A Symphony of Stars

Science-Fiction / 3500 words

PREFACE: This is not the Silius story I had announced—I’ll explain in my monthly round-up next Wednesday. Instead, I offer you this little story I wrote a few months ago. Enjoy.

The journeyman popped into the sky, high above the clouds, and dropped toward the ground.

“Hell no!” he shouted as he scrambled for his amulet... which no longer hung around his neck, where it had been minutes ago. He cursed. “This is hardly the time to play tricks on me!”

That was when he noticed the ring. Shining brightly. Taunting him.

As he pulled it off his finger, he scanned the expanses underneath and spotted a large body of water.

He threw the ring down. It hovered and grew in size, just enough for him to pass through.

When he came out the other side, he was only a few feet above the water. The friction of his passage through the ring had slowed him down, but he still hit the surface hard and sank to the bottom of the lake.

Using his feet, he pushed himself back up, and soon burst out of the water, gasping for air. The ring slipped back on his finger as he swam to the bank and crawled out, grumbling while the wind whistled in his ears.

Falling from the sky was never fun. Not that it happened too often, but every once in a while something would go wrong with the device. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn’t the amulet playing tricks on him.

He turned to wash his face and drink some water, but froze when he saw his reflection.

He had the body of a female human, the legs of a bear, and the head of a giant grasshopper.

“Oh boy,” he muttered to himself.

As he drank, the whistling became more persistent and grating on his nerves.

He’d heard it while dropping from the sky, but had assumed it was because of the fall. He understood now it was something else.

Listening more intently, it seemed like there was a melody in that sound.

Standing, he pulled the ring off his finger. He plunged his other hand inside, and the circle expanded to let it through. Knowing what he needed, it only took a second to feel the object materialize in his fist. He pulled and a small book popped out of the ring.

It had a gold-framed cover with no inscriptions on it, but the symbol of infinity. There were only a dozen pages within—all of them blank.

He flipped a couple of pages, stopped, and used the tip of a finger to shape letters on the surface. The words appeared in black ink: “Music in the wind.”

When he was done, he turned the page, and other words appeared. Whole paragraphs explaining the nature of this world, and how the music was the sound of the earth communing with the air.

So this was one of those places, he pondered, where nature was alive.

He scanned the surroundings as he put the book back into the ring. A frown formed on his brow as he noticed little details that seemed off.

Floating debris. Star-shaped holes in the ground. Clouds that shifted colors as they formed.

He approached one of the holes and looked inside.

It was like looking at the night sky.

Though it was day above.

His frown increased.

There were even stars down there.

He looked up and saw a piece of earth float nearby. It seemed to have been ripped from the ground. Its shape matched one of the holes.

Reaching out, he grabbed it and tried to pull it down, but it would not budge.

Another melody rose in the air, covering the whistling of the wind. This one came from singing throats, he could have sworn.

It drifted from the south.

With one last glance at the hole, he turned and walked toward the voices.

On the way, he spotted more holes and floating debris. He was careful not to step into any of them. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he did, but he didn’t care to find out.

As he walked, the singing grew in volume and intensity. He could make out many voices, both male and female.

Trees lined his way, but soon they parted and he saw a group of humans working in the fields near a stream.

He remained within the trees for a moment, watching and pondering.

A sound from behind him made him jump. He turned and saw a young woman staring at him, her eyes wide. She suddenly dropped the basket she held and fell to her knees, bowing her head.

“Oh, great Kapaka! You bless me with your presence! How may I serve thee?”

He blinked, confused.

“What?”

The woman did not look up.

“Order, and I shall obey. It would be a great honor for one such as I to be your servant, oh mighty god of the gods!”

He stared at her for a long time.

Was this a joke? He was a journeyman, not a god!

He squinted at the bright green ring on his finger. He could sense the amulet’s snickering conscience within.

“You think this is funny?” he asked with annoyance.

“Oh no, Great Kapaka!” The woman pressed her forehead against the earth. “I would never dare make light of your divine presence!”

