A Crimson Tale

by K. L. O Johnson

  I stand, ignoring the steaming desire of my stir-fry. I watch the Inn’s dining hall, different people sit around small tables as ever, with their partners or friends their clothes are that of tunics and khakis. I can’t shake the sensation, at the corner of my eye, I see a torch set in the walls, flicker. It occurs again on the other side of the room, the sound soon begins to drown out and the once orange-yellow hue colored room is now tinted blue. A light phases down the center and the Inn, is no more. There I see a man. His teeth are white; glowing dangerously as sharp razors—ready to inflict pain if necessary. “Who are you?”

  “I’m my dear; is someone not exactly from here. Like you.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Questions, questions,” he says as he steps towards me ever so slowly ever so tauntingly. His black eyes never leave mine. “So this is where you’ve been all this time and here I was searching every corner, under every stone, behind every door on Earth to find you.” His tone is even more sinister than I can imagine, “Yet here you are, with that package.” He inclines his head to the side; a taunting smile stretches across his face. He is the face of danger. I stand tall and fearless, as always.

  “So you’re here on Golgotha’s request?” I ask.

  “How right you are but I’m only a Messenger. Hand over the package and I’ll spare your life.”

  “What makes you think I care?”

  “How you don’t value life is sad.” he decries.

  “What’s there to value when you’ve never had it?” I say and his lips pinch themselves into a straight-thin line. The fold in his brows is evident and then returns to normal. I can hear them, I can overhear the laughter and conversation of the people surrounding me, as quick as he came…he’s gone. I find myself sitting back down, how I returned to this position is odd. I had no choice but to act as though I did before the moment I heard those words.

  “Fine.” Varden says and I regard his words, his face still a crimson color like before and I believe that he hasn’t noticed anything. Not the man nor the change in the atmosphere—his presence still lingers—faintly, though. It is still enough for me to frown. “Is everything all right?” he asks. I hear those words repeat in my mind. No everything is not all right. I think but don’t say.

  “Just a little spicy.” I lie. He eyes my plate, skeptically.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks as his brows furrow in confusion.

  “It was.” I say and stand. “I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?” he asks, a piece of forked meat is mere millimeters from his mouth as his eyes wonder to my impassive expression.

  “Bathroom.”

  I move from my seat passing people who are far louder than I thought previously, I can hear the sound of my boots on the wooden floor boards it was something that I know is always there but never this loud. My head feels light and I was sure that the room spun around me. I force open a wooden door and rush over to the sink where I haul what fluids I had. What’s causing this?

  The burning sensation on the front of my throat only adds to the discomfort, I feel. Turning the tap, I allow the water to run…I glance at the mirror before me beside the lantern that reflects my dark face plate. I didn’t even realize I had it on. Then again, I’ve always had it on. It’s better than people knowing my face. I hear a gentle rap on the door.

  “You…all right in there?” I hear Varden say. I don’t answer. “Commander?” he questions, the only thing he can call me by since I didn’t give him my name. He can call me whatever he pleases it won’t matter to me.

  “Fine. I’ll be out soon.”

  “Okay.” I hear his footsteps slowly disappear and I place my hands under the running liquid, splashing my chin to rid the gastric fluid, I may or may not have forced out of my system. I glance back at the mirror and remove my helmet.

  By the time I return, Varden is sitting at a table with another woman in my seat her blond hair sprawls down over her shoulders as her blue eyes like his dance with seduction and amusement. The sight of her made me want to vomit once more but I fight it back. My head is still spinning, if she is going to take my spot than fine I’ll return to my room. “There you are.” he says his blue eyes change from witty to staid. “You all right?”

  “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” I turn from them and head back towards the door. I can still hear them though.

  “Who’s she? Your wife?”

  “No. She’s just someone I’ve met recently.”

  “Can I?” she asks not sure what it is.

  “By all means, good food shouldn’t go to waste.” I close the door behind me, the laughter is less and their conversation no more. I climb the stairs and towards my room. The lanterns in the wall flicker once more, causing shadows to dance around the halls. The cold air I can feel more around me. Like the moment it came it was gone, I stride towards my door and force it open, I enter. I see a silhouette sitting in the far end of my room.

  “About time, I was starting to think I had the wrong room.” said the voice. I recognize it.

  “Hazlitt.” I say closing the door behind me. A lantern is lit beside him on a small side table. His brown hair appears darker than normal with a hint of yellow and orange transgressing through his streaks—highlighting his features—presenting the evident frown on his face. I ignore him and remove my cloak before placing it on the chair at the opposite end of the small room. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m here to deliver this.” he says as he reveals a red envelop with a golden seal. I advance towards him and remove it from his grasp; his now free hand intertwines with his other fingers as he watches me, as I inspect the seal, critically. It was from the Order. I break the seal and slip out the parchment; written in a familiar hand.

  The only hand I fully recognize.

  Dear Commander Rodregas,

  I have been made aware you’re in contact with the package; however, something has come up. I’m in a predicament that will require for you to take a detour, a pastor has been identified calibrating with demons where his organization The Blood Brethren is responsible for brainwashing and impendent Zylarian sacrifices.

