“I would expect nothing less,” a voice picks up from before me answering my perceptual call. Piercing red slit-like snakes eyes, peer down at me. It moves towards me and steps out of the shadows exposing its identity under the silver moon: a ‘Hunter Troll’. “Hand over the man and I’ll walk away.” I remain silent my cloak falls around my form and feel the wind pick up lightly gyrating around me in an elegant fashion. My black hair swings in the breeze under my helmet that covers half of my features by a black tinted face plate. Only leaving my blood red small plump lips on display. “Very well, you forced my hand Nindo. I’ll show you what happens to those who steal from Golgotha.” I freeze at the name. It can’t be?
He swings his large sledge-hammer around, his muscles moving under the effort of keeping that weapon from crushing its handler. He’s barely clothed, large muscles, shoulders and thick abdomen add to his intimidating stature. It’s rather insulting he dresses down in front of me. Ignoring the odds; I remain impassive, remain as cold as my heart. “If you know who I am, then why do you insist on inflicting your premature demise?”
“Golgotha demands it.” The Hunter Troll sends his hammer towards me with undeniable force and I step back, the blow gushing wind across my unarmoured chest. “I wonder what will happen if I crush your chest.”
“I’ll die, obviously.”
“I hope so.” he taunts as he sends his hammer into a nearby tree where I once stood. Still, I’m quick to move, scanning his form, searching for a weakness. “Here I expected more from a god damn Nefaliem.” He continues to swing his over-sized hammer when I know that I don’t have the strength I would in my other form, still he continues to swing. I step around the tree and pull out a hand full of throwing knives that stand out between the gaps of my scale covered fingers. I hear the snapping of the twigs under his weight and duck, the tree that hid me, now, falls towards my bearing. I flip to the side, effectively avoiding being crushed by the massive trunk and throw my knives where they manage to stab in his thick chest.
Realizing that he was of the ‘Mystic’, he won’t die so easily. He launches himself towards me faster than I expect but on impulse my legs, climb his body where my hands grasp his shoulders, I flip around him until my stomach is facing the ground, locking my legs around his thick neck, I lean forward—gaining momentum—I flip him over from where he stands and into the ground head first.
I detangle myself from around him and handspring back away from his form. I stand ready as I wait for him to rise to his feet once more and as anticipated he does. He grunts in annoyance and swings his hammer at me once again. His back turns to me as I dip down, around and under him. I slide between his legs where his eyes watch me with amusement.
With as much strength as I can muster I kick his kneecaps, my thick wedge heels, crush his lids like gravel under shoes. He cries out in pain and I slip through his legs again. He slowly turns to face me but it’s all too late when I lock my wire around his neck and squeeze. Using not much of my strength, his head is lobbed off and rolls on the ground where his body falls before me, pooling blood.
2
THE PACKAGE
Varden and I venture up a slope of land. Damp leaves tumble down around my feet making it far more difficult to hike this terrain. Regardless, I am, pleased it is not steeper. Otherwise, we may have to find another route which would add another day to our plan. “How much longer until the next town?” he asks.
“Another day,” I declare before adding, “Why?”
“No reason.” he says and I don’t press. I can tell he’s wary; his heart rate is erratic in my ears. He is an odd man I knew that much but I couldn’t exactly deny he has a fair amount of courage. The previous night’s we had to survive on this forest’s wildlife—taking what we need—nothing more even within that time he has shown he doesn’t fear the countless animals I almost had to kill. We continue to walk for several moments and I find myself stopping before my mind can even register what my body has done. “What?” he asks.
“Keep quiet.” I urge. I hear him move around behind me and I couldn’t help but scowl.
“Did you hear that?” A brute of a man questions, he scans the proximity around the camp with their small white tents—there are three—from what I see, they can hold up to three men each by the size. Taking into consideration that we may be out numbered I watch Varden, from behind me, where he stands a few meters back and I never realized I had crept towards the clearing with a long blade in hand. Several men stand from where a fire is seen, its crackling flames dance in my ears and I hear the sound of an unsheathing blade. Then and there; I knew we were cornered.
“Drop your weapon and put your hands on your heads.” I glare at the blade at my neck. Not that I was concerned for me but the package falling into the hands of these bandits. The fact that this man, weaker than me has somehow managed to slip past me—I’m disgusted at my lack of awareness.
“Commander?” I hear Varden call with a worried voice; he’s brought to his knees with his hands, behind his head. My hands bound behind my back as they gawk at me. If they intend to strike fear into me or overpower me. They’re fools. One largely built man, stares down at me with desire painted exceedingly in his grey eyes. His lack of hair fails to protect his head from the UV rays.
“Wat’cha hiding under there?” he peers as he points the tip of his blade to the lining of my face-plate. The blade pinning the side of my face enough it draws blood, I hear Varden grunt at the action but ignore him.
“Desperate to find out are we?” I question and I’m immediately back-handed. A metallic taste floods my mouth. The bitter taste it has creates an un
“Don’t speak back to your superior!” he snarls, that action—that need for dominance—forces my lips to stretch into a dangerous yet mocking smile that I didn’t feel.
