Dragon Frost (8 page)

My soup
is now nothing more than an empty bowl, I push it aside and a
waitress comes and picks it up. “Finished?” she asks. I nod. She
collects the other now empty bowls, of Mina and Varden on her
wooden tray before scurrying away to attend others who have
finished their meals. The smell of the various aromas fills the air
and I find it so odd that no matter what world you are on, there
will always be those who are suffering or tortured by the society
they are trapped in. I can hear the conversations now of men and
women throughout the room of their government, banks, land-lords
and many other power holding bandits.

“
Did you
hear, now ‘Haven’ is taking the northern lands?” complains a man in
his mid-thirties. Haven the only independent government estate
agency. It’s not something to be proud of. They take land that they
think will benefit them and their plans the government has. Just
like the military they are secretive. To a degree, Knights are
secretive, but not enough that the people don’t distrust us. The
Rangers are more so.

Still,
the people trust them more than their own government. The power
place, Midra, the richest city in the country island of Destastrox.
“I heard that Midra has taken all of the businesses on that flank
of land; big or small, it didn’t matter.” comments a
woman.

“
That’s
not the only land they’ve taken.” says another female voice. “The
Southern and Northern Peninsula of Denisova is now in the
governments hands. Strangest part it’s not even in their
jurisdiction.” 
Why would they take lands that not even their right to
take?
 I
wonder.

I
’ve
heard enough.
 I
rise from my seat, “I’ll be back later tonight.”

“
Where
are you going?” asks Mina and I’m surprised. It’s the first thing
she has said to me lately other than the words we exchanged when we
first met.

“
To see a
man about a Priest,” I say, they glance at each other with
confusion and I wind my way through the crowd of people and exit
the tavern, not too far from the Inn we are currently staying at.
After I have sorted out 
this
 problem, Varden and I will be on our way to the
Order, after we find some place for Mina to live since it is
practically against the rule for me to bring people to the Order
without previous permission. I enter the cool night air, the sound
of the tavern is still loud in my ears but I block them out like I
do everything else. Moving along the stone pavement I round several
corners, passing down several narrow
alleyways. 
Why he lives in such a maze is beyond me?
 I stop in front of a red painted
wooden door, the light of a lantern above it shines down outlining,
the bronze plate at eye height upon the
door: 
’Planet Enigma’
.

I knock
on the door three times and wait; there’s a gentle sound of
movement from the other side of the door. A bronze slot opens and I
see two brown eyes staring back at me. “Kalverya?”

“
The one
and only,” I comment and I hear him beam on the other side
muttering something about who long it’s been since I’ve seen him
and what I’ve been doing and above all how long it will be until, I
settle down. His enthusiasm is the same as ever.

“
You know
many women your age are married with a family.” he remarks and I
give him a blank expression. The same expression he knows all too
well. “Right, sorry you’re 
not
 the marrying type.” he mutters and I roll my eyes
under my helmet. He stresses out the word: 
not
. Some part of him still believes I am. Oddly
enough, I have yet to tell him about Altair and Tylif’s plans for
us, I just never found the right time.

“
As if I
need more mouths to feed,” I retort and he opens the door after
going through the many security locks that I can here click and
lock out of place before I enter a tight room. He is an old man
with a large brain. His inventions scatter themselves around the
room. I notice there are many books piled up around the room from
his hands his work on philosophy, mechanics, physics, biology,
mathematics and chemistry. I gave him the titles of the books since
other worlds I’ve been on have different names and it’s a little
difficult to remember since I have enough languages running through
my head as it is.

“
You
know, apparently that’s the beauty of marriage.” he says and I
scoff. He hears my little remark and decides to lecture me. “It
won’t be that bad to have someone to come home to after all your
crazy adventures,” he says as he glances at me from over his
shoulder and I push aside a model plan hanging from the
ceiling.

“
Does
that include the control and abuse?” I say.

“
Maybe,
maybe not,”

“
I don’t
like the idea of vulnerability.” I say and he stops, turning to
face me, fully.

“
No
person does but I’m not the one to say what you do and don’t do
with your life.” he says finally and I smirk at him, he returns the
gesture. He and a few others can bring out a smirk that I don’t
seem to carry like ordinary people. It’s strange how my name is in
both my personality and my experiences. He above all knows that
well. He returns to lead me back to his small dining room, changing
the topic. “Last time I saw you, I was a young man. How time flies
yet you don’t appear as though you’ve aged.” he comments where I
pull out a wooden chair and sit down. “Or have you, I can’t tell
with that thing on take it off!” he orders, “You’re perfectly safe
here.”

I do as
he demands and slip off my helmet; my black loosely curled hair
falls down my back and around my upper form and down to my waist.
“Happy now?” I quiz and he pours a cup of water for me. He looks up
and stops what he does for several moments, his eyes wide before a
smile pulls up at his face.

“
Much
better, though you 
haven’t
 aged. I wish I had that,” he says.

“
No you
don’t,” I comment. “It’s not something I like about my heritage.
Seeing everyone you once knew or grew up with die around you is the
worst way to live.” He returns to pouring the water in the wooden
handless mug.

“
At least
nobody remembers 
what
 you did.” Nobody needs to. “So how old are you now?”
he asks with a risen brow and I give him a side glance. “What? Just
curious.”

“
Hasn’t
anyone told you it’s 
rude
 to ask a lady her age?” He holds up his hands in a
silent surrender. I smirk.

