Draconis' Bane

by David Temrick

“Out with it!” The woman impatiently ordered.

  “Master Paul reports that Harold the Bard hasn’t been seen in days. One of his contacts admits that he was last seen talking to the eldest dragon-spawn.” He admitted.

  “Two of our agents have gone missing in that dragon-kin marrying bastards realm and you’re just telling me about it now!?” She shouted.

  A bright ball of fire erupted from the candle and turned bright purple as it hurled through the hall. It illuminated large marble pillars as it sought the little man who had run away as soon as his last words had left his mouth. As the doors at the end of the hall burst open the purple ball of flame caught up to the little man engulfing him in front of the crowd of men and women gathered at the bottom of the stairs leading from the hall.

  The robed woman appeared at the doorway as the last cinders of the little man blew away on the morning breeze.

  “Such is the price of failure!” She bellowed as the gathered men and women ran for their lives.

  Adventure

  Everywhere Tristan looked his senses were overwhelmed with colors and shapes that he’d never seen before. Dry words on paper couldn’t communicate the beauty of the ancient Guisian cities. Their colorful spires rose up into the clouds; the walls surrounding their cities seemed less war-like for all the murals painted across them.

  Each vast metropolis sprawled all over the countryside and made it impossible to pass around without adding days to their journey. Tristan had been very surprised to see that elephants were used to move large pieces of stone and timber while men followed behind moving circular logs from the back to the front.

  When he asked about this from a local city guide, the man pointed out that the sheer size of the stones and wood would carve up their countryside far too much, so the workers used logs to make the journey faster and less damaging. Robertson commented that the elephants wouldn’t die from exhaustion either, which amused the guide. Each progressively larger city they approached was more impressive than the last. They were now on the last road to Delhi and Tristan’s anticipation was reaching a fever pitch.

  His head snapped back as a burning sensation spread along his left cheek. In seconds Robertson barked an order and a circular formation rose up around the Prince. Another crossbow bolt narrowly missed Tristan who had been pulled from the saddle by the old Captain. Several shields appeared over his head as Robertson unceremoniously dragged him behind a large rock.

  His guards dismounted in unison as another bolt sped overhead. Vallius soldiers returned fire with their short bows at a nearby tree. A small body tumbled out of the tree, one arrow protruding from his shoulder and another from his hip. Sounds of shouting echoed through the valley as a swarm of at least fifty armed men and women crested a nearby hill and charged their position.

  Robertson shouted orders over the battle cries of the attacking forces. The guards lined up to receive the attack as the assassins slammed into a wall of hardened warriors. The battle was joined in earnest, each of the Vallius soldiers squaring off against easily twice their number. The Knight-Captain kept pushing Tristan backwards, trying to keep him away from the fight. One of the attackers leapt over his guards and ran towards them.

  The Captain engaged the man, raising his blade to take the first strike high before slamming his fist into his face. Another man and woman made their way through the line and came rushing towards Tristan. They brandished their long curved falchions as they bore down on the young Prince who drew his sword and dagger and prepared for them. Tristan crouched low as the man swung high and blocked a slash from the woman. His foot shot out and caught her in the stomach forcing her back as that male assassin swung wildly at Tristan’s neck.

  The Prince caught the blade with his dagger, forced it down and head butted the man in the nose. Not wasting any time, Tristan spun around to find the woman ready to engage him properly. He feigned forward and her blade lashed out. He caught the blade on his sword, spun around her and drove his dagger down to the hilt through the middle of her surprisingly soft back.

  The female assassin coughed up blood as she dropped to her knees wrenching the dagger out of Tristan’s hand. The male assassin leapt over her fallen body and brought his sword crashing down on Tristan who barely got his blade up in time to parry it. The man followed through with a painful punch to the side of Tristan’s face causing both men to land hard on the ground.

