The Shadow of Death: The Conquering Darkness

by Lucas Hault

  “Whom do you choose?” he asked but in vain, as Owen never turned to him, not once. Tramp was a skilful butler who had spent his early years as a wanderer, where he had met people with different temperaments and beliefs; and that had exceptionally accomplished him as an excellent judge of character. And it was this man, Owen Green, whose complicated nature had struck him right from his arrival in Hustlecitis. He was drowned in his brother’s agony and yet showed some traits that Tramp liked not—perhaps his arrogance, which at some points overtook him.

  “Which one do you choose?” he repeated.

  This time Owen turned around. The expressions over his face had changed instantly. It looked as if sorrow had filled his heart again, drowning the initial grimace deep within. His eyes shifted to the side again and became glazed with a glassy layer of tears.

  “I choose Borkan Solomon Rayne,” he answered in a quivering tone. “I will accompany him to the north of the Capital.”

  The cool breeze kissed his charming face, making the hair fly. The naturally wavy and moderately thick jet black hair, rounded in style with whipped-up breezy curls framing the face, and marvellous green eyes simply made the man, Sebastien Stummenford incomparable in Silver Island. He was a large man of about two and twenty in age, with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad intelligent face; clad in cream-coloured cotton shirt, puffy around collar and placket, along with a pair of trousers and rich leather boots. He was fairly handsome, short-bearded, with a pair of fabulous green eyes which dignified his appearance and made him distinctive.

  Sebastien was on the shore, seated among the huge rocks that laid between sand and sea. The shore was a gateway, a place where the aquatic and terrestrial worlds collided. It was a graceful arc of sand that glittered under the sun, and was highlighted with the dark, rigid rocks, which was one of the biggest attraction of the land. The refreshing shore was his reversed place where he used to spend his leisure time. Soft sky above, sharp stones underfoot and the clouds caressing with reflected light. The lacy waves were a drumbeat that echoed in his heart, and the breeze blew the tension right out of his bones. Sebastien Stummenford, who was always known to be decisive, was down on his haunches, admiring the ancient Holferian dagger on his hand. The dagger was exclusive and a marvellous piece of ancient art. It was presented to him by the President of Silver Island as a reward for his victory in the Death Ally Brawl, about a couple of years ago.

  Death Ally Brawl was the most popular frolic all over the three continents. It was a sport in which the use of pistols, guns and revolvers was prohibited. The participants had to battle each other using swords, spears, and bare hands, and the only way to victory was killing all the others. The sole survivor at the end was the victor. Sebastien had shocked the world later that day, when he slayed Allister Hunt of the nation of Aries, who had remained undefeated for more than a decade. He was believed to be invincible, until their face-off. It was on that particular day when Sebastien had come into the President’s notice and has since remained one of his main. He was the right hand of Jordan Hills, the President of Silver Island, and clearly, it was never out of favouritism, or because of the illustrious and fascinating personality that he carried, but due to his prodigious dexterity and the remarkable strength that he possessed.

  Sebastien had grown up by that place. He was so deeply attached with the shore and its breeze, and the scent of the sea that they shared an eloquent relationship, where both he and the environment shared a natural bond. The cool breeze gave him the taste and smell of brine, while the rhythm of crashing waves and the cries of mews took command of his ears. Sebastien was the only son of Isiah Stummenford, the best known stonemason in the whole land. His father was respected by all in Silver Island, not because of his excellent craft of stonemasonry, but because of the uncommon status of his son. The dashing manner and fearlessness of speech made Sebastien Stummenford a favourite with them all.

  Sebastien loved his country, just as truly as a man loved a woman. There was a patriotism in his blood, so intense and so profound that it had, abruptly, and unknowingly turned into an obsession. He loved himself, his parents, his place, and his people. He remembered the proud faces of his parents during the auspicious moment, when he stood the victor in that brawl, and it drew a sweet smile on his face. But it was not the only accomplishment of the young man. He had achieved unimaginable targets, making every individual proud of him. He just loved it, every single time.

  He was immersed deep into his thoughts, when a sudden loud voice interrupted. It came from the rocks behind him and he turned around to catch a glimpse of the Palace guards—three of them, dressed in yellow and blue, and long tattoos covering the right of their faces which was the traditional signature of the army of Silver Island. They stood by their President’s command to escort Sebastien Stummenford to the Palace. Their faces were expressionless, and there was something puzzling in their manners which had seized him with a sudden shock. He startled like a deer in the woods, almost toppling as he got back to his feet.

  “Let’s proceed!” said he and followed them through the track.

  The Palace was situated a few distance away from the shore. Sebastien was before the archaic stairwell that led downstairs to the Palace. The Palace in Silver Island was built using the Basilian art and architecture. It was the only one in the world to be situated beneath the surface. The Silver Island was the second largest island in the world following the Islands of Sinfron, and was once believed to be the land of the Great Basilo Tribe. Though the tribals were no longer into existence, their presence could be marked through the brilliant art and architecture, which was still in practice by the people residing there.

  “I wish I could bargain this abode!” expressed Sebastien, adoring every inch of the structure as he descended. It had always attracted him and was something merely impossible to disdain.

