“How did they get here so fast?” he whispers.
“I’m not sure and we can’t really go anywhere.” I glance down and see the Captain from earlier.
“At least now we know how they managed to catch on.” I barely whisper.
“How?” he asks.
“The Captain from earlier.” I can see his golden-brown against the flurry white ground. He appears to be talking to a man, dressed in layers of armor.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have been running around like maniacs…”
“Maybe.” I agree. “As long as we’re quiet we can wait until they pass.”
“Sounds good.” The troops successfully bypass us but they don’t go too far before they set up camp. Varden and I tip-toe through the woods, gently guiding the mere along, we don’t need her to be startled and causing a fuss, otherwise, we’ll be caught for sure. If we need to we’ll be able to mount the horse and take off but where, our route, is filled with ragged uneven frozen rocky landscapes, were too high up to actually race around.
It seems like forever before we managed to set up camp, on the other side of the cliffs, the only thing that separates us from the Serpents in human form is the steep drop down to a frozen forest just off the main trail. “What else did Altair say?” asks Varden, I shrug.
“Not much,” I say and pick up a frozen stick beside me from where I sit on a low snow covered boulder. Before us, is a frozen lake, the yellow sun is just breaking towards the west and I told Varden not to start a fire or he’ll risk revealing our position. I stand and glance around.
“What’s wrong?”
“We need to hide somewhere.” I confess.
“Why?” He stands.
“Because we’re out in the open.” I notice a small cave behind us, and glance at the cliff that hangs over. If we were caught, all they’ll need to do is pellet the snow and we’ll be caved in but if they don’t find us, we’ll have a safe place to stay until they move on. “There’s a cave.” I say and head towards it. Once I enter the cave, it’s dry and warm. I glimpse behind me and notice Varden is pulling the horse along.
We fall asleep, instantly. Though, I didn’t get enough sleep my mind running through what to do and where to go. We could go to the Order like Altair suggested but sadly I fear there will be more surprises along the way. The next day came quick and we hiked up frozen rocky terrain, across deep flurries of snow and under ice toppings upon dead withered trees. The Nephalem are fierce warriors, known, to take out hundreds alone. The unknown is what causes fear to kindle in the hearts of the fear—feared by the Nephalem—their unpredictable nature. It’s only in this time, only in this world where everything is all over the place everything is not what it seems.
Is it always going to be like this? I think as I watch the stillness of the frozen mountains with, Covenant troops at every acreage I’m not exactly confident we’ll make it out of here alive—maybe not in one piece. I hear Varden approach his boots crush the snow graciously. I feel him stop beside me. I keep my eyes ahead. “We’re not safe…are we?” he asks and I regard the hazy gray skies that seem to easily transcend on this lifeless world.
“No were not.” We travel to the small town of ‘Mykyra’, the place where we initially saw the Grattican. I can’t help but feel anxious as we make our way through the town. The Grattican are gone and Varden is no closer to attaining the throne. Even if he does attain it, will people want to have some form of justice against the wrong that has caused ultimate pain and loss?
I grasp the reins, slightly hesitant.
This is the only town with this large frozen stretch of valley and the sight of the gray overcast tells me were in for another blizzard. There’s a need to supply ourselves and constructively create an effective plan. Everyone and everything seems to move so slowly around me—I’m almost annoyed at the sight. Men brush too closely to our horse and I lean back against Varden, on impulse he pulls his arms around me and unwinds my hands from the reins.
He begins to guide the horse to that end of the town. To a small Inn I told him previously would give us more cover and more protection, it lays in the west we will be notified if the Grattican are in the town and will have time to abandon it, if necessary. The wooden floorboards creak under my wedge-less feet. My heels, weapons, gadgets and armor have disappeared as my body may or may not be recovering. In a way I’m pleased to know that we can’t contract STIs or HIVs, otherwise I’ll have something else to worry about but with our current technology, diseases can be wiped from our system as if it were never there to begin with. I mean who knows what Vedric has in his system. Right? The thought of it creeps me out but I keep that to myself.
