Reaper

by Wesley Brown

  “Shut up. Get out of my head,” Reaper said.

  Asterion let out a great roar. The Reaper shook, holding the scythe in both hands. The beast banged his hands on his chest, reared up, and charged at Reaper. Instead of holding his ground as he had planned, Reaper jumped to his left. Asterion crashed into the wall, and again Reaper ran.

  “Which way is it?” Death asked, mocking the Reaper. “Which way? Was it left or right? Oh no, wait—I remember, it was straight.”

  “Leave me alone!” the Reaper screamed.

  “You threatened me. I will make your life Hell on Earth until you bend to my will,” Death growled. The monster had gotten free, and was now chasing down the hall after the Reaper. “You cannot outrun it for long.”

  Reaper stopped and dove toward Asterion. The creature ran right over him and crashed into the wall at the end.

  “I remember. Yes!” Reaper shouted. He grabbed the scythe and ran back the way he’d come. He turned right, then right again. His movements seemed erratic to the beast, who could not predict where he was going.

  Reaper had made it to the center of the labyrinth. “Theseus? Theseus, are you in here?”

  “Over here.” Theseus’ voice emerged from the shadows. “How did you get here? I heard that monster smashing walls and roaring.”

  “It isn’t important right now,” Reaper said. “Where is the trap?”

  “I do not have one yet,” Theseus answered. “I was thinking when you came in.”

  “I do not think we have much time left,” Reaper said.

  “There is nothing in this room to use as a weapon or bait,” Theseus said. He looked at the scythe and Reaper, then up at the four rectangular holes at the top of the room.

  “We should hide in one of those holes, then take Asterion by surprise,” Theseus suggested. Reaper helped Theseus up into one of the secret passageways, then handed the scythe up to Theseus. As he was stretched out with both hands in Theseus’s, Asterion walked in.

  “Pull me up!” the Reaper screeched.

  They were too late. The tired beast saw the Reaper and charged him again. The entire labyrinth was filled with the haunting scream the Reaper let out as he was stapled to the wall with an enormous horn through his back and chest. Theseus let go in utter panic. After all, what man could come away from a wound like that? The Reaper’s blood poured out. Asterion pulled back with the Reaper still on the horn, his blood dripping down. The beast shook Reaper off and turned its gaze up toward Theseus.

  “Get. Down,” Asterion moaned. A tear rolled down Theseus’s cheek as he looked at his seemingly defeated friend. The hole in his chest knitted itself together… This was the smallest of the powers the Reaper wields. Theseus froze still in place, certain he was hallucinating. The beast was still fixated on Theseus. Asterion stood on his back legs and balanced on the wall. He reached up at Theseus, who seemed to have forgotten how to move in his shock.

  “Beast!” the Reaper shouted. Asterion turned his head to look over his shoulder at the Reaper. The monster growled and backed down off the wall, rearing and roaring with terrible rage. The great creature charged the Reaper. This time, Reaper leaped at Asterion, who took the Reaper in his mighty arms and thrust him against the wall, strangling him. One useless punch after another Reaper threw, but they were barely noticed by Asterion.

  Death stood with his cloaked, bony arms crossed, staring at the Reaper losing to the beast. Reaper finally switched tactics from punching the creature, instead beginning to strangle it like it was him. Asterion put both hands on Reaper’s throat and squeezed. The Reaper’s face was red and then blue, but without a breath left in him, he was still just as determined to kill the beast of Crete as it was to kill him. This action surprised Death, who dropped his arms and came close to Reaper.

  “That’s it,” Death said. “Finish it. Kill him.”

  The Reaper did not want to give in to the wishes of Death. He knew that the intentions of Death were of great malice. But even though it meant that he would fulfill Death’s wish, Reaper knew just as well that killing Asterion was the only way he would escape this prison.

  Reaper let go of Asterion’s throat.

  “What? No, kill that thing!” Death demanded.

