Tear of Light

by Michael Edward Tenner

  The man laughed. “Very well, then!” he shouted. “Didn’t mean to startle ya three, it’s after what happened us folks here have to hold tight, we wouldn’t want to deal with a bunch of rebels.” With those words, the man left and rejoined his table loudly, informing everyone they were no rebels.

  Narra and Arick looked at Oren in amazement; even he was surprised and proud of himself.

  “Then I guess two rooms will suffice,” laughed the innkeeper. “Tell you what, you’re the only people staying overnight, so a silver for both room.”

  Quickly Narra regained her composure, “Of course,” she said, and from behind her, Arick handed the innkeeper a silver coin.

  “No need to be out come morning,” she said, smiling. “We’ll talk tomorrow if you’d like to stay for longer.” She handed them their keys, one for Arick and one for Oren and Narra, and directed them to their rooms. A small metal piece had a number etched into it, it was the same as the one on the door of each room.

  Oren inspected the key. Even it was different, polished, and decorated with beautiful ornaments.

  They climbed up the stairs and found their rooms. For a while, they deliberated, after Arick’s suggestion, that he and Oren share a room, and Narra is alone, but she quickly put a stop to that. While Oren’s story made them seem more sympathetic, they did not want to raise any suspicion.

  “You are amazing!” almost shouted Narra the moment Oren closed the door to their room. “Why did I not think of that?” She laughed.

  “It wasn’t that clever,” Oren replied, hiding his blushing cheeks. “The fewer lies we tell, the better.” Narra nodded with a smile. “What now?” he asked, looking at the two-person bed.

  With a puzzled looked Narra looked at him and said, “What do you mean? I say we go to sleep.” It took a while for her to realize, “Right. You’re Berian.” She chuckled. “Don’t worry. We don’t play the genders game.” Leaving him confused, she began undressing in his full view, causing his already pink cheeks to become even redder.

  In nothing but her shirt and underwear, Narra walked closer. “Don’t be shy,” she said, amused.

  “We should try to make some money before we go,” Oren said in an attempt to alleviate his own embarrassment.

  She sighed. “You’re right. It’s always better to go with some coin to our name. I’d feel bad making Arick pay for everything.”

  Oren looked to the twin bed. “Let’s think of it tomorrow.”

  “There’s a bathroom if you need to wash yourself,” said Narra and pointed to a door opposite of the bed. “You can go first.”

  He thanked her and carefully, as if some untold danger awaited there, opened the door. The room was small, with a wooden bath full of water and a table with a few spheres of colored glass.

  He went inside and touched the water. “It’s cold,” he shouted.

  “The red one,” said Narra with a slight chuckle. “Throw it in the water.”

  Oren did as she said. He took the red pearl and threw it in. He jumped back as the water inside turned red.

  When the color disappeared from the water, the little ball appeared on the surface clear white. He touched the water, it was now steaming hot.

  He looked to Narra, who was audibly laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You looked like a child discovering reheating for the first time.”

  “That’s what you use magic for?” Oren asked disapprovingly. “Where’s the moving of mountains and fighting phoenixes?”

  With a slight chuckle, Narra rolled her eyes. “This is far more useful than any fighting. Also, the blue one will clean the water, works only once, though. Magic takes a lot out of a person, and not everybody knows every spell, so there are things like this. The vials my father gave you worked similarly. Magic bound to liquid or object.”

  “By the gods.” Oren shook his head. “Fair enough. Thank you.”

  As he closed the bathroom door, he heard Narra laughing. “Be careful, the water may eat you.”

  The warm water was miraculous. After coming out and drying himself with a warm towel, Oren felt better than ever before. Such a bath was indeed something special. If only he could stay longer but his eyes were closing, and was Narra surely waiting to also take a bath.

  Freshly bathed, he walked out in nothing but his shirt and shorts. Narra was lying on the bed, also barely holding her eyes open.

  “Hi there,” she said, getting up. “Good. My turn.” Quickly she ran into the bathroom, undoubtedly excited to relax.