We aren’t like other ordinary dragon races instead we are the Dragon Race, the one above them all. Even before the advancement of our technology we had a very strong immune system that is practically impenetrable granted to us by the angels and demons—the power that flows through their veins—now is with us. We arrive at our room and I push open the door.
A single room.
I feel rather silly, I glance at Varden. He shrugs, “Sorry, they only had this room available.” I enter the room and see it’s small. One small window at the end of the room, directly opposite me, stand freely as the white curtains dance in the wind. Varden moves to close it. “Honestly it’s cold enough as it is without having the window open.”
I sit on the only bed and brush my fingers along the thickly woven quilt. My eyes are trained on Varden before he turns and glances around the room, his eyes fall to the bed, than to me—finally the open door where he closes it firmly with a frustrated sigh, “What’s wrong?” I ask.
His head snaps up.
“Nothing.” He turns to face me. “Just a little tired.” So am I. I silently agree with him and wonder if I’ll ever have a link with him as I did with John, or didn’t, I don’t know. I pull my eyes from him. He’s the Prince of this world and I’m a Princess of another…we run in different circles, on different worlds, just like John and I. Why is it I seem to never have what I want? Though, envy is that of those with no luck.
“Varden.” I say. His eyes lock onto me with an unreadable expression, “I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“About almost kissing you…it’s not right.” I turn to glance out the window hoping the frozen mountains in the distance will make out my next words, “you should know that…” I begin.
“You’re with Altair.” I turn to him. There is the same unreadable expression and a hint of something else. I nod. “It’s okay, I’m sorry too, I guess I was caught in the moment.” Silence stretches between us and I can’t seem to understand why, every time we seem to have something stable, it ends in silence.
“Anyway, I’m not with Altair.” I say.
“You’re not?” he questions with confusion in his voice.
“Yes, I’m not.” He nods in understanding and his jaw tenses.
“We’ll either way,” he says. “We should get some rest.” I glance down at the bed.
“But—” I begin to question where he’s going to sleep. He holds up his hand, I clam my mouth shut.
“I’ll sleep on the floor.” His eyes told me not to argue and I didn’t, once he’s convinced I’ve accepted his idea, I pull the top quilt off and walk over to where he slid down the wall, far from me and rested his head on his arm. Only until I’m in front of him does he look up.
I hold out the blanket.
“You may be cold.”
“I’ll be fine.” he says and I scowl, what’s with men and their pride? I still hold it out and he sighs and takes it. “You’re stubborn you know.”
“So I’ve been told.” I move back to my bed, “Good night,” I call over my shoulder and see him smirk at my response before muttering.
“Good night.”
The frozen and sealed ground of the narrow alley, keeps my feet unsteady. I’m unsure if I should be walking here but I can’t help it, I feel drawn, compelled. I glance down at the ice
covered black ground.
There sits a man back against the wall.
The man before me lays motionless, so still I believe. I don’t see his chest moving as every being intakes oxygen and expels carbon dioxide—well almost, I mean those without aerobic respiration would require no oxygen—those are often plants like fungi. Still the sight of him annoys me rather, I’m annoyed at how he hasn’t even noticed my presence. I had heard he was in town and I wanted to find out for myself, now I have and I’m disgusted at the sight of him—pathetic! I have and look what has happened. The sight of it is appalling. I can’t help but want to grind my fists into his teeth. That would bring me true pleasure.
“Hey!” I yell, growing impatient. Though his negligence isn’t what annoys me, I have no clue what it is—anger—nothing—fear is all I feel at this moment. I can’t blame myself it’s not my fault. Or so I believe. I march over to him. “Hey!” I snap not in the mood. “Wake up! You drunkard!” I bark as I kick my foot against his, nudging it slightly to the side—still—no response. This is bullshit! I kneel down before him and that’s when I noticed it.
