Dragon Frost (34 page)

The
evening arrives and I find myself sliding through the shadows,
passing stationed guards. The Vault will be secured tightly—I’ll
have to find a way to break in otherwise, I won’t find out the
truth. There are several motivational reasons as to why people will
want Varden dead. The room is quiet and uncharted; the guards were
easy to slip past after I let of a nosy grenade. It was easy they
investigated the noise as predicted and I cracked the combination
of inverted patterns and musical notes and entered—the door had
locked me inside as a security regulation. Good thing this room had
a stained glass window high above the numerous shelves covered in
scrolls, ancient texts and rare books.

Scrolls
upon scrolls lay scattered about and I click my fingers, a green
flame appears and lights my path. “Where do I begin to look?” I
mutter to myself and stop. Seeing, the book shelves wrapped around
a circular void of darkness I peer down, my flame doesn’t penetrate
it—leaving the darkness as obscure as the
exit. 
Great! 
I
think and force my mind to focus on the task at hand. I will not
give the Duke or anyone in Midra not to deny the evidence is
insufficient because of the estrogen coursing through my system. My
brain may be wired differently to the men of my race but that
doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t have one—otherwise, I’d be a
corpse. An Un-walking; an un-living corpse!

I open
and close countless books and scrolls, scanning their contents for
anything in relation to the previous Royal Family. Nothing! There
is nothing so far, I can’t tell how long I’ve been in here but by
the time I’m pulled from my thoughts, voices ignite from the other
side of the door. I stand around the pile of books and scrolls I
have scattered around me from the layout of this place, it wouldn’t
appear as someone was in here, and the place wasn’t well kept when
I entered. “What do you mean something went off last night?” came
the voice and I slipped over the balcony and climbed down under the
balcony. Footsteps approach and the door begins to creak and grind
as cogs move, the door flings open and the voice is louder. “I
doubt someone would enter this Vault, unless they have a death
wish.”

“
But
boss, you have to believe me!” says a man, his voice is higher not
as forceful as the one before him.

There’s
silence and I hold my breath.

I don’t
know how long I’ve held my breath for but the footsteps that
approach, hover above the balcony, hanging over my head. “Search
the room and the library below. If someone is here, I want them
found and I want them found now. This room has valuables many will
die to get their hands on.” The footsteps retreat and I hear the
call of orders from leaders to the squads and more clutter of
footsteps. My hands are firm against the stone that I had to climb
down to after the main man left. My heels make it difficult for me
to keep myself up right but I remind myself that it’s another test.
I allow the pressure my limbs hand-holding me in place—I slide down
away from the vault and down into the darkness.

The area
below the library and below the vault is covered in dust and dirt,
the papers are brown, and the smell of mouldy parchments which
stuffily fills my nose. I sniff here and there to attempt to quell
the tingle in my olfactory sense, a sneeze will pull them to my
presence and I knew that was something I couldn’t allow. I knew
without a doubt this just may be a long night. I peer around a
corner, there’s nothing but darkness and my eyes adjust, the rough
stone walls line the large blocked stone flooring. I hear footsteps
in the distance, and I calculate I’ll have enough time to find
another hiding spot even though this place is like a maze even
though I may have to continue moving around as though I blind. If I
were in my Nefaliem form I would be easily able to see in the
dark.

I wonder
down the dark winding corridors only to stop at a dead-end; this is
the third dead-end I’ve run into. At this moment, I wish that my
PCP (Portable Computer PAC) was with me but I had left all of my
automated and electronic gadgets in my room back at the Order. They
didn’t die but the battery span was at 50%, I figured to shut down
all my gadgets down since; one: in Zylaria there’s no electricity
and I couldn’t be bothered gathering a bunch of potatoes, wires and
other electrical generating necessities, two: I had a feeling I
would be here for a while—and I know I would need them
later. 
I
hate it when I’m right!

“
There
seems to be no end to these halls,” I mutter to myself.

“
What
about down here?” I hear a male voice chime. I spin around eyeing
the dark corridor behind me, with wariness.

“
There’s
probably going to be nothing,” says another man whose voice is new
to me. My ears count their steps, they aren’t marching with speed
but they aren’t slow to dawdle. Looks like I’m going to have to
fight my way out. By the time I plan out my attack, they stand
before me. I notice within moments I’m revealed by the flame of the
torch they carry.

I root my
feet firmly apart and my arms are stable but relaxed before me.
“There’s the intruder!” cries the one before. They race towards me,
spears and swords thrust towards me. I knock the spear away from me
with my forearm guard, after I side-step, with one hand, clenching
my other it comes in contact with something strong and prickly. I
hear a groan. A sword clashes with my forearm guard and I slip out
of the impact and elbow him hard, in the face with the same
arm.

I sprint
down the way I came knowing that those men won’t stay down for long
but I didn’t see the need to kill them. So I sharply turn a corner
and stop. There are guards approaching me and I glance left and
right, nothing. Here we go again. Out of the blue, I hear the
voice, “
Up.”
 it
whispers and I look up. I see an opening in the
ceiling. 
A way out!

The
ground is thick, dry and dark. I tear down the halls unsure of
which way to turn and which way is out. I feel like a mouse,
trapped in a maze the problem was that this maze didn’t have just
dead-ends it had trained guards after me. I flatten my back up
against the stone walls, and wait; the presence that I feel is fast
on approach. I inhale waiting . . . there the footsteps approach
and I tense. I feel beads of sweat slide down my face and I fight
the urge to wipe them away.

I don’t
need them to know where I am. I wait a few more seconds even though
it feels like a full hour of waiting and at last a man—alone he is
and I see him glide past me as if nothing is there, to avoid any
more confrontation, I wait until he’s out of sight and continue
further down another corridor before I stop. The ground seems so
uneven under my feet and I can’t help but look down—there I notice
it, there, I see the ground is slowly shifting from firm stone
flooring to spacious stones filled with soil and green
grass. 
Why is there green grass it’s winter!

