At the Story Stone, most of the good spots on the lawn were taken, but Kehla and An-nibel found a place for their blanket not terribly far from the Stone. They settled down for a brief respite before Story Night began.
Kehla was glad that they hadn’t been the last to arrive. A few stragglers were still getting settled. The littlest of the children ran up and threw her arms around Kehla. “Hi, Kayleee!”
“Hi, Sho-ann! I’m so happy to see you!”
“Me too! Hi, Bel!” She hugged An-nibel vigorously.
“Hi, Sho-ann. How’s your garden doing? Do you have any extra crickets I can borrow?”
Sho-ann looked puzzled. “Crickets? What for? Hi, Skye!”
The little lizard stood up, waved, then bowed elegantly to Sho-ann.
“Oooh! He’s getting smarter!”
“He sure is!” Kehla said. “I’ve been teaching him.”
“Can I sit with you, Kehla? Can I? Please?”
“It’s okay with me, but go ask your mother first.”
“Okay.” She ran off to where Mother and Father Broadlog were spreading their blanket and unpacking their picnic basket. Sho-ann Broadlog, at the age of four, was the youngest resident of Pond Town. She had adopted Kehla as her ‘big sister.’
Sho-ann was back in a heartbeat. She helped Kehla spread the blanket on the grass, and sat down just as Rahvak ascended the Story Stone.
“Good,” Kehla said. “Just in time. I really do hate being late.”
An-nibel smiled smugly. “I told you we’d be on time.”
* * *
Story Night was the one bright spot in Pond Town’s otherwise grim existence. A Story Night took place six or seven times each year, always under a full moon, beginning in the spring and continuing until the weather grew too cold in the fall. Story Nights were a time for the entire town to come together to get the news, socialize, and be entertained. Tonight marked the first Story Night of the season and of Kehla’s sixteenth year.
Rahvak had started the tradition nearly thirty years ago, shortly after he became Town Elder, to help combat the terrible depression that followed Krossak’s Nightmare. As Town Elder, Rahvak spoke first and last, usually beginning with announcements and community concerns. Next, anyone who wished would share something of interest: a story, a poem, an experience, or perhaps something musical. All were encouraged to share, young and old alike. Rahvak concluded each Story Night with a tale of the imaginary country called Freeland, where everyone had plenty of food, nice new clothing, and other riches, and where the army didn’t come twice a year to rob them blind. These “Freeland Tales” were Kehla’s favorite part.
All of Pond Town’s one hundred twenty-six inhabitants were invited to participate in Story Night, but not everyone chose to do so. The small Sevro community, located across the pond from Story Stone, tended to stick to itself. Nahger, for example, had only rarely attended, and when he did, he arrived late and left early.
Rahvak wore his familiar old tan-and-brown tunic. In spite of his age, he stood tall and proud. He was the tallest of Pond’s citizens, well over six feet (183cm). His muscular, barrel-shaped chest dominated his powerful physique. The usual Fruen “white mark,” a broad white stripe, ran through his thick, dark hair. His manner was dignified, his grooming immaculate, his beard perfectly trimmed. And his piercing, ice-blue eyes were always laughing.
Rahvak had timed his introduction so that he was dramatically framed by the moon’s big yellow disk, rising directly behind him. Goosebumps prickled Kehla’s arms. A hush fell over the crowd.
“Welcome, my friends, to Story Night. It is good to see us all together once again.” He shuffled through some notes. “Let’s start with some good news. Our chief hunter, Yolana Shedfir, has returned from her most recent expedition with a fine pair of deer, along with various small game. To celebrate her success, her brother and sister-in-law will be hosting a picnic right here at Story Stone tomorrow afternoon. Everyone in Pond Town is invited. Bring a dish if you can, but if you can’t, don’t fret. Of course,” Rahvak added for the benefit of the army’s spy, “the best cuts will be smoked and added to our tax quotas. But there will be plenty left over to roast, not to mention several kinds of savory stew. It won’t keep for long, so come and eat your fill before it’s salted.”
The audience buzzed with excitement. It had been quite a while since there was fresh venison.
“Now, regarding the tax quotas, Mr. Marsant, our Town Money Manager, reports that our annual tax quotas are not yet met. So whatever you can grow or gather, remember to get a little extra for the army.”
Rahvak shuffled his papers. “Ah, here it is, the best news of the day: Mrs. Clayfield is with child!”
