Rise of the Red Harbinger

by Khalid Uddin

  Baltaszar could no longer look at her, though. The only thing left was to leave. He still remembered leaving through Yasaman’s window that night. He’d left her crying in bed, her blotchy red face buried in her pillows, and Baltaszar did not look back for the duration of his return home.

  That was over a month ago. Why is it still so difficult to accept? The slope of the mountain had reduced markedly as the ground grew more and more even. I have been so lost in my thoughts that I haven’t even noticed I’m almost out of the forest. But why does the thought of her still bother me so much? Was it me who was being selfish? Was our relationship so cumbersome for her that that was really the only way out of it?

  Do we not have more important things to consider?

  Baltaszar had not heard that voice since he made the decision to leave Haedon. Stop talking to me. The mountain was now behind him and the ground no longer rocky. Towering green pine trees still surrounded him, but Baltaszar recognized that the edge of the forest could not be far off.

  You have no one left, wouldn’t you like some company?

  Leave me alone.

  Your mother is gone, your father, the girl, and now your brother. All you have is me.

  Stop. Get out of my head! He’d already believed he was crazy because of the voice, but what angered Baltaszar even more was that he finally realized it was identical to his own.

  Why do you dislike me so much? I could be a great help…

  “I said TO BLOODY LEAVE ME ALONE!” A few birds cawed and hastily fluttered away. After surveying his surroundings, nothing else seemed disturbed by his outburst. “Please, just leave me alone. I have enough problems without you.” Baltaszar stopped walking and tensed, hoping his request was enough to quiet the voice, at least for now. He doubted it would ever leave him for good.

  Baltaszar continued walking. He quietly hummed a song, “Bales in the Summer,” an old farmer’s tune his father had taught him, hoping to stifle any more of the voice’s attempts to speak to him. As the gargantuan pines around him slowly thinned, thoughts of Yasaman grew more frequent and heavy. Why do I keep dwelling on you? I’d rather think of father.

  You continue to dwell on her because she is still alive. There is nothing to do about your father.

  Baltaszar sighed, exhaled heavily, and drooped his shoulders. If you will not listen to my requests to leave me alone, then at least answer one question for me. If you grant me an honest answer, I will at least try to entertain a conversation with you.

  No.

  No, what? Do you not agree to the terms?

  The terms are agreeable. No, you are not crazy, Baltaszar. Was that not your question?

  Then why are you in…

  What bothers you so much about me is that my voice is the same as yours. That is why you refuse to accept me.

  That is part of it, yes. But I would also like to be able to think to myself without being interrupted, without knowing someone else is listening. You are saying that I am not crazy to have another voice in my head, but it shall drive me insane to know that my thoughts cannot be private.

  It is something you will have to grow accustomed to, Baltaszar. I have no intention of leaving you.

  But who ARE you?

  I am a friend if you will trust in me. A guide if you will follow me. A light if you will open your eyes to me.

  But if I am not crazy, then why are you in my head? I do not understand what you are.

  To explain what I am at this juncture would be beyond your comprehension. You would be terrified of me and you would cease to speak to me. It would be beyond the comprehension of most people, to be honest. There are some secrets in this world that people are not ready to accept. You are not ready to hear or see just yet. But I have been in your head longer than you know. Go to the House of Darian first. Once you understand your manifestation, then enlightenment will come.

  Then why only speak now? And what manifestation?

  Because now is when you need guidance. You will learn of your manifestation there, unless it becomes clear before then.

  And I should just trust you then? It was YOU who told me to risk my life to save my father. Why give me guidance if you would have me killed as soon as you appear?

  Are you certain that you would have died? Do you know this for a fact?

  Everyone in Haedon wants me and Bo’az dead. They would have hanged me along with my father if I had tried something. Besides, why would I trust you? That you are in my mind, does not make you trustworthy.

  And how did you know it was not YOU who had those thoughts? Are our voices not the same? How is it you can tell the difference between your thoughts and my voice?

