Toren Daen
I sipped my stew gratefully, savoring the warmth as it went down my throat. It was the familiar hearty recipe Greahd always made, the at and veggies slowly filling up.
I watched the festivities from a small distance away, noting the change in everyone present. Greahd had recently started up her small gatherings for the community again. A large bonfire roared near the canal, spreading heat to all who needed it. Snow coated the ground all over East Fiachra, but in this little section, there was none to be found.
It had been a month since the collapse of the Joans. The people here didn’t magically get better now that the supply of blithe was removed, but I thought I could see an unusual cheer in the eyes of the people as they conversed and celebrated.
It would’ve been around Christmasti in my previous world. A ti for companionship, family, and brotherhood. Alacrya didn’t have Christmas, but they did have a New Year's Festival.
A man bumped past as he andered toward the fire, turning to with surprise.
“Sorry about that,” I said, waving. I’d been slowly getting lost in my own thoughts, not looking where I was going.
The man, who had lost all of his hair and was wearing a ragged brown coat, blanched when he saw my face. He tucked his head, muttering apologies as he scrambled off.
I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I andered back to a thick log and sat down with a heavy thump. Whenever sobody spotted , their eyes sparked with hesitation, and in the worst cases, fear. It was obvious in how they quickly averted their gaze, seeming to find the packed dirt increasingly interesting.
It reminded of the last ti I’d participated in this gathering. I had nearly been killed by a lucky knife, and then I’d threatened a man in front of the entire crowd. To these unadorned n and won, mages were synonymous with power. They didn’t understand , so they feared .
It made my heart clench whenever I saw them shuffle away from , my mind drifting to the dancing joy I had experienced when I joined them in their festivities. Around , people found solace in each other. I was alone.
“You’re looking glum,” a voice said from behind . “I think you could use so company.”
I turned to look at Hofal, knowing I couldn’t suppress the expression on my face. He sat down next to slowly, complaining slightly about his back.
The shield’s sideburns were beginning to grow out slightly, and a bit of a beard ford around his chin. His thinning hair, however, wasn’t cooperating with that. It stubbornly refused to grow.
We sat in silence for a mont as I stewed in a helpful dose of self-pity. Greahd was serving bowls of stew nearby, and she was pointedly keeping at arm’s length. I didn’t know how to treat her now after my success with the Joans.
“You know, you could try and talk with them,” Hofal offered, pulling out his pipe. “I heard what happened here last ti from Naereni. You handled yourself well, all things considered.”
“They don’t seem to think I handled anything well,” I said a bit bitterly, gesturing to the collage of people milling about. A young boy almost tripped as he ran after another, kicking up dirt onto the legs of an older woman. She didn’t even seem to notice. “Considering every ti I approach, it’s all ‘Lord Mage this,’ and ‘Lord Mage that.’”
Hofal took a puff of his tobacco. “They’re unadorned, Toren. Their entire lives, they’ve been told the reason they are condemned to this slum is because the Vritra spurned them. That they are here because they are not blessed by magic.” The older man frowned contemplatively, his eyebrows scrunching together in the way only possible when in deep thought. “You confuse them. And considering their only interactions with mages have been when the nobles peddled drugs to their loved ones, they expect the worst of you.”
I opened my mouth to speak. I don’t view them as lesser than I do simply because I wield magic. “But they’re not any different than you or I,” I said a bit stubbornly. “Maybe I can throw things with my mind, but my mind isn’t any different from theirs.”
“These people don’t know that,” Hofal said patiently. “They’re used to having everything taken from them. Chances are you’re here to take from them, too. And they have so little left to give.”
I spotted the young boy who I’d saved from the blithe addict a month or so ago. He was missing his pinky and ring fingers on his right hand from frostbite, according to Naereni. The boy spotted and gave a gap-toothed smile, waving excitedly.
I smiled back, waving lightly before he was hauled off by his friends.
The children don’t fear like the adults do, I saw.
I realized the problem, then. It wasn’t just that all of these people’s experiences hardened them against mages. I was operating under a fundantally different mindset than most of Alacrya, where might made right. In a way, my thoughts were like those of these children, where curiosity often won out over caution and common sense.
