Rise of the Red Harbinger (24 page)

Garrison and Marika simultaneously shook their heads in refusal and Garrison responded, “Nothing at the moment. But please have someone wake me at sunrise. Preferably the same Cerysian servant to whom I spoke before. Thank you.”

“Very well. I will arrange it. May your sleep be peaceful.”

Garrison could not place the servant’s accent, though he was light-skinned. It sounded similar to the way Galicean’s spoke, yet different. The servant opened his and Marika’s doors then bowed and led Harlan away.

Although Garrison and Marika were alone, Garrison spoke softly to her. “I will wake you in the morning. We will need to be very resourceful about what supplies we take with us. Things that can be useful as weapons as well as defense, protection, and survival. I know we will not have a proper night’s sleep, but we still must be alert and ready for anything once we leave here.”

“Yes, I know. Do not worry, I know how to function in dire situations. I will see you at sunrise.” Marika disappeared into her quarters and shut the door.

Garrison entered his room, which was dimly lit by two candles, one by the bed to his right and the other on a dresser at the opposite end. A large tray of food covered nearly half of the table at the center of the room and as tempting as it was, exhaustion suddenly weighed Garrison so heavily down that he dragged himself over to the bed, kicked off his boots and dropped down like a falling tree trunk. By the time he finished an enormous yawn, his eyelids were so stubborn that they did not reopen until morning.

***

Garrison wondered how long the knocking had been going on as he fought to open his eyes. “Come in,” he managed to groan, hoping it was audible enough for the servant.

A dark-skinned Shivaani man entered the room, his large belly evident despite the loose white robe. “Good morning, sir. You requested to be awoken at sunrise.” His accent was similar to Garrison’s Cerysian style, but less pronounced.

Garrison was still shaking off the sleep. “I did. But you are not the servant I spoke with yesterday. I requested for him to wake me.”

“I apologize if you are offended at my presence, sir. The one you speak of is currently aiding a Blind Woman with her breakfast. He will be arriving to your quarters shortly, but he asked me to wake you in his absence.”

Garrison felt slightly guilty. He had a habit of speaking too sharply to Shivaani. It was one of the few traits that he had inherited from his father. The King disliked many things, but utterly hated the Shivaani. During the rule of Garrison’s great grandfather, King Waylon, Shivaana had still been a part of Cerysia, but threatened a civil war if the King did not lower the taxes of their region. All of the cities from Gansishoor and southward were taxed more by the Throne because they attracted thousands upon thousands of travelers year-round. Shivaani cities were still extremely popular because of their markets, fashion, snake charmers, exotic animal fights, and of course, Daughters of Tahlia, the entrancing dancers in Sundari. Gamblers also flocked to Sundari to bet on all types of rare beasts such as Bhujanga, giant snakes found only in the mountains between Shivaana and Fangh-Haan, Ranza cats, and extremely rare Vrschiika which were enormous insect like beasts with six legs, giant claws, venomous tails, and skin strong as steel that could change its color according to its surroundings. Garrison had never actually seen one, but enough people, Shivaani and otherwise, had marveled at the sheer viciousness of Vrschiika in the fights that he was unsure of whether he really wanted to.

Supposedly, the Shivaani had massacred the King’s army with its ability to command all of these animals. Deep down, Garrison understood that they had been treated unfairly, but he still resented the reality that so many of his countrymen were slaughtered. Garrison looked once again at the servant in his room. None of what had happened in the past was this man’s fault. And even if the servant had previously favored one side or the other, he’d given up that allegiance when agreeing to be a Servant of the Blind.

The harsh truth that Garrison had so much difficulty coming to terms with was that he was the biggest hypocrite he’d likely ever know in his life. He could think as lowly as he’d like about his father, but at least his father was consistent in how he mistreated everyone. As for Garrison, in his eighteen years, he had been a follower of someone else’s ideals for sixteen of them. It was a painful reality to have to swallow.

