Beneath the Weeping World

Opening chapter of "Son of the Dawnstar." Discover Yaza, the forsaken village beneath the snow and ice, and meet the villagers who dwell therein.

Where there is no sky, there is no sun. Where this is no sun, there is no light. Where there is no light, there is no hope. Thus, deep beneath a layer of frozen land, blanketed in ice, and padded with snow, a dark and forgotten place called Yaza lay. It was protected by a bitterness no man dared to challenge, and those who dwelled there had long forgotten what the light of the sun felt like and what beauty the sky held.

            The centerpiece of this tiny, remote place was a rundown, circular structure built of stone centuries ago. It was mostly collapsed, but still served its purpose as a central hub. It housed a giant, iron boiler system that burnt endlessly on gasses from below. The heat from this iron construct rose high into the darkness and the melted snow and ice found there, supplying the village with its sole source of water through old, metal pipes. The only fixture on the towering heat collector was a large clock that loomed over the village, run by the steam of the melted ice and snow as it rose through the lines. With no sun, the clock was the only method of having an understanding of time itself.

            The heat of the boiler was held below by the ice and snow, and the people revered it as their only means of survival in the cold caverns. With each passing year, the boiler tinted darker and darker shades of red as rust covered it and began to eat its way into its heart.

            The layout of Yaza was a circle emanating from the boiler, then the walls of the central structure that housed it. This was the Sanctuary of the Infinite Spirit, where the people gathered to show worship for their God and Creator. From there, a circle of huts were built of dried mud, stone, and cloth. None of the huts were roofed, but each had separate rooms for the inhabitants to sleep and maintain at least some level of privacy.

            Outside of the circle of huts was another row of huts, most of which had been completely abandoned as the population of the town dwindled for various reasons. This was the extent of the area which was lit by torches erected around the village. Everything beyond the second row of homes was black and still, and almost completely unknown to those who lived within the dome of light and heat.

            Beyond the second row, many more huts were long abandoned and dilapidated. And beyond that, a complete, black darkness covered everything, rendering most of it completely unexplored. The expanse of the forgotten caverns was unknown, and any light from the outside world was completely cut off.

            Aeron marched through the village, his hands bound behind him and his head bowed low, looking to the ground in shame. His face was covered in shades of dust and mud, which worked to conceal his vibrant blue eyes. While his clothing was little more than rags crafted from whatever cloth the village could make.

            “March,” Aidan commanded from behind him, his head held high and proud as a polar opposite of Aeron’s. Aidan was much shorter, but his dark blonde hair, dirtied profile, and bright eyes were similar to Aeron’s own.

            Aeron continued walking inward to the village, away from the darkness surrounding it, until he was within the first row. Directly before the Sanctuary of the Infinite Spirit was the town circle, where a crowd had been gathered since earlier in the day.

            Aeron looked up as he entered the circle and around the familiar faces of those who were now looking upon them. Seraphine, his younger sister, looked on. Her golden hair had never in her life been cut, and washed down her entire back. Her darker blue eyes were masked by the dirt and grime that all inhabitants of Yaza were accustomed to dealing with every waking hour.

            Beside Seraphine stood Lana. Since he was young, Aeron had always been smitten with Lana. Her dark, brown eyes contrasted his own, and her dark hair and brilliant smile hidden beneath her dark face brought a strange feeling of happiness over him. This joy he could feel even in his shame and darkest times.

            Aeron looked back down to the ground, embarrassed. He felt ashamed that Lana was seeing him in such a compromised position. He felt her eyes burning into him, even as he looked away, but could not bring himself to look up and confirm her glares.

            “I have captured this outlaw,” Aidan called to the crowd in a high voice, “He tried running and hiding beyond the light, but I have brought him back to you for punishment.”

            He shoved Aeron into the center of the circle, further shaming him before the crowd.

            “I have captured this villain on charges too numerous and mountainous and heinous to even list here before you. I sentence him to death by beheading,” Aidan bellowed, pointing to the crowd as he spoke. “Bring out the executioner,” he yelled.

            The crowd parted and a taller figure stepped from the rear, carrying with him a sword with a black, ridged handle and emitting a small red glow from between its seams. The long blade dragged the ground as the figure approached. He towered over Aidan, and a sudden hush fell over the crowd.

            “Tytus,” Aidan said to him, “This man is guilty and must be held accountable for his actions.”

            Aeron huffed, “You use such large words to compensate for your small stature.”

            Aidan snapped at him, “Silence, prisoner.” He looked back to Tytus, who had yet to speak, “You may commence with the beheading,” he said, backing away from Aeron.

