Rise of the Red Harbinger (44 page)

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.”

Marshall understood. “He wanted me to fight back. He wanted me to be violent and attack him. But Desmond and Tasz stopped him. And you two did not even use violence. You just contained him. Violence would get me put in the dungeon or expelled from here. So what, does somebody want me to be dismissed from here?”

Max shrugged, “That seems the most logical explanation.”

“But who? And why?”

“I do not have an answer for you, my friend. However, Reverron unwittingly gave you an opportunity to get into the dungeon.”

Marshall looked at Max curiously, “How’s that?”

“He works in the dungeon. Reverron is the one who brings food to his countryman down there.” Marshall furrowed his brow in confusion. Max quietly uttered, “The Prince. Remember, he is Cerysian. Reverron is very proud of his people and his nation, despite how they treat Descendants. Find him. Think of a way to threaten him and have him do your bidding. One way or another, you must use this opportunity to get down there if you wish to see…the captive.”

Marshall gritted his teeth. “Coward. Let us see how he runs away when I have him by the neck, pinned against a wall. Thank you for the advice, Max. I will extort him. My word is my bond.”

Chapter 17

Solitude

From
The Book of Orijin,
Verse Three Hundred

O Chosen Ones, We shall challenge you with crucibles more difficult than most can handle. Once you overcome, your faith shall be unbreakable.

“
Only the Mavens
and a few others know that you are even here. Most of them would have you hanged. In fact, they grow angrier with each day that you are still alive.” Garrison’s Uncle Roland sat outside the bars of the dungeon cell. Garrison had not known much of his uncle, and hardly had any recollection of him. Roland Edevane was his mother’s older brother and had left Cerysia before Garrison had been born. While he enjoyed the security of having a family member to be concerned for him, Garrison wished that his uncle offered more sympathy and less bluntness.

Garrison had hardly the energy to speak with any gestures of animation. Since he’d been thrown into the bare cell, he’d been given only enough food and drink to keep him alive. Before he had left Cerysia, his stature was quite full and muscular from rigorous combat training and scores of missions. He now resembled a beggar. “Perhaps you could do more to raise my spirits?”

Roland scoffed and ran his hand over the stubble of hair on his head. “Raise your spirits? Boy, look at your body. They do not treat you this way as some idle threat or as a lesson. The only reason you have any nourishment is because I am here. Did I not make myself clear? These people want to kill you. And rightfully so. How many of their kind did you kill? Torture? Hunt? If I was not your uncle, I would want the same justice. The only argument in your favor is that Orijin knows the hearts of all men. If he manifested his gifts in you, then perhaps you are worth saving. That is the only argument I can present to Zin Marlowe and the Mavens.”

“They have to know that I have changed.”

“And why is that? Why do they have to know that? Until, what, a year ago, you were hunting them down. You were leading armies throughout Ashur to find them. You struck down so many of them for bearing the very mark that undeservingly stains your face. I want you to do something for me.”

Garrison looked Roland in the eye, “What?”

Roland returned the stare. “Recount the last Descendant that you hunted down. Take a few moments to remember, and then tell me the details. I want to know how you felt. How many men you brought. How the killing was done. And how much satisfaction you got from doing it.”

“Uncle, I…”

“No. If you are going to refuse, then do not call me that. Tell me what I ask or I shall no longer help you. My word is my bond.” Roland stood and turned.

“Wait. I will do it. I will tell you.” Garrison closed his eyes and breathed deeply for several moments. He rubbed his face with his hands and then clasped them on his lap. The stone floor felt even harder and colder beneath him. “We were at the Sanai, about to cross into Shivaana. We wanted to watch the animal fights in Sundari–my men had been teasing me about having never seen a vrschika. By then, I had already known that I no longer wanted to kill Descendants, so I thought that would be a nice, time-consuming diversion that would get their minds off of killing.

