Tears of a Heart

by Chase Blackwood

  A hand grabbed his, startling him. Two words were uttered in broken Sagaru, “We go.”

  With that Aeden was led away from the immolation, his mind reeling with thought.

  Chapter 14

  “The Holy Order of Sancire predates the first age and has lent a heavy hand in shaping the course of history.” Book of Galdor a Brief History of Verold

  Questions began to burn an aching hole through his mind as he was led away from the chaos. The sounds of shouting slowly faded like the last embers of daylight. He followed a bald man down serpentine alleys. He recognized the man; he had been part of the robed group of three. Where were the others?

  Aeden watched him struggle slightly with a limp as they crossed larger streets and passed all manner of buildings. It was a blur to Aeden for he couldn’t remove the image of the burning man from his mind.

  “Wait,” Aeden said planting his feet.

  The man stopped and turned to face him. His intense eyes bore through him as if reading his very thoughts and examining his soul. Aeden felt naked before his gaze and hardly noticed the light wrinkles about his eyes, the scar running down one cheek, and the faint smile that touched his lips.

  “Who are you?” Aeden asked, the question suddenly sounding stupid to his own ears.

  The man hesitated as if he didn’t quite understand the question before responding. “I am me, who else could I be?” he said in his thick accent, the barest hint of a smile creasing his eyes.

  “Why did you take me from the plaza?”

  “Plaza?” the man asked in confusion.

  “Why did you take my hand,” Aeden said pointing to his hand in exasperation.

  “You are not safe there,” the robed man said pointing to where they had come from.

  “Where am I safe?”

  “With me safe,” he replied.

  Aeden shrugged. It was like communicating with a child. He looked about hoping a more enticing alternative would present itself. It didn’t. He felt the control over his life slip through his fingers like melted snow. Aeden sensed he had been swept up by the current of some mysterious hand, flowing uncontrollably toward some unknown catastrophe.

  “We must continue before they come,” the man said.

  Aeden glanced at him, watching him nod gently. The man nodded again and smiled as he grabbed Aeden’s hand. They continued through the maze of a city.

  It felt strange to have another man hold his hand, perhaps it was their custom. He didn’t resist as they cut down a larger street, the milling masses pausing to stare. A tall white haired adolescent in leather armor with a large shroud cat skin on his back being led by a smaller, limping man in gray robes must have cut a curious sight.

  They passed the stupefied throngs and came to a quieter part of the Red City. In this section the buildings were taller and the street was a touch wider. The red-tinged cobblestones carved a path up a hill toward a building with a single ivory tower reaching for the hot sky. The tower was capped with a steeple copper roof. A single copper circle caught the sunlight, glimmering above the roofline.

  There was a series of steps leading up to the white stone building. Its neighbors appeared to shy away, their red faces revealing their shame before the salient construction. The building’s bleached skin was vaguely reminiscent of fresh milk. It was pleasant to see something not the color of crimson, Aeden thought.

  He struggled to control his expression as the bald man led him up the steps to the massive copper doors. On each door hung a large circle nailed to the center. He hardly had time to appreciate the exterior as he passed through the doors and into the cool interior.

  Tall graceful columns were punctuated by copper plated archways. Gray cushions adorned the floor in carefully placed rows. The floor itself was a simple light-gray stone illuminated by two circular openings in the ceiling. The central nave was flanked by two corridors. Thick candles rested silently before smoke stained walls.

  A tug on his hand broke his gaze. Aeden continued to follow the man through the massive building toward a small wooden door in the back. The door was open and they entered a smaller and shorter corridor. The ceiling was a half circle of vaulted stone. There were a few open rooms that punctuated the otherwise austere hallway.

  They passed the rooms and emerged into an open courtyard. A stone pathway cut a square about a garden of fruit trees, flowering plants, and what appeared to be vegetables. The air was heavy with the scents of wild flower and sweetened by an unknown citrus. Aeden breathed in the perfume-like smell as he passed arched supporting columns.