He’s cold—gray—lifeless and he’s dead.
“I don’t believe my eyes…” I mutter annoyed at the sight of him. Did he pass out on the liquor? Or did he die by the hand of another. There stamped under his wrist one letter: G.
I turn over his hand and notice his hands clenched and fitted as if given or taken something. I pluck it open and don’t cry out in pain or scream as his body suddenly jolts and crushes my hand, a crack occurs and he broke my wrist with his iron fist. I place his hand down slow as pain burns through my forearm. “You had to be weird,” I mutter to myself and at the deceased corpse before me. The sight of him doesn’t bother me—I’ve seen plenty dead bodies to last me a good millennium. I stand and unravel the paper ever so slowly—fighting the urge to scream—fighting the pain searing through me like meat above a fire.
That’s what it’s like—fire.
Evident and long-lasting pain that I for one have no choice but to suck up. Well depending on what’s on this piece of paper; a treasure map, secret codes, claustrophobic secrets—a note. There goes my hope but what frightens me more is the handwriting, I’ve seen it before but where and why—I’m cut short when my head snaps up at a reeling sound. I glance behind me. There are three men eying me with greed. I’m officially am beginning to hate these types of men!
“Look what we have here.” calls one like a drunken hobo. His hair’s in tussles in every unattractive direction, unshaven, holy shoes and ragged clothing’s.
The others are the same. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be in alleyways alone!”
“Who said she’s alone?” comes the voice and I recognize it. The men spin around and turn their gaze behind them. There stands Lifet and a very tense Altair. Altair strides forward, dominance radiates off of him in dazzling waves that makes me feel—happy.
I’m not even sure what it is but the sight of these digesting low life’s, in fear, makes a pride of warmth flutter through my chest. They begin to tremble and I fight back giggles that threaten to erupt. “Who are you?” demands a man as he mistakenly points, his slender—bony finger at Altair. The anger in Altair’s deep blue eyes are like that of steel. Cold and hard.
“I’m the one who should be asking the questions around here.” he remarks. Altair strides forward, dominance, power and control radiates from him like a ball of flaming heat, like a star. I smile. They’re going to get it now.
“You ask nothing shit–” The man’s cut off by Altair’s hands wrapping around his thin throat—his form lifts from the ground—his feet shake as his nails claw at Altair’s thick scales—as usual Altair is unharmed. I glance at Lifet and he too has a smile on his face, I don’t blame him, these three street thugs have nothing worth owning so trying to overpower someone or steal which something is their way of dealing with whatever problem they have at the moment.
Sadly, they settled on harming the wrong woman, I didn’t even know that I would run into those two, I guess they were fine after all. “You and no other man is to ever touch that woman.” His words were harsh, deadly and above all sharper than any blade and he drops the man on his rear and glances at the two men behind him who quickly stumbled out of his way. He strides towards me. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just a broken wrist. I’ll be fine.” His eyes go dark and gently but carefully takes my wrist into his hands, his scales feel warm against mine as he regards it. A green shimmer of light resonates from his hands and warmth floods through me—bit by bit the pain is removed and my strength in my wrist returns. I glance up at him and notice he’s watching my face attentively…he seems hesitant that I’m going to yank my wrist away. I admit I can be a little difficult at some times but I try and right now I want to yank my wrist away at the closeness, the vulnerability that is present before me in devastating chunks should I become attached.
“How about now?” His voice breaks through the haze in my mind. His words are almost like a whisper a gentle foreboding sound that gives me odd flutters in my stomach.
“Fine.” Is all I manage. You could have done better than that. I scold myself.
“Yes, you could have,” says Altair and I know than that I should have sealed my mind. My face feels heated and I pull my eyes from him and glance down at the black stone alleyway. There is a lot of things that seems to be going through me at this point and I don’t notice I’m being ushered out of the alleyway until I stand in between Altair and Lifet in a busy courtyard surrounded by people of all sorts; merchants, performers, shoppers and a black-market sales man that I see at the corner of the courtyard.
