Rise of the Red Harbinger

by Khalid Uddin

  Maven Savaiyon had started speaking, but Marshall’s mind wandered, mostly to his mother’s whereabouts. In random moments of clarity, he noticed Baltaszar drifting in and out of sleep, which was a routine when they met this early, while Lincan hung on every word. Lincan would likely catch Baltaszar up on everything throughout the day. Horatio, Desmond, and Lao stifled laughter while Sindha and Taran both stared dreamily at Lao. It was probable that each did not know the other was also staring.

  An hour later, Marshall only realized the lesson was over because the others had arisen and were leaving. Thankfully, Maven Savaiyon had not asked him anything. Marshall stood to follow the others when Savaiyon clasped his shoulder. “I understand your pensiveness today, but do not make it a habit. You need this information much more than most of the others do.” Savaiyon offered him a warm smile and walked away.

  ***

  The following morning, Marshall walked across the sprawling lawn toward where Maximillian had said he would be. Marshall had approached him during dinner, but their meeting was short. Maximillian simply confirmed who he was, then informed Marshall to meet him here in the morning.

  Marshall had always appreciated the beauty of the landscape around the House of Darian, but he had never thought much about who had made it so. Marshall marveled at the thought that Maximillian maintained the grounds by himself. Alone, it must have taken the man weeks to completely prune and tidy everything. Marshall wondered why nobody had been assigned to work with Maximillian. Perhaps Marlowe was punishing the man for something. Marshall would definitely not put it past the headmaster, especially after he had shown his true colors in their first meeting.

  Marshall reached Maximillian, who kneeled on the ground, ripping weeds from beneath a shrub and, judging by the soil to his right, his last one for that section. Before Marshall could even greet him, Maximillian nodded to the next section of shrubs several feet away, and gestured for Marshall to join him in working. Marshall did as was asked. “Maximillian…”

  “Max. Call me Max. Do you really want to say ‘Maximillian’ every time you address me?”

  “Max is fine. I have no objection.”

  “Good. I have already discussed you with Zin Marlowe this morning. As of this morning, you are my new assistant on the grounds.”

  “Assistant?”

  “Ever since Adria disappeared, I have been out here by myself. That is over two months now. I do not even know you, but I would rather talk to you than continue talking to myself for hours every morning. I asked Marlowe immediately for a new assistant, but as you can see, he felt no urgency in the matter.” Max’s voice reminded Marshall of his father’s–deep without being threatening. “After our meeting last evening, I approached Zin Marlowe this morning and requested you as my assistant. I must have caught him while a more pressing issue weighed on his mind, as he agreed dismissively with nothing more than a nod and a wave of the hand.”

  Marshall grabbed a fistful of soil and kneaded it in his hand. Something wriggled and then squished in his hand. “You worked with Adria?” Marshall had meant to ask something else, but forgot what it was.

  “Indeed. Best Descendant here, if you ask me. Did you know her? I did not think that you had arrived in time to have known her.”

  “Barely. She is the one who found me, left for dead in my village. She is the reason why I am here in the first place. Our time here overlapped for a few days, I believe. It was when we returned to my village that she was taken.”

  “Ah, so you feel responsible then, do you?” Max had moved onto the same segment of shrubs that Marshall was weeding. “Let me tell you something, Marshall. We are Descendants of Darian, the descendant of Taurean, chosen Harbingers of the Orijin. Our God chooses for us what he will, and we have to accept that.”

  “Well, that is not necessarily the entirety of it. You see, I…”

  “I see it now.” Max grinned a wide, toothy grin. “You are smitten.”

  “I had thought I was hiding it well. Is it so obvious?”

  “Marshall, you are one of dozens of young men here who are taken by Adria Varela. If Zin Marlowe actually allowed combat, we could arrange competitions for the right to woo her and even then it would not be enough to impress that girl. The trouble for all of you boys is that Adria is tougher than all of you and she knows it. And to make matters worse, every time a boy summons the courage to try impressing her, he thinks he can win her over by some show of dominance or strength. Adria does not care for such things.”