  I would have had another for this job but I’m short listed since our King and the royal family have been lost to us. No one knows if they are dead or alive. So our Order is only dwindling in size. After the neutralization of this threat you are to return to the Castle I’ll have your next assignment waiting.

  Chief Commander Gustof Donnavin

  “He can’t be serious,” I state calmly to Hazlitt. Hazlitt de Lialaz is a Shadow Messenger the best I know of with his black clothes and his style of sartorial allows him to move easily within the shadows. His hood now positioned around his shoulders which makes them appear much broader.

  “The Chief always is.” I know what he means, all too well.

  “But then that means I have to involve that civilian.” I say deep in thought, Hazlitt moves to his feet and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “You’ll think of something…you always do.” He strides towards the closed glass window and pushes it open. “In the meantime you’re going to have to, the others are spread throughout the world. If you require assistance, you won’t have it.” He leaves. I stare at the open window before I reluctantly move to close it.

  3:The Assassin

  © 2014—All rights reserved by author

  The light of the next day, touches the room, in a calming but alerting manner. I push the pale sheets from over my form and stand, the undersuit I wear covers my breasts and hips in V-leg shapes. It’s something, I can take off when I want but it only moves elsewhere on my body. It’s practically a part of my skin. Something that can be controlled at will—no surprise really—it’s protection—it’s our protection.

  My species are warriors.

  We are given no vulnerability and no way to die…we’ll almost. There are still things in this world that can harm us but we ensure our enemy never has a chance to acq
uire it. We were one of those species given the term: gods even though we were no such thing. We were created by the King of the angels and the blood of the Queen of the demons.

  So, We, were the result. Striding to the bathroom, I step into the white tub and turn on the shower. I allow my mind to relax under the warm beads. By the time I’m done, my ‘Gazric’—the suit I couldn’t remove from my body, shifts around my right wrist. The black thick scales wrap itself around my slender coffee coloured forearm. Our skin—the Gazric—is fierce yet an elegant appearance of a dragon.

  Dragons. The biological representation of what we are—we are feared which makes me distance myself, emotionally, from those around. Especially when; monsters, demons and even angels are after our blood especially those of the pure-breed. I find myself later that day, at the front counter signing out of our rooms, with new supplies. Varden waits patiently on a recliner and I move past him after I had said my good-byes to Dana. “So we’re not going to the Headquarters?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I have an errand to do, something that only I can do.” I confess striding across the foyer; I push open the door and enter the midday filled streets with carriages, wagons, horses, men and women dressed in suits and gowns. The noise present, ever annoying.

  “Which is?” he asks.

  “You’ll see.” I say and lead the way. We ride on horseback this time since it will be quicker. Varden questions the sudden change in transportation. I scowl. I hadn’t said much since we left nor have I answered his simultaneous questions since I know what possible conclusion he’s jumped to. He remains quiet on our journey to Wither Falls Gorge. Several hours pass and we set up camp, the night is cool. Before we left I had bought Varden warmer clothes since, we’ll be arriving at the Order well after the first snow fall.

  We sit in silence, eating the chicken soup I had prepared, there were times like this I am grateful I could both hunt and cook. There’s no surprise really, sometimes Knights are stranded on the front line of a war side by side with whatever planets’ Military. When you have very little food and water; hunting and gathering is your only way to survive at unfortunate times. Though, once you’re done, hunting and gathering in one spot, you continue and move on. The crackling of the flames is evident gently in my ears. “So how much further?” he asks through his spoonful of soup.

  “Not much further, just at the end of this gorge.”

  “It’s a big gorge.” he confirms as he regards the massive cliff walls around him where the forest sits still enclosed in a large silver stone bowl around us, from under his clothed sash he wrapped around his features to protect his pale skin from burns. However, it wasn’t as effective as I hoped it would be. I touch my nose once his gaze rests on me. “Oh that…it’s nothing, just a sun burn.” he brushes it off. Still he has no freckles or moles like some people I’ve come to know his skin is ridiculously clear that I notice can’t even tan.

  “Do you need some rub?” I ask he looks at me with confusion. I pull out a silver circular dish and move from where I am over to him. This is something I’ve kept in my utility belt from my world but use it generously since I have no idea when I’ll be able to return home. I remove the lid and dip my scaleless finger where my suit successfully recedes around my wrist, into the transparent gel. I rub the cream onto his nose attentively. I had no idea why I was doing it, maybe because I never burn, nor do I tan. He tenses and I stop. “I’m not hurting you…am I?” he shakes his head and I finish applying the rest and hand it to him. “Use this for wounds or burns. It cleanses and heals the skin.” I point out and move to the opposite end of the campfire. I notice his face is still red but even more so.

  He really is odd.

  “Th-thanks.” he stutters and I nod. I knew what I did but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Next time I’ll try not to act so impulsively. That was so out of character for me. I compose myself and continue eating my meal. The night is calm for several moments and I reflect back on the several encounters I’ve had so far. I have no idea why but every just seemed so set on having the package. I’m starting to wonder what it is. I haven’t even been told what it is and I’m a high ranking officer. That is something that annoys me more than anything. “What’s your name?”