  Reaper reached as far as he could and pulled the long black hair of the beast. Asterion screamed and loosened his grip. Reaper then planted his thumbs into Asterion’s eyes and pushed until the creature’s eyes popped. Asterion’s screams grew to rival that of the one Reaper had let out when he was impaled. He dropped Reaper and covered his wounds with his hands. As Reaper took in deep breaths, returning air to his parched lungs, the monster fell to its side, whimpering in pain. Reaper stood and approached Asterion, then crouched to a straddle over the fallen beast. Reaper took the horn of the creature in his hand, pulling its head. Death watched, practically salivating with expectation. Reaper threw one punch after another, powerful and swift, unloading a consistent beating on one concentrated area. Asterion cried out in pain, and as Reaper continued this savage act, there came the sounds of tendons and bones snapping. Flesh and muscle ripped away, soon followed by chips of bone. Blood splashed out with a squishing sound.

  Theseus slowly approached the Reaper. He reached out and put his hand on the Reaper’s shoulder, and the Reaper turned violently, lifting his blood-covered fist, ready to fight. Theseus moved back.

  “Friend, you have won,” Theseus said. “You may take your prize.”

  Theseus held forward the scythe. The Reaper stood, taking the scythe from Theseus, then turned to the dead beast. He braced his foot on one side of Asterion’s neck, then swept the head off in one quick motion with his scythe, dragging it by the horn.

  By the time they reach the boulder that blocked the entrance, all had left except the guards who always stood there. The guards stood mindlessly, as nothing seemed to ever happen there. Not many people would try to break into the labyrinth. Then, both were met with a strange occurrence—something that neither they nor any other guard had ever heard. There was a knock. They looked at each other and then at the boulder. Another knock, followed by another.

  “Get the king,” one told the other. The guard returned with the king, and a crowd came too. The king commanded the boulder be removed. For precaution, twenty men armed with spears stood in front of the king and the Cretan people. As the boulder was rolled away and light pushed the shadows of the labyrinth back, Theseus and the Reaper emerged. The scythe in Reaper’s right hand rested upon his shoulder, and he dragged the blood-drenched head of Asterion behind him by a horn . The people were astonished, and the king devastated.

  “Murderers!” the king cried. “You’ve killed him. Take them away!”

  “No!” Theseus called, putting his arms out. “We made it to the center and killed the beast. There is your proof.” He pointed to the severed head. “By your word, we are set free. Though you could break your word in secret, you made this vow before the witness of you people. My friend and I shall take request of you.”

  “You would dare make demands of me?” the king asked, baffled.

  “We killed the most feared creature known to you; we can kill for our demands should you refuse us,” Theseus said. The Reaper knew Theseus probably wanted him to back him up, but he didn’t know what to say. How could he take credit for killing such a feared creature? It hadn’t been the real him. It had been this monstrous power the Scepter had given him.

  “What one request would you each make?” the king asked reluctantly.

  “Youth of Athens are free of your wretched sacrifices,” Theseus said.

  “It is done,” the king said. “And to what do I owe the slayer of Asterion?”

  Reaper looked at the king. “You will give me anything I wish?”

  “Do not,” Death commanded.

  “Anything within reason,” the king answered.

  “I seek passage to Memphis, in Egypt,” Reaper stated.

  “I will have a small ship with a few men prepared for you,” th
e king said. Reaper and Theseus journeyed together until they came to a fork in the road, where they knew their paths would split forever.

  “I must know before I go,” Theseus said. “The things I saw you do in the labyrinth… those are not things of man.”

  “What are you saying?” Reaper asked.

  “Are you the child of a god?” Theseus asked.

  The Reaper smiled. “Not to my knowledge. My father was a Spartan before me.”

  “You have been gifted, my friend. Whatever it is you seek to find in Memphis, I pray that you find it,” Theseus said.

