Haze of Dusk (A trilogy) (3 page)

We
sit on the round table for three, eating in silence or at least trying to overlook the awkwardness. Jorsay always talks, so it’s weird for him to be quiet. Morgan constantly looks at Jorsay; her eyes lazy and sad because of his attitude. It breaks her apart when she sees how pathetic Jorsay feels. There are times Jorsay expresses his need of dying instead of having an illness. I’d instantly slap him, but he becomes enrage—he’s a reckless kid, temperamental. He’s very similar to our father.

A recurring beat on the door draws our attention. I let down my spoon and walk to the arch door of our small home. I pull the door open, in front of the door, flying with bizarre long wings is a rare-white hefty eagle with red eyes. It drops a golden scroll. I catch it before it touches the dirty ground—the bird flies high into the sky. I gape at the roll paper. My heart sinks. I’m suspicious of what it is.
Could it be… could it be it is my time?
And although it’s what I want, I suddenly feel nerve wreck.

“Morgan!” I yell out of breath. She hurries to me. The moment she identifies the scroll her skin becomes pale white. The golden color means one thing; it's from
Doomsvell. She takes it in her hands, and carefully reads it. Morgan loses her balance dropping the paper. I take her by an arm, keeping her stable.

“What happened?” I doubt she loses her head over me leaving. Somethi
ng is awfully wrong. Her petrified face speaks for her. I squat and take the scroll. I need to see it for myself. My heart races, my hands are sweaty, and I gulp down zilch.  I can feel it, I can see the upcoming. My heart squeezes tighter and tighter as I read. I slap a hand on my mouth. “This can’t be. This can’t be…this has to be wrong.” I exclaim.

“I
…I…w-what are we going to do?” Tears run down her cheeks. Her hands shake uncontrollably. I hold my pain, especially since Jorsay stays near us.

“I’m-
I’m going to talk to Srogeri. Don’t say anything in front of him…all right?” I beg. Her head trembles. She cleans her tears and heads back to Jorsay to give him a false explanation of our behavior.  I run back to the school that’s a few blocks away from the house. It is there Srogeri stays until nightfall.

The one-floor stone edifice is filthy of the many years it embraced. The property has three red arch doors that lead not to a simple room, but to an entire education ground. The three doors are numbered,
001
for the first years, from the beginning to the fifth grade. Door
002
for the second years, from the sixth to the tenth grade, and last of all, door
003
for the third years, from the eleventh, to the last grade. I hurry to the last door to the left,
003
. A quivery magic teleports me inside a large two floor room with curl stairs. I run up the stairs to the second floor. It's there the head director headquarter is, Srogeri’s headquarter. I take the doorknob and open it in a rush.

“
Sroge…” I halt. Three of the school heads sit around him. The old man is in a meeting, except, it’s not the first time I interrupt.

“Sorry to break i
n. Can we have a word,” I plead.

“I’m in a minor
gathering,”
did he just give me attitude?
I exhale, and miserably stare at him. He narrows his eyes, waiting for me to depart.
I’m not going to leave. You know I won’t…
“All right…let us speak,” he gives in. He excuses himself and walks toward me. I pass him the scroll before he reprimands for the interruption. He reads it, his round eyes enlarge. 

“Is this for real?
” I ask, sucking in the tears that want to rush down my cheeks. He grasps my arm and walks me out the room. “How is this possible. Why has he been chosen if he’s asthmatic?” My voice comes out in a crack. He puts a hand over his face. Now in a deep thought. “Is this wrong, should we plea. I mean…it makes no sense, right?” I pray he admits it must be a mistake. I’m hoping he says I’m going to request a reunion with the leaders, but his silence concerns me.

