Dragon Frost (15 page)

“
Heavens
no!” I squelch and her blue eyes like mine are wide at my reaction.
The last time I saw that reaction it was when I battled a large
serpent demon and was sent into one of the portals she sent to one
of the main areas of Earth, I succeeded in slaying the demon but
her face was like now. Her silver hair and blue eyes are the
angelic and demonic traits are constant reminders we have of our
heritage. Yet we vary from different skin shades to pale white like
my father to charcoal like the colour ash. Still our eyes always
stand out like our silver hair.

“
Then
what?” she asks.

“
I need
to know more about the Covenant.” Her face becomes grim but she
accepts my request nonetheless.

“
There is
much I know but not much I can tell you. There is a man, your Chief
Commander will know the answers you seek, and his name is Sir
Hughes Donnavin.”

I step on
the concrete pavements of New York City. I can’t help but feel
fairly odd at the sight of this place; it definitely has changed
since, I was last here. The cars, in this planet’s current time,
have no wheels and now zoom around hovering half a meter from the
ground; the cars are slick and compact. It reminds me of those
sci-fi movies I would watch as a teenager. Yet I have to remind
myself that this is reality, I am well over two hundred years old.
No surprise I guess. The advertisements for products of hair, skin
and flight tickets were seen not on billboards but flashing screens
that flick across the tinted glass, I only now recognize them as
office buildings as they stretch high and glorious into the
sky. 
Things sure have changed.

At that
regard, I know that I’ll have to catch up with the new technology
not that it matters, they are several hundred millennia behind us.
I stalk through the crowded streets and I’m surprised it seems not
as dark as its past was, that just shows that maybe they managed to
create a sustainable natural energy efficient environment. Last
time I heard, all the nuclear weapons were destroyed while
nanomites were used to repair, construct and reshape the bone
marrow as well as speed up self-generation. I turn down Fiftieth
and Fifty Second Street and I count down the numbers. Why the city
was designed with such weird street numbers only confused me more,
probably why long ago Australians would wonder with maps or people
they knew. Mainly people they knew. American cities were dangerous
but then again so was every other place including secluded islands.
Their venomous snakes and man eating sharks only wait for your
attempt at suicide.

I stand
at the steps of two closely positioned apartments, the red brick
walls only appearing younger than what I had expected. I wasn’t too
sure if they demolished it than rebuilt it but this is America
there’s nothing they do without reason. I trudge up the steep steps
and knock on the door. Nothing, seeing a buzzer beside it I press
the small black button. The stench of this place really didn’t do
me any favors, as I walked the streets in a coat, hat and
sunglasses. Since I couldn’t exactly get rid of my uniform, so
instead, I just managed to pass as some well-fashioned mystery this
is one of the main reasons, why I avoid Earth. A voice immediately,
pulls through the speaker. “May I help you?” the old female voice
asks and I press the black button again and speak.

“
Mr.
Hughes Donnavin.” I say.

“
One
moment,” I hear the echoing steps of a slender man, no doubt in his
late years. Not much I can tell other than that; which I still
think is pretty good in a way. The door opens and a man with blond
hair gestures me to enter. I nod and follow.

“
What
brings you here?” he asks.

“
Sir
Hughes Donnavin?” I question as I glance down at the scribbled
handwriting I was given by the Chief. At the time he was fussing
over his daughter as she went around to hand out coffee to several
desk workers that she knew or was familiar with. That
father-daughter relationship is odd, it took me a good few hours to
get the Chief to scribble down the Marshall’s name while he was
pulling up Tessa for every small thing. Taking in his appearance I
expected more. Much more. I still have no idea how this man was a:
Silver Order Marshall. He looks pretty human to me.

“
Yes.” he
says with a gaze at the piece of paper. I fold it away and I clear
my throat, still wondering how I was going to go about this he may
lock me up in a psychiatric ward. Humans can be scary in a way.
That’s the last place I want to be, that, and a lab of
course.

