“What, are you saying that you can’t read facial expressions?”
“I know some faces, but here there are many I do not know.”
Lyrah sighed. “You can’t read facial expressions.”
“I can.”
“But not all of them, and especially not the subtle ones.”
“What is subtle?”
“Small.”
“Yes, small faces, they are hard.”
Lyrah was finally understanding him. Cueseg was misreading her anxiety and nervousness as attraction. That’s why he thought she wanted to have—well, wanted to be intimate with him. “You’ve never wanted to have…relations…with anybody,” she said.
“Of course not, and if they ask to have sex, they show they are weak and have no control. I show my body so people want sex, but must be strong to control. It is given honors in my home so others can learn to be strong. I am not to have sex. And you show your control in the same. I do not know you are stronger than I think.”
It was light-blessed hard to keep a reign on her emotions with all this talk of sex. “That’s why you go about half naked?” she asked. “Not because you want to be attractive, but to teach, or force, others to control any desires that might come from your appearance?”
“This brings honor in my home. Anyone who knows to master their body show that it does not bother them to be seen naked, and do the same for other. For me who is master, it is not right that I wear clothes.”
He says he’s clothed while being half naked, Lyrah thought, but it’s clear from our first meeting that Cueseg prefers to wear nothing but shoes and adornments.
“Well it’s alright when you’re away from your home, Cueseg.”
“Yes, I know this now.”
“Good. Thank the Light that’s cleared up. I’ve found where this boy was headed and commandeered a ship that’ll take us to Treremain. Once there I should be able to pick up his scent again.”
“Then let us be off.”
Chapter Ten
Though we destroyed the Shade nightcasters, escaping the Underworld was another matter entirely. Thus began another part of my life I wish I could forget. We hoped Day had returned to the land, but until we could get back to the surface, we didn’t know. There were still thousands of Shade infesting those terrible halls. It took a year to escape—yes, a year. It was like the passages changed as we moved through them. Calling the Underworld a labyrinth is apt.
How did we survive? Food and water wasn’t an issue, for there were ample insects and mushrooms to eat, with underground waterways common. Sometimes we had to stay in the same cavern for weeks just to rest and resupply. What made survival difficult was the constant fighting and darkness, in addition to the other horrible creatures that live in the Underworld. We would have become Shade ourselves if not for the Lightbringers. By the end, all that was left of the hundred-thousand-strong assault was a mere hundred.
Many mighty Archknights had fallen.
* * *
It’s late and I’m tired,” Daylen said, looking out the window into the shining day. “We’ll leave outfall. There’s some dried fruit in that cabinet if you’re hungry.”
“You certainly seem to know your way around,” Ahrek replied.
“My um, father, always kept dried fruit in the cabinet, and apart from that it’s not hard to figure out where things are.”
Daylen grabbed an old spare blanket from the sagging mezzanine that hung halfway out overhead and spread it on the floor. “The beds is yours. Oh, and I snore like thunder, so good luck with that.”
“I can’t take the bed. This is technically your house, after all.”
Daylen lay on the blanket. “Too late, I’m already here.”
“I’ll not force you out of your own bed.”
“Then sleep on the cold hard floor for all I care, but I’m not getting you a blanket, not when there’s a bed you could have slept in.”
The old wooden bed eventually creaked as the Lightbringer lay down.
Daylen lay looking up at the roof of his old cottage, letting his mind wonder.
So the Light had sent a Bringer to watch over him, either in answer to his prayer for help, or for some other reason the Light only knew. Daylen didn’t know how to feel about it all. On the one hand, knowing that the Light was mindful of him enough to send a vision to a Lightbringer was both comforting and deeply troubling.
I wonder how I’ll forge a new identity with Ahrek at my side. Maybe I could lose him in the capital long enough to do what I need?
Things were going to be very different with a constant companion, one that Daylen wasn’t even sure that he liked, but it was the Light’s will and he couldn’t exactly deny it again—especially not after all his mistakes.
Daylen awoke instantly in High Fall when the Bringer began to get up.
Rubbing his neck, Daylen sat up and fully registered things around him. There was a sweet smell in the air. Had Ahrek made breakfast?
“Rise and shine,” Ahrek said as he ate at the tiny dining table.
“Is that sticky bread?”
“Mmm, yes. It’s quite good.”
Sticky bread was made from fresh rolls with caramelized sugar and ground hassrum sprinkled over it, all dipped in cream. It was a damned delicacy.
“Where in the world did that come from?”
“Oh, I made it.”
Daylen stood and sat on the other side of the table. “Not with the ingredients in this house, and I know you didn’t leave, so where did it come from?”
“The Light.”
“The Light?” Daylen asked, before realizing. “You can perform the miracle of creation!”