  “I often think the same,” supported one of the guards, who had tattooed his entire face.

  The place was indeed enthralling, and he had learned a lot about it from his father. The Basilos used to regard the crocodiles as their sacred animal, and their idol for strength and fortune. This played a crucial part in their art and architecture, as the walls and other sculptures were delineated like its carapace.

  The Basilos ruled Silver Island for decades before they were defeated and conquered by Lord Balor Hills. That marked the beginning of their reign, while the extinction of the Great Basilo Tribe.

  The large stairs led down to the archway, leading to the long corridor with its vista of whitewashed wall and dun-coloured doors. Near the further end, a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the big entrance hall, and that was where Jordan Hills used to hold his general meetings.

  The President was seated on his cushioned chair beside his wife, before the large table that had their national emblem placed on it. It was a circular model, which had the armoured face of a knight grooved on it. Lord Jordan was involved with a few of his officials in some trade ventilation, before noticing the presence of his newly arrived man.

  Sebastien Stummenford, the closest official to the President, and the right hand in his affairs, walked in and stood before the two.

  “How are you doing?” asked the President.

  “Very well My Lord! Thank you”.

  The President of Silver Island, Jordan Hills was a middle-sized man in his mid-forties, dark-haired, brown-eyed, with a square face and a hawk-like nose, clad in a dark grey coat, whose collar stretched far up his neck, hiding the tattoo of a crocodile on the side.

  His slinky wife, Kylie Maddox, was a lovely young woman with slim lips, and a flush of pink upon her cheeks. She inherited the same genetic signature of her house, and was wrapped in a half sleeve golden frock, with dark green patches around. A beauty in her early twenties, she possessed some of her mother’s mien.

  “Who among your parents are green-eyed?” she asked, gazing at him all the while. His appearance reminded her of something, and she had nev
er seen or heard about any other individual comprising green eyes beside the Maddoxes.

  “None”, he replied shaking his head. There was about him also the glamour of experience and of mystery which attracts a woman’s interest, and finally her love.

  She shared no other word but stared at him prudently, as her husband spoke.

  “You must be struggling to know as to why I demanded your sudden presence in the Palace”, began Lord Jordan, overtaking his wife, as there were many other important issues to sort beside the lady’s inquiry.

  Sebastien nodded. There was still a lurking suspicion in his eyes which darted to right and to left, while his forehead wrinkled with speculation.

  The other officials slipped out of the hall following the President’s order, and now only the three remained—the President, his lady and Sebastien Stummenford. His eyes once scanned the forsaken hall that was colossal and splendid. There were no expensive carpets laid down, but the ground was floored with sparklers, yet another piece of Basilian art. The walls were lined with small windows, all carved in the shape of gems. The lights reflected everywhere within the surface, making it bright and beautiful.

  “Do you remember Jon Philips?” asked the President. “The one you met last week?”

  “The secret agent”, he replied at once. It seemed as that man was already in his mind all the time, ever since their heated argument on their very first encounter.

  Lord Jordan nodded. “The relationship between Silver Island and the Islands of Sinfron is no secret to you. We had already been in war, and the tensions continue till date”.

  “Yes My Lord”, he replied and listened.

  The President continued, “I have received information that their Dictator Rick Felton has been planning a secret attack. I had sent Jon Philips and his men by my command to detect the matter secretly. But now it comes to my knowledge that he has been bribed and has gone rogue. He now plans to sell our information to their Dictator and help him conquer our land”. He was horror-stricken as he spoke.

  It was indeed a troubling situation which could prove disastrous to their nation, and Sebastien Stummenford was very much aware of it.

  “Just think about it,” he continued in a voice filled with restlessness and solicitude. “Once he succeeds in selling our secrets, our foes will have access all over the place. They would then prove to be invincible, and there would be bloodsheds all around. Countless innocents will die, women will be raped and the children shall be slaughtered. The Silver Island would turn red, and there shall be nothing but horror and death”.

  Sebastien’s hunch proved right. It was indeed alarming and a deep matter of concern. It was a do or die situation, and they knew it deep within themselves.

  “We can’t let that happen”, she mentioned, though her mind still danced around her initial thought, and her gaze never shifted away from him.

  Sebastien nodded. “What exactly do you expect from me?”

  “There is an old famous proverb which says ‘a stitch in time saves nine.’ That is exactly what needs to be done. We don’t have to fight a bloody war; we only have to suppress its cause”.

  He was comprehended. The more he mulled it over the more his brain became a spinning top, always finding more questions than answers. He thus held his thoughts and listened. Lord Jordan continued, “I want you to get there secretly and slay that traitor before he succeeds. He is already breathing in that land and so you better need to be quick”.

  Lord Jordan sounded challenging, while the assignment seemed strenuous, but it would have never been delegated to him, if it lacked any of the two. He was the only one believed to be capable and trustworthy for that high level of insanity, and that was the sole reason why he stood before them.

  “I shall put all my strength and soul into it, My Lord!” he remarked, though the mode of difficulty was not new to him, and neither was the challenging situation.