  Because I know what I believe and who I am. I have lived for eighteen years; I know what it is to create a thought!

  You do not know a damned thing, Baltaszar Kontez. Nothing of your mind and nothing of this world. Rhadames Slade tried to guide you, but deep down, you still doubt his words as well.

  “I left Haedon! Is that not enough? Curse you; I thought you wanted to help me! Why can you not just be direct with me? Answer a question without some stupid riddle? If you are going to act like this, then let me be!”

  Baltaszar jumped at the volume of his own shouts. The voice bothered him. Put him on edge physically and mentally. Snapping back to reality, Baltaszar discerned the sun descending and the sky’s pink and purple response to it. He had been walking for longer than he realized, too caught up in a conversation he wasn’t even sure was real.

  Very well. Do this yourself. It is obvious you would not listen to me anyway.

  By the light of Orijin! Thank you!

  With that, Baltaszar stopped at a trio of trees that formed a triangle around him. Numerous grey boulders lay stationed around the trees, providing suitable coverage if he refrained from standing. Baltaszar removed his pack and fished out a loaf of bread. It had grown stale and hard, but he did not find any mold upon inspection. He would just have to break off smaller pieces and drink plenty of water. But even the waterskin was nearly empty. Baltaszar inspected what food remained: only a handful of dried beef strips. He would have to make it to the town that Slade had mentioned by the end of the next day if he didn’t want to starve. I’ll have to wake up early and take very few breaks. Baltaszar tensed, expecting a response from the stranger in his head.

  The ground beneath him was lush with long grass, and very soft. Baltaszar reclined, propped up on one hand while nibbling on the hard bread. The conversation with the voice made him forget about his thoughts and regrets toward Yasaman, and peaked his insecurity instead.

  Baltaszar questioned his decision to leave and fought himself about turning back. Whether it was for Yasaman or his father’s corpse, or for Bo’az and the house and farm he’d grown so comfortable with, he could not tell. From the time he had even begun to have memories, it was his father who’d guided Baltaszar in everything: riding horses, growing crops, devotion to the Orijin and religion, fixing and building things around the house, even general education. Baltaszar never had the opportunity to know his mother, and his relationship with Bo’az had become strained since their father’s sentencing. Baltaszar understood he no longer really had any family. The more he thought on it, the more he regretted allowing Bo’az to leave. Now more than ever they’d needed to stay together. Perhaps that was just another reason for his desire to turn back.

  What am I doing? He had known for weeks that his father would die, but that knowledge did nothing to soften the blow. In truth, if not for Slade, Baltaszar may have turned back with Bo’az. But Slade knew too many things that he shouldn’t have known, especially about the voice. It was too new for anyone else to have known. Slade could have fought me right there in Haedon Square and hurt or killed me. Slade could also have alarmed other people in the town, but he did none of that. It seemed excessive that a man would make up so much nonsense in the middle of the night, simply to lead Baltaszar astray.

  Baltaszar constantly ruminated over the conversation
and always came to the same conclusion. Despite his reluctance to admit the voice in his head was right, he had nothing to lose by listening to Slade. If he’d gone back to Haedon, he’d either have been killed or exiled. And as painful as the thought was, Baltaszar had nobody now. No friends or family. No one to worry about him. No one to be concerned if anything happened to him.

  So you finally agree.

  Shut up.

  At times, the same thoughts also guided him down a darker path. In the few days of walking through the forest, Baltaszar had allowed himself to entertain certain possibilities. What if I just died? What difference would that make to anyone at this point? He was unsure whether that question was directed to himself or to the voice. Either way, Baltaszar got no answer.

  Too often, he would focus so much on the notion that he no longer had anyone, and considered whether there remained anything worthwhile for which to live. My life. My world. It all seems so complicated now. Despite all his thinking, Baltaszar could never quite swallow everything that had happened. Had he been able to stay in Haedon and look after the farm, perhaps he would at least have a purpose. But all that remained was the advice of a man he didn’t know and with whom he’d spoken for less than an hour. Indeed, there were dozens of questions that he wanted answers to, and to die now would do nothing to justify his father’s death.