  “She has said this to you?”

  “She does not need to. All one must do is pay attention to her. She does not need a young man to be her protector or rescuer. She wants someone who will accept her as an equal, who will take her seriously.”

  Marshall flung a handful of weeds. “You speak as if you know that she will definitely return.”

  Max rolled his eyes, “I would think that after one conversation with Adria, you would know enough about her to be sure of that as well. Adria is a fighter. A survivor. Whoever has her, it does not matter. Even if tortured, Adria will be too much for her captors to handle. Trust me, boy, she will return. Likely battered, broken, or injured, but she will survive and find a way back to us.”

  “Your manifestation is what? Foresight? Wisdom? Or blind faith?”

  “Remember yourself, Marshall.”

  Marshall nodded, “I apologize. That was disrespectful.”

  “Indeed. I am aware that the notion of manifestations is new to you. But the fact remains that you are now in a place where everyone else sees manifestations as a normal part of their lives, and you must conform. I do not know the nature of how yours came about, but Descendants manifest out of necessity. These gifts do not simply arise from nothing. There is always a situation in which faith and desperation are involved. For many Descendants, a manifestation is what saves them from death.” Max’s face had grown very tense.

  “Was that the nature of yours?” Marshall hesitated. “I apologize once more if I am crossing the line in asking.”

  Max stared to the sky. “My father used to hit my mother. Sometimes it would be so bad that she could not leave the house for weeks. Sometimes it would extend tome and my older sister, if my mother could not satiate him. One night he got angry while he was holding a knife and slashed my mother’s arm. He dropped the knife immediately, perhaps realizing that he wasn’t far from killing her. But he looked at me and Victoria, my sister, like we would receive the ‘apology’ he could not give my mother. From the moment he’d gotten the knife, I prayed and prayed for Orijin to help us. When he walked toward us, I felt the desperation and prayed so hard that I cried. That was the first time I felt it. You know what I mean – the melody in your veins, like your blood is drunk with emotion.

  “I pushed Victoria behind me and when my father struck me, I simply absorbed the blow and felt no pain. It must have been the Mark appearing on my face that pushed him over, because he punched and punched until he was exhausted and each time he hit me, I felt stronger and stronger. Once he realized punching did not work, he grabbed my throat. I had not even thought of striking him until that moment. It took me a few seconds to muster the courage to throw a punch. When I finally did though, it sent him through the wall on the opposite side of the room. He stayed there for a while. We left him there, fixed my mother up, and went to sleep. It took me a few days to fully realize what it was that I could do. Turns out I can absorb energy and re-channel it. So if you have ever wondered why the plant-life on this island looks so amazing, it is because I can absorb the energy from the sunlight and use it to help everything grow. However, I only do it once a week, as it requires incredible energy.”

  Marshall ripped another handful of stringy weeds from the ground. “What happened to him? Your father?”

  “He returned a few days later with a few of the King’s soldiers. I imagine he knew what had happened to me. Why I’d had the ability to strike back at him with such force. It was illegal, and still is, to bear
the Mark in Cerysia. Though I hear King Edmund’s firstborn does bear it. They were merciful to me. They arrived in the morning and informed my mother that I had until sundown to leave the country. If no sentry witnessed me leaving through any gates, they would hunt me down and kill me. That was the King’s justice–side with the monster who forced his son into the desperate situation that called for the Mark in the first place.”

  “I assume you obeyed, which is why you are here. Is there such a thing as a comfortable life for a Descendant?”

  “My mother, sister, and I traveled through Galicea. They went on to the Wolf’s Paw and I continued on to come here. Galiceans do not like Cerysians anyway. I imagine nobody truly does anymore. Even those nations that have formed alliances mostly do so because it brings less scrutiny. This is our comfortable life, Marshall. Criticize Marlowe if you will, but we want for nothing at the House of Darian. We have luxuries undreamt of to any Descendant out in the rest of Ashur, believe me.”

