Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  Below them the large bronze dragon spread her wings and broke out of her dive. But they were on the north side of the Great Wall and that close to the ground was still littered with smoldering ruins of rolling towers. Lesa caught her wing on one of them and it snapped backwards sharply, clearly breaking her wing as it lurched around the tower into an odd angle.

  She spun and fell to the ground, knocking over another half dozen towers as she rolled to a painful stop against the wall itself. Socolis had barely touched down as Euri leapt off his back and ran as quickly as she could towards the injured and bloody golden dragon.

  ~

  It was a ragged band that arrived on the walls of Kumia Palace hours later. Kevin and Tristan watched as each progressive worse wounded warrior dismounted from Draconis and Socolis. Lesa sat clutching her broken arm, waiting in mute pain as their father to their sister slowly lowered Annadora.

  Eurydice put her mother’s arm around her neck and limped forward as the brothers quickly separated themselves from the gathered soldiers. In one fluid motion Kevin gathered up his mother in his arms and motioned one of the soldiers to step forward to help Euri keep the weight off of her broken leg. Dion slowly lowered himself from Draconis’ back, wincing as he was forced to leap the last two feet to the brick courtyard floor.

  Drake stepping forward to gather Lesa into his arms, taking care to keep her broken arm free of contact with his chest, followed a brief flash. Tristan stepped forward and caught Mina lightly as Socolis shifted her unconscious form from his back. Another flash of light and the old white bearded man stepped forward with a slight limp, but otherwise unharmed. The young Prince looked from the mother of his child to the old man, who simply smiled as he put his hand around Tristan’s shoulders.

  “She’s fine lad. Just a little worse for wear.” He said lightly.

  Mina mumbled his name as she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled her head into the grove between his shoulder and chest. Tristan was supremely uncomfortable with the closeness, which was more out of respect for his dead wife than any affection he felt for Mina.

  Upon his arrival at the palace the palace staff had besieged Tristan. They dragged him off to his rooms. He’d been sick to his stomach upon seeing his beautiful wife with a large hole in her stomach, and the rotting corpse of her murderer laying mere feet away. In a fit of rage Tristan had grabbed a hold of the large orcs corpse, and tossed it out of the nearby window. He then fell to his knees and gave into his grief.

  Kevin had finally come to fetch him to the battlements as the first elements of the orc army began to appear at the foot of the palace walls. The pair of them arranged for a funeral pyre to be erected on the tallest tower. Both brothers bade farewell to a woman who’d been important to both of them, Kevin placed the customary wreath on the body as the flames raised high enough to render the body to ashes.

  So it was a bittersweet moment for Tristan as he carried the mother of his son into his palace. Selfishly taking his time, Tristan walked towards the rooms that had been set aside for Mina and their boy. He dismissed the hand-maiden when he walked into the room and lay Mina down carefully on the larger bed in the room. Jonathan hid his concern well, a testament to his bloodlines Tristan mused; having intimate experience with his own moods Tristan knew all too well the inner battle his son waged.

  Slowly he walked over to the bed and placed his hand on Mina’s forehead. Tristan stepped back to watch his son’s reaction. Jonathan’s eyes fluttered slightly beneath his eyelids before he finally released the breath he’d been holding in. A nimbus of light formed around his hands as he sought out his mothers’ injuries and healed them. Tristan couldn’t have hid his amazement even if he’d wanted to. His son’s skills far outstripped his own meager talents and he was still so young.

  It was easy to see how the boy would live up to the prophecy that marked his young life as much as it had his parents. Slowly Mina’s wounds began to sizzle as they closed with a small pop of finality.

  Chapter 16

  Whoever had designed and constructed Kumia Palace had been a genius as far as Tristan was concerned. The palace itself rose on a small mountain that had been carved and molded into a proper human dwelling. Its walls were partially made of the mountain itself, while other parts were made of red brick and mortar. The effect was an impressive looking structure that appeared to be part of the landscape at first glance.

  At the base of the mountain was a uniform ten foot tall wall made of the same stone as the palace itself. The only fault Tristan could find in the layout was that a large force couldn’t be assembled for a counter attack. They had to rely on the catapults mounted on the upper wall and the archers assembled here. Still, it was an impressive and ambitious design.

  A horn sounded and the first elements from the orcish horde ran forward to fall under Terum bow fire. Many of the attackers survived and turtles were employed to bring up scaling ladders. The turtles looked to be constructed from wood and Terum shields, presumably stripped off the dead to wage war. For the first few hours no attacker made their way onto the palace walls.

  Terum soldiers began to tire as the flying reserve companies were forced to stand firm and fight, rather than breach holes in the defenses as was their mandate. Gradually the defenders began to lose sections of the walls to orc invaders. Already Tristan and Kevin had to lead companies of soldiers stripped from the defenses to dig out the sappers and attackers that made their way onto the wall.

  The one boon was simply that all of the magicians seemed to have been defeated or scared off. Conventional warfare, as violent and bloody as it was, at least had its benefits. Even the explosives the orcs used on their defenses were little more than annoyances compared to what a sorcerer could have done in moments.