“
Do you
know of a Sir Gustof Donnavin?” I ask. His eyebrows arch in
surprise.

“
I
haven’t heard that name in a long time.” he says reflectively
before his eyes narrow down on me. “Who are you and how do you know
that name?” he asks. I slip my hand through my coat and pull out my
badge from my utility belt and flash it to him. The woman peering
around the corner, was short and stumpy—time wasn’t kind to her, as
her grey eyes hold suspicion. I place my badge away as Hughes
motions me to follow him up the narrow brown winding staircase. How
people lived in such close quarters almost made me feel
claustrophobic in comparison to the space of the Order. I glance
over my shoulder at the woman as I ascend the last set of stairs.
“Don’t worry about her, she’s a nosy old bag.” he comments and I
lift a brow. He shrugs off my questionable yet intimidating gaze
which I don’t think he realise s applies to me as well.

We make
our way to his apartment in silence, the jingling of his keys clash
loudly in my ears. I clench my jaw closed, forcing it not to growl
at the man before me who finally manages to have his door open
which didn’t completely open. He jerks it further and like that it
finally opens and he smiles over at me, stepping side he ushers me
in.

“
You
thirsty or hungry?” he asks. I shake my head. “Do say I didn’t
offer.”

He moves over
to his small old plump couch.

“
The
Covenant weren’t always around, weren’t always . . . what they are
now. They were something that many feared when the treaty was
signed between the governing worlds that have been abandoned by the
United Planets.” I remain silent as I continue to listen to the
tale, to the ties of the treaty to the slaughter of the ancient
bloodlines and royal families that governed the worlds of Babylon,
Persia, Sparta, Zylaria and Talin. The Nefaliem rose to fight the
bloodlines but it was all for naught when the royal family was
destroyed. “Not many people have risen up against the Covenant they
are what governs all the worlds without its rightful rulers and
royal guardians. The royal bloodlines are what gave the power their
worlds however, I’ve noticed that there is still preserved power
upon the four fallen worlds so I believe maybe they haven’t
completely killed off each royal descendent but left them alive for
a later purpose.”

“
So the
Midra city in Zylaria is equivalent to the other major cities on
the other four worlds.” I say. He nods. “I think things just became
a little more complicated.”

“
Were you
given something?” he asks me and I glance at him
catechizing.

“
No, I
would remember if I were.”

“
Are you
sure? Your Order, as you have told me has been infiltrated. No
doubt many have lost their lives.” His eyes are full of pain and I
realise than he fears for his brother and niece that I have yet to
confirm them as alive. “Did the Order carry a major burden of some
sort?”

“
I
figured it would have affected all of us but not to this extent. I
never really gave it much though.”

To make
the ideal child—to make the perfect warrior, Nefaliem women do not
carry their child but do conceive it with their chosen mate. The
child is then incubated by Tylif until it is ready to be
born.

Medical,
biological and energetic checks are conducted on the child to
determine if it is healthy and fit for battle. The Nefaliem have
created a society based on the energetic strength and bond with
their powers. The strongest of them is often a descendent of the
royal family or a high priest or priestess where they work within
the Hall of Gods with the prophets ensuring the race’s
survival.

They are
very few Nefaliem—the Covenant was created after the, dwindle of
hybrid numbers to ensure its rain—its closure to ensure its
influence. Many still hunt down the Nefaliem in fear of their power
and chance of survival. The animals, they are, the beasts. The
dragon race they are . . . as such they are hunted and slain out of
fear.

The
Nefaliem cousins the Nephilim are sheltered on an adjacent world;
they too can repopulate as any species would but are sub-divided
into angel and demon, depending on their heritage. They are the
ones with angel and Nefaliem blood or demon and Nefaliem blood.
These are also those that the angels and demons have conceived with
humanoid beings whether they be; Spartan, Persian, Babylonian,
Zylarian and Talian. This also refers to those of Earth. The
Grattican—beings they have been around as long as the Dragon Race
as long as the ‘Nefaliem’—the Serpents. The Nefaliem’s sworn
enemies, they are a different breed of dragons. Snake like beings
with paws and claws; they are wingless but have their own
power.