He looked back at the woman and sighed.

“I did not mean you. Rise, child.”

The woman did so, hesitantly.

“How may I serve you, my god?”

“Please, don’t say that. I—”

“Have I offended you?”

“No, no, of course not!” He sighed. “What is your name?”

“I am Yuelin, great god of the gods.”

This was going to get old fast, he could feel it.

“What is this place called?”

The question took the woman by surprise.

She blinked a couple of times, daring to look at him in confusion.

“You do not know where you are, my god?”

He clicked his tongue. “Pretend I’m stupid.”

“I would never!”

“Just answer my question,” he insisted.

He could have just looked up the answer in his book, but he was concerned about how the woman might react to seeing such an item come out of a ring. Then again, she already thought he was a god, how much worse could it get?

“This is Naqad, my god.” She gestured toward the singing humans. “And we are the Naqadians.”

If he was here, it was for a reason. Barring a prank from his amulet—which he wasn’t ruling out just yet—these humans must have a problem they needed help with.

“What troubles your people?” he asked.

The woman looked away, embarrassed.

“You should not concern yourself with the trials of mere mortals, my god.”

He realized he might get better results if he played the part. With a resigned sigh, he approached Yuelin.

“Look at me, child.” She did so, hesitantly. “A god’s purpose is to care for his flock. You are troubled, I know this, and it displeases me. I would have you and your people smile and be merry.”

Though the humans sang, their song was not a joyful one. It was filled with sorrow and melancholy.

“Well, if you must know... It is the Berkans and the Feheni. They oppress us because we are different, when all we want is to live in peace.”

“Is that all? In that case, I will speak with them, and we shall resolve this. In the meantime, I will give you and your friends a taste of the peace you crave.”

The journeyman had read thousands of books in his long life—how could he have not? It was his purpose, after all. He had learned many tricks, including techniques to soothe the soul and wipe unpleasant memories. It would not last, of course—the mind was a resilient thing—but it would help for now.

He held out a hand and pressed two fingers against the woman’s neck while swiping the palm of his other hand across her forehead.

Yuelin blinked a couple of times, then fell to her knees.

“Oh great Kapaka! I am blessed to be in your presence.”

The essence of his gestures carried through the air, and soon he heard the chant take on a more cheerful turn.

“And now, child, if you could just—”

One moment he stood in front of the young woman, the next he fell from the sky.

Again.

Using the ring, he ended up in the same lake and swam to the same shore.

Feeling confused, he stepped out of the water and looked around.

Things were different.

The sky was darker.

The whistling was gone.

The floating debris and the holes in the ground were larger.

He pulled the book out and looked up the same entry he had before... Except it was gone. No mention of music in the wind.

How was that possible?

He frowned.

The journeyman spent several minutes browsing different topics, but it only made him feel uneasy.

It was as if the world had suddenly changed its rules on him.

That made no sense.

Or was it a different world?

No, it couldn’t be. There were too many similarities. And all the names Yuelin had mentioned were referenced in the book.

He closed it and tossed it back inside the ring.

“I hope this is not you pulling my leg again,” he grumbled as he put the once-upon-amulet back on his finger.

It shone and snickered at him.

At least, he thought it did.

With a sigh, he turned to the north, where he knew from his reading that he’d find a Berkan village.

***

He was still a few miles from the village when he saw the smoke. It rose from the trees, straight ahead.

As he approached, he slowed his pace and studied his surroundings.

There was a small stream nearby, and he could see animals grazing in the fields. None of them seemed frightened by his presence.

The smoke, he soon discovered, came from a chimney on the roof of a hut.

He walked up to the door and knocked.

A large bear opened it.

But the journeyman knew this was a Berkan.

The creature looked him up and down. Hmphed and took a step back.

“Well, come on in! Don’t just stand there in the sun. You’ll catch your death.”

The journeyman did not mind it, but he knew the Berkans were sensitive to the heat.

He walked in.