  At that, Theseus and the Reaper were parted. The Reaper traveled south, accompanied by a courier from the king’s palace. It was not long before Reaper found his way aboard a southbound vessel. He thanked the courier and the crew for their assistance. He was given bronze-colored rags—not much, but more than he’d had. He kept the red hood to go over his clothes. During the time of the passage, the men asked Reaper why it was he was receiving free passage to Egypt by request of the king. The Reaper then told a different version of what had actually happened. Still unsure of his power and not wanting word of him to be spread. This painted the picture that Theseus had been the one to slay the monstrous creature and making himself sound like he’d only navigated the maze and distracted the beast. Even this gained him much respect from the men. They fashioned him a leather sheath for the blade of the scythe and a sturdy piece of wood to tie the scythe to. During the time of the voyage, the cold, irritated voice of Death persistently whispered curses and discouraging remarks toward the Reaper.

  The Cretans left the Reaper at the docks of Rhakotis and wished him well. He was left with a day’s worth of bread and wine. For the journey that still lay before him, this was not much. There were complications involved with the Reaper making his way to Memphis. It took time—roughly seven months. Language barriers made asking for directions difficult. Then, there was a brief incident with a pod of hippopotami. When he finally made it to Memphis, he was pleased. Reaper stood at the top of a dune outside the city to the north. Footprints led up behind the Reaper, but not behind Death.

  “How do I find this man?” Reaper asked.

  “You, find him?” Death asked mockingly. “You are prey, and prey doesn’t find its hunter. He likely already sees you.”

  “I have told you to be silent, have I not?” Reaper asked.

  “You are strong-willed, but how long can that last?” Death posed this to Reaper, who did not understand what exactly he meant.

  Reaper went into the city to ask around for the man. He would describe the man he saw from what he saw which was not much. This plus the language complication led to Reaper sitting with his hood down and his head resting in his hands. “What was I thinking?”

  Death bent down to the Reaper. “I am sure that the Specter would be happy to take you back despite your childish actions.”

  “Would he rid me of this curse at once?”

  “Certainly not.”

  Suddenly, a young man in a shendyt and sandals crouched next to the Reaper. It was the young Blink.

  “I know who you are looking for,” Blink said in the Reaper’s natural tongue.

  The Reaper looked up at him.

  “Come, follow me.”

  The Reaper got up and followed the young man.

  “He is the bait,” Death said to the Reaper. “Follow him, and we’ll both die. Why do you ignore me?”

  Blink led the Reaper toward the edge of the city to a solitary tent.

  “Please, come in,” Blink said, holding the fold open. The Reaper entered cautiously. “Please go fast, it’s hot out here.”

  Reaper entered, and was surprised at what he saw. Some kind of translucent blue film lined the tent walls. There was a small metal box shaking and making horrible noises. The air inside was cold to the Reaper’s skin. There was a table made of an unknown material, with strange things on it.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Blink said, gesturing at a bean bag chair. He then walked to a shiny black box. He opened it, and white light came out, as well as visibly cool air.

  “What in Hades is that thing?” Death screamed.

  “Want a drink?” Blink asked.

  “A drink?” Reaper asked.

  “Holy crap you can talk,” Blink teased. “I was getting worried you weren’t the guy I was sent to find after all.”

  “Who am I to you?” Reaper asked with wide eyes, staring at the metal box making that horrible noise.

  “If you are who I think you are, I’ve been sent to help you,” Blink said.

  “Were you sent by an elder man?” the Reaper asked, still staring at the box.

  “I was,” Blink answered. “Uh, hey man.”

  Reaper looked over at Blink.

  “Would you like me to shut down the generator?”

  “What?” Reaper asked.

  “That thing.” Blink pointed at the noisy metal box. “Would you like me to make it stop?”

  “Is that possible? It isn’t alive? Or are you going to kill it?” Reaper asked. Blink walked over to the generator and pressed the off switch, and the noises stopped.

  “Man, I think I made a huge mistake bringing all of this,” Blink said, his wide eyes on the Reaper. “So, are you gonna sit?”

  “On that?” Reaper asked, pointing at the bean bag chair.

  “Yes. It’s a chair,” Blink said. “Did you want a drink? I got water, milk, and coke.”

