by Khalid Uddin
“Your voice. I have heard it before, though I do not know how.”
“My name is Adria. I rescued you with Lincan,” she pointed behind her, “and Maven Savaiyon. You likely heard me talking while we brought you back here.”
The girl intrigued Marshall. She looked like she could be several years younger than he was, but she spoke with a formality that could have been several years older. After glancing at Lincan a few more times, Marshall deduced that he was likely of a similar age as Marshall. The few stubbly pieces of hair on Lincan’s chin were laughable, but his eyes gave away his age. Marshall shook off his ponderings. He had questions. “Then you can explain what happened to me?”
“What happened to you as far as…”
“I was stabbed through my core. I felt the steel of the blade slice right through me. I also felt the blood pour out of me. I am no stranger to injury or combat. I should be dead. Gunnar told me that Lincan can heal. And while I do not accept the practices of you ‘Descendants’, even if you can perform miracles, Lincan, do you regularly bring the dead back to life?”
Adria sternly cut in before Lincan could respond. “We found you because I heard your heartbeat. You would be a fool to not accept our abilities, because the only reason you are here speaking to us is due to the manifestations of me, Lincan, and Savaiyon. I do not expect gratitude, especially now that it is clear that such a thing is beyond you, but I do expect you to recognize and accept a truth when it is clear before your eyes.”
Lincan spoke without shifting his demeanor or position, “She’s right. Resurrection is beyond my abilities. But you were still breathing when we found you. We don’t know how there was any blood left in you. Your clothes, skin, and armor were caked in it, along with the ground beneath you. You only had one wound, yet I’ve never had to heal anyone so extensively as with you. I nearly passed out from overworking myself. Maybe it has to do with your missing shadow and reflection. Maybe there’s a connection between that and you being alive.”
Adria’s head shot up, “Brilliant! Linc, Savaiyon would be so proud of you! When did you realize that?”
“Hold on, Mouse. I just now thought there might be a connection. That doesn’t mean that it’s true.”
Marshall looked at Adria peculiarly. Lincan had called her ‘Mouse’ and she hadn’t even blinked. “Whether that is true or not, how do we go about testing such a theory? Do you propose we miraculously find my shadow and reflection, and then try to kill me? And to be sure, did he just call you ‘Mouse’?”
Adria smiled brightly, “It is a pet name. Only certain people are allowed to call me that, though. Think of it more as a term of endearment. I tend to have a great deal of…conflicts here. Too many of you men have an issue with my size. But do not think that you are deserving of calling me that; you have not earned the right.” Her smile faded as she spoke those last words.
Marshall nodded, “Understood. But seriously, what would you suggest we do about my dilemma? Now that I am well again, I would like to have a reflection…and a shadow.”
Adria answered excitedly, “Is it safe to assume that you never noticed your shadow was missing? Or your reflection?”
“Trust me; I would have remembered not seeing either. I had a shadow before I was attacked.”
“Very well. Then perhaps we should return to your village. I mean, it seems like this whole ordeal happened between that invasion and us finding you. However, I am curious of one thing. You bear the Mark. I hope I am not being intrusive, but what is your manifestation?”
Marshall rolled his eyes. “By manifestation, you mean magical power?”
Adria smirked, “If you want to call it a magical power, then fine. But it is widely accepted that what we can do is the Orijin’s will manifested through us. Hence, manifestation.”
“Give it whatever fancy name you want. It is magic. And I do not have one. Whatever mark is on my face is likely a remnant of a tattoo that did not disappear when Lincan healed me.”
“It wouldn’t work that way,” Lincan insisted.
Adria stood and held a hand up as if to cut Lincan off. “How can you be such a fool, Marshall? Are you so stubborn to refuse logic? The mark on your face is the same exact line that appears on every single man and woman in this place. But only yours is there by accident?” Adria’s voice continually got louder. “Tell me; are all Taurani as dense as you? If so, I can see why you were all defeated so easily!”
Marshall jumped out of the bed and closed in on Adria. Lincan stepped closer and clenched a fist, his eyes fixed on Marshall’s. Marshall grabbed the chair that Adria had just been using. “Get out! Both of you! Leave me! Now!” He lifted the wooden chair and smashed it against the tiled floor. Lincan and Adria left the room casually, obviously not threatened by Marshall’s anger.
Marshall picked up a large piece of the chair and threw it against the wall. He held his hands and arms out before him, inspecting them, then walked to the mirror once more. Once again, he saw right through where his reflection should have been. Marshall punched the mirror, cracking it as shards of glass fell. He then picked up the entire thing and smashed it against the wall. Glass shattered and wood splintered and debris flew all about. As his anger subsided, exhaustion set in. Marshall dropped to his knees. What…happened? To everything? How can all this be? They must be lying. They must be!
He sat unmoving for several minutes, lost in repeating thoughts and questions. The opening door pried his attention. Gunnar stepped in and immediately walked over to bring Marshall to his feet. “Let’s go boy. It’s time you spoke to Marlowe.” Marshall followed him out of the room, tiptoeing to avoid glass fragments that littered the floor.