The laughter that fills the air around me is symphonic in festivities of joy and excitement. Women are dressed in beautiful gowns and light make-up while men are dressed in their finest suits and lustrous hair ranging from blond to black, with everything in between. Several men range from charcoal colored skin tone to paper white. I feel several eyes on us and notice that Altair has stepped closer to me. The eyes that fell upon me—glance at him and continue walking. “So where’s Varden?” asks Lifet.
“He’s in the Inn on Caroler and Begot Street.” I say. We make our way towards the inn with utmost discretion the last thing we need is for people to start reporting us to the Guardians. The thought of them getting involved will only just add to the possibility that they too are after us. I really don’t like it. So instead, I lead the way towards the inn slightly taking in the detail of the life filled streets—people pass us by obliviously and I don’t mind, I would rather have them not acknowledge us than staring at us any day. Thinking back to the town with the Frost Dragon makes my skin crawl. There, they continued to stare at me for no reason and just stared because they can or could…it took all of my strength not to scream at them. I stop. “Here we are.” I say and push open the wooden doors.
I stare at the impending danger that’s about to befall me and all I can do is watch, all I can do is pray that it—everything I’ve tried and failed to do—everything—isn’t all for nothing. “Kal?” asks Altair, he always seems to know when something’s bothering me. “Are you okay?” I don’t know…I’m not sure…I can’t bring myself to say those words but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to. Instead as if he’s read my mind he wraps his arms around me and I instinctively lean into him, my body, acts on its own accord.
The Inn, the small room I had left Varden is now trashed, destroyed and he’s gone. I stare at the room—blinking, afraid—scared—it’s like the time I had lost my sister, than, I felt like someone jabbed a knife so deep through my chest that it danced out through the other side—breathing seemed impossible and reality—too difficult to distinguish. I honestly feel that right now.
Lifet strides across the room and I freeze, he picks up a piece of paper. The one person I know better than I know myself is Golgotha. She of all people enjoy having the world knowing her signature, knowing her work. Lifet picks it up, t
he paper begins to shake in his hand slightly, or not. I’m not in the best state of mind. “I’ve taken what you’ve withheld from me. The Underworld will be open.” This time there is no indication of who wrote it but I don’t need to know who. I know who. The sight of it, makes my bones feel heavy, my blood runs cold. I’m terrified…not for me but for Varden.
“May I have a look?” questions Altair and Lifet hands him the letter with a concerned look in my direction. Don’t look at me like that—I’m not the one you should worry about.
There she stands above me as I glare. “Look…regardless of what you think, I actually have no valuables”—right now at least—”that you can take.” Those words would have been mostly honest if it weren’t for the deep voice that distantly calls for my name.
“You sure about that?” she mocks. The moment Dante steps through to the frozen clearing he moves his hand to his sword. The woman whips around me within a blink of an eye, I realize than, that she’s a lot faster than she looks. “Come any closer and I’ll slice her throat,” she declares and the fear in Dante’s eyes and the tension of his shoulders tells me that he knows it’s an actual fearful threat.
“What do you want?” he asks firmly.
“Gold, jewels. All you have, or your Princess here gets it.” I slightly move my head and signal a “no” just because my life’s on the line doesn’t mean we have to roll over to this woman who seems to think she has the upper hand in this battle.
“Give her nothing!” I growl. She tightens her grip over my shoulder and around to my waist as she points the steel cold blade at my exposed cheek. She slowly drags me back and I stumble against her, attempting to fine stable footing under me.
“Shut up!” she yells in my unfortunate ear. Wait until I get out of here you’re next, bitch! I think and I believe I saw Dante smirk slightly at my words. “I know you have money—hand it over!” Dante’s jaw tenses. He doesn’t like this as much as I do.
A Crimson Tale Page 28