  Tristan rolled out of the way as the male assassin’s blade hit the ground, barely missing him. The wind was knocked out of him as the assassin kicked him in the stomach and sent him reeling. Tristan rolled again and jumped to his feet in time to block and parry a furious series of lunges and slashes. He was being forced back into a group of trees, but he was concentrating so hard on defending himself he couldn’t stop the backwards momentum.

  The assassin slashed wildly attempting to decapitate Tristan, who ducked under the strike and drove his sword up under his rib cage and into his heart. Shocked, the assassin looked down at Tristan. The attacker’s eyes rolled up into his head as he fell backwards pulling Tristan’s sword along with him.

  The Prince heard another crossbow fire as a bolt hit him in the shoulder, spinning him around. The force of the blow threw him backwards where he hit his head on a rock at the foot of a tree. As Tristan’s vision began to collapse was another female assassin pulling a blade from her belt and bearing down on him like a lioness closing in on her prey. Then the world went dark.

  ~

  “How long has he been like this?” Asked a familiar voice.

  “Only a couple hours.” Replied a strange female voice. “He has a cut on the back of his head and a small wound just inside his shoulder, but otherwise he is unharmed.”

  “Has he got a concussion?”

  “No.” Tristan croaked. “He’s just milking it for all it’s worth.” He chuckled.

  Tristan slowly opened his eyes to find the face of his Knight-Captain looming over his; he made a show of shutting his eyes tightly immediately.

  “Urgh. That’s not a face I want to wake up to again…” He complained.

  “You insolent pup! If your head wasn’t already cracked open I’d do it for you.” The Captain shot back.

  The young Prince opened his eyes again to find a beautiful young woman standing over him checking the dressings on his chest.

  “Now that’s much better.” He commented as a few men laughed nearby.

  He groaned theatrically as he sat up, his head swimming a little and looked around the room. He noticed there were only ten men in the room with them and his heart sank. More lives lost, for what? A boy? What a waste Tristan thought darkly. He reached up and pulled his hair out of the irritating bun it had been tied in, presumably to stitch up the back of his head.

  “Where are we Captain?” he asked.

  “In Delhi my Lord, a patrol was running their usual route when they heard the commotion we were making. They made quick work of the rest of those bastards” He explained. “…er beggin’ your pardon lass.” He added quickly.

  She waved off the apology as unnecessary and left the room. Tristan stood as all eyes were on him and moved towards a window looking out on the largest city he’d ever seen. Colors ran riot everywhere, twisting spires rose out from various places around the vista. In front of the palace were dozens of ponds, some teaming with life, others kept clean by some unknown method to reveal the mosaic of tiles on the bottom glowing in the sunlight.

  “What happened?” Tristan asked.

  “A few of those murderous bastards got past the line, my Lord.” Began Robertson.

  “You killed a man and woman, but a second woman, some crossbow firing whore, caught you in the shoulder.” He explained.

  “By the time those Delhian horsemen showed up and drove off the rest of them you’d been hit.” Volunteered Corporal Kincade.

  “Aye. We rushed over and could feel a heartbeat. So we made all haste for the city. It was something of a shock to find out you were armored my Lord.
” He accused.

  Tristan’s hand felt the dressing on his shoulder; applying pressure he felt a wave of pain course through him. “Didn’t seem to stop the bolt though.” He commented.

  “Bah!” Robertson dismissed. “It took the surgeon more time to get all the fuzz from your under-tunic out of the wound than it did to treat it and stitch it up.”

  “…and the women do love a man with scars.” Tristan laughed.

  “Works wonders for me, my Lord.” Joked Kincade.

  With the mood in the room noticeably lighter, Tristan walked over to what was left of his breastplate. He could put his finger into the puncture hole where the bolt had penetrated. All things considered he was very lucky to still be alive, though at the moment he didn’t feel particularly lucky at all.

  A knock at the door interrupted his musing. The beautiful woman came back into the room, accompanied by two men. The first of which introduced himself as the weapon smith. He returned to Tristan his sword and dagger commending him on their excellent craftsmanship.

