Tears of a Heart

by Chase Blackwood

  “Do you think he’ll make the announcement tonight?” Aeden asked clasping a hand onto the monk’s shoulder, swallowing away the rising lump of emotion in his throat.

  “He’d better, the day’s been dragging by like cold dripping honey.”

  “You think your day’s been slow. I spent half the morning watching Jerome pretend to understand piety and watching Bosco attempt to smile. It was awkward. He looked like a scared dog.”

  Adel looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bosco smile, what a truly terrifying experience.”

  Aeden laughed. His merriment was quickly followed by a stab of worry. What if Adel was chosen, then who’d he have to make jokes with? He attempted to stifle the emotion.

  “You and Odilo will likely be chosen,” Aeden said trying to sound nonchalant.

  Adel cast an eye to Aeden, studying his expression for a moment.

  “Only Salvare knows.”

  “And the abbot,” Aeden said.

  “Right, and the abbot,” Adel replied stopping at the threshold to the refectory.

  Adel gave Aeden his best smile of reassurance before entering the dining hall. Aeden stood at the doorway for a moment, his stomach churning away at a hidden knot of anticipation.

  “Fear is but an old friend who’s worn his welcome,” Aeden whispered to himself as he followed Adel in, remembering the words the widow Ayleth had told him more than once growing up.

  The dining hall was already full. Normally the dinner bell rustled many from sleep and they’d wander in rubbing their blurry eyes taking their time to stumble in. Today everyone looked bright-eyed and anxious. Even the candles seemed to flicker differently.

  A hand clasped Aeden’s shoulder. Turning Aeden saw Odilo. Odilo smiled, his eyes twinkling as if he had just heard a good joke. Aeden scooted over making room for his friend, pushing Adel none too gently, earning him a mock stern look.

  Blaise stepped into the doorway looking for a seat. Many of the monks looked up, forcing Aeden to look back toward the entrance. He silently cursed himself for choosing a seat with his back to the entrance. He’d now be forced to look over his shoulder every time a monk’s eyes tracked a newcomer in the hopes it would be the abbot.

  Blaise nodded to a few of the monks in greeting and took a seat. Aeden watched him for a moment before glancing over the contents of the table in a feeble effort to quench his fluttering stomach. Barley bread, butter, salt, and a rounded dish with a red spice he hadn’t tried before adorned the dark wooden surface. A bowl of simple fruit lay on either end of the table. He studied the fruit for a moment as he noticed a few monks glance toward the doorway again.

  Aeden shifted in his seat as did Adel to glance at the doorway. Odilo remained seated facing forward, ever quiet and content. Monahan stood at the doorway surveying the room in a knowing manner. His round face seemed to hold a secret as he smirked upon the seated crowd. Jerome and Bosco were quick to follow. The three of them circled the long table eyeing a few available spots toward the end.

  As Monahan was taking his seat yet again monks looked to the doorway. It was becoming tedious, but Aeden couldn’t help himself and he looked back once more. It was Abbot Filbert. Some of the earlier fidgeting had stopped and a deeper quiet settled over them like a widely cast net.

  “Senior,” the monks said in unison, their voices forming a counterpoint to the silence.

  “May the Holy Order Rise again,” the abbot replied with greater strength in his nasally voice than normal.

  The abbot surveyed the scene in a way that Aeden imagined a king would. A haughty air of self-righteous betterment surrounded him, giving him the appearance of greater importance. It would seem that there would be an announcement today after all. The abbot cleared his throat and the monks stirred in anticipation.

  “Please, don’t wait on my account, grab your dinners, eat!” He said.

  One could almost feel the disappointment in some of the younger monks’ faces, Aeden’s included. With a shuffling of feet and general noises of movement the monks made their way into the kitchen to retrieve their food. Aeden grabbed a wooden bowl that lay stacked on a shelf. He waited his turn as each monk stepped forward. Each monk held their wooden bowl in front of them as one of the kitchener’s staff slopped two large spoons of pottage into their bowls. The pottage was a mix of grains, vegetables, and meat.

