Rise of the Red Harbinger (4 page)

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 were 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.

Bo’az realized he would have to leave his things at the camp in order to get away without waking Baltaszar. He’d hoped Baltaszar wouldn’t take any of his clothes or food, but he had to take the chance if he wanted to get back to the farm. If he was still there when his brother woke, they would only end up fighting and arguing again, and neither of them would get anywhere. If Baltaszar wanted to go farther into the forest and wander around, Bo’az wouldn’t stop him.

Evening had set in, and the sky continued to darken. Before setting off, Bo’az grabbed his black hooded cloak out of his pack and pulled it over his head. It was just like Baltaszar’s, a full length woolen cloak with pockets at the waist, in the sleeves, and lining the insides; thick enough for the cool mountain nights.

As Bo’az walked through the forest toward Haedon, he remembered how they’d made the cloaks once Oran Van confined their father to the property. Even though he and his brother were still allowed to leave their farm, they preferred to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Most townspeople glared at them, cursed, or were even brave enough to throw rocks, apples, bread, or any other handy projectiles at them.

In truth, Bo’az had used his cloak often to sneak away from his brother and father as well. Often, he felt the need to be alone and think about what the future held for them.

After the incident with the Samson girl, Bo’az had a feeling that the three of them would be in for a lot of change. His father, on too many occasions, would sit staring off into nothing. Then, once he’d snapped out of his daze, he’d forget what he’d been doing. His father just seemed sad all the time, as if he’d been holding in more problems and emotions than a human body could contain.

Baltaszar, on the other hand, rarely showed any emotion. Bo’az could never really tell whether their father’s conviction and house arrest bothered him, or if he was just holding it all in. Baltaszar never talked about any of it unless Bo’az brought it up first.

Bo’az had always supposed that Baltaszar talked to Yasaman about his thoughts. They’d been together since just after Carys Joben’s kitchen burned down. Baltaszar would go off to see her nearly every day, sometimes not returning until nearly sunrise. Supposedly, her father hadn’t approved of Baltaszar, but Baltaszar always managed to sneak into her bedroom once her parents fell asleep. It only made sense that Baltaszar would have confided everything in her, which made it stranger still when she stopped talking to him. But that was just another thing that Baltaszar never talked about.
I would’ve made it work, even if her father didn’t approve.

Bo’az wished he and Baltaszar had talked more, especially with everything they’d been through in the past few years. After the incident at the Joben home, he’d obviously lost his chance to be with Lea Joben. It also ruined the chance to marry any woman in Haedon.
Why wasn’t Yasaman afraid to be with Baltaszar? Maybe she was, and that was why she left him. Or maybe he just did something stupid to anger her.
Despite all those hours he’d run off to think about things by himself, Bo’az still had no idea about what to do now. His home seemed like a good start.

As he walked on in the dark, Bo’az could see the forest beginning to thin out. He could decipher faint torches outside people’s homes at the edge of the woods. It was early enough that people might be awake, so he’d have to be careful walking to the farm. Stepping out from the trees, Bo’az turned right and headed to the eastern edge of Haedon. He would walk the perimeter of Elmer Guff’s farm to get to his own, which didn’t figure to be a problem considering that Guff was too old to be out at this time. He was probably asleep. Guff was a quiet, meek man who kept to himself. Age had been getting the best of him the past few years, but he refused to give up the farm to move to any of his children’s houses. Three of his sons and two grandsons would come over every morning to take care of the farm animals and any chores that needed to be done.

Bo’az stayed along the high wooden fence around the farm to make himself less visible, careful with every footstep not to wake the sheep and horses that slept in the stables and pens. No one would be walking this way, as it was the outermost part of the town, but there was no need to take any chances. He turned left at the southeastern corner on the shorter side of the farm, where two giant oaks stood side by side to mark the edge of Haedon. There were farms to his left, forest and mountains to his right, mud beneath his feet, and silence everywhere. After close to another quarter mile of grass and mud, Bo’az could finally see the edges of his own farm.

Bo’az hadn’t realized it had rained so badly last night. It soaked everything. The path had turned to a thick layer of mud. Every time he took a step, his feet were sucked into the ground and he would have to pull them out, resulting in a loud ‘pop’ and splash. From the fence, Bo’az could see the horse stables he’d tended for so many years. The fence consisted of three horizontal wooden beams in each segment, supported by thick wooden posts driven deep into the ground, and tall enough so that no horse could jump over it. This also made it easy to climb over or through. As Bo’az climbed the beams and flung himself over, a thought struck him. The only good thing about the accusations against his father was that everyone was afraid of the Kontez family. That was most likely the only reason people didn’t sneak on the farm to terrorize them and cause trouble.