            Tytus lifted the sword. The charred black handle was fitted with a silver, spiked cross guard that attached to a brilliant blade embedded with the design of a serpent that wrapped around its base.

            “On your knees,” Tytus finally spoke in a deep voice.

            Aeron complied, resting his knees on the dirty ground beneath him. He felt the cold touch of the sharp blade on the back of his neck as Tytus sized him up for the killing blow. A cold chill ran from the point where the blade touched him, down his spine, and into his legs.

            “Any last words, Aeron?” Tytus said quietly.

            Aeron thought for a moment before opening his mouth, “Next time I shall be sure to bring my child sister to fight Aidan and avoid future beheadings.”

            Tytus sighed at his remarks as he lifted the blade and swiftly dropped it inches above Aeron’s head with an echoing clank on the stone below. Aeron fell to the ground and remained motionless.

            “Tytus!” a gritty and worn voice called from the crowd. An old woman came forward, her hair long and almost white, and her posture hunched forward as a result of the decays of elderly age.

            Tytus’ eyes grew wide with fear as she neared him. She swiftly grabbed the dark sword from his hand and raised her voice more, “How many times must you be told that this is not a toy for your childish games? Your father would beat you senseless if he were here now.”

            She turned to the crowd and, like gust of wind had suddenly moved them, they all took a step away as she gave them a scolding look. “All of you,” she barked, “into the Sanctuary. Clean your filthy bodies and go home. Tomorrow you have a sermon and if even one of you is a moment late then you will be cleaning the excrement from the pit for a week.”

            The children of the crowd let out a sad sigh and walked into the Sanctuary slowly. Aidan attempted to follow, but the old woman grabbed his arm and aborted his escape.

            “Not you,” she snapped, “Aeron, get up. Tytus. Seraphine. All of you, to me right now,” she pointed her bony, wrinkly finger harshly at the ground before her feet.

            “We were only playing,” Aeron said quietly.

            She pierced him with her angry glare and spoke in a raspy voice, “You left the light of the village. You broke one of our most important rules. What if you had gotten lost? What if one of those huts had collapsed upon you?” her voice lowered and became more menacing, “Or what if you had come across the dwellers?”

            “We have gone into the darkness a hundred times, and a hundred times they have not found us,” Aeron said defiantly.

            Tytus shoved Aeron, “Do not speak to Grandmother with such defiance. She only seeks to protect you.”

            “Protection through control, Tytus,” Aeron said angrily.

            Their grandmother separated them and rage filled her voice. “How dare you speak to me like that, Aeron? Did you intend to fight them with this?” She lifted the confiscated blade and then turned sharply to Tytus. “And you,” she said menacingly, “You are the oldest of your siblings. You are to set an example and take care that they not find danger. I worry not about you or Aeron, but what of Aidan? What if he had been lost or injured?”

            Tytus lowered his head shamefully and his voice quivered. “I would not have allowed that, Grandmother.”

            “You cannot prevent him from being harmed or lost out there, Tytus. You cannot fight off the dwellers in the darkness. You may not fear them now, but I assure you that bravery will quickly disappear the moment you cross one.”

            “I am sorry, Grandmother,” Tytus said.

            She turned sharply back to Aeron, “Bravery, child, is often confused with stupidity. You protect them, as your father demanded you to do.”

            Aeron felt his skin heat as he was filled with anger and sadness. He often felt as if he would explode when overwhelmed with his darker emotions, and bottling those feelings seemed to make his skin tingle and burn. At times, he felt as if his very heart was surrounded in the flames of his anger.

            “You speak of my father being ashamed of me,” Aeron said, “and it is the swiftest way to having me defy you further.”

            His grandmother lowered her tone to a softer one. “Aeron,” she said, “your father would not be ashamed of you. He would tell you that you have a duty to him and to them. You have not failed him, and you confuse my concern for insult.”

            She stood again, raising her voice so that she could address all four of her grandchildren. “And this,” she said, raising the sword again, “This is no play thing. Do you understand? Your father and your grandfather passed this to you. You all know where it is from, and why it is imperative that it not be lost or broken. Nor should it ever be wielded lightly.” She looked to Tytus. “And I hardly think pretending to chop off your brother’s head is a serious use for such an important item.”

            She kneeled to their level again and pulled Aidan and Seraphine close to herself, “This,” she said, “This is all we have. This is what matters. You stay in the village. You stay in the light. You keep them from danger and never, ever touch this sword without righteous intention.”

