A Crimson Tale

by K. L. O Johnson

  “Took your time.”

  “I have time to kill.” I retort glaring back at him.

  “We need to continue towards the base of those mountains.” he says nodding his head in the direction they came and I nod. Feeling someone’s eyes on me I know than they are watching me—waiting. Waiting to see if I’ll keep my word or slip up, if that’s the case than I’ll have to play my cards carefully. I have no idea why I agreed to Golgotha’s request but the idea of being left alone in this world made me feel better, it made me feel more secure. No one can hurt me nor can I hurt them. It seems like the best way to live. The question is: “will I be willing to cut myself off from the rest of the world? Or will I be hesitant like now?”—My eyes land on Varden from over Altair’s shoulder. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” he demands and I trace my gaze back to Altair’s firm face. He doesn’t look too pleased not that I care at the moment. “You are to hang back with Varden, I’ll scout the area.” This makes me want to punch him.

  “Fine.” I say without argument and he gives me a confused expression for a moment before leaving me with Varden, Altair without another glance. By the time, he’s gone I make my way over to Varden and sit down on a boulder beside him. “Did you mean what you said?” I blurt out after a moment of awkward silence.

  “About what?”

  “When you and Altair were practically gossiping,” I utter. His face twists into a screen of surprise and I fight back a smile. “Did you mean what you said…you know about it being not that big of a deal? What I’ve done I mean.” I add the last part and he turns from me his eyes are locked onto Altair’s now vanished form and I continue to watch him after some time I turn away to get up feeling slightly let down.

  “I did.” he says after a moment pause. I stand not too far from the cluster of boulders scattered off to the side of a natural trail where we sat. His gaze lands on me with an unreadable expression—eyes firm. “I mean…it’s not what you did then, it’s what you do now.” he declares and I translate this as: “I know you’ve changed” I couldn’t help but think how he’s jumped to that conclusion, then again, he’s seen aside of me that not everyone can see.

  I turn to Varden—surprised. A smile forms on his face and I couldn’t help but smile myself, not a false smile, a genuine smile. It’s like the world stopped and he is the only one I saw. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” he says still holding a smile.

  “There are Covenant flanks, north and north-east.” Altair declares walking towards us. It didn’t seem that long he was gone but the position of the sun tells me otherwise. He stops before us and continues to direct his fingers in the general directions. “Spotters are seen floating around and Bilants are not too far behind with Hunters.”

  “So there’s a lot.” says Varden, slowly, unsure by the terms.

  Altair nods.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t let them touch you.” he says and Varden turns to me for confirmation which I was surprised he needed from me but didn’t let it show. I nod. He turns to Altair to discuss the next phase of action while a pang of guilt fills my stomach. The sun has set and I lay under a shrub regarding the burning fireplace. Still feeling the presence of someone over my shoulder—I ignore it.

  I won’t give my stalker the contentment of knowing I know. I’m playing a very dangerous game I know that but I have no option. I would take back those words but Golgotha will not accept them and I have no idea what brought it on but something told me to agree, something told me to keep my enemies closer. Still, is it worth it? Varden will no doubt consider me a traitor and I wouldn’t want to hurt him in that sense but my word was final. I glaze the campsite. Men and women sit around the campsite; large fur beasts, slender shark-like women and heavily armored demons. Their black armor is the only dead giveaway and their glowing red eyes that stand out of the shadow. I wait for the signal—there it is!

  The men and women surrounding the first bonfire move and investigate. I know is Altair drawing their attention. I push aside the shrub and creep into the clearing, slowing peering over my shoulder and around me. My eyes and mind remain vigilant should I run into danger. The thought of what they would do to a Knight in their territory didn’t sit well with me and I feared the worst even if that were to happen. I wouldn’t give them the satisfactory of seeing my pain or running my mouth. I would be silent as the night.

