Rise of the Red Harbinger (28 page)

Before Marshall could react, Badalao was before him with his hand on Marshall’s head. In a split second, Marshall felt a small tug in his mind, like someone popping a cork from a bottle. The tug continued for a moment and suddenly Marshall felt like his mind had expanded. As if it had opened up and was larger than he’d previously known. Badalao released his hand and smiled. “There. It is done.”

“What have you done to my mind?”

“I created a connection to my own. It means that I can enter your mind, read your thoughts, and see things through your eyes. Trust me, it is a useful tool. It is what makes Desmond and me such a lethal duo.”

“Lethal. Sure. And now I will have you in my head whenever you want? That seems hardly fair.”

“You do not yet understand the nature of manifestations, which is expected. Using such power takes energy, just as sparring, fighting, or any physical exertion. Instead, you are exercising your brain. Furthermore, my manifestation only works in the daylight.”

“Oh, wonderful. So you can only invade my mind during the daytime. I find that much more comforting.”

Badalao playfully punched Marshall’s shoulder and exhaled a laugh through his nose. “Mouse is right. You are a fool. Think of how great of an advantage this would be in battle.” Badalao shook his head in frustration. “Forget it, we can argue about this another time. Let us go, I would rather not spend all day here. It stinks. You all know your responsibilities? Maven Savaiyon? Mouse?”

Savaiyon nodded. Adria spoke up, “I will look for the shadow while Gunnar and I search for survivors. I have a hunch about where it is anyway. If you need to find us, we will finish where we found Marshall the last time.” Savaiyon stepped through a gateway. Adria and Gunnar walked into the village down the main path.

Desmond walked on, not waiting for Badalao or Marshall to follow. “Show us ta where yer family would be.”

Marshall turned and walked in stride with his two companions. Badalao broke the silence as they walked. “So you really know nothing of manifestations? Surely you have one if you bear the Descendant’s Mark.”

Marshall sighed in frustration. At some point he knew he would have to address the manifestation topic. In truth, his biggest fear was that he would be wrong. If his companions were right, it would shake the foundations of the whole Taurani way of life. “It is true. I know nothing of manifestations. I never have. No Taurani has ever mentioned the notion to me. I have no magical power. I have never seen any of my people practice magic either. We have always believed that that privilege died with the Harbingers.”

Badalao shook his head in disagreement. “Like I said, I cannot accept that. You bear the Mark. The only reason you, or anyone, would have it on their face is if they’d developed a manifestation. I can believe that you do not know what it is. But I refuse to believe that you do not have one.”

“And how would I know?” Marshall actually appreciated the conversation. It was the lesser of evils compared to acknowledging all the destruction around him.

Desmond cut in, “When ya were younger, say between six an’ eight or so, ya woulda felt it through yer body. Manifestations appear fer the first time when those o’ us who have great faith in the Orijin are in a desperate situation an’ genuinely ask Him fer a solution. We recognize somethin’ is happenin’ because we feel the harmony coursin’ through our veins. It’s like there’s a melody in yer blood an’ ya feel more powerful than ya ever have before. That sound familiar?”

Marshall furrowed his brow. He’d experienced that very thing, but he found difficulty placing exactly when it happened. “I do remember something like that. Vaguely when I was so young but definitely more recently. I…I think that happened the day we were attacked. Aric and I were confronted by their general and we had no way out. I remember closing my eyes and focusing so hard. Praying to the Orijin…and then…the world went…black.”

Desmond blinked and then stared at him. “That. Was?” He pointed at Marshall.

“What do you mean?” Marshall felt uneasy at the way Desmond and Badalao stared at him.

Badalao answered, “If that was you who did that, you put the whole world in darkness for a quarter of an hour. There was confusion everywhere. Some thought it was a Descendant, others Jahmash, and others the Orijin himself.”

“The whole world?” Marshall searched for reasons for the explanation to be irrational. For it not to make sense. But it pieced together too well for his liking. “Light of Orijin, if this is true, then…then what do I do now? I cannot be here! I am a traitor to my whole people!”

Badalao brought Marshall back to reality with a squeeze of Marshall’s tender right shoulder. Marshall jumped at the pain, but Badalao didn’t notice. He kept his hand on Marshall’s shoulder as he spoke. “You are no traitor. This is what I meant before. How is it your fault? You prayed to the Orijin and he blessed you with a miraculous ability. How much more of a sign do you need? And look around fool. Where are your people? You are one of us now. Of course you tried to fight us, but we forgive you.” Desmond huffed at the last part of Badalao’s words, though Badalao was smiling. “We’ll get payback for that anyway.”