“You mean because you’re a man?” Even on Earth some men still think they rule the universe when their species is insignificant in comparison to time.
“Exactly,” I continue to smile. They never hunt alone—always in a group—always in a pack like a bunch of rabid dogs—like a bunch of cowards. “Wad’re you smiling at?” His tone grim as his eyes narrows down on me.
“Nothing really, nothing other than your; poor manner of speech,” I tease and the other men burst out laughing. I take in the sight of the three other men; one’s slender like Varden while the others are no doubt built like Hercules. I frown, I’ll have to exploit their weakness and quick, the more I sit here, the more time I waste. There is also one main reason I need to return and quickly—one that doesn’t involve Varden.
“Think you’re smart, don’t cha.” he snaps lifting me from the front of my cloak effectively pulling me to my feet.
“Maybe, pop quiz. What does it take for a woman to be in a high position?” I ask, catching him off guard. “Strategy,” I effectively draw my boot in between his legs. He drops me immediately. I round house sending him into one of the nearby tents stacked around us like a fence. The fire not too far from me burns with intense desire and passion.
I encounter the next three where they stand. I don’t hesitate and sprint towards them, leaping, I force both my feet to the chest of the slender built man who falls back at my force. I land on the ground; air is forced from my lungs. I spring back to my feet once again and begin to dance a deadly battle of skill as I take on two of the larger man while Varden continues to order me around.
“Round house!” he calls, “Block! Counter!” I follow his orders as I see that they were the most effective movements at the time. Sending a high kick towards the nose of one of the largely built man, his nose is force back, he stands still for a moment before falling down to the ground. The next wraps his large arms around me and I feel the force of his strength crushing my ribs, hearing the slender man with black hair huff and slowly move to his feet.
Moving my head to the side—exposing the man who restrains me, I kick him three times—with undeniable force. His arms become slack and I head
butt him with the back of my head. He falls to the ground while the next one—the one I finished earlier—attacks me. He’s quick with his movements and nimble too.
I find myself at a quick pace of quick paced martial arts; this world is different yes but that I have to say is what made it more fun. I block his hands here and there before I find an opening in his defense, stepping in; I elbow him in the sternum then elbow him square in the face where blood pools out. The red liquid falls down his face as his white teeth are lined a brown—crimson color.
He’s amused? The thought of him is utterly annoying.
I punch him in the Adam’s apple and he gasps for air. Bringing up my knee I catch him square in his abs, he bends over—his body obviously reacting to the nerve impulses. I spin bringing my leg up—fast—I flog it down on the back of his head where he falls to the ground. I eye the motionless bodies around me.
My hands still bound.
I turn to the fire and place my hands before the warm flames, it douses over my hands and I hear Varden gasp. “Are you crazy?” he questions with fear and the rope falls from my wrists. “What the…” he gapes staring at me with wide eyes. His blue eyes fill with confusion, a hint of fear and something else.
I make for him. “Turn around.” I order, his back, up against the bark of a large thousand year old tree looks oddly uncomfortable. Like the many others which made the forest what it was, what it is—a natural beauty. He follows the order I had given, without complaint, to my surprise. Not that I would admit it aloud. I slice through his restraints and help him to his feet to stretch his legs. No doubt sitting on the ground crossed legged would cause stiffness of muscles.
“Well that proves it.” I turn to him with a straight face not that he could tell.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re scary when you’re not aggressive. I really don’t want to piss you off.” he says with humor twinkling in his perfectly pale blue eyes as a smile curls at the corner of his not too small not too large lips that sit well upon his broad jaw. Taking a closer look I see that he’s rather handsome. I push the thought aside as I realize where my train of thought is leading. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s go.” I say, searching the sky I see the sun isn’t exactly noon. Finding where it had risen from, I head west knowing, the town is a day away. By the time we reach the town, it’s sunset, the blazing sunset-orange and calming magenta gives the sky an artistic mold of colors. Varden didn’t speak much, after I mentioned bandits roamed this forest. I’m not sure if he is just trying to keep an eye out for one in order to not repeat the previous encounter with those brutes—earlier.
The journey from the bandit’s campsite was long and vigorous, Varden had asked for a break every now and again. I obliged realizing we couldn’t waste any more time than we already have. The town of Alland is full with excitement and noise; as colors decorate the prospering municipality. I’ve never really paid much attention to the towns I’ve visited in the past but I can tell that this is definitely in a celebrating mood. The air is filled with joy and sweat from a hard day’s work.
I step skillfully through the crowd, winding my way around the bends of corners and down the narrow stone streets, where carriages and wagons pass by. The clamor wraps its need to be recognized around my head almost making me feel crazy, I can hear the laughter of children in the park, the clattering of hooves and the conversations of the riders that sat in the coaches. The growls of shopkeeper as they scold children for stealing their goods and animals—ranging from dogs to birds. I lean against a wall. I didn’t even notice Varden approach. “Are you all right?” he asks, his tone full of concern and I straighten up.
“Fine, just too much to take in.” It’s beyond too much.
“Not a city person?” he questions with a hint of amusement.
“You find that funny?”
