Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  “The orc commander you faced was, for lack of a better term; created.” He said.

  “Created?” Tristan asked in shock. “How?”

  “The elves have observed some magicians working with the orcs; they bred orc genes with the lizards and reptiles in the north. They manipulate the eggs, mutilate the young and generally conduct black arts to bring them to maturity as quickly as possible.” Tulio explained.

  “Those orcs are hatched, as their reptile cousins are, in crèches deep in the swamplands. They are taught warfare and murder from hatchling to adulthood. The elves and dragons fear that they will make this world as warlike and chaotic as Fangoria was.” Tulio stated.

  “Wait. Which dragons?” Beth asked in surprise.

  “The one you call Draconis.” The orc replied.

  Chapter 11

  Tristan?

  Yes grandfather? The Prince answered slowly.

  Once the shock had worn off that there were two breeds of orc, he and Beth had returned to searching for the cure to Maggie’s poisoning. Tulio offered his aid, and it turned out that he also could read draconic. They poured through works of all kinds in every language imaginable and a few that looked like little more than sword slashes on paper. Tulio had informed him that they were written in old orcish. Tristan was glad for his help and found that he did indeed have much in common with the orc; a conclusion that had been quite unsettling.

  The night before he and Beth had been invited to a feast and been introduced to several other orcs who were quite similar to Tulio. Some appeared to be older, while others were unmistakably young. Some wore paint on their faces, a marking of their clan Tristan had been told. Others wore different cuts of clothing or ceremonial weapons and armor. None of them had the aggressiveness Tristan had experienced in war; in fact some of them were quite cowardly and sheepish. Almost as disquieting as Beth speaking out loud, Tristan chuckled to himself.

  You need this flower. Draconis sent, a clear image of a purple flower appeared in his mind.

  Where can I find it? Tristan asked, snapping his book shut and making both Beth and Tulio jump in surprise.

  “What is it?” Beth asked quickly.

  “I’m not sure. Just a moment.” He replied.

  Draconis told Tristan of the youngling showing him the flower and where it was located. I’d advise finding it somewhere else though my boy. He warned

  Why? Tristan asked.

  Because if that’s the only place it can be found, you can be sure it’s a trap. Draconis explained sarcastically.

  You think? Tristan answered curtly. Thank you. He sent calmly.

  “Do you have any elven artists?” Tristan asked a librarian close by. The elf nodded and bowed his way out of the library, presumably to fetch one.

  “What’s going on?” Beth asked, poorly hiding her irritation.

  While they waited for the artist Tristan explained the flower and where the discovery came from. Beth closed her own book in surprise as she closed her eyes. The Prince assumed she was trying to communicate with Draconis.

  “How is it Draconis can talk to you at this distance?” Tulio asked.

  “I’m not sure, we’ve been able to for some time. Is it a skill orcs don’t possess?” Tristan asked.

  “We do, but it’s typically between parent and child only.” He replied.

  “Well he is my grandfather.” The Prince admitted.

  Tulio chuckled. “True, but Beth isn’t.” He observed.

  “Good point. I’m not really sure then, we just…can.” Tristan replied.

  “An excellent skill to possess.” The orc observed.

  The Prince agreed as a female elf entered the library, a roll of parchment under one arm and a collection of paints in a finely crafted canister in her hand. She raised her eyebrows slightly.

  “May I send you an image?” He asked aloud. It was custom among the elves to ask permission before invading someone’s mind. Tristan didn’t mind errant voices in his head though; he assumed this was more due to his upbringing and the force that had been required to rip him from the Nightmare Spell that hit him years ago.

  The elf bowed and nodded her approval. Tristan sent the image of the flower and its immediate surrounding area. She studied the image; he could feel her turning the plant around in his mind, trying to study each of its facets as she learned all she could. The elven artist nodded her head and set the parchment down on the librarians’ desk and began to draw. Before too long she had recreated the image perfectly. Tristan called over the librarian and asked him if he could identify the flower.

  “No. I’m sorry young Prince.” The elf answered sadly. He walked over to the horticulture section of the shelves.

  Tristan thanked the elven artist and walked with the parchment back to the table the three of them were using. He placed it gingerly on the surface of the table and used two books to hold down each end of the roll. The Prince looked up at the pair of them almost pleadingly.

  “This is the plant I need. We need to find out where else it grows.” He said with urgency.

  “Else?” Tulio looked up and asked.

  “Else. Apparently it only grows on the isle of Deus.” Tristan admitted.

  Beth swore, much to Tristan’s astonishment and amusement. “Exactly.” He said with a chuckle.

  For days they searched, elves came in and left. Horologists and healers came and went. The Queen’s advisors and even the orcs most learned came to see if they could name the plant. No one could even guess at its location, let alone another option from Deus.

  Tristan’s desperation began to shine forth again, and he began to steal himself up to walk right into what he knew to be a trap. He wondered if his newly acquired immortality could protect him from being magically torn limb from limb. Dark thoughts threatened to swallow him up again.

