“Nothing.” I say as I turn to him where he stands beside the horses.
“Where did you get that?” I ask eyeing the bow and arrow he has. His eyes fall to one of the men that tried to pull him from his horse.
“I didn’t think he’ll be needing It.” he confesses. His face is soft; I feel a tinge of guilt for killing them in front of him.
“We should get going, the sooner we leave the gorge the better. Also…” I begin, he mounts the horse before turning to face me, “keep that bow and those arrows close by. I have a feeling we’re going to be attacked again but only if you can handle killing, release the arrow.” I say slowly and he nods.
“I understand.”
“Good, let’s go.” By the time we leave the lush gorge, its mid-day, from where we are, riding along the side of the winding path that leads to the top of the gorge, the forest seems very peaceful but I knew it was anything but that. Appearances can be deceptive. There is a town not too far away that we manage to reach by nightfall without any more trouble, not that I’m complaining.
We manage to find lodgings and the air and everything seems normal—or close enough. I still make sure my room was close enough to Varden’s in case. I would always tell myself that I was just this close to protect him but there were times when I would question; why am I protecting him? Finding my mind restless on the matter, I move from my bed and open my window. I slip out into the night.
The air is calm and warm. I leap across alleyways that break the buildings and the roves I easily glide across finding the highest point I make my way to the Cathedral in the distance. Once I made it, I scale the rough walls and heave myself above the roof of the bell tower. The view from it, vividly displays the whole town of Deseryx. The glowing lanterns were lit here and there like fireflies. The sight was breath-taking even for me, still it feels like, this place is the only place I have to think and ground myself. Then I hear a clatter of footsteps upon the same dense tiles not too far from me with the persistent tattering, I find it difficult to miss.
I duck around and behind the large crucifix, my hands grasping it carefully. I glance across the stacks of unmoving and still houses, to see a glowing silhouette, his back is to the moon, he’s dressed in all white as luminous and present as a full moon. He wears a hood; he leaps from the ledge to another roof and moves quickly along the slating. I make the unnecessary mistake of following him—keeping several meters back but ensuring he stays within my line of sight.
He’s quick, though. Surprisingly he’s on route to the lodgings we are currently staying at. The large stone building in the distance ahead of us, with four large towers, the lights that lit the inn is encouragement for this man and I wondered why he was after it before I pull out my blade and realize what exactly he is.
An Assassin!
If he is what I think he is, I might not be able to allow him to walk away unharmed. If he is after the package than we have a real problem, the question is: why would they send an Assassin for a pick up? My eyes drift to the Inn and I realize than the package may not be exactly what I thought it was to begin with. I can smell the colder air of the next day. I propel myself over the wooden fence on the roof where I stood on a balcony, hidden hopefully from his peripheral vision.
I knew than I would have to get to Varden before he did, I drop down from the roof and sprint down the streets, passing several people who eye me with frustration and confusion. I didn’t care not did I slow down, by the time I made it back to the Inn I was fairly sure I’m ahead of the Assassin. I pass the counter where the receptionist eyed me with oddness. I storm up the stairs where, I see the same man in white from outside one of the windows.
I hide around a corner for a second and wait. I check once again and he’s gone. I frown. He’s like a phantom. There one minute gone the next. I quickly pace towards Varden’s room, I rap the door gently at first hearing no movement I rap it again with more force. I finally hear movement on the other side of the door, “I’m coming. I’m coming.” I hear him mutter under his breath. Once he opens the door, I push past him. “Kalverya? What are you doing in my room?”
“Pack, we’re leaving.” I say.
“What!” he growls in frustration. Crossing his arms over his body, I only than realize he’s wearing a towel. I turn away. “You know you caught me at a bad time.” he admits in reference to where my eyes landed.
“Sorry about that but someone’s after us.” I say. He freezes. I move over to the curtain and wait, I peer out and see nothing, and he’s gone once again. I sigh at my frustration. He is a very evasive man!
“What do you mean someone?”
“I mean an Assassin. Now get dressed.”