I cannot wait to see Gunnar again. He has such an incredible body.
Marshall shook his head.
Did I just think that? Where did that come from?
Marshall looked around, his cheeks burning. Beside him, Badalao and Desmond guffawed loudly. Badalao finally composed himself to speak again, “See what I mean? Do not think about attacking us again. You do not want to mess with someone who can see into your mind.”

Marshall pressed his lips together tightly, but could not stifle the laugh. He was more relieved than angry, knowing that the thought hadn’t been his own.

The levity only briefly distracted him. Marshall’s conundrum was more complicated than the others made it seem. They kept telling him everything that was happening was moot because his people were dead.
That is like saying you can abandon everything you believe in once your family dies.
They had finally reached what was left of his home. He would deal with his manifestation issue another time. “There,” Marshall pointed to a pile of burnt rubble. “My family is in there.” A lump formed in his throat as he said the words. “How…how do we get them out?”

Desmond stood next to him. “I’ll handle it.” Desmond clenched his jaw and stared at the blackened pile that used to be Marshall’s home. Marshall watched as broken pieces of wood hovered and moved away from the pile. He stepped closer as the pile eventually shrunk, searching for any signs of his family. Badalao did the same from the opposite side of the pile. As Desmond cleared the debris, Marshall found the bodies of his two sisters and dragged them to the grass.
Esha. Gia. Oh Orijin. Why?
As he set them down, he noticed Badalao dragging a larger body out from the debris. Father. All three bodies were blackened. Marshall choked on a combination of ash and sorrow.

“Only my mother’s body remains in there, Desmond.”

He watched as Desmond cleared the rest of the pile slowly. Pieces of the destroyed and charred house were moved carefully so that Marshall could inspect everything to find his mother’s body. After a few minutes, nothing remained where the house had fallen. Panic dotted Marshall’s mind. “Where is she? We must have missed her. Her body must still be in the pile. We have to search again!” Badalao had dragged Marshall’s father’s body next to the two girls.

Desmond walked to him and stared at the ground. “She’s not in there, Marshall. I searched everythin’ as I was movin’ it. If I had seen her body, I woulda said so.”

Badalao cut in, “Maybe this is a good sign, Marshall. What if she managed to escape? That would be the only explanation for her not being here, right? She likely survived and escaped.”

Marshall shook his head vigorously, hoping it would clear his thoughts. “I…I hope so. Where is Adria? She would be able to tell me for sure, would she not? If my mother was still alive?”

Desmond nodded, “Yeah, she could tell ya. If yer mum’s alive an’ nearby, Mouse would know.”

“Then let us get her. Once we know for sure, we can come back here and bury my family.” They walked on in silence for another few minutes until they saw Adria and Gunnar standing at a clearing. “There. That is where I fell fighting Maqdhuum.”

Badalao asked, “Maqdhuum?”

“The leader of the army that attacked us. He said his name was Adl Maqdhuum. It means ‘master of justice’ in Imanol, the Old Tongue. Three of us fought him. I saw him cut down Myron. I would assume the same thing happened to Aric after Maqdhuum defeated me.”

They were several yards away when they saw Adria and Gunnar searching the ground. Adria yelled to Marshall. “This is where you fought, is it not?”

Marshall looked around at the area and ran to where she and Gunnar stood. Marshall studied the area, analyzing and trying to remember his fight with Maqdhuum. “You are right; this is where I fell.” He walked around the area, thinking. “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing. We searched what we could, but we’re looking for a shadow, not a person. I have no clue how you would find it.”

“Summon your manifestation! Maybe you can control it with that.” Badalao yelled from behind. “It is probably something you control with your manifestation, considering you can bring the darkness and all.” Adria and Gunnar looked at Marshall incredulously.

“And how do I do that?” Marshall couldn’t believe he was entertaining the suggestion, but it bothered him that he had no shadow. He felt incomplete.

Badalao continued, “Clear your mind and focus. Drive all thought and emotion away. You will know the feeling. You have felt it before. Your blood and veins will sing with a melody that you will not want to go away.”

Marshall followed Badalao’s instructions. Sure enough, once he managed to empty his mind, the harmonious feeling flooded his body. He felt more than just human, like he could fight a whole army.

He looked around and waited. “Now what?”

Badalao responded, “Reach out to it with your mind. See if you can somehow connect to it.”

