Fern stared at the pages in front of her with a rage hotter than Ra. Which wasn’t very hard considering the small sun that her even smaller planet revolved around hardly provided a month-long summer. A summer that was almost over, and used to be her favorite season.
Emotions swelled to the surface in heavy tidal waves: anger, sadness, and something bitter that she swallowed down with guilt.
Her dad up and died and this is what he left her?
A wrinkled, leather-bound book the size of her palm. An empty book. Two tears slid down her flushed cheeks, Fern aggressively swiped them away. She’d cried enough.
He promised he’d come back since she was a little girl. “I’ll see you soon little fiddlehead, don’t get into trouble.” With a toss of a few silver pieces and a thankful nod to Isabelle, the cafe owner who had watched her since she was one, he’d be gone. Fern would sit at her small attic window and stare into the stars, wondering where her father’s cargo ship was headed next. Sometimes it was days, or weeks, but he promised he’d return before the next full moon. “I’ll be home before Reka rises, make sure the kettle is hot”.
💫
Two weeks ago she watched the orange orb, crest the dusk skyline. Her throat had immediately filled with bile as she ran to Belle Cafe. Isabelle greeted her with a similar look of despair. She shook her head and continued wiping tables. Anxious cleaning was Isabelle’s favorite practice. Something wasn’t right.
Three days later, her father returned.
In a body bag. Two officers had arrived at the warp gate that led to Del Station. Fern knew before they made the town announcement.
Everyone seemed to know. On a planet as small as Delphi, originally meant to be a pit stop for passing travelers, everyone knew of Eric Telren. A local Robin Hood, Fern’s decrepit teacher from ages 5-18 had called him.
Years ago she had shown Fern a fragile, crumpling book lined with gold letters. “You can borrow it, historians claim the tale came from Earth.” Fern reluctantly accepted it, curious to unweave the constant mystery that seemed to follow her father. The fable told of a man who stole from the rich to give back to the poor, a cunning, selfless thief. She wasn’t sure if it entirely described the “famous” Eric Telren who worked in shipment deliveries and could hardly afford a new washer. Nonetheless, he always ensured the town was taken care of, sometimes before themselves.
After Fern confirmed the body, her father was sent to the morgue to be cremated. They gave her the day. With the recent violence crossing the cosmos, the morgue was fuller than normal, there was no time to hold the body of a twenty-year-old’s dad.
She longed to hear his rough voice, smelling of cigars and peppermint tea one last time.
💫
The stupid book rested in Fern’s hand in a taunting fashion. She’d already flipped through every page since Isabelle had dropped it off yesterday, along with flaky butter rolls and steaming peppermint tea—her father’s favorite.
“I’m sorry Fern. Your father knew the risks he took in his line of work, I never liked it but he did it for you. You were his heart,” Isabelle said.
Fern looked at her with the sorrow-filled fog that had plagued her since her father’s death, “I know. I just wish we could have spent more time together. He knew it was getting more dangerous. He wouldn’t let me leave this meek planet because of it. Now I’m just alone in the universe.”
The words were more dramatic than she meant, but it was the truth. After crying for days, she was angry. She hated it. Hated herself for it. It’s not like her father chose to die.
Isabelle looked down with something like shame as if she could have somehow prevented all this. Her father was a traveler, no one could have kept him here.
“Well I know I’m no comparison, but you’ll always have me. I’m not going anywhere,” Isabelle said with a soft smile and ruffle of Fern’s bronze, wavy hair like she was eight again.
“You are enough.” Fern gave her a reassuring smile.
She was. Isabelle had essentially filled the role of her mother since before Fern could remember, but she’d never be her father. Fern bit into the freshly baked roll with closed eyes. Damn, they were good. For the first time in weeks, a part of her softened.
The feeling however quickly faded when she remembered the meager heirloom her father had left sitting in her lap.
As if Isabelle could sense her annoyance she spoke, “Listen I know that book might seem kind of worthless, but your father wouldn’t give me something useless to guard in the case he never returned. He wanted you to have it.”
Fern knew deep down she was right, but couldn’t figure out how for the life of her.
💫
Ra was close to rising and Fern’s eyes hurt from spending yet another night crying. It felt pathetic. The candle on her nightstand cast dancing rays on her father’s book. Fern ran her fingers over the cover, why did he leave this thing? Picking it up she only felt annoyance.
“Piece of trash.”
She threw it across the room. It landed underneath her window, the pages splayed open to nothing. A part of her felt guilty for calling her father’s apparent “prized possession” trash. She walked over to place it back on her nightstand as morning light began to stream through the glass.
Fern froze in place.
Words were appearing on the page, by themselves.
The book was enchanted.
She’d always read of the ancient practice but had never known anyone in her small town capable of it. It looks like her father has been hiding more than she thought.
The words appeared slowly in a delicate cursive.
