by Lucas Hault
A couple of women tried to check on Borkan who lay breathless. They struggled to reach him but were prevented by the countless Reapers, who dragged them all over the place, beating them down and forcing themselves upon them. The loud wails glorified Master Dronzo, whose laughter echoed through the caves. Then, suddenly, like an immediate glow in the pitch dark, something happened. It was like a sudden tremor that had hit back as the result of their action. The bursting laughter stopped instantaneously, watching Borkan sigh. His fingers moved miraculously over the surface and clenched hard. He began to sniff repeatedly before finally the eyes opened, and the man jumped back to his feet.
Owen was amazed to witness this. He had known Borkan for quite long, but had never ever seen something like this. The hazel eyes were drowned and replaced with crystal blue. His skin had turned much brighter, while his lighting eyes draped in the similar sparkle. The temperature within the large cave began to rise instantaneously and the features over his face hardened.
Master Dronzo and the Grim Reapers were shaken, conceiving the scene before their eyes. They were blown off to observe the deep wounds wiped off his body, which now looked much stronger and different than before. One among the Grim Reapers moved closer, in a gasp to crush him, but the flesh of his hand melted the very moment he laid his hand on Borkan.
Borkan glared at the ones before him, and the blue sparkle in his lighting eyes grew brighter, while his body temperature continued to rise every moment. He smashed a few Reapers, turning them into ashes. He ascended the stairway the very next moment, confronting Master Dronzo, who tried his best to strike back, but it no longer laid any effect on the uncommon man, but rather the fierce master couldn’t stand his touch. Borkan smacked him hard, sending him over the pointed end of the throne, where his neck sank into the point, throwing spills of blood everywhere around. Master Dronzo was slayed, and his lifeless body lay over his very own throne.
Borkan turned around to face the others, who immediately threw themselves down on his feet. Owen and all the women in the cave could hardly believe their eyes. Thousands of Grim Reapers remained still, with their heads bent down to his feet. “Master! Master!” was the only sound colliding everywhere around. Owen saw the dozen men postulating, with their bodies shivering in horror.
Some of the women were accustomed to the convention, as they had spent a long time in the cave. A plump, red-headed woman explained it to Owen. “The only one to rule the Grim Reapers is their Master,” said she. “Anyone who kills the Master on his very own throne replaces him and claims his position. Dronzo had stabbed the one before him, Master Drex to death on his very own throne. This was how he came to rule the Grim Reapers. And now it is Lord Elias Rayne’s son who has destroyed the reigning Master like never before.”
“I hereby command you to free all the slaves and never trouble Gubby or any place around,” commanded Borkan, and his savage eyes blazed with anger. His voice sounded heavier and much different than the original. The sparkle in his blue lighting eyes continued growing brighter, while his body temperature wasn’t on hold too, making the cold cave feel like a hot desert. The Grim Reapers remained down and still, listening to their New Master. “Never invade peace and prosperity, but slaughter the ones denying my words”. He was loud and bold enough, with similar attitude of a Master.
The Grim Reapers rose to their knees and roared.
“I am sorry! But I haven’t come across anyone of that name or appearance”, said Mickie, a brunette young lady, small, dainty, well gloved and dressed in the most perfect taste. She was the wife of a rich nobleman, and their high storey mansion was located nearest to the brothel. The land was known to have the highest number of brothels, which proved much exhausting to Sebastien and his companions, who had spent the whole couple of days travelling around them.
This was the last, including the other one, located at the west.
“Don’t you remember someone of that kind, ever visiting the brothel or anywhere around?” he asked. He did look tiresome, and the men had lost their hope. It was like searching a needle in the haste. He was fed-up enquiring the residents near the brothels which proved useless every time.
She shook her head.
He along with the rest proceeded.
“Shall we check the last one?” asked Joe. The look of weariness had masked his face, just like the rest.
Sebastien shook his head. “This would be enough for today”. The men were on their way back to the guest house.
The onus was indeed struggling and had never stopped since their arrival to the island. Sebastien had his dagger placed by his side, with its hilt pressing against the side of his waist with every proceeding step.
“I think Jon might be in the Royal Palace”, said Joe. It was the only thing piercing his mind at that instance. The men had looked for him almost around the whole island—both eastern and western, but discovered no sign of him.
“It can’t be possible. Remember Lord Jordan Hills mentioning the visit of the Dictator of this land to North-Eastern Syneria. He has been there ever since Jon’s arrival. And this is the best time to deal with Jon before the Dictator’s return.”
“I have begun to doubt his presence here”, said Rob, a stout fellow around forty, whose long beard brushed his shirt. He, just like the rest of his companions, was frustrated and disheartened with their regular failure.
“We can’t just conclude it in such manner. This is something related to our nation, and we have to get him before our foes”, he said annoyingly, and every inch of discomfort simply cursed and abused the accused. He just wanted to end this as quickly as possible and slit open the man’s throat with his rewarded dagger.
“What do you think is the fate of a traitor?” he asked his companions.
“Death!” replied Jason, a tall and dark fellow with a goatee. He was straightforward and directly jumped into conclusions.