“
In the meeting, we heard Doomsvell is requesting everyone, sick or not sick. I heard, they have said that-that… if you aren’t dying or a sickness is not contagious the magician, sorcerer or healer by law has to participate if chosen.” He speaks with hesitation, and intimidation. I shake my head. An extreme tweak penetrates my stomach. “We have to do something? I can’t let my brother go to war. He will die. You know he will. He-he can’t use magic, it kills him…” the sensitivity I hold inside breaks me down.  I clean the corner of my eyes before demonstrating my hurting. “I don’t know, Judyala. They probably figured out if he has a healer maybe he won’t die, or they will use him to hand combat instead of using magic. I don’t know their reasons but, if he has been chosen…” he takes a deep breath and bows down his head.

“There is nothing you can do.
”

“
Then, I’ll run away!” I snap.

“And do what, hide? They will find you, and then they will kill you and your entire family for running aw
ay. This is the law, Judyala. You have no choice but to accept it. Your brother will have to go. He will have to join the war,” he raises his voice. I can’t believe he’s giving up on me. He always fights to protect us, is there really not an option? “Then, I’ll say the truth. I’m stronger, I can fight. If they know I have the power to heal and to use sorcery, they’ll pick me.”

“And off with my he
ad it will be. I convinced them you were incompetent within magic. Me and many alliances here will die for lying about you.” He says strictly. I sniff with both my hands on my face. I cannot bare it. My asthmatic little brother is sentenced to join the war when he turns fifteen, which is in four days.

“There must be a way.
I will do anything…anything….” I declare vociferously.

“Anything!”
A sharp female voice says. A woman appears behind us. It is Vaniele, a surrogate instructor in our district. She’s a priestess in healing, a potion maker, and some say a seer. Rumors say she attends Doomsvell war castle, and is admired and respected, yet, still she visits her pitiable home town, Duolic.

“This does not concern you, Gemma,”
he growls at her. She’s his rival. I don’t know her well because I’ve never taken any of her classes, but I heard she betrayed him years ago, and he never trusted her again. Nobody knows what made them enemies, and if my head wasn’t on my brother I would’ve investigated, but my pain and interest in how to help my brother is greater. She chuckles. Her snow-white hair is curl up to her cheeks, her large eyes bright blue. Although a woman near her sixty, she has a great face and body. She wears a white gown that is faultless—her stare wily yet mysterious. “You say you will do anything, well I have an idea.” She speaks puzzlingly. “Leave I say!” He stomps his staff.

“No! Tell me, what’s your idea?” It
disappoints Srogeri I want to hear what the woman he hates with a passion has to say. But for my brother, anything. “Take his place,” I wrinkle my face. I have lost all hope. “We already thought of that…it’s not going to happen.” I say unhappily, feeling dissatisfied by her suggestion.  By no means am I going to risk Srogeri’s life by telling my truth, he too means a lot to me.

“
I mean really…steal his face. Do you think I do not know? Dear, I know everything. You are a sorcerer, and you are capable of turning into him. Take his identity, and take his place. Become your brother.”

-2-

Converting

“Enough! Leave this department now!” he commands, his staff abruptly glows with a dark energy that picks up all the hair in my skin. The anger he feels towards her is apparent. It’s almost hate. “I’m not afraid of you,” she taunts him, as if she knows he won’t lift his staff to hurt her, but that moment I question his patience.

“All I can say is—it is time she faces her truth. You have tried and tried to avoid it for so many years, but ultimately, it will happen…and she… will find out," she
speaks in riddles. I lift my brows. “What do you mean I will find out? What are you talking about?” I say feeling awfully uncomfortable
. These are the times I wish I was telepathic.
“She has no idea what she speaks of.” Srogeri says glaring into her eyes. She chuckles. They understand each other perfectly, it’s me who’s wondering what my reality is. What is Srogeri not telling me? “I’m done here…” she tactfully glances at me and walks away vigilantly—
does she want me to follow her?
Srogeri’s blood is certainly boiling. He dislikes my presence and calmly sends me home promising to visit me before sunset tomorrow, that way we can figure out what we can do for my brother. Even though he already declared Jorsay has no option but to join the war. But now thanks to Priestess Vaniele, I have an amazing idea.