“It will just take ti, I suppose,” I said with a hint of resignation.
A man nearby retched into the canal, heaving his stomach out. I turned concerned eyes to his form, his mottled greenish-yellow patches of skin marking him as a blithe addict in withdrawal. He couldn’t keep down the stew for long.
“It will get worse before it gets better,” Hofal said, following my gaze. “But the worst of the effects have passed now. Greahd wouldn’t have been able to host this if things hadn’t started to turn for the better.”
That pulled my mood back a bit. “Thanks, Hofal,” I said, looking at the stars in the sky. I could pinpoint a few constellations now, courtesy of peeping on Lady Dawn’s reading. There was the Basilisk’s Tail. Beneath it was the Struggling Ascender, struggling endlessly to grasp the Tail. To the right, a nimbus of glimring suns lightyears away made the Lightning Spell.
I wondered what their nas were on Dicathen. How much did these cultures diverge?
“You’re going to need to be in your right mind tomorrow,” the old shield said, patting on the shoulder. “I can’t afford to let you stay down.”
I smiled slightly. Hofal was a retired ascender himself, giving him the right to sponsor for the ascender’s assessnt. Tomorrow, I’d be venturing with him to the Fiachran Ascender’s Association to finally progress. After my prelim, I’d return to Fiachra for the Bestownt Ceremony, which happened every new year. This year would be my last chance to get another rune before my adolescence barred from legally getting another.
Greahd finished handing out stew for a short mont, shifting the duty to a younger girl. The mousy-haired woman slowly hobbled over to , looking at with conflicted eyes. I felt my shoulders tense, rembering my last conversation with Trelza.
“Hello, Toren,” she said quietly, looking down at as I sat on the log.
“Hello,” I said awkwardly. Here was another person I had broken a promise to.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringent.
She watched for a mont, before taking several steps forward. I tensed for what was to co. Maybe a slap. Maybe a pointed finger in my face, admonishing for my recklessness.
I was entirely taken aback when she wrapped in an embrace, holding my head to her chest. A shudder went through at the contact, the unexpected action causing my thoughts to stutter. I felt like I had been pierced deeper than any blade.
When was the last ti I had been held?
“I’m sorry I didn’t see it,” Greahd said as my breathing picked up. “Trelza told what you said to him about the forest. And about your plans for it. I shouldn’t have let you leave that day. I’m so sorry.”
My breath caught as I hesitantly returned the hug. I wanted to say it didn’t matter, that I was past it. I had friends, a purpose, and a plan.
But that would be a lie. Toren had never felt so alone that day in the East Fiachra Healer’s Guild. He needed sobody to hold him; to let him know that the world was not yet over. He had lost his sole rock in a world of crashing waves. And instead of an understanding shoulder to lean on, Trelza presented him with the letter. He treated Toren as he did his patients, not like the apprentice he had trained for years.
And so Toren took the only action he felt he could.
That capability for despair was still there in sowhere, buried deep within. It wasn’t sothing that just went away. I felt my eyes burn with warm tears, but I closed my eyes, pushing them away.
I didn’t want to feel sad anymore. I couldn’t afford to. This world would face a proxy war between deities soon. What use was weeping about it?
I am not alone anymore, I thought, rembering Lady Dawn’s words in the Vritra Doctrination’s temple. I am not alone.
Maybe I would believe it one day, too.
Slowly, I released my grip on the mousy older woman. She looked down at my face, the lines of her brow seeming to deepen in the low light. “If you ever feel that way again, please… Please tell . I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
I forced a watery smile. ”Things are changing, Greahd. I’ve got a purpose now. You don’t need to worry.”
The woman searched for sothing in my eyes before she shuffled away. She was so kind; going out of her way to create this avenue for community in a place that had given up hope. Part of wondered how such a good woman could be in such a broken place.
“It is my job to worry,” the older woman countered, a slight upturn to the edges of her lips. “Your life is precious, Toren. Norgan would want you to live.”
I knew her words were true. My reassurances hadn’t seed to have worked, the woman nervously grasping for a way to lift my spirits.
