by Lucas Hault
“I know”, he replied. “I can sense it”.
“They avoid strangers and say that they cannot be trusted”.
“But why?” asked Borkan fortuitously. “Is there any specific reason?” He looked bewildered.
It might be startled, but he was sure about it to be a huge one.
She nodded. That single nod and the look on her eyes spoke a lot.
“What exactly is it honey?”
“The Grim Reapers!” she answered in a stammering voice. The reply was absolutely unpredictable and mystifying, as he and Owen exchanged their blank looks.
“What?” asked Owen dazedly.
She was about to speak when her mother’s cry interfered. “Emily!” she cried, and along with her husband approached the little girl.
The girl’s mother was a beautiful blonde in her late twenties, with small blue eyes and slim lips. She was just the elder version of her daughter. Emily’s father, a man slightly older than his wife, appeared charming too, with his lofty dark hair and captivating grey eyes.
The parents stood before their daughter, scolding her for the act. They seemed unwelcoming to watch her entertain strangers, something that no individual in the town was practiced to. They admonished her in that same foreign tongue, about which Borkan apprehended nothing. They held her hand, pulling her back home once being done with the scoldings. The little girl tried to oppose, as she never found him strange, but stood helpless before her parents, who never listened to her.
“Forgive me”, interrupted Borkan. “I know you can understand my words, and I also know that there is some strong reason for you behaving in such manner”.
They remained unaffected, but carried their act. They did not even turned around to look at him, not once, but continued to get away.
He and Owen chased them.
“I am no stranger”, he cried. “I am Elias Rayne’s son!”
It worked. They stopped as soon as they heard his father’s name. Owen could hardly believe it.
“I am Borkan Solomon Rayne, the son of Lord Elias Solomon Rayne of Townslane, and I am here by the President’s permission for a very significant purpose.”
“I know your father. I have met him once,” replied the man, and his accent was much different, similar to the ones residing in that town. Owen gave a sigh of relief and relaxed into a quick smile, hearing him speak. The man continued, “I am Michelle Warne, a contractor in this town. And this is my wife Ashlynn, and my daughter Emily”.
Borkan passed a smile in return.
“So what makes you here in Gubby, My Lord?” asked Michelle.
“We are here looking for Cade Brown. Can you please direct us to his doorstep?”
The couple exchanged their pale look, before the husband replied, “Forgive me, My Lord! But we do not know anyone here by that name”.
They were lying and he could bet it by looking into their eyes.
“It’s an emergency”, he began. “It is related to something that can be a serious threat to the nation, and perhaps the whole continent. It is very essential for us to meet him, and you may have any reward that you desire in return for your help”.
“What reward?” asked Michelle.
“Anything that your heart desires”, replied Owen.
“We want a small favour”.
“And what is it?” asked Borkan thinking something for a while. He had no idea about what possibly could it be, but was prepared and willing to fulfil it.
“You have to promise me that you won’t mention us directing you to his doorstep.”
It sounded quite simple, and he gave his word at once. The pact was made and the couple began to guide them to their destination.
“Since when have you been here?” asked Owen as they all walked.
“Since my birth. My parents and my grandparents were all born and died in this place. I was born and brought up here, and this itself binds me to Gubby. Moreover, my wife belongs to this place too, and this makes me fall in love with it”.
“Sounds amazing! remarked Owen as they proceeded. They walked past the streets and stalls, and into the lane.
The roads were all covered in sand, as the town was located along the desert, but appeared attractive in its own way.
“Can I ask you something?” inquired Owen abruptly, as if it had just struck his mind and he looked eager to learn about it.
“Sure”, replied Michelle, though he seemed aware of the interrogation that was about to be made.
“What is this Grim Reapers that your daughter had mentioned?”
He stopped the moment he heard that name. His features were pale and masqueraded as if he was deaf.
“You will find him in the fourth house to the right of that Clock Tower,” he mentioned, and without a moment’s delay, parted ways along with his family.
The men remained incredulous, standing still and watching him leave.
“I sense something unpleasant around this place”, said Owen.
“So do I”, he supported. “There is something that these people try to hide with their strange behaviours and concocted manners”. It was too clear that some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred in the past—a disaster which had embraced them all, and yet had left no traces behind it.
He turned to the small clock tower that was old but well maintained. It displayed an hour before noon, which meant that they had ample time in their hands to carry out the chore.
“Fourth one to the right”, he counted and the two began to walk.
“I think you are the one best suited for it, Owen,” he said, as they moved towards the gate.
“Do you finally admit it?”
“At this instance I do”, he murmured.
They walked past the three houses, and finally stood before the fourth one.
All houses, including the one before them, were built using the ancient architecture, carved in the same model. It was only the colour that differed; everything beside it remained the same. The house was a low storey building, with a small garden before it which sprinkled over with a scattered eruption of sticky plants separating the house from the street, and was traversed by a narrow pathway. There was a small balcony that had various flowerpots on its edge. The garden, though small, was beautiful with roses and ferns, and the golden shade of the structure just harmonized the exquisiteness. It was bounded by a three-foot brick wall with a fringe of wood rails upon the top. There was a small gate before the garden that led to the doorstep, and that was where the men stood.
