by A. R. Crebs
“Hold her,” Dovian ordered.
Troy rushed to the woman’s side, holding her arms down. By this time, Gavin had joined the team, the copter flying at high speed to the opposite side of the island.
“What are you doing?” Troy asked, watching the sorcerer.
“Quiet…” Dovian murmured, closing his eyes. He mumbled to himself in Legacy, something that sounded like a prayer. He raised his hand, drawing light from the orb of his staff into his palm, and he brushed it along Aria’s leg. Quickly, her clenched jaw loosened, and her groaning stopped altogether. “Good,” Dovian whispered. He pulled more light from the orb and repeated the actions a few more times, running his hands over the wounds.
“Holy shit.” Gavin’s mouth dropped open.
Aria’s wounds were healing before their very eyes. Slowly, new muscle and skin formed over her wounds. Her fingernails were no longer digging into the sides of the chair, and her previously fading eyes were now holding a vibrant hue. She gasped loudly, looking down at herself, watching Dovian’s hands rub against her calf.
“Shouldn’t you be flying?” Dovian looked over his shoulder at the pilot.
“D’uhh…autopilot.” Gavin gestured toward the cockpit.
“And the enemy could easily find a way to create further problems for us. That is if a raging storm doesn’t hit first.” The Sorcēarian gave Gavin a look most grave.
“Yeah. Right.” The pilot nodded and quickly returned to his post, but not without giving Aria a winning grin and a thumbs-up.
“How does it feel?” Dovian gently asked the woman.
“Fine.” She breathed a laugh. Her eyes were wide as she slowly bent her ankle and flexed her knee. “Even better than before!” She giggled again.
Dovian gave her a small smile and patted her knee. “Good. I was worried I may be a tad bit rusty.” He met Troy’s glare and his face fell. “I assume everyone else is okay?”
“Fine.” Troy sat in his chair beside Aria. He loudly let out a sigh, rubbing his brow.
Aria leaned forward and touched her ankle. She fed Troy a lovely grin. It seemed that Dovian’s magic was also good at curing bad moods. Aria looked like a kid in a candy store.
“Feeling better?” Troy asked.
She bobbed her head, still smiling. Then she met Dovian’s amused stare, and a pink tinge came to her cheeks. Was she seriously blushing? Troy rolled his eyes.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ he thought.
The doors to the cabin slid closed, creating a silent vacuum as the Hawk 90 took the form of a jet. All was quiet in the vehicle. Dovian’s look hardened as he thought of the dark silhouette he had seen in the doorway. It had distracted him to the point where he could have lost Aria. The memory plagued him. Someone was pulling the strings to this whole war, and that idea was leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
“Where are we going?” Aria asked. Her little high was finally fading.
“It seems we may not be going far,” Gavin called out.
“What do you mean?”
“Storms,” Dovian interrupted. “It is almost nightfall. You won’t be leaving the island tonight.”
“Then where are we supposed to stay?” Troy asked in irritation. “Those things could be everywhere! How are we supposed to last the night with them running around?”
“There are some small ruins up north. We could hide out there. I trust this thing moves fast? We could possibly get there without the enemy following, but we’ll have to leave early to avoid any detection. I fear the worst is yet to come.” Dovian narrowed his eyes, watching through the small, round window.
“I think I saw those ruins when I found an opening in the storm. It’s pretty much out in the middle of nowhere, right?” Gavin asked.
“Correct,” Dovian affirmed.
“Okay….We’ll be there in five minutes!”
Dovian’s eyes widened a little. “Your aircraft are much quicker these days.”
“Bio-Tech has all the best toys.” Troy nodded.
“Bio-Tech? That’s where you are from?”
“Bio-Tech Military Corporation,” Aria said.
“I’m assuming you’ve been experimenting with genetics again.” Dovian frowned.
“You could say that. What do you mean again?” She watched the sorcerer with interest.
“You humans got in trouble for that once before. It creates unbalance.”
“When? We’ve been messing with genetics for generations now.” Aria smirked. “It’s nothing new.”
