Dragon Frost (4 page)

“
Forget the truth and focus on the unacceptable, is that
which rules the world it’s the unforeseen truth that we suffer as
they do.”

I stop
and turn over my shoulder to see nothing. Brushing the voice
off—thinking I was only hearing things, I open my door and enter my
room. By the time seven arrived, I find myself sitting at a table
opposite Varden in a room full of people. Their presence and
impeccable chatter annoys me like a fly—something in which I cannot
easily swat away. The smell of different aromas radiates from the
various meals clustered on silver plates. Dana is quite the cook I
have to admit, as long as you didn’t destroy what her father spent
his whole life creating, she would cater to you to the best of her
ability—within acceptable requirements and anything less; she’ll
kick them out.

The small
dining hall is furnished by a high dome ceiling where a wooden
chandelier dangles—its candle lights complement the
yellowish-golden glow within the Inn radiating from the side
lanterns that sit in the wall, burning fiercely but gently. I turn
to my bowl of rice and stir-fry where the thick pasta slightly
sizzles on my tongue in a comforting way. Varden instead preferred
meat with potatoes, beans, carrots and corn. Still it smells nice
too. “The pros of good food.” he purrs.

“
Well
sorry I made you eat rabbits.” I reply. His face is soon tinted a
pink colour. “You okay?” I inquire. That question only adds to the
cerise colour which now covers whole his face. I give him a side
look and he moves to the cup of water beside his plate and devours
it in one go clearing his throat his face remains the same but I
see that he’s forcing to keep a straight
face. 
He’s an odd man.

“
Fine.”
he manages after some time which I don’t buy. Still I leave it at
that. The air feels still the oddness in which floods my senses,
sending my mind on high alert.

We’re 
not
 alone .
. .

I stand,
ignoring the steaming desire of my stir-fry. I watch the Inn’s
dining hall, different people sit around small tables as ever, with
their partners or friends their clothes are that of tunics and
khakis. I can’t shake the sensation, at the corner of my eye, I see
a torch set in the walls, flicker. It occurs again on the other
side of the room, the sound soon begins to drown out and the once
orange-yellow hue coloured room is now tinted blue. A light phases
down the centre and the Inn, is no more. There I see a man. His
teeth are white; glowing dangerously as sharp razors—ready to
inflict pain if necessary. “Who are you?”

“
I’m my
dear; is someone not exactly from here. Like you.”

“
What do
you want?”

“
Questions, questions,” he says as he steps towards me ever
so slowly ever so tauntingly. His black eyes never leave mine. “So
this is where you’ve been all this time and here I was searching
every corner, under every stone, behind every door on Earth to find
you.” His tone is even more sinister than I can imagine, “Yet here
you are, with that package.” He inclines his head to the side; a
taunting smile stretches across his face.
He 
is
 the face
of danger. I stand tall and fearless, as always.

“
So
you’re here on Golgotha’s request?” I ask.

“
How
right you are but I’m only a 
Messenger
. Hand over the package and I’ll spare your
life.”

“
What
makes you think I care?”

“
How you
don’t value life is sad.” he decries.

“
What’s
there to value when you’ve never had it?” I say and his lips pinch
themselves into a straight-thin line. The fold in his brows is
evident and then returns to normal. I can hear them, I can overhear
the laughter and conversation of the people surrounding me, as
quick as he came . . . he’s gone. I find myself sitting back down,
how I returned to this position is odd. I had no choice but to act
as though I did before the moment I heard those words.

“
Fine.”
Varden says and I regard his words, his face still a crimson colour
like before and I believe that he hasn’t noticed anything. Not the
man nor the change in the atmosphere—his presence still
lingers—faintly, though. It is still enough for me to frown. “Is
everything all right?” he asks. I hear those words repeat in my
mind. 
No
everything is not all right.
 I think but don’t say.

“
Just a
little spicy.” I lie. He eyes my plate, sceptically.

“
Isn’t
that what you wanted?” he asks as his brows furrow in
confusion.

“
It was.”
I say and stand. “I’ll be back.”

“
Where
are you going?” he asks; a piece of forked meat is mere millimetres
from his mouth as his eyes wonder to my impassive
expression.

“
Bathroom.”

I move
from my seat passing people who are far louder than I thought
previously, I can hear the sound of my boots on the wooden floor
boards it was something that I know is always there but never this
loud. My head feels light and I was sure that the room spun around
me. I force open a wooden door and rush over to the sink where I
haul what fluids I had. 
What’s causing this?

The
burning sensation on the front of my throat only adds to the
discomfort, I feel. Turning the tap, I allow the water to run . . .
I glance at the mirror before me beside the lantern that reflects
my dark face plate. I didn’t even realise I had it on. Then again,
I’ve always had it on. It’s better than people knowing my face. I
hear a gentle rap on the door.

“
You . .
. all right in there?” I hear Varden say. I don’t answer.
“Commander?” he questions, the only thing he can call me by since I
didn’t give him my name. He can call me whatever he pleases it
won’t matter to me.

“
Fine.
I’ll be out soon.”

“
Okay.” I
hear his footsteps slowly disappear and I place my hands under the
running liquid, splashing my chin to rid the gastric fluid, I may
or may not have forced out of my system. I glance back at the
mirror and remove my helmet.

By the
time I return, Varden is sitting at a table with another woman in
my seat her blond hair sprawls down over her shoulders as her blue
eyes like his dance with seduction and amusement. The sight of her
made me want to vomit once more but I fight it back. My head is
still spinning, if she is going to take my spot than fine I’ll
return to my room. “There you are.” he says his blue eyes change
from witty to staid. “You all right?”

