Eyes of Heaven and Earth

[blackdog1]

OOC- (This is intended to be an expansion on an older vignette. I am calling it a Solo, but am willing to take requests. PM 1st please.)




The sky grew darker and the air grew colder as Milo headed away from town and followed the river up stream. Winter had already arrived in Corone, with it came shorter days and colder, longer nights.

Milo did not mind the change of seasons, it's regularity in the face of unpredictable everyday life was a comfort to look forward to.

A scrape of a moon on the darkening horizon did little to impede the growing brightness of the stars. Milo liked the moon and what it often offered, but he held more wonder for the stars and the mysteries they contained. People dedicated their lives to understanding the stars and how they impact the lives of those that dwelled below them.

The small light of the last farm house faded as the stars took their rightful places as the rulers of the night sky, the fraction of the moon was no match for them tonight. Another earthbound light attempted to challenge them from a near by hill top.

If Milo remembered right, this was the light of a Monastery. The home of The Blind Brotherhood. He had traded with one of their order on occasion, Brother Aiden. Milo did not recall Aiden being blind in the literal sense, and knew almost nothing of their order.

Milo stopped walking to turn about and look at the entire night sky. Somewhere in among the countless stars was the constellation know as The Monk. Slowly, he turned in a small circle, trying to find The Monk among the other figures he knew so well. The Great Bear, The Warrior, The King and others that were easy to identify jumped out to be seen. He was not exactly sure where to look for The Monk, or if it was even visible this early in the night.

Milo felt his foot slip in the ice the moment he put his weight down upon it. In the quickest of instants he smashed onto the frozen ground and began to tumble down the river bank.The crunch of the lace of ice at the waters edge was too little of a warning coming too late for the soaking to come.

A shiver convulsed his body as he spat muddy water from his mouth. Milos options quickly ran through his mind as he climbed the bank. With all of his clothes and gear dripping wet, he needed to get somewhere warm and dry as soon as possible. A brisk walk to the Monastery was easier and more sure than a long hard night on the river bank.

"If I can not find The Monk in the heavens," he said to the night, "then I will find him on the land."

[blackdog1]

As Milo began the slow, cold walk up to the monastery, doubts and questions flooded his mind.

Why, after decades of surviving alone in the forest of Concordia was he so quick to give up on his independent lifestyle and skills to be rescued by strangers?

Sure, his clothes and gear were soaking wet, but it was not the first time and certainly would not be the last. He wasn't even that cold...yet.

He began to wonder if the cold had already gotten to him, stripping him of his powers of reason and clear thought. Only minutes into his trek to the monastery, he, a man who had managed to always shelter and feed himself no matter how harsh the conditions, was about to take the charity of others.

Why did he have to chose a religious house? He was not a man of the Gods or Faith. The only thing he really had any faith in was himself and his ability to survive.

He did not even like other people. Most of his interaction with others revolved around work or trade. Milo was careful who he got involved with, not normally inviting people into his world or affairs.

Milo's clothes were beginning to stiffen in the freezing night air as he crested the hill and intersected the road. The road was no more that two shallow ruts that eventually ran into the gate of a high wooden fence. The light that acted as his guide casting bars of shadow from the slats.

The light-weight gate swung smoothly open with a gentle push, it was not locked, merely closed.

Small dark sheds and out-building clung to the palisade fence at irregular intervals, gradually disappearing from Milos view with the distance and darkness. All was quite about the grounds, but not the main building. The sounds of muffled activity drew him closer to the lighted front door.

The lamp that had kept his attention all the way from the river bank was no ordinary farm lamp. It was much larger than normal and far brighter. As he drew closer he noticed the amount of reflective material that made up the body and frame of the lamp. A single flame refracted and magnified by a piece of art that functioned as a shining beacon.

Hidden in the shadow of the entry way was the low slung front of the monastery with a larger multi-storied structure looming behind it. It did not look much like a religious center to Milo, but he did not have too much experience with religion. The sparkle and reflection of the lamp conspired to mask most of the details from Milo's eyes.

Closer now, the sounds from the building struck a familiar cord,- a tavern? It didn't seem right, but it did seem true.

Briskly mounting the two stone steps and raising his fist, Milo rapped heavily on the weathered oak door.

Milo did not have to wait long for an answer, although not exactly what he expected.
The door swung open to reveal a jovial man with ruddy cheeks and an unruly beard, dressed simply in well-worn gray monks robes. Laughter, loud boasts and bar challenges flooded around the monks shoulders.

"Well there you are," exclaimed the monk, gesturing at Milo with a beer stein,"you've missed dinner, come in, come in."

Milo, getting colder by the minute and utterly confused by the reception he had just received, blinked dumbly and entered the door that was open before him.

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Quick introductions were made in the foyer before moving further into the common area. Milo explained his situation in the simplest terms, leaving out the part about him losing his footing while being pre-occupied with the stars. Brother John, the large happy man who answered the door. acted as if people fell into the river and showed up on the door step every night. He talked to Milo as if he had known him for years.