“I’m talking about a very long time ago.” He paused, returning his gaze back out the window. “Long before I was born even.”
Aria wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but even so, Dovian’s words and tone were a little unsettling.
The Hawk jolted, the doors tearing open once again to break into rotary blades. High-speed winds surged inside, startling the silent passengers. The helicopter slowly descended, nestling its rails onto the plush pasture. The whipping propellers sent a gusting breeze that flattened the surrounding vegetation, the blades of grass rippling like the waves in the ocean, flickering in hues of orange and purple.
“I’m gonna leave it in copter mode, guys, so we can make a quick getaway if needed,” Gavin called out as the engine wound down.
Everyone descended from the Hawk, making leery steps toward the small ruins a few meters away. The setting sun, casting a pinkish-orange light, was quickly becoming consumed by the blackness of storm clouds. The mood of the scenery was fading from beautiful to depressing. Dovian looked sadly upon the small hut, unmoving in the pasture. Aria took notice and stopped to look back. He shook his head and matched her look with a little smile as he held out a hand, telling her to continue.
“So, what exactly is this place?” Gavin asked curiously as he walked through the open doorway of the remains. He set his bags onto the floor and hopped onto the stone countertop for what may have been a kitchen at one time.
“It was…a vacation home,” Dovian stated quietly, looking about the room with tired eyes. “It belonged to a friend.”
Judging by the look of the place, it seemed Dovian himself hadn’t ventured to this part of the island in a long time. There was barely a roof left, and it seemed that not much more than a few lizards had traveled through judging by the thick layer of dust lining some of the broken shelves and ruined furniture.
“Well, I’m hitting the hay.” Troy chuckled to himself, patting his hand on a pile of overgrown grass in the center of the room. He plopped carelessly onto the heap, yawning loudly.
“We can leave at sunrise,” Dovian assured. “The storms should lighten up by then.”
He was answered by the angry crackle of thunder and lightning. Like popping a balloon, gushing rainfall pounded against the small home, sending a drenching fall of water onto Troy and his pile of grass.
“Son of a–” the man groaned.
Aria stifled a laugh. Gavin did not try much to hold his in, guffawing out loud and even pointing a finger at his friend. Dovian merely watched the man, pulling an old chair up to sit in. He rolled his eyes, muttering, “€δℓöŧ.”
“What does that mean? Hyd’ot?” Troy asked, trying to articulate the word, giving a couple of awkward breaths and a click at the end.
“It means much like it sounds: idiot.” Dovian sat back in the seat. His heavy weight instantly crushed the old item, and he ungracefully fell onto the floor. Troy, this time, joined in on Gavin’s hooting.
“Hyd’ot!” the two men hollered, pointing at the Sorcēarian.
Dovian remained on the ground, staring at the cracked ceiling. A crooked smile crept over his lips.
“Hrm…” a little groan sounded from the far side of the cottage.
“Holy shit, what was that?!” Gavin jumped off the granite countertop.
Dovian sat up, alert, as Aria and Troy slowly stood from the ground, grabbing their firearms. Another groan sounded, and Dovian was on his feet, rushing to the front of the gro
up. They took the small hall to the back of the home where a bedroom once was. Thunder boomed and heavy rain poured in through the many holes in the structure, wetting down the Sorcēarian’s hair. He held up a hand, telling the others behind him to wait, and he entered the small room, cautiously looking in every corner. Lightning flashed, lighting up the whole room; there was no longer a roof on this part of the house. The ancient man’s eyes flickered as lightning flashed again, revealing a slender, nude body lying on the center of the floor.
“Oh, my God…is she dead?” Aria asked.
“She’s so pale,” Gavin whispered.
Dovian rushed to the woman’s side, quickly removing his belt and scarlet ceremonial coat. He laid the item over the woman’s body, lifted her into his lap, and wrapped it around her. She had alabaster skin. Her body was long and slender with tight musculature, soft looking but hard. Long blonde curls framed her symmetrical face, curving around her collar bone. Pressing two fingers against her wrist, Dovian felt for a pulse. A frown wrinkled his chiseled features.
