by L P PATERSON
Everything was blood red. The side panels, pairings, covers and fenders, all were red. The seat and handle grip were black leather while the exhaust, forks, rims and footrest were perfect, polished chrome. I could not stop staring at this beautiful thing. I think I would have stolen it even if I didn't need transport. I could just imagine the smooth rumbling growl that it would make when I turned the key in the ignition.
I turned to look at Cymon, ready for us to mount this beauty and continue our journey. "Cymon. Are you alright?" I asked. Now Cymon was very pale as I suspect most reapers were. But right now, his face looked like freshly bleached paper. His eyes were open wide and his nostrils were flaring. I saw his chest rapidly rising up and down and his arms were clamped to his sides with his hands in fists.
"Cymon. What's wrong?" I asked.
"Audrey. I am so sorry."
"Sorry about what? We have transport now. What's wrong?"
“Audrey. Stop talking and move away from the bike. Now. Please.” his voice was faltering. Almost as if he didn't want to talk or was scared to. I wasn't quite sure what was happening but this was the first time that I had seen Cymon scared. Not good. I took a step towards him. Just one step and then I heard something. Like a whisper in my head. So light and so soft that it was barely there. But I heard it. I Knew that Cymon heard it too because the whisper called him. And he reacted. Reaper. That is what I heard in my head and I saw Cymon look up. But he didn't answer.
"Did you hear that?” I asked him. “You heard it didn't you?”
Reaper. It came again, slightly louder this time but still inside my head. A haunting whisper like dried autumn leaves skittering along a concrete pavement. And I felt total fear fall over me like an oversized blanket. It was the fear that you felt when in your room at night and you hear the slow creaking groan of the bedroom door opening, knowing that you were alone in the house when you had gone to bed.
My whole body then went into an overload of senses. I heard the sounds of screaming men in one ear, quickly followed by the sound of gunfire in the other. I heard the sounds of helicopter blades slicing the air and the stampeding gallop of a thousand horses. I heard the pull of chariot wheels on hard stony gravel and the marching of sandaled foot soldiers on a brick road. Sound after sound abused my ears. The noise of cannon fire and the clashing of metal swords. I looked up and around me, thinking that I had somehow lost my mind. I saw Cymon standing as before. But I could not tell where this noise could be coming from. Was I the only one hearing it?
Then the smell. That was even worse than the noise, which I could still hear. The smell was everything that you hoped you never would have to endure. The scent of sweat and blood attacked my nostrils and I felt them flare open. No doubt a reflex reaction, but all it did was expose me to more of the filthy stench. I could detect heated body waste, the smell of tired horses frothing at the mouth. I smelled rusted metal, petrol, diesel and meat. And worst of all I smelled fear. I felt nauseous as the noise and the smells worked against my stomach, and although there was nothing in it, something was going to come up.
“Cymon, what is happening to me?” I asked. He was still looking very pale and had not moved, like if he had been turned to stone.
“Don't move and don't say anything.” he said. I was confused. I was bent over and not moving and I really didn't have anything to say as I was trying to keep myself from sinking to the ground, which at this point seemed to be such a nice option. I placed my hands on my thighs and slowly drew myself up. I could still hear all the noise and the smells were making me gag. And that tickle of fear that played and blew on the tiny hairs on the back of my neck was getting much bolder.
REAPER! This time it was like a gun went off in my head. My eyes flew open and my head snapped up. About thirty metres up the street was a figure. And it was walking towards us.
Oh Shit!
Nothing good could come of this. The figure slowly moved forwards. Watching it move was breath taking. Really, I forgot to breath as I was so occupied with the movement. It was like watching the clean, controlled and perfect movement of mercury and suddenly understanding why it was also called quicksilver. The figure walked slow but moved fast. As it came closer the noise and smells grew stronger.
And then she was there. Right in front of me. From ten metres to nothing in a millisecond. I would have jumped back I was so scared but my feet seemed to have grown roots which were sinking into the ground as if they also were terrified and seeking somewhere to hide. I could not move.