  He looked to the bed. The covers seemed so soft. When he dried his hair, he tossed the towel onto a chair, stashed in a corner, and threw himself onto the sheets. Just as he predicted, the covers were softer than anything he’s ever touched before.

  If he wanted, he could fall asleep then and there. He let out a long, drawn-out yawn. The excellent bath behind him, his mind was at ease, unbothered by the worry of the world.

  “If you want to sleep, then go ahead,” Narra shouted from the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He was shocked by hearing her words. How could she waste such a magnificent bath? He forgot to reply as he buried his head in the softest pillow and began to slip into the land of dreams.

  Just as Narra said within a minute or so, she walked out. “I am so tired.” Without hesitation, she jumped into the bed next to him. “Make some space.” She pushed him more to the side.

  Tired, Oren looked at her as she cuddled up to the soft blanket they shared. If only his past self saw him enjoying such imperial luxuries. He smiled at the thought. “Is this how it’s everywhere in the empire?” he asked, looking at her, unaware a wide smile rose on his face.

  “Not exactly,” she replied. “Natind is a young town by imperial standards, so generally it’s a lot better. I heard that in Carlion, they have room magically sealed and filled with either cold or hot air. I guess it does come handy when living in a desert. Cold nights and warm days don’t make for the best place to live.”

  He smiled almost, not knowing whether to believe it or not. “Is that really what you use magic for?” Since he was little, he remembered being told of the evil magic did, of destruction and fire. Warming up baths, keeping rooms at a specific temperature; it was all knew, even seemed too good to be true.

  “It is. Magic changes a lot, lamps on the streets can be lit with a snap of one’s fingers. Meat can be put into frigid rooms to be frozen and not go bad. Horses eat well, making them faster. Each regional capital has a translocation crystal, placed in what is called a citadel. From there, a person, even one with no magical ability, can be transported to another city in a blink of an eye.”

  Holding his blanket tighter, he began to slip, but he still had more questions to ask. “The storm. How can that magic be the same?”

  “Magic can do everything. It’s all about what you command. Most of the spells that prince Morael would use, including the storm, are known by very few. The commoners, we, use it cool down a cup of water or beer, not to move mountains.”

  Oren tried to understand, but most of what Narra said went against all he knew, all he was taught and told by people in Beria. “If magic can do so much good and yet so much evil, how is it fair for only a few to hold such power?”

  “It’s not.” She chuckled. “But it is their property. The book of Areon, where all the rules of ancient Sesterian are written, belongs to them, no one else. Even if not an emperor, the Vi Deras could take and not allow anyone to look. It was their ancestor who created it.”

  He sighed. “Thank you.” Only a little he understood, but he had no strength to ask any more questions.

  “Time to sleep?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Sleep well, Narra,” he said in a cheerful tone of voice. For once, ever since his last embrace with Efri, he truly felt well and happy. Much worry laid in his mind, but just this once, he allowed himself to abandon it all.

  “You too,” Narra replied, and they both fell asleep almost instantly.

  Oren woke up covered
in sweat. It was dark, only the blue light of the moon shined inside and reflected from the polished floorboard. His heart was racing, and he was confused. Of course. It was a nightmare. He tried but couldn’t remember, maybe it was for the best.

  Next to him, close and cuddled up, slept Narra. He could barely see her, but he felt her warmth. With her sleeping, it was the first time in weeks he was truly alone.

  He lay on his back, leaned his head on the wall behind him, and let out a quiet sigh. A lot of things passed through his mind, but one thought he couldn’t escape. Efri. He knew Istra would give him no answers as not even the prince knew where she was. In the end, what else could he do but stay with Narra and Arick?

  Failure. In all ways possible, he failed his only friend, the person who mattered the most. Blinded by hatred for people that deserved none of it, he ran and left her alone. He wished to see her again, to watch her smile and laugh, crawl under a table after a night of drinking.