  The Queen walked into the room that had been set aside for the Prince as he darkly stuffed his few belongings into his satchel. The only thing he took care with was the artists’ rendition of the flower he needed. Already he had his armor on and his sword belted around his waist. Giani leaned against the doorway and watched him patiently. Tristan knew she was there, but his anger seethed. He slung his quiver over his shoulder, following it with his shield and grabbed his bow.

  “Going somewhere?” The Queen asked rhetorically.

  “I’m leaving.” Tristan replied curtly.

  “With half the mystery solved?” She said lightly. It was more of an observation than a question, and she knew he would understand that.

  “I don’t care. I’ll boil it, crush it, simmer or steam it. I’ll grab enough of them to try everything.” He answered stubbornly.

  “As long as I’ve lived I’ll never understand the human desire to always be on the move.” The Queen admitted.

  “Yes well, we don’t all live hundreds of years. Humans have precious few years and must squeeze all the life we can out of them.” The Prince shot rudely.

  “True, but you have no such issue.” She replied lightly.

  Tristan stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath. He smiled in spite of his anger, looking over at the Queen. “She does.” He said quietly.

  The Prince stalked around the Queen, leaving the guest area of their treetop dwelling. He sent out a request for Bethia to take flight and he leaped off the branch between trees. She easily flew underneath him and he landed lightly in her saddle. He reached down and strapped his legs in as she sped across the clearing over the roves of the orcs. Tulio waved from the front of his simple wood and dried mud hut.

  “I know it, young man.” The Queen muttered sadly as he sped away out of sight.

  ~

  As quietly as they could the three women crawled along in the muck and mud. Each of them sported a wide array of shallow cuts, purple and green bruises and Eurydice even had a long gash along her back from one of the orc females who had attacked her from behind. Four crèches had been raided thus far, and they had yet to encounter a single male. All of the
babies and young were female as were their mothers and protectors.

  It was no small thanks to Lesa that they had survived thus far. Her healing arts and draconic senses had proved vital. They had found a village near the last crèche and now inched their way along in the swampy mud towards the edge of it. Mina had suggested that there might be a map or guide of some sort in the town that could be of some use to them. Tried as they might, they could not teach Mina how to communicate with her mind, so she was forced to follow along as best she could.

  Her whip was something she tried not to dwell on. The ease with which it took life was frightening to the Guisian Princess, and she often felt shame at how well she was fairing with it. The first woman she killed had been strangled to death as Mina watched in horror. Since then she had attempted to use the sharp edges to quickly dispatch her opponents. The young were the most shocking thing.

  In the first crèche they had happened upon a hatching egg. Mina watched in amazement as the youngling fell out of the egg. Its tiny limbs flailed and kicked as it tried to free itself from the sticky membrane of its previous home. The baby took one look at her and let forth a terrifying scream as it crawled towards her, naked hatred in its tiny eyes. It grabbed a hold of her trousers and bit into her shin guards with surprising strength. She kicked her leg out, sending the baby flying into a group of a half-dozen eggs.

  Another pair of them hatched, and after looking up to see her standing there in shocked fear, they crawled towards her baring their little teeth. She whipped towards them with her Dragon’s Fist and severed their heads from their shoulders. Tears came to her eyes and she dropped to her knees feeling guilty and filthy at the same time. She sobbed until Euri came up beside her and gathered her into a comforting embrace.

  Now Mina fought with a detached sort of frenzy. When she killed she did so as quickly as possible, not wishing punishment on her enemies. All in all, she felt like she needed a long hot bath and a quiet glade to meditate in. The Guisian Princess knew she would never be the same again, though she had resolved to pay the price with grim determination.

  They approached the village and she could make out many adult females walking about on their errands. In the middle of the rude huts she saw a large bonfire. Sitting before it was what appeared to be a human in a long red robe. Its hood was up, obscuring any distinguishable features from sight. Slowly they edged their way around the village, each of them counting the villagers so they could plan their assault.

  Euri leaned over and whispered to Mina, “Lesa will create some chaos in the village and we’ll move in to mop up any survivors.”

  “What’s she going to do?” Mina whispered back.

  Even in the darkness Mina could see her shrug in response. Sighing she unclipped her weapon from its holster on her hip and readied herself. Lesa stood up and held her arms forth, the bonfire flared, leaping twenty feet into the air. Many orcs were incinerated in moment, those that weren’t wandered around blindly. The robed human had protected itself with a blue oval orb, which glowed faintly at the edges. It stood up and waved its arms in a high arc, firing a small ball of blue fire into the bushes beside the three women, barely missing them.

  Immediately the three women leaped to their feet and rushed into camp. Euri lay about with her staff, firing lightning out of the end of it from time to time as she used it to beat orcs into the intense bonfire. Mina whipped her Dragon’s Fist out and took the head off a nearby snarling orc woman. She felt the familiar queasiness rise up inside her stomach. Forcing the gorge down, she continued to lash about, taking lives easily with her whip.

  Mina spun around to see the magician in the red robe raising his arms above his head. In front of it she could see Eurydice batting an orc in the head. Fear rose up inside her, but instead of rendering her powerless, it forced her to focus as she carefully aimed her whip at the magician. Her Dragon’s Fist sang through the air and coiled itself around the magician’s arms and cinched them together with an audible gasp from the magician.

