Rise of the Red Harbinger (45 page)

“I willingly sacrificed all of that. I have even killed my own men to stand up for what I realized too late in my life was right. I threw a helmet at my father while he sat in his throne. I abandoned my brother and my best friend and left them to form an army that would defy my father. I fought alongside Taurani to kill my own soldiers. I stayed in the Tower of the Blind and worked with Taurani and the Blind to deceive the King’s men.”

This time, Roland held up his palm. “All right, I see your point, boy. That is enough. More than enough. I may need some help from Vasher in convincing the others, but I think that you have a solid argument. I am curious though, you were in the Tower. Did they share any prophecies with you?”

“Only one. I did not really know what to make of it, as it seemed rather outlandish and cryptic. It was about Jahmash’s return. Something about a night of fire and water. A man was being killed in the middle of a town called Haedon. It was a tremendous rainfall but a fire broke out. They told me that this occurrence would signal Jahmash’s return.”

A Descendant came running over from down the corridor, with two small balls of fire hovering in front of him the whole way. The boy grabbed the bars to Garrison’s cell with one hand while the two fireballs hovered on each side at eye level, “What did you say about Haedon? About the man being killed in the middle of town?” He was of an age with Garrison; his complexion placed him as Shivaani, though his accent contradicted that.

Garrison eyed him suspiciously. He must have been listening to them the entire time. “Excuse me. Who are you?”

The brown-skinned Descendant’s mouth worked faster than his words could come out. “My name is Baltaszar Kontez. I am from Haedon. Did you not just say that name?”

“Why are you listening to our conversation?”

“I apologize. This is my first day of dungeon responsibilities. I did not know how else to pass the time, aside from honing my manifestation.” Baltaszar nodded to the fireballs.

Garrison had not expected an apology, and lightened his manner after a moment. “A Blind Man shared a prophecy with me that a night of fire and water in the town of Haedon would mark Jahmash’s return. And now you claim that you are from Haedon. Where exactly is this place?” Roland turned to Baltaszar as well, waiting expectantly.

Baltaszar rubbed his temples with both of his hands. “Haedon is a mountain village a few days into the Never up north. Just north of Vandenar, across the river. You said a night of fire and water. That was just over three months ago. I remember it well because it was the night my father was hanged. It was the same night that I left Haedon to come here.” Baltaszar took a deep breath and looked back and forth at Garrison and Roland incredulously. “The Blind Men’s prophecies are always true, correct?” Garrison nodded at him. “Then all of this is real. It’s all true. Jahmash is coming. Truthfully, according to your prophecy, his return started months ago.

“What do we do now? I mean, should we not do something? Tell Marlowe or someone else that this is the case? This…this is a huge bloody deal!” Baltaszar stepped back toward the corridor wall and leaned back, breathing heavily. Roland looked at Garrison; his right eye twitched rapidly, and hurried away. Baltaszar slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground and continued to breathe loudly.

Garrison sat back down as well. “He is likely off to report this to Zin Marlowe.”

Baltaszar half-smiled and then looked around suspiciously. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Marlowe has done nothing to prepare us for Jahmash. We cannot learn combat. We are not allowed to use our manifestations for violence. All we do is learn about history and the world. Sure, those things are interesting, but they are not practical when a Harbinger wants to kill you.”

Garrison eyed him suspiciously once more. “Tell me something. Do you know who I am?”

Baltaszar twisted his mouth and shook his head. “No. Why? You are a Descendant, so you cannot be that bad, right? I figure you’re in here because you refused to follow Marlowe’s directives or maybe you broke one of his rules.”

“Before that one night, had you ever left Haedon before?” Baltaszar shook his head to refute once more. “Now I understand. You lived in the middle of the forest for your entire life. You never learned about the rest of Ashur? Why did your people hide away in the forest then?”