  I slip into a few tents and assassinate a few that slumber in their sleep before setting their tents on fire—as a sign to the other’s that one objective is down and several more to go. A volley of flaming arrows fly through the sky one after the other but they are spaced at tight intervals there I know its Varden raining down on the parade. I know he isn’t exactly supposed to be involved but we couldn’t exactly leave him alone. The last thing I want was for him to be captured by the enemy. Then again; isn’t he already? The campsites are set up in a pattern; left, right, right, left. I can’t help but move through the forest, through the tree branches and to the next camp where I repeat what I did before. While Altair takes care of the men and women he has drawn to himself.

  This plan seems to be working effectively when I stop at my last destination. The air is silent and I see they haven’t noticed my presence nor have they noticed their numbers dwindling. The silence is what confirms our plan and its achievement. I sit on a branch, in the shadows of the forest and creep along it like a panther. The sight of me will probably cause people to be frightened but I’ve always crawled along things like an animal—it’s only natural. “Well haven’t you been busy.” says a familiar voice and I turn to see a white clothed man. Lifet!

  “What are you here?” I demand.

  “Watching.” he says and I pull out my blade and point it to his throat. His hands are held up as his back is forced more against the bark. I can see his lips curl into a smile under his hood where his clothes are designed in a way that it is for combat and to cease to exist, at any moment. From what I see—he’s very good at it. “Whoa. I’m on your side.” he says and I tilt my head to the side—my face plate hides my eyes which bore into his form with suspicion and speculation that he knows I feel.

  “Why are you here?” I repeat and it’s his time to question.

  “Do you always repeat yourself?” he asks and I glare. I don’t say anything and he sighs obviously defeated, I fight back a smile that threatens to spring across my face. Still, this man is strange though, I know he’s no coward. There had to be a reason he disappeared in that destroyed town. I was going to question it when I hear movement to the right of me, my eyes dart back to the campsite. The men and women are gone; I turn back to where Lifet who has now vanished. Yep, definitely evasive! I have no idea where the enemy has gone. I slip down from my branch when something tackles me from behind to the ground. I land on the hard dirt earth, the air expels from my lungs. My arms fight the grip—I begin to crawl out of his hold when he tries to fight my arms by my side.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” his husky voice growls roughly in my ear as I feel the prickle of his unshaven bearded against my face. I become still—he freezes. He’s surprised by my sudden surrender. “That’s a good girl.” he says as he forces my arms behind me and bounds my hands once again. Why people seem to keep my arms from causing them trouble is frustrating? Feeling the weight lighten from upon me, I’m forced to my feet where I hear the sound of my sword being drawn out. I clench my teeth and fight my muscles to remain still. That’s my father’s sword their touching. No one touches the only thing I have left to remember him by—no one.

  “Nice sword you got here.” comments a man who walks to stand before me with a proud look on his face as he eyes the intricate design of the pummel, the characters inscribed on the wide sharp double-edged blade and the hand guards designed like claws—they weren’t any claws—they were Dragon Claws. I don’t say anything as he grips the hilt lightly swinging it around himself—attempting—to find a balance with the new weapon which I know he cannot have. I
would rather cut of his hand than hand it over to him. He eyes the green emerald in the center of the blade and the crest under it, the lines creates three claw marks with the shape of a circling wingless dragon. “What does this mean?” he asks me.

  “It’s not yours.” It’s my family insignia. I’s my identity.

  “Well it is now, Knight. Kill her.” he orders and stalks away while a woman stands with a strung arrow which is release, I shift my weight and feel the man who held my upper arms fell lip at my feet the woman’s eyes are eclectic and I race towards her. Effectively dodging every arrow, I can see race towards me. She’s accurate but I’m quick and refuse to die here. I slip behind a tree, where I skip my feet over my rope woven wrists to my front. Moving my hand down to a dagger on the side of my boot, I pull it out and slice through the rope with ease. I pull out my second curved dagger on my opposite leg where I roll over my shoulder out of my hiding spot and race towards her. Arrows are sent my way and I slip my blades around in my hands slicing the arrows—blocking their trajectory. Her eyes are wide and I tackle her. Snapping the bow I sliver her throat.