“Go on Owen. I won’t be the one stopping you”.
“Just wait and watch,” replied Owen as he opened the gate and made his way straight to the doorstep.
Borkan stood outside and watched.
“Is there anybody there?” said Owen knocking at the door. There was no reply. He repeated his action, but still the silence. He repeated it for the third time, and yet nothing changed. This made Borkan anxious as he watched him from the gate.
The effort seemed useless, and he turned around disheartened, making the exit. Owen looked helpless and crestfallen. It had been a long road that had perhaps met with failure. He was in no mood to return back but had no other choice.
He took a few steps away from their doorstep, and towards the gate, when suddenly heard some approaching footsteps. He stopped and turned around to look at an old man at the door standing tall before him.
“Who are you and what do you want?” asked the lanky, lean old man of more than seventy years, with stooping shoulders, a stringy neck and grey-tinted glasses. His voice had turned shrill as his age.
“I was here looking for Cade Brown”.
“You are looking at him, Blacky.” His remark wasn’t pleasant but rather snub. Any other individual might have taken it as an offence, but the case was completely different for Owen.
“I am Owen Green of Townslane and I am here with Lord Borkan”.
“Who the hell is he?”
“He is the son of Lord Elias Solomon Ray
ne”.
“Elias Rayne, the Governor of Townslane. An honourable man similar to his name.”Owen nodded. The old man continued, “But it would be more appropriate if you talk about yours”.
“I am here for something much important than that”. He was least interested to talk about anything other than the concern.
“And why should I listen to you?” asked the old man offensively. He looked sore and miffed, and was in absolutely no mood for any further gossip.
“Because it appears to be a serious threat to the nation”.
“I am no saviour and neither are you”.
Owen seemed disgruntled, while Borkan stood in silence, clutched up in the conversation between the two. A shade of anxiety crossed his expressive face. Something was definitely not right, and he could sense it within.
“I was here for an important enquiry,” said Owen.
“Perhaps you should have asked your mother the same”, cried Cade Brown.
It was enough to break the ties of Owen’s patience, triggering the explosion of his exasperation. There was a sudden change in his emotions, and he lost control of himself.
“Owen”, entered Borkan immediately. He was very well aware of the situation, and knew what could follow next. He thus rushed inside before Owen could make any further move.
“Let me talk,” he said, entering in and standing between them.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” asked the old man. He truly lacked manners, and the President’s words stroke his mind. It was indeed challenging to meet Cade Brown with patience.
“I am Borkan, the one just mentioned”. He tried to sound as kind and cordial as he could.
“I don’t remember anything as such”. The old man seemed to be diagnosed with disgust, while his native accent rattled like a stick upon railings.
“But I do”, said Borkan. “We are here for something much important just like air and water”.
“Then I doubt about me being helpful to you any further. They are in abundance, and you can find it anywhere around”. He didn’t look snowed, and was in no mood to entertain those two. “You know the way out,” he said and began to move back into the house. He walked back with full pride, as if he had returned back as victor from a bloody war.
“We know you are a Holf”, mentioned Borkan. His words acted like a remote that forced those moving footsteps to cease. The men looked at each other as he turned around, approaching them. He walked on and stood at his initial spot, at the doorstep, confronting them both.
“How many women have you been with?” he asked Borkan, staring at him into the eyes.
“None”, he replied at once.
“Do not lie to me”, said Cade Brown. He sounded admonitory. He had perhaps the same perception about him, judging by his appearance, which actually was not the truth.
“I never lie”. He sounded bold and ingenuous.
Cade Brown nodded. “Someone had committed a mistake and I came into existence, but they had to repay. I committed the same and had to repay for it too. It was then that I realized that you will have a return for every single deed of yours”.
“That’s true”, he agreed and listened.
The old man continued, “I have already lost my beloved for my deeds. I don’t want to lose the remaining, and so I humbly request you to leave me alone and never ever return back here”.
A large part of his sternness had disappeared, and the one standing before them at that instance appeared lamentable and penitent.
The man who was so rude and ill-mannered moments ago was actually the one mutilated and browbeaten within. He looked disheartened, standing still in silence. He wanted to cry but somehow managed to hold himself, and Borkan could assure it by the look on his face.
Borkan didn’t have the heart to question him any further and neither did Owen. He was ready to accept their failure, rather than to hurt the helpless Cade Brown, by digging out his old wounds.
A moment of stillness sat between them, which was interrupted by steady footsteps. There emerged from the house a plump woman perhaps in her late fifties, standing next to the old Cade Brown. She appeared attractive despite her structure.
“Just calm down honey! I will handle them”, said she, and kissed him. He nodded and steadily walked back into the house.
