by Khalid Uddin
Marshall looked at him strangely. “You’re coming down with us. You need a break just as much as we do. You have no idea how much energy you just used, but once Max lets you go, you will feel it.”
Desmond bit his lip. He hadn’t even considered that Maximilian would release him from the energy transfer. He looked at Maximilian reluctantly and nodded. “Go ahead.”
The surge of energy within him slowed. “I will leave you with enough to keep you awake and alert, as if you have gotten a full-night’s sleep.” After several moments, he said, “There. You will be just fine on that.” Maximilian turned and walked toward the back staircase without waiting for a response. Desmond followed quickly as Marshall joined him.
“Go down the stairs. One of us should stand at the top, as a lookout.” Once again, Marshall eyed him suspiciously.
***
Savaiyon woke to the feeling of coldness ripping through his body. He lay face down and attempted to turn his head. “Stay still! You have almost a dozen blades sticking out of you! If you keep moving around, it’ll only hurt more!”
“Do not worry about the pain, boy. Just get them out of me. Did you hit him?” Savaiyon gritted his teeth and girded himself for the process. He assumed that he’d awoken while the first dagger was being removed.
“I can’t be sure. I thought I did, but he disappeared right after.”
“Hopefully you did. And hopefully it was enough to keep him away for a while.” Focus. It was too dark to focus on his surroundings, so he closed his eyes and pictured the ship-building docks at Gansishoor. Watching the workers build them always filled him with serenity and wonder. The process of building good ships, especially the large ones that were being made recently, was so intricate. The builders were able to fit so much below the deck; Savaiyon could not imagine how many people could live on the ship comfortably, even on a long voyage. He imagined what it might be like to live at sea, with no wars or conflicts or threats to interfere. The only thing that would matter would be to catch one’s meals each day and then relax.
Savaiyon was suddenly shaking. “Wake up! Did you fall asleep again while I was pulling out the daggers? How does that even happen?” Horatio rolled Savaiyon onto his back and hoisted him to a sitting position. “I need you to do the same thing to me. You have no idea how painful it is to pull daggers out of someone while you have one in your own back!” Horatio turned around and sat on his knees, awaiting Savaiyon’s help.
“I know how to control myself better than you, boy. And I know better than to whine about pain.” If he had had the energy, Savaiyon would have pulled the blade out slowly, just to annoy Horatio even more. Instead, he removed it quickly and inspected the weapon. Horatio cursed loudly and lay down. The dagger’s hilt was not ornate, laden with jewels or anything flashy, but the engravings were intricate and the symbols were nothing Savaiyon had seen before. He inspected the others on the ground beside him. Each was similar. “These are not Ashurian. This Maqdhuum is a confusing man. He works for Jahmash; that is obvious. But why did he not kill us? He certainly had the opportunity to kill me and many others inside the House. In fact, given his ability to Travel anywhere, even faster than I can, he could have been killing Descendants long ago. I am too tired to think clearly. Help me up, boy. I do not have the energy to create a bridge back to The House. You are going to have to be a crutch for me so we can walk over to the touch portal. Honestly, it would be better if you could carry me. I have lost too much blood.”
Horatio’s response was strained. “I can barely walk there myself, much less carry you. I used up most of my energy on that massive lightning strike, and even still I don’t know if I hit him. He definitely hit me though. I’m still woozy from it. Is he a Descendant?”
“That was Maqdhuum. He has no Mark. We only became aware of his existence about eight months ago. For someone who can appear and disappear so easily, I would imagine one of two scenarios. Either many people know of him because of his ability without bearing the Mark. Or more likely, nobody knows of him because he has chosen to hide what he can do. My suspicion is that he is not from Ashur. But everything about him changes our understanding of the world.” Savaiyon shifted to his hands and knees. “Come. We have to start moving. It will take some time to get to the touch portal. Let’s stop wasting our energy talking.”
Over half of an hour later they reached the touch portal within the cave and were transported to the main common room of the House. The process, along with the amount of blood he’d lost, made Savaiyon dizzy. Horatio vomited.
