Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  Regret was much easier to deal with, but the pain it caused ate away at her day after day. Perhaps she could talk grandmother into flying her and Jonathan to Kumia so that he could visit with his father. It wasn’t fair to make him always seek her out, although it was the last power she held over him and so she jealously guarded it.

  The truth was that despite their meeting, no man had moved her as Tristan did. For a year she told herself that it was the power of the spell that had tainted their union. When the Prince came to visit his son, her feelings again came to the surface and she knew that no matter how long she lived, or how many suitors would come to court, no one would look on her and he did.

  “Can’t sleep?” Her mother called from the garden.

  Mina was shaken from her internal conflict as her mother walked around one of the low palms that gave the Princess her privacy. The Rajina wore a simple long blue robe of silk, her hair had been pulled up into a bun and all of her makeup had yet to be applied. While she didn’t show her age as others did, without her makeup and hair done she looked ancient to the young woman.

  Mina shook her head. “And you?” She replied quietly.

  Her mother shook her head, offering her hand to Mina. The Princess walked around the banister and took her mother’s hand as they walked deeper into the gardens surrounding Delhi palace. Quietly they enjoyed their walk. Its gardens were tended daily to keep the wild flowers and beautiful pedals free of disease and infestations. The smells here were lost on Mina before her recent quest, and now she reveled in the perfume of the budding flowers around her. She took joy from the simple blossoming of the flowers in the faint morning light. They sat together on a stone bench surrounded by lovely flowers and trees, her mother grasped her hand with surprising strength.

  “What’s troubling you mother?” Mina asked quietly.

  “You are, my dear.” The Rajina answered her.

  Mina turned, looking into her mother’s tear brimmed eyes. “Why?” She asked.

  A single tear broke free and rolled down the older woman’s face. She reached up and brushed the hair out of her daughters face, tucking it carefully behind her ear. “You try so hard and yet keep your heart locked up tight.” She said calmly. “Why?” The Rajina choked out finally.

  The Princess looked up at her mother, tears gathering in her own eyes as she fought to keep them from falling. “No man stirs my soul as he does.”

  “Perhaps I was wrong then.” Her mother admitted; wiping away her daughters tears.

  Chapter 13

  Tristan dozed in one of the plush chairs while Henjis and Stella reunited. He clutched the vial of antidote in his right hand, trying not to grasp it too tightly as he dreamed of his wife. So much had been ignored while he quested for her cure, but he felt savage joy in that time spent. He could have dismissed the months as a side quest, meeting dwarves, elves and a curiously sane orc, but he didn’t. Tristan knew the quest had been one of selfish desire to see his bride safe and unharmed.

  Images flashed in his mind’s eye. Children and grandchildren were his reminders of a life that could possibly resemble normality, if only he could save his wife. Tristan wondered how long Draconis’ magic could keep her alive, if time had little meaning or if he was already too late. Doubt, as always, threatened to rise up and overwhelm him. If he let his defenses down for but a moment his doubts would cripple him, rendering even his immortality useless. The Prince felt tired, so very tired.

  He hadn’t slept properly in so long that he couldn’t remember what it was like to have a peaceful sleep. His dreams were troubling visions of battles and confrontations that threatened not only his life, but the lives of everyone he loved. He would rest for what felt like fleeting moments, only to awaken in a cold sweat.

  “Tristan?” Stella asked uncertainly.

  The Princes eyes snapped open as he regarded the old woman. “What is it?”

  She looked uncomfortably at Ben before answering. “You were yelling, boy.” She said quietly.

  He must have dozed off again, and then interrupted their reunion with his non-sense. Feeling instantly guilty he averted his eyes from their penetrating stares. “Sorry.”

  Ben reached out his hand uncertainly and patted Tristan’s’ arm. “S’alright lad. Are you ready?” He asked.

  “Ready?” Tristan asked, still disoriented.