  Marshall shook his head, “Does it not seem like a cruel joke, though? If everything that everyone here says and believes is true, along with that book, then how much of a blessing are these manifestations?”

  Max stopped weeding to look Marshall in the face. “There is no such thing as a Descendant who has not faced difficulty. Who has not put his or her faith in the Orijin in the direst of moments. You question the worth of a manifestation, but without it, my mother would have endured beatings, bloodier each time, until she was dead. This place is full of people who have faced similar and worse atrocities. You should learn to respect that.”

  Marshall turned from Max’s gaze. “I apologize. Again, I did not mean to offend. Truthfully, I am enjoying what I am learning here. Though it is difficult to come to terms with, at times, because of my way of life before coming here. I just wonder sometimes, what is the point of the Orijin giving us these manifestations if we are to be confined to an island and not accepted by the world?”

  “That is where many of us differ from Marlowe, as I am sure you know. Make no mistake, Jahmash is coming. We do not know when, but it is fate. I hope that his return is after Marlowe’s leadership has expired, so that at least the Descendants have an opportunity to defend Ashur, but who knows. All that we can really hope is that what manifestations we do have are enough to stop him if the responsibility falls upon our shoulders.”

  Marshall noticed a certain sadness creep into Max’s eyes and tried to abruptly change the subject. “So will I have to fight you for Adria as well?”

  Max chuckled. “You will never have to worry about me in that regard.” He eyed Marshall tentatively, as if unsure of whether to say more.

  Marshall nodded his head. “I understand. Rest easy, I will not tell anyone.” He thought of his cousin, Alden, for a moment.

  “Quite astute. Thank you.”

  They continued working for another hour while Max raved about how observant and aware Marshall seemed to be. Once their knees and arms ached, they walked toward the building where Max informed him they would find Desmond and Baltaszar, who would transport the weeds with levitation and then burn them at the beach on the southern shore of the island.

  “There is a reason why I came to speak with you this morning, Max. Truthfully, it had nothing to do with tending the grounds.”

  “It is of no matter; I would have requested you sooner or later. But tell me your reasoning.”

  Marshall eyed him speculatively. “I would like some council about my people and potential survivors. Maven Savaiyon informed me that you are an expert on the history of the Taurani. My whole village has been destroyed and the chance of survivors is slim. However, I have reason to believe that my mother might have escaped. When I returned, her body was not with the rest of my family in the rubble of my home. I would like to know if you have suggestions or advice about where she may have gone, assuming that she is alive.”

  Max stopped walking and turned to face Marshall, though Marshall stood nearly a foot taller. “First, you must truly embrace the possibility that your mother is dead. If we go down this road, I can make no promises about her being alive. I can only give you suggestions based on what I think. Understood?” Marshall nodded. “Good. Your mother’s whereabouts all depend on her escape. If she escaped toward the west...”

  “That is unlikely. We were attacked from the west. If she had fled that way, she would likely have been killed anyway.”

  “Unfortunately, that makes things difficult. North would only bring her to water. East would bring her to the Cerysian Wall, or whatever King Edmund calls it. That means that her only option would have been south. It would have been quite possible for her to head south, as she would most likely have come to the Eye of Orijin,” Max eyed Marshall, “which of course I must explain to you. It is an enormous lake in the middle of Ashur, and also contains an island that is home to the Tower of the Blind. That is inconsequential right now, however, because the Taurani who know of the Tower do not accept it. The problem is that, if your mother reached the Eye, then she would have many options in terms of where to go. She could feasibly be anywhere in the nations of Mireya or Galicea. Doubtful Cerysia”

  Marshall hung his head. “At least it is something. It is more than what I had this morning. Thank you.”

  “It is nothing. The very least I could do. However, you may want to consider another source. Savaiyon would not disclose this to you because he is too honorable. But he, Adria, and Lincan brought back a soldier when they found you. One of the soldiers who attacked your village. They keep him in the dungeon with the other prisoners, as far as I know. I do not venture down there, so I do not know if they have killed him or not.”