My little fiddlehead,
If you are reading this, I am no longer with you on this physical plane. You must know you are my world Fern. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you. You are my light and I love you always. I promise my spirit will always be near you.
There are things I haven’t told you. Things I am not proud of. Worries I never wanted you to have. I’m sorry if you feel deceived, but I kept these secrets for your safety.
There are people out there who would go to great lengths to find you.
People who likely murdered me. And are coming to Delphi.
More information will be revealed when the time is right. It is dangerous for you to know too much at once. I’m deeply sorry for leaving you with such burdens to face on your own.
You’ve likely realized this book is enchanted. Keep it close to you. It knows when and what to reveal to you. Just follow the light.
You must leave, for they are almost here if you are reading this.
Do not hesitate. More than enough funds are hidden under the floorboard beneath my bed for your journey. Use them wisely.
Go to the warp gate to Del Station. Ask for the Emerald. Tell them you need to get to Teilall. Trust no one but yourself. Good people are out there, but bad people hide in the same skin.
I love you fiddlehead.
Dad
Fern felt frozen in disbelief. This had to be some kind of joke. Before she even had time to comprehend the words, they disappeared from the page. Great.
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Someone knocked on the front door. Isabelle never knocked.
Fern grabbed her black rucksack with tiny, golden stars she had embroidered at age ten and began stuffing all her necessary belongings inside. Within a minute she was in her father’s bedroom, sure enough, a hefty pouch of what had to be a hundred gold coins rested beneath the floor. She stuffed it in her bag and adjusted to the added weight, heading for her bedroom window. The roof was no stranger to her as she often lay there to search for comets and meteor showers.
Brisk air greeted her along with a faint light by the front door. She didn’t waste time trying to catch a glance at who awaited her as she reached for the tree branch before her and quietly made her way to the ground.
Fern entered Belle Cafe out of breath. Isabelle dropped the glass she was drying with a shatter.
“They’re here,” Isabelle stuttered.
She knew. How did everyone know people were after her, but her? Guilt covered Isabelle’s face.
“I’m sorry Fern, I don’t know why but your father always said you were important and that one day people might remember. I thought he was just joking like he did, but I should have known it wasn’t one. You need to get to the gate.”
The two walked briskly up the cobblestone road trying to appear as if Fern wasn’t running for her life. As much as Fern felt pissed that it seemed everyone in her life had been keeping secrets from her, she knew Isabelle cared deeply for her.
“It’s okay. I know my father was a secretive man, I don’t blame you for this.”
A look of relief passed over her face and she turned to Fern in urgency as they reached the gate.
“Do you have everything you need? He said you would.”
“Yes, it seems this was planned quite a long time ago,” Fern let out a bitter laugh.
Isabelle’s eyes squinted in pity.
“I’m sorry love. I thought we’d have more time together.”
“We will,” Fern said in more of a reassurance to herself.
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
“You must go.”
Isabelle gently pushed her towards the gate. It was all happening too fast.
“I love you Fern. You’ve grown into such a brilliant, kind woman. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”
Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes like tiny crystal drops.
“I love you too. Take care of the cafe, I’ll be back for some tea soon enough.”
Fern gave her a wink and brisk hug.
As the world shifted around her, she couldn’t help but feel she might never see those warm, brown eyes and white curls again. The thought made her much more nauseous than her first time experiencing interdimensional travel.
💫
Fern vomited in the nearest trashcan. It felt like her insides had been twisted into braids and pieced back together.
“Looks like we got a newbie.”
A stout man smiled at her smugly. It was all too much. She frowned at him grimly. There wasn’t time to argue with a stranger.
“I need to find the Emerald.”
She spoke matter a factly attempting to pass as someone who had more knowledge than the citizen of a simple pit stop planet. People bustled around her in varying creeds and colors. Never in her life had such diversity crossed her path. The air was filled with strange smells and languages she’d never heard before. Men and women passed between different ports, preparing their respective ships and goods for their destinations.
The man gave her a slimy look, staring far too long at the black leggings and light blue hoody she had thrown on during her frantic packing.
He rolled his eyes and let out a puff of the tobacco-like substance he was smoking. The smell was musky with a twinge of something close to rosemary. Fern loved rosemary. She waved the smoke out of her face in pointed annoyance despite slightly enjoying the herbal fragrance.
“That hunk of rust is docked at gate eleven,” he said with a snarl. Guess he was not a fan.
She gave a quick thanks and immediately started walking, happy to leave the stranger’s presence. Her eyes set on the glowing eleven 800 feet away.
The man called out behind her.
“They’re under new management by the way. The captain is a piece of work.”
Awesome. Another lovely new detail. There was no choice, Fern had zero knowledge of reliable ships she could take. The Emerald would have to do, new management or not.