Marshall closed his eyes and focused. He thought only about his shadow and about the darkness. He maintained his focus for several moments until he heard Adria gasp. Marshall opened his eyes and saw a black figure on the ground; it looked like it was walking toward him. Marshall stood still and waited another moment until the shadow was at his feet. Once there, the shadow no longer moved. Marshall took a step. Then another. The shadow was part of him once more. Marshall felt some of the tightness in his shoulders release. He let the manifestation go and the melody stopped. “Wow.” He blinked his eyes a few times and took a deep breath. “That was…something.”

He turned back toward Badalao and Desmond and noticed that Savaiyon had rejoined the group. Badalao smiled and said, “See. We told you it was not so horrible to be one of us.” Badalao shifted his gaze to Adria. “Mouse. We could not find Marshall’s mother with the rest of his family. Think you could locate her?”

“If she is nearby, there is a chance. We are in the middle of an enormous forest, so if she is outside of the village, it will be difficult. Too many animals.” Adria focused her eyes on the ground and concentrated. Marshall wondered if the feeling was exactly the same for everyone. Summoning the manifestation would make his decision much more complicated. After a few moments, Adria spoke, “I am sorry Marshall. I do not hear any heartbeats in the village. If, by the slim chance you are correct about survivors, they are not here. It would have been wise for them to escape into the forest anyway.”

Marshall gritted his teeth. “We have to find her. She is alive and we must rescue her.” Marshall studied the area, thinking of a strategy of where his mother might have gone. Only then did he notice Myron’s lifeless body several yards away. He looked around again. “Wait. Where is Aric’s body?”

Savaiyon responded, “What do you mean?”

“Three of us fought Maqdhuum here. Myron and I both fell. There is no way Aric would have defeated him alone. Aric’s body should be here.”

Badalao offered encouragement, “Perhaps he escaped as well, like your mother. They could be in the forest somewhere. It has been nearly a week since you were found. Perhaps in that time, any survivors may have gotten far away.”

“There is no way Aric…” Marshall’s words were cut off by a blood-chilling scream behind him. He turned and saw Gunnar on his knees, clutching his elbow. His arm below that point had been sliced cleanly off and it lay on the ground. A familiar man stood beside him with an ear splitting grin on his face. “Adl Maqdh....” Before Marshall had even finished saying the name, Maqdhuum had Gunnar and Adria clutched with each hand and all three disappeared into nothingness. Marshall blinked, unable to process what he’d just seen.

A bright yellow gateway appeared just before his feet. Savaiyon yelled, “Go! Now!” Marshall had barely moved before Desmond pushed him through the gateway.

Chapter 11

Burning Thoughts

From
The Book of Orijin
,
Verse Three Hundred Forty

Our grace is manifested in those of you who are innocent and shine a beacon of faith in your darkest hour. Even you shall falter at certain junctures, but you have been given your manifestations for a reason.

“It happened shortly
after I reached six years. I think I was about six.” Horatio looked up at the top of the wagon quizzically. “Was it six? Maybe seven. No wait, definitely six. Ah, I don’t remember now. Anyway, I just remember that I was being beaten by a horde of older kids. My family didn’t have much and we were ridiculed quite often.” A heavy gust of wind slapped against the wagon cover.

“Where did you come from again?” So far, Baltaszar was able to maintain control of Horatio’s tendency to ramble. He decided that this journey would be infinitely more tolerable if he guided the conversation, rather than letting the other boy say whatever came to mind. They’d only left Vandenar a few hours ago and the duration of it had been spent in conversation. Earlier in the morning, Cyrus thought up a plan to send a merchant named Varan Ika with a wagon down to Khiry. Baltaszar and Horatio were to stay in the back and, if the merchant was questioned, they would hide behind the goods and wares, beneath blankets.

It was the best option, considering they were originally planning to ride in plain sight. Cyrus and Anahi were both certain that royal soldiers would be on the road, and would attack them on sight. Merchants regularly traveled the Way of Sunsets, so they hoped to simply blend in.

All of this meant that Baltaszar was stuck in the back of a wagon with Horatio, with nothing to do but talk. Horatio continued, “Down south, there is a group of islands called the Wolf’s Paw. I come from Damaszur, a town on the main island. Most of us there live off of fishing for most of our trade and sustenance. The thing is, my father left us when I was fairly young, around the time when I started remembering anything. So my mother had to play the role of two people to keep us going. My brother and I were teased daily by just about everyone our age. We heard just about every insult, from being called bastards to japes about our mother…all kinds of horrible things.”

Baltaszar cut in, “Wait,” something sounded a bit off, and Baltaszar had always had a sharp memory for picking up on minute details. “Back in Vandenar, when you came into my room…you mentioned that your father was always getting on your case for talking too much. Or something like that. But you just said he was already gone by the time you could remember anything. That doesn’t make sense.”

