by Khalid Uddin
“Every time you say something, you put more questions in my head. Manifestation? I am not asking. I am telling you. You have to stay here and explain. Or let me go with you.”
“My only priority was to find you and make sure you would find the House of Darian. Not to bring you with me. To come with me would mean almost sure suffering and death for you. Trust me. There is no time to argue any longer. You will have to begin your journey without me, but I trust you will have success. The mark on your face will grant you certain privileges once you leave this forest.” The statuesque man arose. “Your days as a witless farm boy are over, Baltaszar. Whatever you had planned for your life before meeting me, it cannot be. Our entire world will be at war soon; it is time you removed the veil from your eyes.”
“I hadn’t really planned anything. And now, I’m even less sure, as you’ve given me piss for a story, with barely much of an explanation. It seems my only choice is to leave this place; I will not be welcomed back.” More lights shone through the windows, and voices could be heard above.
“Travel southeast. The only name I can really give you is Marlowe, the Headmaster of the House of Darian, but most people will not recognize that name. Mention Darian or the House of Darian and people will guide you in the right direction, especially with the Descendants’ Mark on your face. Just over a day’s ride southeast of your camp in the forest is the city of Vandenar. Once you are out of the forest, it is about an hour’s ride. Make that your first stop. The people there are generally helpful and respectful toward those of you who have the Mark. Use it to your advantage, but do not overstep your boundaries.”
“Help me pick up my father’s body; I need to bring him with me.”
“Leave him. If you remember anything of your father’s teachings, you know that his body is now just an empty shell. To carry the body would slow you down. To give it a proper burial would set you back at least a day. There is no time to waste. War and death threaten this world, Baltaszar. It is very important for you to reach that House. Promise me you will go there.”
Baltaszar shrugged and deeply exhaled, then nodded. “I will. My word is my bond.” He stood and clapped the mud from his hands. “What is your name?”
“Slade.”
“Slade. Thank you. I hope our paths cross again. You have much more to explain.”
“If you reach your destination you will not need my explanation. Good luck, Baltaszar.” With that, Slade walked toward the buildings surrounding the square and disappeared into an alley toward the north of Haedon. As more and more lights appeared through the windows surrounding the Square, Baltaszar ducked and scampered across it to the narrow roads leading back to the forest. Once again, he sprinted through the mud, sliding and slipping. Guilt poked at the back of his mind about leaving his father’s body behind, but he knew Slade was right.
Shortly, he returned to the camp he and Bo’az had set up. Bo’az was gone, but Baltaszar thought nothing of it. He was probably hunting. Finding the flint and some small branches, he started a small fire and sat down against a thick tree. It was only after he lit the fire that he realized the camp itself was completely dry. It must not have rained this far into the forest.
Baltaszar was exhausted, the night had felt eternal, but he was not ready to sleep. Too many thoughts traversed his mind for him to be at peace. He twisted his mouth and rubbed his beard as he contemplated; it had become a habit as of late. Since they’d begun to hide, he and Bo’az hadn’t shaved.
Thoughts of his father flooded his head first. Baltaszar knew how simple-minded the people of Haedon were, so it was only fitting that his father would be charged with practicing magic. Baltaszar never understood the vendetta toward his father. He had raised Baltaszar and Bo’az to be respectful, humble, and to stay out of trouble and out of other people’s business. The Haedonians’ contempt contradicted everything for which his father stood.
His father had never paid any attention to magic. Baltaszar couldn’t remember his father mentioning it even once in his life.
Fires were connected to the Kontez family for as long as he could remember. According to his father, when Baltaszar and Bo’az were small boys, a great fire had burned down their first home, killed Baltaszar’s mother, and left a black scar down the left side of Baltaszar’s face, a straight black vertical line running down his forehead, intersecting his left eye, and ending just below his cheek.
Bo’az had gotten through the fire unscathed. Baltaszar had always been curious as to why his eye had not been affected by the fire, and why the scar hadn’t felt any different than his unaffected skin. He’d never had the courage to ask his father about it, for fear that it might remind his father too much of his mother’s death. According to Slade though, none of it was true.