            Tytus, cowering less now, raised his head to meet her eyes. “I understand, Grandmother,” he said.

            “All of you, into the Sanctuary and clean yourselves. Aeron, it is your turn to fetch our supper. Take Seraphine with you to collect it from Amity and Osias,” the elderly grandmother commanded.

            Aeron grabbed Seraphine’s small hand. “I suppose I can take care of the Princess,” he said.

            Seraphine smiled.

            “…Of Horrendous and Mysterious Odors,” Aeron finished, smirking as he did so.

            Seraphine’s smile turned to a frown. “Why are you always mean to me?” she yelled, smacking his arm.

            “I am just stating that I sometimes wonder to myself if you have been rolling in the excrement hut as some type of joke that everyone except me is in on,” Aeron cackled.

            “Aeron,” his grandmother stepped in sharply, “Seraphine is the baby of the family. So is therefore not going to be part of your teasing and dangerous adventures.”

            “She still stinks,” Aeron quipped.

            “I think perhaps you can go straight to bed without supper,” she said angrily.

            “I was feeling tired,” Aeron said, pulling Seraphine as he walked toward the Sanctuary, “so thank you for permission to catch up on sleep.”

            His grandmother latched onto his ear as he attempted to escape, pulling him to his toes, and raising her voice again. “Go wash up and get supper without another remark or else you are going to wish you had been lost and eaten by dwellers.”

            She let him go and he let out a wince. “Come on, Seraphine,” he said less defiantly.

            Seraphine followed his lead into the Sanctuary as their grandmother stood behind, shaking her head at what had transpired and pondering how much longer she could maintain her sanity. She turned around, carrying Tytus’ dark-handled blade with her.

            Inside the Sanctuary were rows of seats, split down the center with a path that led to a podium where everyone seated would be looking. The seats were made of stone, as were most things in the village. Behind the podium, rising high and out of site into the darkness above, was the boiler system that kept the people of Yaza alive. On each side of the boiler’s base were rusted pipes that caught the funneled water from above and filled metal tubs.

            Aeron pulled Seraphine to the pipes and opened the valves. The valves, piping system, boiler, torches, and tubs were the extent of any technology Yaza had, and no one seemed to know where they came from, how they got there, or who or what left them there.

            The steaming water poured from the valve and filled the tub beneath it. Tytus and Aidan were already using two of the other tubs to clean themselves. Aeron helped Seraphine climb into the hot water, but his biggest challenge, as usual, was getting the dirt out of her long, golden hair.

            “Where does the water come from?” Seraphine asked. She was well-known for asking questions, to a point of annoyance with many of the villagers.

            “Well,” Aeron said as he looked up, following the rusted pipe network with his eyes until it disappeared in the darkness above, “The heat from the furnace rises all the way to the world above and melts the ice and snow. It all falls into a big funnel and flows down here in these pipes.”

            “But, what happens when the ice and snow are gone?” she inquired.

            “It has done its job for as long as anyone remembers, Seraphine. The cold above is far too intense to stop producing ice.”

            “How did we build this?” she wondered aloud.

            Tytus poked into the conversation. “Jasper tells stories of the world up there and how man harnessed the power of steam for giant machines.”

            “So,” Seraphine pondered, “they just built this for us? Why even put us down here to begin with? Was it here before we made it down here?”

            Tytus patted her in the head, and in a soft voice said, “Amity will explain why we are here. No one really knows when or how the boiler got here. Some things we just can never have explained.”

            “Like what the sky looks like?” she added.

            “Exactly,” Tytus said, “Jasper is the oldest of us, and even he has never seen it. His father’s father’s father passed many stories of a majestic and beautiful sky that lights everything below it with a warm aura.”

            “I cannot imagine it,” she said, “It should fall. What holds it up there?”

            “A giant monster with serpents for legs who kisses the stars at night,” Aeron answered for him.

            Seraphine’s eyes widened. Tytus shoved him and tried to kill her fear. “He is kidding, Seraphine,” he said, “You will just have to see it.”

            “No,” Aeron argued, “Amity tells stories of it. And black dragons that burn villages to the ground in a single breath. And legions of demons all in one body that overflow from every orifice and spew out into the world. And a black swarm of pure evil that devours and destroys anything it touches, even children.”

            “Stop,” Tytus demanded sharply, “She is too young for that.”

            “Is she the one scared? Or is it you?” Aeron laughed.

            Seraphine’s small voice chimed in from the tub. “Me. Definitely me who is scared.”

            “Finish cleaning up,” Aeron said, changing his tone, “we have more to do.”