  Three earth shaking explosions knocked most of the defenders off their feet as the wall shook alarmingly. Tristan fell next to General Frose who swore loudly as he pushed himself back up. Shaking his head to clear it, Tristan looked up over the parapet to see a lone purple dragon gliding away from the wall. The sorcerers’ hands smoldered, sending wisps of smoke trailing behind him as his mighty mystic dragon banked to the left for another pass.

  Ballistae along the walls fired as the purple dragon passed over their heads again, breathing flames down onto the defenders that hadn’t reacted quickly enough to duck behind something. He could hear Kevin shouting for the catapults as the sorcerer and his dragon got a little too close to the walls. Jagged rocks arced over their heads from the walls of the palace above them. The dragon easily looped and swerved to avoid the worst of the caltrops.

  Tristan could hear the mage shout in pain as one of the razor sharp caltrops pierced into his leg, showering the defenders below him with his blood. A shout of triumph went up along the walls as the sorcerer tumbled from his saddle. His injured leg flopped uselessly as he screamed and flailed his arms about vainly.

  Then their world rocked below them again as three rolling monstrosities loaded with explosives blew a hole fifty feet wide in the wall the moment they collided with it. Whatever defenders that hadn’t been blown to bits, shook their heads trying to clear their thoughts and rally to defend the breach. His own blood obscured Tristan’s vision. He reached around blindly, trying to find his sword as rough hands grabbed him by the back of his armor. His hand found the very familiar handle of his sword as he was dragged down a set of stairs and out of harm’s way.

  The Prince shook his head again, trying to shake himself back to consciousness, to no avail. He felt the rough hand grasp his and toss his arm over his rescuers shoulder. Another shoulder came up under his other arm and soon he was being half-dragged, half-carried up flights of stairs at a breakneck pace. Try as he might Tristan couldn’t focus his thoughts. Even Bethia and Draconis’ concerned thoughts were met with muted replies as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

  ~

  Kevin watched in mute astonishment as what resembled rolling houses rushed towards the walls below. Orcs and
Wargs lent their strength to get the houses up to sufficient speed, finally peeling off at the last moment. He watched with some grim satisfaction as a few who couldn’t slow down followed the burning houses right into the wall. Pieces of their bodies flew outwards from the wall as the first of the rolling houses exploded in a shower of blood and rock.

  Defenders were tossed from the walls. The lucky ones smashed headlong into the side of the mountain behind them, dying instantly. Others lost arms and legs or ended up with stone fragments embedded in their chests, struggling to draw breath while they bled to death. The second rolling house cleared the path of all of the rubble created by the first explosion. When the third house rolled through the wall and into the massive gates protected the freight tunnel leading up to the palace courtyard, the explosion rocked the entire palace and sent more than one defender falling backwards off the upper wall.

  Kevin shouted for soldiers to prepare for invasion and most of the catapults were turned towards the inner courtyard as he ran down the nearest tower stairwell. The first orc appeared to his left as he rushed out of the doorway and into the courtyard. Instinct warned him to duck, narrowly avoiding contact as the air was cut just above his head.

  A few stray hairs fell to his feet as he drew a dagger from his boot and thrust upward into the abdomen of the orc attacker. He kicked the dying orc backwards into his comrade as he reached up and unclipped his axe from its sheath. All along the walls, catapults and archers released volley’s over defenders heads. Kevin brought his axe to bare on the next attacker.

  For what felt like hours, Kevin’s forces held the attackers at bay, driving them back to the entrance to the upper keep and bottling them up inside the passageway. The eldest Prince felt exhaustion deep inside. Stepping back from the battle he commanded forces to plug the gap and made his way back up to the parapet overlooking the hordes below.

  His heart sank as he beheld the sea of creatures still at the foot of Kumia Fortress. Orcs howled as they attempted to push those in front of them, their towers completely forgotten as they swarmed into the breach created by the explosions. Loose stones shook as a roar momentarily deafened Kevin. His eyes shot over his shoulder as four dragons leapt off of the highest tower. He couldn’t be sure who was riding them, but he couldn’t see a rider on any except the white dragon…which only served to intensify his anxiety; his baby sister was going back into battle.

  ~

  Tristan awoke sometime later, sore from head to toe. A matron was busying herself carefully removing pieces of his armor. His once proud black and red armor was completely destroyed. Holes still smoked where pieces of burning rock pierced through the protective scales, leaving burned and scarred flesh underneath.

  Even from his prone position, the Prince could feel the rough patches of flesh as his wounds healed themselves. The matron forced apart the pieces of his smoldering breastplate and gasped as she pulled it away. She’d re-opened a few wounds. They were severe enough as they had yet to heal completely. He could feel her calloused hands as she used a wet cloth to wipe away the worst of the blood so she could tend to his cuts and burns.

  He couldn’t move, but Tristan felt ever fiber of his being screaming out in pain as his body struggled to heal itself. The old matron clicked her tongue as she pulled apart his greaves. Every time she pulled away another piece of armor a fresh wave of pain washed over Tristan, threatening to push him back into unconsciousness.