  “What?”

  “Your name.” he urges with a straight face.

  “Kalverya.”

  The next day, we ride again, this time we are silent. The air is packed with an uncomfortable silence that I can figure where it came from—I refuse to allow myself to fall to such vulnerability. It’s pointless. I’d rather take a bullet than repeat that imprudent urge. The air is thin and I pull my horse up. Varden stops beside me. “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong.” The forest remains stagnant around us, the dirt trail we roam down remains motionless and the air is thin. I stare at the swaying leaves as the wind dances around me in a gentle whisper.

  “Kalverya…” I hear it call my name. It repeats again. “Kalverya…” I stare at the dancing trees. The wind can’t talk and I know that Varden doesn’t hear it. I can still feel his eyes on me but I focus on the area around us, something is here, something is with us—something dangerous. “Kalverya…”

  “Stay close.” I say as I pull out my Prevail.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks with a hint of fear in his profound voice.

  “We’re not alone.”

  A switchblade flies towards me and I bring up my blade over my centre, a cling occurs throughout the forest path and I see nothing move. Varden gasps. “Where the hell did that come from?” he questions eyes wide like saucers. I stand on the saddle of my horse, hearing another ear piercing sound I flip from the horse where I legs split sending the blade from its course into the ground before me where I, now stand. The earth is firm under my feet. The trees remain lifeless now, the breeze is gone and I feel the scales on my neck rise. My eyes dart around unsure of where to go.

  Knives fly out of the trees continuously and I flip out of the way, in a rhythmic dance fluidly moving around every blade I can see horizontally attacking me. They were faint to the regular eyes but mine are sharp and well trained for this sort of attack. I had to face the commencement of hostilities similar to this several years back where many, of my men and women died, though some managed to make it out alive, from the unforeseen ambush.

  Now I realize that the whispering sound from earlier, not the sound of my name but that gentle whistling sound. “The Package…” I hear a male voice echo around me. Suddenly, five black and red men and women armed in fierce blades appear out of nowhere, appear before me as transparent outlines before becoming solid; lastly it was the man from before who also repeats the process before. His raven black hair falls in waves around his face complementing the black, deadly, look in his eye. “Looks like we meet again,”

  “The Messenger, I presume.” I retort. “And here I didn’t think you’d show your face. I’m impressed.” I force a faint smile and like that I’m in battle.

  “Kalverya!” I hear Varden call, at the corner of my eye I see that his horse stands on its hind leg where several of the men in the same uniform as those before me, move to pull down Varden. I release my knives and they embed themselves in their heads. Their bodies fall to the ground. I turn to the others before me, who swing their blades in a skillful manner; I’m just pleased that they hadn’t invented firearms yet. The idea of crossbows and archers didn’t sit well with me either. I block parry and avoid much of their blades as possible. The men from formerly stands watching me battle his minions. How I really want to knock that smile from his face crosses my mind every now and again—aiming to keep him in my line of sight.

  I take down the first two women, quickly knowing that I’ll need more time for their male counterpart. The more I take out the less the head man appears to smile. The man launches at me and his blade slides against mine again and again, the women manage to stand on their feet while my blade and his is currently preoccupied.
I kick one than the other, separating my blade from my previous force. I hear a thud behind me but don’t look, I jump and knee the man in the head before flipping over him where I wrap a line around his throat, I yank and his head is removed.

  I propel myself from his form and roll along the ground where I land crouching, two women quick and nimble as I am move to fight me. I balance my weight on my hands and swing my legs around until my legs were vertical, I flip back and pull out my blade I had sheathed when I ascended the larger man. I thrust it into the torso of the first woman pulling back, I step around my second foe, slicing her throat in the process and she falls to the ground eyes wide and empty. I hear a cry from several voices above me but from behind, by the time I can register what they were they were shot down with arrows in their backs. I turn to Varden, his face grim, as he holds a bow and arrow. “And here I thought you were weak.” retorts the man.

  “I’m sorry who are you?” I question.

  “Galavin.” he utters with a mocking bow, “I thought you would be easy to handle.”

  “Don’t underestimate what you do not understand.”

  “Oh but I do, understand. You’ve lost your abilities as a Nephalem and now you’re stranded here on this world with these people.” He stresses the word: people and scowls at Varden, where I hear the pulling of the sting, the wood of the arrow rubbing against the bow. He’s ready to shoot!

  “That may be true but I’m far from weak.” I say. I point my blade, “Your turn.” Galavin regards me with dark eyes and an unreadable expression, it is different from the cocky grin he had only moments before. Still it doesn’t surprise me how quick a person’s expression can change when they are faced with the reality of a particular situation.

  “Maybe some other time. I merely wanted to observe.” He vanishes with a gush of smoke. I scowl.

  “He’s creepy.”

  “I agree.” admits Varden as I hear the string relax and the brush of the arrow against the wood, “What was all that about you losing your abilities?”