by Lucas Hault
Amanda Layne was always known to be belligerent and excruciating, but at that instance was susceptible and clammed up; while some of the aggression deep within her remained stagnant.
They moved up the spiral stairway, and one among them gently knocked. The door opened and out stepped Britney, who was exultant and magnified to notice the helpless target that had been captured.
“We need to see Lord Antonio Calaway,” said one of the guards. The secretary nodded and got them into her chamber. They waited, as she knocked and entered the Dictator’s suite.
Amanda stood helpless and still. She had always been aware of the ferocious and galled nature of the Dictator. If minor errors were punished so sternly, then what would be the fate of this arch rebel? It struck a chill in her heart, while her body shivered with this torturing thought. She could hear some of the secretary’s whispers behind the door which made her heart race. She was indeed short-tempered and impatient, but at that instance, she was frozen and close-mouthed. Everything appeared still, while every single moment looked like an hour. It was her end and she stood numb, before the door opened and Britney reappeared before them.
“The Dictator wants to see the woman alone,” said she and took her within. The secretary’s last words were too fearsome and it almost choked the life out of her. She slowly, with her trembling footsteps entered the suite.
She could sense the mighty Dictator sitting on his chair, though she did not have the heart to look up into his eyes. She stood before the his table and could feel him staring at her. Dying at that moment looked much easier than confronting the man.
“Miss Layne”, called the heavy voice. “You can have your seat”. It sounded gentle. He was so kind and different that she looked him in the eyes.
A part of her was highly confounded to hear him speak. She had expected something different, but definitely not this. She had the cognition about being shot dead, or being thrown into a lake full of meat eaters, or perhaps being burnt alive, or worse. But fortunately, things appeared different, and the look on his face shocked her much more than anything.
“Don’t be afraid”, he mentioned, gazing at her as she stood still and appalled. “Have your seat”.
She hesitantly, with her shaking steps, moved ahead, lying down her haunches on the chair before his table. Her lips trembled, her hand quivered and she showed every sign of intense inward agitation.
“You see it Miss Layne?” he said. “I am kind.”
His words admonished her about that rancorous and unrelenting scene of the Valley of Gilbert. The wails and squalls of the poor souls still echoed in her ears, and soon did her animosity and combativeness, overwhelmed everything. She could feel the regrowing spark of rebellion deep down her chest.
“Since when have kind men began hunting down the innocents like animals?” she replied vigorously, though she still did not have the audacity to raise her voice.
Antonio smiled abstrusely. “You belong from Jewelsberg, right?”
“I do”, she replied instantaneously.
“Have you ever come across any subsistence dilemma at any point in your entire life?” She shook her head, though still unaware of his conception.
“Who exactly do you postulate to be responsible behind this?”
“I appreciate the authority and the administration behind it”.
“They don’t,” he remarked sonorously. “These people live in my land and eat from the provisions here and breathe my air, and yet they praise my enemy. You, just like some others, have a false reputation of mine. I am kind to my believers, who live every moment of their life prosperously. But God forbade the fate of the ones disbelieving”. He sounded malignant and alarming.
“There are other possible ways to deal with the problem besides killing,” she replied steadily. “Killing someone can never be the key to any of your dispute. It does no good but complicates things further.”
“Are you trying to say that the punishment for treason should be scolding rather than death?” he asked insultingly.
“I never meant that”, she opposed.
“But you did”, he interrupted. “Ramons are traitors, and killing them doesn’t mean the slaughter of innocents. None of them are innocent but accused of treason. And the only punishment for treason is death, and the act of questioning it is no less than an offence”.
She spoke nothing further but remained on her hips with her head bent low.
“Tell me Miss Layne?” he continued. “What do you expect in return for this act of yours?” He sounded alarming, but no longer did he scare her. She had accepted her fate and was prepared to embrace death.
“A small piece of land for my permanent stay!” she replied.
“You do not need to hurry. I told you before that I am kind. I give you a week in the prison to think about it. You either join me and live a royal life like never before, or reject and have your wish being fulfilled”.
It was again something unexpected, drowning her eyes deep in astonishment, as she got back to her feet and proceeded towards the door.
“One more thing”, he mentioned, following which she stopped. “The days down in the cell won’t be easy to pass. Each and every single day shall look like a year. And you will have enough time to differentiate between the actual and the false reputation of mine”.
She looked a little bothered, as Britney took her out of the office door. The two left, following which the commander, Steve Curzon, made his way into the office. He got in and took his seat before the Dictator.
Antonio Calaway had always regarded the commander Steve Curzon as his father, ever since the death of his own. Antonio was too young at that time and had grown up under his care.
“Why did you leave her alive?” asked Steve surprisingly. Never ever was a traitor given a second chance. Death was the only return for their deed, until now, where the one liable was given a choice between life and death, which actually made no sense to him.