“What brings the great Kapaka to my humble abode? I am Gnosh. Please sit.”

The bear motioned toward a chair that was twice his size, but the journeyman sat regardless.

“I would like to understand why your people oppress the Naqadians?”

Gnosh snorted. “Oppress them? Ridiculous! Preposterous! They and the Feheni are committing genocide upon my kind, when all we want is to live in peace.”

The journeyman frowned. Something was off. Well, more than one, to be fair.

“Have you talked to them about it?”

The Berkan hermit threw his arms in the air.

“How can we when we do not understand what they say, or they us?”

So language was an issue.

“I will find a way to help you communicate,” he said as he stood. “In the meantime, I shall appease your soul.”

He lifted a hand and, as he had done before, pressed two fingers against the bear’s neck while swiping the palm of his free hand across its forehead.

Gnosh blinked a couple of times, then nodded.

“I thank you, Kapaka, for this gift of peace. It shall be cherished.”

The journeyman smiled.

“It only is my duty. Now, I shall—”

One moment he stood in front of the hermit bear, the next he fell from the sky.

Again.

Using the ring, he ended up in the same lake. Now more annoyed than confused, he swam to the shore and jumped out of the water.

He stared at his ring.

“What are you doing?”

It just shone defiantly without responding.

He brought his hand down and glimpsed at the sky.

It was much brighter.

The floating debris were now floating boulders.

He saw one, in particular, that hovered above the lake. An enormous block of rock with a glowing circle drawn on its surface. It almost seemed alive.

The holes in the ground were gone.

Instead, he found the stars in some of the other floating rocks—as if they had been captured in cages of stone.

He pricked up his ears, but still the whistling winds remained silent. If anything, it was even quieter now.

Pulling the book back out, he flipped through the pages, bringing up the topics he had consulted twice before. Though the entries were all still there, the details had once more changed.

How could this be?

A world could not change in such drastic ways, not to mention in such quick order.

What was going on?

He glanced again at the ring as he set off toward the east, where he knew he would find the Feheni... and, he hoped, answers.

Before he could reach their camp, he fell into an ambush. Giant grasshoppers surrounded him, tied him up, and carried him off.

He was tossed harshly to the ground in front of their Empress.

She hissed when she saw him.

“The accursed Kapaka dares come before us! Look now, my sweets! Before the sun goes down, he will beg us for his life. But we shall show him no mercy. Just like his beloved Naqadians have shown us no mercy. Just like his beloved Berkans have shown us no mercy.”

The journeyman blinked.

“What?”

“You will pay for their crimes. For the war they wage upon us, when all we want is peace.”

“They want peace too,” he remarked.

“You lie! And you shall die for it.”

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You are beloved to me just as much as they are. I would do you all justice and bring peace to your lands.”

“That you cannot do! Nor would you want to, for it is well known that the powerful Kapaka feeds upon terror and death. But you do not seem so powerful anymore now, do you?”

Had the nature of their god changed as well? He had not thought to check that entry. Just his luck.

“Now,” continued the Empress, “we only but need to decide on how—”

“Enough!” cried Kapaka as he jumped to his feet. “I will not endure this one second longer. You—”

One moment he stood in the middle of angry Feheni, the next he fell from the sky.

“Not again!” he cursed as he used the ring to fall into the lake.

Once back on the shore, he sat on a boulder and looked at the floating boulders—now larger than Gnosh’s hut.

The holes in the ground were back, though they were now chasms. Chasms filled with stars. Stars that sang to him, luring him to jump. Jump into the void, to become one with the symphony of stars.

Not even bothering with the book again, he buried his head in his hands and tried to understand.

Could it be a dream? No, that was not possible. First, his device could not take him into something as abstract as a dream. Also, if it were a dream, things would be much more unstable. Whereas here, there was a pattern. Things only seemed to change based on his actions, as if he was an intruder.

His head snapped up, eyes going wide.

Pulling off the ring, he snatched the book out from it and wrote a simple question with the tip of his finger: “Is this world real?”