“I think misery”, said Rob. He had always adored Sebastien and wanted his younger sister to marry him, though he never had the heart to talk about it directly to the man.
Everyone presented their own perception, one after the other.
“What do you think Joe?” asked Jason.
“I believe it’s either prosperity or relief!” he replied vainly, noticing the dull faces of his companions around, including that of his friend, staring at him abruptly. It went all over their heads, requiring appropriate elaboration. Joe continued, “Prosperity because you are heavily rewarded by the other side. They choose you among the rest and provide everything you desire. And you live with it if you successfully escape. Relief because if you get in the hands of the ones you betrayed, they surely kill you and set you free from the burdens of the cursed life that follows. Thus, the fate of a traitor depends on the situation. Prosperity or relief!”
That was perhaps one of the worst theories that any of them had ever come across, but the way he conceived it looked different.
“Your father would have surely relieved you if he had ever been presented with your theory”, said Sebastien and they laughed.
The guesthouse was not too distant from their reach, and the men walked all their way back through the crowded streets filled with the wealthy people of the land.
Watching the guesthouse before their sight did please them, but the thought of resuming their arduous hunt just irked.
“This day was no different than the rest”, said Joe as the men walked through the gate, and into the house. Sebastien pulled off his wig, using his fingers to comb the enticing hair, which along with his green eyes made him noteworthy.
Sebastien walked in to observe the doors of the hall opened. He could hear some chatter in the big hall, which he remembered to be locked before they left in the early morning. It was late noon following their return. The gate was unlocked which could not be possible, as he and his friends were the only key holders of the hall. Besides, no guests in the mansion were allowed to use other’s rooms under any circumstances, and this was what bothered him
time and again.
A queer thought came into his head. He sprang towards the hall with a frightened face and suspicion in his eyes. But was stunned the very moment he stepped into the marble hall. His eyes suddenly startled forward in a rigid, fixed stare, and his lips parted in astonishment. He could hardly believe the sight before his eyes. He thought himself to be in some dream or a vision, and pinched himself to see if he was awake. But his flesh answered the pinching test, making him realize that he was in his sober senses.
“Can it really be?” he asked himself all the time, as he looked at Jon Philips and three of his men before him. The curly haired figure, with a thin moustache, stood in the hall before his eyes. A man with square face and brownish eyes, he appeared somewhere around thirty.
Sebastien was completely shocked, and so were the others behind him.
He glared at the figure before him, who was drenched in sweat, while his forehead covered in furrows. He stood before them, worried and scared, while his eyes were filled with terror.
“For the sake of the Almighty, just listen to me Sebastien. Just listen to me for a moment”, he began in a shivering voice, as he noticed the fierce Sebastien, chasing him with the dagger held in his hand.
Sebastien hated this but had to stop, though he never wanted the words of a traitor fall into his ears.
“What the hell do you have to say?” he roared, with his ferocious eyes set on the man before him, thirsty to witness the traitor’s blood.
“I know what you are thinking of me, but please don’t trust it Sebastien. I am no traitor. I was here for some trade purpose when the Dictator’s men stopped me. They said I was a royal guest in their land, and shall be rewarded by the Dictator, Rick Felton once he returns back”.
“Why should I believe you?” he asked annoyingly, staring into those horror-stricken eyes. He was still in no mood to look at him or talk to him. The only thing he wanted was to nail the body of the traitor high in the wall, in order to make an example out of betrayal and treason.
“You have to believe me Sebastien!” cried Jon. “I am no traitor and I have never betrayed anyone. I sense this as some brilliant strategy to…”
A gunshot followed from behind, hitting Jon right in the head before he could finish. The man dropped down at once, like a ripened fruit from a tree. Sebastien turned around and saw the guards entering the hall, surrounding everyone around. A few more gunshots followed, killing Jon’s companions, along with Jason and the rest. Sebastien, Joe and Rob were the only three that remained. Sebastien was stunned. Everything happened too quick to react, leaving absolutely no time to figure anything out.
“You never mentioned that you are Sebastien Stummenford, Sir?” asked a clear but rather harsh voice. The voice was familiar to him, and he had heard it somewhere before. But he was too disturbed to take a guess and simply turned around to look at Ryan Cutler, his guard friend, who stood pointing a revolver at him.
This triggered Sebastien’s explosion within, and he immediately grabbed the guard, Ryan Cutler in his arms, placing his dagger over his throat. The pink nails had turned white with the pressure of his grip. “Let my men go, and live. Refuse and I will slit open your throat”.
The guards made no movement until another gunshot followed, and Rob, who was standing before Sebastien dropped down dead. This time the gunshot came from his back. He turned around with Ryan held between his arms, and was thunderstruck to witness Joe Rodrick standing with a big cunning smile covering his face.
Sebastien’s world had turned upside down. Bewildered and stunned by this blow, he felt his head spin. He could hardly believe it. Receiving a bullet seemed much easier than accepting this. The one before him could be hardly imagined his friend, someone who was said to be his closest. The incident of that night repeated in his mind, and now he could easily conceive the other figure in the shadow as Joe Rodrick. Perhaps it might have been his friendship and care that must have avoided ascertaining it in the first place. He stood numbed, simply staring at the man with a revolver before him, who now was no different than a stranger.