Garrison recovered his senses and sat up in bed. “I apologize for sounding so brash. You caught me somewhat by surprise. You have no need for an apology, the offense is mine.”

“It is nothing, sir. I understand that certain…prejudices…are difficult to shed. The most difficult part of my servant training was to let go of the same resentments that you feel. And since I’ve become free of such emotional burdens, my life has become so much brighter. Perhaps you should try to let go as well.”

“That is good advice. Perhaps I should.”

“Is there anything I might bring you? Would you prefer that I bring you food or would you like to eat in one of the common rooms?”

“I will eat in here while I wait for the other servant to arrive. Would you mind bringing food for two? I will ask Marika to join me.”

“Very well, sir. What would you like for me to bring?”

“I am rather partial to ham, eggs, and rice for breakfast, if you have it. Unless it would be an inconvenience?”

The servant looked up confusedly, as if he’d never heard of such a thing before. “I’m sure that could be arranged. Shall I bring the same for Marika?”

“I do not really know what she prefers.”

“That is no trouble. I will inquire with her upon leaving here. Do you think it would be appropriate to wake her?”

“Yes, that would be fine. I planned to do that once I awoke anyway. It would be better to ask her preference. Thank you.”

As the servant turned to leave, another servant entered the room. It was the Cerysian man Garrison had met the night before. “Good morning, Garrison. I trust your sleep was enjoyable?”

Garrison walked over to the window. The sky was empty of clouds, allowing him to see the sun clearly. It was almost completely over the horizon. “I slept wonderfully. I must have blacked out the moment my head fell into the pillow.”

Marika entered the room, but to Garrison’s surprise, she wore only a long thick white robe tied at the waist. She sat down at the table in the center and looked over to Garrison, who still stared at her. “What boy? Is it so ridiculous to you that I act as a normal woman? First I am not allowed to eat; now I must wear armor at all times?”

Garrison panicked. “No it is not that. Just…well...”

“Out with it, child. You clearly have your judgments about me. Tell me why you have such issues.” The servant sat down at the table, joining Marika’s gaze at Garrison.

Why must women always be so difficult?
“I was never judging you about anything. I was simply surprised about certain things. About the pastries, I was taken aback because you are rather…small. I did not think you were capable of eating so many.” Marika frowned at that. Garrison often caught himself saying the wrong thing to women. On too many occasions back at home, Vanna had become cross with him for the same reason. “I do not mean that in a bad way. But…well the robe. When you wore your armor, you looked deadly. Dangerous. Now, you look so…I do not know…regal? Even with the tattoos on your face, you look so much…softer.” Marika pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

Garrison swore that the servant was holding back a laugh. Whether that was truly the case or not, the servant’s countenance changed to solemnity. “Concerning your departure, Garrison, I have some news. After our conversation in the evening, I took the liberty of speaking to some servants who had returned from Gangjeon earlier in the day. They confirmed that a battalion of the King’s soldiers are there questioning the townsfolk. They also said there are scores of them, Garrison. Easily over one hundred.”

Garrison cut in, “And once they realize we are not hiding there, at least some of them will move on. Likely along the path that we plan to follow. Thank you. We must act quickly. Let us see your supplies instead of sitting here to wait for breakfast.”

The servant arose. “Exactly what types of supplies would you like me to show you, Garrison?”

“The kitchen supplies would be best. Will it be inconvenient for us to go there?”

“Not at all. I will bring you and give instructions that you are allowed to take what you need. Simply tell the kitchen servants what you request and they shall deliver it up here to your quarters. I imagine you will need packs with which to carry everything.” Garrison nodded in affirmation. “Very well. It shall be done.”

Marika stood from the table, holding her robe tightly around her, as if wary of Garrison looking at her. “Perhaps you could also have Kavon and Yorik meet us outside? It would save time to have them down there already.”

“Yes, that will be arranged. Would you like to change first, my lady?”