“How’d she get here?” Troy asked.
Dovian shook his head and reached for her neck, placing slight pressure against the porcelain woman’s throat. Nothing drummed beneath his fingertips. He eyeballed a chain around her neck connecting to a small military dog tag. It simply read ‘Ivory.’ It was a fitting name.
“Who is she?” Aria joined in.
“Her name is Ivory,” Dovian’s voice croaked.
At the mention of the woman’s name, her eyes popped open–baby-blue orbs set behind long black lashes. Her slender hand lifted and painfully gripped Dovian’s wrist. Frightened eyes met the man’s and her pale-pink lips slowly parted.
“D-Do…” she gasped loudly, her eyes rolling back in her head as she passed out. Her bony fingers stayed wrapped around the sorcerer’s wrist.
Dovian stared at the white beauty, flabbergasted. He was sure she was dead, but now, it appeared she was breathing normally. Slowly wetting his dry lips, he stared at the woman’s face. The curls flowed just right; her voice was so small. How did someone like her end up here? And what was she trying to say? It almost sounded like his name. But that would be preposterous. No one in this world would ever know his name, let alone some military woman. Still, there was something strange about the look in her eyes, the desperation in her voice. It left the man feeling a bit lost.
“We should get her out of the rain,” Aria suggested. “I’ll help dress her better.” She bent down, grabbing Dovian’s armored belt. Her bitter glare was sent flying in Troy and Gavin’s direction. “Out!”
“What?” The two men shrugged.
Aria only hardened her scowl, and the two sighed and finally left the room.
“Are you okay?” Aria asked.
“Yes. Just a little confused, that’s all.” Dovian sat the woman up in his lap carefully. Together they pulled the coat sleeves over her arms and cinched the article tightly around her waist, securing it with Dovian’s armored waistband. He slowly stood, carrying the pale girl in his arms. Aria stared at the dog tag nestled securely between her breasts.
‘Perfect eye candy for the other two men.’ She sarcastically thought.
“Do you know her?” she questioned.
“No.” Dovian removed his stare from the woman’s ivory-colored face. “I have no idea who she is.”
"Dovian The Barbaric"
Chapter 9
The fire in the center of the living room area gave off generous heat. Flickering flame filled the small home with yellow light, causing contrasting shadows of black to dance across the walls. Soft snores merged with the sounds of the calm crackles as Troy and Gavin slumbered in near locations under the safety of areas where a roof still existed. Rain pelted softly against the stone floor as the storm slowly passed overhead, the occasional thunder sounding in the distance. Aria stared at the flame, sighing quietly. Despite feeling exhausted, she found it impossible to sleep. In a silent daze, she unconsciously ran a hand gently through the blonde woman’s hair.
“Can’t sleep?” Dovian’s voice quietly called to the woman.
“Hm. You neither?” She nodded, tearing her eyes away to look over at the robed individual sitting in the shadows not even a meter away.
“I’ve had plenty of time to sleep.” His blue eyes cast their own glow in the dark hut. “With all the excitement lately, I imagine it will be hard for me to sleep at all in the days to come.” There was humor in his voice.
The tall man rose from his position and made his way to sit beside the woman. He gazed wordlessly at the fire; the warm light bounced against the colors of his hair, creating a small aura about his head. His cool eyes darted to the side as he looked at Aria, and that was when she realized she was staring.
“I noticed your tattoos.” Aria pointed. Dovian remained silent, turning his gaze back to the flame. “Did they hurt?”
“No. It was very quick and painless.” He blinked his eyes, his lashes covering the bottom lid’s tattoo momentarily. “Our technology was always more advanced than yours.”
“I can’t imagine that. Even now?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to take a look at how advanced your world has become. But, judging by your weapons, I’d say your people are far behind though you are more advanced than you used to be…before the Second Fall.”
“Second Fall?” Aria murmured. “You mean as in Mille 19 S.F.?”
“Is that not what it means to you?” Dovian faced her.