Ahrek nodded, holding out his hand over the table between them. Light began to glimmer above his palm, and then shifted to take a shape. The light molded itself into the silhouette of something on a plate—and then, as the light faded into the shape it had adopted, it stayed in place, revealing a fresh roll of sticky bread.
Daylen took the offered delicacy in awe.
He was familiar with all the miracles Lightbringers could perform, although each Bringer could only perform two. The miracle of creation was not necessarily rare—each miracle was as common as the next—but it was one of the most valued and revered. With it, a Bringer could create literally anything equal to their mass. The larger and more complex the object, the more it drained them. Lightbringers were limited to the number of miracles they could perform according to their stamina. They could even kill themselves if performing a miracle too great, though many Lightbringers at the end of their life sacrificed themselves to perform one last great miracle. No longer restricted in scope due to their safety, it seemed this last miracle had no limit, except in the types of miracle they could perform in the first place.
Daylen knew that this was how the Great Lumatorium was built, or created. One of the early Lightbringers who possessed the miracle of creation had at the end of his days sacrificed himself to perform a mighty miracle and created the Lumatorium out of an incredible burst of light. The Bringer was utterly consumed in the process.
“Sticky bread is my favorite,” Ahrek said, “and because of that, it’s easier for me to create than other simpler foods.”
“I didn’t know it worked that way.”
“Yes, the more familiar I am with an object, the easier it is to create, and I can make more of them than other things.”
Daylen took a bite of the bread. Light, it was good. He sat on the other side of the small eating table which was right next to one of the hovel’s windows. “This is an unexpected bonus from your presence. Can I expect such fine food in every meal?”
“It depends on the type of food.”
“Tuerasian cuisine?”
“I’ve never been good at Tuerasian food. It’s very complex. The result will likely taste horrible.”
“But you are Tuerasian.”
“By blood, yes, but I was raised Hamahran.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot more
Hamahran-born Tuerasians these falls thanks to the Dawn Empire.”
“We should not credit the Dawn Empire with anything.”
“Look, my father was a bastard, I get it, but that doesn’t mean everything he did was terrible. The metric system is far better than anything previous. His roads, education policies, and slave laws are still in place—why? Because they work. Yes, he conquered nations, but also opened up the border to allow free trade and migration. It was because of that that your own parents and countless other Tuerasian were able to move to Hamahra. One could even say it was the open borders that enabled his downfall.”
“First of all, any improvement at the cost of freedom and life is never worth it, nor does it justify the means. Also, I expect that you’re referring to the fact that Rayaten Leusa was Tuerasian, implying that it was the open borders which allowed him to grow up to lead the revolution, facilitating the Conqueror’s downfall. What you’re not realizing is that, if it hadn’t been Rayaten, someone else would have done it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Daylen said. “Rayaten was a right persistent and slippery bastard, or so my father described him, clever enough to match wits with the Conqueror himself.”
“Really? What else did your father say about him?”
“Oh, my father actually respected the man quite a lot, and was very grateful to Rayaten for ending his reign. If the Conqueror could have met him, he would have hugged the man.”
“If Rayaten found out that the Conqueror hadn’t died on his flagship as everyone thought, he would have hunted out the tyrant to finish the job.”
“Probably.”
“Regardless,” Ahrek said, “from what I saw of the revolution, there were many people capable of fighting against the Great Tyrant. Not to mention the knights. The Conqueror’s fall was inevitable.”
“I agree with you there,” Daylen said, passing his empty plate back to Ahrek.
Once Ahrek took the plate, it dematerialized into light which flowed into the Bringer’s hand.
Now that was interesting, Daylen thought with a raised brow. “You can turn things you’ve made back into light?”
“If little time has passed. It certainly makes washing the dishes easier.”
“What other miracles can you perform?”
“Well, the two miracles all Lightbringers have: create light and heal.”
“And the other is creation, but can you perform any more?”
“One more: the miracle of movement.”
“Oh. Telekinesis,” Daylen said, sitting at the table.
“You know the miracles.”
“Yeah, but how does it work? You just move things with your mind?”
“You’re almost right. It’s with thought that I can take hold of things and by thought that I move them, just like moving my arm, but my mind isn’t the thing actually moving the object—it’s light.”
“So you can’t move anything in darkness.”
“Correct.”
“But can’t you just create light and then move things as normal?”
“No, my inner light is what powers my miracles, and projecting that light from my body means I can’t channel it to do anything else.”
“I see. How much can you lift?”
“I can lift ten times the total combined strength of my body.”
“Interesting,” Daylen said. “That would be what, a ton?”
“Two at the very most, though with great effort and not for very long.”
“Still, that’s some true power.”
“It is, which is why I use them with great care.”
“Like making breakfast?”
“Indeed.”
“It didn’t drain your powers too much?”
“My powers can’t drain in that sense—no man can lose their inner light—but my body has limits as to how much light I can channel through it.”