I explain to Morgan what Srogeri confirm
ed. The fact he didn’t say anything positive breaks her heart. She trusts him as much as me, as much as Papa did. To us, his thoughts are important. Morgan tears, we are sitting outside on the dry soiled, on the lifeless meadow by our small white house. It’s a meadow that didn’t survive the heat waves of the suns.  I heard stories of the fields long ago beauty. When the grass was green, and plants grew small white flakes of flowers that flow around on a windy day spinning above our eyes—petals fell on our skin as a tiny strip. The trees that now are dried branches, once bloomed changing colors every three months. If I had the opportunity to go back in time it’ll be breathtaking. The times when the perfect meadow lie, and the children ran in happiness, when fear wasn’t always known, and mothers didn’t need to worry about their children’s departure.

How I wish I have the power t
o bring the world back to peace. Even though sometimes I feel as if I’m capable of such glory if I attempt to, but instead I let Srogeri lead my life, and hide me from change, all because of my father's paranoia. Walking the streets alone was not accepted when I was younger. Leaving the house was fairly unlikely, although Morgan didn’t have the capability of stopping me.  At some point of desperation— sick of my rebellious years, Papa attempted to bring fear to me by telling me unpleasant stories, but what he didn’t understand was that his will to protect me took me further into curiosity, a search for freedom, a change of path. And the more I knew of these arclaws, the faster I sought after a hazardous encounter. I never understood why Papa treated me as if I had a price, why Jorsay wasn’t treated the same, but overlooked. Within me, I know I can find out the truth, but the answers aren’t in Duolic. That's why I need to get out of this place, but how? As any decision I make first has to be consulted by Srogeri, my guardian. Sitting there, letting the heat of the suns spill its wretchedness, I realize my miserable behavior isn’t all about losing my brother, but it’s also jealousy… I’m jealous my brother is the one chosen. That he’s going to be the one to have a different life. How unfair is that?

Morgan hugs her knees. She presses them against her chest, weeping like a small child. Her only son, handed to war… it must be terrifying. She loved Papa pretty much, since she was a little girl she always stood by his side. Now if I let it happen, she’s going to lose the one who reminds her of him, her son. Time passes, and night falls on us. It’s the quietest night I’ve felt in a long time. The birds aren’t tweeting. The whistling of the air has faded in a hidden haze conjoining with the hot waves. The depression within ourselves subdues the noises around us. “There’s a way of stopping Jorsay from going.” I say in such a low tone I’m certain I was unheard, but her flush face embarks, her puffy crying eyes meet me. I explain the plan in taking his place by stealing his face with magic, but she immediately refuses. She’s no longer sad, but angry at me. She hurries up—she laughs and cries at the same time like a foolish person.

“How could you,
how could you do this to me? Making me choose, how dare you?” She takes my will to help as an insult. I know she loves me as much as Jorsay, there’s no doubt anymore.
“Morgan, I’m not making you choose. I'm stronger…I can do it. I can win. He is weak, and he will die if he goes.”

“You a
re a woman, there is no such thing as a female sorcerer. There are only witches in this world and is the…” she stops and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t have to finish. I know she speaks of the arclaws. “How could you do this to me, forget it…you won’t go!” she made it absolute, turning away from me—heading back to the house.

“I won’t let my little brother get kill
ed. I…I want to go…I want to take his place,” I yell, but she doesn’t stop. I go after her and get in front of her. I locate my hands on her shivering shoulders. “Morgan, I’m going to do this. I’m going to join the war. There is no future for me here. All academies for sorcery and healing have rejected me. I can’t live my life hiding my powers. I can’t live life like a regular human because I’m not
one
. I can help this world. I want to use my powers. I’m sick of hiding myself. So accept it, because like it or not I made up my mind, and I’m going. Not only for Jorsay, but for me.” Morgan jerks away from me. She gapes taken aback by my decision. She knows me well. And when I want something, she knows I’m determined to get it, even if it means using my skills against the people I love.