  The second man stepped forward as Tristan sheathed both weapons and hung them from the bed post. “Prince Tristan, a joy to see you up and about. I am Akbar, chief aide to His Honor and Imperial Highness, the most holy Raj Julpinu.” He announced, bowing slightly.

  The man was dressed head to toe in a lurid orange robe with a purple sash over his right shoulder. Tristan looked over to see that his travel pack had been brought in with him, momentarily concerned that he would have to attire himself in such a fashion here. He returned his gaze to Akbar, offering him a short bow.

  “Would His Highness like to dine with The Raj this evening, or was today’s excitement too draining?” Akbar asked politely.

  “It would honor me to dine with the Raj tonight.” Tristan replied diplomatically.

  “I will make the arrangements sir. Someone will fetch you when it is time.” He explained. “Please rest yourself and if you feel the need for some fresh air feel free to wander the palace gardens. Please remain inside the palace walls though.” Akbar instructed, bowing out of the room.

  “I’ll see that the men are billeted, Your Highness.” Robertson offered from his side.

  “Don’t bother; this apartment is big enough for all of us.” Tristan began. “Besides, an attack that close to their capital makes me anxious. I would rather have our men close at hand.”

  “The men will enjoy that.” The Captain replied sarcastically.

  “If that was a nurse, I’m sure they will.” Tristan replied laughing. He turned to the remaining members of his guard.

  “Show a little decorum you barracks’ rats; we’re on a diplomatic mission after all.” He spoke loudly. “If you must tumble a serving girl, at least try and be quiet about it, eh?” Tristan added laughing.

  The mood lightened noticeably in the room again as the men walked into a neighboring room loaded with divans, cushions and day beds. They began joking around with one another as they dug out their dress uniforms from their travel packs, and stowed their tabards. Tristan walked around the apartment to find that he was in the bedroom, which was enormous.

  The ceiling was easily twenty feet high; the stone-like material was brightly painted with a mosaic of scenes. The bed frame was curved with short little spires rising from the four corners, the mattress was made of some incredibly light feather and there was an excessive amount of pillows on it.

  He walked over to another room which turned out to be a washroom with a similar design to Vallius ones, only this one was made primarily of porcelain and marble. Tristan filled up the tub with hot water and washed off week’s worth of grime, careful to avoid the patched hole in his shoulder. When he was finished he pulled out a pair of dark grey trousers and a bright blue long sleeved shirt made of silk. It seemed more humid here than it was at home and he was anxious for comfort as he foresaw the meeting with the Raj would go late into the night.

  A few hours later, half-dozing in the warmth of the afternoon, a knock came at the door. A quiet young man entered when bidden and offered escort to the Hall of Feasts as he called it. Exchanging amused smiles with a few of his soldiers, who had all changed into their dress uniforms, they followed the young man through the palace.

  The hallways were very wide and everywhere Tristan looked his saw marble where there would have been wood. The floors, walls and ceilings seemed to be made of the same polished stone, although the floor was of a deeper color, and mostly tiled. They passed many large halls, all teaming with people and dancers spinning in a flurry of color. After what felt like a walk through Durshire they came to an immense door made of shinning treated wood.

  The servants on either side of the door effortlessly opened them to admit Tristan and his guards. The Prince made a note to himself to ask about their design. Looking around he noticed the interior of this room overlooked an enormous garden. There were no windows to speak of at eye level, but all of the openings in the walls admitted the intoxicated fragrance of flowers from the garden which surrounded the room outside. Low circular tables were scattered haphazardly around the room with plush cushions piled around them.

  Tristan was directed to the large centermost table where a large man wearing an impossible amount of jewelry sat. Next to him was a beautiful woman of middle years and to her left was a gorgeous young woman. Tristan couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from her. She had straight dark brown hair that must surely have touched the cushion she was sitting on. Her eyes were a deep brown, and she wore a deep green robe which served to emphasize her curves rather than hide them.

