Dragon Frost (6 page)

“
What do
you mean someone?”

“
I mean
an Assassin. Now get dressed.”

“
Can you
leave?” he demands and I move over to his satchel and pull out his
clothes.

“
Dress!”
I order and point to the lavatory. He grasps it reluctantly before
entering the bathroom. I sit on the bed and prey I’m not seeing
things. I turn to the window and I see a faint layout of a white
hood. I stand. 
He’s here.

“
Varden?”
I call. As I move to the door, I drum it quietly.

“
What?”
He swings the door open frustrated, his forehead in firm creases,
his brows narrowed and jaw muscle twitching. I believe at this
point he wants to yell at me but is fighting the urge to do so, I
don’t blame him. I did kind of enter his room uninvited when he was
practically naked.

“
He’s
here.” I whisper and like that the glass shatters. I shield Varden
and myself from the oncoming shards to see the same man from before
than a thought occurred to me. I had to be sure. I tell myself. The
man slowly rises from the ground, two blades in hand and he turns
to us. I move between the two. “Who are you?”

“
A
warrior of God.” he says and I give him a side look. Really he’s
going to say that he sounds like a lunatic. Yet there are people in
this universe who believes in our creators not that there’s any
evidence of their existence. Just like the universe, it is still
ever expanding.

“
Why are
you here?”

“
Hand
over the package and I won’t kill him.” he says pointing one of his
blades to Varden who steps back. I hear the tapping of wood. I
glimpse at Varden’s hand at the corner of my eye, he lifts his bow
and a single arrow. The arrow positioned in the bow; ready to be
fired still the assassin doesn’t seem to be bothered. I guess I
wouldn’t either but seeing how Varden had taken down several
enemies, he appears to know not just how to shoot but has had
experience which I’m sure will be beneficial for us in order to
survive.

“
Why
should he die?”

“
Because,
he’s my target,” I glance at Varden surprised, his face grim and I
feel as though that he’s frustrated but this time it’s not directed
at me. I wonder if he was hiding something from me I know everyone
has their secrets and everyone has their crosses to bare but this
was something I have to say shouldn’t have been hidden if he meant
he would die. I was surprisingly enjoying having company on my long
journeys.

“
Varden?”
I question with confusion. Why the assassin would be after him made
me curious, I couldn’t help but wonder about that. Still it was
strange hearing it roll off the tongue of the enemy.

“
Yes,
Varden, if that is even his real name.” comments the
Assassin.

“
And you
are?” I demand.

“
Lifet is
my name,” he says with a bow.

“
I’m
sorry but he’s not handing over anything.” I say with an even tone,
he regards me for a moment with dark eyes and I pull out my
knives.

“
Have it
your way.” he snarls and launches himself at me. The sound of
slashing metal fills the room and Varden I hear still stands in the
bathroom, our movements were quick. I throw my knives at his form,
he dodges it quickly and I scowl.

He
appears to be a lot quicker than normal Zylarian men. The soldiers
and warriors I went up against were normally penetrated by my
knives. I’m forced to the ground in a blink of an eye and struggle
under him with my forearm guard at his neck, my fist curl tightly,
I fight the urge to slice his throat there with my blade,
surprisingly I feel something sharp and cold still against my
scales and I glare at him, my blade slowly becomes released. It
slides along his neck and into his hood.

In one move he
’ll be dead.

“
Have it
your way.” I repeat and he scowls.

“
Get off
of her or I’ll shoot.” threatens Varden. I am surprised at the
amount of venom in his voice but don’t show it. Slowly the man in
white pulls himself from me with his hands raised and I
frown. 
He isn’t much of an assassin.
 As if he heard my thoughts; he smiles at me
with a very unsettling smile. The sight of him smiling would have
made me uneasy if I weren’t used to those sinister smiles already.
Moments later, he’s bound on the bed, arms and legs restrained and
Varden turns to the door. “I’ll prepare our horses.” he says and I
nod, leaving me with the Assassin. His smile still present and I
fight the urge to punch him. I figured I would refrain from that
since he appears as though he would enjoy it to my disbelief but
with that painted expression and those cats like eyes anything is
possible with him.

