Dragon Frost (11 page)

“
Why am I
here?” he asks and I turn to where he stands a meter behind
me.

“
That is
the fun part, young man.” he says and I
stop. 
Did he just say young?

“
How old
is he?” I question faster than I can stop the words. The Chief
regards me for a moment with an even gaze but answers
nonetheless.

“
He’s
twenty three, still a young man in my eyes.” he says as he glances
at Varden before he turns his gaze on me. “Wouldn’t you agree?” I
nod. Only realizing now how much older I am than him it seems
almost weird; I feel like a cougar at the moment. I could be his
great-great-great grandparent.

“
Sir,” I
begin evening out my voice after that awkward information. “How is
he related to all of this?” I ask. It was a question that I’ve been
meaning to find out lately. First an Outlander, than a group of
Golgotha’s followers and then 
that
 Assassin all these correlating points makes me;
wonder 
who
 he
really is.

“
He,
Kalverya, just maybe the descendant of King Rupert.” he says and I
gape at him. The previous King, King Rupert—the one hundred and two
year old man who refused to hand over his title—the preceding King
who ruled this planet with an iron fist. I remember when he was
just a scrawny Prince. 
It is odd how time flies.

“
You’re
joking, 
right
?”

“
No,
I’m 
not
. Many people
still don’t like the idea of a Monarchy so they try to dissolve any
possible chance it has of acquiring its power, again.” he says.
“It’s one of the main reasons why I had assigned you to this
mission. You have protected the Royal family for many years and it
would only make sense if you continued to do such that, regardless
of how many years have passed.” he says. I nod.

“
But . .
. are you sure it’s 
him
?” I
ask, desperate to know the truth.

“
That’s
what we need to find out. There are three others here who could be
the potential descendant. As such we need to question them.” he
says, “We would use Electrophoresis like you do on Earth and
Nephelia but we sadly are not as advanced so cannot carry out such
a complex form of magic even though we’ve managed to harvest indoor
plumbing.” he says.

“
It’s
science.” I retort. “And you’re doing a lot better than Earth, they
didn’t start indoor plumbing until the twentieth century. I think.
I was born after.”

“
What’s
the difference?” I don’t reply, there’s no point in trying to
explain something like he said: so “complex” to someone so
unevolved. I hold my tongue in hope not to offend
him 
not
 because
he’s my boss but because he was my friend first. We met a long time
ago when he and I were just Lieutenants. Ever since the battle on
the Southern Plains he’s been a good friend of mine.

“
Okay.”
says Varden after a moment’s pause that had filled the room with an
impenetrable silence. “How long do I have to be here?” he
asks.

“
For only
a week or two that should give us enough time to trace your family
tree and find out where you descend but if you already know it than
we’ll be one step ahead.” he says and Varden nods. After that I
lead Varden to his quarters where he’ll be staying in the guest
wing, the stone onyx walls remain the same as ever.

“
Do you
think it’s me?” he asked. I had no answer to that, I really didn’t
know who he was, so to even say what he may not be, I find that I
couldn’t do that. The part of finding a person’s identity is that
from a family, my family I know for a fact is all over the place.
So there really was no need for me to give him hope that may or may
not crush his spirit in the end.

Now, I
wonder the halls, soon to find my way back to my room or so I think
until I see a man dressed in black leaning against one of the stone
walls. His head turns to me as his brown hair sprawls down his
shoulders. Those brown eyes watch me with a form of amusement which
only annoys me more. “What are you doing here?” I ask, last time I
saw him he was at the Moonlight Inn. “Don’t you have a mission to
be doing?”

“
It’s
already done.” he says as he makes his way toward me.

“
Why are
you here?” I ask. His lips pull themselves into a smirk and he
turns his gaze out onto the courtyard below, I follow his gaze to
see a man in silver uniform, his silver cloak stretched out behind
him as his brown steed trots towards where the Chief Commander
stands.

“
No
reason just came to watch the play.” he says and I raise a
brow.

“
It’s 
show
,” I
comment.

“
Same
thing, the only difference is, this is 
reality
.” he says and turns and walks away. My gaze
returns to the man, his silver hair sprawls down his back as his
blue eyes regard the Chief before bowing with a hand over his heart
in respect. His eyes turn to me a smile pulls his lips upward; I
couldn’t help but smile as well. 
After all this time, he’s back and he’s
alive.

The
gentle warmth of the sun bequeathed upon me this morning is what
pulls me from my sleep where I turn under the thick blood red silk
sheets. My bed against the wall and my lotus plant in the corner,
there’s a desk just opposite my bed with a quill and ink pod. Along
with several well cut sheets of paper. I had to write my report
today, something I wasn’t looking forward to but like everything
else it had to be done. No questions asked. I force myself out of
my bed and move over to my bathroom.

The cold
shower of water touches my skin, Zylaria, may have indoor plumbing
but it lacks the technology to heat up that very same water,
something which the Chief said in due time will come. Explaining
why some people prefer to have their baths drawn at least the
water’s warmer than from the shower head. The wooden basin is later
filled with warmer water where; I fix and brush my hair, cleaning
my face I dab it dry pulling out a white cloth the water drained.
“Today’s going to be a long day.” I mutter under my dry white towel
planted against my face. It isn’t perfect like the ones on earth
but similar in thickness just with untended and unstitched scruffs
at the end. I remove the towel and sigh.

I had no
idea what to do. Altair’s back, I wasn’t dreaming and he’s here on
Zylaria. I glance at the mirror. A set of mismatched ocean blue and
deep black eyes stare back at me like a belligerent. I almost
didn’t recognize myself, it is strange isn’t it? How a person can
look different one moment but the same the next. Years of covering
my features obviously had played some sort of trick on my mind. My
scales crawl upon my skin where they initiate from my chin down to
the soles of my feet, up to the nape of my neck covering everything
else in between.