  But in truth, Baltaszar questioned whether he truly had the capacity to undertake the type of journey that Slade asked of him. He had always believed himself to be brave, but he realized more and more that he could scarcely remember many times throughout his life in which he had acted bravely. His father had taught him that killing oneself was against the laws of the Orijin, and a coward’s actions at that. But what has the Orijin truly given me in this life to make it worthwhile? How much worse would it be to defy Him now?

  Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to make a decision on the matter, Baltaszar lay back and closed his eyes. The day’s events left him physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. As his consciousness melted away into dreams, he came to one conclusion. If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll go through with it. But I won’t go out of my way. The word ‘fool’ whispered in his head.

  ***

  The following morning, Baltaszar awoke while the sun barely glanced over the tree-littered horizon. He had trained himself to wake just before sunrise when he was fifteen. Back then, he would sneak over to Elmer Guff’s farm and steal the best apples, figs, and grapes, and bring them back to his yard before any light interloped the sky.

  Baltaszar arose, stretched off the stiffness of sleep, and slung the packs to his shoulders once more. He planned to refrain from eating for as long as his stomach could hold out, and rely only on water. He walked on, surprisingly calm and clear-minded; and best of all, after walking for four hours, the voice had not spoken once.

  This was his third day trekking through the forest, and Baltaszar finally stepped out into the world beyond the Never. Beyond the forest lay grassland with trees interspersed here and there. The sun grew warmer the further he walked, but he felt comfort in keeping the black cloak on. Slade had told him that it would be just over an hour’s ride to the city of Vandenar once he reached the edge of the forest, but Baltaszar was unfortunately without a horse. That long on horseback meant almost a day on foot.

  Thus far, the journey had been relatively easy. The only difficult part had been when the sky had gone pitch black two days before. The darkness had lasted over a quarter of an hour and all Baltaszar could do was set down until the light returned. He admitted to himself that he’d felt some fear, but mostly because any predator could have hunted him down too easily. Baltaszar could only hope it would not happen again.

  Baltaszar walked faster, excited at the prospect of a town, food, and most importantly, a bed. After an hour, the trees had completely thinned out around him and a river appeared on the horizon. Slade, how could you fail to mention a river? How am I supposed to cross this blasted thing? In Haedon, Baltaszar had never accompanied the fishermen down the mountain to the shores. This was the first time he’d come so close to a body of water. He stepped to the moistened dirt at the edge of the river and kneeled for a closer inspection. He expected the water to be blue and clear, beautiful as it had been described by the fishermen of Haedon. This water, however, was a cloudy brown, which he guessed was from the dirt at the bottom. It cooled his fingers as he dangled them in, so Baltaszar scooped the water in his hands and drank.

  What am I going to do? I can’t even swim. And even if I could, how am I supposed to carry all of this across the water? Hope escaped him. How much more was he supposed to do? There was no way to cross the river. Baltaszar already knew that he would not walk along the bank to find a crossing, as there was none in sight and he lacked the physical and mental energy to search for a way.

  Thoughts flooded his mind again. Father. Yasaman. Bo’az. Haedon. Slade. Those bloody dreams. The thoughts repeated continuously, faster and faster. A rumble formed deep down in his belly and it grew stronger and stronger as it reached his mouth.

  “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Baltaszar roared again and again, surrendering to the catharsis until a burning rawness plagued his throat.

  He lay back and closed his eyes. Should I do it? Is this the opportunity presenting itself? Can I actually go through with this? Hours had passed when Baltaszar arose from the ground; the sun had already begun its descent, and the weight in his mind remained just as overbearing. He was not ready to die yet. And regardless of everything else, Bo’az was hopefully still alive. If not in Haedon, then somewhere else. As long as he had his brother, Baltaszar would continue on.

