A Crimson Tale

by K. L. O Johnson

  “We are not the key, you are.” I freeze. The same voice reaches my ears and I feel odd but I know I’ve heard it. It sounded like someone whispered in my ear. It was like that before and now I can’t seem to understand what is happening right now. If, theoretically I’m not a schizophrenic, than I am hearing a voice that isn’t mine. Also, it’s the same message and each time the voice was female. I need to speak to Nerelda.

  The Contuse Sector is grand in side, its copper colored walls are complimented by the blood red banners that run down the walls. There are six major insignia’s on it. The first is the Order of Warriors—the iron fist with daggers embedded in it is its insignia this represents the Order of Soldiers, then there’s the Order of Mystical—the spell book under a sun represents the Order of Sorcerers.

  The Order of Riders—a figure positioned as if riding above him are a crescent moon and a six point star, the Order of Rangers—a cloaked man with a hood a soldier on one side and peasant on the next this represents their ability to blend, the Order of Stars—a glistening star above several lined mountains represents the universal travelers. The next is the Order of Souls—the head of a skull with a pentagram represents the spiritualists and finally the Order of Knights that is us. All of these individual Orders make up the universal Order.

  The one connected through all worlds and all levels of Transit; the past, the present and the future. They have always been around but never known to those who are guiding them, we are sworn to secrecy. Still there are several that go against our creeds and they are the Rouge. These are the enemy of all of us and are mostly likely in allegiance with the Covenant and the Grattican—some however; are just mindless killers. Our creed and our rules is what governs us without them, we are nothing but murders.

  One major rule—never take the life of an innocent.

  Some have chosen to go against this rule and as such we are sent after them to hunt them down. I stalk along the red and gold carpet that divided the armor and weapon lined room. There are crossbows, long-swords, axes, hammers, bows, curved knives, maces and many more above the heads of the empty armored suits. We continue to make our way along the long stretch of carpet and towards a woman behind a large wooden desk. You would mistake it for oak but it is not instead its ‘garmeth’ the wood with similar properties as oak but is a lot denser.

  I clear my throat and the woman looks up her red short wavy hair sits at her ears and her blue eyes regard us with aloofness. I return the expression. “You would be?” she asks me and I pull out my badge not necessarily in the mood to talk. “Knights.” she mutters as she glances at Altair than her eyes fall on Varden as I return my badge to its place. They are a lot colder and Varden shifts footing under her gaze. “And him?”

  “My assignment,” She nods knowing, that it may not be the first time.

  “The door on the left and down the hall, you’ll wait in the Common Room and Esmay will question you further.” She returns back to scribbling something down and I lead the way, the boys following closely behind. The heavy wooden door swings shut on its own and our feet clutter against the stone floor, wall torches line our path and create a golden and yellow glow. Entering the common room seems easy enough with red plush couches upon a Persian like carpet.

  “This is nice.” states Varden as he casually makes himself comfortable. Altair follows after him and I glance around the room, taking in every inch of the place and commit it to memory. He glances at me, “You coming to join us or are you going to stand there and be all paranoid?” he asks and I glare at him—not that he can tell. The sound of footsteps greets my ears and I turn to its source. A woman with brown hair appears and her green eyes regard us momentarily.

  “This way,” I follow after her and we are lead down another hallway, lined with torches and we enter a room. There is an empty desk in the far right corner and two wooden doors one to the right and one just before us. A large built in bookshelf is behind the empty desk and the bottom left of the rectangular room where the same plush couches and intricate carpets line the floor. There’s a dark wooden table that separates the couches and I presume that to be the waiting area. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be requiring the highest rank to fill in an evaluation form and to provide a recount of your journey.”

  Altair and Varden make themselves comfortable while I head to the woman. She hands me a clip board with papers, there is a quill and ink pod attached to it. I take it and find a seat opposite the boys. Something didn’t seem right, something appears to be amiss yet I have to find out what? Or so I thought. I stand erect once a man in a red and gold uniform conducts us to follow him. He never revealed much other than he was the Duke’s assistant/butler.

