The Rise Of The Saviour - 28 The crimson of blood

A gasp of air left his mouth as he slumped on the ground. His eyes looked blank as if the soul had been stolen. His lips quivered and could only utter,

“Jerome !”

And suddenly the sky which was lit up by the brilliant blazing sun turned grim. Dark clouds started engulfing the sun as if they were wrapping it in the shroud of death.

Drops of lonely tear started streaming down the face of Morpheous as he saw Jerome fall down. Blood was gushing out from his chest, where the arrow had pierced him. He saw him raise his hand briefly and heard him say,

“Morphe…..”

And then his hand also silently came down to rest on the ground.

“Noooo….”

Screamed Morpheous.

That gut-wrenching cry of pain was so loud that it scared every living being around. The soldiers who were advancing ahead suddenly halted.

And then there was rain!

Just like Balthazaar had warned them. They remembered his words that he spoke before they left the kingdom,

“Mark my words, the sun will shine bright only till the time death doesn’t decide to appear. Becasue once it does, it will not spare anyone, neither the sun nor you. I do not intend to scare you but if you dear your life, then just run. Do not dare to stand under the shroud of death. Do not act valiantly for it will serve no purpose.”

And as they remembered, they stalled.

They saw the man get up and pace ahead.

He knelt next to Jerome and lifted his head to place it on his lap. Carefully he pulled the arrow from his chest and covered the wound with his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Get up Jerome!”

“Jerome get up. We need to fight Jerome!”

As tears ran down his cheeks, he screamed at Nicholas,

“Give me the herbs. Any herb. Anything that you can?” Then turning in the direction of Damianos he yelled,

“Why aren’t you saving him? Why my hands aren’t healing him now? You told me I can heal people, was that a lie?”

“Get up! Get up, my friend!” said Morpheous and started pounding on his chest. The entire world stood there in silence like a mock spectator. No one could move an inch.

Slowly the rain started washing away the stain of blood from Jerome’s robe. Even Morpheous’s tears became a subset of the raindrops.

“Can’t you hear me, Nicholas?” roared Morpheous in anger to which poor Nicholas knelt on the ground and showed him his empty pouch.

“I have got nothing remaining Morpheous!”

Drowning in grief Morphpeus turned towards Damianos who was his last thread of hope. He stood next to him and placed his hand on his shoulder and said,

“Let him go Morpheous!”

“It’s time to say goodbye.”

Said Damianos and then placed his hand over Morpheous’s head.

Unable to believe that he was unable to protect his friend slowly started turning the grief inside Morphpeus into anger. He tried hard to get control over his emotions, but he couldn’t. He then silently lifted his head from his lap and placed it on the ground and with his palm, he closed his eyes.

The grief and anger had slowly started to cripple him, but then suddenly he opened his eyes like he was reminded of something. He could faintly hear a few fragments of words. That voice was a peculiar one, one that he had heard before.

‘Save me!’

‘Save Ambracia!’

“Jerome!” screamed Morpheous and got up. He turned all around himself like a mad man. That slow faint sound started ringing inside his head.

Few of the soldiers who were till now standing static, in the fear of the words that they had heard from Balthazaar, started running away from the croplands for they had never seen rain in fall. But the few who remained now marched ahead.

They had given him enough time for grieving. But that was the biggest mistake that they were going to commit.

‘Avenge my death Morpheous!’

‘Make them pay the price.’

And then suddenly Morpheous stopped moving. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes as he understood, that it wasn’t the voice of his friend, it was the voice of his departed soul, and when he opened them, his eyes were no longer the color of Amber.

It was not a tinge of blue, it was the depth of blue that was now swarming in his eyes.

‘Hiyaaahhhh….’

He heard the voice of the soldiers approaching them and before they could even inch a foot ahead, he knelt down with his right knee touching the soil and banged his fist on the ground.

‘Crack’

A huge ripple relayed across the cropland, stalling the march of the soldiers. In an instant, there was rift created, cracking up the land into two creating a divide that the soldiers were now scared to cross.

The only way to kill the man standing in front of them was to use their bow and arrows. So adjusting their balance the archers lined up in the front and aimed their arrows in the direction of Morpheous. The pouring rain was making it difficult for them to see anything clearly.

Unable to believe what he was seeing with his eyes, Nicholas uttered his last prayers, but a worried Damianos tried to stop Morpheous.

“Morpheous, look at me.”

“Morpheous listen!”

But he didn’t budge even an inch. Like a possessed man, who feared nothing he stood up and yelled,

“Who made you soldiers? How could you dare to hit a weaponless man? If you have a spine, then I dare you to hit me.”

“Morpheous listen! Only one of them killed. Only one of them. Do not punish them all. You won’t be able to take the guilt.”

But he wasn’t listening to Damianos.

He was listening to the hundreds of would who had been tortured to death by each of those men. He stood fearlessly ready to take their arrows one by one.

‘Shwooooop’

‘Swoooooop’

‘Swoooooop’

Hundreds of arrows were shot at him, but none could even scratch his skin. He caught them all with his bare hands. Soon they were out of arms and then spread the panic and fear, for they now understood what Baltahzaar meant by the shroud of death.

Before they could retaliate or run, they heard.

“My turn !”