Rise of the Red Harbinger Read Online Free PDF Page A

Baltaszar’s face, a straight black vertical line running down his forehead, intersecting his left eye, and ending just below his cheek.
    Bo’az had gotten through the fire unscathed. Baltaszar had always been curious as to why his eye had not been affected by the fire, and why the scar hadn’t felt any different than his unaffected skin. He’d never had the courage to ask his father about it, for fear that it might remind his father too much of his mother’s death. According to Slade though, none of it was true.
    Baltaszar had felt scars before. And burns. But none had ever felt like the one on his face. The more he considered Slade’s words, the more they seemed to make sense.
    Baltaszar wanted revenge. He wasn’t sure who had made the accusations against his father besides Fallar Bain. But Oran Von was the one who sentenced him. One day, when he was ready, ready to make another man suffer, Baltaszar would avenge his father’s death.
    I needed to see all of that. It was the only way I’d be able to avenge his death. As much as the memory will haunt me, it’ll drive me to get back at them. I know it.
    You will not do a thing and you know it. You will pretend for now that you are angry and vengeful, but you will get over it and then move on with your life. You and your little craven brother.
    Shut up! Stay out of my head! I’m so tired of having to listen to you!
    I am part of your mind, fool. But if you ever decide to be a man and avenge your father, I shall talk less.
    Talk less now! The last thing I need is an argument with you.
    Then stop arguing.
    Please, I’m begging you. Let me be, at least for now. Until I can rest.
    Very well. Expect my return.
    The voice finally stopped. Still, questions littered Baltaszar’s mind. How did that fire start tonight? The fire started from the ground, and nobody was close enough to have started it, even Fallar Bain. I was near enough to the front of the crowd that I would have seen if anyone had thrown a torch. And how did it grow so wild in a downpour like that?
    He needed answers. And nobody could give them to him any time soon. Worse yet, if Slade was right. Who is…was…my father? Better yet, who was my mother?
    Baltaszar knew he would need to leave the forest to find his answers. He wasn’t sure how long he would have to search or where this “House of Darian” was, but he would gain nothing by remaining in the forest. He and Bo’az hadn’t really discussed what they would do after their father’s death, but this seemed like the best course of action. Without his father or the farm, there was nothing in Haedon for Baltaszar and no reason to stay. His best friend had disappeared over two years ago without a word to anyone. And then there was her. Yasaman. He thought they would have eventually gotten married, but she’d shunned and avoided him since his father had been charged. Yasaman suddenly became busy all the time. She would pretend to sleep when Baltaszar snuck to her window in the middle of the night. She’d hardly spoken to him since his father’s confinement, but Baltaszar didn’t blame her. Her father didn’t know of their relationship and she was deathly afraid of telling him, given the status of Baltaszar’s father in Haedon. She told him as much. And that as long as her father was around, they couldn’t have a real future.
    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