Rounding the corner into the common room, Milo was reminded of how much it resembled a small town tavern. About 20 men were scattered about in small groups, amusing themselves with games, stories and drink. Some turned to see who had entered, others avoided looking at him altogether. He even thought he saw the faces of small victories and defeats as items and money changed hands. Were they betting on he and brother John in some way?

So far it it had a strange reception for Milo at the monastery. He did not feel threatened in any way, but he casually checked the axes on his belt for the little bit of reassurance they offered. It was possible, Milo thought, that their insular life made them always act this way. He was sure that city folks thought him and his ways strange as well.

Brother John tried to relay small pieces of disjointed information to Milo as he lead the way through the room to an open bench near the roaring fire.

"Should be able to find a spot of dinner for you in the kitchen," john rambled as he pointed out hooks for Milo to hang his wet things,"Brother Dan will also want to know that you have arrived and everything is O.K.."

Milo was once again beginning to get confused with the monk. He turned from hanging his dripping cloak on a hook beside the fireplace.

"What are you talking about?," Milo asked, "Who is brother Dan and why does he care about me falling in the river?"

Brother John stood still and silent for a few heart beats with a look of shock showing on his bearded face. A slight grin slowly overtook his mouth and he replied to Milo in a slower and more measured tone.

"My apologies Milo," he began as he took a seat on the bench,"I sometimes get ahead of myself and drag others along with me. I realize now that the way I said some things may have sounded strange to you, but from my point of view they are not."

"Brother Dan may help to explain it better when he arrives. But for now let me just tell you that we were expecting someone to show up on our door step tonight, we just did not know who it would be."

A question was about to leave Milos mouth when he was startled by a small noise and movement behind him. Turning, he found a steaming bowl and a cool mug along with the back of a retreating monk. The question was forgotten as quickly as it formed.

John motioned for Milo to go ahead and enjoy his meal as he continued his explanation.

"To be honest Milo," John continued softly, "Most of us don't really understand what brother Dan reads in the stars, it takes more time than most of us have. But I also know that he is usually right when he says something will happen, no matter how large or small the matter. His charts, lines and drawing help predict the movements of people as well as the stars."

Milo slowly chewed a chunk of meat and considered all of the small bits of information that the monk had passed to him since his arrival. All of his life he had wondered what the stars above were and excepted them as mostly decorations of the night sky. If what he was hearing so far was correct, then he had been wrong. The stars were more than just lights in the sky and the strange events of the evening were not just some accident.

For the first time tonight Milo understood the strangeness and was willing to learn more about it. The stars controlling our lives? It could be interesting or it could be an load of horse shit, but what was the harm in finding out. Besides, the food and drink were better than some tavern fare he had paid good money for in the past.

Brother John had left soon after Milo began his meal and returned just before his mug was empty. John come back to the table with more drink and a second older monk wearing a long sheep skin coat against the cold of the night. Milo assumed that it was brother Dan the star reader coming in from observing the night sky.

Initially, Milo focused more on the coat than the man. A winter traveler could get used to a coat like that. His focus would shift soon enough.

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Brother Dan stripped off his heavy overcoat while he introduced himself. He left off the 'brother' and referred to himself simply as Dan. Milo was relieved by the the exclusion, with this many people around the would get really tired of saying 'brother' really fast.

Dan was thinner and carried more wrinkles around his eyes than most of the men in the room. He was obviously past his physical prime, but his eyes still held the spark of interest and intellect. The slight smile that touched the corners of his mouth gave the impression that he had something to share and a willingness to do so.

"Sorry about making you wait," Dan began in truly sincere tone,"I had to find someone to snuff out that blasted beacon so that I could take my early evening observations. I trust the beacon helped you to find us?"

Milo still did not understand why he had been waiting for this man, but hoped it would be revealed soon.

"No apologies necessary," Milo replied as he raised a newly refilled mug,"I've enjoyed a good meal while I waited. And yes, the beacon is nearly as bright as the stars themselves."

"Oh no,"Dan said seriously,"It is not nearly as bright as the actual stars. The stars are many hundreds of times brighter." He continued to go on about the various brightnesses of the stars and their actual distances from where they sat. Most of this was of little interest to Milo, but he smiled and nodded politely at most of the appropriate places.

Dan went on like he felt the need to inform Milo what he did with all of his time. Unfortunately, many of the words and phrases he was using were foreign to Milo who knew absolutely nothing about tangental vectors and rotational axis.

Mercifully, another man ambled over toward Milo and interrupted Dan before he had to explain what astrology and horoscopes were.

Milo, happy for the intrusion and fueled by the drink, stood and greeted brother Aiden who he had met a few seasons age.

The last time Milo had visited this area of the forest, he had run into Aiden and traded a bit with him. Ten of Milos hand crafted arrows for a sack of food that he would have otherwise purchased.

"I hope the arrows I gave you flew true," Milo said to help Aiden place where he knew him from.

"And I hope that sack of food and wine made you fat and lazy," Aiden shot back as a laughing reply.

As the drink continued to flow, Dan and his serious business were forgotten and the men began to exchange tales of what they had been doing. Milo relayed news of what was going on in the wider world and where he had been traveling. The brothers told of what they actually did here at the monastery.