“
Sorry.”
he says and I laugh. He smiles. Placing the jug of water on the
counter beside the sink where he normally cleans his food and
prepares them for further meals he’ll make. He sits down at the
opposite end of the table and our eyes meet for some time. I
reflect on the times we had when we were travelling together at
that time he was causing trouble with his inventions. I had to
practically pull him out of most of the situations. Luckily, I did
or he wouldn’t be here with me today. “So what brings you
here?”

“
That
would be a Priest.” I say.

“
There
are many Priests in this town. You have to be more
specific.”

“
I wish I
could but I wasn’t given much information but have you heard of the
Blood Brethren?” His face becomes grim and I sit up straight. “You
know of them, don’t you?” He sighs; turning to the window that is
open pulling in the fresh cool air of winter; several snowflakes
slowly gleam against the crescent moon. It is a beautiful sight. He
rises from his seat and closes the wooden shutters and I watch his
hesitating movements, he appeared almost scared. “You can trust me
you know that, right?” He turns to me and nods after some
time.

“
They’ve
only recently come to town but there has been several strange
things going on since they arrived, first it started with the
random disappearances of young women, than it went to aggressive
and violent uproars around the town then suddenly . . . ” he trails
off. I incline my head to the side waiting for him to go
on.

“
What?” I
urge.

“
Demons
started rising out of the shadows, savage animals I think they were
large wolves in size. Attacked several people; however, the
strangest part was how these demons appeared as men and women with
incredible strength and speed.” His voice is quiet as he reflects
back into the recent events that I know will be useful to this
investigation. “Homes and businesses were set alight and many
haven’t been properly buried. The weirdest part is how the church
that arranges the burials is so insistent on carrying out the
ceremonies.”

“
That is
strange.” I whisper. “I’m sure there are others who can perform the
burial.”

“
Not
anymore. They all left town; several other churches have been
abandoned while those of the Military have been guarding the
Brethren. Even before the other churches left they were still so
insistent.” I scowl at the new
information, 
why would the Military need to protect a church?

“
There’s more to them than meets the eye.”
 whispers a voice.

“
Did you
say something Max?” I ask. He shakes his head and I glance around
me. It wasn’t once but twice now I’ve heard that voice. I’m
starting to think I’m crazy. I brush it off. “Do you know where the
church is?”

“
On a
cliff at the edge of town.” he says. “It isn’t hard to miss.” I nod
and stand. I grasp my helmet and motion to leave. “Wait. You can’t
possibly go into that creepy place with just your
sword.”

“
I don’t
see why not.” I say.

“
Wait
here, I’ll be back.” he says before he scuttles off into the
shadows of his den.

I sit
patiently; waiting and take a glimpse atthe glass of a large vase
the dark glass outlines my features with surprisingdetail. I see my
black silver streaked hair, my mismatched eyes of black anddark
blue under my silver arched eyebrows where my silver strands of
hair fallon either side of my high cheekbones and slightly narrow
jaw-line. My smallplump red lips remain the same as always just a
different shade more crimson. There are two navy blue marks on my
cheeks and a seven-point star on myforehead, which sadly is not a
tattoo—it wasn’t over baring as it sat calmly upon my coffee
coloured skin.    

The
impending disgust I have with my reflection causes me to turn my
back on the image of myself in the crooked-sharp glass. How could I
not? I don
’t like how I
look since 
that
 battle; I can’t even transform resulting in my
crossed over appearance. Max returns. He places a black cloth on
the table and I gaze at it unsure of what exactly I am looking at
it. He unravels it and I gasp in surprise before exclaiming, “No
way!”

“
I
thought you might need these after the last battle, since, I saw
the result. Sadly, I can’t do anything about It.” he states in
reference to my appearance. Max is an inventor not a miracle worker
but I give him an appreciative gaze and place a hand over
his.

“
It’s
perfect, thank you.” He blushes and I giggle.

He
doesn’t seem to notice and I remove my hand and walk over to where
the weapons lay. What else is there to look for, to do when it is
all over? Everything that gave you the bit of strength to fight
that gave you the courage to stand before an army of twisted men
knowing that you’ll be nothing more than another victim? What do I
do? I kill. Without hesitation, I however, only kill those I know
are among the twisted and free. Without remorse nor regret knowing
that they cannot hurt anyone, even when they are dead, my soul
still battles theirs until they are completely erased from
existence.

I was
angry for my loss but now as I glimpse at the sight of what just
might save me I feel a pit of emptiness forming. It often comes
when I know that I have to go beyond the limit. To kill or not to
kill is the question, isn’t it? Yet there are some that will
without hesitation. I stare at my arsenal and nod. “I’ll infiltrate
and I’ll neutralize.” I say and he nods.

“
Just try
not to lose yourself.” In other words: “do 
not
 lose yourself to your
inner 
demon
”.

Later
that evening, I find myself standing on the edge cliff on a distant
mountain, feeling beyond free. Up here where the sky is the limit,
I feel more in tuned to my animal side than I ever thought I could
be. The ragged mountain overlooks the apostolic sin. Yet I have no
right to talk of sin when I’ve committed my own, still, I fight I
have no idea why when my anger burnt itself out years ago. I guess
if I can’t do what I can do, then who will? A question I know is
fairly ironic nonetheless I gaze upon the armed men in
uniform. 
War a horrible outcome of greed.

Hitherto,
they just like the humans, fearing what they cannot control. Fear
what they cannot predict and above all fear what they do not
understand. I am that embodiment of fear that they so desperately
try to govern and I inflict it without hesitation. I only hope that
Varden will never see this side of me. It is far from ladylike
might I say. A battlefield isn’t something that picks who walks on
it nor does it pick who suffers. My faceplate outlines the trees,
the grave sites, head stones, men and women.