“Can you leave?” he demands and I move over to his satchel and pull out his clothes.
“Dress!” I order and point to the lavatory. He grasps it reluctantly before entering the bathroom. I sit on the bed and prey I’m not seeing things. I turn to the window and I see a faint layout of a white hood. I stand. He’s here.
“Varden?” I call. As I move to the door, I drum it quietly.
“What?” He swings the door open frustrated, his forehead in firm creases, his brows narrowed and jaw muscle twitching. I believe at this point he wants to yell at me but is fighting the urge to do so, I don’t blame him. I did kind of enter his room uninvited when he was practically naked.
“He’s here.” I whisper and like that the glass shatters. I shield Varden and myself from the oncoming shards to see the same man from before than a thought occurred to me. I had to be sure. I tell myself. The man slowly rises from the ground, two blades in hand and he turns to us. I move between the two. “Who are you?”
“A warrior of God.” he says and I give him a side look. Really he’s going to say that he sounds like a lunatic. Yet there are people in this universe who believes in our creators not that there’s any evidence of their existence. Just like the universe, it is still ever expanding.
“Why are you here?”
“Hand over the package and I won’t kill him.” he says pointing one of his blades to Varden who steps back. I hear the tapping of wood. I glimpse at Varden’s hand at the corner of my eye, he lifts his bow and a single arrow. The arrow positioned in the bow; ready to be fired still the assassin doesn’t seem to be bothered. I guess I wouldn’t either but seeing how Varden had taken down several enemies, he appears to know not just how to shoot but has had experience which I’m sure will be beneficial for us in order to survive.
“Why should he die?”
“Because, he’s my target,” I glance at Varden surprised, his face grim and I feel as though that he’s frustrated but this time it’s not directed at me. I wonder if he was hiding something from me I know everyone has their secrets and everyone has their crosses to bare but this was something I have to say shouldn’t have been hidden if he meant he would die. I was surprisingly enjoying having company on my long journeys.
“Varden?” I question with confusion. Why the assassin would be after him made me curious, I couldn’t help but wonder about that. Still it was strange hearing it roll off the tongue of the enemy.
“Yes, Varden, if that is even his real name.” comments the Assassin.
“And you are?” I demand.
“Lifet is my name,” he says with a bow.
“I’m sorry but he’s not handing over anything.” I say with an even tone, he regards me for a moment with dark eyes and I pull out my knives.
“Have it your way.” he snarls and launches himself at me. The sound of slashing metal fills the room and Varden I hear still stands in the bathroom, our movements were quick. I throw my knives at his form, he dodges it quickly and I scowl.
He appears to be a lot quicker than normal Zylarian men. The soldiers and warriors I went up against were normally penetrated by my knives. I’m forced to the ground in a blink of an eye and struggle under him with my forearm guard at his neck, my fist curl tightly, I fight the urge to slice his throat there with my blade,
surprisingly I feel something sharp and cold still against my scales and I glare at him, my blade slowly becomes released. It slides along his neck and into his hood.
In one move he’ll be dead.
“Have it your way.” I repeat and he scowls.
“Get off of her or I’ll shoot.” threatens Varden. I am surprised at the amount of venom in his voice but don’t show it. Slowly the man in white pulls himself from me with his hands raised and I frown. He isn’t much of an assassin. As if he heard my thoughts; he smiles at me with a very unsettling smile. The sight of him smiling would have made me uneasy if I weren’t used to those sinister smiles already. Moments later, he’s bound on the bed, arms and legs restrained and Varden turns to the door. “I’ll prepare our horses.” he says and I nod, leaving me with the Assassin. His smile still present and I fight the urge to punch him. I figured I would refrain from that since he appears as though he would enjoy it to my disbelief but with that painted expression and those cats like eyes anything is possible with him.
“We’ll I’m surprised.” he declares after a long pause, I turn to him. My face blank as ever as my face plate scanned his body, taking in his height and every other piece of information I may need if I were to meet him again.
“About what?”
