A Crimson Tale

by K. L. O Johnson

  “How do you know?” I asked. She just smiled.

  “Because, she’s a Nindo, everyone that I know of the Nindo Clan are fierce and strong not because they have to be but because they want to be.” I nodded. That made sense, Galataia, was my sister, she had the blood of our father and mother, the two of which who bonded and passed their power to us while still retaining theirs. Each generation is always stronger than the previous that’s how our race has survived all these wars and all these battles, they survived relying on the next generation to out shine the previous but even though they may be stronger.

  The Elders and older Nephalem were always better; experience was always on their side.

  *.*.*

  I stop and glance at the courtyard, there is nothing here, and there is no one in sight. The empty wooden fenced bordered sparring ring had not a living soul. At the Order in Midra, the sparring ring always had people in it because we know with hard work, perseverance and continuous training will you not just succeed your counter-parts but will survive the next battle. “I thought you would be here.” says a familiar voice. I spin around and see another Nephalem.

  “Dante?”

  I stand staring at the silver armored, black and blue scaled Knight. He smiles at me and opens his arms; I smile and run into it. “Miss me?” he asks and I almost didn’t hear the words.

  “You’re here, you’re alive.” I whisper into his chest. The silver cloak reflecting the light of the midday sun forced me to crush my eyes shut. He pulls me from him and I’m confused. His fingers firmly wrapped around my arms. He gives me a questionable gaze, his blue eyes reads humor as his pale lips pull themselves into a smile.

  “Are you saying you doubt my strength?” I was taken back, by that remark. Why would I doubt his strength? He’s one of the strongest warriors I know, it would be shallow of me not to take notice of his power. He bubbles in a deep barbaric laugh and I tilt my head to the side. I wonder at that moment what it was he was laughing at, was it my confusion or the trap he had set that I aimlessly stumbled into. “I’m only teasing, Kal.” Kal—that was his nickname for me. He believed saying my full name was a mouthful and ever since that day I had met him, he used that single syllable name. Once he started using it, everyone started using it, he was a well-respected Knight and everyone knew or looked up to him like me to be strong. So, that’s how it caught on fast.

  “Dante?” I question.

  “Yes?” he asks. I turn my attention to a figure in the background just beside his shoulder leaning against the far end wall. Dante’s arms were still around me but this time moved over my shoulder as we turned around and headed for the gate. My eyes still lingered on the brunette haired man and I wonder why he continued to stare. I was too far to take in his features as the shadow cloaked half of his features but I saw that he showed no expression, his brown hair stood out in spikes on the side of his head. We stop. “Kal?” asks Dante. He pulls me from my weird trance and I look up at him blinking a bit confused.

  “Huh?”

  “What are you looking at?” he questions in a high tone, almost amusing. I blink again and turn to where I was staring. The man I saw was gone.

  “Nothing,” I say, he shakes his head.

  17:The Grattican

  © 2014—All rights reserved by author

  “I’ll never understand what goes through that head of yours,” he says and I cross my arms.

  “Of course you won’t!” I say, confidently.

  “Ouch,” he teases, “hungry?” I nod. The one thing I love about Dante is; he always know when I need something. I ate raw meat a while ago so I won’t need it anytime soon but I think he has plans to just catch up.

  “So what are we going to do?” I ask, already knowing where this is headed.

  “Talk, catch up. You know the usual.” I knew it! He smiles down at me and I link my arm through his as he leads the way.

  *.*.*

  The market place is busy as I remember it to be. There’s nothing odd or unusual but still I try and keep my guard up. Golgotha will need me to hand over Varden. I place my cup down on its sourer and glance at the crowd of people where Dante and I sit beside the window, Dante’s back is to the crowd while I’m head on facing it. “What do you think is happening over there?” I ask Dante, not taking my eyes off the moving crowd of people who appear to be staring at something not with admiration but with fear as they quickly stumbled out of the way for soldiers, their uniforms appeared familiar and my heart jumped in my throat but tried not to show it. I didn’t need Dante worrying over me.

  Not now, not when Varden is safe. ”Or is he?” a voice whispers.

  “Don’t know,” he says before turning back around. I feel his piercing blue eyes on me in a scrutinizing way; he turns back over his shoulder and follows my consistent line of gaze. We were too far, they couldn’t see us and we had enough cover from the trees outside. They wouldn’t look over here. “We need to leave.” I nod and stand.

  We move quickly to the doors only to be stopped by an elderly woman, she smiles up at me and holds out her hand. A beggar she’s a beggar, I reach down to my coin pouch and pull out two gold coins not caring what she spends it on, if used wisely that can last her for a good month and a half. Her cut and bruised features makes my heart ache, how long has she been living without a home? Doesn’t she have a family, people who love her? The sound of a recognizable clicking occurs and I turn to the clatter.

  Dante has unfastened his crossbow and folds it outwards, its silver knifed sides fan out like deadly wings of a deadly dove. I still have nightmares of people I’m forced to kill, the battlefield and when I was held hostage as a prisoner of war. The nights I’ve spent sleepless can’t add up to the amount of fingers and toes I have that’s for sure. “We’re too late.” says Dante and a piercing sound makes its way towards the building, I see something orange, flying towards us, I grasp the old woman and push her to the side, gently enough she doesn’t hurt herself.

