Rise of the Red Harbinger

by Khalid Uddin

Marshall rolled his eyes. “My word is my bond. Look, although I do not agree with your magic, I would like for the girl to join us. Adria.”

  “And why is that?”

  “If she was able to find me, then perhaps she can find others. It is worth the chance.”

  Marlowe nodded. “I will ask the Mavens if she is available. There are always missions and errands going on.”

  “Mavens. What are these Mavens?”

  “Maven is a title one earns here after achieving a certain excellence in the control of their manifestation, along with a rigorous regiment of study and training. Think of the Mavens as your superiors, your guides, your teachers. They will also report to me about your behavior and progression.”

  “As long as your people do not give me trouble, my behavior shall be of no issue. Do I have your permission to leave, Master Marlowe?”

  Marlowe walked around the desk and waved for Marshall to walk with him to the door. Before opening it, Marlowe turned to face him. “Of course your behavior will be of no issue.” Marlowe squeezed Marshall’s tender shoulder then punched him in the stomach. Marshall doubled over and grimaced. He refused to give Marlowe the satisfaction of making a sound. If his stomach and shoulder hadn’t been injured, Marlowe’s strike wouldn’t have hurt him. He took a few deep breaths then stood erect once more. Marshall said no words, only smiled and then left the room.

  ***

  “We shall leave as soon as all the rest are prepared.” Maven Savaiyon towered over Marshall and Gunnar to the point that Marshall felt awkward sitting down.

  “And when will that be?” Ever since his meeting with Marlowe on the previous day, Marshall had been anxious to be outside the walls of the House of Darian.

  “Have patience. They should be ready soon. All were awoken at sunrise, just as you were. They shall be here shortly.”

  “Who exactly are we waiting for?” Marshall refrained from asking about Adria directly. Just then, the door opened and two boys walked in, of an age with Marshall. The first bore a yellowish complexion with black choppy hair and almond shaped eyes. The second was a few inches taller and olive-skinned, similar to Adria’s, and light brown hair tied back into three rods that protruded from the back of his head. Marshall stifled a chuckle. “Ah, I suppose we were waiting for your hair to be ready?” The boy scowled instantly at Marshall.

  Gunnar, standing next to Savaiyon, spoke up. “Marshall, zis is Desmond and Badalao. Near inseparable, zey are.”

  Marshall made no attempt to rise. “Inseparable? Ohhh, I see.” Marshall smiled. If he would be forced to stay at the House of Darian, he would make the most of it and push as many boundaries as possible. “Yes, we had our own ‘Desmond and Badalao’ back in my village. Fabian and Alden. They were more discreet about it than you two, however. Of course, the only reason I even knew they had a romance was because Alden was my cousin.”

  Desmond and Badalao looked at one another quizzically, and then fired glares at Marshall. Desmond stepped forward and dug a finger into Marshall’s chest. “What did ya just say? Just cuz yer a Taurani an’ Marlowe is givin ya special treatment, don’t think fer a second I won’t lay another beatin’ on ya. Worse than the one ya came here with. Lincan told me ya cheated death when they found ya. I’d really like ta see if ya can cheat it again.”

  Marshall didn’t bother with a clever retort. He grabbed Desmond’s wrist and used the momentum to slam him face-first into the floor. As soon as he’d stood up again, Badalao wrapped an arm around Marshall’s neck, choking him. Marshall ran backward into the wall as Savaiyon and Gunnar bolted out of the way. Badalao’s grip loosened just slightly and Marshall forced his head from the clutch then folded Badalao’s arm behind his back in one swift movement. Marshall tugged Badalao’s arm higher, then whipped Badalao around and slammed his face against the wall. Marshall let go and Badalao fell to his knees. “There. Now when you two kiss each other, you can taste each other’s blood.” As the words left his mouth, something snatched Marshall and held him in the air. He struggled to break free and then looked around him. No one in the room was even close enough to touch him.

  Desmond, the yellow-skinned boy, stared at him and finally spoke. “Ya forgot where ya were, didn’t ya? Sure, yer a good fighter. With yer hands. Bet ya don’t even know how ta use yer manifestation, do ya.”

  Marshall continued to struggle as he hovered a few feet above the floor. “Put me down and fight me fairly, coward.”