  Before they could get much farther a fat robed figure stopped them.

  Aeden’s attention was inexplicably drawn to the larger monk. A simple rope sash was tied about his waist. It was mostly hidden under a rotund belly that pressed heavily upon his worn robes. His eyes were set too close together exacerbated by a stern expression expertly painted upon his portly features. His closely cropped hair did little to hide the fact that he was balding. His eyes were small and beady. In all the man reminded Aeden of an oversized mole.

  Aeden was so mesmerized that he hardly noticed the fat monk begin to speak. He spoke in hushed whispers to the one who had led him thus far. Aeden couldn’t understand a word that was said, but the facial expressions and hand gestures were enough to garner understanding. He wasn’t welcome and the scarred monk shouldn’t have brought him here.

  The man who had taken him into the building pointed to Aeden and murmured something unintelligible. The discussion ensued. Finally the larger man waved a chubby hand dismissively and stalked off. The one accompanying Aeden turned toward him and took in a breath, recomposing himself. After a moment he smiled and spoke.

  “I am sorry for him; he is not of good temper. You are now with us, a brother. I take you to room and then food.”

  Aeden nodded as if he had spoken with the clarity of a nightingale. The robed man then led him toward the cloisters adjacent to the courtyard. The entire complex was larger than Aeden would have imagined.

  They entered a room with several wooden chests spaced evenly along the wall. The room was otherwise barren. The robed man paused by one of the trunks and pointed.

  “You,” was all he said pointing a finger toward a wooden chest under a window.

  Aeden opened the storage box and found a single blanket inside its otherwise empty interior.

  “You put now,” the man said gesturing for emphasis.

  Aeden glanced up to see him indicating his pack and animal skin. Aeden, however, was reluctant to part with his items for they were his only reminders of home and all that he owned.

  “No light hands here,” the man stated as if those words should bring comfort, his intense eyes gazing through him laying bare all insecurities.

  With a final nod of encouragement Aeden placed his pack into the chest. He closed it hoping to find a lock of some sort. There was none. It would have to do for now, what other options did he have?

  The man then rubbed his stomach and pointed to Aeden.

  “Do you mean to ask if I’m hungry?” Aeden asked.

  “Yes. Let us eat food together,” he said.

  Aeden nodded his affirmation. All he had eaten was a strip of dried meat. His stomach grumbled as if it too wished to voice its hunger. The man turned toward the opposite side of the courtyard.

  It was there that a small kitchen sat adjacent to a rather large dining hall. The dining hall itself was stark, simple, and to the point. Wooden benches graced the tables. A few candles provided light and a sense of warmth.

  “Do not speak,” the man whispered to Aeden as he indicated a seat at the table.

  Aeden and the man weren’t the only people within. Approximately two dozen men with short cropped hair in gray robes sat on the benches. They had watched him enter with curious eyes, but none said a word. Two of them smiled, while the others remained expressionless. A few made quick gestures with their hands.

  Aeden nodded to them and mimicked the gesture he h
ad seen the man at the plaza perform before lighting himself on fire, two hands placed together at chest level. This garnered a few raised eyebrows in response.

  His escort disappeared into the neighboring kitchen and soon returned with two cold bowls of stew. They both sat and ate in silence. It reminded Aeden of home. It felt good being amidst a group, even if they were strangers. It was strange what one misses when memory stirs.

  The following day Aeden woke early. Odilo, the bald, limping monk who had recruited him was by his side. He covered his mouth as if to indicate they weren’t to speak. Aeden complied, looking about groggy eyed. It had taken him a good long moment to realize he wasn’t on a forest floor, but instead in the heart of a large building within a massive city.

  The night of tossing and turning returned to him in a flash. He had only just truly fallen asleep. Most of the evening the ceiling overhead seemed threatening, like a boulder resting precariously on a ledge waiting to fall. The air felt stuffy and was filled with the smells and noises of over a dozen men.

