Draconis' Bane

by David Temrick

  “Up until Lesariu and Socolis took off with you three, yes.” The King shot back through narrowed eyes.

  “You gave your mother quite a shock by the way.” He accused.

  Tristan felt properly ashamed, he was trying to stop something horrible and alienated one of the people he was trying to save.

  “Sorry.” Tristan muttered under his breath.

  “It’s alright; there are things I keep from your mother as well.” The King explained.

  “I don’t think she truly understands the anti-draconic sentiment in our neighboring countries.” He concluded.

  “Listen. We both know the prophecy wasn’t about me now.” Tristan began.

  “I have agents with Draconis’ Bane as well, though a few of them have died recently.” Dion replied. “The leader of The Bane knows who the prophecy refers to now.”

  “Then I’m out of options. I have to finish what was started.” Tristan concluded.

  Dion looked hard at his son. Since the attack he’d been growing at an alarming rate, both physically and in maturity. He didn’t doubt his sons drive to complete the task he’d adopted. He didn’t doubt his skills either. Instead, the King worried that the mountain of a task would cost the boy his life. Since he’d recovered from the Nightmare Spell, Dion had tried to put him with as many able, experienced leaders as he could and his son had proven himself strong and capable.

  The King couldn’t express how proud he was in the boy, before the spell had fractured his sons’ mind he’d all but given up giving him any kind of responsibility. Now he felt confident that he could give the lad any task and he would set to it with a dogged determination that would put most clerics to shame. It was the end result of this task Dion feared and the effect it would have on the boy’s mother.

  The attack on Tristan had nearly destroyed her, losing her son and quite possibly her daughter if Eurydice had set her mind to accompanying Tristan and William on their quest. All these things weighed heavily on Dions’ mind as he regarded his grown son. Slowly, he shook his head.

  “Yes, I know.” The King admitted finally. “Socolis will go with you, but Lesariu is still healing.”

  “How’s her arm?” Tristan asked.

  “Not well. I think that bitch coated her arrows in some sort of poison.” The King explained. “It finally stopped bleeding, but it’s not healing over. She can’t even transform back into a dragon.” The King sighed. “Dragon Magic being in the state it is, I’m not sure anything will heal the wound.”

  Dion waited as his words hit Tristan like a hammer, another life at his feet. The King considered the price his son already paid, all for a prophecy that wasn’t even about him.

  “What else do you know?” Tristan asked.

  The King sighed as he began to unravel the mystery that had cost so many their lives.

  “Dragon Magic hasn’t faded naturally.” He began. Tristan opened his mouth to interrupt but the King waved him off.

  “Let me finish.” He said.

  “Dragon Magic hasn’t faded. Somehow the leader of The Bane figured out a way to siphon Dragon Magic into an object.” The King began. “It took a long time because there are so many of them scattered around the world. The leader had that Slayer, Amanda Eberts, as well as spies who located dragon nests and a mercenary leader who would assemble armies to trap the dragons and kill them.” The King explained in detail.

  “As they progressed, it became easier to funnel the power into this object. We don’t know what the object is though. Your grandfather and I think it’s something alive, like a crystal or a person, though he admits that it would be too much for a person or even a dragon to absorb, so it’s probably a gem of some kind.” The King concluded.

  “About twenty years ago, just before you were born, things came to a head. Draconis had trouble diverting a storm that would have destroyed this city. Instead we had to rebuild the entire northern quarter when a fifty foot wave wiped out the docks and everything for the first dozen blocks.” He explained.

  Tristan sat forward, enraptured by the history of that which had come to pass to bring him to this point.

  “Ten years ago a tornado completely destroyed Fenhold. You would have passed the rubble left of the town on your way to Durshire. It was leveled and our people believe it to be haunted by several less than savory spirits.” The King admitted.

  “Your grandfather couldn’t turn away the tornado and it was then that he realized that most of his magic had vanished. He left us, stopping in from time to time in mortal form to visit, but now he hides. Between the mercenary companies, spies and slayers he couldn’t trust his fate to humans any longer. It broke your mothers’ heart.” He finished.

  “Ok, wait. Where the hell did The Bane come from?” Tristan asked.

  “No one knows. One day everything was fine and then Draconis’ couldn’t turn away the storm. Lesariu had the same problem in Guis; a sandstorm buried one of their larger cities. In Sutten a flash flood turned Socolis’ old lair into a swamp. A giant volcano erupted in Terum and killed millions; Kumanius couldn’t do a thing about it.” The King explained.

  “Alright, then where are they?” Tristan asked chuckling.

  “Well it’s a good thing William shouted out for captives because between them all we figured out a general location for The Bane’s headquarters.” Dion admitted.

  “Good. Where?” Tristan blurted.

  “Better pack a warmer cloak son; you’re headed into the Expanse.” The King replied.

  “Wonderful.” Tristan replied sarcastically. He’d known for some time that the rumored location of The Bane’s keep was somewhere in the vast Great Expanse, but he had hoped it wasn’t true.