  The table where a couple sit with their male child scramble as their stall caught a flame. They’re going to try and burn us alive. The wooden arrow stands unaffected with wooden uniform arrow heads, this is something I’ve seen before, where the end of the arrow is dipped in oil, the lower part wrapped in gauze and the flame transfers from the arrow to the object. I hear Dante curse and screams from behind me as several men and women run out of the restaurant like a herd of stomping gazelles. They really do look like a bunch of startled animals.

  “Is there a back door?” I ask the owner and he nods his bald head up and down. He’s frozen as a statue staring at the flaming furniture which in no time catches fire. I pull off my cloak and extinguish the flame, one of the many handy things about our cloak. The reason why it’s silver; the best fire blanket we had they are a thinner material that is able to withstand higher temperatures while attempting to keep the host cool but only for fifteen to half an hour at most. I regard the owner who still hasn’t move. “What are you waiting for?” I growl as the cries, screams and whimpers of the customers become too unbearable for my sensitive ears.

  They hurry out of the back door and I turn to Dante, his helmet is wrapped around his upper part of his head as his faceplate conceals his fierce blue eyes and two single navy blue stripes on his face, representing his status as a nobleman, that’s what our marks represent, our power, our strength and above all our status. I move a table and flip it up on its edge and side giving me enough cover; I do the same with the other window on the other side of the door. Dante releases several arrows after the men and women that had scurried outside were shot down on sight by the crossbowmen. Their front line slowly moves towards us, this scene reminds me of the SWAT back on Earth how oddly discipline these men are.

  We’re in trouble!

  The action had begun several moments ago, and now they managed to infiltrate the restaurant, I crouch down behind the counter my crossbow firing energy arrows at our targets who fall down one by one. Dante instead stood fully
dressed in a silver suit of armor, he fought off the men on the inside part of the restaurant off to the side, he throws them around or plunges his blades within them and I focus on trying to not let them shoot Dante. I have no idea how long this crossfire has occurred for but I know that my energy is depleting and we need to find a way out of here and quick. ’Dante,’ I say and cease fire occurs for but I know that my energy is depleting and we need to find a way out of here and fast.

  ‘I’m a little busy, Kal.’ Several more bodies are flung over the counter and land where I am, I slowly peep over the counter to see dark lifeless eyes staring back at mine, and I slowly crouch back down. That’s another thing that will haunt me for the rest of my sleepless and nightmare filled nights. I fire from the side of the counter since the body Dante casually sewn is now covering line of fire.

  ‘I’m running low on ammo.’ I say, he knew what I meant; my energy is depleting and fast.

  ‘Here.’ I turn to him to see he flung his silver crossbow in the air and I leap from out of the counter and catch it, I roll and kneel, firing the arrows, repetitively. ’Keep, firing, I have enough energy to last us for days.’ I roll once more and return to where I was previously, kneeling behind the counter. I kneel behind the bench top and rest my arms on the bench, firing the larger version of my crossbow which requires both of my hands to shoot. The green energy arrows land into the chests of the enemy forcing them back motionless on the ground before the arrow disappears and returns to the crossbow—that’s true when they say, energy is transferred. The arrows lodge themselves into the counter and I’m not sure how much it can take before my only defense is gone. My suit may be strong and my skin may be able to regenerate but I’m sure they’ll find a way to kill us.

  Unlike Dante and Altair, I don’t have access to my full energy levels so I can’t call upon my battle-suit which heals faster and far more durable under cross fire. It made us stronger and sturdier. Explaining why Dante’s having the time of his life right now, he knows they can’t hurt him. Isn’t he lucky? The ground quivers under; extreme impact. The ceiling begins to cave in and I move out of the way, landing not too far from a table, I flip it on its side and arrows are immediately, lodged in it. I place the crossbow on the table edge and fire, I take down two…three…four and so on. They fall down one by one and slowly their numbers begin to dwindle. The ground shakes again and this time it is a much larger tremor. I glance at Altair, who stands now above motionless bodies. ’What’s that?’ I ask him.

  ‘Not too sure…’ His black faceplate contrasts against the silver armor of his battle-suit. I take down the last remaining soldiers and Dante’s form becomes a green cloud of smoke and appears beside me. “They’ve got cannons.” I gape, cannons?

  “Why would they need cannons?” I ask, dumbly, feeling rather stupid.

  “We’ll we aren’t exactly easy to take down.” I hear a click; something is being lodged into place. “Looks like they’re ready to fire,” Dante wraps his arms around me and I glare.

  “Hey?” We warp out of the building. The green smoke surrounds my form and a sky light beams down on us, as our teachers and mentors had said “the Angels light our path” the swirling green vortex around us is no more and I stand at the opposite end of the courtyard.

  I glance at Dante.

  “Let’s go.” I nod and follow him. Reaching the Sector was not easy, it is like trying to find a needle in the haystack, but we manage to find it by sunset. Passing the once again lifeless courtyard, I stop and glance at where I saw that man and see nothing but large thick stonewalls that fences the courtyard. I stride after Dante and he forces open the doors to reveal men and women of the Order, each in different uniforms—green, red, blue, silver, purple and white, each color representing the subdivision of the Order.