Savaiyon struggled to raise himself to hands and knees. He heard a voice. “Stay down, Maven. I’ll get you!” It was Marshall. He hoisted him up and threw Savaiyon’s arm over his shoulder, acting as a crutch. He could barely coordinate as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Savaiyon opened his eyes to see Lincan and Delilah standing over him. Above them, the ceiling was severely cracked. “How long have I been out?”
Delilah held up a hand, as if sure that Savaiyon would attempt to get up. “Not long. Twenty minutes or so. Long enough for us to patch you up and for your heart to start replenishing your blood. You are almost healed. You might be tired for a while though, while your heart makes up for the blood loss and your body recovers.”
“Horatio?” He looked around for the boy.
“Horatio is fine. His wounds were fewer than yours. More than anything, he needs to rest. Whatever it was that you two did, it drained him. How much lightning did he summon, Savaiyon?” She nodded toward a cot on Savaiyon’s right.
He looked over to see Horatio sleeping. “I do not know. I was lying on the ground, face down, full of daggers, and without much sense of my surroundings.”
“Please tell us as much as you can, Maven Savaiyon.” The voice came from the wall, where Zin Marlowe walked through an opening escorted by Maven Blastevahn. Blastevahn was the only Maven in the House as tall as Savaiyon, although his stockier build made him look brutish. In truth, Blastevahn was one of the nicest people Savaiyon had ever met. Marlowe continued, “You were missing for hours, and the gateways that were protecting the island disappeared. Obviously you were in serious trouble.”
Savaiyon assumed that Marlowe had been confined to his chamber, the sturdiest and most secure location in the House, and used a hidden passageway to access the infirmary. Now that Savaiyon assessed the surroundings, he realized that the infirmary was filled with two to three dozen Descendants. He was shocked, “This is all that is left? Thirty of us?”
Badalao stepped forth. “As far as we know. There was too much destruction. Both housing wings were decimated. Most of the deaths were caused by collapsing walls and floors. Desmond was the only one capable of stopping the whole House from crumbling. We were nearly crushed trying to keep the first floor ceiling up. He focused on the front. If there had been daylight I could have communicated with several Descendants to stay coordinated. Our enemies knew too much about us. The Augur in Vandenar had to have been right. There is a traitor within.” They looked around at one another. “That being said, Desmond returned fire with their own weapons. Many of their ships have sunk. Marshall briefly cast a light over the ocean. There are still scores of galleys out there. It is likely only a matter of time before they engage us with more cannons or on foot. As you said Maven, there are only about thirty of us, but we have to make the best of our numbers.” He looked at Marlowe and then back at Savaiyon. “Those who can fight should fight, with manifestations or hand-to-hand. There is no…”
Marlowe stepped to the center of the room. “Enough. Let us hear what Maven Savaiyon has to say. I have a feeling it might be crucial to the outcome of this battle. Savaiyon?”
Savaiyon stroked his short hair and looked at Badalao regretfully. “Very well. I was attacked in my room. By Maqdhuum, a man who can Travel faster than I can. He stabbed me and I managed to throw him against the wall and daze him. Every time I created a new doorway and escaped he was right behind me. Every time he knew exactly wher
e I was going. Only he was not creating doors. He was simply disappearing and reappearing. All we know about this man is that he works for Jahmash. How is Maqdhuum capable of these abilities if he does not bear the Mark? Only a few of you in this room are aware that there are nations beyond Ashur. Even in those nations, while there is the possibility that Descendants of Darian are there, there have never been reports of others with such remarkable abilities without the Mark. Maqdhuum is something completely different. Unless…”
Marshall suddenly came running down the stairs with Maven Maximilian, “They are coming! Their soldiers are leaving the ships and coming ashore! A general leads them! Maven Maximilian has confirmed that it is Drahkunov! We need everyone up here now! Especially you, Max!”