Gunnar led him down a long, wide corridor that opened to a common room. The walls and mood of the entire place felt very gloomy to Marshall. Aside from torches on the grey stone walls, the only color in any room was the blood red of the rugs in the common room. “This does not look like the happiest of places, eh Gunnar.” Gunnar grunted. They traversed two more similar rooms when Marshall saw two men speaking by an open doorway. Both bore the golden brown skin and features of Cerysians. Gunnar continued toward them.
The two Cerysians turned their attention as Marshall and Gunnar neared. The taller of the two clasped the other’s shoulder, bowed his head, and then walked away. The shorter Cerysian man shifted his attention to Gunnar and Marshall. “Ah, Gunnar! Is this the Taurani?”
“Ja, and he is a feisty one. I zought it vise for him to see you now ozerwise he might have destroyed all of ze recovery room.”
“Yes, I see. Very well. You may leave us then, Gunnar. Thank you for your discretion.” Gunnar bowed slightly toward the man and left. “Come boy, come in. It is Marshall, correct?” Marshall nodded. “Splendid. My name is Zin Marlowe. Come, let us sit in my office. There is much for us to discuss, and I think it is best if we have our privacy.” Marlowe gestured for Marshall to enter the room then signaled for a hulking man inside to leave. “Blastevahn, please leave us.” The brute, who also had a black line down his left eye, walked out and shut the door behind him.
The office was as bare as the rest of the building, aside from a desk with a few wooden chairs surrounding it and two long couches. Marlowe led Marshall to the desk and sat behind it. Marshall studied him for a moment. “Gunnar said you are the Headmaster here. I assumed you would be…older. You look like you could be my older brother.”
The man paused and then smiled. “Does that bother you? That a man so young would lead so many?”
“Bother? No. Not if you are a good leader. But it is rare that someone as young as you can handle the responsibility.”
Marlowe looked to be contemplating Marshall’s words. “Marshall, I am known to be a very direct man. Some would say honest and others would say rude. And some here would likely have worse words to describe me. At times, I imagine they are all true. The point I am trying to make here is that I will always say what needs to be said. People will not always like it, but it is n
ot my way to sweeten words for the sake of one’s feelings. I tell you this because you will not like what I have to say to you. You will also not agree with it, at least not right away. But that does not mean I am wrong. Do you understand?”
Marshall stopped short of rolling his eyes. “Go on. Since I awoke here, your people have made it clear how wrong and stupid I am.”
“Wrong, yes. But not stupid…more like foolish. First, to address your view on leadership, you should never assume a leader is unfit simply based on his age. In my time, I have seen boys half your age better at leading than men twice your age. Leadership comes from necessity, not age. A good leader knows what his people need and will do anything he can to get it for them. You are a man—barely—who I am sure has yet to leave his village. You know nothing of leadership. You know that the Taurani are…were feared throughout Ashur because that is what your elders have engrained in your mind since you were a boy. You look at others as if they should kneel before you simply because of the reputation of your people. But you Marshall, you yourself have done nothing in your life except train for the possibility of danger. You do not have the right to judge leadership because you yourself are not fit to lead. You would do well to remember that, especially if you wish to continue the bloodline of your people. You understand that because of recent events, the responsibility now falls on you to lead?” Marlowe’s unwavering stare fixated on Marshall’s eyes the entire time he spoke. His eyes pierced more than his words.
Marshall nodded reluctantly. “I had a feeling the burden was mine. Though I had not quite gotten to addressing it. I would like to first return to my village. And I seem to have an issue with my reflection and shadow.”
“Everything will be addressed in time. What I was getting to was that even I am not what I may seem. I am much older than you think and I have my manifestation to thank for that. You undoubtedly have noticed that everyone here bears a line down their left eye? Are you so stubborn to think that is a strange coincidence or that we put them there ourselves? You need not respond; we both know the answers to those questions. But answer this instead. What is your manifestation, Marshall?”
Marshall’s eyes widened, “For the love of Taurean. This question again?”
“You heard me correctly, boy. You bear the same mark as the rest of us. What is it that you can do? Or do you not know just yet? I would not be surprised, given how blind you Taurani tend to be. I have only ever met one Taurani who embraced his manifestation, and even he turned out to be a fool. But answer me boy. What can you do? It is nothing to be ashamed of here.”
“Taurani do not practice magic. We are warriors. The Orijin blessed Taurean and his partners with the ability to perform miracles. And then the Five after them. Those of you who would practice your spells and charms only defy the Orijin.”
Marlowe’s voice rose. “Taurani do not practice magic because your people cling to outdated beliefs. Boy, do you know why your people cover your bodies with markings and tattoos? It is not some warrior code or tradition. It was done centuries ago to hide the fact that you all bear the Mark. You are all direct descendants of Taurean. So was Darian. One of Darian’s wives was also a descendant of Taurean and that is where you all came from. The rest of us who are not Taurani descend from the children of his other wives. Marshall, we are all descendants of Darian, and thus descendants of Taurean. It is not dark magic that we practice; it is the blessing of the Orijin.”
Marshall’s anger surfaced through the redness of his face, and he then slammed his fist down on the desk. “And who told you such lies? Is this the nonsense that you feed your followers here so that you can control and manipulate them?”