“He would,” I replied, thinking of the grave in East Fiachra. His body wouldn’t have been buried if we were in any other Dominion. Sehz-Clar alone practiced burial for those who died in battle. The only alternatives were cremation and leaving the corpse where it passed.
Is that what would have happened to my body? I absently wondered, gazing into the distance. It would’ve simply been eaten by mana beasts. And the other Dominions would find that an honorable end, rather than have a grave marker to grieve at.
“I know sothing that might cheer you up,” the woman said, moving away for a mont. I waited curiously until the receptionist ca back a minute later with a familiar case.
Her lute.
I looked at it, rembering the last ti the woman had offered her lute to play. Greahd offered the instrunt as a mother might proffer her child to be held by another.
“No,” I heard myself say distantly. Greahd looked a bit startled, pulling the instrunt back slowly. Hofal turned confused eyes to .
I stood up, reaching into my dinsion ring with my mana. My pristine tal case appeared in my waiting hands, shimring against the stars. Greahd let walk past her as I approached the fire, where people were laughing and dancing to a tune I couldn’t recognize. Despite their tattered clothing and dirty faces, their smiles seed to reflect the nonexistent sun.
As I approached, however, the chatter and rrint began to simr away. The n parted as I drew close, my tal case heavy in my hands. Won clutched their children close, shifting closer to their husbands. All eyes turned to fear and distrust, so shuffling to leave. The only sound beca the crackling of the tall fla.
I turned as I reached the tall fire, the heat kissing my back with a tender touch. I set my case down on the ground, unlatching it slowly. When it opened, my violin was revealed to the air.
I picked it up, the textured clarwood settling neatly at my collar. I let my chin stay free, turning to look at the gathered people. Many averted their gaze or peered at the nearby streets, but they didn’t want to risk running from openly.
I let the last bit of my doubt flow through . What if I failed this? What if they rejected , or ran in fear? I didn’t know how I would take such a rejection. But the strings of my instrunt glistened in the firelight, my bow steady on the aether beast thread. For all my fears, I knew my abilities better.
I set the bow against the violin, savoring the contact. Slowly, I began to play. Soothing music flowed with the crackle of the firelight.
It was a familiar song. Anybody from Earth who heard it would know the lody, but here, it was novel. The notes flowed with practiced efficiency, echoing out into the stillness.
I closed my eyes, feeling the music. The slow rhythm contained all I felt at the mont, and I absently felt my mana respond. I opened my mouth, singing lowly to the watching stars.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
I felt my emotions flow as the rhythm took in its current. It was slow and warm and gentle. It didn’t care if I was from another world. The music simply was, following my direction and pulling where it desired all at once. The music knew my desire to be understood. It sympathized in its unique language of sound.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
For days of auld lang syne.
My emotions pressed into the air, my intent morphing on the chill winter breeze. As I yearned to show my true self to the world, my mana flared in tandem.
We have traveled ‘round the slopes,
And picked the daisies fine.
We’ve wandered many weary foot,
Since days of auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
For days of auld lang syne.
My playing slowed as I opened my eyes and the stanza of the song finished. The fire crackled behind reassuringly, outlining in its warmth. When I peered at the crowd now, their eyes didn’t shy away. They t mine with unfettered wonder, their curiosity warring with their fear. I had done sothing with my music and magic just now that I didn’t understand; that I didn’t have ti to contemplate.
The ambient mana had thrumd with intention, vibrating like the strings of my violin. For the briefest of monts, there had been no separation between mind and mana.
I couldn’t let this mont escape. It was a fleeting breath of understanding between and these people. I knew their thoughts and fears, deep as the ocean. And they knew mine.
I laid my bow on the strings once more, drawing it across in asured notes.
And when I sang again, another voice joined the chorus. Greahd, I recognized through the haze of music. Hofal joined in next, his scratchy voice terribly off-key. But they started a wave as the mood grew infectious.
I locked eyes with the mother of the boy I had saved as she sang hoarsely, her vocal cords stripped from a lifeti of pain. But to , it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard. More and more joined in slowly, calls for auld acquaintance rising into the night sky.
I spoke with a language universal across every world: music.
Reviews
All reviews (0)