  He did his best to blink away the tired feeling in his eyes. His mouth felt sour and his back was sore. The perfect time to begin chores he thought. The sun hadn’t even made its way to the horizon beyond the windows.

  He looked about in the candle light, his eyes adjusting to the gray shapes moving about in a languid stupor. They performed simple chores; folding blankets, sweeping floors, and emptying chamber pots. Aeden joined them. The movement felt good.

  Once the chores were completed he was led to the main hall. Aeden recognized it as the one he had entered the day earlier.

  The vast space looked different in the darkness of morning. The great circular windows above were cast in shadow. The pillars appeared as dark trees amidst a stone clearing. Yellow candle light cast the stones in warm hues.

  The monks shuffled through the open space to the cushions laid out upon the floor. They took seats and began to pray aloud. Their voices were the deep sounds of rumbling thunder upon a grassy plain.

  Aeden closed his eyes and felt himself transported. What would Devon think if he were here? Aeden couldn’t imagine a more different life than the one he’d been leading back home. His hand slipped into a pocket and gently caressed the lock of hair he had taken from Dannon. Tears began to swell in his eyes and he opened them, his hand falling back to his lap.

  Aeden looked upon the audience that had gathered for Morning Prayer in an effort to distract himself. There was a scattering of older patrons of middling wealth who graced the open areas and mumbled the appropriate responses to the prayers. Many of them were looking at him intently. His long white hair and leather armor must have looked like a wolf among sheep.

  He hastily wiped any remnants of tears from his eyes. His face flushed red and he dropped his gaze to the floor, casting shame to the pits of hidden sorrow.

  Aeden’s legs grew numb before they were finally finished. He noticed that one of the younger monks had been looking at him on and off with a look of curiosity and compassion. As soon as he caught his eye however, the monk averted his gaze. He looked familiar. Was he also at the plaza the day before? Images of the crowd standing in quiet reverence as a man burned before them flashed through Aeden’s mind.

  The monks formed a solemn line. Aeden shuffled in behind a tall and awkward looking monk. He followed them as they worked their way to the refectory for a simple morning meal. He recognized the dining area from the day prior. It was a simple stone vaulted room, with an entrance to the kitchens on one end and a smaller subsection with a stout wooden door on the other end.

  Once seated about the table the monks began to fidget with their hands; pointing, communicating, gesturing. Aeden took it all in with the wide-eyed curiosity that only youth can maintain.

  He didn’t eat much despite being hungry. His stomach was unsettled and his mind was anxious. The environment was so new. Everything had changed in an instant. Aeden felt like it wasn’t long ago that he was sitting in the Shrine of Patience, counting each passing hour. Now he sat in a dining hall half a world away. Every sudden gesture or movement caught his attention and caused his muscles to tense. He felt like a fish plucked from water, gasping for breath.

  He nibbled on some barley bread as he watched monks slowly finish their meals and stand. They filed into the kitchen with their plates. He watched a pale young monk leave as Odilo tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow him into the corridor.

  “We are busy today, you and me,” he said.

  Aeden nodded, slightly startled at hearing someone speak.

  “Follow and we begin,” Odilo said gesturing for Aeden to fall in behind him.

  Odilo led him away from the dining area past the courtyard, down a corridor to a closed room. A thick wooden door rested heavily at the end of the stone walkway. Odilo worked the metal latch as Aeden waited looking about.

  With a small shove Odilo pushed the door open. A wisp of humidity and the smell of lavender immediately accosted him. Aeden paused at the threshold looking inward.

  Behind the wooden door were two large baths of water lined by stone. The waters were calm and still, small clouds of steam dancing at the edges. An old man sat in a chair, struggling to get up as they came through. He had the look of a man startled from the dream world.

  Aeden couldn’t help but wonder how they kept the baths warm. His mind raced through a few possibilities before he realized Odilo had continued past. He watched Odilo approach the old man and decided it was safe to follow. He stepped into the room pulling the wooden door closed behind him. He glanced at the large stone baths before looking over at the two monks.