  The Great Expanse was largely snow covered tundra, for four months out of the year the temperatures were such that farmers could grow crops of various kinds. Most of the best barley for ale and wheat for bread came from the Great Expanse and it was traded for things that Tristan and his countrymen took for granted; furs for warmth, fruits and sweets. So prized was the grain from the Great Expanse that it outsold all others in the fall, giving the Expanse farmers ample food for the winter and coin in their pocket for supplies should they run low during long winters huddled away in small houses kept warm by roaring fires.

  “They have a small fortress on the eastern coast. It used to be a pirates cove but it was abandoned some time ago.” The King explained.

  The door burst open as a flurry of dark hair crashed into his stomach and knocked the wind out of him. The King burst out laughing as did Annadora, William, Kevin, Alison and Otis who followed Eurydice into the room. He comforted his little sister who cried and laughed into his chest, a little emotional storm coming out in torrents.

  “I told her you’d be fine.” William laughed.

  The funeral was a simple one for the Knight-Captain and his Corporal. Tristan stood at the front of the gathered soldiers of Metao. Pain was his only companion despite his cousin and sister at his side. Euri held Tristan’s hand, trying to comfort him. William had his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. Everyone who had served with Robertson came forward to lay a wreath of holly on his corpse.

  The servants had clothed him in his dress tunic, which Tristan found amusing despite the mood. He shook his head as he remembered the old man’s hatred of the high collar affair; he looked strange with all of the buttons fastened. His arms were crossed over his chest, clutching his sword.

  The priests came over and began conducting the proper funeral rights, naming his many accomplishments and friends. Kevin came forward at the appointed time and placed a wreath of holly laced with blue orchids, a mark of the Knight-Captains station, on Robertson’s chest. When he turned to leave he put his hand on Tristans shoulder.

  “He was very proud of you little brother. He wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself.” Kevin said; his voice heavy with grief.

  Tristan stepped forward, placing his hand on the Knight-Captains cold forehead. He chuckled to himself as he un
buttoned the top button as Robertson would have preferred. Slowly, he stepped back an allowed the priests to continue with their work. One of the many priests straightened up, and looked over at the young Prince quizzically. He looked the young man from head to foot and then walked over to him.

  “My Prince, I have a message for you.” The priest stammered out, looking him deeply in the eyes. Tristan looked up at him, his eyes red and brimming with tears.

  “Fate is a cruel bitch.” The priest said in a strange whisper.

  “He always did have to get the last word.” Tristan said out loud as a single tear fell from his eye.

  Learning Curve

  The ship swayed in the quay and the cleats groaned as the waves pulled the ship higher than the ropes would allow. Tristan knew one thing; not even out of the harbor and he preferred riding, walking and flying to sailing. The ship bounced up again and he felt nauseous. His face must have been showing it as William began to roar with laughter.

  “You live in a coastal city for twenty years and can’t handle a little wave?” He shouted over the lightning of the coming northern storm.

  Tristan smiled crookedly back at him. “It’s not the little wave, it’s the bigger brother behind it, and the next one, and the one after….” He replied dramatically holding his hand to his mouth.

  Euri laughed beside them, all three of them pulled their oil stained cloaks tighter around their shoulders and heads as a cold rain began to fall. Kevin, Alison, the King and Queen waved at them from their carriage. The cousins waved back, allowing their cloaks to briefly blow in the cool damp mist. The Captain of the ship called for the lines to be pulled in and the ship lurched forward as the sails were tied off.

  The three of them headed below where Otis sat playing card games with a few members of the crew. Tristan began to walk over to the table, hoping that the game might distract him from the swaying of the ship as it cut through waves. He stopped after a couple unbalanced steps and changed his mind, turned, and walked back to his cabin. Inside the small room he hung up his soaking cloak and lay back on his bunk and forced his eyes shut. He tried not to imagine what a large wave would do to the fast cutter style ship.

  Tristan tried to clear his mind, though the lurching of the ship made this by far the most difficult time he’d had of it so far. Lying down seemed to steady his nerves though and he began to drift off. A few raucous cheers from the card game caused him to snap awake several times before he finally nodded off into a troubled sleep.

  ~

  In his dreams he was being chased down a narrow corridor by a large black raven, just as it was about to catch him it shattered into a thousand pieces. Then he was back in the dueling room in his parents palace, he was exchanging blows with the sword masters son. He turned around to a blinding flash that hit him like a giant wave crashing into the hull of a ship. The last thing he saw where the red cross-gartered sandals and black painted toe nails.

  ~

  Two days had passed at sea when the storm finally blew itself out. Tristan and William walked up on deck to find Eurydice looking out at the distant horizon from the bow of the ship. As they approached Tristan could make out cliffs in the distance. Off the starboard side of the ship they passed a large rock jutting out of the water a few miles away. Giant sea lions lay, sunning themselves on the rock as they challenged one another to the right for the best spots.

  Off the port side large whales played in the water, one was coming farther out of the water than the last, each of them were trying to best the last attempt. It was fair to say that Tristan had grown to appreciate the sea, even if he still didn’t like being on the open water. Even without the storm the ships nauseating rise and fall was enough to make him dizzy.