  It felt like an excruciatingly slow process; the exposure and bathing of his wounds. Each new discovery was met with a sharp intake of breath from the matron followed by the clicking of her tongue. As though she wished he was coherent so that she could berate him for his carelessness.

  By force of will he kept himself awake and focused his attention on the wounds he could feel through the waves of pain. The matron admonishing someone sharply followed the familiar creak of a door opening.

  The Prince couldn’t place the feeling, though he felt power gathering around him. A pleasantly warm feeling enveloped his body, though he wounds felt terribly cold. The cold spots began to shrink until the final cold spot just above his left hip disappeared. Slowly Tristan felt strength returning to his limbs as he flexed his fingers experimentally.

  A soft laugh brought him back to his senses. Light invaded his vision as he opened his eyes, and he groaned. Shadows materialized into the shapes of familiar people as Tristan’s eyes began to accustom themselves to the light. Suddenly his situation asserted itself and he shot up in bed, nearly passing out from the effort.

  “Easy!” The soft voice ordered.

  “I need…to get back…” Tristan stammered.

  “The hell you do.” She replied.

  The Prince leaned back on the pillows and looked towards the woman. Mina stood beside his bed, her hands on their son’s shoulders. There was a golden nimbus of light surrounding his little hands which began to fade as the pain fled from Tristan’s body. He looked down at his body. Laying there in only his underclothes, he began to understand what the last few years of war and battles had done to him.

  Years ago when he’d recovered from the Nightmare Spell that had been cast on him, he saw a young smooth unmarked body before him. Now when he looked down the deep scars along his abdomen and chest, not to mention the many old wounds that covered his legs and arms, revolted him. Not for the first time, Tristan felt quite old laying prostate and in pain, being held down by those he loved.

  Jonathan looked exhausted, but Mina was the one that looked worn down to the point of collapse. Tristan motioned for a page to bring over a pair of chairs for them as he sat up on his bed. His head swam from the effort, but the feeling quickly passed as he tried to focus on his surroundings. In moments their son was sound asleep with his chin resting on his chest in his chair. Outside Tristan could hear the sounds of battle, though his body was too exhausted to join in despite his wishes.

  Then reality slapped him in the face like a cold bath. This was his bedroom, the same one his wife had been slain in. Days later he sat in their room, contemplating what life he had yet to live. Assuming of course they survived the assault outside, which was picking up in intensity as it began to sound as though the fighting was just outside in the courtyard.

  “Tristan.” Mina’s soft voice called to him.

  Shaken from his morbid thoughts, he turned his head slowly to regard the mother of his only child. Just as the first moment he’d seen her, he was stricken with her beauty. Her strange moods had always unnerved him, though he found comfort in the look she was gifting him with now.

  “If we all survive this.” She began. Tristan knew all too well to whom she was referring, herself and he, as well as their son. He nodded, urging her on silently. “Well, what I mean to ask is; what’s next…for us?”

  The Prince fought for his voice, which was something of a minor miracle considering the pain that was still shooting through his body and the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him. “For you and I, you mean?” He asked.

  Mina looked up at him, tears gathering in her eyes, as she slowly nodded.

  Tristan sighed, rubbing his sore eyes with his thumb and finger. “I really don’t know.” He dropped his hand and looked at the mother of his only child. “I care for you a great deal and our son is destined to be King. I suppose our first concern is to see that he survives this war. Then we must rebuild and you and I need to see to his education and care.”

  She smiled and chuckled, wiping away her gather tears. “Men.” She sighed as she stood up. Slowly she walked over to his bed and sat down next to him. She grasped his hand in hers and looked into his eyes.

  “Alright. I’ll be more blunt then. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “Oh!” Tristan exclaimed. “I didn’t realize I needed to say that. I thought you knew.”

  “Know what?” She asked in mild surprise.

  He pushed himself upright and pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and
all the sounds of battle outside faded away.

  “Oh.” She said in mock astonishment. Mina reached behind Tristan’s head and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

  An explosion rocked the castle walls. Tristan had to hold tight to keep Mina from falling out of the bed as dust and tiny rock fragments fell from the ceiling. He looked towards his window as a column of fire erupted along the walls.

  “That was some kiss.” Mina said in shock.

  Tristan laughed in spite of the situation as he looked back towards her. “Stay here with Jonathan. Don’t come out no matter what you hear. Don’t open the door for anyone save myself.” He kissed her deeply. “Protect our son.” He commanded as he reached for his sword belt and ran from the room, panic giving him strength.

  ~

  Kevin Vallious watched in shock as the final barricades to the freight tunnel were blasted clear. Orcs swarmed through the opening and soon his men were engaged in a vicious battle. He reached up and unclipped his axe again.

  “Push them back and plug that breach!” He shouted before running forward to engage the first orc he could see.

  Being the Lord of a border town had accustomed Kevin to facing all manner of strange creatures. Bugbears, orcs, giants, trolls, and many others had fallen before his armies, and at his own hand. These orcs were something else all together. Even the smallest one was as large as Kevin, and they swung with the power of a mules kick in the groin. Every parry sent waves of shock up his arms and he could feel the muscles in his shoulders knotting up from the effort.