SunRider: Book 1 (The SunRider Saga)

by Hohmann, Rafael

  “Salastine.” Wahala whispered.

  “Queen Priestess.” a smooth voice answered back. “What word do you have on our grand leader's decision?”

  Wahala smiled and stood straight, watching the army march toward Metés and Vestés. “I’m no Queen Priestess yet. But by our lord's blind command, that will change.”

  Salastine smiled a perfect smile, his teeth white and straight. He bowed to her, his composure perfect even though Wahala knew the man was full to the brim with energy.

  “Gather two of our most loyal.” Wahala commanded. “We travel back home to our temple. I’ll ritualize and preform the rites. Then you may call me Queen.”

  “Your heart for the darkness.” Salastine whispered, prayer-like, disappearing into the marching crowd.

  Wahala closed her eyes. Yes, my heart for the darkness. And for leadership of the cult.

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  Pittance

  —Circa 5,602 E.E. (Economic Era-The 17th Era): Goblin of the Whey-Weavers is born, mute with no chance of ever having a voice.—

  Finn jumped from the grating wagon, patting Piscus' horse in thanks. Goblin followed and the two looked about in wonder. The dirt path had led them to stop in front of two large humanoid statues covered in moss. Finn studied the thick tall stones, trying to make sense of what they were. One resembled a naked woman with the head of a deer and Finn averted his gaze, trying not to stare. The other looked to be a man with a snake's body. Moss covered most of the man's face and Finn couldn’t make much of its features.

  Beyond the statues rested the village of Pittance. It was a place unlike anything Finn had ever seen before. Dirt paths lined with white stones led to beautiful houses of clay brick and wood. To Finn, the homes looked as if living trees were hugging the edges of the four walls. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the four corners on each house were living trees. The people of Pittance had used incredible artistic skill and craftsmanship to build their homes into the surrounding wildlife. They were both architects and gardeners.

  Taller trees, with layered branches, formed multi-storied homes. Bushes and ferns pulled themselves up, rising in slopes around the walls. By staring closely, Finn could find the trace of human guidance in the growth. Wild bushes formed paths, a particularly long root had been turned into a bench, and the hole in a tree into a window. Open fields of flowers sprawled between the homes. Soft purple, yellow, and orange blossoms grew in abundance all throughout the peaceful village. It was as if they had built Pittance within a large open grove without ever having disturbed nature.

  Finn watched as white-robed children ran and giggled, climbing moss-covered statues dotting the fields. He took in the village as a whole. The entirety of the place was a circle. Surrounding the village, farms and gardens flourished; tended by men and women, side-by-side. Beyond the village, Finn caught a glint of sunlight reflecting off moving waters.

  Piscus led them toward the center of Pittance. Finn passed a group of adults sitting cross-legged in a circle; chanting, singing, and beating on drums. Their heads were wreathed in vines and their faces reddened as they sipped wine from hollowed goat horns. They spotted Finn and Goblin and waved with large smiles, treating them as if long-lost friends returning home. A young maiden, her lips soft and pink, beamed at them. Finn couldn't help but smile and wave back, his heart jolting. Women had always been rare in the Crust, only used as servants—never miners. The maiden mesmerized him and he listened to her strike a song as he followed Piscus forward.

  Betwixt glade and fern,

  thrush brings birth,

  the smell of spice is in the air!

  In hallowed groves,

  the couples dance,

  their passion burns and flairs!

  Finn’s cheeks grew hot and his stomach rolled. The way the drums beat and the way the woman's voice rose and fell: it brought a strange feeling to him, something he hadn’t felt before. He wanted to run back into the circle and dance, grabbing at the maiden's fair hands.

  Piscus looked at him and laughed. He yanked Finn's shoulder, guiding him forward. “Careful friend, or you'll be lost in fantasies of wild romances and fairie-lit forests!” Finn shook his head and moved on, feeling haunted for something he didn’t understand. To his left, Goblin was pulled away from the singers as well.