She briefly looked at Cymon and then turned her eyes to me. She was beautiful. I don't mean common everyday beauty. This woman's beauty was radiating. It was the beauty that you don't forget, that of dreams and make believe. And she wasn't even smiling. She was tall and dressed in tight red leather trousers and a red leather waistcoat. I didn't know what material her clothes were made of as the colour within it seemed to move and ooze like blood. It pulsed and pulled back and then congealed.
Her skin was the deepest purest brown in colour, rich and smooth. Her black hair was styled in the thinnest of braids and hung loose to her mid back. She looked amazing. I knew I was staring but I could not escape the pull of her eyes. They were like deep pools of thick, deep and absolute blackness, and in them I saw the source of all the noise and smells that plagued me. I saw the tanks, the choppers, the horses and the men. The chariots and swords, guns and cannons. I saw the screaming men bathed in sweat and covered in blood. I saw those that were crying and cowering in fear. I saw the dying horses and the dying men. I also saw those who had been victorious, killing, raping and stealing. I saw those that had been defeated being led away in chains and I saw the birds and wolves feasting on bodies. And then... back to black.
Then it all stopped. Instantly. Like a shutter being closed. At the same time my stomach expelled its contents of gastric juices and bile onto a perfectly clean shiny pair of red leather boots.
I think I heard Cymon whimper but I wasn't quite sure because there was a hand around my throat and it was squeezing. This was it. The day that I was going to die. I grabbed at the hand but it was clamped onto my throat like a leech. The small amount of oxygen that was in my lungs sped round my body at light speed and then it was finished. I was out of air. I felt slightly dizzy and must have drooped because my knees were suddenly slack. This bitch was literally holding me up by the throat, and she did it with ease as if the weight of my body was insignificant. And that bastard Cymon stood there watching. Then slowly, as if she enjoyed watching me suffocate, she released her hold and I dropped to the ground coughing and gasping for air, my fingers scraped on my neck as I struggled to remove her touch from my skin.
She turned to Cymon and he shrank back but could not move away. “Where is your scythe Reaper?” she asked. It was a very simple question but no doubt the one question that Cymon didn’t want to hear. Well at this moment in time I had no sympathy for him. He deserved to be choked as well. And if she didn't do it, then I certainly would.
“It is lost. Lady.” he replied. Lady? What did that mean. It was said with every ounce of respect but clearly this woman was someone who Cymon feared.
“Is your master aware?” she asked. No response came from Cymon. A frown crossed her face. I guess Cymon's master, whoever that may be, was in the dark. I hated this woman and one day I was going to show her how much.
She turned to me again, I did not move. “Get up Loci.” she said. I obliged. I did not want to be choked again. I realised that this woman could probably kill me very quickly and easily and I did not want to die.
“Because your Loci is new Reaper...” she said to Cymon. “And she does not yet have any understanding of our world, I'm going to be very nice and allow her this one mistake.”
“'Yes, my Lady. Thank you.” Thank you for what I thought to myself. What does 'very nice' mean to a beautiful psychotic maniac?
“You have fifteen and three Reaper. Don't waste them.” With that she was done. She walked past me very slowl
y, looking me in the eyes, my neck ached as I tilted my head to look up at her as again, I could not look away. Touch my bike again and I will rip your throat out and feed it to you. My mouth dropped open as this special message resonated inside my skull.
She walked to the bike. The beast that I so longed to ride. I saw a faint glow briefly hover on the boots and they were clean again. All of my vomit just vanished as she mounted the beast and sped away.
“Who and what the hell was that?” I rounded on Cymon. “How could you stand there like stone and not help me Cymon? She was strangling me. She was going to kill me.” I screamed at him.
“Well she didn't kill you, did she?” he came back at me.
“What is that supposed to mean? She could have.”