  Since when does a Duke Need assistance? Still I tried to not let it bother me but something did seem amiss. The walk to the Duke’s office seemed bleak and boring to a degree, I have yet to find any interest in the conversation Varden was having with Sarith (the Duke’s assistant/butler), and they seem to be getting along quiet well. I’m being watched. It’s not that I didn’t expect it but I’m interested into finding ways how this will benefit me, better yet, the Kingdoms of Zylaria.

  “Kalverya?” Varden questions, I look up realizing only then that the Duke had opened the door for us and I was the last to enter. “You okay?” he asks and I nod. Why Varden seems to be so perplexed by my sudden motion seems to be rather peculiar, I know he’s not the enemy or isn’t or has no contact with them but something just feels off. No matter how much I tried to shake it off—it still remains.

  “Well don’t just stand there, come on.” ushers Altair.

  I can’t, something’s wrong.

  “Of course there is.” comes the same voice. I stare at Altair and shake my head.

  “You guys go on, I need to check on a few things, I just remembered.” I lie and Altair gives me a side look as if trying to determine whether my words are honest or false. They’re false Altair, they’re false, there’s something terribly wrong in this area! I can feel it, can’t you?

  “Really?” he asks in an even tone which I know has a hidden meaning: “is that really the case?” Even now I can’t bring myself to tell him and I feel the eyes of Sarith on me but I avoid looking at him, it’s like no matter how tinted and obscure my faceplate is I feel as though he’ll know the moment I gaze at him.

  I can see the Duke in his seat his eyes are watching me carefully, one wrong move and I can insult him. One wrong move and he can send me to the Arena. Once I’m in the Arena I’ll no longer be recognized as a Knight but a criminal. In spite of everything I’ve done for this world, will he go that far? I wonder. Is this man so fed on keeping everything in order and controlled that he won’t allow me to hesitate. It’s like my feet began to move on themselves. I head towards the office. They watch me, confusion masks their expression. The Duke is impassive.

  “Then again, it can wait it’s not every day I get to see the Duke of Alland.” I stretch with a small smile and he returns the gesture, Altair and Varden enter the room and the Duke Mizreth la Largondale de Alland gestures to the seats before his desk and I oblige taking my seat directly across from him and Varden and Altair on the seats that lay either side of me. Now it’s time to put on the charm.

  “Lady Rodregas. You flatter me with your presence.” he teases, I tilt my head to the side.

  “Me? Flatter? Never, I’m merely stating a fact that the Duke of Alland is the most powerful in all of Zylaria. Tell me I’m wrong?” I ask as I intertwine my fingers over lap and cross my legs.

  “Quite right you are my lady but still you have no need to turn on that charm of yours now.” Altair clears his throat and I continue to gaze at the Duke. “Also, those helmets will be removed in my presence.” he states, his tone very demanding on the world: will. It wasn’t a suggestion that’s for sure. I remove my helmet and Altair does the same, he adds, “Let’s begin shall we. What brings you here?” he asks.

  “My assignment,” I say.

  “What
assignment may that be?” he asks.

  “The Prince.” His face is full of conflicting emotions within his eyes as he clenches his jaw tightly. He knew, he knows and yet still he’s trying to hide it. I knew something was wrong.

  “What are you talking about? I would know if the Prince is here.” he covers—very well might I add. His lips curl into an almost taunting smile and I return to my neutral expression. I wasn’t joking, I was stating the truth. Is he trying to brush of the facts—the facts are that which don’t lie?

  “He is here.” cuts in Altair and I lock my gaze at the Duke—taking in every inch of his face, his movements, his eyes and his heart beat I search for answers or rather reasons. I need clues and he’s already given me enough but not enough to use as evidence. The Duke’s gaze pulls from mine and to Varden. His charcoal hair cascades over his eyes making his blue eyes appear several shades darker. He forces a gentle smile. That’s another. Since when should smiles be forced if they’re genuine?

