Valterra

CHAPTER SEVEN

     "I'm what? Primordial?"  Avos felt like he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. These people who sat before him now could not be his family. How could they keep something like this a secret from him his entire life? Something so huge!  "This is all fairy tales and legends."

     "It may seem that way now, my son, and we were never certain. We only had the mark to go on and my dreams," this uncle Marcus explained.     

     "What mark? And please, my father sits before you, I am his only son."    

     "Forgive me, but you bare an Elemental mark on your arm. When you were an infant I was able to confirm it. Your mark is the Water Element." He took hold of Avos' wrist and pulled up his sleeve. On the inside of his forearm, there was a mark, just a birthmark as far as Avos was concerned, though it was in the shape of an equilateral triangle. 

     He had never given the birthmark much thought, why would he? He noticed maybe in the last few years it seemed to be getting darker, but he just figured it was his age or the amount of time he spent in the sun. Even now as he looked at it, it seemed different somehow. Darker yes, but also clearer, more defined.

     "When I blessed you on your name day, in Endure, I felt it. That was also when I noticed your mark. I had a dream that same night about the Shattering and then of the Primordial's return. When I woke I knew what the mark meant." 

     Avos shook free from his uncle's grip. "This is bullocks." He got up to leave but was stopped by his mother.

     "Avos, wait!"

     "Do you buy into this, Ma? From a dream and a mark on my arm?"

     "I didn't want to, Avos. I didn't want to at all. But when the Bringers showed up in Endure looking for a child who bore the mark, I knew it had to be true."

     "Wait, wait. Are you saying that I am the reason Endure was sacked?"

     "It's not your fault Avos, but we had to protect you, get you away, keep you hidden. If the Bringers knew a child bore the mark it would only be a matter of time before they found you in the city. It was safer here, safer if you did not know!"

     "Ah, bullocks." And with that, Avos did leave. His world was spinning and he needed an anchor. He bolted up to his room and slammed the door behind him. His thoughts raced. His fear returned. Was this stranger one of the faceless men from his dreams? For some reason, he didn't think so. 

     It was something else that terrified him. He knew in his heart what they said was true. It would explain everything he had ever questioned about his parents keeping him here, like a prisoner. He thought of his father and how strict he had been about leaving the farm, even just on his shorter rounds.

     He remembered when he grew strong enough, at about 10 years old, his father taught him how to tend for the herd himself and take on other chores. He trained him in shearing sheep and educated him on keeping their lands cultivated. He was very fastidious when it came to helping his mother tend the horses and cart. Her wares sold for the most coin. She spun fleece into wool and made sweaters, gloves, and hats for everyone in a day's walking distance. His father would occasionally take the horse cart up to Knoxdale, the closest town from the estate and sell his wife's extra items at the Feast Day market along with his ware. Though the real money in shearing was made by selling the fleece bushels to tailors and crafters who worked it into cloth to make clothes, blankets, saddle carpets, and other garments.

     When he began to take on more chores, Avos thought for sure his dad would let him accompany him on some of his travels, even just up to Knoxdale where Yagor the Tailor bought their fleece would suffice. Still, his father never allowed it. Avos begged, pleaded, even coaxed his father that the journey was hard too hard on him, but to no avail. 

       Avos felt resentment towards his father for being so firm all these years. He was told he had to stay home and keep an eye on the estate, that it was his responsibility to watch over his mother and all the animals. Nonetheless, he always felt like he was missing out on some grand adventure. Now, more than anything, he felt betrayed and lied to. If he was a Primordial, should he not be powerful enough to make his own way in the world? Then again, he didn't really know what it meant to actually be a Primordial, or become, what was it? Resurrected? Is that the word Marcus had used?

      He had never heard either term. He had so many questions for the stranger but he was still holding back. Could he leave his family behind? Would he still be himself after being resurrected? Would he ever be able to come home and lead a normal life?

     He lay on his bed and closed his eyes. He heard an eagle's call in the distance. He felt the air around him thicken. He tried to calm his thoughts. He thought of the rain.

     Before long, it came to him in a waking dream:

     There is sand beneath my feet, I feel waves rolling over my toes. The ocean. I've never been to a beach but this place feels like home. The water is endless, like the Silver Sea. Single homes begin to pop up all around me, peaking out at the beach from within their forest cover. Young boys and girls appear and dig in the sand looking for shells and clams for crafting and eating. It's peaceful. 

     Then suddenly the earth begins to shake. The children run to their homes yelling for their parents. The sky turns orange, the ocean begins to hiss; steaming, evaporating, like a low tide that never stopped. The air warms around me and the ground keeps wobbling and jolting. 

     Where the beach just lay, now stands dunes, towering above me. I simply stare in amazement.

     My arm is on fire! I look at it but there are no flames, I only feel the burn. But as I look again I see my birthmark, the Watermark has turned from brown to silver-blue. It shines up in my eyes brighter than the lights from the fireworks that father lit off on Feast Day. It's getting so hot. Will my arm fall off?

     The sky is red now, no water in sight. The forest burns. The faceless men and women surround me. I have to do something, but what? Instinctively, I hold my lit arm up above my head and say something in a language I do not understand. My body flashes and emits a blue aura.

     Above me clouds began to form, then lightning and thunder begin to rip apart the sky. Rain falls all around me yet I don't seem to be getting wet. I shout something unfamiliar again and lightning shoots out directly from my hand. I feel it rip through my body like I was just shocked by intense magic, but I feel no pain. 

     The ocean is restored.

     A voice from the stars speaks my name. 

     What was it, it just said?

      Avos sat up, suddenly. He was wet with perspiration. His limbs stayed motionless, yet his chest heaved in and out breathlessly. Thunder rolled in the distance. 

     Was that what it meant to be a Primordial? What about the faceless? Who were they?

     He realized there was only one way to find out.