“
I’m
going to bed. See you in the morning.” I turn from them and head
back towards the door. I can still hear them though.

“
Who’s
she? Your wife?”

“
No.
She’s just someone I’ve met recently.”

“
Can I?”
she asks not sure what it is.

“
By all
means, good food shouldn’t go to waste.” I close the door behind
me, the laughter is less and their conversation no more. I climb
the stairs and towards my room. The lanterns in the wall flicker
once more, causing shadows to dance around the halls. The cold air
I can feel more around me. Like the moment it came it was gone, I
stride towards my door and force it open, I enter. I see a
silhouette sitting in the far end of my room.

“
About
time, I was starting to think I had the wrong room.” said the
voice. I recognize it.

“
Hazlitt.” I say closing the door behind me. A lantern is
lit beside him on a small side table. His brown hair appears darker
than normal with a hint of yellow and orange transgressing through
his streaks—highlighting his features—presenting the evident frown
on his face. I ignore him and remove my cloak before placing it on
the chair at the opposite end of the small room. “Why are you
here?”

“
I’m here
to deliver 
this
.” he says
as he reveals a red envelop with a golden seal. I advance towards
him and remove it from his grasp; his now free hand intertwines
with his other fingers as he watches me, as I inspect the seal,
critically. It was from the Order. I break the seal and slip out
the parchment; written in a familiar hand.

The only hand I
fully recognize.

Dear Commander
Rodregas,

I have been made aware you
’re in contact with the package; however,
something has come up. I’m in a predicament that will require for
you to take a detour, a pastor has been identified calibrating with
demons where his organization The Blood Brethren is responsible for
brainwashing and impendent Zylarian sacrifices.

I would have had another for this job but
I
’m short
listed since our King and the royal family have been lost to us. No
one knows if they are dead or alive. So our Order is only dwindling
in size. After the neutralization of this threat you are to return
to the Castle I’ll have your next assignment waiting.

Chief
Commander Gustof Donnavin

“
He 
can’t
 be
serious,” I state calmly to Hazlitt. Hazlitt de Lialaz is a Shadow
Messenger the best I know of with his black clothes and his style
of sartorial allows him to move easily within the shadows. His hood
now positioned around his shoulders which makes his shoulders
appear much broader.

“
The
Chief 
always
 is.”
I know what he means, all too well.

“
But then
that means I have to involve 
that
 civilian.” I say deep in thought, Hazlitt moves to
his feet and places a hand on my shoulder.

“
You’ll
think of something . . . you always do.” He strides towards the
closed glass window and pushes it open. “In the meantime you’re
going to have to, the others are spread throughout the world. If
you require assistance, you won’t have it.” He leaves. I stare at
the open window before I reluctantly move to close it.  
 

The light
of the next day, touches the room, in a calming but alerting
manner. I push the pale sheets from over my form and stand,
the
under suit I wear
covers my breasts and hips in V-leg shapes. It’s something, I can
take off when I want but it only moves elsewhere on my body. It’s
practically a part of my skin. Something that can be controlled at
will—no surprise really—it’s
protection—it’s 
our 
protection.

My species are
warriors.

We are
given no vulnerability and no way to die . . . we’ll almost. There
are still things in this world that can harm us but we ensure our
enemy never has a chance to acquire it. We were one of those
species given the term: 
gods
 even though we were no such thing. We were created by
the King of the angels and the blood of the Queen of the
demons.

So, 
We
, were the
result. Striding to the bathroom, I step into the white tub and
turn on the shower. I allow my mind to relax under the warm beads.
By the time I’m done, my ‘Gazric’—the suit I couldn’t remove from
my body, shifts around my right wrist. The black thick scales wrap
itself around my slender coffee coloured forearm. Our skin—the
Gazric—is fierce yet an elegant appearance of a dragon.

Dragons.
 The biological representation of what we are—we are
feared which makes me distance myself, emotionally, from those
around. Especially when; monsters, demons and even angels are after
our blood especially those of the 
pure-breed
. I find myself later that day, at the front
counter signing out of our rooms, with new supplies. Varden waits
patiently on a recliner and I move past him after I had said my
good-byes to Dana. “So we’re 
not
 going to the Headquarters?”

“
No.”

“
Why?”

“
I have
an errand to do, something that only I can do.” I confess striding
across the foyer; I push open the door and enter the midday filled
streets with carriages, wagons, horses, men and women dressed in
suits and gowns. The noise present, ever annoying.

“
Which
is?” he asks.

“
You’ll
see.” I say and lead the way. We ride on horseback this time since
it will be quicker. Varden questions the sudden change in
transportation. I scowl. I hadn’t said much since we left nor have
I answered his simultaneous questions since I know what possible
conclusion he’s jumped to. He remains quiet on our journey to
Wither Falls Gorge. Several hours pass and we set up camp, the
night is cool. Before we left I had bought Varden warmer clothes
since, we’ll be arriving at the Order well after the first snow
fall.

We sit in
silence, eating the chicken soup I had prepared, there were times
like this I am grateful I could both hunt and cook. There’s no
surprise really, sometimes Knights are stranded on the front line
of a war side by side with whatever planets’ Military. When you
have very little food and water; hunting and gathering is your only
way to survive at unfortunate times. Though, once you’re done,
hunting and gathering in one spot, you continue and move on. The
crackling of the flames is evident gently in my ears. “So how much
further?” he asks through his spoonful of soup.