“Well it's your fault!” he shouted. “Why the hell couldn't you leave the bike alone. You don't touch a Horseman's bike.” He was agitated and angry. And so was I.
“What are you talking about?” I shouted at him. “I agreed to help you, and you were going to let me die. You stood watching as she tried to kill me and you want to talk about a bike?”
We were both breathing heavy and were both as angry. I could not understand his anger. I was the one that had almost been strangled. I wouldn't want someone to vomit on my boots either but come on. Get a grip.
“That was War. The second Horseman. And you stole her bike!”
I tilted my head to the side and looked him in the eye, trying to see if maybe he was experiencing some kind of episode. “Maybe you saw someone different” I said. “But for your information, that was a woman. A very beautiful woman yes, but there is currently no war going on. There was no horse. And she tried to kill me!” I said as my voice escalated to an angry scream.
“Seriously Audrey. Do you think they care about gender?” he said “They are ancient, extremely powerful and you pissed her off by stealing her bike.” I looked at him not quite sure how to digest what he had just told me. “Be very clear Audrey. In this world there is a distinct hierarchy. The Horsemen are at the top. I am at the bottom, and even below me... is you.” I rolled my eyes in disgust. “She could have killed you, very easily too.” he continued. “But that is usually reserved for the fourth Horseman and my master. Death.”
“Is that why I heard all those noises and smells?" I asked. He asked me what I had heard and I told him about all the sounds and the smells. I told him about what I saw in the eyes of the Horseman as well. “Didn't you hear it too?” I asked.
“No. I am a child of Death. Fear is the only thing that I feel when the other Horsemen are around. And that is because they all terrify me.”
“How many are there?” I asked.
“There are four Horsemen Audrey.”
"I felt everything Cymon. I heard and smelled centuries of war. Does that make me a child of War?" I asked. I was even more frightened now. I did not want to go through that experience again.
“No. You are a Loci. You are programmed to take in anything that will help your search. You feeling everything is how she knew what you were. She only tried to kill you because you messed up her boots and stole her bike.”
Only! Bloody great. I had stolen the bike and then vomited on one of the most powerful beings in this stupid and dangerous world. We needed to find this scythe, and quick. I wanted my life back.
“What did she mean about fifteen and three?” I asked.
He sighed heavily and I saw his shoulders slump as he slowly shook his head. “Unfortunately, that means that I have only fifteen hours to find my scythe, or the balance will be breached and my master will be told. I can request help three times.”
“So she gets her entertainment by telling on people then.” I stated flatly.
“No. There has to be balance. If I can't reap it means there are souls still tied to their bodies. They can't move on to their next stage. So, it's like a conveyor getting backed up. That creates problems and can lead to Chaos. Which no one wants. I'm grateful that she has given me some time.” he said.
I could see that he was worried, and I wondered what problems he was talking about. But I didn’t ask. His head was bowed and his hands were constantly moving even though they did nothing.
“It's not a lot of time. So Loci which way?” I turned to see him looking at me expectantly. He really had faith in me. I on the other hand thought that this Loci thing was a whole load of shit. I had not found anything yet, apart from a bike which almost got me killed. I sighed heavily knowing that I didn't have any clue as to where we went next. As I breathed in, I got the fresh clean smell of rain on leaves in the summertime. The wet scent of healthy strong trees and the deep earthy smell of rich soil. It was intoxicating and heady and it smelled so good.
“Cymon. I really just wish that I could be in a quiet forest right now. With no worry or fear of Horsemen.”
“Okay. Blackwood Estate then. I can't guarantee quiet though.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked him.
“You said you wanted to be in a forest,” he said. “so our next stop must be the Blackwood Estate. It will bring us closer to my scythe.”
“How is a housing estate going to help our search?” I asked.
“Let’s go Loci.”