  The mage turned and Mina could make out a red mask with two chevrons on its forehead. Immediately its palms began to glow bright blue, without conscious thought Mina yanked back on her whip. With a sickening squelch the magician screamed out as his arms were torn from his shoulders. Mina flicked her wrist and the detached arms disappeared into the darkness. The mage fell to his knees, still yelling and muttering curses as he looked from the ground to her and back again.

  “You bitch!” He screamed at her.

  Eurydice came up behind him and ripped his hood back. She pulled his mask off and cast it into the bonfire. The young Vallius Princess then grabbed a handful of his hair and shouted for Lesa while drawing a dagger from her belt. The young lady held her dagger to his throat as Lesa came around him and knelt down to his eye level.

  “Who are you and why are you here?” Lesa asked.

  The man spit at her in response and Euri pulled back harder, ripping some of his hair loose as he cried out.

  “Let’s try this again.” Lesa warned. “Who are you and why are you here?”

  Mina couldn’t see, but oddly, she could feel her grandmother invading his mind. The mage screwed up his eyes in pain as he ground his teeth. He yelled out in pain as Lesa obviously broke through his resistance and attacked his mind. Even in the darkness Mina could see her grandmother stiffen as she nodded to Eurydice. The young lady rose her hand up and drove it into the middle of the magicians’ chest. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down at the handle sticking out of his chest.

  “Bitch.” He grunted as Euri yanked the blade free and he fell forward. Lesa and Eurydice grabbed a hold of the magician’s robes and tossed him into the still roaring flames. For hours they tossed bodies into the flames, until the acrid stench burned Mina’s nostrils and her gorge rose again, threatening to overwhelm her.

  As the sun slowly rose, the three of them made their camp against the back of a cliff. It had been a lucky find of theirs; it wrapped protectively around them like a mother’s arms. The trees grew high here, forming a concealing canopy of branches and leaves. The only way in or out of the outcropping was the eight foot wide break in the large rocks that surrounded them.

  Euri lit a small fire, more for comfort than any real need, but Mina was thankful for the thought. She knew that the sister of her heart and her grandmother watched her closely, and felt pity for how hard she struggled with the task they had set out upon. Trying to keep her mind off the faces that haunted her dreams, she turned her face towards her grandmother.

  “What did you learn?” She asked bluntly.

  “Well, on the bright side there’s only another half-dozen crèches.” Lesa replied. Her voice was heavy with sarcasm that Mina had never heard before. More than anything else, this is what struck fear into the Guisian Princess. Euri poorly hid her grimace as she saw the suspicious look in Mina’s eyes.

  “What’s the dark side?” Mina asked in mild annoyance.

  “One of the crèches…” Lesa began hesitantly.

  “YES?” Mina interjected, her annoyance quickly turning into outright anger.

  “The crèche is built inside a fort…and there are four mages protecting the orc younglings…who are being magically manipulated into adulthood…and trained to kill.” She told her reluctantly.

  “Great.” Mina scoffed, tossing a small branch she’s been fidgeting with into the fire.

  She hadn’t slept well all night. In truth, she hadn’t slept well in weeks. Nightmares of the faces of those she’d killed hovered in her vision as she tossed and turned, trying to block the images from her mind. When Euri gently shook her awake, Mina woke disheveled and sore. Silently they moved out of the protection of their camp after a light meal to break fast.

  Hours passed slowly as they picked their way through the lowland hills. Twice they had encountered patrols of young orcs. They had been poorly armed and ill equipped to fight the three women. Any hope Mina had of their success was constantly put to the test as the fort beg
an to materialize on the horizon. Two more crèches fell to the women, but no more sign of magic users were present, only women and the young.

  Nights slowly got better as Mina became so tired that the faces could no longer conspire to keep her awake at night. She fell asleep the moment her head hit the ground and she reluctantly rose in the morning. Mina longed for her comfortable bed, and sleeping until the sun rose. She considered to oddity of this simple desire with a chuckle.

  Finally, after almost three weeks they took shelter in an outcropping of trees and setup a cold camp. The fort stood just to the north of the packed dirt road that passed at its base. Mina was unconvinced that they could best the magicians inside with the same ease as before. Lesa was used to her size and the fear it generated being the perfect weapon, but Mina cautioned her that orcs weren’t likely to have the same reaction as men, and certainly magicians would be intimidated even less. After what felt like hours of her insistency her grandmother turned to her.

  “What would you do?” She asked shortly.

  “Make them come to us.” Mina blurted without thought.

  Euri spun around to regard her. “That’s not a bad idea.” She complimented.

  Lesa laughed lightly, looking on her granddaughter with an expression Mina had never seen before. She would have called it pride if she were a vain person.

  “How would you do that my child?” Lesa asked kindly.

  ~

  First Centurion Guru walked along the battlements looking out over the landscape. Of his birthing pool, he was the largest and most intelligent. He had been promoted to centurion quickly, and when the call for reinforcements came down from the Legate he would lead his pool to the front lines. Gueru’s last round of spells at the hands of the human magicians had increased his size ten-fold and his body fairly rippled with young muscle as he gripped his spear tighter.