The Obsidian Sword: An Unusual Quest - Part Six

The next morning, I pack my bags and take Flintley's journal in hand. When my search for the farmer yields nothing, I step outside the house and shield my eyes. Far out in the fields, I can see him bending and standing, stooping and straightening, already out and picking berries in the hot sun. I turn back around to get him a glass of ice water, and then make my way to him, having to step high through some of the more overgrown grass.

     The farmer - far from the near-deafness he says he is afflicted by - hears me coming and turns around. His eyes show his surprise at the act of kindness I hold in my hands.

     "For me?" he asks, tilting his chin towards the already-sweating glass.

     "Of course," I tell him.

     He grunts appreciatively and accepts it. After he's downed almost the entire thing, he takes a quick, satisfied gasp of air and asks, "So, what'd you come for? Not just to give me this, I suppose." At this, he raises the glass.

     I smile wryly. "No, sorry. I also brought out the journal. I was hoping you could explain a few of these things to me. They seem like they could help me out, but I'm not sure what to make of them. One of them I don't think is even in a language I can understand."

     "Happy to oblige," the Farmer says, eyes alight. I see his excitement, the way he brightens, and wonder what sort of trouble he got into when he was my age. Elderlyboys and Elderlygirls really are fascinating. I find myself wishing I had more time to just sit and listen to his stories.

     "Ah!" he says, having come across the page that I could not translate. "I can see why you couldn't read it. This is a very early form of our language, so old it's barely even recognizable. I can see yer trouble," he repeats, nodding to himself. "I'm a little rusty, so this may come out soundin' off, but here goes."

     He reads:

Sharp, dark shine
Obsidian
The sword it can
See you within.
In it yourself you shall see
But fear you not,
Don't be deceived.
The sword is here,
The sword is all
Bright shine
Dark heart
Like the Dark Hall
Carved from walls
It will befall
The one most worthy
Of them all.
Approach with caution
Banish fear
Those most brave
Must enter here.

     "That's roughly what it says, I b'lieve," the Farmers says, and scratches at his chin. He hands the journal back to me. "Dunno if it means anything to ya."

     "Not right off hand," I tell him. "But thank you for your translation. I'll write it down so Stephen and I can analyze it. I'll let you know if we think of anything!"

     "Ah, ya will. Ya both got good heads on yer shoulders. I'll be out here 'til ya figure it out, though." He takes another few gulps of water and hands me the cup.

     I thank him again for his help, take his now-empty glass, and head back to the farmhouse. It's a picture perfect scene, though a little rough around the edges. Paint is peeling and one side of the porch sags a little, but I can't help but understand why the Farmer gave up his adventures to live on the land.

     I take the step up onto the porch and over the threshold. "Stephen!" I call into the depths of the house. "We have a clue, and lots of work to do!"

     Once we have a chance to sit down and really delve into the possible meanings of the strange ancient rhyme, it doesn't take us too long to figure it out. A good twenty minutes into our discussion, the Berry Farmer clomps in with his thick boots still on, grabs some Kau milk from the fridge, and leans against the counter. Scratching the hair on his chin, he asks, "Didja discover what it means yet?" It's the word 'discover' that triggers a memory. What was a recent land that had been discovered? Moltara. What was Moltara known for? In part, for their obsidian.

     "Stephen!" I shout, startling the Farmer and causing him to sputter, coughing and trying to clear his lungs as the milk had gone down wrong. "Sorry! Sorry. It's just -- it's obsidian! The sword. It's made from obsidian walls, which means it's mined. And Moltara is known for its mining skill. It has to be somewhere around Moltara. We just have to figure out where!"

     The Berry Farmer, throat and airways cleared, is full-out grinning now. Or maybe it's just a regular-sized smile and it only looks to be a grin on him. "I'll be," he mutters. "So close for all this time. It's gotta be the home a' tha sword. Must be where it returns when it gits tired or gits done with a Neopet."

     I don't know what he means by 'done with a Neopet,' and I'm not sure if I want to, as his words send strange shivers down my spine that are not entirely unpleasant, but not entirely familiar. One thing that is familiar is the teardrop sun soul's sudden glimmer. It's been strangely dull since the cabin when it led me to Stephen, but now it shines brightly. It seems like a sign.