“No. Odd yes,” He moves before me, unaffected by it all. He holds out hand with a smug look on his face. “I’ll look after you.” I scowl, he laughs. I push myself from the wall and tread past him not even dare glimpsing at the expression I know playing, across his features. His high cheekbones compliment his smile which makes me more—surprisingly—restless. The smell of smoke seals my senses and I’m drawn back to the sight before me as I move along the damp stone streets, buildings built with bricks as their roves are that of thatch. I aim to empty my mind knowing that’s how I solve this issue, preeminently.
“We best move.”
“Why? Where are we going to go?” he asks.
“To an Inn or do you want to sleep in the streets?” I question with a flat tone not even daring to look at him. He’s still annoying but far more than before.
“An Inn’s good.” he mutters under his breath which I hear perfectly but act as though I didn’t. He’s seen enough to know that I’m not of his world. I hear his feet pace fast as he scurries after me as I maneuver through the crowd of people who judge me with suspicion since my identity is essentially hidden; understanding why they were wary. “Wait up!” he calls and I continue to speed towards our destination. I stop standing before a small Inn at the edge of the town; it is far more peaceful out here and less nosy. With that, I know I would be able to engross in some well-earned sleep. I enter the inn pushing open the brown wooden door with an engraved brass plate, above it, reading: ‘Moonlight Inn’.
The sound of a bell, hanging above the door, presents our company. The Moonlight Inn is a simple yet elegant hostel comfortable for travels of all ages where wooden chairs cater around circular wooden tables in the small foyer/waiting room. From what I see, Varden expected someplace else for us to reside—it is—amusing on my part. I make my way over to the counter where I tap the bell; it chimes gently throughout the small hall.
The four-by-four room is lined in dark brown thick wooden beams. A bookcase stands proudly, behind the counter, while the vestibule has a succession of passable couches, plain wooden chairs and coffee tables for the guests to wait. A soft tap of steps make their way from the back room and the sound soon greets us—halting behind the large wooden desk. A familiar woman with red hair and gentle green eyes smiles at me. “Commander Rodregas. What may I do the honor of?” Her voice is warm and soft. Her ivory face is youthful and supple; with her features I’m surprised she’s not married already.
“Two single rooms please.” She eyes the man behind me and frowns.
“I’m sure your husband wouldn’t mind sharing a bed.” she declares. Varden apprehensively coughs—I shake my head.
“We’re not like that. I’m working.” I say, leaving it at that knowing I can’t say anymore. She nods—understanding. I place the required amount of golden hexagon shaped coins on the table in Gazlin the countries’ currency.
“Third floor, rooms forty-eight and forty-nine.” she declares before adding, “Or would you prefer opposite ends of the hall?” The quirk of her brow is evident enough she finds this amusing. I fight the urge to be rude.
“Honestly I don’t care.” I manage and she reputes Varden with an indifferent gaze before smiling, I turn to him to see, he shrugs at my confusion. That man lately; has been nothing but that—confusing.
“Rooms forty-eight and nine it is.” she confirms before handing the keys to me, she smiles wider than before. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you…” I mutter slowly and take the keys. She winks at Varden before smiling back at me innocently. That was odd. Even for her. I brush off her quaintness and attempt to listen.
“Dinner will be available at seven decicons.” I nod knowing that decicons are that of hours on Earth. She scampers off to where she entered from, I turn to the wooden staircase positioned right of the counter. I lead Varden to our rooms. My door, at the end of the hall, has two digits encased in gold in the center of the dark polished wooden door, reading; ‘Forty-Nine’.
“Forget the truth and focus on the unacceptable, is that which rules the world it’s the unforeseen truth that we suff
er as they do. We are not the key you are.”
I stop and turn over my shoulder to see nothing. Brushing the voice off—thinking I was only hearing things, I open my door and enter my room. By the time seven arrived, I find myself sitting at a table opposite Varden in a room full of people. Their presence and impeccable chatter annoys me like a fly—something in which I cannot easily swat away. The smell of different aromas radiates from the various meals clustered on silver plates. Dana is quite the cook I have to admit, as long as you didn’t destroy what her father spent his whole life creating, she would cater to you to the best of her ability—within acceptable requirements and anything less; she’ll kick them out.
The small dining hall is furnished by a high dome ceiling where a wooden chandelier dangles—its candle lights complement the yellowish-golden glow within the Inn radiating from the side lanterns that sit in the wall, burning fiercely but gently. I turn to my bowl of rice and stir-fry where the thick pasta slightly sizzles on my tongue in a comforting way. Varden instead preferred meat with potatoes, beans, carrots and corn. Still it smells nice too. “The pros of good food.” he purrs.
“Well sorry I made you eat rabbits.” I reply. His face is soon tinted a pink color. “You okay?” I inquire. That question only adds to the cerise color which now covers whole his face. I give him a side look and he moves to the cup of water beside his plate and devours it in one go clearing his throat his face remains the same but I see that he’s forcing to keep a straight face. He’s an odd man.
“Fine.” he manages after some time which I don’t buy. Still I leave it at that. The air feels still the oddness in which floods my senses, sending my mind on high alert.
We’re not alone…
A Crimson Tale Page 2