CHAPTER 4
We were walking. Again. According to Cymon, the Blackwood Estate was about five miles away. There was no way that I would manage five miles, we had already done about three. I had been forced out of my bed in the middle of the night, there were probably things in my house right now that I didn't want to know about. Mr Peters might be hurt or worse and, I had not eaten since yesterday. I was tired and hungry but I was also very grateful that it was summertime or I would have been freezing as well.
I was conscious of War's warning. We only had fifteen hours to find Cymon's scythe. What happened then? If Death was anything like War, did that mean we would be instantly killed. Or would we just die? Maybe she could kill us by just thinking it. She may not even need to be present. We needed to find that scythe!
"Cymon. We need a plan." I said. "Right now, we just seem to be walking nowhere." Cymon slowed his pace. His long legs came in stride with mine. Although I considered myself to be fairly tall at five feet and nine inches, Cymon was about a good foot taller than I was, and War was at least a few inches taller than him. I wondered if the other Horsemen were the same.
"We are walking to the Blackwood." he said.
"Do we have to walk so fast?" I asked.
"We don't have a lot of time Audrey." Cymon replied. He was scanning the area as if looking for something. I couldn't see anything. It was about six o clock in the morning and the sun had already risen and was starting its daily march across the sky. The lack of sleep was catching up with me. I was tired but I was also anxious to find this scythe. Cymon was still scanning the area and I turned to look behind us, hoping to get an idea of what he was looking for. I saw nothing. I looked back at Cymon. He was frowning. Deep lines crossed his forehead and his lips were scrunched to the side.
"What is it?" I asked. He didn't answer. Instead he turned and started walking again. I quickly followed, glancing behind a few times to make sure nothing was coming after us. After we had walked about a mile Cymon stopped. Suddenly. We were in a quiet area, still in the suburbs and still only a few miles from my own home. The streets were quiet and mostly empty. It was still early. The side street which we were on was lined with terraced houses fronted by cherry trees on the pavement. Cars were still parked in most of the driveways and it was quiet. No doubt the residents were still wrapped up in bed enjoying the remainder of the night’s sleep. It made me think of my own warm bed and the fact that I was not in it.
"We are being followed" Cymon said to me. I felt my head start shaking from side to side. I did not want to hear what he was saying and I was tempted to cover my ears. But he persisted. "I think they are shadow wraiths, but I'm not sure." Bloody great. What the hell were shadow wraiths? As if in answer to my thoughts I saw a small shadow on the pave
ment slab in front of me. I looked up to see if anything was above us but there was nothing. Neither was there anything nearby. Nothing casting the shadow but it was there.
I felt Cymon beside me. "They form from shadows. Wherever the light is missing they will pull the shadows and take shape." As Cymon spoke I watched the shadow on the pavement. It moved. It shifted and stirred as if gathering. And it was. I saw pieces of darkness coming towards it as if to join in a dance of night. The shadow grew and as it did it took shape. Legs and arms formed as it sprouted upwards and then a small lump formed and turned into a grotesque head. There were no eyes, just black shadowy pits where the eyes should be. The mouth was a gaping hole which kept opening and closing. I was transfixed. And then it moved.
Cymon moved past me. I saw his arm come down and a glint of metal sliced through the shadow. A screeching, moaning scream tore from the mouth and the shadow dissolved into several pieces. Each piece skittered away and then started to form into a new shadow wraith. We ran.
"We need to hurry." said Cymon. As if I wasn't already running as fast as possible.
"I'm going as fast as I can Cymon. I can barely breathe." I said.
"Run faster. There aren't too many yet. We can't give them time to form a horde."
"Are you crazy? There are loads of them already." I said.
"But if they make a horde Audrey. We won't survive." he said.
I blinked rapidly while my feet slapped the ground beneath and my chest squeezed. "What do you mean ‘won't survive’? Do you mean we could die?" I asked while panting for breath and cursing not attending the gym more often. Cymon was running full pelt but he still managed to turn and look at me.
"That is what 'won't survive' means Audrey." My pace increased. I was running for my life now. Stamina was quickly outpaced by fear.
