A Crimson Tale

by K. L. O Johnson

“What? I’m chucking a tantrum.” I glare and grind my teeth. I’m forced way from Altair and Madam Rougé moves to stand firmly between us. Determined to keep us from trying to rip each other’s throats out not that I blame her instead, I glare.

  “You two have finally come home. This should be a time for celebration not conflict.”

  “But—” I begin.

  “No.” She firmly drags her finger across the air before pointing it at me, sternly. “I don’t want to hear it, the Queen will be here soon and you two will not act like children in front of her.”

  There’s silence.

  I peek at Altair and see he’s slightly deflated and a bit frustrated, the murkiness in his eyes is not hard to miss.

  “Well I’m not at all impressed,” came a dominating and reserved voice I knew for as long as I can remember. I glance down the hall there stands the Queen, immediately we straighten up and bow with a slight curtsy with our hands over our hearts. It didn’t matter if you were a man or a woman. The requirement to respect a Queen is someone that can never be disregarded otherwise, it’s considered to be one disrespectful to a being stronger than us all and two, it’s just not acceptable. After all, when there are problems that the ordinary military of our world can’t handle, it’s the royal family that has to step up in order to preserve its race. “Now, now…we’re all friends here,” says my grandmother.

  “Grandma, I didn’t expect you to be here,” I voice a little shocked.

  “Dear, you don’t expect me anywhere.”

  I smile, “well how can I when you’re the master of stealth.” She smiles and quirks a brow. She than glances at Altair who stands now beside me. I don’t mind but I’m still mad at him. He can be very, insensitive at times.

  “So, are Kal and Altair arguing again?” she addresses Madam Rougé who like us have kept her head down as she speaks to the Queen.

  “Yes, my lady, the same as always, I suppose,” This causes my grandmother to bubble in giggles and I aim to not say something silly. Though, I’ve said sillier things before in front and to my grandmother which makes her laugh I don’t know whether at those times to be embarrassed or annoyed. She does have a different way of delivering humor.

  “What am I going to do with you two?” she sighs and shakes her silver head, her long hair dances gently over and around her shoulders and flows down the ground behind her, she doesn’t seem to mind though, it’s like this world with us in it is almost a joke, I frown at the thought. Maybe I can be a bit too hard on myself.

  We don’t answer.

  The sound of tattering footsteps make their way to us and I see Luchard, the Queen’s most trusted adviser and my most hated confrère. There’s a reason as to why I keep him at bay, there’s just something off about him, something I don’t like and something, I can’t quiet put my finger on but can’t exactly push aside, either. “My lady,” Luchard begins with an arrogant tone and a swift glance my way before bowing with a hand over his heart. His silver blue cape runs over his shoulders and down to the ground, while his scales clings to his skin like the rest of us.

  “Luchard.” My grandmother nods. I glare at Luchard while his head is down hoping he won’t get up but to my disappointment he does and I’m not sure if I want to stand around anymore. I would walk out of here but my grandmother hasn’t exactly dismissed me. “What brings you here?” she asks.

  “The Contuse Sector in Quadrant 4B.” I stare at him.

  “Zylaria?” I question.

  Everyone looks at me and I shift my gaze down to the ground.

  “What of Quadrant 4B?” Madam Rougé questions.

  “You…I do not answer to.” His tone is even as he refuses to meet Madam Rouge’s gaze and I feel her anger running off in waves. I move and place a hand on her forearm.

  “But you will answer me.” I say. He’s quiet and I add, “Well?”

  His gaze turns to my grandmother and she nods, there’s his approval, I fight back a smile. I can see through the demeanor he’s managed to create over the millennium, it may fool my grandmother, my father and sister but it won’t fool me—he never has and he never will. It’s not the pain or the tingling feeling within my legs but the uncertainty of what may possibly happen to Varden. They can’t kill him just yet but that doesn’t mean they won’t make him undergo excruciating torcher.