“Nothing…” he trails off his face still with mischief and I scowl. I hear racing footsteps after several minutes of silence. The assassin will no doubt be after us, the moment we are gone, better to leave now and quick before he can catch us. I hear Varden’s footsteps approach the door, he swings it open and we leave. I set a pace that leaves the city behind, in the distance out horses run hard for our emanate departure. By the time we set up camp it’s midday, we were several days ride away from the town of ‘Pallin’ and I sit on a grey boulder mostly naked my parts—covered.
With a pill of water at my feet and a damp cloth, I began to wipe the muck and dirt from my skin, the sweat. I feel the warm water on my skin as the wind picks up making it feel cool. I regard the clear crystal water; the sun rays gently touch the calm waves creating an enchanting scene—in the distance—several islands. Yet, I have strange sensation that I’m being watched, I can’t help but think of the Assassin from the previous day.
At that instance I pick up my curved blade I had nestled beside me. Silence filled the clearing. I move along the clearing, blade in hand, the blade along my forearm where it is positioned ready to switch positions if necessary. I feel an oncoming presence, picking up my ears, I scan the tree line. Something is here, and I only have my dagger. The sound is something which elevates around the clearing, I feel those eyes firmly on me and I approach. Yet, I stop knowing that, this may not be the wisest move since he or she may be expecting such an occurrence.
I pick up a large stone where my fingers entranced the stone firmly. I sniff the air, grateful that I didn’t lose all my abilities of my heritage. I hear the crackling of leaves ever loudly and I toss the stone where I heard it, at the opposite end of the clearing. Thud! I sprint towards it. My bare skin no doubt is being sliced from the thick branches as I have to be wary of my footing or risk having a snare trap plunged into my feet. The thought of that surprisingly didn’t sit all that well with me. A blur at the corner of my eye was seen and I tackle it, I top of it I sat where I place the blade to his throat. “Varden?”
“H–e–y…” he says slowly, “I came to ask. If you wanted me to save you, some food?” His face is full of excitement and shock at the same time.
“What’s with the creeping around? You can just come and tell me.” I say as I pull myself from him and help him to his feet.
“What are you talking about, I just got here.” he admits with confusion. I stare at his words. How was that possible when I felt as though someone was watching me for a good fifteen minutes? His pulse remained normal as he wasn’t sweating so I figured he wasn’t lying but that is something that isn’t always right. I’ll have to trust his words.
“Sorry for tackling you.” I say.
“It’s alright, you didn’t hurt me.” he says and I give him a side look, crossing my arms I purposely raise my brow and he looks away before back saying, “Alright maybe you hurt me a little, but only a little.”
We ride through the forest when I smell smoke and the sound of crackling wood the sound pops in my ears, I pull up my horse. “What’s wrong?” he asks from beside me. I hear the sound of screaming and slashing flesh. I urge my horse into a full gallop and I hear Varden call out after me but I ignore him, it sounded like people. The scent of burning flesh fills my nose and I fight the hunting desire in my blood, the dragon, in desire for a meal. Why would I be hungry when I ate a while ago? Then again, I haven’t had raw meat and blood for a long time—I curse my biological needs, to be a beast is something I cannot completely ignore.
The branches slap my face and limbs, the pain non-existent. I continue to jaunt through the dense forest, following my nose succeeding that which I know best. It may be, me, overreacting but the scent of burning flesh is all too familiar. Back on Earth, many years ago. There were times when savage bush fires would ruin the southern lands of Australia, the southern lands of my home, explaining my English-Australian accent. Every fifty years or so, several; men, women and children never made it out and we were too late to help.
Ever since the Bush-Fires my nose has been far more sensitive, far more desperate—to pick up the scent sooner rather than later…I pull up my horse, at the edge of a cliff, where the scent of ash and smoke is more evident. Dark grey clouds ascend to the sky; it contrasts the white fluffy and calm clouds, several hundred thousand meters above ground. I hear the hooves of Varden’s horse. He stops beside me as he normally does. “No way.” he whispers in disbelief. His eyes are wide as he takes in the yellow, orange and red flames which engulf the town greedily. The sound of screams manifest and I dismount my horse.