  Aeden’s bowl was filled with the mushy soup-like content. He nodded briefly to the serious cook then stepped forward following the monk in front of him. He recognized the dark haired, pale features of Thomas. Aeden watched as Thomas grabbed a large hunk of cheese and couldn’t help smiling to himself. The image of him sniffing at it and hiding it in his trunk passed through his mind. Aeden grabbed a piece for himself and followed the gray-robed figure back into the dining hall.

  Once seated none stood on ceremony as they dove into their meals. Monks plucked at the bread on the table, some smothering it in butter before soaking it in their pottage. Others grabbed at the salt and spice to flavor their meal. Aeden tried a pinch of the red spice in his pottage. It added a tingling flavor similar to spicy pepper and garlic, a definite treat.

  It wasn’t until most of the monks were nearly finished with their meal that the abbot broke the relative silence.

  “Monahan would you please,” Filbert said gesturing toward the portly monk.

  Monahan nodded to the abbot and struggled a moment to extricate himself from the bench. He then stepped past a vaulted archway and out of the refectory into a smaller room usually used for storage. It was one of the entryways to the undercroft. An image of a thick wooden door, untouched, resting heavily in the middle of an otherwise over-filled basement leapt into mind. He hadn’t thought on that door for weeks, which was strange since he was normally attracted to the unknown. Perhaps now that he was more comfortable at the monastery he could find out what was behind the door.

  Within a moment Monahan returned with a small leather-bound book. His sausage-like fingers began the tedious task of finding the correct page he desired to read from. His mouth opened and he licked his lips before he began.

  “A passage from the Book of Divinus.”

  A few startled expressions were chased about the room jumping from face to face as if fleeing from the far end of the hall. Aeden figured they must have copied the holy text to ensure its preservation, while the abbot deliberated on who would join the pilgrimage.

  “And so the blood of bulls and sheep, the ashes of Treton’s fall, venerate those who have passed, so that soldiers of Salvare may populate the lands, enduring hardship and disease, knowing the judgment of the lord within their hearts, so that the fruit of heaven may bestoweth powers of purity and sanctity upon those whose souls are clean of virtue and beholden of the light.”

  Monahan carefully closed the book and walked to the abbot. Filbert held out his hands, accepting the text with a gracious bow of his head. Aeden watched in fascination.

  “What in the hells did that mean?” Aeden whispered to Adel.

  Adel elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Neri looked up from across the table and smirked. Monahan returned to his seat and Abbot Filbert addressed the waiting monks.

  “It’s our turn to spread the holy word of Salvare, the pilgrimage begun by Dominer the Pure will resume at the Fallen City of Treton and continue northward through Gemynd before going seaward to the great southern kingdom of D’seart.

  “Those who will accompany the book will have to be brave of heart, strong in character, and accepting of Salvare’s way. It has been a difficult task for me to choose who will go and who will stay.” The abbot paused affecting a look of deep concern, before continuing, “Remember those who remain will reflect the virtue and strength of the monastery, and as per order of the magistrate will be allowed beyond the white walls of our temple and onto the streets of the Red City once more.”

  There was a pause as the abbot allowed the words to settle in. The monks looked at each ot
her, many smiling in excitement. Quite a few had lost some weight under the strict rules, while a few grew rich from their brother monks’ desires. Aeden felt a weight lift off his shoulders. If he wasn’t allowed to join the pilgrimage at least he’d have the opportunity to further explore Bodig. Maybe there was a chance he would run into the archduchess. His elation was cut off by the nasally voice of the abbot.

  “As for who will accompany the great book,” the abbot paused pulling out a piece of parchment. His old fingers fumbled for a moment as he struggled to unroll the text. “Brother Bosco of The Plains, Brother Neri of Sha’ril, Brother Adel of Bodig, Brother Odilo of Bodig, Brother Thomas of Gemynd, and Brother Aeden of…” Abbot Filbert seemed to search for words, then seemed to think better of it and continued.

  “For those who I have not called, please understand the decision was difficult and required hours of prayer and the guiding hand of Salvare. For those who have been chosen, please meet me in my room.”