  “The Contuse Sector has been infiltrated by the Grattican.” I know. “It appeared as though they were searching for it and the Order in Midra has been destroyed everyone affiliated with the Order were slain.” He pauses and continues, “Demons, and their associates have plagued the world sending it into total chaos. This apparently is the result of a Royal descendent.”

  Varden!

  “He didn’t do it.” I snap and I feel everyone’s eyes on me. I keep myself composed. “You have no proof, the demons and the outrage of the Grattican is due to their fear of the Zylaria’s power returning. They want to keep the world controlled and contained, they want to keep its inhabitants as lap dogs.”

  “If there is a Royal among them, where is he?” my grandmother asks. My courage momentarily falters.

  “Gone…”

  *.*.*

  I glance at the female physiotherapist who was assigned to help me recuperate—apparently I’m not help to people if I can’t use my full abilities—the burning pain of my muscles gradually decreases as I followed her instructions, with my back flat against the carpeted floor, her weight upon my leg, aiding in my glut stretches. From the butt stretches to the back and upper body stretches, the stiffness my body feels slowly but surely disappears.

  I’ve been home now for a good two weeks and I’m told I’m not going back anytime soon, at first anxiety overwhelmed me to the point where I literally made myself sick with worry. I was bed ridden for a good day after I spent the night throwing up. The doctors, energists and armorists told me that I won’t be fit for battle anytime soon. At mid-day everyday between my physical examines and the countless other appointments I must keep, I’m required to have an hour of therapy—to help to stabilize my mind—I’ve been re-administrated my anti-depressants on maximum dosage. As the days passed by, as quickly as they came, I became not as worried about Varden, instead I had learned to put more trust in my comrades. “My lady…” came the voice I know all too well.

  I glance over my shoulder.

  Syara stands her hands crossed over her silver blue gown with slight amour upon her wrist, torso and cleavage. I smile. “Syara.” I say and turn my gaze back to the distant valley that glows gently against the beautiful golden, pink and red sunset. “What brings you here?” I ask, keeping my gaze firmly ahead.

  “Your grandmother, my lady.” I sigh.

  “Of course.”

  I stand and follow Syara out who is my personal maid—a ladies’ maid—she stays by my side always, a guard walks behind us, on guard and serious as the rest. I don’t understand all of the precautions required to protect us. We’re warriors. Danger is in us, the unpredictability of it is in us. I glance ahead of the silver, porcelain halls, we turn left, right before heading up steel like stairs. I lift my gown and hike the man-made mountain and stop. We finally arrive.

  I remember those golden doors.

  They glow magnificently against the luminous torches that sight on either side, powered by our Zyrex (our Power Source), the doors swing open and I enter without hesitation, I feel Syara behind me, the sound of shuffling feet greets my ears and I can tell the guards have switched now a different one follows us in the large hall, furnished by suits of armor gleaming under our energy torches our lights. I glance ahead and there sit my grandmother upon her throne, her silver blue gown contrasting the blue markings on her face and the seven point star upon her forehead, like mine. Father and I inherited that trait from her and her father and her father’s father, so on, so on.

  I kneel.

  “You’re Majesty.” I say, formally. I dare not look up.

  “Leave us.” she commands. Feet shuffle behind
me and disappear in the thick silence that plagues the room—by this tension, I’m not sure if it is good or not—I don’t say anything more. I don’t hear her footsteps and become surprised at her presence proudly before me. “There’s no need for the formality child. I’ve seen you when you were dirty and newly hatched, naked.” My head snaps up.

  “Grandma!” I groan, she’ll never forget, being the first to hold me as she aided in my mother’s birth while my father was off, keeping the enemy from reaching our boarders. I was told he only arrived three days after I hatched and had given me my name, the name that’s created from one of the most sacred places to the humans—Calvary.

  She pulls me to my feet.

  23:Departure

  © 2014—All rights reserved by author

  “Tsk, child.” she scolds—one of her pet names for me—that unfavorably stuck, ”there’s nothing wrong with bare babes.”

  “There is with adults…” I mutter under my breath and there’s silence. I regard my grandmother to see her giving me a stern, disapproving look, “sorry.” I add quickly.