  Reaper had put the scythe down and was now attempting to sit on the bean bag chair, crouching with one leg on either side of it. When straddling the chair didn’t feel right to him, he tried laying on top of it like a plank, both arms held stiffly out to the sides.

  “Just sit, dude. Let’s say you want water for now.”

  Reaper finally let loose and fell back on the bean bag chair. The feeling and sound was more than enough to terrify both him and Death, who was checking out the mini-fridge. Death ran over to Reaper.

  “Is it a weapon?” Death asked frantically.

  “No,” Reaper said, standing to his feet.

  “It’s all good, stay chill. Bean bag chairs aren’t for everyone,” Blink said, holding out an open bottle of water.

  “You say you were sent by the man I met,” Reaper said. “He said he could help me.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Blink said.

  “I want him. You’re just a child. I believe he knew how to help me,” Reaper said.

  “Uh-huh, right.” Blink bit his lip. “I am him—a younger him. He—I—couldn’t physically make the trip anymore, so he sent a younger version of himself. I guess I have trust issues in the future. I can do my best to help you.”

  Then get that thing out of my head,” the Reaper said, pointing at Death. “Its voice is going to make me mad.”

  Blink raised an eyebrow, staring at this wild-eyed man who was jabbing a finger at absolutely nothing. “Jeez, nobody said anything about him being schizophrenic,” he muttered to himself.

  “You don’t see him?” Reaper demanded.

  “There’s… there’s nobody there.”

  Death snickered callously. “You’ve gone mad, Reaper.”

  “I have not!” Reaper glared daggers at the insulated wall.

  “Hey,” Blink said. “Maybe we should sit and talk.” He brought out a folding chair, and the Reaper sat in it. Blink leaned forward on his knees and took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. First, the things you see in here are for your eyes only. I thought this stuff would help prove that I’m from the future.”

  “I believe you,” the Reaper said.

  “Good. That means we can get started,” Blink said. “I was sent to help mold you into a great hero. Someone worthy of more than just myth or legend. I happen to have a list of people and events that will help me help you.”

  “First, we will find my wife and child, then take my revenge on Alexander for what he has done to me,” Reaper said.

  “About that… this is a littl
e awkward,” Blink said. “I can’t let you go back for them.”

  “What?” Reaper growled.

  “Just hear me out,” Blink said. “If you found them, it would be the first step on a long road to being the greatest threat that our world has ever known.”

  “How? What would be so wrong with having a little happiness in my life?” Reaper asked.

  “You can’t die, but in time, they will. Your grief will take over, and you’ll go on a murderous rampage,” Blink said.

  “I would never,” Reaper insisted.

  “You already have. I’m from the future, remember?” Blink said.

  “Then Alexander. Surely my vengeance may be satisfied.” Reaper seemed to smack his lips.

  “Sorry man, he’s not on the guest list.”

  “Guest list?”

  “My list of people and events. Think about it this way. Alexander the Great is going to go as far east as he can and die in India. If you kill him first, his empire will fall apart. Should it fall apart too soon other empires will not come into their power in the right time. People, places, languages, and religions would be altered. A change to history that would cascade into the depths of time.” Reaper turned away. “We change the past for the betterment of history, not for our own agenda. That’s what the list is for, to keep us both on the right track.”

  “This is his fault. You want me to let him go free?” Reaper clinched his fists. “He should suffer as I am.”

  “One day, you’ll be happy, I’m sure. But today, you need to hurt. We’re gonna use that hurt to make you into something amazing.”

  “Something,” Reaper said quietly, looking down. “What is it that I must do?”

  “You should work on not getting too connected to people or things. In my time, you are still around, and that’s a long time from now. Everything you know today will be gone in a hundred years. Even those things will be changed in another hundred-plus years,” Blink said, without thinking how this might affect Reaper. The Reaper just looked down, shaking his head.

  “Will I ever see my family again?” the Reaper asked.

  “Not likely,” Blink said. “But it should comfort you to know that you’ll be making the world a safer place for them.”