“I’ll go ahead. Take my horse. I’ll see you soon.” He nods and I leap off the edge of the cliff, the grey walls line my silver and black form as I see the tree line on fast approach. My cloak and hair trail after me as I take to the trees. By the time I manage to make my way to the tow, I see carriages horseless and bodies everywhere. I hear a high pitched blood curdling scream—a woman. I sprint to the sound. Her messy brown hair sprawled down her back as ash streaks her beige features.
“There’s one still alive.” grunts a man in black, red armor, the Grattican!
“Kill her and be done with It.” orders the second of the three. The woman crawls along the dirt earth desperate to be free, desperate to survive. One of the men heavily armed approaches her figure a sinister smile playing at his ungodly features. I race towards them, my form warps and I find myself behind the two men—the bystanders of this whole ordeal.
I force out both of my forearm blades where one slices the throat of one man and the other is knifed in the stomach with my other blade, his eyes wide as I hear his heart slowing down. He drops, his last beat cease, his last intake of breath…is final. I throw a blade to the exposed throat of the man after he spun around in surprise. He falls down to the ground and the woman screams. I jog over to her.
“Hey, it’s okay. They can’t hurt you, now!” I say as she screams and fights me. “I won’t hurt you.” I manage, she stops, and her eyes lock on mine, fear evident in her chocolate colored eyes which blink in recognition to my words. Her eyes fall to the crest upon my chest and I help her to her feet once she had calmed down a bit. “They didn’t do anything to you did they?” I ask in fear of her mental well-being. She shakes her head. “Is anyone else alive?”
“No, they’re all dead.” she sobs and I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she releases the flooding pain of loss and sorrow. “My friends, my family, all gone!” Tears streak her face and I hear hooves racing in the distance, I turn to the sight to see a black spec in the distance. I turn back to the woman and stay with her until Varden arrives, once he does, the woman steps behind me and concern masks his features.
“It’s okay he won’t hurt you.” I reassure and go to him.
“Is there anyone else alive?” he asks. I shake my head.
“No, this woman,” I begin looking at her before regarding Varden, “claims to be the sole survivor.” His face is grim and I move aside as Varden demounts his steed and holds out a hand to her.
“I’m Varden, you are?”
“If that is; even his real name.” whispers the same haunting voice.
4:Blood Brethren
© 2014—All rights reserved by author
PANAL PLAINS, BRONZE COUNTRY, 1715 ZYLARIA
“Mina.” she says, appearing more comfortable with Varden, specifically, after he placed a gentle peck on her hand like an upper class gentleman. Still ever since that incident with the Assassin, I’m starting to question who he really is and with that the trust I was almost willing to give. I close him off. Questions flood my mind. I leave Mina and Varden be, as they discuss the incident and search the reason as to why this town of all that lay with this valley, was attacked. Rubble and debris is left behind after the uproar of the ever dangerous and consuming flames of the fire.
The strangest part about this is it is not exactly—normal—per say. I kneel, my scale covered fingers are a different texture to that of the ash that mimics the colour of my biological uniform, my biological “malfunction”. There is, a warmth, radiating from the wood, I’m aware that the fire only has recently out burnt itself but the heat is somewhat intense. Not that I’m bothered; the fire would have done me no harm. The fact that it’s still so intense, does.
Bodies lay around me scorched and motionless. There’s something off about this place. My train of thought halts when I hear soft movement of feet emanating from the adjacent house, of the street where I stand. I approach the source, the tatter of feet I heard echoes in the ruined house, some part of the roof caved in creating a natural filter of skylight. This house would have been nice before it was destroyed. The dark brown wooden floorboards are covered in dust and ash. The white and calcined walls are lined in frames of paintings where at the far end is a scorched fireplace. I stop. Hearing quick movement of footsteps, once again, this time it was loud enough to cause the ash and dirt stuck between the still stable wooden floorboards to leak. Someone’s up there.
A Crimson Tale Page 4