“
We’ll
I’m surprised.” he declares after a long pause; I turn to him. My
face blank as ever as my face plate scanned his body, taking in his
height and every other piece of information I may need if I were to
meet him again.

“
About
what?”

“
Nothing
. . . ” he trails off his face still with mischief and I scowl. I
hear racing footsteps after several minutes of silence. The
assassin will no doubt be after us, the moment we are gone, better
to leave now and quick before he can catch us. I hear Varden’s
footsteps approach the door, he swings it open and we leave. I set
a pace that leaves the city behind, in the distance out horses run
hard for our emanate departure. By the time we set up camp it’s
midday, we were several days ride away from the town of
Pallin
and I sit on a grey boulder mostly naked
my parts—covered.

With a
pill of water at my feet and a damp cloth, I began to wipe the muck
and dirt from my skin, the sweat. I feel the warm water on my skin
as the wind picks up making it feel cool. I regard the clear
crystal water; the sun rays gently touch the calm waves creating an
enchanting scene—in the distance—several islands. Yet, I have
strange sensation that I’m being watched, I can’t help but think of
the Assassin from the previous day.

At that
instance I pick up my curved blade I had nestled beside me. Silence
filled the clearing. I move along the clearing, blade in hand, the
blade along my forearm where it is positioned ready to switch
positions if necessary. I feel an oncoming presence, picking up my
ears, I scan the tree line. Something is here, and I only have my
dagger. The sound is something which elevates around the clearing,
I feel those eyes firmly on me and I approach. Yet, I stop knowing
that, this may not be the wisest move since he or she may be
expecting such an occurrence.

I pick up
a large stone where my fingers entranced the stone firmly. I sniff
the air, grateful that I didn’t lose all my abilities of my
heritage. I hear the crackling of leaves ever loudly and I toss the
stone where I heard it, at the opposite end of the
clearing. 
Thud!
 I
sprint towards it. My bare skin no doubt is being sliced from the
thick branches as I have to be wary of my footing or risk having a
snare trap plunged into my feet. The thought of that surprisingly
didn’t sit all that well with me. A blur at the corner of my eye
was seen and I tackle it, I top of it I sat where I place the blade
to his throat. “Varden?”

“
H–e–y
. . .” he
says slowly, “I came to ask. If you wanted me to save you, some
food?” His face is full of excitement and shock at the same
time.

“
What’s
with the creeping around? You can just come and tell me.” I say as
I pull myself from him and help him to his feet.

“
What are
you talking about, I just got here.” he admits with confusion. I
stare at his words. How was that possible when I felt as though
someone was watching me for a good fifteen minutes? His pulse
remained normal as he wasn’t sweating so I figured he wasn’t lying
but that is something that isn’t always
right. 
I’ll have to trust his words.

“
Sorry
for tackling you.” I say.

“
It’s
alright, you didn’t hurt me.” he says and I give him a side look,
crossing my arms I purposely raise my brow and he looks away before
back saying, “Alright maybe you hurt me a little, but only a
little.”

We ride
through the forest when I smell smoke and the sound of crackling
wood the sound pops in my ears, I pull up my horse. “What’s wrong?”
he asks from beside me. I hear the sound of screaming and slashing
flesh. I urge my horse into a full gallop and I hear Varden call
out after me but I ignore him, it sounded like people. The scent of
burning flesh fills my nose and I fight the hunting desire in my
blood, the dragon, in desire for a meal. Why would I be hungry when
I ate a while ago? Then again, I haven’t had raw meat and blood for
a long time—I curse my biological needs, to be
a 
beast
 is
something I cannot completely ignore.