“Right after we crossed, some of our scouts were waiting for us on the other side with news of a nearly a dozen Descendants hiding in Rayan, a city in Fangh-Haan not far across the Sanai. We had sent those scouts out weeks before–they had taken so long that I did not expect any results. We shifted our course. I could not ignore the findings even if I had wanted. My men smelled blood. They were killers once more. Rayan was less than a day’s ride, so there was no stalling. Thirty of us arrived in Rayan just after midday. The gatekeepers did not even protest; they let us right in. We essentially stormed the city. My men invaded a few houses and inns, grabbed random people and dragged them into the center of town. I will never forget the looks on people’s faces as we rode through the streets. Nobody objected. They were like cattle accepting that lions had come to thin out their herd. They simply moved aside. If you are unfamiliar with Rayan, it thrives from its fishing industry. Every wide road in the town has large wooden platforms lining the middle of the street; a stranger would assume that Rayanese love to hang people, but the platforms are used to weigh their hauls.

“We brought our hostages to the center, climbed atop several platforms, and demanded that the Descendants be brought out of hiding. At first, nobody moved. Then one of my men, Trevor, sliced open a middle-aged man’s throat. I remember fighting back tears at that. Within seconds, mobs of Rayanese ran through the streets, storming houses and buildings. Three Descendants were brought before us. Defiance marked their faces and they struggled until they saw that we had hostages. I commanded them to kneel before me with their arms behind their backs. They looked at one another and then back at me. They stood there for moments, simply scowling at me. Trevor killed another innocent bystander–walked around to face him and then planted a dagger through his gut. Trevor shoved the man down and let him squirm for minutes until the life drained out of him. The three Descendants just stood there watching.

“I was already sick to my stomach at what had transpired, but there was no saving any of these people. If I had tried to stop my men or commanded them any differently, they would have killed me as well.” Garrison paused and rapped the back of his head against the stone wall of his cell a few times. He sighed and continued, “I raised my arm and signaled for my men to draw their bows. In another moment, all three Descendants had arrows through their skulls. Just as these three–all three of them were men likely not much over twenty years–just as their limp bodies fell, another five were being led toward us. They arrived just in time to see the others die. This group consisted of two boys and a girl near my age, a woman old enough to be my mother, and…” Garrison closed his eyes once more and paused for several moments.

Roland urged him on. “Go on. And?”

“And a little girl. Likely no older than seven years. She probably had not borne the Mark for very long. When I saw them, I knew I could not hide my emotions any longer. I donned my helmet to avoid having my tears seen. My men cheered at the site. They thought I was ready to take part and copied me, putting their helmets on. Willard, my second in command, came to me and said that they wanted me to kill the first of this new batch. I had already sworn to myself that I would no longer kill Descendants. I refused Willard. It took me several moments to think of a reason. Finally I told him that I had already killed so many that I wanted the rest of them to start catching up. I gave him my sword. Willard took it as an honor. He asked if he could kill all five. I left the decision to him.

“Willard was smart. He allowed four others to take part so there would be minimal chance of the Descendants fighting back. Willard killed the little girl first. I turned away, but it was obvious he’d beheaded her. It is a very distinct series of sounds, from start to finish. As for the others, I think seeing the little girl killed made them reckless. Made them feel like they had nothing to lose. The other girl, the one closer to my age, took one of my soldiers gently by the neck and kissed him deeply. In seconds he dropped to the ground, lifeless. One of the boys raised his hand toward our horses and beckoned. Every single one of our horses, save four, ran from the platforms toward the edges of the city. The other four ran to the Descendants. They mounted and raced off as my men shot arrows at them. We swore that we had shot all four of them down, but when we went to inspect the fallen bodies, nothing remained. It was an illusion.

“We demanded for the remaining Descendants to be brought to us. Two men came forward and informed us that they and their families had been housing the other three Descendants, but that the ones who stole our horses had taken them. I believed them. I nodded to Willard to indicate as such. He misinterpreted my signal. You see, there was a time when the same deliberate nod was a signal to kill them. Willard slit their throats. Once again, I nearly retched. Willard asked if we should kill both of their families and I stopped him. I told him that killing those two would be enough of an example. I told all of my men that I believed the two men and that we would have to accept that the Descendants escaped.