  The Prince fought to pay attention to Akbar who appeared at his elbow. “Your Highness, may I present His Most Imperial Highness; Raj Julpinu.” He introduced.

  Tristan bowed deeply saying; “You honor me with an invitation to share your table.”

  “It is you who honor me for accepting my invitation my young friend.” The Raj replied. “Please. Sit with us, the dancing is about to begin.” He indicated the cushion to his right.

  The Prince sat in the indicated seat as a hypnotic drum beat began. Three female dancers shimmied in from the far right of the room through a gauze curtain. They wore loose fitting skirts that extended down to their ankles and tight tops revealing their flat stomachs. Two of them had long jewelry hanging from their navels and one had a colorful drawing painted on her stomach of what appeared to be a roaring lions head.

  They danced and swayed around the room as the Raj introduced the two women to the young Duke. “Prince Tristan, allow me to introduce my wife, Peria.” He indicated the attractive middle-aged woman to whom Tristan nodded, accepting her offered hand and pecking the back of it.

  “This lovely girl is my daughter, Mina.” He indicated the gorgeous girl to his wife’s left. Tristan nodded again; the girl turned her head from the dancers and smiled warmly at the young Prince. Tristans’ stomach flipped as he smiled back at her, trying his best to appear un-phased.

  Their attention returned to the dancers, who now were using small metal disks on their finger-tips to add their music to the hypnotic drum beat. However, Tristan’s attention was transfixed on Mina. He studied every curve of her face, completely enthralled by the young lady. For hours the dancers came and went, replaced by taller darker skinned ones, then by short stout ones. Food came, as well as wine. Tristan couldn’t recall much of what he ate or drank.

  The Raj and he spoke of little things between intricate dances; the harvest, the weather and odd as it sounded, both men greatly admired the others kingdom. It was quite easy to enjoy time with the Raj; his wife was kind and attentive to both Tristan and her husband. Their daughter was flirtatious towards the young Prince and he found his voice nearly failed him on many occasions throughout the night.

  After another interesting performance he had completely failed to watch while enraptured with the Raj’s daughter, she turned to him.

  “Does his Highness wish to take a walk with me in the gardens?” She asked.

  Forcing hi
mself to breathe, he replied as evenly as he could.

  “If it would please you m’lady, I would be honored.”

  He rose from his cushions and walked over to Mina’s offered hand and helped her to her feet. The touch of her hand was electric and Tristan’s stomach flipped again at the touch of her soft hand on his. She encircled his offered arm in her own; the heat from her radiated through his sleeve and made his heart race.

  Mina directed him towards a large archway off to the left. As soon as they left the room Mina drew uncomfortably close and Tristan found it infinitely difficult to keep his thoughts pure. The pair walked towards a large gazebo with plush couches lining the edges. Between the fragrances emanating from the garden, and Mina’s perfume, Tristan was having a very difficult time keeping his thoughts clear and focused.

  “Do you have gardens such as these in your home?” She purred, moving closer and placing her hand on his lap.

  “None this grand Your Highness.” He barely choked out.

  “You’re very handsome Tristan.” She said as she slid herself under his arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen Mina.” He blurted.

  “You’re very kind…” She whispered as she began playing with his hair.

  A few hours later Tristan was sprawled out on the enormous bed in his apartment. His heart was still racing and he was sticking to the silken bedspread, despite the cool night. Mina slept next to him, her breathing even and deep. He untangled himself slowly from the bed covers, working his way to the edge of the bed. He tumbled out of the bed landing hard on the floor beside it, pulling the sheets with him.

  “Tristan?” Mina asked sleepily.

  The Prince cursed himself.

  “Sorry.” He muttered.

  He poked his head up over the bed to find Mina looking straight at him, smiling playfully. “Where are you off to?” She asked with a soft purr to her voice.