  “What’s unfair? I’ve got a mark an’ I see one on yer face, too. Looks perfectly fair ta me. I could kill ya right now without even liftin’ a finger.”

  Savaiyon cut in, “Put him down, Desmond. Marlowe would not condone this and neither do I. Marshall is one of us now.” He looked up at Marshall, “Even if he does not believe it yet.”

  The door opened once more and Adria walked in. Marshall’s cheeks warmed as she looked up at him. “What are you fools doing? I could hear you all from down the hall. I thought you were destroying the room! Put him down! Zin Marlowe was not far behind me! No doubt he is coming to see for himself.”

  Savaiyon echoed her order. “Release him, Desmond. If Marlowe is coming, we should depart now.”

  Desmond wiped blood from his face, “Fine.” As he wiped his hand on his pants, Desmond looked Marshall in the eye. Marshall floated horizontally now, facing the floor. He slowly descended until he hovered nearly three feet above it, and fell suddenly with a thud. Desmond continued, “Doesn’ feel so good, does it.”

  Marshall stood and straightened out his clothes. He turned to Adria and smiled. “Hi.”

  “Save it. Why did you even request that I come with you? I saved you the first time. If there were other survivors, I would have known.”

  Before Marshall could respond, Desmond chimed in with a chuckle, “He asked fer ya to come?” Marshall reddened as Desmond continued, “Look at him, Mouse. He’s blushin’! He doesn’ need yer help! He fancies ya.” Desmond’s chest convulsed as he laughed heartily and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  Badalao cut in, also wiping his nose clean, “Maven Savaiyon, before you make that gateway…should we not arm ourselves before we go? It is one thing to assume there are no survivors, but it would be foolish to assume the attackers are gone.”

  Savaiyon responded, “You’re correct. We’ll go to the armory first.” Savaiyon turned again. A tiny speck of light appeared in the air a few feet in front of Savaiyon. In seconds, the speck expanded into a bright yellow square wide enough for three people to walk through side-by-side and high enough for Savaiyon, who was easily a foot taller than Marshall, to walk through without ducking. Marshall stared for a moment and realized his mouth was hanging open.

  Savaiyon, Adria, and Badalao walked through instantly. Gunnar and Desmond looked at him and laughed. Desmond then patted him on the shoulder, which was still sore, and said, “Yer mouth is about as big as that gateway now. If a gateway surprises ya that much, then yer jaw’ll be hurtin’ by the end o’ today.” Gunnar walked into the bright yellow light and Desmond and Marshall followed.

  They appeared in a large stone room that smelled of oil and mustiness. Weapons of all sorts lined the racks on the walls, including swords, axes, maces, and spears. Marshall nudged Gunnar, “I thought you said that Marlowe doesn’t approve of violence and fighting.”

  “He doesn’t know about zis room.”

  Marshall chuckled at the response as he armed himself with a sword and two daggers. One of his personal rules was to aways have a knife. Taking too many big weapons would only burden him and slow him down.

  ***

  Marshall stepped out of another gateway onto familiar ground. Savaiyon had brought them just outside of Marshall’s village. The sight did little to comfort his already queasy stomach. He couldn’t fathom how Savaiyon would travel this way regularly. Perhaps the effects diminished after getting used to the gateways. The yellow gateway shrunk after they’d all stepped through.

  The stink of char and burnt flesh struck
his nose, bringing back the memory of all the burning houses the day his village was attacked. Marshall covered his nose and mouth and advanced toward the village. Adria walked with him as the others followed. “Do you even have a plan, or are you just going to lead us into this burnt down graveyard without telling us anything?”

  “Why do you have so much anger and aggression toward me?”

  Adria rolled her eyes, “For one, I think you are very arrogant and too stubborn for your own good. You think you are better than us, despite knowing nothing about us. Along with that, you and your people deny your similarities to us despite the proof being on your face. Such foolishness resulted in all this,” she waved her hand at the village. “And lastly, you demanded to come back here after being told more than once that there is nothing remaining here but death. I saved your life once, and even if you were grateful for that, I would still find it pointless to put six of our lives in danger.” Her tone held less anger than Marshall had expected. If anything, it was more logical.