“We left Rayan immediately. Luckily, the nearest city in Cerysia was not far across the Sanai. It took us almost a week to walk to Killington and get new horses. That was the last time we ever killed a Descendant on a mission. I felt so relieved watching those four ride away, and even more joy when we realized that we had not killed them. That was the turning point. The whole mission confirmed my doubts.”

Roland sounded skeptical. “How long ago was that?”

“Somewhere around two years ago.”

“So for two years, your father and your soldiers have allowed you to simply stop hunting and killing Descendants? I find that hard to believe.”

“It was not as difficult to fool my father as it was to get my soldiers to understand me. You have met my father. He is easily satisfied if you are telling him what he wants to hear. For almost two years I simply lied to him. We would depart on missions and I would make up stories of Descendants we killed.”

“And your soldiers–how did they come to see the light?”

“I killed Willard.”

Roland looked impressed, but only for a moment. “Do tell.”

“On our next mission, a few weeks later, we rode out to Galicea. As soon as we crossed the border, I insisted that we set up camp for the night. As we ate, I commanded them that no Descendants would die on the mission. That we would no longer kill Descendants at all. They all laughed. They thought I was joking–understandably so.

“I had Willard stand up next to me. You see, my manifestation is the ability to invent and create things, and over the years, I have focused on creating weapons. I dabble most with elements like poisons to see how they will react with nature–things like water, blood, air, wood, and saliva. Once I find results that I like, I create pouches of the mixtures and assign different colors to them.

“The two greatest things about Willard are that he is eager and that he is an idiot. As everyone watched, I handed Willard a black pouch and instructed him to pour some of his water on it, then immediately empty the pouch into his mouth. I sat back down. He thought nothing of it. He likely thought I was giving him dessert. He followed my orders. In a few moments, Willard was writhing on the ground, coughing hysterically. His clothes decayed and his body turned black and then all of his blood oozed from his skin as he clawed at himself.

“The others stood and looked on in horror. I watched their reactions. I stood again, unsure of whether Willard had even died yet. I repeated my command. ‘No more killing Descendants.’ I told them that if they disobeyed or betrayed me, I had enough pouches to kill all of them. They would suffer the same fate if anyone outside of our company was notified. Future missions would include only the men present. If they failed to report, I would find them and kill them. When we returned to Alvadon, we would say that Willard was killed by a Descendant, and we quickly carried out vengeance on his murderer. Going forward, we would travel and upon return, I would give my father the report.”

“And for how long did you fool King Edmund?”

“The entire time. We continued missions until I finally confronted him that I wanted to come to the House of Darian. You know him, he does not question it if he likes what he hears. I concocted dozens of fantastic stories of hunting and killing Descendants. He had no reason to doubt me. In retrospect, I was likely better off being honest with him much earlier. Maybe he would not have disowned me.”

Roland stood and walked to the bars of the cell. “Do you…”

Garrison held up his hand to cut off Roland. “I know what you are going to say, Uncle. Save it. I understand the hypocrisy of my actions. Of my life. I also understand why everyone hates me and wants to see me dead. But they cannot be so stupid to think I would come here if I had not changed.”

“Do you think changing, after all that you’ve done, excuses your past sins?”

“That is for the Orijin to decide, not men. If they would call themselves ‘Descendants of Darian’, then they should follow the word of the Orijin as well. Only minutes ago you said that the Orijin knows the hearts of men. If I was only meant for evil, then why would he bless me with a manifestation?”

Roland nodded. “That is true. But before I say anything to Zin Marlowe on your behalf, convince me of why I should defend you.”

Garrison shook his head, then summoned his strength. He stood and walked to face Roland. “If I wanted to, I could have stayed in Alvadon. If I was truly as evil as everyone here thinks I am, I could have stayed put and lived out my glamourous princely life in which I would have anything I want at a simple request. My life in Cerysia consisted of traveling Ashur, returning home to feasts, merriment, commanding an army, and best of all, sleeping with a beautiful woman who only wanted to please me. On top of all of that, I was destined to become King of Ashur. Most men have nothing beyond a small home that they can call their own; from the time I could ride a horse, the Stones of Gideon were my personal place of serenity. If I truly wanted to destroy the Descendants, I could have simply waited for my turn as King and continued to hunt them down.