Dragon Frost (40 page)

‘
Good point. If you can, at least try and get as far away
from Midra as possible.’
 I hear the sound of distant marching.

‘
Oh no.’

‘
What?’
 he
asks and I didn’t realise I thought that but at the same time I
can’t exactly not, I tell Altair what’s bothering me before
severing the connection. I pick up some snow and smear it over the
fire, lifting my gown, I stomp down on the remaining flame until
it’s extinguished. Varden begins to complain and I place my fingers
to my lips and look over the small Cliff-side, it’s not too far off
the main path but far enough to be hidden from sight—only if we
remain silent. I feel Varden crawl towards where I kneel peeking
through the over-grown pile of snow.

“
How did
they get here so fast?” he whispers.

“
I’m not
sure and we can’t really go anywhere.” I glance down and see the
Captain from earlier.

“
At least
now we know how they managed to catch on.” I barely
whisper.

“
How?” he
asks.

“
The
Captain from earlier.” I can see his golden-brown against the
flurry white ground. He appears to be talking to a man, dressed in
layers of armour.

“
Maybe we
shouldn’t have been running around like maniacs . . . ”

“
Maybe.”
I agree. “As long as we’re quiet we can wait until they
pass.”

“
Sounds
good.” The troops successfully bypass us but they don’t go too far
before they set up camp. Varden and I tip-toe through the woods,
gently guiding the mere along, we don’t need her to be startled and
causing a fuss, otherwise, we’ll be caught for sure. If we need to
we’ll be able to mount the horse and take off but where, our route,
is filled with ragged uneven frozen rocky landscapes, were too high
up to actually race around.

It seems
like forever before we managed to set up camp, on the other side of
the cliffs, the only thing that separates us from the Serpents in
human form is the steep drop down to a frozen forest just off the
main trail. “What else did Altair say?” asks Varden, I
shrug.

“
Not
much,” I say and pick up a frozen stick beside me from where I sit
on a low snow covered boulder. Before us, is a frozen lake, the
yellow sun is just breaking towards the west and I told Varden not
to start a fire or he’ll risk revealing our position. I stand and
glance around.

“
What’s
wrong?”

“
We need
to hide somewhere.” I confess.

“
Why?” He
stands.

“
Because
we’re out in the open.” I notice a small cave behind us, and glance
at the cliff that hangs over. If we were caught, all they’ll need
to do is pellet the snow and we’ll be caved in but if they don’t
find us, we’ll have a safe place to stay until they move on.
“There’s a cave.” I say and head towards it. Once I enter the cave,
it’s dry and warm. I glimpse behind me and notice Varden is pulling
the horse along.

We fall
asleep, instantly. Though, I didn’t get enough sleep my mind
running through what to do and where to go. We could go to the
Order like Altair suggested but sadly I fear there will be more
surprises along the way. The next day came quick and we hiked up
frozen rocky terrain, across deep flurries of snow and under ice
toppings upon dead withered trees. The Nephalem are fierce
warriors, known, to take out hundreds alone. The unknown is what
causes fear to kindle in the hearts of the fear—feared by the
Nephalem—their unpredictable nature. It’s only in this time, only
in this world where everything is all over the place everything is
not what it seems.

Is it always going to be like this?
 I think as I watch the stillness of
the frozen mountains with, Covenant troops at every acreage I’m not
exactly confident we’ll make it out of here alive—maybe not in one
piece. I hear Varden approach his boots crush the snow graciously.
I feel him stop beside me. I keep my eyes ahead. “We’re not safe .
. . are we?” he asks and I regard the hazy gray skies that seem to
easily transcend on this lifeless world.

“
No were
not.” We travel to the small town of ‘
Mykyra
’, the place where we initially saw the Grattican. I can’t
help but feel anxious as we make our way through the town. The
Grattican are gone and Varden is no closer to attaining the throne.
Even if he does attain it, will people want to have some form of
justice against the wrong that has caused ultimate pain and
loss?