“I never even knew there was a rest of Ashur until I left. Never really put much thought into it, to be honest with you. As to why? I am still trying to investigate all of the details about that myself. However, Marlowe will not let me leave until I have finished reading
The Book of Orijin
. I have a few dozen pages left. And should I know who you are? Marlowe instructed me to not interact with the prisoners and to ask no questions. But then you were talking about that prophecy and it was too important to simply stand over there and stay quiet.”

“I am Garrison Brighton. Former Prince of Ashur and now prisoner of the House of Darian. My father, the King, raised me to hate Descendants, despite the Mark on my face, and so for many years, I led battalions to hunt down and kill Descendants. At a certain point, I started to wonder about why I was killing others with the same Mark that I bear, so I educated myself about the Orijin and the Harbingers. The more I learned, the more I realized that my actions were wrong, and over time, I stopped my hunts and finally renounced my future throne. My father made me a criminal in my own country, so I fled to here, where they also viewed me as a criminal for killing scores of Descendants. And that is why I am in here. You obviously knew none of that, which is why you did not judge me, nor did you hesitate to speak to me. Even my uncle thinly hides his disgust for me.”

“I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you, nor have I heard of you. It would be silly for me to judge you just because you are in that cell. Especially after having spoken to Marlowe a few times and having seen how he treats us. I am not saying that I completely trust you–you are a prisoner, after all. But there is no reason for me to disrespect you. Ashur is still new to me, as is the House. I think that if I was to go around making assumptions about everyone, it would be nearly impossible to find a place in this world.”

“Do you plan to stay here or eventually return to Haedon?”

“There is not much for me in Haedon. I will return the first chance I get, but only to see a girl. She has likely forgotten about me by now, but I can’t say the same for myself. I need to put my mind at ease about whether there is still hope for us.”

“Aside from your father, you have no family there?”

“My mother…died…or was kidnapped–when I was a baby. My twin brother and I went separate ways when we left Haedon. He stubbornly wanted to return to Haedon, though I hope he was not so foolish. They would have killed him if he had. So when I do return, I hope that no one there has any news of him. That would give me the most hope that he is alive.”

Garrison waited thoughtfully before answering; too many times in his life, he ignored the struggles that others lived with regularly. He realized more and more, each day that he sat in the cell, that on every one of his missions, he’d seen hundreds of people living as poorly as he currently was, except that they were free and could not afford any luxuries. Because of his father’s taxes, none of those people would ever live comfortably. That was why so many of them would ignore him, spit at him, or turn their heads away whenever he and his company rode by. He had always ignored it, and until recently, thought he was being noble by restricting his men from killing them or apprehending them. In retrospect, many of those people would probably have welcomed death over the daily suffering they faced. He looked at Baltaszar once more. “Your father, why…” before Garrison could finish his sentence, Baltaszar tapped on the line intersecting his left eye.

“Haedonians do not know about Descendants or manifestations or the House of Darian. I never even knew about manifestations or that I had one until days after I left Haedon. Mine is that I can control fire. But nobody told me that throughout my whole childhood. So for years and years, accidents would happen every now and then like burning down a store or a house, and it was always blamed on my father. Not long ago, one of the fires killed a girl and my father took the fall. The whole town thought he was doing dark magic or something. He died for me and all we had to do the whole time was leave Headon. And since he was branded a criminal, Bo’az and I were ostracized as well. Our chancellor never came out and called us criminals, but the rest of Haedon didn’t need him to. So we fled on our own. After our father was killed, there was no point in going back.”

“Except for the girl?”

“Her name is Yasaman. You don’t understand. I have seen and encountered many women on my journey down here and I have yet to see one that compares to her beauty. She turned me away, I think because after my father was sentenced to death, she was afraid to be associated with me. That, and her parents did not approve. But we had love. We had passion, humor, everything. I would have married her. Had children and grandchildren with her. And if there is a chance that she still feels the same, then I have to know. The only way I can move on from her is if she tells me that that is not possible.”

“You sound rather matter-of-fact about moving on.”