  “You’re probably wondering why you’re here?” I nod and she tucks my arm through hers. We glide down an adjacent hallway and overlook our distant but ever beautiful Nebula.

  “I am.” I confess.

  Silence stretches between us—once more—this time it’s like it’s lasted for eons.

  “You are aware that the Grattican are ruling the worlds aligned and seated within the United Planets?” I nod, she continues, “the Grattican have always been our enemies—they are serpents—absolute liars and masters of deception. That’s how they win most political, social and economic battles. Our people are falling in number but our power continues to grow.”

  “I know but what can we do?”

  “We do what we’ve always done battle—for the sake of the several Codex’s spread sparsely throughout the universe.” she says in a informing voice.

  “But?” I ask, she turns to me, her deep blue eyes are stern and her light brown skin glistens under the moon.

  “I’m not giving you a choice this is something we all have to do.” She stares at me—passively, “This is something you must do.”

  *.*.*

  In the everlasting world of Darkness there’s a light, faintly it glistens. Though, my thoughts are pulled from me by the sound of a comforting yet familiar voice, “Is everything all right?” I nod. I glance at Dante, his face is impassive—he knows better than everyone else that everything is not all right but I must keep up a front in front of these men—any form or display of weakness and I’ll lose all ounce of respect they have for me as well as their desire to follow me into the upcoming battle.

  “Is everything ready?” I ask. He nods. “Good, we’ll leave at sunrise.” I turn my back on the edge of the cliff where I once stood and towards my tent. I wonder past men, cleaning, sharpening and practicing with their weapons of war…Varden is now at the hands of Golgotha and the Frost Dragon—named Dezterox—is nowhere to be heard. He apparently is responsible for the protection of my sister—Galataia and the people who inhabit the dome—however they won’t remain safe forever. I still remember the conversation as if it were yesterday. “How can you be speaking the truth?” I had asked. My memories had come back slowly but no doubt they are back.

  It’s the cool spring air that caresses my face, it’s surreal but fascinating, I can’t help but allow my gaze to smolder over the distant ranges that peeks here and there in shades of dark—brown—blue—gray. It’s amazing and I can’t help but admire the calm and ever present galaxy that insists on keeping us, full with life, full with every passing sunrise and sunset. I can’t help but feel frustrated. I continue to twist my sleeve around in my fingers as I try to understand the changes, the craziness that has occurred. Still, I’m frustrated. Why? Is it because I allowed Golgotha to get away, or that I still haven’t found Vedric or, I’m nowhere near to finding a way for us to survive this war.

  “Is everything all right?” I hear a voice ask. I nod. I glance at Dante, his face is impassive—he knows better than everyone else that everything is not all right but I must keep up a front in front of these men—any form or display of weakness and I’ll lose all ounce of respect they have for me as well as their desire to follow me into the upcoming battle.

  In the crevices of darkness…there is an evil far worse than the monsters of the Night…I haven’t been able to do much, though I’m now officially allowed to roam beyond the castle grounds. My grandma doesn’t allow me to go beyond our province that which is made up of five countries and twenty-six districts. I’m not sure whether to be frustrated or happy that she’s giving me some space. Though there are times when I wonder if my current condition has caused my men to look at me with respect or a fragile piece of China. I glance over at the horizon before managing to make a final decision. “We move now.” I say to Dante still keeping my gaze upon the distant ranges.

  “I’ll tell the others.” And with that he leaves.

  Even though my mind is distant and my heart is oddly at peace I can’t understand how it all seemed to happen. Dante was ordered to stay behind as my personal body guard, though I didn’t approve, I would attempt every now and again to convince everyone that I was and still am okay, if I’m not getting beaten up than I’m most definitely not doing my job.

  Today’s task is simple…demons have been seen roaming our lands even with the advancement of our spells and technology—they’ve learned and as such—people are beginning to lose hope in our Queen, in my grandmother, above all they are beginning to lose hope in us—the Nephalem. So we have been sent to remove the demons from our lands.