  Tiny objects dotted the water’s surface in the distance. Boats! They must be boats! Yes! Baltaszar doubted they would see him this far away. He had never even walked in the water, aside from puddles here and there. Now is not the time to be a coward. I need to cross this damn thing, and I need to cross it now.

  Baltaszar took one tentative step in, the cloudy water immediately soaking his leather boot and filling it. Another step. The water chilled both of his feet more than he would have liked, but it was a minor nuisance. He continued. At first too quickly. He slipped and jerked about to regain balance. After several feet, Baltaszar learned his lesson and slowed his pace, testing every step. The water level rose higher up his body, reaching his waist. His cloak clung to him. His steps became half steps. He waved his arms wildly and shouted. “Hey! Over here! Help me!” again and again. “Help! Over here!”

  After yelling and flailing his arms for a few minutes, a nearby boat turned its bow toward him. They turned! They can see me! The boat slowly drew nearer. Well, like I told Bo’az, this could work out good or bad. Hopefully Slade was right and this thing on my face will help. The small boat continued toward him.

  Baltaszar stopped yelling and stood in place. His cloak still clung to his legs. Why is it tighter than before? I haven’t even moved. Baltaszar reached down to pull the cloak away from his body. He felt for the clinging fabric. That…that’s not my cloak. Two long teeth stabbed into his hand, slicing through to the bone. Baltaszar pulled his hand out of the water. A snake? A snake! The serpent’s head still clung to his blood-soaked hand, unable to pull its teeth out. Baltaszar staggered. Must…think. Must…pull…out. He snatched the snake by the neck and pulled. It writhed wildly in his hand, whipping its tail against his body. Too weak. With his remaining strength, Baltaszar yanked at the snake. Its scaly body burst into flames. The head ripped away from his hand, the fangs still in him. The snake’s lifeless body turned to ash and crumbled in his grip.

  How? Father? No. I don’t…under…stand. The boat was less than a hundred yards away. Baltaszar took one step toward it. His foot, which he could no longer feel, gave out beneath him and Baltaszar crashed face first into the water. By the time he had sunk to the riverbed, Baltaszar could no longer feel the rest of his body.

  Chapter 5

  The Prince

  From The Boo
k of Orijin, Verse Ten

  It is in your nature, Mankind, to create,

  destroy, pervert, and explore truth.

  Know that the only truth is in Our word.

  Prince Garrison Brighton had sought truth for the past year of his life. Truth about the Orijin and His followers. About life. About his father, King Edmund, and his father’s decrees for the world, especially the decree that required Garrison to travel through Ashur and hunt down Descendants—people marked with black lines down their left eyes. But the truth was that Garrison was one of those same Descendants bearing a black line on his face.

  There had been too many things Garrison had seen in his travels that had unsettled him. Finally, over a year ago, he’d decided to learn about the world and its history beyond what his father had told him. Unfortunately, Garrison had found more truth about himself than he cared to know.

  One of those unavoidable truths was that Vanna Wynchester, the beautiful girl lying naked in his bed, meant nothing to him.

  “Take me with you,” the girl pleaded, holding the bed sheet tightly around her body. Her chest pressed through the silk and her silky black disheveled hair did more to arouse Garrison than put him off.

  It was easier for Garrison to tell himself that she meant nothing when he wasn’t staring at her smooth petite frame. It was also easier after he was finished sleeping with her. “You know I cannot. The House of Darian would not welcome you. You are not one of them. One of us.” He still lay next to her, but looked away. It was easier to have the conversation this way.

  “You assume they will accept you. They know who you are, Garrison. They know your crimes. Do you really believe that you can simply walk up to the House of Darian and they will welcome you with open arms? Of course, Garrison. That sounds incredibly reasonable! They will see you and say, ‘Prince Garrison, you and your army have killed scores of Descendants, but we will forgive you for that because you are here now and would like to join us.’ How can you be so foolish?”