Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Twelve

"No... No! I escaped! Why...? H-how did you know?" Derek asked, not believing his eyes. All of his hard work had been for nothing.

The six reapers watched him, their armor and gauntlets shining beneath their black cloaks. In comparison, Derek wore the tattered and dirty remains of his black tights.

"There was only one way to escape that set of tunnels." Kendra jumped down nimbly from her perch, a good ten feet from the ground, and landed without making a sound. She sauntered up to him and smirked. "Nice weapon. Is that a chair leg?" She took it from him and inspected it before handing it back. "Damn, looks like its seen some good use."

Derek looked at her in astonishment. "Huh?"

"Did you really think that we didn't expect you to escape?" she asked. "If we really wanted to keep you locked up, we wouldn't have tied you to a chair with some weak rope knots. We would have done something more... deliberate."

Derek felt heat rising to his ears. "More deliberate than a gryphon? Do you know how much shit I went through to get out of there?" His voice rose to accommodate for the rage that was building within his chest. "Do you?!"

Kendra rolled her eyes, putting Derek aback. She looked so familiar, but he couldn't place the resemblance. "Yeah, Derek. We all do. That's the thing. We've all gone through it. It's all a part of becoming a reaper." She pointed to the others standing on the hill, who looked at him with a shadow of respect. "When each of us arrived here, we were all given the same treatment. We were interrogated and left for dead, just as you were. Just like you, we all survived."

"Truly, we are all impressed by your fortitude, Derek—well, most of us are, anyway," Reynold answered in a mischievous tone. "Pay up, Bryce!" he yelled to the crimson reaper.

Bryce frowned and fished a hand inside his cloak. He took a small burlap pouch from it and tossed it to Reynold, who in turn weighed it in his hand. Nodding, he opened the drawstring and reached a hand inside. There was the sound of metal clinking together as Reynold poured ingots of metal into his hand. Satisfied with the amount, he put the metal back in the bag and tossed it to the boy.

Derek caught it and looked at the contents inside. "Is this—"

"Pure silver," Reynold finished, leaping from his place on the hill. "One of the few metals that have significance to us—you've earned your share."

The terms of the bet dawned on Derek. "Wait... You bet on whether or not I would die trying to escape that hell hole?!" He paused, glaring at them. "What is the meaning of all this? Tell me what the hell is going on!" Derek gripped the stake, as if preparing to launch an assault against the reapers.

Reynold approached him with his hands out in a gesture of peace. "Calm down. We'll talk, but I must heal your wound first. You'll die if we wait much longer... You obviously haven't realized this yet, but using ice to heal your wounds only makes the problem worse. Ice expands so the water in your body also expands when ice is used to cauterize a wound. You're lucky this mistake didn't kill you."

The ice casing had all but melted from his skin and blood was trickling down through his bandage once again. Remembering that he was wounded, his thigh flared. Derek gritted his teeth to keep from screaming and eased himself to the ground. Reynold quickly knelt beside him and undid the tourniquet. As blood quickly oozed from his wound, the healer put his hands on Derek's mangled leg. Looking him in the eye, Reynold said, "This is going to sting."

Before he had a chance to ask, Derek felt his nerves burn. Hissing, he grabbed the reaper's shoulder and squeezed as hard as he could. In a strange mixture of awe and horror, Derek watched through squinted eyes as the tissue repaired itself. His veins and muscles were worms squirming about before attaching to one another as the skin grew back over the healing wound. Only when the wound was completely healed did Derek let out an uneasy breath.