“I know you are Lord Elias Rayne’s son and you are as humble as him, and I appreciate that. I just want to apologize for my husband’s behaviour, about which he himself has no control over it”.
“There is absolutely no need for an apology. Anyone in his shoes would have done the same”, he said.
The stoutish, red-faced woman, Abella Brown was a dark-haired lady with beautiful brown eyes.
“What did exactly happen with him?” he asked.
“He has turned victim by their hands”. She seemed disturbed to recollect that image.
“Whose hand?” he inquired impatiently.
She remained quiet for a long time. Owen noticed a young woman standing by the balcony of the house. Her sight was mainly set on Borkan, which was nothing new to watch. It was never the first time as Owen had noticed many other women and maidens adoring Borkan. He was merely impossible to resist, though it never actually affected the man himself, who had remained strictly celibate.
“Who the hell are they, and why are they feared so much?” asked Borkan vigorously.
“They are the uncrowned king who run this place. They live by the desert hills but dominate the town of Gubby. They loot the people, murder men, rape the women and hunt down innocent children. They abduct maidens to their place and take turns raping them. The poor lasses are either imprisoned for life or are brutally killed. Their shadows weigh heavy upon every soul in Gubby.” Abella was grasped by a sudden horror and her voice shivered throughout her speech.
“You said that your husband was a victim too”, remembered Owen.
The emotions on her face changed. Borkan could see that she was repressing some internal emotion. Her eyes seemed wet, fighting back her tears, while her voice was filled with pain, as she narrated, “I am his second wife. The first one, April Brown, was mercilessly killed along with her son Frank, for trying to aid her daughter. That poor girl Lois was abducted by those demons and raped and killed, and her corpse hung by that clock tower to rot.” It seemed as if her imagination had got hold of her, and she ended in a perfect paroxysm of fear—white-faced, perspiring, trembling and looking round them.
It was indeed unimaginable and disheartening. She continued, “Lois was not the only one. They had done the same to many others, burying their bodies deep beneath the sand. There is a reason why the people of the town avoid strangers. And that is because we are not allowed for it. They have an eye on every movement of the town. They are the darkness that can never be defeated”. Her features were pale and her eyes filled with horror, picturing their images within.
Something stroke Owen’s mind, as he remembered the view on the hilltops.
Abella’s words were enough to answer certain questions in Borkan’s head, and he could now apprehend people’s strange behaviours towards them.
“You avoid strangers, then what made you share it with us?” he asked.
“Because not every stranger is a son of Lord Elias Solomon Rayne,” she replied. “Besides that, none had ever shown up looking for my husband, except the President and Lord Rayne”.
“Father has been to this place?” he asked surprisingly.
“Once”, she replied. “Along with the President”.
“He never told me”, he said to himself.
“This may surprise you as well, but I know why exactly you are here”. The men remained silent. She continued, “You believe in the Holves and the tales of the abandoned city.”
“That place is swallowing countless lives, and it has swallowed my younger brother. I believe there is something unnatural out there that needs to be stopped before death conquers life”. Owen sounded menacing and concerned.
She was too invol
ved in her thoughts for any immediate reply. Borkan inquired, “Do you know anything regarding Harot? I mean has your husband told you anything regarding that place?”
“He has never talked about it much. Our daughter desires the same just like you, to learn about it, and has asked him more than a dozen times. But he has never mentioned anything. The only thing he says is that the end is near”.
Owen once looked up at the balcony to notice her presence. She stood still with her eyes resting on them.
Abella continued, “He says there is little time for the world to meet its end. But the town of Gubby is already under threat”.
“Why don’t you bring this to the authority?” asked Borkan.
“They are the only sovereignty here. There are no telephones or any means of communication, and no one is allowed to leave the town without their notice. Men involved in trade practices are accompanied by the renegades serving them, and any exceptions meet nothing but a terrible death”. She appeared debilitated and stunned.
The same scene flashed before Owen’s eyes. The weird creatures that had been glaring at them all their way. Something that he shouldn’t have neglected. It pinched him repeatedly, and he could no longer hold himself from inquiring. “Who are they?”
“The Grim Reapers!” was her cold reply.
She had no other choice but to follow the commands of the intimidating guards surrounding her, who stood tall and fearsome, with their weapons in hands and blood seeking eyes. She was absolutely helpless and vulnerable and could do nothing about it.
Amanda Layne was being taken to the Dictator, Antonio Calaway’s office. She had been out for a long time, following that bash by Ronald Hilton. She could still feel it aching, and cursed him every single time within. There was a small mark on her forehead, and some dry patches of blood around.
“Keep moving”, pushed one of them, as they walked past the narrow corridors, before the spiral staircase that led to his office. She once turned around to glare at him, but he appeared much more fierce and brusque than her, and hence she had to turn away at once and move as commanded. The gigantic guards in green, standing on both sides of the corridors, with their fierce amber eyes watching her constantly stunned her senses and formed horripilation all over her body.