  They walked underneath an archway made of animal bone and strung with leaves. Deer and elk skulls looked upon them, their antlers curved in twisting knots. They passed stone pavilions where tall poles strung with dozens of colored ribbons hung in the breeze. Carvings of suns and moons in various stages of the eclipse topped the poles, each with smiling faces full of frozen merriment. Finn pointed them out to Piscus and the wrinkled man laughed, tipping his straw hat.

  “Maypoles, Finn! For dancing and festivity!”

  Finn gave the man a questioning look, overwhelmed by the amount of culture and difference the town provided. Everything was new. Everything was... He sniffed the air, a sweet and tangy aroma hitting his nose. It was the most wonderful scent he'd ever experienced.

  “Huckleberries, fresh-picked and pressed for wine.” Piscus commented, noticing Finn’s flaring nostrils.

  “It's amazing!” Finn stammered.

  His heart hammered and he was hit with a thought: he was finally doing it. He was exploring the world!

  Piscus pointed to the middle of the village where a stone walkway ran around a grass plain full of propped logs and unlit campfires. Four elder men and women were coming their way, kind smiles on their faces. Like the children, they also wore white robes tightened by twine around limbs. Piscus waved to the approaching group and moved forward in greeting. Finn and Goblin followed.

  “Have you accomplished your personal tasks in Caronas, good Piscus?” an elder woman spoke. By the way she carried herself and moved in the middle of the group, Finn assumed she was in charge.

  Piscus bowed with respect. “Miriam. My travels were successful. How fairs Pittance?”

  Miriam gave a kind smile. Her face was wrinkled with time, yet Finn could tell long ago she’d been a beautiful woman. “Pittance stays the same as ever.” she responded. “Who are your guests?”

  Piscus introduced both Finn and Goblin. “I met these young men on my journey back. They’ve been good company so far.”

  Miriam stared at Finn in question. “Why does this one not wear shoes?”

  It took a moment for Finn to answer. He hadn’t been yelled, reprimanded, or hit by any of the leaders of the town. He’d never known kindness from his betters before. “Travels have been hard, elder.” Finn stuttered. “But I have means to buy myself new clothing.”

  “Do both of you mean to spend the night with us?” Miriam asked, “Our celebration of Lith-Lamma is tonight. We revel in the warmth of summer and remember our heritage. There will be storytelling, eating, and dancing. We welcome all visitors to participate and enjoy their stay.”

  Both Finn and Goblin nodded in excitement. To begin their first night in civilization with a celebration was too good of an opportunity to pass. Miriam motioned for Piscus. “See to it they wash and change. I’m sure they’ve grown tired of travel-dust coating their skin.”

  Piscus bobbed excused himself, mentioning for Finn and Goblin to follow. He led them toward the stream, where Finn could see a humble two-story inn resting near the banks. The corners of the building were four fat oak trees, their branches a tangled mess.

  “Piscus,” Finn called, mentioning to the homes around them, “the ends of each house are trees. How is that so?”

  Piscus winked at him as he passed by a bush full of sky-blue flowers. He plucked a flower and stuck it in his hat beside the orange feather. “The men of Pittance plant four trees at a young age so they can have a home for their families when they grow older. They pick tree saplings of their choosing and a location. For 15 years they nurture the trees as they grow large and strong. It’s symbolic to the people—it shows their dedication to the land and proves their patience as except
ional husbands and fathers. When they’re old enough to start their own families, they build walls and a roof around the trees.”

  Finn looked at the houses with newfound wonder.

  They continued walking and approached the stream. As he walked along the bank, Finn stared at the glinting water running past him. The stream was wide but shallow. He could see near-translucent fish dart past. They swam so fast and hid so well it took Finn a while to realize he wasn't imagining them.

  Passing a wild bush full of small purple berries, Piscus stopped and plucked a few for himself. The man motioned for Finn and Goblin to do the same. Finn picked a handful and put one in his mouth. A tart yet sweet taste hit his tongue, filling him with energy. His eyes went wide and he stared at Piscus.