“Welcome to the Islands of Sinfron, Sebastien Stummenford!” said Ryan Cutler, with a big smile of victory over his face.
The enormous and exquisite Palace of Balin appeared much more beautiful and enticing during the night. Balin was a glamorous city located on the Hills of Syneria. The place was known for its location and climate, and was a major tourist attraction that played a vital role in its economy. Balin was the second most attractive city, following Sinfroera located in North-Eastern Syneria. However, it was the only city in the whole Southern Continent that had the highest number of rectories, exceeding hundred, and so had a Rasphor majority population.
The beautiful Palace of Balin was the main attraction that was built on the hilltop. It was believed that that colossal Palace was built hundreds of years ago by Bosha, a Holferian Goddess. The woman deity was said to be the most gorgeous, and highly attractive than any other women in the whole world could ever be. Her beauty was so mesmeric that it could make the entire world stand-by. She was regarded as the idol of love and fortune in Holfism, and it was believed that the Palace on the hilltop was built by her supernatural powers within a fortnight, following the War of the Three Continents, to shelter her children.
The Palace was one of its kind, with an inimitable art. It was ancient but none could say so, looking at its staunch and magnificent appearance. There were four ascending towers attached to the main structure, and the last one seemed to touch the sky. The Palace structure was a multistorey monument that comprised of a hundred and twenty chambers. The inner structure was no lesser than a maze and was so built by the Goddess to avoid the intruders from harming her children.
The Palace of Balin was surrounded by dense forests down the slopes that extended to a large area. The Palace at present was the residence of Lord Joshua Hocaine and his family. He was the Governor General of Balin, appointed by the President of Syneria. He was the cousin to Lord Elias Rayne and was a loyal and a capable man, always appreciated for his intrepidity.
It was a dark autumn night, long and unremitting, as of a new moon. The land was covered in pitch-blackness. Thunderbolt hit the sky, which perhaps was a betoken of the coming of the storm. The lights outside the Palace were the only means to overcome darkness, beside the numerous lamp posts fixed by the side of the cemented road.
Two guards, dressed in metallic grey attires, rushed down hurriedly towards the others guarding the thick dark forests. The guards of Balin also wore a fur hat, which had the national emblem of Syneria attached to its face.
They sprang down breathlessly, with their rifles clutched in their hands. They had perhaps discovered something erratic that needed to be monitored. The gorge was the only way to enter or exit the Palace and that large city.
Descending the narrow roads wasn’t that effortful, and within a few moments, they found themselves down before the woods. They approached the others, but to their astonishment witnessed a faction of guards already standing before them, who resembled the same troubled look, and were occupied in some serious argument.
“What is the matter?” asked the taller among the two, getting involved among them.
“Leo and the others say that they have witnessed a group of five men running into the woods”, replied Brutus. He was the tallest among the rest and the darkest as well.
His response was more disturbing than the thunder in the sky.
“What?” The shorter one, who had just joined their company was shocked. His senses were blown off, finding it hard to believe as to what the ears just heard. “That is exactly what Jack says to have witnessed, and this is the sole reason why we are down here”.
The others had that same abominable expression to hear him speak.
“I think we must better be quick”, said Leo at once, running his hand over his clean-shaved face.
“Your efforts shall prove to be futile”, said Brutus, staring at a couple of army trucks that sto
od before the narrow roadway. Down the road, the lamps were but misty splotches of diffused light which threw a feeble circular glimmer upon the dark forest.
Brutus still believed the others to be delusional, exhorting them to fall back to reality.
“I hope they do!” wished Leo. He was muddled, but something unpleasant pricked his senses.
The guards pulled on their rifles, and without any further delay set their feet into the woods. Leo and Jack, including the other five followed. Brutus had no other choice but to accompany them, and he reluctantly moved his buns after them.
The guards entered the woods, with their eyes and ears opened, and their hands grasped on their rifles. The forest was dense and dark, covered in extreme silence that disturbed their ears. The feeble light thrown by the lamp posts from the roads above was the only source of light that allowed them to have a dull view over the unsubmitting darkness. The crushing sound of dry leaves beneath their heavy footsteps filled the entire woods.
“You both should accept the truth that it was nothing more than an illusion”, said Brutus as they continued into the woods. Everything seemed fine so far and he suspected no danger ahead.
“Maybe you should accept some more sincerity into your job”, said Leo. Brutus gave him a sharp look.
The coterie walked past the Sandalwood trees, and deep into the woods. Every way looked identical in the dark, barbed with silence all around. The guards searched in every possible direction but in vain.
“There is no sign of an intruder or anyone. Have I now to give it in written,” said Brutus. He was annoyed and was in no intention to continue their pursuance.
“Maybe we should disperse,” said Jack. He still believed that too many people can never have the same illusion. Perhaps he was right, and the trespassers were somewhere around, who could prove to be a threat, and it was their obligation to resolve it before the consequences. “It will be hasty, and will enable us to look around everywhere properly”. Jack sounded accurate.