  Over the last few days Euri had gone nowhere without her staff, she clung to it as though it anchored her to the earth. William and Tristan often found it amusing to antagonize her about the metal staff. It stopped being amusing when she started using it on their bare feet which they’d taken to doing as the sailors did for better grip on the constantly wet deck of the ship.

  “What’s with that staff anyway Euri?” Tristan asked.

  “If you must know, Kevin made it for me a few years ago.” She shot back, leaning on it protectively and eying their feet maliciously.

  “So?” William chuckled.

  “It was one of the first things he made with one of Mothers hairs in it.” She explained.

  “Why would he do that?” William asked in shock.

  “It’s something she’s been insisting on doing the last three years. No one’s really sure why but her and Kevin had a long talk one night alone and he’s been doing it ever since in all of our family’s weapons.” Euri explained.

  “I think it has something to do with the imbued magic in part dragons. Remember that sorcerer back in Heatherington?” Tristan asked.

  “You tied a piece of your hair to my arrow, right?” William replied.

  “Exactly, it seems to help mundane weapons piece magical barriers.” The Prince explained.

  “I’ve given up trying to understand why it works, it just does and I’ll use whatever I can to keep myself alive.” He laughed.

  “There’s no denying that it helped with the walls of the Keep.” William observed with a laugh.

  The sun reached its zenith as the ship approached the quay at the base of the cliffs. The town was deserted. Ship hulks littered the water surrounding the docks as they rotted where they lay on the seabed, masts and scattered pieces of canvas littered the docks. Euri gasped as a few bloating rotting corpses floated by, lashed together as though they had been used as a raft.

  Most of the buildings stood, though that was being very generous. Their wooden plank walls were stained and moldy from being exposed to the elements without repair for Gods knew how long. Support timbers were held together by rusted metal brackets which appeared as though a brisk wind would knock them over.

  The ship coasted into the harbor and the sailors used ropes to swing off of the quarter deck and land on the docks. Sailors aboard ship tossed them lines to tie off on the cleats as the ship settled into the quay. The gangplank was run out and the Captain and first-mate were first off the ship, an old tradition that Tristan definitely had no problem with. The two sailors were followed closely by Tristan, William and Eurydice.

  The dock groaned under their combined weight as they slowly walked towards the town. Tristan looked around for signs of life in the deserted town. Rats scurried by, frightened out of their hiding spots as more of the crew came ashore to explore the town. Tristan walked into what looked like it had once been a prosperous pub. A billiards table dominated left side of the room, looking decidedly neglected. The color of the fabric had long since faded and it was torn in places. A few of the balls remained intact, others were scattered about the floor or missing altogether.

  He walked behind the bar to find the beer mugs caked in dust. The taps wouldn’t move and the ones that did coughed up sludge that smelt disgusting, but little else. Whatever was left of the fireplace was crumbling from its mortar on the wall. Large stones from the chimney littered the floor around the base of the fireplace. Most of the tables had been overturned or destroyed, though there was one table. It was the closest table to the fireplace that was intact and had a beer mug on it. The glass was dusty, but not nearly as bad as the others behind the bar.

  Something moved out of the corner of his eye and Tristan spun towards the door as a small dark blur moved away from the door frame. Crossing the pub floor quickly he stuck his head out of the door and looked up and down the street outside. Euri and William were walking into another building and the Captain was rummaging around in what appeared to be a sail-makers shack. Nothing remotely like what he’d seen.

  Shaking his head slightly he left the pub and walked towards the building Euri and William had entered. Half-way there another dark blur caught his attention. This time he got a better look at the man. He was short, had long dark hair that masked h
is facial features, and his cloak was matted with mud and filth.

  Tristan walked into the gap between two buildings where the man had disappeared. He was forced to feel his way along as between the buildings as no sunlight penetrated the small alley. Slowly he edged his way between the buildings until it emptied out into a small opening where four buildings met. Judging by the sound of his shuffling feet echoing off the walls around him the space was perhaps ten feet around.

  A small globe of light illuminated in the middle of the gap from the end of a staff. The little man stood there, swaying slightly, his eyes half closed and fluttering as he muttered the spell that allowed his staff to glow. The intensity of the light continued to grow and Tristan could begin to see the gap they were in. Wooden crates lay smashed haphazardly, the remains of which had been used to build a wooden box in the middle of the space where the little man must have slept.

  The light ceased getting brighter as the little wretch stopped muttering his spell. He took a deep breath and used the staff to steady himself. Tristan could now see the bed the little man used. Scraps of sail cloth, wool and cotton littered what looked like a crate that had been converted into a man sized basket. There was a torn oil stained cloak sitting off to the side that Tristan assumed the little man used as a blanket against the chill of night. The little man took another deep breath, regaining some of his strength as he did so. He looked up at Tristan, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Who….are…..you?” He stuttered as though searching for words unused in some time.

  ~

  The desk and tome flew across the room and smashed against the far wall. The desk broke into a dozen pieces or more, while the large volume’s spine snapped, sending pages flying. In the middle of the room stood two powerful sorcerers, a tall regal woman and a thin man with long hair. Both of them radiated power and it rose off of them in waves like steam from a hot bath.