Baltaszar had felt scars before. And burns. But none had ever felt like the one on his face. The more he considered Slade’s words, the more they seemed to make sense.
Baltaszar wanted revenge. He wasn’t sure who had made the accusations against his father besides Fallar Bain. But Oran Von was the one who sentenced him. One day, when he was ready, ready to make another man suffer, Baltaszar would avenge his father’s death.
I needed to see all of that. It was the only way I’d be able to avenge his death. As much as the memory will haunt me, it’ll drive me to get back at them. I know it.
You will not do a thing and you know it. You will pretend for now that you are angry and vengeful, but you will get over it and then move on with your life. You and your little craven brother.
Shut up! Stay out of my head! I’m so tired of having to listen to you!
I am part of your mind, fool. But if you ever decide to be a man and avenge your father, I shall talk less.
Talk less now! The last thing I need is an argument with you.
Then stop arguing.
Please, I’m begging you. Let me be, at least for now. Until I can rest.
Very well. Expect my return.
The voice finally stopped. Still, questions littered Baltaszar’s mind. How did that fire start tonight? The fire started from the ground, and nobody was close enough to have started it, even Fallar Bain. I was near enough to the front of the crowd that I would have seen if anyone had thrown a torch. And how did it grow so wild in a downpour like that?
He needed answers. And nobody could give them to him any time soon. Worse yet, if Slade was right. Who is…was…my father? Better yet, who was my mother?
Baltaszar knew he would need to leave the forest to find his answers. He wasn’t sure how long he would have to search or where this “House of Darian” was, but he would gain nothing by remaining in the forest. He and Bo’az hadn’t really discussed what they would do after their father’s death, but this seemed like the best course of action. Without his father or the farm, there was nothing in Haedon for Baltaszar and no reason to stay. His best friend had disappeared over two years ago without a word to anyone. And then there was her. Yasaman. He thought they would have eventually gotten married, but she’d shunned and avoided him since his father had been charged. Yasaman suddenly became busy all the time. She would pretend to sleep when Baltaszar snuck to her window in the middle of the night. She’d hardly spoken to him since his father’s confinement, but Baltaszar didn’t blame her. Her father didn’t know of their relationship and she was deathly afraid of telling him, given the status of Baltaszar’s father in Haedon. She told him as much. And that as long as her father was around, they couldn’t have a real future.
Still, it left a canyon in his gut that he couldn’t fill. He’d hoped that eventually he’d be able to come back for her; that maybe the situation would ease. But he knew better. It was another change in his life that he had no control over and would have to accept, just like with his father.
He wished Slade could have stayed to guide him. Bo’az wasn’t the type to be a leader or mentor. He was immature and paranoid about everything. The voice in Baltaszar’s head didn’t stray too far from the truth. Chances wer
e that Bo’az wouldn’t be willing to do anything about their father. Baltaszar looked up and saw his brother nearing the camp.
“Where were you?”
“I couldn’t sleep; I’ve been walking around for the past few hours. Just trying to clear my head.” Bo’az’s eyes were red and bloodshot, his face pallid from tears.
“You should have come; it was important to be there.”
“For what? To watch him die? You really think he would’ve wanted us to see that?” Bo’az dropped down next to the fire, rubbing his hands together. He had looked as tired as Baltaszar felt. Baltaszar guessed that he must not have gotten any sleep at all.
“He was our father. It would have made it easier for him.”
“And what about for us? He was going to die no matter what. We couldn’t change that, and if we’d tried to, we would have died along with him. Going there would only have put our lives more at risk! We only have each other now, Tasz. We have to do whatever it takes to stay alive. And we have to be safe while doing it.”
“Whatever it takes? Be safe? What does that mean? That you’re just going to stay in the forest for the rest of your life?” Anger grew within him again.