“No one is really sure what it means anymore. I’ve heard of Second Fall; some dubbed it Final Sin, Sudden Failure,” she scoffed, “and then something like Sine Fatum. Not really sure what that means.”
“Without fate,” he spoke softly. His eyes looked almost pitifully at the woman.
Aria was silent a moment. “You think humans are disgusting, don’t you?”
“Not entirely, but most are. You all have more ego than humility. It’s quite the curse,” he spoke nonchalantly. Aria couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated by his response.
“And your people weren’t the same?” she gruffly asked.
Dovian’s eyes narrowed. “My people were far more than you can comprehend.”
“So you think we’re idiots, too?”
“Only uneducated,” he paused momentarily, “clearly.”
Aria glared at him in return. “It’s been a long time since your kind has been around. Maybe things have changed.”
“Not for the better,” his voice lowered. “I can tell that already. If your kind were in good moral standing, you wouldn’t be in the predicament you’re in now.”
Even though she wanted to argue, Aria decided to keep her mouth shut for a change. Besides, she knew the Sorcēarian was right. Humanity was disgusting. What kind of people killed their own simply because of small differences such as eye color and dialect? The thought brought her attention back down to the other woman resting beside her. Aria removed her hand from the woman’s golden locks but not before Dovian noticed the small gesture.
“How is she?” he asked, thankfully changing the subject.
“She seems to be doing alright. She moved earlier, so I guess that’s a good sign.” Aria’s voice was soft. “I can’t imagine how she got here….I don’t want to know why.” Her thoughts drifted to the woman’s previous appearance—naked and cold, lying in the middle of some ruins out in the middle of nowhere on an unfamiliar island.
“In her condition, I cannot imagine one such as she would willingly come to a place like this in the nude,” Dovian added, clearly matching Aria’s thoughts.
“Bastards,” she growled quietly. Dovian’s eyebrow lifted in question. “She was probably raped and thrown out here, left to die.”
The room was suddenly quiet, the air was slightly stuffy.
“Your people do this type of thing on a regular basis?” he asked.
“You could say that. I mean, she’s lucky to be alive looking the way she does.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Well, she has very pale skin. Her hair is blonde…unless she’s dyed it, but I haven’t really seen a color like that in a while. I also noticed she is tall.” Aria listed things about the woman that Dovian thought was nothing unusual.
“And she has blue eyes. What’s wrong with these things?” he asked.
“Oh! Blue eyes, too,” Aria chuckled. “In my city, people are killed thoughtlessly for naturally having any of those characteristics.”
“Blonde hair and blue eyes is a bad thing?” Dovian asked incredulously.
“If a person is considered to be too tall or too short, have any color of hair other than a brownish tone, eyes that are blue or any color other than a brown-green, skin that’s too light or dark, or, heaven forbid, an accent or dialect other than our own, then they are in high probability of being harmed or killed just for walking out in public.” The military woman spoke simply of the matter. Dovian, however, held a look of horror on his face. “Oh, and if you’re disabled, have any genetic diseases or anything like that…you’re worse-off.”
“You humans are at an all-time low,” Dovian whispered. “I can’t fathom the ignorance of your society. In my time, a woman like her would be fought over.” He added, “In a good way.”
Aria glared at him. “What do you mean? She could be just as fake as the others. She could have dyed her hair. She could be wearing optic enhancers. Hell, there’s even dyes for your skin! If you’re feeling extra daring, you can lighten and darken your skin to any shade you want. It’s stupid though…making yourself an easy target.” She bitterly looked upon the sleeping woman next to her. Aria couldn’t help but feel a tad bit jealous of her. Was it all real? Could this woman really be this naturally beautiful?
“You speak a bit ill of this woman. What would be the difference? She looks as she looks.” Dovian stared upon the sleeping Ivory. “And she looks beautiful. There’s no doubt about it. Hate crime or not, she’s an easy target for any type of predator.”
Now that was true. Despite whatever color her skin or eyes were, Ivory was still attractive.