Before anyone could react, Marlowe stopped them. “Wait! Everyone stay here for a moment! Maven Maximilian, go back upstairs and help Desmond. The rest of you, wait! I am going to tell you what must be done. We will not win this fight based on numbers. Especially if Drahkunov is their general. It is time you all saw the truth for what it is.” In mere seconds, Marlowe’s appearance changed drastically from his normal appearance to that of a withered and wrinkly old man. His skin tone remained the same Cerysian hue, but gone were the full head of hair, straight posture, and young face and skin. Gasps filled the room, almost as loud as the cannonballs earlier.
Marlowe continued, “For so long, I am sure that most of you assumed I simply did not age. However, the truth is that I can change my form to resemble anyone I wish. I am actually ninety years old, not the young man you assumed me to be. There is no time for an explanation now. It is time to fight. I will go to the shore and assume the appearance of Drahkunov. He will look like this.” Marlowe changed appearances once more to a middle-aged, slightly overweight man Galicean man with dark hair. “If I can fool his soldiers long enough I can buy time for the rest of you by giving them false orders and commanding them to retreat.” Marlowe looked like an old, frail man once more. “Do not attack Drahkunov until you see me appear in this form again. Now let us go and defend our home!”
Everyone in the room hurried up stairs ahead of Marlowe. Savaiyon, still in disbelief, shook himself and hurtled out of the cot. It made so much sense now. He ran upstairs as Lincan roused Horatio. They reached the common room a few moments after Savaiyon. Delilah was right, he thought, I am too tired for this. Did Horatio just sleep through all of that?
***
The first few glimpses of dawn allowed Adria to watch every crew member abandon the galley and run ashore as she sat shivering and still tied to the mast. Something still gripped her mind, sometimes more strongly than others. She was angry at the whole world, but felt flashes of elation rise here and there. Sometimes she would cry for several minutes at a time.
As far as she could tell, the ship was now empty except for her. It had been hit with a few cannonballs and was sinking at a moderate pace. Adria guessed that within the hour, the ship would be completely underwater. She was unsure whether the thought was hers or not.
Did I think that? Or was it Jahmash? It took her a moment to realize that nothing gripped her mind any longer. As happy and relieved as she was, a sudden wave of shame came over her. How am I going to escape? The prophecy said I would go back home! Was there some hidden meaning in the words? Did I not understand it correctly?
From the time that Adria had been captured, and then again when she was secured to the ship mast, she swore that she would escape. Adria was many things at the moment: exhausted, starving, numb, and desperate, but the only notion that angered her was that she was a victim. All that fighting, all that energy expended trying to be respected and treated as an equal, and now she would have to be rescued by others in order to survive.
She sulked for a few more moments until she grew bored of feeling sorry for herself. “No. I am not a victim. Those who sit by and do nothing end up in Oblivion. Not me. Not. Me!” Her hands were bound by a metal chain around the mast. The chain wasn’t long enough for her to turn around, so she would have to scrape it back and forth against the mast while facing away from it.
She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and furiously worked the chain against the thick wooden mast. She pivoted her arms back and forth relentlessly for several minutes. “Don’t stop to check. Just keep working,” she thought as she tightened her eyes and fought against exhaustion. She focused so hard on her escape that she had no idea of the man crouching down in front of her.
“I hate to have to tell you this,” his voice was low, but Adria jumped as if she’d just been screamed at, “but what you’re doing…you’ll drown long before your chain saws through the mast.”
She looked up, finally calm. Maqdhuum. “You? What do you want?”
“I was thinking about rescuing you. Doesn’t seem like your friend Drahkunov plans to. Your Descendant friends don’t even know you’re here.”
“Rescue me? If I wasn’t dehydrated, I would spit on you! You only want to take me back to Jahmash! I would rather die than go with you! Especially back to him!”
Maqdhuum laughed. “I highly doubt Jahmash is willing to work with me any longer. I’m willing to bet that I’ve lost his trust. You’re safer with me than with anyone else. Especially against him.” Adria noticed Maqdhuum’s left hand hanging limp. It was severely bloodied and discolored, and his sleeve was in tatters, with several holes.
“That arm of yours going to protect me?”
He looked down in annoyance. “This thing? Scratch. I’ve had worse. Listen. I will save you. Only problem is I can’t remove your shackles. If I concentrate hard enough, we can Travel away without the shackles and when we reappear, your arms wouldn’t be bound. Naturally you would agree to not attack me in the process.”