“I don’t know, maybe for a while. It’s not safe for us in Haedon and we can’t trust anyone. We should stay here for at least a couple months before heading back into the town. Maybe then we can sneak back to the farm and hide out there for a little while.”
Coward. You’re driven by fear and nothing else. “Go back there? What, by the light of Orijin, would we do that for? No matter how long we wait, we’ll never be welcome. Anyone who sees us will either kill us or find someone else who’ll kill us. And the farm? The farm will be destroyed by tomorrow, if it hasn’t been already.” Baltaszar stood and walked to look Bo’az directly in the eyes. “We can’t go back and we can’t stay here. We have to leave the mountains and forest and go somewhere else. Somewhere new. Our lives are going to be completely different now; we can’t expect to be able to do the same things as before.”
“You’re saying to leave everything we know? Everything we’ve known our whole lives? For what? You’re even going to leave her behind? You’re an ass to do that, this isn’t her fault.”
“She hasn’t wanted to speak to me or see me since all this started. I’m not leaving her behind because she’s made it clear that she’s not mine to leave. We have to start over now, whether you like it or not.” Baltaszar hung his head, unsure of whom he was trying to convince. “I’m going to rest today, make up for all the sleep I’ve lost in the past few weeks. Tomorrow we’re gone; staying here is not an option. Like you said, we need to stick together and look out for each other.”
“I…I can’t. Tasz, we’ve never been outside of Haedon. We don’t know what the world is like. What if the stories are true and there’s nothing but forest out there? Maybe there’s a reason that father never took us anywhere else. Maybe it’s too dangerous out there for two seventeen year olds who don’t know anything but farming.”
“Bo, if we go back into Haedon we’ll be killed. But if we go in the other direction, there’s a chance things could be better. I’d rather go where at least we have a chance of surviving.” Baltaszar returned to the tree and sat down, then took a deep breath. “Look, I spoke to someone when I went back for father’s body. There’s a town southeast, not far out of the forest. That’s where I’m going once I wake up.”
“Spoke to someone? A town? What are you talking about? There’s nothing out there, Tasz. At least not for us.”
“I’m going to sleep now. You should too. When I wake up later, I’ll wake you and we’ll pack. It’ll be better to leave at night, less chance we’ll be seen.”
Bo’az continued to plead, “Why do you need to get away so bad? What’s so wrong with waiting a little while? And if you swear that everyone in Haedon hates us, why would you trust someone with advice about where to go?”
Baltaszar had hoped he wouldn’t have to explain the whole story, but realized it was only fair to tell him. Maybe it would convince Bo’az to leave now, too. “The man was at our father’s body, searching for us. He knows who we are and he’s not from Haedon. He spoke of things that he shouldn’t have known about, things about us. And he said we have to find a ‘House of Darian,’ that the name Darian would guide us. We have to find Darian.”
“So you want to leave to find something you’ve never heard of, just because a random stranger told you a story?”
“It’s something. I can’t explain why, but I know he’s right. He even told me that this thing on my face isn’t a scar, it’s a special mark. Something about me being a descendant of someone.”
“So you and I are twins, but you have a mark on your face and I don’t. And that means you're a descendant of someone but I am not? You’re a bloody stupid bastard, Tasz. I’m not going. You can go without me. When you wake up, let me sleep, I’m staying here.” Bo’az stretched out, turned away, and closed his eyes. It was clear now he would not give in. He’d always been stubborn as a goat.
Baltaszar decided that when he woke up, he would gather both of their clothes, food, and supplies. Once he was finished, he would wake Bo’az up and threaten to leave with everything, unless he agreed to come along. He gave in to his eyelids, which had been fighting to close for hours now. As he submitted to sleep, he prayed that his dreams would be kind to him. He’d been afraid of what might plague his mind once he drifted off.
***
Baltaszar heard a deafening roar in the forest and began to run. He could not tell whether he was running toward or away from something, but he felt compelled to run. Around him, the blackness conquered his vision. The trees and shrubs clawed, scratched, and ripped the skin from his arms and legs.
