The Lone Ranger Chapter 4

4.

Lance packed up and left again for the darker continent. On the long voyage back to the adopted land of his own staying, he had reflected on his only brother, Lambert. He was born a year earlier and was the son that the father ever wished for. He was strong and above all, powerful in his presence among the miners and workers. He followed the father on the visits there and when he was old enough to ride, he visited them by himself. He had won the respect of those under him with his fair handling of disputes and his tougher fists that matched some of the bigger and more experienced boys. He was given his first rifle and within a short time, he was hunting with the adults.

Not for Lance. The second son was a weakling and shied from the fights. He preferred to talk his way out or at worse win their charms with his illustrations. He was adept at the pencil and nothing was beyond his skill. He always stood behind his brother until the death of the old man. Lance was sent off to study in the Main Continent of the English folks and from there, he ventured into the inner lands as far as the eastern desert and down along the coasts to the edge of the world. He finally found his home at the darker continent and delved into his desire for illustrations.

It was not long during the voyage when he found his calling.

The the sea was choppy that night and that made his stay at above deck akin to holding onto a swinging rope on a pendulum. He grabbed his overcoat and dragged himself to the main deck. The place was deserted with the other guests all interned like him before. He grabbed hold of the railings to reach the port side. He stood there to let the wind coat his face with the moisture from the coming storm. He had stood there to view the waves and tried to translate it into the pencil illustration.

It came then without a warning.

Lance felt the grip on his neck. It was tight and cutting off his breathing. He reached up with his hands and found nothing on his neck but his own fingers. He stepped back until he felt the ship wall and then his body went face down. He landed on his face and felt the pull on his body towards the railings. He struggled hard on the unseen hands and felt the other danger was a cold wet death in the waters. He pulled up his legs and thrashed them out wildly. His left leg caught on a sail chair that was rooted in the deck for safety reasons. His left foot reached out for the secure hold and then he heaved himself back. It was a tussle of the will and strength. Just when he thought that both were diminishing, he heard a cry. The deckhand was on patrol and rushed over to assist him. The firm hands of the staff then had him pulled back to the wall and into the corridor.

“You are safe now, lad. Thank God I was on the rounds.” The Irish man with the redhead beamed a smile over with his right hand holding the wooden cross then. “You can’t be too careful with the sea. There are sirens and above all, the giant squid that could swallow a ship. I had seen them before, and it was handy for me to have the extra pint I took then.”

Lance thanked the man and made his way to his room. He staggered in and then lay on his bunk. He reached for the wooden cross given to him by Father Dennis. The note that came with it was short but reassuring.

“God is with you always.”

Lance had wished for more but his since his return, he found his endeavors dried up like the Sahara Desert. His nights were with nightmares and he will wake up in sweats. His nightmare was the same; the running from the creatures that wanted to drink his blood. He fought them off but the creatures were getting bolder and bigger. His desperation with the lack of opportunities and his failing health prompted him to find alternative peace or works. The latter were few but the means to carry it out were fewer. He was not as strong like Lambert and his gun skills were off-target most times. So he sought the peace on the plains among the creatures; stalking and then watching them yet his pencils will not produce for him the beauty of the creatures. Instead, they showed him the ugly sides; the killings and the devoured. He soon left the pencil and traveled afar. It was seen to be far and yet it was near to reach.

“White Ranger, you have seen the signs and now return to us.” Lance looked at the lean figure that had approached him on the plains. He was back on the same spot when he sighted the lions then.

“There is no fear of us but what we make you the fearful one. Our King had guided us to bestow on you the gifts of protection. He also told us to give you the gift of power over evil.”

“No, I need not your gifts.” Lance had refused it then. He had heard of the many native’s remedies and he found them repulsive or fake.

“In hare I have my gift here.” Lance showed the wooden cross hung on his chest. “My God will protect me.”

“Your God is indeed protecting you. He has led you here so that you will be given the new friends to help you, even the King himself needed them in his days when steel and shields were of no use. God created the world and the things in it. He had many helpers to do it but not all had the same vision. He had asked for good but evil was to flourish from it. He cannot undo what the good had done but he had worked on the ways to blunt the ways of evil. There will be no more mass cleansing like the great waters for even then it did not quell the evil that good had brought. As he is God, he knows that good and evil will battle to the end of his creations as his creations have battled among themselves. For that, he had seen the need for good to be protected so that it will overcome evil.”

“You are one of the goods that God has seen. As the King of ours, he was also good. Like him, you will battle the evil and restore good.” The native toned down his voice so that the chants on the others in the circle could be heard. “They called for you to come into the circle.”

Lance found himself walking into the circle. He felt his clothes removed and then himself afloat in the circle. The chanting went on in a higher tone and then the skies above Lance evolved into a swirl of clouds that reached to the top. He felt his body lifted and then it was turned in different directions. He wanted to call out but his voice was stifled by the chants. His limbs were stretched to the limits and then moved as if he was walking on air. The pace picked up and then he found himself running on air. Just as it had started, the whole thing ended and Lance found himself standing on the ground. The circle of natives was not there anymore but there was another who still stood there.

“Son, you are now one of us. You are given a gift that only the few will hold. Do the good and vanquish the evil.” The figure was Father Dennis. “I will see you at the stone hut where you go when you wanted to alone.”