  With that the abbot stood, holding the copied text of Dominer the Pure under his arm. With one last glance about the room the abbot strode out leaving the monks to chew over his decision.

  Chapter 24

  “And so their feet tread upon the ground with the sanctity of the lord deep in their hearts.” Book of Divinus

  Aeden looked at Adel who wore a similar expression of shock. How was it they were chosen for the pilgrimage?

  “It appears we’re to be on an adventure,” Odilo said ushering them out of the room.

  Outside the refectory in the cool stone corridor was Thomas. Standing nearby leaning against the wall was Neri. They were like salt and pepper. Where Thomas was pale and blue-eyed, Neri was dark skinned with ebony eyes, studying the group with a detached expression. The last to exit the dining hall was Bosco’s tall, skinny frame. He ducked into the hallway his face a carefully concealed mask of disdain.

  “Let’s get to it,” Thomas chirped as he fidgeted with his hands, earning a few looks.

  Aeden glanced about at the group. Were they picked for their youth and potential stamina? Aeden wondered if someone didn’t want them around the monastery. His mind instantly went to Monahan, but if that were the case why was Bosco part of the group? Before his thoughts could travel too far into the shadowy corners of church politics Neri spoke.

  “Interesting group he chose, isn’t it?” he said to no one in particular his words vaguely echoing Aeden’s thoughts. “I wonder how a novice was chosen for the pilgrimage,” his eyes briefly settling on Aeden, emotionless as a wide body of water.

  Neri’s look of detached indifference clung to him like a second skin, marking his words as more of a statement. One that Aeden was wondering himself, but didn’t dare ask. He realized he had been harboring the secret desire to leave the monastery and see the greater world. If he had been forced to stay while Odilo and Adel left, he would have been miserable.

  The group made their way down the corridor toward the stairway to the second floor. From there it was a quick jaunt to the second level. They followed an open-aired corridor around a corner toward the abbot’s quarters. From this side they could see the final light of day. The sun was setting, casting long fingers of golden light upon one edge of the courtyard below. The group paused at the threshold.

  Aeden looked across the courtyard toward his hidden alcove, realizing for the first time he would no longer need that spot to see the world. Part of him felt saddened at the thought. Thomas stood next to Adel and Neri, all eagerly waiting at the threshold of the abbot’s room. The door stood open, waiting.

  “You may enter,” came the muted nasally voice of the abbot.

  Thomas, Neri, Adel, and Bosco entered leaving Odilo and Aeden standing in the vaulted corridor. Aeden was still leaning on the stone railing. Odilo stood next to him for a moment looking across the courtyard toward the corner with the blood-orange trees.

  “No more dreaming, it’s time to see the world for what it is,” Odilo said with a light grip on his arm.

  Odilo’s hand slipped away as he turned and entered the abbot’s room, his slight limp and bald head now infused Aeden with feelings of warmth and security. Aeden nodded briefly to himself and followed him in.

  The room was quite lavish. There was a tall wooden cabinet filled with books. Silver candelabras stood like luminescent sentinels in each corner, casting back the darkness. A bed rested languidly in the corner. Last a simple table and two chairs hid behind the open door. It was what was on the table that drew Aeden’s attention. It was the Book of Divinus, a map, and six leather purses.

  At the center of the room stood the squat figure of Abbot Filbert. He looked at each of them appraisingly, a glint of intelligence twinkled in his eyes. Aeden had always assumed he was rather daft, but now he began to reassess the older monk.

  “My brothers, welcome and congratulations!” Filbert said with a dramatic flourish. “Your devotion and discipline to the old ways have garnered you a place on this sacred task.” The abbot glanced significantly toward the book resting heavily upon the table. “There are some things you must know before you depart, for the roads may not be as safe as they once were.”

  Bosco glanced about as if looking for an exit. Neri raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained nonplussed. Thomas appeared to be the ever perfunctory student, nodding his head in apparent understanding. Aeden just stood quietly, listening.

  “I have dispatched pigeons to our sister monasteries in Gemynd,” the abbot continued.

  “We have pigeons?” Aeden asked innocently in surprise.