            “Like get food,” she said, climbing out of the tub and putting her rags back on.

            “Exactly,” Aeron said, aiding her, “So let us get moving before she gets cranky and makes us touch her gross feet or something.”

            “You should show more respect,” Tytus said sternly to his little brother, “She took us in. She seems harsh, but she wants to protect what is left of her family.”

            Aeron huffed. “I know. But…just being here in this tiny place? I can turn this water on, and before the tub is full I could walk from one end of our entire allotted world to the other. I want to see how big this hole is, and maybe some day see what is out there beyond it.”

            “Aeron,” Tytus said, touching his shoulder, “Do not fill your own head with such dreams. We have been here for centuries, and not one of us in our village’s history has ever seen what is beyond this place except those who were brought down here hundreds of years ago.”

            “Why do you keep thinking so hopelessly?” Aeron said, pushing his hand away, “You are the one with the Celestial Sword. You are the one who carries our last remnant of the world above. Yet you are completely convinced that this is our ultimate fate?”

            “I once thought we would leave,” Tytus said, “but I realized after Father died that I needed to take care of you, and Aidan, and Seraphine. That is what is important. We live on, and someday, maybe down the road, we can find our way to the light. But, I will not pretend it will be today. I will not pretend it will be tomorrow. It will be when we are strong enough to be ready.”

            “I am strong enough,” Aeron said confidently.

            Tytus pulled his hand away and shoved Aeron to the ground. “Looks like it,” he said smiling, “Go get supper.”

            Aeron angrily jumped to his feet and grabbed Seraphine by the hand, pulling her out of the Sanctuary. “You are lucky you are my brother,” he said as he left.

            The village was constantly flickering from the flames of the lamps that circled the Sanctuary. The home of Amity and her son, Osias was directly from the entrance to the Sanctuary in the inner circle.

            Aeron knocked on the door and Amity answered. She was a tall, thin, and slightly wrinkly woman with dark hair and vivid, green eyes.

            “Grandmother Sandrine sent me for food,” Aeron said to her.

            “Osias,” she said.

            A young boy behind her responded, “Yes?”

            “Bring me the meat for your friends,” she said.

            “What is it made from?” Seraphine asked.

            “It would be best for you to eat and not ask,” Amity said. She was notoriously stern when speaking and rarely made a joke or lightened her mood for anyone.

            “Where does it come from?” Seraphine continued quizzing Amity.

            “The Infinite Spirit,” Amity said, “Every morning before the sermon it is left for us by Him so that we may thrive here in this darkness.”

            “So,” Seraphine’s said, “it is just…there? Every day?”

            “Every day,” Amity answered, “It is a gift to repay us for our unwavering faith and love for our Creator. It is what prevents us from falling into the old ways.”

            “Old ways?”

            “We will discuss it in the morning sermon, Seraphine.”

            Osias brought a piece of red and grey colored meat to Aeron and handed it to him.

            “Grandmother was a tad unhappy?” Osias asked.

            “Nothing new. I reckon she is a smidge bitter about how stretchy her skin has become recently,” Aeron said, grabbing the meat and turning to leave. “See you in the morning,” he said as he walked away.

                        “Do not be late,” Amity called, “You have a terrible habit of it.”

            Aeron pretended to not hear her and walked three huts down to his own home, bringing the meat inside to his waiting grandmother.

            She forcefully pulled it from him and reminded him of his punishment. “To bed with you, Aeron,” she said authoritatively, “Seraphine, join your other brothers for supper.”

            Aeron rolled his eyes and shrugged off his fate. “Good night,” he said sarcastically as he went into the small room he shared with his siblings.

            The room had four hammocks that were stitched together from the same materials as his clothing, but doubled up for strength. He took off his clothing and laid in his hammock, staring up past where the light of the village could pierce.

            “Say your prayers,” his grandmother called to him from the other room.

            Again, Aeron rolled his eyes and yelled back, “I will.”

            He continued searching the darkness with his eyes, as he often did. He pondered what was beyond the blackness, and soon he began to fade into sleep.

            Before he could go completely unconscious, his brothers and sister entered the room and said the prayers he was instructed to say. He overheard Tytus’ request to be watched over by the Infinite Spirit.

            Aeron scoffed and closed his eyes again.

Author's Note

This is the opening chapter, long before things really truly open up. I would like some constructive criticism, if you have any to offer, regarding how I can use these early, small-scale chapters as a selling point for the rest of the story, since it's normally the early chapters that a publisher or agent want to see.