He could see in the distance that the house still stood, and it seemed intact from what he could tell. Bo’az hesitated.
I wanted so badly to come back here. So why am I so afraid to go in? Orijin, I beg you, please don’t let there be anyone in the house.
He ran as fast as the mud would allow. The splashing and sloshing awoke the few remaining horses, but he chanced it that that wouldn’t be enough to alarm anyone nearby. Racing faster and faster, he slid to the front of the house, his arms flailing wildly to keep him upright. Bo’az skidded to a halt right in front of the three steps that led up the porch and to the front door.

Bo’az held his breath as he opened the creaky wooden front door. Pitch blackness completely covered the room. He walked cautiously, leading with his left hand. He could navigate the entire house from memory, but that was assuming everything was where it was supposed to be. He had snuck off enough that returning home in the dark had become a habit. The front room was where his father would relax after working all day, on the cushioned wooden rocker he’d made himself, smoking his pipe or reading a book. Or just sitting there.

Bo’az saw it all in his mind as he felt his way through the blackness. He walked toward the doorway at the back of the room, dragging his hand along the sofa on his right. It seemed that the house remained untouched. He opened the door at the back of the room and walked up the stairs. Some of them had been creaky from years of Baltaszar and him running up and down, and he knew which ones to skip. He climbed the stairs cautiously and quietly, yet didn’t know why. The same gut feeling also made him refrain from lighting candles or torches. He skipped the top step, the loudest one, and stepped onto the second floor, where their bedrooms were.

Baltaszar’s room lay directly in front of him, the door wide open. He glanced at it and thought he heard the slightest whisper from inside. Bo’az stepped into the doorway and darted his eyes around for any human shadows in the light from the windows.
Nothing. Silence. It was most likely the wind.
He left the room and continued toward his own bedroom, next to Baltaszar’s.

Bo’az turned the knob and cracked open the door, wary that someone might be waiting or watching. Peering into the room, he ensured he was safe, and walked in. The moonlight’s glow through the window helped him see the entire room.
No one. Just silence.
Bo’az walked to the side of his bed and sat at its edge, then removed his cloak and kicked off his boots. It had been so long since he’d felt something so comfortable. Remembering that he’d left his belongings in the forest, he walked to his closet on the other side of the room to find some new clothes to change into.

He buried his head in the closet to find clean pants and shirts and felt something grasp his shoulder. Bo’az sprang violently, crashing into the shelf above him. He doubled over in pain, swaying in a daze. The pain in his head throbbed so that he almost couldn’t hear the voice behind him.

“I’m sorry,” the voice said softly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

That voice. Familiar
. It was so unexpected that he doubted he’d heard correctly. Bo’az slowly straightened himself to see the voice’s owner, still in a daze. But before he could lift his head, a hand cupped the nape of his neck and pulled him forward. Soft, moist lips met his and kissed him passionately.
Yasaman.
It’s Yasaman! And she’s kissing me!
A second hand reached around him and pulled his body closer. After what seemed like hours, Bo’az forced himself to pull away, finally realizing that he’d been kissing back, and stared at her.
She’s so beautiful.

A hint of horror tinged her countenance. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry Bo, I thought you were Tasz!”

What? No, that’s not fair.
“I am Tasz!”
Wait, what am I saying?

“Bo’az, I can tell the difference between the two of you. It isn’t difficult, considering there’s no black scar running down your face.”

No. If she doesn’t want Bo’az, then I can be Baltaszar. Why is he the only one who gets to be happy?
“No. No, really. The scar has been gone for weeks. I don’t know how, but it went away.”
He’s not coming back. He’ll never see her again anyway.

She sat on the bed with a sigh. “How? How does a scar like that just disappear? You’ve had the thing for as long as I’ve known you. Something like that doesn’t just disappear! Bo, if this is some stupid trick, please stop now. We don’t have the time for it, and I’m too tired to argue.”

“Trust me, Yas. It’s me, Baltaszar. Really. I left Bo back in the forest. He was too afraid of being caught to come back here.”
Work. Please work.
“I don’t know why or how the scar is gone, but over the past few weeks, it just faded away.”

“Fine. But if you’re lying, I’ll make sure that there’s no way to confuse the two of you ever again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ll kill you.”

“Oh. Um, sure.”
Oh God, what’ve I done?

“And where have you and Bo’az been? No one has seen you two in weeks! I thought you both ran off to get as far away from here as possible! I only came here because I’d prayed to Orijin that there was a remote chance you might come back after last night.”

“We’re staying in the forest south of the village, a couple miles into it so no one will spot us. It wasn’t safe for you to come here, though.”

“Look, my parents don’t know I’m here. By morning though, they’ll realize that I’m gone, and I’m sure this is the first place they’ll look. I needed to see you,” she said. “I felt so horrible pushing you away, but it wasn’t my choice. They forced me to do it! They threatened to marry me off to Garrick Mol right away if I didn’t!”