  Odilo placed a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him, as the abbot gave him a stern look.

  “As I was saying, I have dispatched pigeons, and yes we have pigeons.” His overly narrow-set eyes locked onto Aeden’s waiting to see if further interruption would follow. It didn’t, so he continued. “Two have returned. One with a message of welcome, the other with a word of warning. It appears the son of Geobold has died, leaving Gemynd without a legitimate heir. This has begun a quiet power struggle for the throne as the Emperor’s soldiers have set up camps to deter unwanted behavior and ensure the peace.

  “As monks of the Holy Order of Sancire you should have no trouble. You’ll still be welcomed into peoples’ homes, allowing for warmth and food to rest your travel weary legs. However I’m a realist and expect there will be times you need to pay out of pocket. Upon the table are six coin purses to be used only in dire need, and most importantly to secure passage aboard a ship for your eventual journey south.”

  Bosco now looked white in the face as Adel gave Aeden a broad grin. Aeden took a step closer to the table and leaned forward to look at the map that lay next to the worn Book of Divinus.

  “I see Brother Aeden has taken an interest in the map,” Abbot Filbert resumed. “Please, stand around for it shows the path I wish you to take.”

  The monks squeezed behind the door and stood shoulder to shoulder in the tight space looking down upon the map. It was a crude piece of leather painted in faded lines demarking political territories and the rough location of key cities. A fresher red line showed a simple path traversing a few key cities.

  “Since Aeden seems to be the most eager I only think it appropriate that he be responsible for your navigation.” The abbot then took a moment to appear pensive. It was a passable act that lasted the length of a slow breath. “Odilo is the most senior of you and shall be in charge. Thomas you are familiar with Gemynd and will provide whatever insight you feel is necessary to your brother monks to prevent any,” the abbot looked up thoughtfully as if trying to find the word he was looking for painted on the ceiling, “cultural misunderstandings. Neri will do the same for the southern leg of your journey, providing language and translation as needed. Last, Bosco.”

  The abbot glanced at Bosco then to the old copy of the Book of Divinus. “It will be your duty to keep the holy book safe, only to be shown to the monasteries marked on the map, so that they can make copies of it, before you resume your journey.r />
  “May Salvare watch over you, guide your steps, and the light be bright upon your backs.”

  The abbot then watched as each monk took a purse. Aeden rolled the map and held it firmly in his hand, his other hand clutching the coin purse. Everyone watched as Bosco reached for the Book of Divinus. The energy in the room was palpable as though they feared the book would burst into flame upon contact. Bosco picked it up and nothing happened, the feeling passed like a wisp of smoke.

  “Take this to help keep it safe,” the abbot said handing an oiled cloth with elaborate markings to Bosco.

  With those final words Filbert shooed them out with outstretched hands as if herding chickens out of a coop.

  PART THREE

  Pilgrimage

  Chapter 25

  “The virtue of the spoken word can paint a picture that will fill a thousand pages.” An Arkeinist’s Written Manual, Second Edition

  Gemynd was an interesting place. In the first age there was a history of draccus fiend attacks that forced the residents to live in the hills and underground. Toward the end of the first age the draccus fiends became fewer in number and retreated to The Isle of Fire far to the north. This allowed the nomadic peoples of Gemynd to settle and build cities. The sudden freedom to build created an artistic renaissance of architecture and expression heretofore unseen in Verold. Great cities were born and dedicated to various ideals of aesthetics. By the end of the second age Gemynd had become one of the greatest kingdoms of the land. Soon thereafter news of this wealth spread and drew in the wild tribes from the Gwhelt. There were numerous raids, in which institutions of learning were burned to the ground, wealth was stolen, and women were taken as slaves. The nobles of Gemynd reacted by seeking out the secret members of the Syrinx to enlist their services to defend the land. They were only partially successful, for they found a member of the Arkein, but not a true defender. The wizard they found was twisted and although he did play a large part in ending the raids it was at a terrible and bloody price. Since that time any form of magic was looked upon with great distrust and zealous anger. It was because of this the annalist despised any interactions with those to the north, the rhabdophobes of Gemynd.