I grasp the
reins, slightly hesitant.

This is
the only town with this large frozen stretch of valley and the
sight of the gray overcast tells me were in for another blizzard.
There’s a need to supply ourselves and constructively create an
effective plan. Everyone and everything seems to move so slowly
around me—I’m almost annoyed at the sight. Men brush too closely to
our horse and I lean back against Varden, on impulse he pulls his
arms around me and unwinds my hands from the reins.

He begins
to guide the horse to that end of the town. To a small Inn I told
him previously would give us more cover and more protection, it
lays in the west, where it will alow us to be notified if the
Grattican are in the town. Giving us time to abandon it, if
necessary. We demount the horse and climb inside. The wooden
floorboards creak under my wedge-less feet. My heels, weapons,
gadgets and armour have disappeared as my body may or may not be
recovering.

We aren’t
like other ordinary dragon races instead we are the Dragon Race,
the one above them all. Even before the advancement of our
technology we had a very strong immune system that is practically
impenetrable granted to us by the angels and demons—the power that
flows through their veins—now is with us. We arrive at our room and
I push open the door.

A single
room.

I feel
rather silly, I glance at Varden. He shrugs, “Sorry, they only had
this room available.” I enter the room and see it’s small. One
small window at the end of the room, directly opposite me, stand
freely as the white curtains dance in the wind. Varden moves to
close it. “Honestly it’s cold enough as it is without having the
window open.”

I sit on
the only bed and brush my fingers along the thickly woven quilt. My
eyes are trained on Varden before he turns and glances around the
room, his eyes fall to the bed, than to me—finally the open door
where he closes it firmly with a frustrated sigh, “What’s wrong?” I
ask.

His head snaps
up.

“
Nothing.” He turns to face me. “Just a little tired.” So am
I. I silently agree with him and wonder if I’ll ever have a link
with him as I did with John, or didn’t, I don’t know. I pull my
eyes from him. He’s the Prince of this world and I’m a Princess of
another . . . we run in different circles, on different worlds,
just like John and I. Why is it I seem to never have what I want?
Though, envy is that of those with no luck.

“
Varden.”
I say. His eyes lock onto me with an unreadable expression, “I’m
sorry.”

“
About
what?”

“
About
almost kissing you . . . it’s not right.” I turn to glance out the
window hoping the frozen mountains in the distance will make out my
next words, “you should know that . . . ” I begin.

“
You’re
with Altair.” I turn to him. There is the same unreadable
expression and a hint of something else. I nod. “It’s okay, I’m
sorry too, I guess I was caught in the moment.” Silence stretches
between us and I can’t seem to understand why, every time we seem
to have something stable, it ends in silence.

“
Anyway,
I’m not with Altair.” I say.

“
You’re
not?” he questions with confusion in his voice.

“
Yes, I’m
not.” He nods in understanding and his jaw tenses.

“
We’ll
either way,” he says. “We should get some rest.” I glance down at
the bed.

“
But—“ I
begin to question where he’s going to sleep. He holds up his hand,
I clam my mouth shut.

“
I’ll
sleep on the floor.” His eyes told me not to argue and I didn’t,
once he’s convinced I’ve accepted his idea, I pull the top quilt
off and walk over to where he slid down the wall, far from me and
rested his head on his arm. Only until I’m in front of him does he
look up.

I hold out the
blanket.

“
You may
be cold.”

“
I’ll be
fine.” he says and I scowl, what’s with men and their pride? I
still hold it out and he sighs and takes it. “You’re stubborn you
know.”

“
So I’ve
been told.” I move back to my bed, “Good night,” I call over my
shoulder and see him smirk at my response before
muttering.

“
Good
night.”