  “They are at our doors!” bellows a man.

  “It wouldn’t have happen if the government wasn’t threatened!” growls a woman.

  “We are being invaded!” cries another woman. I cannot find where the voices ring from but know they call from all around the room and are directed towards the man on the stairs. He stands on an even piece of floor that is at each set of stairs. The man on the stairs is no other than the Duke of Alland. What is he doing there?

  “We mustn’t worry.” he says, I glance at Altair who makes his way towards us through the crowd. He places a hand over his heart and Dante does the same—a Nephalem custom. Soon, he stops beside Dante.

  “What’s going on?” I hear Dante ask.

  “The Grattican.” he says. “They’re here in the city.”

  “Weren’t they always here?” I add and he nods slowly, I turn my gaze from Altair to the Duke who continues to talk to the crowd of the Order’s finest.

  “They were always here,” says Altair, “but they haven’t ever made their presence known and people over time forgot they even existed.”

  “So then why do they show up?” questions Dante.

  “Varden,” I say and the two look at me. “I need to check on Varden.” They nod and I force my way through the crowd of people. I make my way down a hall and up a flight of stairs; I hear unfamiliar footsteps and voices. I do not know what brought the urge on but I hid behind a suit of armor, placed in a built-in cave, it was not too big but it was not too small that a suit of armor was placed with a sword and shield—it had enough room for me to move through. Two male Security Barbs walk past and down the stairs I had ascended, I wait a moment more until their voices are gone. I slip out of my hiding spot and make my way towards Varden’s room. I force open his door.

  He’s gone…

  I race down the halls in search for him, passing the tapestries that drape down the walls, the maids and butlers that wonder the Sector. I glance around searching down corridors, empty rooms, and lifeless staircases. Every one of those I seem to ask claims to have never seen him or don’t know who he is. This is going to take forever. I think with frustration. I cross my arms and legs, leaning against the stone onyx walls when I hear footsteps approach me. “So, distant as ever,” I hear a familiar voice say.

  I glance up, “Hazlitt.” I say not in the mood to talk. Hazlitt being here is no surprise, he travels everywhere and all the time he I’m sure has no breaks which I’m sure he’ll need but when you’re on the road that’s plenty when it comes to a break. He moves and stops before me as he from what I can feel eyes me with confusion the air is silent and I can hear his breathing which is distracting me at the moment. I glance out the glass window and into the courtyard below.

  “What’s with you?” he asks. I regard him for a moment.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  Several peasants and merchants wonder through the courtyard and towards a Priest who appears to give his blessing to the travelers while monks move in disciplinary lines their hands clumped together. I sigh, I have no idea where he is or what has happened to him.

  “Father Mialo is asking for you.” he declares, of course he is. I promised to meet with him once I returned to the city. I nod and leave him standing in the hall without another glance and without another word.

  I step along the gravel stone just on the grounds around the courtyard; I walk beside Father Mialo in his black purple and red robe, a crucifix above his torso held by a beaded lace. “You know God’s forgiven you.” he says.

  The sound of snow crushing enters my sensitive ears in a way it’s comforting to know that those footsteps aren’t out for my blood. I know that in the world I live, trust and mercy is a luxury I can’t afford but if I could, I would give it willingly and if I had a choice to stay home and raise a family I would. It in my eyes would be a much better way to live—it would be a haven for me, to raise and protect something innocent, something pure from the eyes of war, greed and desperation. I know one day my child will have to carry on the duties of my family name but until then, I’ll ensure he or she will never have to lift a sword until I’m sure they’ll be mentally prepared for the worst. That’s all I can hope for.


  I nod.

  “There are things you can do and only you. After all, you are Nephalem. You are both a demon and an angel. Don’t ever forget that and also don’t always pry to your sins. Your confession is now with God.” I nod once more, knowing that it’s not with him but with the father beside me.

  “Is it always, blood and death?” I ask. He stops and so do I. It’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask for some time but I couldn’t bring myself to say it until now.

  “It’s what you do best.” I stare at him confused. Did he know who I was? As if he’s read my mind a smile stretches across his youthful face.

  “Do you know who I am?” I hope not.

  “Of course I do, you are Lezh.” I raise a brow and he laughs before we continue our stride towards the lake. Passing through the garden is a rare sight for me but I have one on Nephelia, I have gardeners that help me out same with the Chefs when I cook but there are some things (some hands on things) that a person like me needs to do; in order to quell my traumatized mind. “You’ve come to me many times when you were in this city.”

  “That is true,” I stop in under the large open garden house, a breeze blows in and fusses my hair about. My helmet I left in the Father’s keep since I was told that I couldn’t confess without an identity, his exact words were, “A person without an identity doesn’t have any sins.” I honestly was taken aback by that a bit and realized it made sense but I know our god of a father keeps us in his mind. He has to right? We practically aid the angels not that I like to but I can’t exactly deny them either but we can’t exactly defy the demons.