  Marshall stopped and turned to the whole company, “Look, there are three things I want to accomplish here, and then we can leave. I would first like to be sure of whether there are any survivors. Once that has been determined, I would like to give my family members their proper funeral and I will need your help with that. And somehow we need to find my shadow, if that can even be done. As soon as that is finished, we can leave.” He didn’t wait for a response as he turned and continued walking. Since being attacked, Marshall had yet to face the fate of his family. He was not wholeheartedly convinced of their deaths despite what he’d told Aric. It was the obvious assumption to make, but Marshall needed to see for himself.

  When Adria spoke again, annoyance clearly filled her tone, “So it is that easy to you? We will simply determine if there are survivors, tend to your family, and then leave?”

  “What is your problem?”

  “My problem? My problem is that a day ago, you denounced the House of Darian’s way of thinking. The belief system of everyone with whom you now travel. And now you have the nerve to ask us for help? Tell me, rockhead, how do you plan to find out if there are survivors? Will you stop at every single body and examine it for signs of life? Because without our manifestations, which you do not accept, that is exactly what you will be doing.”

  Marshall reddened and stopped just before the edge of the village. She was right. It had eluded him that he was essentially using them to carry out his wishes. A tinge of guilt hung in the back of his mind. Marshall’s anger at Marlowe had clouded his judgment toward the others. “Fine. You are right and I apologize for using you like this. But if you people were not forcing me to be your prisoner, then perhaps I would not have to resort to this. So do not put the blame solely on me.”

  Desmond spoke up, “None o’ us are forcin’ ya ta stay. Truth is, yer forcin’ us ta follow yer wishes.” Badalao and Gunnar nodded in agreement. Savaiyon merely stared at Marshall, as if studying him.

  That makes no sense. “Of course I am forcing this upon you, but that was my agreement with Marlowe. If he and you are going to force me to stay with you and be open-minded to your way of life, then I would be allowed to come back here.”

  Desmond and Badalao both chuckled, confusing Marshall even more. Badalao then responded, “Marlowe is a fool. Why do you think we spar in secret? Marlowe refuses to believe Jahmash will return in this lifetime, or any lifetime in the near future, so he has barred us from developing any fighting and combat skills. Marlowe believes we should spend our days solely in study and that we should know as little of violence as possible. He tells us that because the King and much of the world hate us so, we should be meek. Tell me, Marshall, did you respect every Taurani and believe that each and every one was a good person?”

  Marshall could see Badalao’s point. He responded begrudgingly, “No.”

  Badalao continued, as if already knowing the response before it left Marshall’s lips. “Then why do you assume that all Descendants are bad people? The five of us who accompany you now, we are nothing like Marlowe. If you stay with us, you will quickly see that the House is divided. Broken. But even those who side with Marlowe are becoming the minority. I have been there half a year and that was obvious very early. People barely see Marlowe anymore. He hides in his office or his quarters all day and makes others do everything for him. You ask me, he could rot in Opprobrium…”

  Savaiyon cut in before Badalao could continue. “That is enough. It is one thing to dislike the man. But do not get carried away, Lao. Like it or not, Marlowe is still our headmaster. Focus. You have the facts from Marshall. He is obviously unable to gauge the situation correctly, given his lack of experience with manifestations. What is the plan, Lao?”

  Marshall assumed Savaiyon’s comments regarding him were merely logic and not meant as a jab, so he took no offense. Savaiyon was right, anyway. They understood their manifestations better than Marshall, so it would be foolish for him to lead.

  Badalao thought for a moment and then spoke. “You will be our scout, Maven Savaiyon. You can go ahead and then keep us updated on whether there is any danger. Maven Gunnar and Mouse, you two will work together to search for survivors, given that you are our eyes and ears. Literally. Desmond, Marshall and I will break off and go to Marshall’s family. I will bond Marshall to make the process work better.”

  Marshall perked up. “You will what?”

  Before Marshall could react, Badalao was before him with his hand on Marshall’s head. In a split second, Marshall felt a small tug in his mind, like someone popping a cork from a bottle. The tug continued for a moment and suddenly Marshall felt like his mind had expanded. As if it had opened up and was larger than he’d previously known. Badalao released his hand and smiled. “There. It is done.”

  “What have you done to my mind?”