  I hear the approach of familiar footsteps.

  “We’re ready,” came the voice of my second in command—Augustine.

  “And of Dante?”

  “He’s helping in preparing our horses and ensuring that everyone remembers the plan.” I glance over my shoulder. There stands a largely built man in armor, his silver helmet is tucked under his arm, gleaming under the sun. The best way to track a demon, is during daylight. His short silver hair cascades around his high sharp cheekbones, framing his narrow pointed features.

  “So we’re ready to move?” I promised I wouldn’t place myself in an unnecessary battle but would if I need to according to grandmother there should be a Codex of Innocence nearby. These parchments maybe old but it’s the power of its creator that keeps them in shape.

  “Yes. Should you give the word,” he says.

  “We move, now.” I repeat. We mount our horses and glide along the dirt road that leads to the thicket of the ‘Cazulan Rainforest’. The sound of our hooves is the only sound that lingers around us—following the hush voices of some men and their heavy panting…the task seems daunting but I’m determined and stubborn by nature that I’ll rather die than let these beasts roam free. Though at times I know not all demons are evil, just like not all assassins are mindless murders.

  The covert of lush bushes and frequent flocks of birds pass us by—their flickering whistles glide around us before fainting away. There below me in the small shallow valley, I sense the presence of something evil—something sinister. I glance around, the scent of rotting meat fills my nostrils and I fight the urge to scrunch up my nose and pull up my lips in disgust. I glance down at my second in command. “They’re here…set up a perimeter as soon as possible, I don’t want there to be any chance of them escaping.” He nods before turning his heel and following through with the orders.

  The perimeter is finally set and a large silver almost transparent dome seals us and the demons in. The dome itself isn’t exactly a dome but a spherical energetic cell which surrounds every being within, so demons can’t go underground to try escape. The wind that previously caressed my features is no more as the trees that once danced to the melody of the breeze are still as the air. I scan the thick brown wood, vines drape over the forest floor while plants, line our path.

  I demount my hors
e and Dante is by my side in an instant. “You know you can’t battle those demons right?” Meaning I can’t stand before the demons and fight like I did previously instead, I’m to allow my soldiers to fight for me. I really don’t like sitting on the side lines but it looks like I don’t have a choice, unless I want to be under house arrest for the next hundred years. I remain silent and he takes that as my answer, as always. “There’s nothing.” He’s right, there’s no sound, no movement and above all, no tingling senses of the life force that every plant, animal and being has.

  “Akanez, Lothrello, Mikaza. Take the west wing, the rest right.” I order and step on head. I hear the shuffling of feet that with expectancy and continence follow my order.

  “Why did I have a feeling you would go off on your own?” questions Dante. I feel him regard my second in command with a risen brow as he always done when right. I glance over my shoulder to see I was right, their deep blue eyes lock onto mine.

  “Who said I’m going on my own.” I say as I turn my heel and call to them as I glide through the forest, “you’re coming with me. The both of you.”

  We walk in silence, for several hundred meters, I feel them closely behind me but with enough distance to not jump in my personal bubble.

  “This is odd…” comments Augustine.

  “Yeah, there’s not a single battle—it’s like there’s not a single demon to fight.” states Dante. I stare at the ground before me. I stop—a pile of black discharge lays in a dotted trail before us—stretching further down into the denser part of the forest. I follow the trail, the boys are quiet now and this much I’m both pleased and on edge, I know that this silence is just them concentrating on when to spring into action should I be threatened. Right now I’m starting to believe whether or not I should act as the damsel in distress. That just might give me something to laugh about.

  We step past thick moss covered logs and down a slant of land where the large leaves move to part way for us. I can feel the moist ground under my boots which slightly sink upon each step, the air is warmer than expected—than normal—this isn’t a tropical rain-forest. I feel something on my shoulder, the smell of it is putrid. I glance upon my shoulder to seek a long thick slick ooze of black oil like substance just not as fluid, its thick and sprawls over my shoulder like lava. I see a trail lining towards the treetops.