Milo was surprised to learn that most of the men here had the freedom to do as they wished, practicing whatever craft they excelled at. Together they could make or grow just about anything that they needed or trade their goods for what they did not have.

Most of the men here appeared to content if not happy with their lives, although they were all also well into an evening of drinking. Milo got the impression that this was more of a regular occurrence than a special occasion.

As the night drew on many of the men retired to their cells, except Dan, who went back to make more observations of the night sky. Milo may not have understood most of what Dan spoke about, but he was intrigued by it. He would still like to know why he was expected to be here.

When the beer was finally put away for the evening, Milo was shown to room for the night. Pleasantly drunk, he piled himself and his mostly dry gear into the small monks cell and soon drifted off into alcohol induced sleep.

[blackdog1]

The searing pain in Milo's head as he awoke helped push the memory of the previous night to the front of his thoughts. Cradling his head as he lay as still as possible, he swore to himself to never spend another night drinking with Monks who brewed their own strange brands of drink.

With the specter of the mother of all hangovers awaiting him, Milo took a few slow moments to prepare himself for the misery that would envelope his morning. Taking stock of his condition, he was glad that his stomach was calm. Vomiting in the morning while sober was horribly unpleasant. Thankfully, his hands did not tremble as he lowered them to his sides.

White light and more pain were the result of finally opening his eyes. His vision was consumed with bright and blinding white light that slowly subsided with heavy blinking and regularly holding his eyes closed. After a few moments both the pain and the intensity of the light began to dissipate into a throbbing haze of gray. Milo could not see anything.

As he sat up on the cot, Milo tried to swallow down the growing panic of losing his sight. Casting his useless gaze about the room, he was disappointed in being unable to make out any differences of light or dark, sun or shadow. He may not have had his sight, but he did have hope that things would get better. He already knew that it could not be much worse.

Milo swung his feet over the edge of the cot and slowly lowered himself to his hands and knees. A quick circuit of the room confirmed that he was still in the simple monks cell that contained little more than a cot, a chair and his personal gear.

Holding his bow by the end rather than the grip, Milo felt ready to venture beyond his cell. The stone walls of the hallway did not allow for sounds to carry from the outside and made the scraping and tapping of the bow on the floor seem all the louder.

His anxiety grew with each shuffling step as small questions floated into his head. How far had he gone? Was he going in the right direction? The little questions soon gave way to larger ones. Was there anyone here that could help him? What would his life become as a blind man?

Attempting to rely on his ears instead of his eyes was little help. Most of the sounds that he heard were ones that he was making, the remainder were either too foreign or too distant to help him in any way and only added to his confusion.

To help keep himself from going too far into the realms of questions and doubts, Milo search his memory for blind people he had known or seen in his travels and tried to remember how they had lived their lives. This course of distraction led him to a less than promising conclusion. All of the people he remembered had one thing in common; a lack of true freedom and independence. They were all tethered to something, whether it was a person, group or a place, they were restricted in some manner or another.

After what seemed like long distance to walk there finally came the familiar sounds of conversation. The men were still a good distance away and Milo was unable to make out the details of what was being said, but the simple rhythm of speech kindled the spark of hope. At about the same time, he noticed a change in the way the sounds around him echoed. For better or worse, he had just entered a much larger space.

Milo stopped, unsure of what was ahead of him, he was afraid to move any farther. As doubt began to fill his thoughts and freeze his actions, a familiar voice called to him from the near distance.

"There you are Milo," the Monk calmly said, " you saved me the trouble of coming to fetch you."

Milo knew the voice quite well, he had made the acquaintance of Brother Aiden years ago and renewed that friendship last night.

"I'm blind Aiden," Milo stated flatly. It was much easier to say than he thought it would be.

"Let us go down stairs and join the others for a bite to eat," Aiden carried on as if Milo had not spoken at all. He gently took Milos arm with hands led him down the stairs.

Milo began to wonder if Aiden had lost his hearing as he had lost his sight, but quickly abandoned the idea as ridiculous. He just as quickly returned his focus to the task at hand, stairs were far more difficult to navigate without your sight.

The sounds and smells of the common eating room came at Milo like a wave when Aiden pushed the door open. No one seemed to pause their activity or conversation when they entered, as if leading blind people about was a normal occurrence here. Strange the number of less than normal activities within these walls that passed as regular occurrences.

Taking an offered seat at the large table that Milo knew was before him, he immediately smelled the vile brand of spirits that these monks brewed. As if by instinct, Milo reached his hand out and clasped the cool tin cup and brought it to his lips.

With the drink in his guts and still burning his throat, he could already feel its effects. The pain in his head began to lessen and if he was not mistaken there was a subtle change in his eyes.

The conversation in the room quickly quieted, then completely stopped. One voice then spoke and Milo knew that he was the person being addressed without his name ever being spoken.

"Welcome to the Brotherhood," rang crisp and clear to Milos ears.

At first Milo was slightly confused, but the pieces of the brotherhood puzzle quickly began to fall into place for him. This was a brotherhood of prisoners. Prisoners of their own making.