Baltaszar half-smiled. “I don’t mean to. I just know that there is a possibility that I’ll have to. Since leaving my home, I have come to realize that the easiest way to handle life is to mentally prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. And have no expectation of any person or situation. Expectations breed disappointment.”

Garrison contemplated for a moment once more. Looking at Baltaszar, he saw an unassuming boy. But that ‘boy’ possessed a wealth more wisdom than he let on. Despite all his former wealth and luxury, Garrison realized he and Baltaszar were strikingly similar in spite of their vastly different backgrounds. Neither of them knew much of how the world worked. At least Baltaszar had had an excuse. Garrison had likely seen more of the world than anyone else in Ashur, but in the past several months, he realized that he barely knew anything about Ashur.

Just as Garrison raised his head to ask Baltaszar about Haedon, another Descendant rushed down the hallway.

***

Marshall grew suspicious at how empty the dungeon seemed. Maven Maximillian hadn’t sounded as if he was exaggerating when he gave Marshall such a foreboding warning. No one guarded the entrance. No sentries at the top or bottom of the staircases. He’d run through three corridors and finally he found a single Descendant–Baltaszar of all people–slouched against the wall, sitting and talking to a prisoner, who he now realized was another Descendant.

“Tasz? What are you doing down here? And where is everyone?”

“Marlowe just appointed me to the dungeon today. I think he felt like it was a favor since I played peacekeeper between you and Reverron. He wasn’t even angry about the burnt grass–then again, your friend Maven Maximillian was furious.”

“Why are you the only one in the dungeon, though? And why are you so casually talking to a prisoner? Maven Max seemed quite adamant that things were run very strictly down here. I truthfully just walked right in here and had free rein.”

“Both of your questions lead to the same answer. I was stationed toward that end of the corridor,” Baltaszar nodded down the hallway. “I heard Garrison here talking about my village to another Descendant. It had to do with a prophecy about Jahmash’s return. Turns out Jahmash has been active for a few months now and could likely strike at any time. That was what sent the other Descendant running. I imagine the others followed, then. So much for discretion.”

Marshall froze for a few moments, then swiveled his head back and forth between Baltaszar and the prisoner. “Now I understand why your disposition is such.” Marshall sat down next to Baltaszar and leaned back against the wall. He looked Garrison directly in the eye. “I presume you are
the
Garrison? As in the Prince of Ashur?”

Garrison closed his eyes and nodded his head. After a few more moments of silence, Garrison responded, his annoyed countenance clearly expecting more questions. “Is that all? Do you have any other questions or are you just going to sit there?”

“Sometimes I sit. Sometimes I like to sit down and think. This is one of those times where the latter is necessary. I have heard of your crimes, even so deep in the forest, gossip reaches the Taurani village.” Garrison trembled and attempted to speak, but Marshall cut him off. “You are not dead. Which means that they did not capture you. Your crimes are against more than just man. You have spit on the very foundations of everything the Orijin has created. Despite Marlowe’s utter hatred for violence or aggression in any form, I have to believe that if anyone here encountered you outside of these walls, they would have killed you. So you came here on your own. I suppose wealth and royalty do not guarantee intelligence? And even Marlowe is not powerful enough to protect you from the masses here that would rightfully hate you. Scorn you. Despise you. So either your being here is a secret. Or you are being protected by others besides Marlowe. Or both.”

Garrison stood up and crossed his arms in front of him. “I meant to employ diplomacy with you before you cut me off. But apparently you think you know everything about me and my situation. You claim that you are Taurani, but you look nothing like one. And no Taurani would step foot into the House of Darian, much less side with Descendants.” This time, Marshall attempted a retort but was shut down as Garrison raised his voice. “Listen to what I am saying, Taurani. Because you have much to learn, despite what you think you know. I left my nation and family, renounced my throne, and killed my own people to come here. I am no prince now. You are right, my uncle protects me here because he knows that I am genuine in having changed from my old ways.