The offer sounded tempting. Agreeing to his terms seemed like the only opportunity to escape death. “Fine. I will let you free me. But we appear right back on this deck. No tricks. I want to be sure I can trust you. Then, I’ll consider going with you.”
He nodded, “Fair. No moving while I Travel. It might not work correctly. Last thing we want is to mess up your pretty little self in any way.”
“What are you planning to do with me?”
Maqdhuum looked at her suspiciously. “Do?” He looked her up and down for a moment. “Oh, I see. Don’t worry. I have no ulterior motives. Might as well tell you the truth, if I’m to take you with me.” He looked back at her. “We need to form an army. People who will actually fight against Jahmash. Not like your friends in that sorry House of Darian. Once he manages to get off that island of his, Ashur’s in big trouble. I like you. You have passion. Conviction. Figure you’re a good place to start. Any of your friends survive this attack, maybe I’ll take them, too. That one he’s looking for, Baltaszar; got to find him as well. He would be quite the asset against our Red Harbinger. Surprised we haven’t been attacked by Baltaszar out here yet. Unless he doesn’t know what is happening. Hopefully he’s not dead already. Anyway, here. Take my hand.”
Adria hesitated. How do I keep getting into these situations? “Don’t know Baltaszar. One more question. Then…then I’ll go with you.” Adria put her hands down to the deck and leaned back against the mast. She took a deep breath, nervous about the answer to what she was about to ask. “What are you? You’re not a Descendant. That’s obvious. But no one else can do what we can. So why can you disappear and reappear if you aren’t a Descendant?”
Maqdhuum grinned widely. “Answer to that is easy. But I’m not going to tell you here. Take too long. Let’s get out of here. Then you get the truth. Give me your hand.” He held out his hand, palm up, to her.
Adria lifted her right hand somewhat reluctantly. She was simultaneously intrigued and afraid. She rested her hand in his palm. Adria instantly saw a split-second flash of hundreds of colors extending toward her, then she was sitting on the deck at the other end of the boat. Traveling like this was much preferable to the touch portal leading to the House. “Wow.” Finally free of the shackles, s
he thanked Orijin.
“See. No reason to be afraid.”
A shout came from where they’d just been. “Let her go! Right now!”
Marshall. He was with Maven Savaiyon, who also barked a command. “Mouse! Run!” Both of them ran to her instantly. Adria felt Maqdhuum grip her arm and she saw the same brilliant spectrum of colors once more. No!
***
Horatio stood on the shore, fighting exhaustion and fatigue just as much as the soldiers attacking him and his brethren. Books had described stories of Descendants dying from using their manifestations for too long without rest or sustenance. He assumed that this day would bring the same for him.
He brought forth lightning bolt after bolt, striking soldiers down as they ran ashore. Most were not even aware of him, which made things easier. It was always easier to kill his enemies when he didn’t have to look at their faces. If they were charging someone else, all the better. It had been easy to forget how tired he was because the waves of soldiers were unrelenting. Marlowe said something about Drahkunov. Keep an eye out for him. What did he look like again?
Many of the others had made it clear that they’d accepted the possibility of dying in this battle. Horatio had held his tongue. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t sure if that meant he wouldn’t sacrifice his life if the time came, but he might have second thoughts. Perhaps it might depend on the situation. I guess it’s probably bad to tell them I wish Tasz was here. He, Tasz and Desmond could have wiped out the whole army within an hour.
He did appreciate the help that actually was on the shore with him, though. Reverron confused soldiers by dashing around and striking them before they could defend. Sindha created a sort of force field to prevent another front from advancing, which allowed other Descendants like Badalao and Malikai to engage them in combat. Behind them, Desmond and Maximilian returned any cannonballs still being fired. Horatio was very appreciative of his manifestation. It did not require much focus to execute simple attacks. Lightning was deadly even when it wasn’t completely accurate. What did they say Drahkunov looked like? Chubby? Overweight. Galicean feature. And loud. That’s what Savaiyon said. Got to be aware of him.