The branches
slap my face and limbs, the pain non-existent. I continue to jaunt
through the dense forest, following my nose succeeding that which I
know best. It may be, me, overreacting but the scent of burning
flesh is all too familiar. Back on Earth, many years ago. There
were times when savage bush fires would ruin the southern lands of
Australia, the southern lands of my home, explaining my
English-Australian accent. Every fifty years or so, several; men,
women and children never made it out and we were too late to
help.

Ever
since the Bush-Fires my nose has been far more sensitive, far more
desperate—to pick up the scent sooner rather than later . . . I
pull up my horse, at the edge of a cliff, where the scent of ash
and smoke is more evident. Dark grey clouds ascend to the sky; it
contrasts the white fluffy and calm clouds, several hundred
thousand meters above ground. I hear the hooves of Varden’s horse.
He stops beside me as he normally does. “No way.” he whispers in
disbelief. His eyes are wide as he takes in the yellow, orange and
red flames which engulf the town greedily. The sound of screams
manifests and I dismount my horse.

“
I’ll go
ahead. Take my horse. I’ll see you soon.” He nods and I leap off
the edge of the cliff, the grey walls line my silver and black form
as I see the tree line on fast approach. My cloak and hair trail
after me as I take to the trees. By the time I manage to make my
way to the tow, I see carriages horseless and bodies everywhere. I
hear a high pitched blood curdling scream—a woman. I sprint to the
sound. Her messy brown hair sprawled down her back as ash streaks
her beige features.

“
There’s
one still alive.” grunts a man in black, red
armour, 
the Grattican!

“
Kill her
and be done with It.” orders the second of the three. The woman
crawls along the dirt earth desperate to be free, desperate to
survive. One of the men heavily armed approaches her figure a
sinister smile playing at his ungodly features. I race towards
them, my form warps and I find myself behind the two men—the
bystanders of this whole ordeal.

I force
out both of my forearm blades where one slices the throat of one
man and the other is knifed in the stomach with my other blade, his
eyes wide as I hear his heart slowing down. He drops, his last beat
cease, his last intake of breath . . . is final. I throw a blade to
the exposed throat of the man after he spun around in surprise. He
falls down to the ground and the woman screams. I jog over to
her.

“
Hey,
it’s okay. They can’t hurt you, now!” I say as she screams and
fights me. “I won’t hurt you.” I manage, she stops, and her eyes
lock on mine, fear evident in her chocolate coloured eyes which
blink in recognition to my words. Her eyes fall to the crest upon
my chest and I help her to her feet once she had calmed down a bit.
“They didn’t do anything to you did they?” I ask in fear of her
mental well-being. She shakes her head. “Is anyone else
alive?”

“
No,
they’re all dead.” she sobs and I place a reassuring hand on her
shoulder as she releases the flooding pain of loss and sorrow. “My
friends, my family, all gone!” Tears streak her face and I hear
hooves racing in the distance, I turn to the sight to see a black
spec in the distance. I turn back to the woman and stay with her
until Varden arrives, once he does, the woman steps behind me and
concern masks his features.

“
It’s
okay he won’t hurt you.” I reassure and go to him.

“
Is there
anyone else alive?” he asks. I shake my head.

“
No, this
woman…” I begin looking at her before regarding Varden, “…claims to
be the sole survivor.” His face is grim and I move aside as Varden
demounts his steed and holds out a hand to her.

“
I’m
Varden, you are?”

“
If that is; even his 
real
 name.”
 whispers that same haunting voice.

PANAL PLAINS,
BRONZE COUNTRY, 1715 ZYLARIA

“
Mina.”
she says, appearing more comfortable with Varden, specifically,
after he placed a gentle peck on her hand like an upper class
gentleman. Still ever since that incident with the Assassin, I’m
starting to question 
who
 he really is and with that the trust I was almost
willing to give. I close him off. Questions flood my mind. I leave
Mina and Varden be, as they discuss the incident and
search 
the
 reason
as to why this town of all that lay with this valley, was attacked.
Rubble and debris is left behind after the uproar of the ever
dangerous and consuming flames of the fire.