     "That a sundrop medallion?" the Berry Farmer asks, gesturing towards the necklace.

     "I-how-," I stutter. "It's - yes, it is."

     He nods, satisfied. "Be sure n' listen to it. Can't help ya find wha's really important, but it'll help ya get to where you can do it on yer own."

     I stand there, jaw working, trying to figure out what to ask and how to phrase it. But the clock is ticking and, besides, even if he did explain, I'm not sure I would understand. This Berry Farmer knows a lot that the general public doesn't know he knows, that much is for sure.

     "I don't know if it's Moltara for sure," I settle on saying, getting back to the task at hand. "Possibly. Probably. But whatever it is, and wherever it is, we'll let you know. For now, we have to go."

     The Berry Farmer nods slowly and takes it all in stride, as if we had been discussing the berry crop instead of a cross-Neopia journey. "I'll pack some preserves."

     After gathering our items and thanking the Berry Farmer for his hospitality and for preparing us plentifully for this leg of the trip, we're off. It's so much different, traveling when you have a clear area in mind that you're headed for. So much more comfortable when you have sleeping bags and food.

     Still, traveling from the berry farm down to the coast, my feet are sore and tired. My mind, however, is content. I take a deep breath and inhale salt. The sea is like an old home to me. Walking beside it, swimming in it, flying over it. If I didn't know any better, I would swear I was supposed to have been Maraquan. And I was, for a time - a Maraquan Eyrie - until I was struck down by Invisibility. After years of experimentation with the mad man at the Lab, this is what I am. Part of me wonders if the strength fluctuations and frequent identity crises that the treatments brought on had a hand in my former attitudes. But, then again, that was then, and this is now. No excuses. Just moving forward.

     And moving forward is exactly what I must do in order to get to the Dark Hall. But not by sea. I can't swim fast enough, and a boat would be too slow. I figure we'll fly for as long as I can, hope for an island somewhere midway to land on, rest for a night or two, and continue on from there.

     Plan in mind, I turn to Stephen. "You ready?" If I'm tired, I can't imagine what he's feeling. He's been trotting along beside me for the past few miles, after his pride convinced him that there was no way he was letting me carry him any further than the first mile or two from the Berry Farm.

     Stephen sighs irritably - a chirrup-y sort of noise that borders on a growl - and relents by beginning to climb up to my shoulder. He's an irritable sort when he's tired. And he has to get help from me now, which hurts his pride. But pride or no pride, he can't fly, so he has no choice but to rely on my wings. After he makes it quite clear what he'll do if I drop him and he's stable enough to hang on, I take a few running strides, flap my wings... and then we're up. My feet are immeasurably grateful for the break.

     The flight is uneventful, for the most part. For several days, we walk, fly, and rest on whatever small piece of land we can find. One day, it looks as if it will rain, with clouds looming menacingly on the near horizon, but they stay just out of reach. Just as I think my wings will fail me, we reach a land mass. From the burnt smell in the air, I can only guess that this is somewhere near Moltara. I grin at the jungle-like area around me. I'd love to explore each and every land mass that lies like patches on the sea. But as it is, there is no time, and I must find shelter. There seem to be only grasslands for as far as I can see, so the only logical thing to do is move towards the city until we find a place to sleep.

     "If nothing else," I tell Stephen, "I can use you as a pillow." A wry smile tugs at the side of his mouth, but he doesn't deign my comment worthy of response, which of course only makes it funnier for me.

     An hour later, we're about ready to just make a bed of the grass below us. Sleeping under the stars wouldn't be the worst of fates. But we're both weary of being out in the open, as well as starving since we've used up our supplies, so we keep going. Forty minutes more, and we're sure we're daydreaming, because out of nowhere, there are tents. Dozens of them in an array of colors, all propped up on what look like stilts. I duck down to peer beneath one, wondering how it does any good to lay below a tent when there's a gap in it. Then I notice that where the bare stilts end and where the tent fabric begins, there are sheets of sturdy fabric stretched across the bottom.

     "Ey! Boy!" a gruff voice shouts.

     My head shoots up so fast, it swims. My eyes take a moment to clear the spots. When they do, I can see that the Neopet before me does not look pleased.

To be continued...