Horatio wrinkled his brow. “I said that? Really? Maybe I meant my mother then. I don’t always have the best memory when it comes to things that happened a long time ago. I don’t know why I would have said that.” Genuine concern and confusion riddled Horatio’s face at the realization.

“It’s not a big deal Horatio. I was only confused. Continue your story…you said you were constantly harassed by others.”

“Yeah. I usually tried to avoid confrontations, but my brother Leonard had the bigger mouth of the two of us, so you could say we were getting into scraps regularly. One day it was worse than usual. Nearly a dozen kids chased me and my brother to the docks at the edge of our town. They had us cornered so we tried fighting, but they mauled my brother and then pushed him into the water. I jumped in and managed to keep him afloat. But they all followed and surrounded me. I was only six. Or seven. Whatever. I knew that was it though, I was certain I would die there. All I could think to do was pray to the Orijin to help me get out of it somehow. After that my mind cleared and I closed my eyes, clinging to Leonard’s limp body while treading water. I didn’t think about anything. I really don’t know how I knew, but it just felt natural.”

Baltaszar was deeply interested now. “What did? What felt natural?”

Horatio looked at him after having stared at the roof the entire time. “I felt a connection to the lightning. Like I could summon it. And that’s exactly what I did. I don’t know how it happened. I just wanted it and it reacted to my will. I summoned the lightning with my mind and bolts struck every single one of those boys who were chasing me. Some of them died. The rest of the boys were rescued and remained bed-ridden for weeks. I swam back to the docks and carried my brother all the way home. The first thing I did even before tending to my brother was looked at my reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, there was a black line down my left eye.”

The winds continued on, pressing the wagon cover against Baltaszar’s body. “Did you feel guilty about it? Did you get into any trouble?”

Horatio pursed his lips. “I did feel guilty for a while, but my brother, once he got better, convinced me that we both would have died if I hadn’t done what I’d done. And after that day, we were never bothered by anyone again. Enough people, enough
honest
people, were at the docks that day to vouch for the fact that I’d acted in self-defense. And down in the Wolf’s Paw, it isn’t a crime to be a Descendant.” Horatio smiled while saying that last part. “And what about you? When did you get yours?”

“Well that’s the strange thing. I don’t remember getting it. According to my father, I got it before six or seven. If I got it when he said I did, then I don’t think I would have been old enough to remember.”

“That’s not even possible.”

“That’s the story that I was told. And besides, for as long as I can remember, I’ve had the line on my face. Of course, up until a few days ago, I thought it was a scar.”

Horatio chuckled at that. “Seriously? You thought
that
was a scar? I’ve believed in some stupid things in my life, but nothing as crazy as that!”

“Yeah, trust me, I’m embarrassed to even tell you that. But seriously though, I never had one of those experiences or epiphanies like you did. Nothing like that ever happened in my life.”

Horatio’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t believe that either. But fine. Assuming, just for the sake of humoring you, that that’s true…what is it you can do? What’s your manifestation?”

Baltaszar sighed, “You’re going to think I’m even more stupid now.” He looked Horatio in the eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what my manifestation is.” Baltaszar felt his face grow warm with embarrassment.

“Bunkum.” Horatio shook his head.

“Bunkum?”

“Nonsense. How could you not know? You’re telling me that you have never been associated with anything miraculous or magical in your life? There’s nothing out of the ordinary that you’ve ever felt yourself doing or creating?”

“The Blind Man asked me the same thing. I’ve never done anything out of the ordinary. I wish someone could just tell me what my manifestation is, so I could just get on with it.”

Horatio leaned forward from the opposite bench as the wind howled outside. “Well then it wouldn’t work, fish-brain. You are supposed to develop it yourself. They have tested those types of things in the past. I read about it. When Descendants first started appearing and people realized the patterns and methods of it, they tried fabricating situations to influence manifestations. But none of it ever worked. I supposed that’s how you know it’s really a blessing from the Orijin.”

“So then, how in the name of Orijin am I supposed to know what I can do? My life to this point has been a repetition of hardships and disasters. I’m not one to feel sorry for myself, but I’m being honest, Horatio. There has truly been nothing miraculous about my life.”

“You had me fooled on that one, Baltaszar. You don’t seem the type to feel bad for yourself. Just based on our conversations in the past day, I’ve noticed that you tend to focus on the good in everything.”

Baltaszar shrugged. “I suppose that’s true. But I always feel so…disengaged from things. Distanced from certain realities.”

Horatio squinted his eyes. “Explain.”