  “You mean…” the Duke trails off. I nod once his gaze returns to me. His face is blank of color. The next thing to do is clarification which is now what I do—Varden needs recognition of someone in the Royal Court and some in the Inner Circle of Parliament. “Well I didn’t expect that.”

  “No one ever does.” I say, “If you need I can give you my recount report. I’m sure all the evidence will be in there as well as the letter written by the Chief Commander and the Order’s Council recognizing Varden Savana as the only descendent of the Royal Family.” He nods attentively. “Good. We’ll be in touch.” I say and stand. The Duke rises and bows towards the ‘Prince’ and Varden looks at me for an explanation. I smile. You are Prince, you might as well get used to it you’re majesty.

  Dinner appeared around the corner faster than I can comprehend, why there seems to be a large jump in time made me almost dizzy at the thought but really we spent the whole day touring the city while Varden dragged me to stores. I told Altair to take him but he refused to, so instead I had to compliment what outfits did look good on him and what didn’t. At that point, I began to realize the pain men go through. You never should disregard something until it happens to you? Like abductions or murders. They are around and continue to cause people pain, my immediate response to Varden’s previous question, “How do I look?”

  “Dashing,” I had said, “Can we go now?” That question wasn’t the best conversation turner at all, I like clothes and shopping but I have to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, he may be the crown Prince but people are out for his blood. Only if he knew the things I did for him.

  “No. We can’t go. We’re going to see a play.” he said and I sighed. After the shopping it was the plays than the museums than the frozen beach finally we manage to make our way back at the Contuse Sector, now dinner is being dished out in front of us. From sea-food to red meats, various breads, cheeses and delicacies I can’t even name yet; which I have yet to identify. Still I don’t let it my eyes linger too long on the food or I fear it will be gobbled down by Altair and Varden, with little left for me; we sit around a circular table, and each of us is equally opposite each other.

  “Wow, this is good.” mutters Varden after a mouthful of food, I’ve never in my days, have I seen him devour meals like a forest bred animal, waffles of food is forced down his large neck which I fear will explode from the inside-out. The sight of it is both disgusting and intriguing. The sound of knocking occurs from the large wooden doors at the far end of the room. The glossy egress is forced open and the Duke is standing with the shadows of flickering lanterns. Tall, proud and dominating his exterior is and that is no exaggeration as his red and gold embodied attire complements his slicked—back hair. His eyes are trained on us.

  “Lord Mizreth, what do we do the honor?” I question. He smiles at me and enters the room.

  “I’m just making sure everything is in order. You know, making sure you’re comfortable.” Why is it that I get the feeling that’s not the only reason why you’re here? I smile at him and attempt to erase any thoughtful expression upon my face.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” I say.

  “It’s my pleasure Lady Kalverya. There are things that have to be at the standard of a Prince.” He gestures to Varden and I stop my spoon full of soup inches from my mouth. His heart is erratic. I glance at Altair and he meets my gaze we’re thinking the same thing. Why would the Duke be nervous unless he had something to hide? What are the odds? “Lord Altair, is everything to your liking?” Mizreth turns to Altair and smiles. Altair nods.

  “You know hospitality; everything is perfect, as always.” Altair places his forearms on the edge of the table and cups his hands over his now empty bowl. I know that Altair is just as curious as I am; so instead of having me worry myself to death about conspiracies I’ll just eat my meal in peace. Not paying attention to the conversation. Dinner soon ends and we return to our rooms. Altair’s words still flounder in my mind. “His heart beat was erratic and he was attempting to throw of the continuous sweating as a slight fever. We both know that just might not be true, if that man can sprawl over books he can most definitely hide a lie.” Hide a lie; is that what this man is doing?

  We arrive at the guest quarters and Varden appears a bit on edge, especially when we were in the common room. He kept looking at and away from the guards that had escorted us to our compartment as they spoke about the Duke of Alland. There were times when he would hop up from his seat at time and start pacing. I glare Altair that “what’s with him” look and he mouthed, “Nervous.” I nod and return back to the report and evaluation forms I had to fill out.