I take in
his words, when I hear the shattering of glass; I turn to the sound
where a thirty-two millimeter hole is present. I see nothing but
can smell blood. I turn to Gustof he falls down on his couch as
blood pools out of the mark on the side of his head. I stare at his
form; he was here alive a few seconds ago. He only spoke to me a
few seconds ago. I turn back to where the projectile entered from,
I stand on my feet. I leave. Everything will be okay I tell myself.
Everything will be okay. There’s an explanation for
everything. 
Why would he need to be assassinated?

S-M-A-C-K!
 The sound echoes through the library foyer where my
hand made contact with well chiseled features now a shade of red.
He places his hand upon his cheek. His eyes still remain playful.
“What’s wrong with you?” I demand and his eyes become soft as his
lips curl into a gentle smile. “Is this some game?” I ask. Altair
now stands with that playful look in his eyes. I had entered the
library in search of a book on recounts of the Covenant and their
occurrence. I needed more information and at that time I found
Altair. He just so happens to be in the same section—coincidentally
and I know that that is not true since I saw him follow me from the
Mass Hall.

He
trailed after me for some time we talked about home and what not
well mainly he spoke flirtatiously while I tried to hold up a
decent conversation. Each time I tried I fought the urge to throw
one of the books in his face. Still he continued and after I
managed to grasp one of the library books and leave. He had pulled
me up and asked me about the future. “Do you even want to marry
me?” he asked and I was shocked—I couldn’t exactly say no but
considering that he is concerned for me and our situation does make
me feel better well that was until he planted his lips against mine
without even my consent. I was lost at first but once reality hit
me, I hit him. Fair’s fair, love and more.

“
My dear,
that hurt.” he exasperates and I cross my arms turning from
him.

“
Good. I
sure hope so.” I commemorate. “I’m gone for what two days and you
lose him.” I growl turning back around to now face a red marked
Altair. He just rubs his cheek as if to dull the pain. I had only
arrived back from Earth after my encounter with the ex-Marshall who
was assassinated. I would have gone after him but didn’t instead
called for Nerelda and returned him back to the Order or what’s
left of it for a burial ceremony that has occurred on the
island—where the deceased citizens finally were at rest. I relaxed
when I found out the children had escaped with several knights into
the underground armory.

“
It’s not
my fault, he lied and disappeared.” His hand now slack by his side
as he glances at me with a serious gaze.

“
Why
didn’t you go with him?” I retort, annoyed.

“
Kal,
you’re implying going with him to the bathroom. I don’t know how
you ladies do it but men don’t go accompanying other men unless
they are gay.” he says as a matter of fact, which, to my surprise
is true. I saw that a lot on Earth and I was only there for a short
time. I tap my foot on the stone floor in the Order which is now
undergoing repairs.

“
That’s
not the point.” I say. “Vedric is gone. We have no way of finding
him.” I rejoinder and glance at where my hand effectively slapped
Altair. To be honest I had no idea what brought that on—still he
deserved it. I would have felt guilty if Altair wasn’t such a
harassing womanizer not that he’s forced himself or his hands on
women who didn’t want him. I guess he’s just trying to find where
he stands with us since I’m unsure about how I feel about
him—yet.

“
He’s not
the Prince so you can relax and why did you slap me?” he asks
innocently. I raise a brow. Is he honestly asking me that? His hand
returns back to his face where I’m sure the pain is gone? I move my
other hand down to where his free hand lies on my lower back; I
twist his thick scales where the evident pain runs across his face.
He pulls away and cradles his hand. “And what was that for?” he
asks in reference to me pinching his hand. I sigh in defeat,
sometimes I wonder why he even bothers asking.