  “It’ll be slow going. I’m afraid I’m not as young as I once was.” Ben admitted with a chuckle as he began to glow and change back into the large black dragon Henjis.

  “How do I?” Stella asked in surprise. Clearly she was still dealing with the reality that the man she loved wasn’t a man at all.

  Tristan patiently taught her which scales to grab and where to place her feet, she was a quick leaner and scampered up onto Henjis’ back with surprising agility. In no time they flew out of the cave and into the pre-dawn gloom. The Prince had no concept of time in the cave; he could have sworn it was closer to noon hour. Mentally shrugging, he showed Stella how to lean closer to Henjis’ neck to keep warm in the cool morning.

  A strange sensation crawled through Tristan, something close to panic rose up inside him and he couldn’t figure out why. He turned his head to the north-west and saw nothing but ocean, to the south-east was the same, in front of them loomed the coast of Guis and Vallius and behind them the rocky cliffs of Deus faded away. Then something alien caught his eye, soaring over the cliffs and approaching with incredible speed came the largest dragon Tristan had ever seen.

  Um, Henjis? Tristan sent.

  I feel him. It’s a dragon of spell craft. The black dragon replied dismissively. The Prince felt the great black dragon’s response though as he picked up speed and gained altitude.

  Why are we climbing? Tristan asked.

  If I drop you I’ll have plenty of time to catch you. Henjis answered seriously.

  Tristan would have laughed, but somehow the old black dragon’s tone was the most serious he’d ever heard any dragon use. The Prince wrapped his arms around the old sorceress and grabbed hold of a scale with each hand. He had to shout to tell her about the dragon. From the expression on her face and the color that had drained from it, the mystical dragon was the largest she’d ever seen as well. Faster and faster the elder black dragon climbed until they were just under gathering storm clouds. The deep purple of the clouds almost obscured the magical dragon, and yet it seemed to still be gaining speed and closing the distance between it and Henjis.

  The wind screamed past their ears, pulling the leather tie out of Tristan’s hair as the cool air stung his eyes and lungs. Breaths were shallow and painful, his joints and arms ached with the strain of holding them on the mighty dragons back. They were quickly approaching the coast and Tristan could feel the pressure of Bethia’s thoughts touch his own. Somehow it made him feel safer for her presence. Henjis banked into a steep dive as rain began to fall.

  Tristan’s eyes shot open as Stella’s weight disappeared from in front of him. The old woman was still there, a nimbus of golden light danced around her and it appeared to be holding her fast to the back of the black dragon. As though it had been the plan all along, Tristan let go of the scales keeping him on the back of Henjis.

  At inhuman speed he slid down the great black dragons back reached the tail. Henjis flexed , tossing Tristan into the air and leaving him feeling as though he was stuck in the air momentarily. Then the Prince began to fall in earnest as he instinctively spread his arms and legs out to slow his fall as much as possible.

  Like a ballet dancer, Bethia glid in underneath him and he grasped a hold of the horn of his saddle. He pulled himself down into the saddle and urged her into pursuit after the purple dragon. Henjis spread his wings wide, stopping himself almost instantly. Tristan could see Stella casting spells from his back as he turned and engaged the mystic dragon.

  We must help them! Tristan urged Bethia.

  How? My fire would engulf them and you have only your blades. She asked him, feeling the same desir
e as he but knowing that they could do nothing but harm.

  Think you could catch me again? He asked.

  Of course. Bethia replied evenly.

  Throw me. Tristan commanded her as he began slowly sliding down her back.

  That’s crazy! She accused.

  Probably why it’ll work. He laughed back at her.

  Bethia snorted black smoke in reply as she picked up speed. Tristan held onto the end of her tail with all of his strength as she twisted and turned to the left, flinging him off her tail towards the mystical dragon that was locked in battle with Henjis and Stella. At first Tristan’s arms and legs flailed uselessly as he tried desperately to direct his body towards the battle. Eventually he regained some control over his fall and drew his sword and dagger.

