Reapers -- The First Familiar (Reapers Chronicles Book II)

21 - Anger Issues

It was late in the afternoon when we reached Belial’s farm. The ride was bumpy as expected. But between Luci’s ceaseless attempts to get us into a conversation, I would pick the butt-sore anytime. Seriously, she sounded like a tour guide. She made it sound like every rock and pothole in the road had a special meaning to the people in Halja. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re stuck in one place for that many centuries.

I didn’t make an effort to keep up. Happily, I jumped down from the wagon the second it stopped.

“So where do we start?” I asked, stretching my legs.

Luci pointed past the enclosed grazing lands. Just behind the long series of barns were countless of trees strewn all over the face of a hill that made it look like a giant green afro.

“The orchard’s that way,” Luci replied, talking mostly to Vincent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grunted, looking like he was bored out of his mind.

We took a crumbling narrow path uphill. The steps were almost indistinguishable from the eroded hillside. It made the trek a bit challenging. One slip could be the end of me. At the very top of it was a weathered stone archway. It was so old, moss grew on it.

I could see a lot of fruit-bearing trees. There were apples and pears to my right. There were blood oranges and grapefruits. I didn’t know the rest. There was this bright pink fruit the size of a football with soft yellowish spikes and strawberry-like dots. Frankly, it looked like an alien spawn or something.

“Harvest season’s almost at hand,” Luci mentioned as we entered the orchard. “We will need every pair of hands available.”

A handful of people moved about, each with a task. Men were on top of the trees, fixing some sort of contraption on the branches. Women, and occasionally, little girls carried watering cans and sprinklers for the saplings. Some were on ladders, picking fruits that had ripened a little too early.

Everyone was so intent with their work, no one paid attention to us.

We kept walking until we saw a big stone formation. A gnarly sword-shaped rock about fifteen feet tall centered the formation, pointing directly at the sky. It was surrounded by six more rocks that stuck in different directions, like petals of a flower that turned into stone.

Belial was sitting on top of one of the tilted rocks. The one she was sitting on looked particularly similar to a long narrow boat with its hind sinking into the ground. With a sigh, she swigged from her metal flask, carefully setting it beside her before staring distantly at nothing.

“Hey, Bel!” Luci shouted, waving at her. “They’re here!”

With the enthusiasm of a sloth, Belial waved us off with an expression that said, “Yeah, well. Do whatever you want.”

Sighing, Luci pouted. “Wait for me here. I’ll just have a word with her.”

After removing her sandals, the blond girl began climbing the base of the protruding rocks. She was able to lift herself over a ridge then walked with her arms spread out to keep her balance. She must’ve done this a lot of times because she reached Belial without her skull being crushed.

“You shouldn’t have given in to Sathariel’s condition.” Vincent’s voice was a low rumble from behind me. “We can’t stay here, Aramis.”

Resignedly, I faced him. “Are we still going to argue about this? Seriously?”

He just averted his gaze.

“Come on, Vincent,” I sighed. “All we have to do is help out in the farm. How hard can that be? We’ll just have to do what he wants for a while, make him happy enough to not kill us. In exchange, he’ll let us stay here. It’s a win-win deal.”