  Remembering the times, they shared, tears flooded Oren’s eyes. He killed people, he felt life escape their bodies. Not even Nika, or Rin, deserves to die. Those, he could argue, were just two, necessary deaths, but without him, Beria may have not rebelled, and he wished not to know how many died there. If only he were not such a coward and escaped earlier.

  “What’s wrong?” he heard a silent whisper. Narra cuddled closer. “Did something happen?”

  He wiped off his tears. “No. Go back to sleep.”

  “Tell me,” she whispered and sat next to him, leaning on his left side. “Was it a bad dream?” He shook his head, holding back more tears. “What was it?”

  “Everything. All I did,” he took a deep breath, “just brought people pain and suffering.”

  She let out a chuckling sigh. “What a load of nonsense. If you weren’t there, I’d be dead or still with Ceril. I’m grateful.”

  Unable to hold his tears, he looked at her, and she, needing no words, wrapped her arms around him. Then she pushed down on his chest, forcing him to lie back down. She cuddled close and hugged him again. “Good night,” she whispered as Oren continued crying.

  “Thank you.”

  They woke up with the sun high up on the sky, surely it was almost noon and time for lunch. Their stomachs growled, ready to eat. After putting on their clothes, they left the room. On the way, Narra knocked on the door of Arick’s room, but no answer came, not even after she bashed on them with her fist.

  Running down the stairs, they saw the innkeeper on her knees, washing the dirty floorboards. She looked at them, not stopping cleaning, “Morning, you two sleepyheads.”

  “Mornin’,” they greeted her back and praised the comfortable bed.

  The innkeeper smiled, glad to hear some words of praise. “Take a seat lovelies, I’ll be right with you just as I’m done with this here.”

  Narra pointed to a table in a corner by the window. The chairs not being broken and held together by a couple of loose nails was the most surprising thing to Oren.

  While waiting for the innkeeper, they looked around searching for Arick, but he was nowhere to be found. Just as the innkeeper ran up to them, asking if they’d like to eat, they inquired if she saw him.

  “I did,” she replied. “He came down shortly after sunrise, ate, and then left the town. I saw him walk through the south gate.”

  The two looked at each other. “Why would he do that?” asked Oren. “I thought you two knew each other.”

  “We did,” Narra replied, similarly confused. “Let us order.” After rummaging in her pockets, she found a couple of coppers and silvers. They ordered a modest lunch.

  Narra sighed. “Well, we have no choice but to go now. Without Arick, we can’t afford the room.” Oren agreed.

  The innkeeper walked to their table, placing the platters of food before them. “Forgive me lovelies, I overheard your conversation, and, if you don’t shy away from hard work, well, I need people to clean rooms, take care of guests, and so on. Most folks refuse me after what happened. I’ll pay well.”

  They looked at her. “Yes!” Narra shouted before Oren could decide. “Thank you so much.”

  “Good,” she replied. “You’re starting tonight. The food’s on the house today as well.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened here?” inquired Narra. “We do not shy away from anything really, but what has gotten people so afraid?”

  The innkeeper sighed with a wave of her hand. “Prince Morael of all people traveled through the town if you can believe it, accompanied by two girls and the archon of Istra. From what I’ve heard, the owners were killed by an assassin sent to murder one of the two women, or even prince Morael himself. Unsurprisingly the assassin didn’t succeed in killing his targets but he did take lives of the two owners.” She sighed. “It was a bizarre thing to happen, but I can assure you the prince won’t be staying here again any time soon, so you’re safe.”

  With the two of them satisfied, the innkeeper ran to continue polishing the floor and cleaning the tables.

  Oren and Narra enjoyed a lunch of tasty food and drink. Not a word they said while eating, their stomachs were so empty their mouths were always full.

  Afterward, they explored the town. With the spare money, he and Narra bought some supplies - new clothes mainly; what they wore the day before was soaked and filthy. They asked about prince Morael. Oren was sure Efri was there with him, but he could not know for sure.