  “Those are the huckleberries you've been smelling.” the man explained. “They’re turned into wines and ales. You'll have a greater taste for them tonight. Goblin, I recommend you stop eating. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

  The younger boy, mouth full, stopped but continued to eyeball the bushes. Piscus laughed, continuing to his inn. Finn glanced back at the stream and froze, his mind confused. He’d sworn the water had been traveling from his left to right, but now it moved the other way. Piscus noticed his hesitation.

  “Don’t worry Finn, you’re not crazy. I see you’ve played witness to the phenomenon that is the Stream of Fate.”

  Finn looked about, scratching his head. “But... how can this be?” he asked. “Didn't the water move...”

  Piscus nodded, face solemn. “You’ll hear the story of the Stream of Fate tonight at the festival.”

  Finn rubbed at his eyes and stared at the water with greater focus. Now it was moving left to right again. On the opposite shore, tall ferns and cattails hid most of the land. Willows hung about, covering many small and strange clearings.

  “Should it not be called a river?” Finn asked, “It seems too wide to be a stream.”

  Piscus shrugged. “The villagers deemed Stream of Fate sounded better than The Indecisive River.” Piscus changed topics. “Some have tried boating it, but none have been seen again. The stream has no beginning nor end.”

  “Why sail it?” Finn asked. Goblin looked equally curious and amazed at the phenomenon.

  Piscus tweaked his own nose. “You'll know more tonight.”

  Although curiosity gnawed at Finn to a point where he felt he would go mad, he followed Piscus into his inn: a warm smoke-smelling place creaking at the slightest breeze. Piscus walked through the front door, leading them into a small bar where two grizzly men sat and drank beer. Worn red carpet covered the floor and there were few tables, yet cozy charm was everywhere. Another straw hat like the one Piscus wore rested on the head of a mounted boar. Names were carved all over the walls and Finn assumed they were of previous visitors that’d come before. A large black log cut in half served as a bar counter and a plump woman came forward from behind it, greeting Piscus whom Finn assumed was her employer. She left to serve the two other guests.

  Finn could tell by how the men dressed, they were either distant traders or trappers. They looked at Finn’s bracer and turned away quickly without speaking a word. Finn was led upstairs before any introductions could be made.

  Piscus showed both Finn and Goblin to a small room with two beds and a view of the stream. Through the circular window, Finn still couldn’t tell which way the stream flowed as it seemed to change every time he blinked.

  “If you hand me some coins, I can make my way into town to buy you both new clothes.” Piscus commented. He gave a wink. “Miriam would burn down my inn if she thought I was mistreating guests.”

  Finn reached into his satchel where he kept all the gems he’d taken from Nozgull and pulled out a small ruby, handing it to the man. “Will this do?” he asked, ready to offer more.

  Piscus' eyes seemed to nearly jump out of his head and he spluttered. “Do? If you wish to buy a house, this will do fine! To imagine if I’d been swindling you! Finn, where’d you get this wealth? Surely you didn't steal it?”

  “I inherited it. From one who died.” Finn replied, thinking quickly.

  Piscus glanced to Finn's arm, where the bracer rested. Conflict ran across the older man's face—suspicions of whether Finn had killed someone for the money. Piscus was gentle and kind, not one to judge or do ill. If the Star-Children were as bad as they sounded, Finn couldn't take offense to Piscus' attitude. It was no wonder the innkeeper was still suspicious of him.

  The man dipped his head, his straw-hat tipping toward them. “I'll bring you clothing and your change.”

  “Keep what change is left.” Finn stated. Piscus stiffened, looking at him in shock. Finn tried not to blush. “You’ve showed us a lot of kindness, Piscus. You deserve more.”

  The man's face flushed and he worked his mouth. The innkeeper looked to be struggling for words. “By grace and grass Finn! I don't know what to say! This will keep my inn running for months!”

  “Just say you won't buy me any of those strange white robes the townsfolk wear. Get me something for travel. Leather if you can find it.”

  “Only the best!” Piscus bowed, leaving the room.

  Finn turned to Goblin with a smile. The boy was relaxing on one of the two beds, his face exuberant with pleasure. It was the first time he'd lain on something soft since leaving the mining outpost. Even then, the outpost beds hadn't been the most comfortable in Lenova. In fact, they’d felt like one was sleeping on a cloth-wrapped rock.