That was very similar to how Daylen’s own powers worked. He never ran out of light to draw upon, but his body couldn’t channel it constantly.
“Then you’re not too fatigued?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Thanks for making…I mean, creating breakfast. It was delicious.”
“Do you know why they call it sticky bread?” Ahrek asked.
“Please don’t say it’s because it’s sticky.”
“No,” Ahrek said, chuckling. “Because it’s made from bread.”
Daylen rolled his eyes. “That is not funny.”
“And yet I’m laughing.”
“Well they clearly don’t teach what constitutes real humor at the Lumatorium.”
“I wasn’t trained at the Lumatorium.”
“So you became a Lightbringer naturally?”
“There’s only one way to become a Lightbringer, but I understand what you mean.”
“You ever been there?”
“I’ve served several years, though not consecutively. Everyone goes there to be healed, so it’s the best place to find the sick and needy. But there are many who can’t travel, and it’s them that I seek out most.”
“That’s noble of you, but considering who you are, not surprising.”
“Thank you. You’d be surprised how many animals I end up healing while traveling through these rural parts, although birds require a different tweetment.”
Daylen stared at the man. “Terrible.”
Ahrek laughed. “I thought that one was quite good.”
“Terrible.”
“You are far too serious, Daylen. Learn to laugh a little.”
“Oh, I laugh. You’ve heard me laugh, just not at your pathetic jokes.”
“Okay, you tell me a joke.”
“Fine. How do you make a person ugly?”
“How?”
“Ask your mother.”
The Bringer didn’t laugh. “That was rather mean,” he said.
“It was just a joke.”
“Jokes don’t need to be cruel; and when cruelty is involved, it is never just a joke.”
“Look, we clearly have different views on what’s funny.”
“Yet your joke didn’t even make you laugh.”
“I wasn’t supposed to. Jokes are supposed to make others laugh.”
“And that’s my new goal. I’m going to make you laugh—not the sarcastic laughter I’ve heard so far, but true, joyful laughter.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Thank you.”
Daylen rose from his seat, having finished his meal, and walked to the other side of the room.
He took a key that hung on a ring with several others and began rummaging through his things.
He knew exactly what he was looking for, his most prized possession. Finding the chest, he pulled it out.
The chest hadn’t been touched in twenty years, the lock stale and stiff. Luckily, the key still opened it.
Ahrek’s shadow passed over Daylen, the Bringer now looking over his shoulder.
The Bringer gasped when Daylen opened the chest, asking, “Light, is that really Imperious?”
Chapter Eleven
At the surface we were met with blessed day.
I vowed then that, if it would ever be within my power, I would find a way to eradicate the Shade once and for all to spare future generations from what we had endured.
We left to pick up what was left of our lives, and thus began the Fifth Day. Fifteen years of hell and darkness had ravaged the world, just like the other Nights before the one we had endured.
Starvation was rampant in those falls, and the aristocracy didn’t do a blackened thing about it. They made sure to feed themselves, but not the people. I could remember my anger at that—the righteous passion that coursed through my veins. I was a captain due to my service through the Fourth Night, and as one of the few survivors of the great assault, I was respected and even revered by many as a war hero. I used my influence to reason with the aristocracy to feed the people. I even proposed new irrigation systems of my own design, but my
designs would send the aristocracy into poverty themselves, and they denied my proposal.
But I didn’t give up. I was a thorn in their side, constantly confronting them and telling the people of their crimes, rallying support, and building my profile.
* * *
Yes, this is Imperious,” Daylen said reverently in reply to Ahrek’s question.
Imperious was the legendary sunforged sword of Dayless the Conqueror. It was a beautifully crafted swept-hilt sword that at the moment appeared to be made of polished obsidian. Being a sunucle, its oversized blade didn’t match any standard sword type, as sunucles weren’t restricted to the weight of steel. The sheathed blade was as wide as his hand and over a meter long.
“But it should have shattered upon your father’s death…” Ahrek said in confusion. “Unless he isn’t truly dead!”
“Don’t be an idiot. Clearly the link has passed to me.”
“What? Sunforged links can’t be passed on.”
“Yes, and as uninformed as you are about sunucles, you really shouldn’t throw around accusations based on their function.”
“Then by all means, educate me.”
Daylen smiled. Ahrek was right to question him, of course. Sunforging was the process of bonding light to an object, which increased that object’s power similar to how Lightbinders bonded light to themselves. The issue was that light couldn’t be bonded to any nonliving thing unless the blood of a living person was placed within the object first, linking them to it and enabling it to be sunforged. The blood of animals simply didn’t work. The drawback to this was that if the sunforged object, called a sunucle, were destroyed, it would severely injure if not kill the one who was linked to it; and likewise if the living link died, the sunucle would shatter.
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