  “I created a connection to my own. It means that I can enter your mind, read your thoughts, and see things through your eyes. Trust me, it is a useful tool. It is what makes Desmond and me such a lethal duo.”

  “Lethal. Sure. And now I will have you in my head whenever you want? That seems hardly fair.”

  “You do not yet understand the nature of manifestations, which is expected. Using such power takes energy, just as sparring, fighting, or any physical exertion. Instead, you are exercising your brain. Furthermore, my manifestation only works in the daylight.”

  “Oh, wonderful. So you can only invade my mind during the daytime. I find that much more comforting.”

  Badalao playfully punched Marshall’s shoulder and exhaled a laugh through his nose. “Mouse is right. You are a fool. Think of how great of an advantage this would be in battle.” Badalao shook his head in frustration. “Forget it, we can argue about this another time. Let us go, I would rather not spend all day here. It stinks. You all know your responsibilities? Maven Savaiyon? Mouse?”

  Savaiyon nodded. Adria spoke up, “I will look for the shadow while Gunnar and I search for survivors. I have a hunch about where it is anyway. If you need to find us, we will finish where we found Marshall the last time.” Savaiyon stepped through a gateway. Adria and Gunnar walked into the village down the main path.

  Desmond walked on, not waiting for Badalao or Marshall to follow. “Show us ta where yer family would be.”

  Marshall turned and walked in stride with his two companions. Badalao broke the silence as they walked. “So you really know nothing of manifestations? Surely you have one if you bear the Descendant’s Mark.”

  Marshall sighed in frustration. At some point he knew he would have to address the manifestation topic. In truth, his biggest fear was that he would be wrong. If his companions were right, it would shake the foundations of the whole Taurani way of life. “It is true. I know nothing of manifestations. I never have. No Taurani has ever mentioned the notion to me. I have no magical power. I have never seen any of my people practice magic either. We have always believed that that privilege died with the Harbingers.”

  Ba
dalao shook his head in disagreement. “Like I said, I cannot accept that. You bear the Mark. The only reason you, or anyone, would have it on their face is if they’d developed a manifestation. I can believe that you do not know what it is. But I refuse to believe that you do not have one.”

  “And how would I know?” Marshall actually appreciated the conversation. It was the lesser of evils compared to acknowledging all the destruction around him.

  Desmond cut in, “When ya were younger, say between six an’ eight or so, ya woulda felt it through yer body. Manifestations appear fer the first time when those o’ us who have great faith in the Orijin are in a desperate situation an’ genuinely ask Him fer a solution. We recognize somethin’ is happenin’ because we feel the harmony coursin’ through our veins. It’s like there’s a melody in yer blood an’ ya feel more powerful than ya ever have before. That sound familiar?”

  Marshall furrowed his brow. He’d experienced that very thing, but he found difficulty placing exactly when it happened. “I do remember something like that. Vaguely when I was so young but definitely more recently. I…I think that happened the day we were attacked. Aric and I were confronted by their general and we had no way out. I remember closing my eyes and focusing so hard. Praying to the Orijin…and then…the world went…black.”

  Desmond blinked and then stared at him. “That. Was?” He pointed at Marshall.

  “What do you mean?” Marshall felt uneasy at the way Desmond and Badalao stared at him.

  Badalao answered, “If that was you who did that, you put the whole world in darkness for a quarter of an hour. There was confusion everywhere. Some thought it was a Descendant, others Jahmash, and others the Orijin himself.”

  “The whole world?” Marshall searched for reasons for the explanation to be irrational. For it not to make sense. But it pieced together too well for his liking. “Light of Orijin, if this is true, then…then what do I do now? I cannot be here! I am a traitor to my whole people!”

  Badalao brought Marshall back to reality with a squeeze of Marshall’s tender right shoulder. Marshall jumped at the pain, but Badalao didn’t notice. He kept his hand on Marshall’s shoulder as he spoke. “You are no traitor. This is what I meant before. How is it your fault? You prayed to the Orijin and he blessed you with a miraculous ability. How much more of a sign do you need? And look around fool. Where are your people? You are one of us now. Of course you tried to fight us, but we forgive you.” Desmond huffed at the last part of Badalao’s words, though Badalao was smiling. “We’ll get payback for that anyway.”