“Did you not look her into the eyes?” he replied. He sounded absolutely different and pitied. “She was so fearful and worried that she reminded me of Cara, the lady I loved. She meant life to me and was my only desire”.
Antonio Calaway was the man who was deeply in love with Cara Carmel; the lady he met in Spion. The two loved each other and were willing for marriage, but unfortunately, their fate was against it, as she died of some illness. He couldn’t bear it, and that was the sole reason for him to remain unmarried for the rest of his life.
“I know your love for Cara, but you have to move on”, began the commandant. “You have to marry someone because you need a successor, before someone else comes up with their claim over your position”.
“I know who you speak of”.
“No you don’t!” He sounded disparate. Antonio looked up only to see the similar flare in his baleful eyes.
“You look troubled”, said Ella. She was seated next to Barbara, before the beautiful fountain in the garden. Ella, a maiden similar in age as hers, was a fragile brunette with small brown eyes. A woman with an average complexion, with freckles all over her face, the faded lengthy frock hung loosely over her body. She used to work in the Palace and was a close friend of Barbara. She was the closest to her, following her elder sister Joanna.
Barbara did not speak but remained quiet, though the look of vexation round her face remained.
“My mother used to say that the only way to relieve the burden of pain or affliction is by sharing them”. Ella was always known to be calm, and her words sounded alleviating and serene.
Barbara peeked into her eyes. “I had that same dream for the third time.” She looked distressed and perplexed, as she continued, “I saw this enticing Palace in destruction, with burning walls and stains of blood everywhere around. Everyone was in pain and agony, and I could see myself standing helpless before the enemies. It all appeared harrowing, and I could sense myself in the arms of death”. She was agitated, sobbing internally at the thought of her own impotence.
“That was simply a dream and it shouldn’t bother you”, explained Ella. “Dreams are considered to be a fool’s paradise that has nothing to do with reality.”
“I wish I could perceive the same, but the dilemma with me has always been different. I have always feared my dreams. They have always haunted me around.” Her dreams had some or the other significance with reality, though she never had any dream of destiny, unlike this one. She had a hunch, and never neglected it, not after having it a straight third time. She wanted to tell everyone but unfortunately, none was going to believe it, and she knew it well within herself. It was always her elder sister Joanna, who believed them, but she was married and gone, and speaking to anyone other than her was nothing but a waste of time.
Ella could feel her ecstasy. She had known her for a long time and was well aware of her grimace. She in her low-pitched voice, began, “I was just twelve when I had a dream about my mother’s death. The dream was so unpalatable and strangling that I could not sleep the whole night. The next morning I actually found her dead. It was the day that destroyed my life. I lived with it every day and blamed myself all the time. It killed me every single day and crucified my soul every single night. I could never forgive myself, until one night, when I had the same dream. I saw my mother smiling at me. She said that she loved me, and I had absolutely nothing to do with her death. It was then when I learned that she died of an incurable malady, about which she had never told me anything. That was the day which relieved my burden and taught me the actual meaning of life”.
“Did you ever dream about your mother again?” she asked, being induced to hear her friend speak.
“I never saw her again. But the little encounter with my mother in that dream had completely changed my life. It was the day when I realized that dreams are intimidating only if we believe them to be.”
“You were fortunate to have spent your childhood with your mother. I had swallowed the life of mine for my own selfish existence”, said Barbara, gulping in her throat to keep down her grief.
“You should not forget that little encounter with your mother in your dream,” reminded Ella.
“Can I ask you something?” asked Ella ambiguously. Barbara nodded.
“Do you seriously remember all of your dreams?” She sounded moronic.
The look of inanity on the girl’s face made Barbara smile. “I do”.
“Do you remember your very first dream and the time when you had it?”
She nodded. Ella was indeed puzzled, giving a cry of astonishment at her words. She remained seated anxiously and listened. Barbara continued, “The occurrence of my dreams was simultaneous to my conscious handling. I was approximately four or less, when I had my first dream. It was one of the most pleasant dreams that I ever had. It was a full moon and I saw my parents along with Joanna, standing by a beautiful garden of roses. Joanna was too small and was in my father’s arms. They stood by the garden, before a resplendent fountain, when a dazzling unicorn appeared before them, with a newborn on its back. The infant was cloaked in an expensive fabric of silk. My mother raised the small one in her arms and kissed her, and called her Barbara”. She was convivial and delighted recalling it.
“What sense did it make?”
“I used to think the same, until I finally decided to set my foot in the library and turn some pages”. She had never actually been the one accustomed to read and had never possibly thought that she ever would. But her immersion into the avocation proved sudden, and since then she had loved it.
“What?” asked Ella. Her features were dull, and she constantly failed to elaborate any possible hint.
“I had seen myself on the back of that unicorn. And peculiarly the day when I was born, falls into the year of the unicorn in the Holferian calendar. It is the only year in that calendar to have repeated itself”.