Her boots hit the ground at a heavy pace. The warp gate took five minutes to reset. If anyone was following her, she didn’t have much time.
Gate eleven was empty aside from the opened door of a docked ship, which was indeed a hunk of rust. It was far better than Fern had imagined in her brief walk, but even with her severe lack of space travel knowledge, the ship looked decades older than the ones she passed.
“Hello?”
She called out into the open doorway.
Silence met her as she poked her head in. Aside from a few open lockers that likely belonged to the crew, the entrance was empty. The temperature was much warmer than the rest of the station which she welcomed in her vastly underdressed layers.
A trail of smoke crept from the room at the end of the long corridor. It smelled of ginwrit, a popular herb consumed by many travelers in their free time. Isabelle always hated the smell but didn’t mind the increased appetite and loose inhibition it provided. Hungry, relaxed patrons, meant more profit and Isabelle was a baker at heart.
Fern heard laughter from one of the closed rooms. The voice sounded feminine as she was replying to someone likely on a comm. Another room contained a soft snore. A cough threatened to leave her throat as the increasing distance to the smoke made her eyes water.
She didn’t particularly care what people did in their free time; she had caught her father more than enough times with ginwrit after a particularly long trip. Fern just hoped it wasn’t the captain who seemed to be smoking an entire joint of it.
As she rounded the corner she was met with a solid body. Stumbling to back away, Fern’s eyes met with the ginwrit user.
The tall man, perhaps a few years older than her, sized her up. Unlike the man at the gate, his gaze held less slime and more of an assessment of the stranger on his presumable ship.
“May I help you?”
He brought the joint to his lips and blew the smoke to the side. Hazel eyes awaited her with question.
“I need to get to Teliall.”.
Fern stood up straight, resisting the urge to shuffle her feet nervously, as she crossed her arms.
The man’s eyes crinkled in amusement.
“A little demanding, aren’t you? What makes you want to go to Teliall? Seeking some wisdom?”
He mirrored her crossed arms seeming to test how much knowledge she truly had of the vast universe, which was embarrassingly little.
“That’s none of your business.”
He was a stranger. The less he knew the better.
His posture remained the same, unfazed.
“Well as Captain of The Emerald, I think it is my business.”
Things couldn’t get any better. Of course, this jerk was the newly established captain.
Fern was beginning to lose her patience. It had already been the worst month of her life and her emotional regulation was at an all-time low. Let’s not forget that there were presumably still people following her, who wanted to kill her. Her eyes frantically peered down the hallway.
“Listen I don’t have time for this. My dead father recommended your ship, and all I know is I need to go to Teliall. I have more than enough money.”
Did it really matter if he knew the already vague information her father had given her? It was too late to hold back now. She reached into her bag and held out three gold coins.
The briefest flash of pity passed his eyes. A second later he grabbed the gold coins from her palm before Fern had a chance to reevaluate her father’s choice in ships.
“Captain Lucas. Nice to meet you…,” he paused to hear her answer. The captain held out a hand to shake.
For the sake of keeping the peace, Fern extended her hand outwards. His fingers were warm and rough as he shook gently. A man who had spent his life working, but someone who at least didn’t try to establish dominance through grip strength. Her arms returned to crossed.
“Fern,” she replied.
“Ah Fern, intriguing name. Well, it appears you’re in a hurry, so let’s get this show on the road.”
She stared at him in annoyance.
He was observant, she’d give him that. He walked to the cockpit as he left the joint that had gone out on a crystal ashtray and motioned to Fern towards the four passenger seats.
“Take a seat, you can meet the crew later. Teliall is quite the trek. Good thing you paid more than enough,” he winked before turning around.
She would need to learn exactly how much passengers paid for space travel or she would be out of coins far sooner than her father likely anticipated. Fern watched his shoulder-length, black hair fall into his eyes as he squinted at some type of map system inputting coordinates.
She wondered how her life had gotten to this point. Tiredness filled her body, her mind grew too tired to analyze her current situation further. She sat down in the seat at the back. Life was in Fate’s hands now. The sadness that had been following enveloped her closer, like a clingy, old friend.
The captain glanced back at her.
“To the stars young Fern.”
He slumped into his seat, pressing buttons and shifting gears Fern could hardly comprehend.
“I’m twenty,” she deadpanned, already sick of his arrogance.
He replied with his back turned away and a wave of dismissal.
“Semantics. A year younger than me still.”
Fern’s stomach twisted in the knowledge that someone barely her senior was about to fly her across the universe. He looked much older than he appeared but he also looked tired and exhaustion aged us all.
“My father was a smart man. This is important,” Fern suddenly felt the need to utter.
She felt like an obnoxious child, no longer familiar with herself. Grief was making her intolerable.
If his writing was true, her life was about to change even further beyond losing him.
With a careless smirk and taunting wink Captain Lucas replied.
“Dead men tell the best tales.”