  “I might’ve overwhelmed our host.” Finn stated before he too jumped into a bed of his own. His muscles melted like hot butter on the soft mattress. Goblin didn't reply, but instead rolled over and immediately fell asleep.

  Piscus returned, awakening the two boys. In splendor, he produced an incredible arrangement of garments. He gave Finn and Goblin each a pair of thick leather boots with steel tips, thick green-gray cloaks, leather gauntlets, and fresh pants and shirts so soft, it was like wearing a cloud. Finn's cave-diver belt was replaced with a black one boasting more segments for clipping pouches and weapons. Piscus had even bought the boys straw hats, copies of the one he wore. Goblin put his on and strutted around the room like he owned the world.

  As Finn tied his cracked goggles to his new belt, Piscus explained to them that the town merchant had nearly believed the ruby to be fake. It took Piscus time to convince the merchant that the wealth was real.

  After donning their new outfits and allowing Piscus to burn their old clothes, Finn and Goblin followed the innkeeper outside. The sun had set and torches—Finn hadn’t noticed them before in the daylight—burned in the streets, casting warm light across the town. Finn watched as families of birds flew to the trees forming the homes of Pittance. The animals were bedding for the night, weaving into the structures like building materials returning to their proper places. Did the villagers fall asleep and awaken to the sounds of chirping and birdsong?

  Men, women, and children throughout the village made their way toward the central field where fires were being lit. Cooks came forward, setting food on groaning tables that bent under the weight of the feast. There were cheers and saliva flowed from mouths. Never had Finn seen so much food.

  There were plates with golden pastries nearly bursting by touch alone, exhibiting flaky crusts and cream-filled centers. Tender meats sizzled, fresh from fires where they'd been smoked. When cut, seasoned juice ran down knives. Mushrooms lathered in butter and an assortment of freshly-picked fruits and vegetables too numerous to count decorated each dish, sometimes as topping and other times surrounding the food as art. Soups of a hundred varieties, ales, wines, beers, and even a cake the size of an adult man were all set on tables. Cheeses freckled with nuts and fruits were cut into and spread on thick slices of hot bread. Children and adults alike dipped their fingers into frothy puddings so thick and sweet they left one lounging in their seat with eyelids half-closed. Honey-covered almonds made their way into everyone's hands and lavender ale into each cup.

>   Finn found himself surrounded by men with moustaches handing him samples of pies. Plump women fought to give him a taste of their broths and blushed at his compliments. Finn watched Goblin dive headfirst into a plate of tarts. The boy used both hands to stuff one morsel into his mouth after another. A group of men surrounded him, eyes wide in amazement. They started a game to see which dish Goblin would eat of the most. Cooks began to ignore all others and rush to Goblin's side, presenting the boy with their finest dishes. They laughed, giddy with pride as Goblin sighed with contentment at each bite.

  Music flowed about them in haunting tones, coming from strange instruments made of spinning strings and hollowed metal tubes. Voices rang out, singing of men chasing beautiful nymphs and of ancient forests where animals wouldn’t die. Children ran circles around the adults, chasing each other and throwing candied nuts. Some villagers performed acrobatic feats and others showed incredible athletic skills.

  Finn saw eight beautiful maidens dance around a maypole, each holding a colored ribbon tied to the top of the structure. They spun and twirled, mixing color and dance under the growing starlight. No one moved forward to cheer or disrupt them. Instead, onlookers watched from a distance, not wanting to interrupt. It was beautiful in the way it was untouchable—as if no power in all Lenova could stop them. Finn knew the scene would stay in his mind forever.

  His hand grabbed, Finn was yanked forward into a crowd of gyrating bodies dancing to the melodies of the night. A girl with light green eyes laughed and spun with him, holding his hands. Her cheeks crinkled the corners of her face and the moon glinted in her hair as it flowed about them. Finn felt as if in a dream. One which he wished would last forever. A warbling song washed over him like a wave, sung by an unknown voice:

  In the pale snow-forest, my love.

  You'll find me there behind the maple tree.

  Smiling and leading you on, through mountain and vale.