Marika nodded then smirked at Garrison and returned to her chambers.

***

Garrison and the three Taurani had managed to board a small boat southwest toward Mireya in less than half an hour of collecting their supplies. They’d gathered various items at Garrison’s request, such as cooking oil and fat, a collection of knives, nearly a dozen broomsticks, which Marika was sharpening at the moment, and chopped up small animal parts. They had three packs and each of them would carry one except Kavon, whose ribs were badly bruised and likely broken. Standing straight, Kavon was more than a hand taller than Garrison, but the pain forced him to hunch, even when sitting.

From the bow of the deck, Garrison could still see the other boat they’d sent to Gangjeon. He was starting to doubt its effectiveness. The servant had told him earlier that a boat had returned from Gangjeon yesterday, leaving Garrison to wonder how often the Tower sent boats there.
What if they think nothing of that boat?
One of the servants on the decoy boat resembled Garrison in build and had a cleanly shaved head. The hope was that, from afar, scouts would mistake the servant for Garrison and wait to ambush him at the docks of Gangjeon.

Garrison was sure the soldiers would not attack from far away, as they would have to be certain of his death and return his body to Alvadon. If all of that went according to plan, Garrison and the Taurani would be far ahead by the time the soldiers realized that they’d been tricked.

It would take hours to reach the shore, but there would be no docks. Garrison and the Taurani would have to ride their horses off of the boat and into shallow water. The servants had specifically chosen four horses that would not get skittish walking through deep water.

“The spears are done,” Marika informed him. Garrison had been so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear her walk up behind him. “Is there anything else you would suggest we do to prepare?”

Garrison turned and shrugged his shoulders, “Pray. I believe that is all we can do at this point.”

Marika smiled at him sympathetically. “As long as Kavon, Yorik, and I are with you, Garrison, we will do everything we can to ensure you reach your people.”

Garrison smirked, “Ha. My people. Two days ago, my people were to the north and not hunting me down. Funny how life can change so quickly. How it can be so delicate.”

Marika walked up next to Garrison and stared out toward the sea. “You do not have to tell me, child. Only a few days ago, my people were all alive. Now there is nothing left.”

Garrison turned back toward the sea. “What will you do now? Is there any hope for the Taurani? I do not mean to overstep my boundaries…but, well, I understand that you and Yorik are siblings. But couldn’t you and Kavon…well, extend the Taurani legacy?”

Marika laughed heartily. “Ah, thank you for the laugh, Garrison. That was very…genuine of you. I am too old to be birthing children and raising babies. Once we see you safely to the House of Darian, we will sail around Ashur to its eastern shores. Yorik and I believe there may be some hope there to help rebuild the Taurani. And sailing will at least keep us safe, instead of risking conflicts with soldiers. After that, we shall return to our village in the hopes that there are other survivors. But let us focus on the present. Perhaps you are right. The best thing right now is to pray.”

Garrison nodded. “I do not mean to offend, but I would prefer to be alone up here until we reach shore. It is not personal; I just have a great deal on my mind.”

“Of course, boy. Of course.” Marika turned and patted his should as she walked away.

For the next hour and a half, Garrison stood at the bow, and stared straight ahead. His only movement was fingering the pouches of colored dust in the pockets of a brown cloak the servants had given him. Garrison silently asked the Orijin to allow him and the Taurani to all reach the end of their journeys safely. In his head, he repeated the same request continually until the words echoed on beyond his will.

The time for praying had finished. He needed to steel his resolve and become the same cold, stoic warrior he had been so many times when he’d hunted down Descendants with his father’s soldiers. It had been more than a year since he’d killed a man, but Garrison remembered vividly the feeling of looking at a man with nothing but hatred. Not caring whether the man was a good man or bad, whether or not the man had a family, or whether the man was ready to die or not. Garrison found it difficult to regain that frame of mind, but he was confident that it would return once he was in the face of adversity. If it didn’t he would never make it to the House.