During
the night I find my way down the frozen grounds of the narrow
alley, it makes my feet a little unsteady. I’m unsure if I should
be walking here but I can’t help it, I feel drawn, compelled. I
glance down at the ice covered black ground. There at the end of
the alleyway, a man sits against the far brick wall.

The man
before me lays motionless, so still I believe. I don’t see his
chest moving as every being intakes oxygen and expels carbon
dioxide—well almost, I mean those without aerobic respiration would
require no oxygen—those are often plants like fungi. Still the
sight of him annoys me rather, I’m annoyed at how he hasn’t even
noticed my presence. I had heard he was in town and I wanted to
find out for myself, now I have and I’m disgusted at the sight of
him—pathetic! I have and look what has happened. The sight of it is
appalling. I can’t help but want to grind my fists into his teeth.
That would bring me true pleasure.

“
Hey!” I
yell, growing impatient. Though his negligence isn’t what annoys
me, I have no clue what it is—anger—nothing—fear is all I feel at
this moment. I can’t blame myself it’s not my fault. Or so I
believe. I march over to him. “Hey!” I snap not in the mood. “Wake
up! You drunkard!” I bark as I kick my foot against his, nudging it
slightly to the side—still—no response. 
This is
bullshit!
 I kneel
down before him and that’s when I noticed it.

He’s
cold—gray—lifeless and he’s dead.

“
I don’t
believe my eyes . . . ” I mutter annoyed at the sight of him. Did
he pass out on the liquor? Or did he die by the hand of another.
There stamped under his wrist one letter: 
G.

I turn
over his hand and notice his hands clenched and fitted as if given
or taken something. I pluck it open and don’t cry out in pain or
scream as his body suddenly jolts and crushes my hand, a crack
occurs and he broke my wrist with his iron fist. I place his hand
down slow as pain burns through my forearm. “You had to be weird,”
I mutter to myself and at the deceased corpse before me. The sight
of him doesn’t bother me—I’ve seen plenty dead bodies to last me a
good millennium. I stand and unravel the paper ever so
slowly—fighting the urge to scream—fighting the pain searing
through me like meat above a fire.

That’s
what it’s like—
fire
.

Evident
and long-lasting pain that I for one have no choice but to suck up.
Well depending on what’s on this piece of paper; a treasure map,
secret codes, claustrophobic secrets—a note. There goes my hope but
what frightens me more is the handwriting, I’ve seen it before but
where and why—I’m cut short when my head snaps up at a reeling
sound. I glance behind me. There are three men eyeing me with
greed. 
I’m officially am beginning to hate these types of
men!

“
Look
what we have here.” calls one like a drunken hobo. His hair’s in
tussles in every unattractive direction, unshaven, holy shoes and
ragged clothing’s.

The
others are the same. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be in
alleyways alone!”

“
Who said
she’s alone?” comes the voice and I recognise it. The men spin
around and turn their gaze behind them. There stands Lifet and a
very tense Altair. Altair strides forward, dominance radiates off
of him in dazzling waves that makes me feel—happy.

I’m not
even sure what it is but the sight of these digesting low life’s,
in fear, makes a pride of warmth flutter through my chest. They
begin to tremble and I fight back giggles that threaten to erupt.
“Who are you?” demands a man as he mistakenly points, his
slender—bony finger at Altair. The anger in Altair’s deep blue eyes
are like that of steel. Cold and hard.

“
I’m the
one who should be asking the questions around here.” he remarks.
Altair strides forward, dominance, power and control radiates from
him like a ball of flaming heat, like a star. I
smile. 
They’re going to get it now.

“
You ask
nothing shit—“ The man’s cut off by Altair’s hands wrapping around
his thin throat—his form lifts from the ground—his feet shake as
his nails claw at Altair’s thick scales—as usual Altair is
unharmed. I glance at Lifet and he too has a smile on his face, I
don’t blame him, these three street thugs have nothing worth owning
so trying to overpower someone or steal which something is their
way of dealing with whatever problem they have at the
moment.