  Two other men move to fight me, their swords drawn, I step around one and disarm him. Taking his blade, I slice his thigh muscle where his leg buckles I slice his throat. The next runs towards me and we clash blades, I’m quick with my footwork and slice his unarmored wrist, his grip on the blade ceases and I slice his shoulder where I spin around him. Forcing my blade through his back he cries out in pain and falls to the ground after I remove my blade. I drop the light weapon on the ground. It was like a feather compared to my father’s blade. I hear a whistle in the air and turn to the sound where the sound of puncturing kernel fills my ears.

  A bowman falls to the ground and I stare at the throwing knife in his head. I turn to where I suspected it came from and nothing. It’s not a Knight’s throwing knife I know that much but don’t think too much about it and race after the leader. I find him standing by a river on a large rock where other stones fall around it, I sweep him from his feet and he falls, snapping his neck on the rocks below where he ceases to move. My blade is embedded in the sand bank and I drop down onto the water that splashes around me after my impact. I pull my sword from where it stands erect and swing it to the side where the mud slides from my steel blade and sheath it before going on my way.

  By the time all the Covenant Agents had fallen, I return back to the last camp and search each tent for a map or something that will indicate if there are more in this area or the plans Golgotha has for Varden. I light the remaining tents on fire where they soon burn themselves out and remain nothing but smoke and I return to where I’m required to meet the others. As I wonder through the forest I stop as I feel a familiar presence behind me. “There’s no need to keep sneaking around.” I say.

  “But that’s the fun part.” says Lifet and I turn to face him.

  “Why did you help me?” I ask referring to the throwing blade embedded in the bowman’s forehead. The image as traumatic and evident in my mind—I remember all of those who have died before me, all of those who have died in my squads. Their insignias I can draw place them to their identification numbers and write out their owners.

  “What gave you the idea it was me?” he questions with a straight face and I turn from him and continue on my course. If he didn’t want to tell me the truth than fine! I won’t press but I did deserve this much at least. I needed to know if he was friend or foe. Still I see he continues to play a game of cat and mouse, I stop and turn over my shoulder to see he has vanished. No surprise I tell myself which I know that’s far from the truth. This isn’t exactly something that will throw me off.

  I return back to the others who are sitting at the mouth of a cave, the full moon—provides, the only light they need. This I have to say is what aided me in my search for the several campsites that and the fires that created a beacon not just for me but for anyone that were hunting the Covenant. I’m not going to say that it was easy—killing is never easy. Varden I see sits on the ground his bow leans against the stone wall beside him while Altair sits with his blade between his legs as he uses to support his weight. My feet are silent along the earth and by the time they notice me I’m standing before them. “How did it go?” asks Varden and I turn over my shoulder and take in the dark layout of the forest.

  “Fine,” I say as I return my attention back to him.

  “We should get a move on.” remarks Altair. We have to keep moving or risking being killed in our sleeps like the unfortunate Covenant members. The next day we manage to make our way back to the Inn and I move to my room where I see at one end of my bed where a bedside table is positioned. There a sculpture of a frost dragon made of ice is seen—it’s cold I can smell it but it refuses to melt I had no idea why that was though still I move towards it and pick it up. Within the sculpture there is a moving golden diamond—I’m surprised by it but the moment I trace my hand along the center of the dragon’s stomach it glows and enters my finger. I see the light sliding up my hand to rest within my chest. I feel pressure surround me before it is forced from me, my cloak and everything else in the room moved. The dragon is gone. “Kal?” I hear Altair comment as he knocks on the door.

  I don’t answer. He enters.

  “You okay?” he asks as I know he heard the movement of the furniture. He scans the wooden floorboards where my feet are rooted and gazes back at me—he can smell it too. Power! “You hungry?” he asks and I nod.

  “Ravished,” I say.