  Henjis twisted slightly, bringing he and his wife between Tristan and the purple dragon. The Prince cursed as he readjusted his descent and landed at a run on the mighty black dragon’s back. Tristan ran the length of the elder dragon, leaping over the sorceress and jumped off Henjis’ neck. He brought his blades up as he let forth all the frustration and anger from the better part of the last year into an animalistic scream.

  The red robed sorcerer who rode the back of the mystic dragon looked up as Tristan brought his sword and dagger up to their opposite shoulders. Using all the strength he could muster he brought both blades forward and severed the magicians head from his shoulders. The sorcerer’s mask and hood flew away as his head toppled off a body still being held by the mystical purple dragon. As Tristan cleared the dragon an explosion rang in his ears, blasting him forward, flipping end over end.

  Eventually the Prince righted himself and landed on a gliding Bethia beneath him. Tristan turned in his saddle to see what transpired only to see a smoldering and scared Henjis falling from the sky. Smoke trailed off the elder dragon as he tumbled through the air, above him a smaller body also smoldered as it fell. He tried to reach out and touch the old dragon’s mind, only to find darkness as profound as any he’d experienced before.

  He’s gone. Bethia answered his thoughts.

  I know. I just hoped…

  They fought for what they believed in. No one could have done more. She observed.

  I think it’s time to go home. Tristan said somberly.

  Bethia beat her wings slowly, hovering as the pair of them watched the mighty black dragon fall. Tristan smirked in spite of himself, remembering the last time the black dragon had saved him and then an intense sadness gripped him as he realized this was the last time the elder would come to his rescue. A distant splash, followed by a smaller one marked the end of his musings as the large red dragon turned and set off for Kumia palace.

  A short time Lesariu and Socolis joined later Bethia and Tristan. The Prince could feel their grief at the passing of Henjis, though they refused to comment on it beyond ‘it was his time’. Tristan couldn’t help but feel that it was a hallow sentiment, but he kept his comments to himself. Death had never been something that he dealt with well at the best of times. The three dragons flew along the updrafts and remembered their fallen brother in silence.

  Bethia had no sooner touched down on the highest tower in Kumia palace when Tristan leaped from her back and set off running to his wife’s side. Servants quickly overcame their surprise at seeing their ruler running like a madman and jumped aside, to get out of his way. He skidded into turns in the hallways and slid to a halt outside of his bedroom.

  The door was open and Euri sat reading a scroll to his wife. Tristan glanced at the guard standing in the hallway and then walked into the room quietly. His sister looked up from her scroll and smiled warmly at her older brother. Despite his need to see his wife awake and well he couldn’t help but ask;

  “When did you get here?”

  Euri smiled slightly. “Last night. Your son missed you so I brought he and Mina along for a visit. I thought you could use family after the last few months you’ve had.”

  For so long Tristan fought to control his emotions, to focus on finding his wife a cure. He locked them all away and dealt with everything inside, keeping everyone at a distance. The last vestiges of his strength fell away from him, leaving him as weak as when he first woke from the Nightmare Spell. Tristan slowly walked forward as the sting of tears began to run down his face. Eurydice rushed forward and embraced her older brother. He could barely choke out his thanks as she guided him to the comfortable chair at his wife’s bedside.

  Gently she took the vial of antidote from him and walked around the other side of the bed. She put her arm behind Maggie’s head and carefully lifted her head to the brim of the vial. Slowly she tilted back the vial until all of its contents ran down his wife’s throat. Euri closed her eyes briefly and muttered something in draconic.

  A blanket of light blue light winked out of existence as Maggie’s eyes opened. She drew a long shuttering breath and turned her head towards Tristan. Her beautiful smile was burned into his mind before she promptly passed out. He looked up at Eurydice in alarm as his little sister held her hand over his wife’s head.

  “She’s fine.” Euri announced. “She sleeps.”

