Chapter 8 AN UNCOMMON IDENTITY

Noontide had not long flown by. At the Linthra Falls in the outskirts of Linthra which was a Zedzkan border city, on fallen leaves and the verdant grass that grew by the rocks on one side of the Linthra Basin, where great trees with bountiful branches of flourishing leaves formed a bower and a home for the zephyr below the white-hot sun, at a point where the unsung but liquid birdsong was afoot, Detran was lying face up in a seemingly deep slumber.

The delicious breeze was streaming through the area, making the leaves rustle delightfully, being a caress to the skin and a beloved to the sense of smell, moreover, the sound of the falling water was no scourge to the ears.

Detran was a fair beauty with overlong golden dreadlocks whose length was a little more than half his stature. As his dreadlocks were free, they were like overground roots of a tree over the grass. He was a clean-limbed six-footer in a black cuirass.

His black trousers, fitting closely over his legs, were made of leather as were the longish boots about his feet. His earrings, nose ring, pair of bracelets and the fairly heavy chain around his neck glistered with daylight, for they were pieces of golden jewellery.

He soon awakened to the beauteous scenery, and his liquid sapphire eyes were as calm as his still body. Perhaps he had chosen this spot as a paradise for repose. He thought that he was alone until he looked to his left and found a gamine creature in a shiny catsuit that was made of black leather.

Her knee-length boots, also made of leather, were gleaming with polish. She was carrying a longbow and a quiver which was full of arrows on her back. Two daggers in sheaths were at her belt, and a spear was in her left hand.

Although the maiden was beautiful and fair, 'twas not her beauty that made the young man widen his eyes unsmilingly. What brought surprise to Detran was the sword that the woman was holding as she was busy contemplating the inscriptions and crests that were in the face of the gold scabbard where the sword was reposed.

Detran sighed and seemed too lazy to arise. Hesitatingly, he sat up. It was now that the young woman noticed that Detran had awoken.

"You're awake," she smiled.

"You're holding what is mine," said Detran seemingly lazily. He was not afraid and did not appear suspicious of her despite the weapons that were in her possession. "You have to give it back."

"I haven't said it belongs to me," she smiled. Her eyes dropped to the sword again. "A very fine sword with a golden sheath." She smiled at Detran. "There is something amazing about you."

"Whack my ass for my big mistake," said Detran. He arose lazily but did not move a step towards her. "I must have slumbered like a big fool. I should have let nobody see that."

"Your sword is very beautiful," she said, looking at Detran with gravitas. She drove her spear into the ground so that it stood like a stanchion. She pulled the sword almost halfway out of the gold scabbard, hereupon wonder filled her over the golden razor-sharp blade. "The blade is also made of gold."

"You have seen enough already," Detran frowned angrily. His anger had started to deepen. "Now give it back!"

"This is too beautiful to be a weapon," she smiled. "Has it drawn any blood? Has it taken any life?"

"What should I tell a random maiden?" Detran growled with anger. "Just give back what belongs to me."

"I'm not also the friendly kind of person," she said. "I'm going hunting as you can see and you must come with me."

"I want none of your silly games!" Detran thundered.

The maiden seemed to be ogling Detran over his loveliness. "Perhaps you should do the chase," she smiled. She sheathed the sword completely. "You don't believe you can catch me?"

The young woman cast Detran a wink, turned on her heel and started to hurtle away as though she was trying to fly mortal peril, leaving behind her hunting spear. Her seemingly puerile action irked Detran.

"What's all this bullshit?" Detran mused.

The maiden, having covered over twenty yards away from her erstwhile position, looked behind and vainly beheld Detran. She halted at once and turned around so as to easily notice where Detran might be hiding. Detran seemed to be a creature in her imagination as though he had never really been there with her a moment ago.

She could see and feel Detran's sword in her hand, hence she reflected on Detran's whereabouts because, by common judgement, it would be awfully foolish of Detran to hide behind trees or rocks rather than go after the precious weapon that belonged to him.

"Behind you," said Detran.

The maiden looked behind and beheld Detran who was standing about five yards away. She was rooted to the spot, for the movement that Detran had just made was wildly out of the ordinary. To her eyes, she was standing before a supernatural being. Terror impinged upon her as there was anger in Detran's eyes.

"I warned you about silly games," Detran hissed.

The woman, grimacing with terror, nodded her head in concurrence, too frightened that she let not words pass her lips. She turned around fearfully and then held out the sword towards Detran with both hands.

Detran spirited himself forwards towards her. She felt the force through which the sword was disengaged from her hand even as Detran, being a blurry figure, flashed past her like a gale.

She beheld Detran around no more, for he was supernaturally fleet and faster than a powering bolt. Besides, Detran, with his supernatural fleetness, possessed occult resilience to always regain his brawn with every step he took, having no loss of energy.

He was a young man with preternatural strength. Although the maiden in the catsuit might have had experiences with beings of the occult, whether white witches or perilous occultists, she had just encountered what she would ne'er forget.