The audience gasped, then applauded vigorously, and finally broke into cheers. Children were considered a blessing in Pond Town.
“The new baby will be the fifteenth child born in Pond Town since the arrival of Kehla and An-nibel. Pond Town is on the mend!”
“Those are all the announcements, so let’s call the first speaker for this month’s stories, our very own tree-home builder, Mr. Virn Broadlog. And as most of you already know, he has completed his new tree house! We look forward to hearing your finished poem, Virn.”
For months, Virn had been building a tree house as a defense against the army’s semi-annual ‘tax collections.’ Each month he added a verse or two to his epic poem describing the building project. Tonight’s reading included the final verse:
So come on, you Fessals, attack if you dare.
You’ll get no more taxes from me!
For I’ve beaten your plan, like no one else can:
I’ve built my house in a tree!
Instead of the usual applause, the audience shifted in their seats, murmuring and grumbling. Claydon Lochenberch, the leader of the Sevro community, shouted, “It ain’t smart to challenge them Fessals, Broadlog!”
Another Sevro joined in, “Yeah, that’s right. Some spy will tell on you, and we’ll all pay for it.”
Rahvak was back on the Story Stone. “Friends, friends, please! Let’s all calm down. Thank you, Virn, for your excellent poem, and congratulations on the completion of your tree house.” He began clapping, Kehla and An-nibel joined in, and, after a few moments, there was a reluctant smattering of applause. “However, I must remind everyone to use extreme caution when speaking of the army, the Fessals, or the Emperor. We must be especially careful not to issue any challenges, even poetic ones. There may very well be a spy in town. He might be in the audience this very moment!”
Some in the audience looked suspiciously at their neighbors. The murmuring began again.
“Please, dear friends! Let’s move on, shall we? The next sharer for tonight is our town Hunter, Yolana Shedfir. She has an exciting tale of a frightening encounter with a dangerous reptile.”
As she began her tale, a rough voice behind Kehla said, “Best not to be taunting them Fessals, little Miss Speckleface. We oughta run you and the rest of your Torph buddies out of town and let you fight the Fessals somewhere else, far away from us.” Kehla turned to see Claydon walking away through the crowd.
After several others had their turns, Rahvak once again ascended the Story Stone. “Thank you all for your participation tonight. We have time, if you would like, for a story about Freeland.”
A murmur of approval and a bit of applause rippled through the crowd. Rahvak smiled graciously, then took a sheaf of papers from his knapsack. “Let’s see, now, where did we leave off last month?”
Kehla said, “We learned about the Great Town and how it made trade possible with other towns.”
“Ah, yes, that was it. Thank you.” He adjusted his spectacles. “Well, as you’ll recall—”
Claydon stood up. “Ah, forget it, old man. We don’t wanna hear any more about Freeland.”
A few other Sevros stood up with him. “That’s right!” one said. “What good does it do us, yakking about what-all we can’t never have?”
Another said, “Makes me sad, it does, hearing all about folks with too much food and brand-new clothes.”
And another added, “Makes me sick, that’s what. I’m so sick of hearin’ about Freeland that I don’t know whether to puke or go blind.”
Claydon shouted, “The worst part is, it’s all your fault! It’s your stupid grandfather’s fault that Pond Town is dying. He’s the one who made the Deal, but you’re the one who’s stuck with it all these years.”
Kehla stood up, fists clenched, but Rahvak gestured for her to stay calm. “All right, folks. Perhaps it would be best to have our Freeland story another time. This concludes our Story Night. Sleep well, my friends.” He stepped off the Story Stone, turned, and headed directly for his home without another word to anyone.
“Wait!” Kehla called. “Papa Rahvak, wait.”
Rahvak appeared not to have heard and continued briskly on his way.
“Come on, Bel! Quick, pack up our blanket and food. Sho-ann, it’s time for you to go back to your parents.” She gave Sho-ann a quick hug and sent her on her way. “Let’s go, Bel!”
“Okay, I’m ready. Um… where are we going, Kaylee?”
“After Papa Rahvak, of course. We can’t let him go home alone after what happened.”
“Right,” An-nibel said.
The girls hurried after their foster father.
* * *
For more about Kehla’s arrival in Pond Town, read Vetta for free here on FellstoneTales.com
Bonus Material:
Virn Broadlog’s Epic Treehouse Poem
Yolana and the Snake
Rahvak’s Freeland Story