The fragile Ella was startled, staring at her with her parted lips.
The Holferian calendar was an uncommon calendar, where five normal years constituted a single Holferic year. Each year in that calendar was named after an animal, which had its own significance that was explained in Reyalm, the holy book of the Holves. None of the years in that calendar did ever repeat itself, except one—the Year of the Unicorn.
It occurred once, a millennium ago from Barbara’s birth, when the Holferian Prophet Lord Ravenrocus descended the earth to battle the Evil. It was he who had mentioned the reoccurring of the year and warned mankind against the upcoming.
“Do you know the Holferian calendar?” Ella had been taken aback to come across the term.
She nodded. Everything about Holfism had always attracted her, but she was the one least interested to set a quest for their exploration.
“What year does it demonstrate at present?” inquired Ella.
“The year of the Dark Bear”, she replied. “The world has crossed a large part of this year, and the final one shall follow shortly.” A prolonged silence followed next, and she saw the perspiring lengthened face of Ella.
“What does the final one mean?” Ella was perturbed, and some of it flashed in her eyes.
“I do not know anything rather than the name”, she replied manifestly. “You never believed in the stuff and it shouldn’t bother you either”.
“It doesn’t”. Ella pretended. She was one among them, who avoided reflecting their weakness before anyone. “Did you speak to your sister?” she asked, switching the topic as she had no further engrossment to continue in that regard.
“I did,” she replied, smiling cunningly, as she was familiar with her bustle. “She is in high spirits and relishing the glamour of Spion. She says she would soon be inviting me there.”
“Will you take me with you?” Ella asked her in a voice which was broken as much by emotion as by pain. She had no one to care for her. Her father was long dead, and her brother was the only one left with her, following her mother’s bereavement. She loved him wholeheartedly, but unfortunately, he evicted her from their small property to live alone with his newly married wife. The poor girl had nowhere to go and lived by the street, until she was noticed by the two sisters. Barbara appointed the girl for her own service and brought her into the Palace. The two had known each other since then and remained to be close friends.
“You never need to ask”, replied Barbara instantaneously. “You will surely be the only one to accompany me wherever I go”. She sounded amiable, like always, and that itself made her joyous. Ella had always felt revived and lightened around her, loving her company every time.
“I only have one more query?” She had always wanted to inquire about it, but every time either the topic was switched, or she forgot. But this time she was strongly determined, and Barbara could guess it right, judging by the bawdy look on her face.
“Hasn’t the dreaming beauty ever dreamed about her man?” she asked naughtily.
Barbara pretended to think something for a while, before shaking her head. “I have never exactly dreamt about a jackass”, she replied and the two burst out in laughter.
Borkan had always been aggressive every single time that he discovered tyranny. The men had just stepped out of Cade Brown’s residence, proceeding back towards the streets.
“There is something that I wish to tell you,” said Owen. The woman’s last words echoed in every corner of his mind, resounding time and again. “Actually I should have told you this before, but it literally slipped out of my mind”.
“What the hell!” Borkan cut him off. He was astounded to see the roads deserted. The road which was occupied with certain people moments ago was now still and haunted. There was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, except the wide deserted streets and the long sandy roads. The stalls were all shut closed, while the houses sealed.
“What exactly is going around here?”
“I have something to tell”, mentioned Owen. He looked bothered as if something struck his mind the last moment. Borkan stared him in the eyes. Owen was about to complete when t
he loud roar of the nearing enduros interrupted, making the dust fly. The frequency of sound increased every passing moment, and Borkan could feel the vibrating surface beneath his feet. His heart raced, while hands turned cold. The sound of the heavy footsteps punched his senses every single time, tensing his nerves within.
The moving enduros and the footsteps ceased, just like that appalling time in the town of Gubby. The dust flying around the sandy area had settled, and the view was as clear as crystal. Borkan’s eyes fell upon them which made every nerve of his body tingle within him. His face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. His mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch.
There they stood, before his eyes. The weird creatures whom Owen had seen before. The burly dreaded figures. More like creatures than men. The ghastly ones, with bulging dark eyes. The Grim Reapers. They had a bearded, hairy face, with wild cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence. Their lower body was thin and narrow, while the upper portion was brute and bruising. Their skin resembled a sandy tint and was thick, thicker than that of a beast, covered in wrinkles. The nails were long and sharp, while the small skull with untidy hair looked peerless over their bulky bodies. The Grim Reapers were taller than both of the men, and sinewy as well.
“This was what I intended to say!” whispered Owen.
“You should have mentioned it before”.
The Reapers stood surrounding them, with their abdomens covered in some skirt-like garment that clasped their thighs, while the bare skin appearing as hard as rock. If their appearance did not frighten the victims to death, at least it does paralyze the resistance which might be offered. The Grim Reapers were much in numbers, perhaps exceeding thousand.