  “I believe in you!” The President’s voice reflected faith and confidence that he always had in the man before him.

  “I wish you fortune!” expressed the lady, passing a warm smile.

  Sebastien expressed his gratitude, and hit the corridor. He had a lot of preparations to make, and as mentioned by the authority—he had a shortage of time and no grounds for failure.

  “Marriages are settled in heaven but celebrated on Earth. The unity of two unknown souls written right from birth”, recited the high priestess, Olivia Starkweather. A dark brown-haired, broad-lipped, tall beauty in her late twenties, she was an alluring woman, with a face that a man might die for. Her sensual curvaceous body was wrapped in a full-sleeved purple gown, and a priceless diamond locket hung down her hoary cleavage. A hazel-eyed luscious figure, and one of the tallest woman, she was the sister of Lord Austin Starkweather, the President of Spion. The night had finally arrived, and everyone was in the rectory to attend the regal marriage of Joanna Maddox to Lord Austin Starkweather. The two joining Houses were the followers of Rasphorism—the largest religion in the three continents, followed by the Ancient Religion and Sceptism.

  The rectories were the sacred mansion where the Rasphoric marriages used to take place, and this one was located a few yards ahead of the Palace of Jewelsberg. It was capacious and magnificent, with long glass windows and a high roof. The refectory was situated next to the big hall, where one could smell the royal dishes and the blood-red wine. The mansion was filled with honourable citizens, all of whom had gathered to witness the grand wedding.

  The high priestess continued, “Marriage is the oneness of two bodies and two souls, who from this day till their end, abide with each other. Marriage is a gift from God to us, and the quality of that marriage is our gift to him”.

  The wedding couple looked at each other and smiled. They stood before the high priestess, who hosted the wedding ceremony.

  Lord Austin Starkweather was a sturdy, middle sized man, some thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating blue eyes. The bridegroom was clad in his elegant suit, with velvet trousers and a sombre bowtie, while the beautiful Joanna looked dazzling in her roseate wedding gown which had deep-red rose fabric designed like the petals of the flower by its shoulders. A thick expensive diamond necklace surrounded her neck, while a similar fancy garland around her head made her look no less than some princess of a fairy tale. Her long silk-like hair covered her back, and the bridegroom simply couldn’t resist her fascinating green eyes.

  Olivia waved at the couple, and they stepped towards the seraphic slab placed right before them in the great hall. They stood facing each other and exchanged their expensive wedding rings. They next placed their hands together on the magnificent seraphic slab and recited together, “Before the Gods of love and fortune, and the sun and the stars that bear witness, I take him/ her, to be my husband/wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. From this day until my end”.

  It was the wedding vow in Rasphorism and the final ritual in the wedding ceremony. It was all over, and there they stood, as the husband and wife. They turned to look into each other’s eyes and the lips met, following which everyone in the hall clapped. The night was beautiful and so was the couple, standing before the crowd.

  “They look fabulous!” compliment Lara Hills, the sister of Jordan and Ashley Hills, and the youngest among her siblings. She was a red-haired lady in her mid twenties, snub-nosed, with cheeks that were flushed with the bloom of the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the Sulphur rose; clad in hoop skirt, and a tight fitting bodice that was boned and slanted to emphasize the waist, detached with white collars and cuffs, and hair caught up in a chignon. She stood beside Barbara in the front row of pews, contemplating the newly-weds.

  “They do”, replied Barbara. She looked marvellous in her fancy velvet gown, with her hair puffed by a beaded butterfly headpiece, and a beautiful
pearl necklace around her neck. She appeared bewitching—the most gorgeous woman in the rectory who was entirely capable of making anyone jealous.

  “It is true what my sister used to say”, began Lara, admiring her extreme beauty, though Barbara never liked it. “You are an excelling Maddox bombshell. My sister and her husband have a lot to speak about you”, she added with a bright glance at her. Admiration was the first impression that Barbara had left on her.

  “I don’t care about anyone speaking of me behind my back!” She wasn’t engrossed in talking to her, not at the least.

  The guests were approaching the newly married couple to greet them, while she stood beside Lara and watched the scene. It was their first ever encounter, as none among them had ever met before, but Barbara remained unaffected.

  “Too beautiful!” interrupted Chris, walking behind the women, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. He had been staring at Barbara the entire ceremony and simply couldn’t resist her. “None can match your beauty”.

  “None can match your nuisance either”, she replied gratingly. Barbara looked irascible and was in no mood to exchange words with either of the two. It was a momentous evening for her, and she did not want it to be ruined. Talking to them was the last thing she would do, and hence, she pardoned herself and proceeded to her bride sister.

  “Is she always like this?” asked Lara. She was by that instance aware of her animosity towards them.

  “She has never liked me,” he replied, though there wasn’t any sign of distress or inefficacy around his face. “I hardly care about what she thinks or feels about me. I find her highly attractive and I want her at any expense.”

  “I am sure your parents must have planned something for it”.

  “I hope they have”.

  “My brother would have loved to join the ceremony with his family, but unfortunately, there are some agitating situations in the Silver Island, and he is stuck to it”.