Melina Marchetta - Finnikin of the Rock

For Marisa and Daniela because I've always loved being a Marchetta sister ...

[Image: Map: THE LAND OF SKULDENORE.]

[Image: Map: LUMATERE]

A long time ago, in the spring before the five days of the unspeakable, Finnikin of the Rock dreamed that he was to sacrifice a pound of flesh to save the royal house of Lumatere.

The dream came to him from the gods on the eve of the Harvest Moon Festival, when the whole of the kingdom slept under the stars in the Field of Celebration. It was Finnikin's favorite night of the year, watching his fellow Lumaterans dance and give thanks for a life of peace and plenty. When the dawn broke and the priest-king sang the Song of Lumatere, the joy in people's souls lit up their world. And what a world it was—made up of those hailing from the Flatlands, the Forest, the Rock, the Mountains, and the River. All protected by a beloved king and queen and their five children, said to be descended from the gods themselves.

Finnikin told his friends Prince Balthazar and Lucian of the Monts about the dream the next morning as they spat olive pits into the river. The three boys loved their mornings on the waterfront, watching Finnikin's father, the captain of the King's Guard, as he and his men checked the merchandise on the barges. No one was more formidable than Captain Trevanion when he was protecting the kingdom, and many spoke of his love for the gentle Lady Beatriss of the Flatlands, who would give birth to their child that year, and how she adored Finnikin as if he were her own.

Upon hearing Finnikin's dream that day, Balthazar convinced them that no harm would ever come to Lumatere as long as his father was king. Lucian claimed that if the gods were serious, they would have asked him to protect his royal cousins, for no other reason than that he had turned nine that spring and was a head taller than the others. And so, for a time, the dream was forgotten.

Each afternoon, Finnikin, Balthazar, and Lucian played in the Forest of Lumatere, practicing how they would one day catch the silver wolf. Legend had it that only a true warrior could conquer such a beast, and they were certain that Balthazar, the heir to the throne of Lumatere, would be the one. The three friends spent all summer digging the trap, and when it was finished, they dragged Balthazar's youngest sister, Princess Isaboe, along to be the bait. But the wolf never appeared.

As summer moved into autumn and the days grew shorter, Finnikin began to worry. He would tremble in fear when he remembered his dream. At night he prayed to Lagrami, the goddess of light, to protect his unborn sibling, to keep Balthazar and his four sisters safe, and to watch over the Forest Dwellers, even though they worshipped another goddess and lived outside the kingdom walls. Until one day, finally, he convinced his companions to make a pledge.

And so they climbed the rock of three wonders at the crest of Finnikin's village, and they cut flesh from their bodies and tugged a strand of hair from the weeping Isaboe's head to make a sacrifice to their goddess. Balthazar pledged to die defending his royal house of Lumatere. Finnikin swore to be their protector and guide for as long as he lived. Lucian vowed he would be the light whom they traveled toward in times of need.

That evening, Finnikin and Balthazar sat perched high on the flat roof of a cottage in the village. As always, they spoke of the silver wolf and the might of a warrior king, and they imagined the years to come when one would rule and one would guard. Finnikin looked down at Princess Isaboe, who slept between them, and although his thigh ached from the pledge wound, he felt peace in his heart that he had done the right thing. They were indeed blessed as no other kingdom in the land.

Until the five days of the unspeakable.

When the king and queen and their three oldest daughters were slaughtered in the palace and Princess Isaboe was slain in the Forest of Lumatere.

When Balthazar's bloody handprints were found splattered on the kingdom walls and the people of Lumatere, seeking someone to blame, turned on one another.

When the despised cousin of the dead king entered the kingdom with six hundred of his men and began to burn the Forest Dwellers in their homes.

When Captain Trevanion was arrested for treason and sent to a foreign prison and his beloved Lady Beatriss died delivering a stillborn baby in the palace dungeon.

When Seranonna, the matriarch of the Forest Dwellers, cried a blood curse as she burned at the stake, a curse that caused the land to shudder and split the earth, that swallowed those who failed to run from the fury of its jaws, that crumbled village homes and shook the palace to its foundations.

Those who could escaped to the Valley of Tranquillity, outside the kingdom walls, trampling their neighbors who were left behind. And then the dark forces of the curse entombed the kingdom, dividing the people in two.

This is the story, as told to those not born to see such days, recorded in the Book of Lumatere so they will never forget.

The story of those trapped inside the kingdom, never to be heard from again, and those who escaped but were forced to walk the land in a diaspora of misery.

Until ten years later, when Finnikin of Lumatere climbed another rock....

When it finally appeared in the distance, Finnikin wondered if it was some phantom half-imagined in this soulless kingdom at the end of the world.

There had always been talk that this land had been forsaken by the gods. Yet perched at the top of a rocky outcrop, cloaked in blue-gray mist, was proof to the contrary: the cloister of the goddess Lagrami.

From where they stood, the flat expanse that led to its fortified entrance resembled the softness of sand over a desert. Finnikin could see a trail of pilgrims with their heads bent low, sacks across their shoulders and staffs in their hands. They made a line across the low-lying country like tiny insignificant ants at the mercy of the nothingness surrounding them.

"We must hurry," the king's First Man urged, speaking the Sarnak language. Sir Topher had decided that once they reached this wasteland of Sendecane, they would use the language of the neighboring kingdom to the north. At the inn two nights before, he had made it known that they were pilgrims themselves: holy men who had come to the end of the earth to pay homage at the greatest temple of the blessed goddess Lagrami. To be anything else in this part of the land would raise suspicion and fear, and Finnikin had come to realize that those full of fear were the most dangerous of people.