“I don’t know. I suppose what I’m saying is that I don’t let things affect me. My father was publicly hanged and burned only a few days ago. Just over two months ago, Yasaman, the girl whom I’d hoped to marry made it clear that we had no future together. Then yesterday, a Blind Man gave me an incredibly morbid and disturbing prophecy. And on top of all that, right after my father’s death, the same stranger who revealed to me the truth of the line on my face, informed me that my mother did not die in the fire that burnt down my house as a little boy, despite what my father told me. Yet I sit here in the wake of all this and the only emotions I feel are confusion and helplessness. That’s what I mean by disengaged.” Baltaszar suddenly realized his fists had been clenched so hard that his fingernails had broken the skin of his palm.

“We all handle things differently. What you’ve been through…it’s a great deal for any one person to handle.” Horatio’s eyes shot up. “You said there has never been anything miraculous in your life. So instead, focus on the opposite. Look at all of the horrible things that have happened. Are there any connections between all of them?”

Baltaszar looked at Horatio confusedly for a moment then closed his eyes to think. “The only thing I can think of is all of the fires that happened in Haedon throughout my life. But those were tied to my father, not me.”

Horatio bit his lip and stared at Baltaszar for several moments, then looked down.

“You don’t think? I can…create fire? Oh light of Orijin, I…I can create fire.” A wave of nervousness flowed over his skin, causing goose bumps to form on his entire body and every hair to stand. “I should have known this already. I’m so stupid. I killed a bloody snake with it only two days ago.” Baltaszar rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me fire. We’ll stop the wagon and get out. I want you to show me.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh I believe you. I just want to see it.” Horatio smiled widely, “Besides, if we end up getting caught by royal soldiers, you’ll need to know how to use it.” He peeked through the opening at the front and asked the merchant to stop the wagon.

Baltaszar got out and stood at the side of the dirt road as Horatio studied his movements and expressions closely. The intense inspection made Baltaszar uneasy, causing him to pull his hood back on his head. “Well…what should I do? Is there a trick to this? All of the other times that the fire happened, I had no idea anything different was going on.”

Horatio nodded as if coming to some conclusion. “That’s likely the problem. If you don’t know that you’re doing it, it means that you’re doing something wrong. The trick is actually to clear your mind of all thought and emotion. That’s the only way to truly control it. You have to focus only on the manifestation and nothing else.”

“That sounds much harder than you’re making it seem.”

“Oh it is. Don’t feel bad, I haven’t gotten a complete grasp of mine yet either. I suppose that’s why we all go to the House of Darian, right?”

Another strong gust of wind blew Baltaszar’s hood back off. There were no trees in sight to slow the wind down. Baltaszar was glad he’d been able to shave while at Cyrus’ inn, otherwise the wind would have made his beard extremely annoying. “What does it feel like? When you’re using it I mean. Will I feel any different?”

“Rapturous. Like no emotion or feeling you’ve ever felt before. The only thing I can compare it to is…like music is flowing through your veins and warming your whole body. And once it goes away, you can’t wait for it to come back. Have you ever been with a woman? I mean, intimately?”

Baltaszar answered tentatively. Yasaman was the only one he’d ever been with. “Yes,” he said curtly.

Horatio responded, “Oh, well I haven’t. But it’s supposedly even better than that.”

Baltaszar thought for a moment. “That sounds…dangerous. If it’s so addictive, why don’t people just use their manifestations all the time? That is, assuming they don’t manipulate dangerous things like fire or lightning?”

“There are those who have died as a result of constantly needing that power. And it has certainly driven others mad. Manifestations are not an unlimited power. They tap into our body’s energy. Just as how running or sparring or any other physical activity makes us tired, using our manifestations has the same effect. And because you have to concentrate and focus, they tire our minds as well. You will find that many people with manifestations eat a great deal just to replenish the energy they’ve lost. Stop stalling Baltaszar. Are you going to do this or what?”

“Fine, fine. Stop talking then so I can focus.” Baltaszar closed his eyes and focused only on the thought of fire. He took a deep breath and stared into the blackness of his mind, then held up his right hand and opened it, palm up. Baltaszar concentrated, wondering in a deep dark corner of his mind how hard he was supposed to strain to make something happen. He focused more specifically on creating a flame in the palm of his hand. A strange warmth crept from his head and moved slowly down his entire body. Horatio had described it entirely accurately. It felt like his veins were singing a glorious melody, filling the rest of his body with ecstasy.

Horatio yelled out, “You did it!”

Heat permeated from his right hand and Baltaszar opened his eyes. A small ball of fire hovered above his hand and for the first time in his life, Baltaszar Kontez confidently believed that his future could be happy, perhaps even meaningful.