  Marshall tensed. “They have had him there all this time and no one thought to tell me? I expect that Marlowe would not tell me, given his personality, but nobody else thought that this might be something I would want to know? What happened to this place being a brotherhood? A family?”

  Max gestured for Marshall to start walking with him again. “Calm yourself. Raising your voice to me will not help you. You must understand that the soldier was not brought here because of anything to do with you personally. They had planned on questioning him. They want to interrogate him to see if they can find anything out about his general, or about Jahmash. The destruction of your village was much bigger than however it affected you, Marshall. I know that sounds heartless, but such events serve as a dire omen to all of Ashur. Go to the dungeon if you like. You will need a different reason to go down there, however. If you tell them you are there for the soldier, they will ask who sent you. If you say my name, then I shall help you no longer. Simply find a different reason to be there.”

  Simply? They were not far from the back of the House, “Is there another prisoner that I could request? Someone that it might make sense for me to speak to? It would be stupid of me to show up for an arbitrary reason.”

  “The only one that I know of is the Prince. But you did not hear that from me either. Only Mavens and those with dungeon responsibilities know, and take an oath of secrecy.” As they neared the path that led to the western entrance of the House, Marshall eyed Desmond and Baltaszar waiting for him and Max impatiently. They made no attempt to hide the displeasure on their faces. Just as Marshall was about to lighten their mood with a joke, a blur swished past him, so heavy that it knocked him to the ground. Marshall looked up quickly enough to see the blur stop. It was another Descendant, but the boy took another step and dashed several feet away.

  He stopped again and faced Marshall from afar, “This is not a place for clumsy people, Marshall. You should watch where you are going. Or perhaps go back to your people. Ah, never mind that.” As Marshall stood, the boy dashed toward him head on and knocked him flat on his back. Marshall pounded his fist against the ground. The boy stood over him. As he turned to dash away again, flames appeared around the boy, completely surrounding him. Marshall looked toward Baltaszar, who nodded at him and half-smiled. As Marshall looked back, the boy rose a few
feet in the air and turned upside down as if an invisible hand was moving him. Desmond. Baltaszar and Desmond walked closer and stood side by side with Marshall.

  Desmond put a hand on Marshall’s shoulder and turned to the boy. “Fool. Ya mess with him an’ ya mess with a bunch o’ us. What’s the matter, ya can’t swoosh away when yer facin’ upward?” Desmond was clearly stronger with his manifestation than this boy, and the boy’s countenance indicated that same sentiment.

  Max stepped forward and gestured for Desmond and Baltaszar to stop. The boy fell to the ground on his back and quickly tried to stand as the fire dissipated. “Reverron! Do not run away!” The boy turned and faced Max, shame shaping his mouth. His complexion marked him as a Cerysian, just like Max. “I know you to be better than this. And smarter than this. Explain yourself.”

  Reverron looked at Max and then at Marshall. “I am sworn to secrecy. My word is my bond.” With that, Reverron turned and, in a few dashes, retreated into the House.

  Max eyed the burnt ground where the fire had just been. “I apologize on his behalf, Marshall. Reverron is not normally that way. Arrogant yes. But not stupid. If he would use his manifestation for violence, especially in front of me, then he was dared or ordered to do so. It looks like your group is not the only one who enjoys mischief.”

  “But that makes no sense. Why attack me in front of others so blatantly?”

  Baltaszar responded, “He was moving so fast that he probably didn’t even see me and Desmond. We didn’t even notice him until you fell down.”

  Desmond chimed in. “He probably didn’t think we’d help. Baltaszar’s right; maybe he didn’t even see us either.”

  Marshall shook his head. “And why the insults? Why insult my people like that? Does he have something against Taurani?”

  “It makes sense, if you think about it,” Max weighed in. “Reverron never wanted a fight. He wanted a reaction out of you, but it did not work in his favor.”