The answer came, just as simple: “No.”

“I knew it! Very well, then.” He activated his traveling device and a wormhole portal opened before him. “Take me into the real world.”

He stepped through.

***

It was night, but the sky was bright as three full moons shone from above.

He stood in a large garden with beautifully pruned trees, elaborate sculptures, and massive statues. A stream snaked nearby. But what he noticed most of all were the mirrors. They were everywhere.

The reflection they threw back at him showed that he now looked like a male human in his mid-thirties, with trimmed black hair, brown skin, and a triangular amulet around his neck. He glanced at it with a frown before turning his attention toward the stream.

There, on a small platform, was a desk and a chair. On the chair sat a man in a rainbow robe, hunched over the desk, mumbling to himself.

“I knew it!” cried out the journeyman.

The startled man jumped out of his chair and turned to face his visitor. He was old, that much was obvious... very old. With long white hair and a long white beard that flowed down to his waist.

“Who are you?” he asked with a trembling voice. “How did you get here?”

The journeyman pointed at the desk. “You’re a writer!”

The old man looked offended by the proposition.

“A writer? A writer? Ha!” He stepped aside and pointed at the desk. “You, sir, are sorely mistaken. I am a worldmaker.”

Floating above the desk was a small globe. Clear patterns could be seen on its surface, in the shapes of continents.

The journeyman blinked as he slowly approached.

“What is that?”

“That, mister stranger, is my latest creation.” The old man frowned. “Though I must admit it is giving me grief.”

“How so?”

The other sighed. “I decided this would be my last project, as a parting gift to the universe. I am tired, you see. It is time for me to sleep my final sleep. So I want this one to be perfect. I thought my millennia of experience would make it a simple task. I was wrong. No matter what I do, my subjects wage war upon each other. I am about resigned to admit my kin were right. Sentient beings will always resort to violence.”

“They cannot communicate,” muttered the journeyman.

The old man turned a puzzled look toward him.

“What?”

“Why did you make Kapaka?”

The artist squinted at him.

“How do you know that name?”

“I am a journeyman,” he said with a shrug. “It is my business to know things.”

“Is that so?” The worldmaker paced back and forth. “I had hoped he would serve as a unifying figure. But again, I was wrong.”

“I think he still could... If you made him real.”

“Real?”

“Gods are distant, symbolic, useless. What your people need is a leader. One who understands their differences and can help them see the things they have in common.”

“There is not much they have in common.”

“And that’s the other thing... Let them speak the same language.”

The old man stared at him like he was crazy.

“The same language? Unthinkable!”

“Why?”

“It’s just not done. It would not be proper. Different civilizations need different cultures, different languages, different—”

“Then give them common ancestry.”

He laughed. “Do you know what my subjects look like?”

“I do, actually.”

“They are as different to each other as the sun is to the moon.”

“It need not be so.” The journeyman pointed at the floating globe. “I’ve met the Naqadians, the Feheni, and the Berkans. All of them want peace. All of them think the others want war. They do not understand each other. Because they do not speak the same language. It should be easy enough to fix.”

“But—”

“Do you want perfection?” The old man frowned but nodded. “Then perhaps it is time you change the way you do things. If the old methods do not work, why persist?”

The worldmaker contemplated his creation.

“But they have nothing in common,” he muttered.

“They have Kapaka. You gave them all the same god. It would be a simple thing for their religion to state they are all his children. If so, why would they not speak the same language?”

A slight smile formed on the old man’s lips as he sat in his chair and waved his hands above the globe. He began to softly chant and stars twinkled between his fingers.

The journeyman walked away and activated his portal.

He glanced over his shoulder one last time, then stepped through.

Want to read more of my science-fiction? Check out these titles, if you haven’t already:

• What One Sows, One Must Reap (alien technology and human conflict in the far future)

• Malarqi and Thyme (time travel in ancient Greece)

If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to forward it to your friends or to share it on social media.

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Thank you!

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Text (c) 2023 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock image, edited by me.

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