  While browsing clothing items in the general store, they found out the muscular man from yesterday owned it, and as an apology, he gave them a few sets of older clothes he didn’t intend to sell. They were thankful and ended up talking with him for quite some time, mostly discussing their plans for the future.

  When the sun set, Oren and Narra got to work. They were both worried, but even though people got drunk quickly, no fights broke out; no one vomited on them or touched them inappropriately, all of which was common in Beria.

  By the end of the day, they made ten silvers in tips plus their ordinary salary of twenty. The innkeeper praised them both.

  Before going to sleep, Oren spent even longer in the bath he did the day before. While falling asleep, Narra hugged him, just like during the night. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said snarkily, seeing his blushing cheeks, “It helps me fall asleep quicker.”

  He smiled as they held each other. If that was the culture of the Empire, he was not opposed to it. Strange, but so very loving.

  Scraps of Humanity

  Just like the past few days, Efri woke up as tired as when she lay down. Feeling as if she slept almost not at all, her entire body drained of nearly all strength.

  The light that never dimmed shined through the thin silk covers on the window. She growled and got out of the hard, uncomfortable bed. With a long yawn, she stretched her back, washed her face in a bucket of water. For a while, she stood there, wearing nothing at all, observing her own body. The little symbol they burned into her skin was still there, like a scar that would never heal.

  With a tired sigh, she put on the clothes Askard gave her. A light blue shirt, trousers, a nice comfortable pair of boots, and a light jacket with a hood attached to it, a way to hide from the light.

  She came out, clothed, and not at all, ready for yet another day there. Askard was sitting in the main room, eating what looked like a piece of week-old bread. “Morning,” he said with his mouth full of the disgusting food. “Slept well?”

  “No,” she replied, moodless. “I don’t get how you get any sleep here.”

  He chuckled. “When you’re born under that sky, the light shining on you from the moment of your birth, I guess it’s easier.

  Hearing that made her gaze into his broken glistening eyes yet again. She was enamored by them, by the beauty of destruction. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish it were not like this.”

  With a laugh replied, “It’s time I told you. Isn’t it?”

  “It’s been two days, Askard. I want to know what I can do.”
She begged him all day yesterday, but he refused to tell her. While she had to accept, her eyes were falling, and she only barely stayed away.

  He sighed and swallowed the last piece of his meal. “For now within you rests a little amount of power. It’s no ordinary power either, it’s Vi Dera’s power. A single crystal filled with such pure magic could sell for a lot.”

  “Is that all?” she asked, thrown into utter disbelief. “You waited days to tell me that?”

  “Well,” he averted his gaze, “it may be painful, and it is very dangerous. Vi Dera’s power is very different from anything found here. A crystal may not even contain it.”

  She shrugged. “Worth a try.”

  “Glad to hear that. I send a message to the proprietor for the crystals. We should get three dozen of them to come by tomorrow. If that fails I spoke with a friend. Unrick is his name and he says that a different, larger crystal which he owns could harness such great power. I did not tell him what kind, but that option is also on the table.”

  They talked further about their plans. Askard explained the nature of the crystals and how they hold power and can be withdrawn to cast rudimentary magic, but Vi Dera’s should be able to do much, maybe even cure Light’s Curse, the shattered pupils of their eyes.

  “I talked with Arry yesterday, a fun boy,” said Efri, finally changing the topic.

  “He’s fun. Found him four years ago in a city down south. What a poor kid. Lived with his parents on a makeshift farm between the two cities. They died, and he had to bury them himself.”

  Before they could think about the poor boy’s past any longer, a young voice, belonging to no other than Arry himself, entered the house. “Efri, Efri!” it called. Arry came running in. “Here you are!” He stood before them, smiling and looking at her and Askard with hair full of dry mud.

  “What did you do, Arry?” Askard asked with a disappointed sigh. “Didn’t I tell you not to get dirty again?”

  The boy averted his shattered eyes. “You did, but I fell, I swear! Well, Torrick pushed me and I pushed him back and then he pushed me again. I didn’t start, so it’s not my fault.”