I
remember when I first arrived here, Tessa, would often ask me what
would happen if I tried to cut my scales and I told her “nothing”
they were as strong as steel or stronger and as stubborn as I am to
not expose my skin for too long even though it was my skin. There
is something about our scales removing themselves every year for a
whole week for the necessity of reproduction. However, they weren’t
always black, my uniform was blue as my eyes lined in silver and
black around my three layered armour which is engraved in an
ancient language for protection against the battle of
demons.

The
ironic thing about that is when you are half one, your expected to
kill what practically made you. Still not even the angels and gods
are saints. That is something I have to remind myself, after all,
the majority of demons are now, fallen angels. The amount of times
they lied and deceived their own kind so they can wonder on random
worlds, I and many of my people, would have to turn a blind eye at
their actions because our father Neragarden helped created us even
if it wasn’t intentional. As such we had and have to respect his
wishes. There’s no wonder why 
she
, Hella is the second wife of Satan and the sister of
Lilith is our mother even though she’s not
exactly 
my
 mother.
That woman I vowed I would never be like and yet there are things
that I would do the things she would do, I subconsciously
mimic.

I had to
pull myself up on that a few times since she seems to have some
small grain of power over me that if I don’t mind will grow like a
cancer. She may have given birth to me but she’s friends with the
demon queens, therefore, if given the opportunity to I will have to
kill her. Not that I’ll hesitate. My sister and father are the ones
I truly treasure even though they are no longer with me. I knew the
day I found out what she did, I vowed I would never make the same
mistake.

That
opportunity to prove I’m not like my mother just may happen, since,
Altair is the person I’m expected to marry. We aren’t betrothed
since my parents had nothing to do with it. However, a form of gene
therapy on our world is known as ‘Tylif’. It is what determines
Nefelian citizens of nobility, politics, business, science and
military the best-potential mate based on their genetic blueprints
creating a possible ideal child between them. So naturally, women
of my class had to marry men based on if they are our other half,
if they can carry the duties we may have in equivalence that goes
both ways though. Sadly, we have no say in it and I’m not going to
go against the ‘Royal Court’.

It’s
still a stupid idea but people who are too busy to settle down have
Tylif to do all the things they don’t have time for. In a way it’s
good and bad but just like anything it’s not perfect. So there’s no
excuse when trying to increase our populous size since we are an
advanced warrior race who have been around for a very long time and
I mean before Earth. My people have battled other worlds, demons,
plagues, famine and poverty countless times proving we never had
time to really battle ourselves but as such, many lives were lost
over the centuries. Now, there’s only a handful of Nefaliem. Since
our race, aren’t barbarians the idea of sharing men and women
around didn’t seem healthy. So therefore, Tylif was
created.

I leave
my room with my cloak covering my scales that lines the majority of
my body’s contours. With people around, we as Nefaliem were
required to be modest especially in front of other students when on
our worlds our clothes are our scales. I wind my way down various
halls and find myself in a courtyard; the sound of clashing metal
can be heard close-by as Instructors teach their students. This
wasn’t just any Academy but a University. “There you are, I’ve been
looking for you.” says a familiar voice, I turn to see Tessa
smiling at me and I quirk a brow.

“
What’s
up? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“
I am and
we, kind of, have a bit of a situation . . . ” she confesses and I
frown at her words and wait for her to go on before she
reluctantly, continues. “Sir Amandale has bound himself with a
Wiccan spell.” I stare at her wondering if I heard her right or
not, her face tints a light pink and I turn my gaze to the clouds
hoping it would write out the answer. I follow Tessa and after
several long minutes. I soon find myself in a clearing of a forest
that boarders the large city of Muland.

The awning is
not as dense so, it was just your regular forest, per say. By the
time I arrive, I see a bunch of frantic students around their early
twenties gaping at the sight of what I believe to be their
Instructor, immediately my hand finds my head as I shake it in both
utter disbelief and humiliation.

“
Do I
want to know?” I ask the man who’s wrapped around his own limps.
His legs wound up around his head, his arms locked through the gaps
and I know, it must be utterly painful because I know he’s not that
flexible.

“
Maybe
not.” he says and I hear gentle laughs around me,
it 
is
 an
amusing sight. Maybe he should have been a circus performer. Since,
he’s always going beyond what is required of the curriculum and
this is a perfect example, no doubt trying to show the students how
dangerous Wiccan Magic is. I move over to him and kneel, I examine
the painful position his in and wonder how I could unwind him. I
glance around. 
Was I the first person they thought of?

“
Ha!
Serves you right Harond.” says the voice, which I know all too
well. I turn to see a man with red hair and blue eyes. He holds his
stomach as he continues to laugh gasping every now and again for
air afore he manages to calm down and wipe a tear from his far
eye.

“
Can you
be anymore 
rude
 Sir
Vingreth?” I demand and he stands up straight.

“
Sorry
ma’am I didn’t see you there.” he apologizes and walks over, his
face grim as we try to figure out how to pull him from the shape
he’s in. I know we could just pull his legs from over his head but
I worry about the spell if it would even let us. “I’m not good with
Wiccan magic. Is there anyone else?” I ask knowing that I can help
but I just may risk turning him into a toad and I really didn’t
want that. He shakes his head than the words of Hazlitt enters my
mind 
”if
you require aid you won’t have it”
 I frown at the
memory. 
That man always seems to know when to plant things in my
mind.
 I stand.
“Looks like I have no choice.” I say hiding the hint of fear I
feel.