Chapter II, The Draga
"You remembered, Lord Akis."
The speaker was a pretty woman of around Jim's age, with long reddish-brown hair and eyes that kept flashing different colors every few seconds, until they decided on a deep and beautiful green. Her skin was almost as pale as the moon, and her eyes were watching the two men intently. This new person's face was like a cat's; calm, smooth, and relaxed, with not a wrinkle or crack. Her posture was straight, her beautifully crafted elvish cloak hanging down, a wave of green and gold. A smile broke on her face, and formed a full, red cat grin. This person. this woman. "Not human." Jim mumbled, reaching for his pistol. "What a smart boy." The woman smiled, walking over, and speaking as one would speak to a young child. "Is he your son, John?" -She.- Jim thought furiously. -She's treating me like a KID!- His face turned a light shade of red as the young woman grinned, as if aware of what he was going to, trying to make him do it. John saw, and glared at the young woman, who stopped grinning, and looked away. "Apprentice, Drusilla." John said, slowly moving Jim's hand away from his belt. "What news do you bring from Chalin?" "My father would call a meeting." The woman, Drusilla, said, her face suddenly cold. "Something is going to happen. It has the elves worried. This is not a good sign, Cawdor." "WHAT?!" Jim watched in confusion and fury as his mentor and master packed quickly. "We're going to Chalin?!" Jim shouted, waving his arms in angst. "What about our cargo?! We've already got everything in place! I." "I need to go." John said, coolly, throwing weapons and things into a small pack. "There is something that worries me. Drusilla says that the elves are worried. Elves do not worry unless matters are catastrophic." "Drusilla." Jim paused. "Who was that girl anyway? How do you know her? What IS she?"
"Drucanis." John corrected. "Drusilla is her name in English. She is a Draga, daughter of Makron and Detris, the rulers of the Draga. I have known her almost all of my life."
"Draga." Jim mumbled, throwing his own stuff into a duffel bag. "Those are the supposed immortals born from the bodies of dead gods. They're sacred vampires, right? Day-walkers. Visiting spacers would talk about them."
"What are you doing?" John said, pausing to watch Jim pack.
"Going with you." Jim said, throwing in his jacket. "You think it'll be cold there?"
"It's too dangerous." John said, taking out his pipe and lighting it, as he continued to pack.
"You don't thing that I'll let you go alone, do you?" Jim gave a sarcastic look as he tossed a matchbox to John.
"Your mother will KILL me." John sighed, almost giving in, smiling. If only he had been younger, the adventures he and Jim would have had.
Jim threw his bag over his shoulder, determined. The young man stared at John, with a look of determination, with the same fire in his eyes as he had had when he was young. Sometimes that boy could be such a pain in the. "Fine." John said, rolling his eyes.
"Wahoo!"
The speaker was a pretty woman of around Jim's age, with long reddish-brown hair and eyes that kept flashing different colors every few seconds, until they decided on a deep and beautiful green. Her skin was almost as pale as the moon, and her eyes were watching the two men intently. This new person's face was like a cat's; calm, smooth, and relaxed, with not a wrinkle or crack. Her posture was straight, her beautifully crafted elvish cloak hanging down, a wave of green and gold. A smile broke on her face, and formed a full, red cat grin. This person. this woman. "Not human." Jim mumbled, reaching for his pistol. "What a smart boy." The woman smiled, walking over, and speaking as one would speak to a young child. "Is he your son, John?" -She.- Jim thought furiously. -She's treating me like a KID!- His face turned a light shade of red as the young woman grinned, as if aware of what he was going to, trying to make him do it. John saw, and glared at the young woman, who stopped grinning, and looked away. "Apprentice, Drusilla." John said, slowly moving Jim's hand away from his belt. "What news do you bring from Chalin?" "My father would call a meeting." The woman, Drusilla, said, her face suddenly cold. "Something is going to happen. It has the elves worried. This is not a good sign, Cawdor." "WHAT?!" Jim watched in confusion and fury as his mentor and master packed quickly. "We're going to Chalin?!" Jim shouted, waving his arms in angst. "What about our cargo?! We've already got everything in place! I." "I need to go." John said, coolly, throwing weapons and things into a small pack. "There is something that worries me. Drusilla says that the elves are worried. Elves do not worry unless matters are catastrophic." "Drusilla." Jim paused. "Who was that girl anyway? How do you know her? What IS she?"
"Drucanis." John corrected. "Drusilla is her name in English. She is a Draga, daughter of Makron and Detris, the rulers of the Draga. I have known her almost all of my life."
"Draga." Jim mumbled, throwing his own stuff into a duffel bag. "Those are the supposed immortals born from the bodies of dead gods. They're sacred vampires, right? Day-walkers. Visiting spacers would talk about them."
"What are you doing?" John said, pausing to watch Jim pack.
"Going with you." Jim said, throwing in his jacket. "You think it'll be cold there?"
"It's too dangerous." John said, taking out his pipe and lighting it, as he continued to pack.
"You don't thing that I'll let you go alone, do you?" Jim gave a sarcastic look as he tossed a matchbox to John.
"Your mother will KILL me." John sighed, almost giving in, smiling. If only he had been younger, the adventures he and Jim would have had.
Jim threw his bag over his shoulder, determined. The young man stared at John, with a look of determination, with the same fire in his eyes as he had had when he was young. Sometimes that boy could be such a pain in the. "Fine." John said, rolling his eyes.
"Wahoo!"