“
This way
. . . ” calls the same voice in the darkness and I freeze. Where
did it come from and more importantly who does it belong to?
“Please don’t hesitate . . . I wish you no harm,” it says and I
contemplate whether or not to follow a voice that makes me feel
almost like I’ve lost my head. Maybe I have but then how is it that
I’m still able to differ between reality and what’s not. In my
lifetime I’ve seen things normal beings such as Humans have yet to
believe in let alone see, from majic to demons, from ghosts to the
vampires. If that’s not a crazy experience than what about hearing
voices—I’ve been told that craziness, when someone in your head
tells you to do something. I step along the corridor—wary—expecting
danger or carnivorous plants. “This is crazy. I’m crazy.” I mutter
to myself because I know it couldn’t get any weirder than that
right about now.

The
corridor slowly begins to widen and I kneel down and trace my
fingers along the ground, I feel the soil and I feel the dry smooth
stone, I smell the moisture in the air and the fresh mint of newly
bloomed leaves, the same scent used to lure out animals from their
dens of hibernation. I regard the stone-tiled steps as it gently
creates a path against a lush green grass—that’s well-kept and
well-tended to—I reach the edge of the path and stop. I turn back
over my shoulder and the corridor that I was in is no more.
Instead, I see lush green hills, thick green healthy canopies and a
pale blue sky with fluffy clouds above the distant gray mountains,
there are birds flying overhead. Animals surround a nearby
waterhole, deer’s, rabbits, horses and many other animals. I’m
captivated by the purity of the air—the fresh scent—the energising
atmosphere and the crystal clear waters that glisten under a
healthy bright yellow sun.

“
That was
a close one.” a voice came, I glance at it and I’m taken back. A
woman in a white gown stands before me she looks exactly like me;
with light coffee coloured skin, silver hair, bright blue eyes
lined in wide-almond shaped eyes and long black lashes, small red
plump lips, an oval face with complementing high cheek bones. Two
blue marks on either side of her face and I stare. “What? Aren’t
you surprised?”

I step
towards her, slowly. In shock. “How?” I ask, my voice trembles as I
hold out my hand, it shakes and is hesitant as I fear that I will
pass right through her. “You’re dead.” I say.

“
Just
because someone is gone doesn’t always mean they’re dead, big
sister.” she smartly replies. 

“
Galataia? Is that really you?” I ask unsure. Her name I
remember she’s named after our grandmother who is still alive to
this day on Nephelia.

“
It is I.
What’s the matter not happy to see me?” I glare.

“
Of
course I’m happy to see you, don’t every think otherwise!” I snap
and embrace her. I hold her close and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping,
praying that I’m not dreaming, I don’t know what I would do if that
was the case. I know for a fact if something is playing a trick on
me—I’ll skin the monster alive, slowly, making him an example to
the next one who dares to toy with my emotions. There’s only a few
in this world that truly cherish me for me and they are the ones I
aim to never let down, to never leave unprotected and to never
leave them alone.

“
I missed
you,” she whispers and my face feels damp. “And I forgive you.”
That was it and I silently cry into her slender shoulder. She’s
alive and she forgives me! How can she forgive me, I wasn’t there
to protect her? I was too late and because of that they took her
from me, took the only thing in this world that wasn’t evil or
violent and loved me for me that’s all I’ve ever wanted. She was as
pure as the lotus plant she loved so much.

“
You
can’t forgive me.” I say and that’s the only thing I say until I’ve
calm down. Around her and Dante, I let down my guard. I feel
emotionally safe with them but I’m supposed to be strong for her.
And what am I doing? Crying! “I’m rather pathetic now, aren’t I?” I
mock sarcastically and she stretches her coffee coloured arm out to
me and places her hand upon my cheek, wiping away the last tear
that streaks down my cheek.

We sit by
the crystal clear waters and I’ve removed my helmet. “There’s
nothing wrong with showing emotion, there’s a problem if you
didn’t. That’s the same thing I would tell father, you know.” I
nod, I remember that, she would often cook his favorite meals just
to see him smile after a long day of work.

“
Where
have you been? Was it you talking to me this whole time? I honestly
thought I was crazy.” I say with a little laugh, she giggles with
me.

“
It was
me that was talking to you and I can only talk to you because were
identical twins.” I smile, she’s my other half.

“
Where
have you been?” I ask once more and her smile drops, she turns from
me and glances at the lake with a rather sad expression.
“Galataia?” I ask.

“
I’ve
been here . . . ” she says after some time. What?

“
Here!” I
say and stand. “In Midra!” I growl.

“
I’m not
in Midas, Kalverya.” she says quietly, “I’m in the Dome.” I give
her a side-look. The Dome? As in a Prison? If so than who put her
here?

“
A
Dome?”

She nods; her
eyes are locked onto the crystal glowing waters.

“
And you
can’t leave.”

She
shakes her head. “I can never leave, neither can the others.” I’m
shocked. Others? There are more here with friends, families or
people who are probably missing them. “We can’t leave because were
bound.” She pulls back her long-loose white sleeves and reveals a
silver band; ancient characters are inscribed on it. I know what to
say, but, I don’t know if it will be enough to quell the pain she’s
in. She is the only one of us that shows emotion in our family
she’s the only one I want to keep smiling and someone has wiped it
from her.

When I
find her captor I’ll make sure to wipe more than just a smile from
his/her face!

“
How . .
. ” I can’t begin to put the sentence together, I take a deep
breath, “long have you been here?”

She glares at
me with pain.

“
How long
do you think?” she snaps and I gulp at her intensity.

“
For a
hundred years.”