  Tristan leaned back in the chair, burying his face in his hands as he sighed in relief. His shoulders sagged as he finally relaxed after months of intense searching and odd sort of giddiness gripped him. The Prince found himself laughing while tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Euri came back around the bed and stood behind his chair, running her little hands through his hair and offering comforting words. After a few minutes he finally regained control of his emotions. Sensing his change in mood Euri playfully came around the chair and leaped onto his lap.

  “Oof.” Tristan exclaimed. “You’re not a little girl anymore you know.”

  “Oh nice!” She shot back hugging him tightly around the neck.

  “Ahem.” Called a deep voice from the doorway. “I assume she’s going to recover?” Kevin asked with a smile.

  “Kevin!” Euri yelled, leaping off Tristan’s lap and running across the room. She jumped into a fierce hug around her eldest brother’s enormous neck.

  Tristan rose and walked towards the door, motioning for everyone to clear out into the hall. Kevin and Euri smiled as the three of them set off down the hall towards the main dining hall, suddenly Tristan was ravenous.

  ~

  His mission was simple. Sneak into the palace, assassinate the dragon spawns wife and then anyone else he happened upon. It was a suicide mission but the orc captain was honored to have been chosen by the Sorcerer King and his Legate to undertake it. Should he succeed it would create the opening the Legate needed to breach the Great Wall. The captain’s name would be recorded and when he left this world to join the Immortal Horde he would be granted many gifts.

  The captain didn’t like to think of the other price he paid, though whenever he looked into his gleaming sword he could clearly see the pale pink face, brown hair, and ugly blue eyes. Thanks to the sorcerer his proud tusks were gone, the powerful jaw and black clawed hands. His bulging muscles, much like the dragon spawns brother, had been altered to appear small, pink and decidedly…weak. The sorcerer had explained though, it was an illusion. He still possessed his strength and speed…despite this ugly shell.

  The three siblings walked past, each holding onto one another in a disgusting display of affection. It was a weak human infliction where they felt the need to touch one another. His own childhood had been spent eating raw meat, training in combat and undergoing dangerous magical transformations to accelerate his growth both in mind and body. What marked him as a commander was his ability to strike fear and awe into his crèche-mates.

  He was easily the largest orc from his crèche and one of the few who survived the dangerous growth acceleration. Such was the price for service to the One God. He Who Was Above All would ensure that his sacrifice earned him a place in the inner legion of the Immortal Horde. But such thoughts distracted him from his mission. Grumbling to himself he turned and walked into th
e Prince and Princess of Terum’s bed chamber.

  Baring the door behind him he carefully looked around the room to ensure that he was alone. The Captain strode over to the open windows and slammed them shut, lest the guards in the courtyard hear their mistress’s screams momentarily. Drawing the storm windows shut he locked them together with a metal latch, plunging the room into total darkness.

  He walked over to the bed and yanked the sheets back with no hint of kindness or gentility. The woman’s gown stuck to her sweat drenched flesh, showing her disgusting human body in perfect relief against the moist fabric. A weaker orc might have succumb to his desires, and though she was pink and weak, he had always heard the other orcs joking that the human females provided good sport as they screamed and clawed at their orc rapists.

  Instead the Captain grumbled again and slowly drew his dagger. It was as alien to him as the body he appeared to possess. Straight and well oiled, it refracted the little sunlight still able to pour into the room through the gaps in the storm shutters. He kicked the chair next to her bed out of the way, causing it to skid along the floor and shatter as it collided with the wardrobe in the corner.

  The weak pink girl stirred slightly, groaning in her weak pathetic human way. Her eyes fluttered open and she raised her hands to rub the sand out of them. The Captain experienced a moment of hesitation, for the sand in the eyes as one sleeps is something he too rubbed when first waking from his rest. So different, and yet there were similarities. All doubt fled from his mind as she looked up see a tall thin man with long hair and a beard standing in the shadows, and called out to him.