Red lights floated in the distance, menacing and welcoming at the same time. Despite his unending flight through the forest, the lights neither grew closer nor diminished. Racing through the jungle, Baltaszar collided into trees, tripped over roots and rocks, and suffered cuts to his limbs, until finally an enormous root caught his foot and sent him hurtling down a slope of dirt and stones. He lay on the ground; face up, his body tangled with the forest floor, his eyes fighting off cloudiness.
Once his eyes triumphed, the dark red spots grew larger until the forest disappeared and he could see nothing but red. The color filled the air. Made it cloudy. Then invaded his eyes, nose, mouth, lungs. The redness burned him from the inside out. Blood oozed from him, black with char. The deafening roar erupted again, louder and louder until it seemed as it was right in front of him. So close that he wasn’t sure if the roar came from him.
Baltaszar awoke in a panic, drenched in sweat, unsure of his surroundings. The multi-colored sky approached dusk, darkness not far off. The dream made no sense, but he remained content to let it stay that way, for now.
Baltaszar arose from the ground, ready to pack the sparse clothes, food, and supplies he and Bo’az had remaining. He turned to Bo’az, only to see that his brother was no longer there. All of his belongings remained, yet Bo’az was nowhere in sight. Baltaszar packed both of their things and waited for Bo’az to return.
Baltaszar organized his pack: clothes at the bottom, then supplies, and then food at the top. He did the same for Bo’az. His only weapon was the curved blade he’d taken from the farm. But it would be enough to scare away anyone trying to steal from them. He hooked the blade to his belt.
Baltaszar sat back under the tree, awaiting Bo’az’s return, and wondering whether any logic existed in anything Bo’az had said. He waited for more than an hour, nothing on his mind except that the sun was more courageous than he, because at least it was moving. He realized the longer he waited, the more likely he would be to continue stalling and put off leaving.
Baltaszar stood up once more, slung the packs around his back, patted the wooden knife handle with his right hand, and realized he was doing the bravest thing he’d ever done in his life. He started walking away from Haedon.
; Chapter 2
Visitors
From The Book of Orijin, Verse Forty-four
O Mankind, We have made you weak and flawed so that you
may strive to be better. Our judgment is not of your faults,
but of your intentions and attempts to overcome your faults.
As his eyes slowly cracked open, Bo’az inspected the area as quietly as he could. He’d slept on his side, using his pack as a pillow, hoping that when he awoke, Baltaszar would still be asleep. Bo’az craned his still stiff neck over his left shoulder to check on his brother. Sure enough, Baltaszar still lay under the tree, fast asleep.
Bo’az had had no plans to join his brother on a foolish quest. He knew Baltaszar would be fine without him. Baltaszar had always managed to be just fine, whatever the situation. Instead, Bo’az would go back to the farm on the eastern outskirts of the town. He could get there in the dark without being noticed. He knew that Baltaszar had a point about others wanting to destroy it, but he couldn’t just assume that it had happened already. Baltaszar had seemed so determined to put the past seventeen years behind him, but Bo’az couldn’t let go of things so easily. After all, that was their house; they’d had so many memories there that Bo’az couldn’t just move on without going back at least one last time.
If the house was destroyed, he would have to figure out another plan. Perhaps he would stay in the forest for a while longer. But if the house was still standing, he would be able to go back in and save some of their things. His father’s tools were still there, along with clothes, food, real beds, and water. Oh how I miss clean water. I haven’t bathed in weeks. He had no problem staying out in the forest if it meant survival, but it made no sense if there was a chance of staying in a house. Baltaszar was too caught up with his adventure of his to even consider the possibility.
He’s so ready to leave. Why? Surely there are some of Father’s things at the house that are worth saving. Everyone thinks I’m the coward, yet I’m the one going back to the house. And how could he be willing to leave her? Yasaman is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and she was willing to stay with him. How could he have messed that up? Even I would have done everything possible to make her happy. It should have been me she fell in love with. Fool.