  “Good. We’ll eat out. Get more of a sight of the town.” he says and finding Varden we leave and head towards a small restaurant at the end of the small town. As we stalk through it, more and more people seem to notice where I walk, seem to notice me. It’s really odd.

  “What’s with everyone?” questions Varden in a whisper beside me.

  “I don’t know.” I confess for once. I didn’t know.

  “They may appear friendly but keep your guard up.” Altair continues to stride before us, his face impassive like the rest of us. I try to keep my eyes on his silver hair as he leads us towards the restaurant where we enter and everyone stops and stares at us. This scene is all too familiar when you’re the new kid at a new school because you had to move homes everyone seemed to stop what they were doing just so they can glimpse at the new girl. It really annoyed me than and still annoys me now. Each set of eyes are glued to us mainly—Me. I wonder if they know something I don’t this is something that often seems to be the case these days.

  I wonder than if Altair was responsible for the frost dragon but his reaction from earlier says otherwise. We make our way towards the far table where I sit with the two in a small cubical. “So are we here to eat?” asks Varden.

  “I don’t think so.” I say.

  “We’re not here to eat.” Altair notes and I don’t say anything. If he wants to take charge I’ll let him, it’s only in his nature but I’ll be the one to answer to the higher ups. The men and women within the bar continue to gaze our way but reluctantly is not as intense as before—I thought it was a first time seeing a person thing but now I fear it’s more than that. I keep my thoughts to myself when I see a man in black a golden tattoo on his face at the corner of the room. Our gaze meets and his lips turn up into a smile. I must have been lost for some time because I notice that both Altair and Varden are looking at me with concern. I turn my gaze from the man and to Altair.

  “I’m sorry.” I say, clearing my throat.

  “I said there may be more Covenant troops.”

  “Commander Rodregas.” a voice says and I turn to it to see Lucinda.

  “Lucinda?” I ask confused. She smiles and hands me a black envelope.

  “This is for you, it arrived at the Inn an hour after you left.” she says. I grasp the letter and Lucinda leave and I turn over the letter in my hand before slipping it open, the scripture written in yet an unfamiliar hand.

  Dear Commander Rodregas,

  Winter isn’t forever froz
en-hickory, dickory, dock.

  - G.

  I turn to Altair, he questions, “What does it say?” I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. He holds out his hand and I hand it to him. He skims over the writing. “Hickory, dickory, dock.” he mutters with confusion. “What does a clock have to do with winter?”

  “Seasons?” adds Varden, he shrugs when I glance at him. Obviously unsure about what possible answer it could be other than it being a riddle the question is though why would we need a riddle and for what purpose. This day just seems to become stranger and stranger, at each passing minute. I glaze at the opposite end of the room to see that the man with the golden tattoo of a dragon on his face is now gone. It’s like he was never there to begin with. An odd sensation runs through me. He’s trying to keep an eye on me.

  “And who’s G?” wonders Altair as he turns to me. “Kal?” he asks as he follows my gaze. I turn from the far table and shake my head. He returns back to the paper. I lied than I knew who it was but how could I go about saying who it is” Eyes are everywhere. They ensure I do not speak the name: Golgotha.

  “It’s Time.” I say.

  Moving across the same frozen meadow, I make my way towards the Dragon’s den. I enter the mouth of the cave, its silent—eerie silent but I don’t let it bother me. Instead I suck it up and slowly glide along the black stone ground. There is nothing—no one. I knew I had the right cave before I hear a voice tickle my mind. ’Why have you come?’

  ‘I have a question.’

  ‘I don’t answer to traitors.’ It remarks.

  ‘You don’t have to. Just hear me out.’ I begin before continuing. ’Golgotha has declared that I give her the Prince.’

  ‘So why don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ I say after a moments’ silence. I didn’t expect a wise dragon to just tell me to hand over one of the most important people in Zylaria over to the enemy. That will just taint my name as a Knight—I’ll not let that happen. ‘I don’t think I can.’