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 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 of
illustrations.
It was not long during
the voyage when he found his calling.
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 over coat 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 portside. 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 to the deck for safety reason. His left feet reached out
for the secure hold and then he heaved himself back. It was a tussle of the
will and strength. Just when he though that both was diminishing, he heard a
cry. The deck hand 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 red head 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 narry 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 later was few but the means to carry it
out was 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 travelled 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 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 have led you here so that you will be given the 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
good that God has seen. Like the King of ours, he was also good. Like him, you
will battled 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
lifting and then it was turning 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. 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. 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.”
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