  Odilo and the old man engaged in a verbal exchange. Aeden watched the old man as he spoke. He had a sore under one of his eyes that was most distracting. It seemed to have a life of its own, jumping up and down as the man spoke. After a moment the old man fell quiet and Odilo turned to Aeden to translate.

  “Your hairs must be cut,” Odilo said.

  Aeden’s hand moved reflexively to his hair. Perhaps he had misunderstood.

  “What do you mean?” Aeden asked, hoping he had misheard.

  “We cuts your hairs,” Odilo said slowly, miming the action of scissors cutting hair.

  There could be no mistaking the words. Aeden glanced back at the door. He thought about leaving. He had no ties to this place, to this man.

  They wouldn’t understand the shame of cutting one’s hair short, of admitting defeat. For the Thane long hair was a sign of respect and strength. What would his father think? Would Devon let his hair be cut without a word, without a fight?

  Odilo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his piercing eyes gazing intently upon him.

  “I understand you do not want. You are here now, here is different than old home. Old home is not good here, people will want to damage you,” Odilo said struggling with Sagaru.

  “I don’t understand,” Aeden said.

  Odilo paused as if contemplating how to explain his meaning.

  “Like this,” he said pointing to the scar running along one side of his face.

  Aeden looked at the scar for a moment, his imagination quickly taking the reins. He was tempted to ask how Odilo had gotten it, but somehow felt that now wasn’t the time.

  He glanced at the old man, his gaze inadvertently fixed on the puss filled boil under the old man’s eye. Odilo nodded to Aeden encouragingly, as if he were a young boy about to attempt a daring feat. It was foolish he realized. He was still of the Thane, long hair or not. Nothing could take that from him. Not a draccus fiend, and not some old man with scissors.

  The old man struggled to move toward Aeden and indicated that he sit in the wooden chair he had been occupying. Aeden sat. His back was rigid. The old man seemed unconcerned as he began to cut Aeden’s hair. White wisps fell to the ground in a cloud. The grimacing image of his father appeared in Aeden’s head.

  “I will avenge you father,” Aeden whispered quietly, knowing his father’s immortal
soul still clung to this earth waiting to be released.

  The old man wheezed something unintelligible in the Heortian language. Aeden attempted a smile. The old man merely nodded and snipped one final piece before standing back.

  With little fanfare the torture was complete. The old man issued a satisfied grunt as he patted Aeden on the back. Odilo smiled and nodded his approval.

  “Very good,” he said. “Now you get clean.” Odilo pointed to the bath water. “Give me cloth. I take to room with your stuffs.”

  Aeden glanced at the old man and Odilo before stripping down and handing his clothes over to Odilo. As he was about to slip in the water he shouted a quick word at Odilo’s retreating back, “wait!”

  Odilo turned with a quizzical expression upon his face. Aeden walked to Odilo and fumbled through the pockets of his rumpled clothing before his fingers graced the lock of Dannon’s hair. He held it tightly in his fist and thanked Odilo.

  The bald monk limped out of the damp room leaving Aeden alone with the old man. The old man had collapsed back into his chair and fell asleep. With a shrug Aeden lowered himself into the water and bathed.

  His skin began to prune and wrinkle by the time Odilo returned for him. Odilo brandished a gray robe much like the one he was wearing along with a simple rope sash. Aeden got out and slicked the water off his body with his hands before taking the robe. He slipped it over his head and found a simple pocket tucked into a fold. He placed Dannon’s lock of hair into the pocket before tying the sash about his waist

  “Yes, very good,” Odilo said before gesturing for Aeden to follow him. “I show you place now.”

  Aeden’s eyes lit up. He was curious about the monastery and had almost woken up to explore as the others slept. Yet the thought of Odilo getting into trouble for his new guest wandering about caused him to remain in the stuffy cloisters, lying awake listening to the others fart and snore.

  Odilo led him back down the corridor toward the large open cloisters. Sunlight now cut a path diagonally across half the courtyard casting some of the plants and grass in light.