  Luckily there isn’t much to fill out but a lot to recount for my report and Varden’s fidgets didn’t help. I stood, causing Varden to stop and look at me as if a deer had seen head-lights before the collision. I pluck out my form and hand it to Altair; Lifet isn’t currently with us-something about him needing to gather some information. I had asked what it was and just said he had to meet with a ‘Guardian’ about what he’s learned about Varden being the next King.

  I didn’t argue and let him. It was better for him to find out what the Duke was up to than to sit here in a jumpy silence. I didn’t mind, in fact, I love d the silence it given me time to think and mentally wind down. “Why are you giving me this? It’s his.” states Altair, as he waves the pages towards Varden.

  “What’s mine?” he asks.

  “Your evaluation form,” I say, “given the duration of time I spent with you. I’m required to recount all the events that had, happened.” I continue to scribble down on the pages in Zylarian characters.

  “And?” he presses. I stop and glance at him. Varden shrugs.

  “We were attacked a bit.” I say and Altair scoffs. His ankles are crossed over his knee.

  “More like, a lot.” I glare at him and he acts innocent, questioning, “What?”

  “You’re, unbelievable.” I mutter.

  “You know I can hear you right?” he states with a smile and I shoot him one last glare before making my way towards the door.

  “That’s the whole point!” I bark slamming the door shut causing the two men guarding the entrance to jump. “Why do I have to marry him of all people?” I move down the gray stone halls and around several corners before finding my way to a large—wide stone staircase, a red and gold carpet is draped over it and at the bottom of the stairs is a rather peculiar brunette man, he is dressed in black and appears to be unfamiliar, there is an insignia of a spell book on the banner wrapped around his left arm. He glances at me with a blank expression.

  I walk down the stairs and pay him no mind, even though; I can still feel his eyes boring into the very crevice of my soul.

  *.*.*

  “Kal!” cried a voice. “Trin!” From within the shadows of the forest stood Dante, blood was smeared across his clothes that appeared as black oil marks under the darkness of the stars. My face felt wet and without thinking I ran into his arms and cried, sil
ently. I felt something warm wrap around me and I heard Trinity’s whelps muffled into Dante’s chest as he cradled us.

  “I was so scared. I never thought we’d live!” she wailed into him.

  “It’s okay…it’s okay.” he purred attempting to calm us. The sound of a terrible screech echoed around us—my blood froze. “Let’s go.” Dante released us and eyed the obscure shrubs, the moon light, filtered a crimson color due to the solstice which on our world lasts a whole night every one hundred years. He places his arm protectively across us with a sword in hand. He walks back forcing us back into the clearing of the quicksand.

  My body was still covered in mud, now, dry and itchy but I try not to scratch. The words of my survival instructor flooded my mind, “When covered in mud, fleas, nectar or sweat. Be vigilant. In your Idol form you are more at risk catching a disease or a fever, should you break skin.” I glanced down at my dry hands. They shook and I had yet to understand why that was, my heart was beating fast. I tried to remind myself that everything will be alright. I was with Dante; he would protect me, like he always did. Another twig snapped but this time from behind and I whipped my head around. There was nothing there.

  “Dante,” I said. He didn’t say anything but I knew he was listening. “What about Galataia?” I asked, I needed to know if she was okay, and I needed to know that they haven’t taken her. “Is she all right?” I added the last part, quietly, I glanced up at Dante to see his eyes were locked on me but he didn’t say anything. “Is she?” I pressed.

  “Kal,” Trinity smoothed, she was always the one to calm me down or reason with me and everyone we know. That’s why she was assigned to the Diplomatic Division but instead she withdrew and chose the Artillery Division. I had asked her why that was and she said that it didn’t feel right her words being, “I maybe good a negotiating but I don’t want to sit back and watch while my friends are killed.” I glanced at Trinity and her green eyes were soft. “She’ll be okay.”