Chapter 3 – Judge
All his life, he had carried an assortment of visual goals for his anger: the different faces of the adversaries who had inflicted wounds upon him. Whether it was a heckler from behind, an insolent adult from in front, or a beast that sought to devour him – there was always a face. Like an assembly line, they passed through his thoughts, met him en route, engaged in an unforgettable battle with him in the recesses of his mind, and then continued on their way, forever changed by their interaction with the angry young man.
And Aidan hadn’t even had his Fire Arts back then.
But this was different. Whoever was responsible for the deaths of his people had not just wounded his body, but his heart as well. In spectacular fashion, something…no, someone…had destroyed his friends, his neighbors, and everyone he had known from birth in one fell swoop. But this time, for the first time - there was no face. Like a coward, the enemy (whoever he was) had sent nature to do his dirty work and then ran off in into the shadows, so Aidan couldn’t inflict his own nature upon him.
What was there to do now?
The village and mountain were completely gone. His people had become one with the soil. His family…his family! That’s right! His father and mother had gone off with his youngest sister, Diana, on an expedition. Like they had done with him when he had turned five, his parents had taken her off of the mountaintop and into the world, to see how there were different kinds of plants and berries and landscapes, far more exotic and lavish than anything they could witness in Quinn, with its rocky terrain and high altitude. But how far had they gone? Did they get caught in the storm? Did they even know what had happened?
Aidan stood and squinted through the thick soot that hung in the air like a mist. It stung his eyes, and they watered so much that he was afraid they would soon go dry. But if he was going to find his family, he had to keep his eyes open in order to see them, and so he bore the pain. Trying to breathe as little as possible, he waved his hands through the fog as he walked, coughing and batting at it like he was pushing aside leaves from within the thickest of rainforests. He kept walking, but where was he headed exactly? He had no way of knowing where his family had gone or if they had even survived. If they had been caught in the firestorm, they would have been reduced to ash and he would never find them.
Aidan stopped to think, closing his eyes to give them some rest. It was eerily silent, and though he doubted anything would come of it, he decided to shout out the name of his little sister. No voice answered him in return, and he stood there shaking, overcome with the unknown. Whether he stayed or went, it was all chance. There were no guarantees to how his life would play out now.
Though the sky was still as red and orange as fire, he could feel a chill starting to crawl up his arms. The heat from the firestorm was passing, and the night frost was beginning to creep back in. He remembered he had put his shirt up into a turban on his head and quickly reached for it, but of course, it was gone, having been obliterated in the chaos. The rest of his clothes as well. Suddenly he longed for the cloak and robe that his father wore daily.
Aidan rubbed his arms and then stopped suddenly when he felt a slight but strange indentation in his skin. He glanced over at his right forearm and saw it with clarity this time.
Tattoo markings. Three of them. One was dark and faded, while the other two were glowing a metallic blue-white color. They were humming both visually and audibly like a beacon, and he tried to wipe them away. They didn’t come off, but the flashing became more rapid, blinking faster and faster. His mind raced to find the answers - the key to this strange branding. Only when he contemplated what had just happened over the last hour did he remember.
The voice.
It had asked him a question. It had asked him…what he wished for, at that moment.
I wish, he thought. I wish that…
And then he wasn’t in the soot anymore. He was in a large circular room. The walls were composed of massive, midnight blue bricks, and a manmade fire the size of his entire body hung upside down in the middle of the ceiling like a chandelier. The floor was of granite, and the same marking that was branded into his arm three times was displayed in the middle of the floor in grand fashion. A sword, with a small, medium and large organ pipe on each side. On top of the center of the colossal marking sat a man, leaning forward on a small wooden stool that was far too short for his long legs. He was wearing a long, dark purple hooded robe, and his head was bowed as if in prayer. Aidan surveyed his surroundings, not sure what to make of them, when he came to a realization.
This man…he could be the one responsible.
Obsidian Sky II available September 30th
An Excerpt From
The Last of the Sages
(Book #1 of the Sage Saga)
The Works of Julius St. Clair (Novel Samplers) Page 5