“You are not angry because I have offended you. You are angry because you know there is a chance that I am right. I know the difference. Regardless, I can prove my words. A few centuries ago, one of the first to bear the Mark was a man named Arild Hammersland. Hammersland had the unique manifestation with which he could communicate with the Orijin; however he made it clear that this communication was on the Orijin’s terms. Hammersland himself could not choose when such dialogue would happen.” Marlowe continued his intent gaze at Marshall, “At the Orijin’s request, Hammersland wrote a book that detailed guidelines for life, descriptions of the Three Rings, and even mentioned the Descendants of Darian—those of us who would bear this mark.” Marlowe pointed to his eye. “He entitled it The Book of Orijin. We have dozens of copies of it here. It is something that all Descendants must read within one year of being here. Now that you are with us, you will be required to read it as well.
“Marshall, I do not blame you for being skeptical. In fact, I understand truly and completely why you would be. Everything the House of Darian stands for is contrary to your entire way of life. It should not be something you readily accept. But I do expect you to have an open mind about this place. We are concerned only with helping you, which is why we brought you here in the first place. It was not something that we had to do.”
Marshall shook his head and bit his lip. Marlowe had a point; they had nursed him back to health without being obligated to do so. But what if they only did that for leverage so that I might become one of their followers? “So then restoring my health…am I supposed to have an obligation to you now?”
“Obligation? Truthfully, everyone here feels an obligation to be here before they even meet us. There are few places in Ashur anymore where Descendants are safe. Especially for you now. This has been the way for decades, thanks to King Edmund. And you have no people to whom you can return.”
“You do not know that for sure.”
“Marshall, we sent a team out to your village to find survivors. If there were others, we would have brought them back with you. Adria and Savaiyon are very good at what they do.”
“I want to see for myself. I want to go back.”
“And you will. We have no quarrel with that. You can see for yourself the desolation of your village. But truthfully, Marshall, if I am right about your people, then what do you have to lose by staying here? At least here you have a chance to follow a new path. If you are the last of the Taurani, then there is nothing left for you out in the world.”
Marlowe had cornered him and they both knew it. For all his stubbornness, Marshall could not deny that point. If the Taurani had been vanquished, then there was nothing left for him outside the House of Darian. But that did not mean that he had bought into their ideologies. Their way of thinking was still vastly different than his own. “I still do not share your beliefs. If you are correct about my people, then there is nothing for me inside or outside of this place.”
Marlowe breathed deeply. “Marshall. Let us compromise. You are not obligated to me or anyone here, though I hear you could be more polite. Perhaps we can make an agreement, however. If I am right about your people, then you return to the House of Darian. While here, we will give you as much time as you need to accept our way of life. During that time, you will read The Book of Orijin. After you have completed it, if you still refute our ideology, then you are free to leave. No arguments. No questions. Agreed?”
Marshall leaned forward, clasped his hands, and rested his chin on them for several moments with his eyes closed. My people would ostracize me for agreeing to this. But my people may not even be alive any longer. He looked at Marlowe once more, “If I still disagree with you, no one will stop me from leaving? No one will come after me the moment I step out?”
Marlowe looked Marshall in the eyes once more. “If you choose to leave, no one will touch you. My word is my bond.”
Marshall sighed, “I cannot do this. To even have this conversation with you brings shame to my people and my way of life.”
“You have no people.”
Marshall’s eyes shot up. “Forget it, forget your stupid deal. For someone who seeks compromise, you lack the skills to make me trust you.”
Marlowe stood and leaned forward across the desk and growled, “Forget compromise, boy. I have made my offer and yo
u have refused it. There is no more choice. You will stay here, whether you like it or not. You belong to me now. If you try to fight or escape, I will have my Mavens destroy you. And then what will be left of your people?”
Marshall smiled and stood to meet Marlowe’s eyes. “Do you think you are the first man to threaten me? Do you think I am afraid to die?”
“Your arrogance means nothing to me and it betrays you. Tell me, boy, if you die, what chance is left for your people? The Taurani will end with your stubbornness and pride. And we will destroy all evidence that you ever existed. You would be stupid if you were not afraid to die.”
Marlowe had cornered him too easily once more. Marshall had no argument left. Until he could know for sure whether any Taurani still lived, he would have to obey. He reluctantly nodded, “Very well. I will do your bidding. But if I am to be your prisoner, and am to agree not to fight or cause you any problems, you must allow me to see my village one last time. If my people are truly dead, then I must carry out the rituals for my family. Grant me this one request and I will cause you no problems.”
Marlowe nodded with a smirk, “It is done. You will depart tomorrow morning. You will arrive moments later. Maven Savaiyon will transport you there. I will also send Badalao, Desmond, and Maven Gunnar with you. You will realize immediately the benefit of a manifestation. And if you attempt anything foolish, you will regret it instantly. Do not think we will allow you to escape.”
“Understood.”
“No. You are a Descendant in the House of Darian now. The only words I will accept from you are ‘My word is my bond’.”
“What?”
“Say it. Without those words, we have no agreement.”
