Draconis' Bane

by David Temrick

  ~

  “Great.” Tristan fumed.

  “Not only do I have to kill the evil child of an overly ambitious dragon, I’ve got to somehow figure out how to fix what they’re destroying.” He mused darkly.

  “More or less.” Ben answered with a smirk.

  Tristan groaned, Euri laughed and William brooded. After the initial shock of the monumental task in front of them, the three of them had begun trying to decide the best way to proceed. Euri and William favored bold direct action tough Tristan wished to be slightly less obvious about their attack, no matter how he personally felt slighted.

  The attempt on his life still irritated him and he longed for revenge. Every time he imagined driving his sword into the chest of the bastard who had cast the nightmare spell on him a nagging voice in the back of his mind would sing; Revenge is a dish best served cold. So again he attempted as best he could to control his temper, despite his more animalistic desires.

  Eventually it was decided that they could, at the very least, discuss this problem as they mounted the stairs. Even the old man couldn’t offer them much in the way of information regarding the stairs. Where they came out, how many of them there were, or even if the staircase was still intact. Not wishing to stand still any longer, Tristan led his sister and cousin up the stairs while the old man vanished once again.

  Hours later the endless debate ended abruptly as they approached the hole where the light from outside poured through. The stairs ran just below the opening. It was an enormous hole, easily thirty feet in circumference. It was perfectly constructed and ran from inside the cliff to the outside. Along the chasm were three smaller holes, presumably to keep rain water from pouring into the lair.

  Tristan wasn’t inclined to investigate the entrance further. He felt a strong pull upwards and had long ago decided to trust his instincts over his failed memories. William and Eurydice kept pushing their point of view on Tristan as they continued to climb the stairs.

  “They can’t have much of an army left; they lost so many in Sutten.” William said.

  “Those were all Terum soldiers cousin.” Tristan scolded.

  “They’ve lost three commanders already, how many men could they have left after that?” Euri implored. “You never saw what I did Tristan, their leader has a bad temper and every time you blunted their progress, the leader would kill someone.” She explained.

  “I’m not convinced.” Tristan asserted. “Fear is a powerful emotion, if they control their forces through fear then they’ve always done so and yet they still managed to conceive all of those plans.” Tristan replied.

  Still, his cousin and sister continued to push the issue as they drew closer to the top of the stairs. The hair on the back of Tristan’s neck began to rise as they closed in on the surface. Every few minutes an explosion would cause the dust from the top of the next flight of stairs to fall on their heads. A rather large explosion caused more than a few rocks to come tumbling down the chasm.

  Two powerful magicians tossed around energy at each other as children would toss sticks and rocks. Tristan could feel the heat of battle and began to run up the stairs, William and Eurydice weren’t far behind.

  The young Prince stepped off of the staircase and ran down a short tunnel that had been carved out of the bedrock. Eventually, that tunnel faded from solid rock to brick and mortar. Finally the three of them stood in front of a large solid oak door, reinforced with iron bands. Tristan heard a loud crash and whipped his head around; the cave behind them was collapsing from the last blast which was still ringing in their ears. He and William threw their shoulders into the door, pushing with all of their might. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it began to inch open.

  The rusted hinges gave way and the door fell forward with a loud crash. A group of mercenaries standing nearby watching the magical display looked over to see the three of them standing where the door had once been, dust settling around them. William and Tristan drew swords readying themselves for a fight.

  Eurydice stepped out in front of them, twirled her staff over her head and brought it down driving the end into the rocky ground at their feet. At first Tristan thought she’d gone mad, but moments later a strong gust of wind burst from her staff and knocked all of the mercenaries backwards. Some of them flew far enough to clear the cliff side, their screaming growing distant as they fell to their deaths.

  The Princess dropped to one knee briefly as a few of braver mercenaries got up and approached them carefully. Tristan pulled Eurydice behind him and then stepped forward with his cousin. The first of the mercenaries broke into a full run and leapt into the air, bringing his sword crashing down on Tristan. The Prince sidestepped the attack, reversed his grip on his sword and drove the blade down to the hilt through the mercenaries’ back.

  William laughed, preparing to take on the next mercenary. Tristan pulled his sword free as the mercenary fell forwards. Tristan shook his shield off of his back and raised his sword, ready for the next attack. Another mercenary approached slowly, his spear and shield at the ready as Tristan prepared himself.

  The mercenary shouted as he thrust his spear forward. Tristan sidestepped the clumsy thrust and chopped down with his sword, slicing the spear tip off and splintering what was left of the staff. The mercenary cursed, tossing it aside and drew his sword. He kicked Tristan’s’ shield, pushing the young Prince backwards to make room to swing his long sword.

  Tristan leaped forward, blocking the strike with his sword and using his shield to bash the man in the face. When the Prince pulled his shield back he could appreciate the damage he’d inflicted. The man’s nose guard was bent off to the side and his nose was little more than a squashed tomato on his face.

  The mercenary snarled, revealing a few missing teeth and a bloody mouth as his rage took over and he began to hack and slash at Tristan’s shield. All pretense of swordsmanship was lost as the mercenary raged at the Prince. Finally, having enough of this ridiculous display, Tristan used his sword to turn aside another blind slash and used the bottom edge of his shield on the mercenaries’ throat.

  He heard a satisfying crack as he broke his opponents’ windpipe. The mercenary dropped to his knees and began uselessly grasping at his throat. Tristan spun in spot and lopped the man’s head off rather than let him suffocate. Instinct took over and Tristan lifted his shield up behind his neck to block a blow from another man he’d seen out of the corner of his eye.

  The man’s spear skidded along the surface of Tristan’s shield. A hook, cleverly fashioned at the base of the spear point, pulled Tristan off balance as the man pulled back on the Princes’ shield. Tristan brought his sword over as his shield as it was pulled away from him and jabbed the man through the neck with his blade. The dying mercenary dragged Tristan’s sword out of his grip as he fell backwards.

  Off to his left William was being over-run by three mercenaries. Tristan put his toe under the fallen spear. He kicked it up into his waiting hand and threw it with all of his strength. The spear took the first man in the neck and as he fell sideways it slammed into another mercenaries shoulder. The hook that had pulled Tristan’s shield pulled the second mans arm off at the shoulder joint as it was wrenched out by the dying mans fall.

  William quickly dispatched the last mercenary slicing open his gut and then kicking him back into the armless man screaming on the ground. Tristan picked up his shield, pulled his sword out of the dead mercenary’s neck and walked over to William. The Prince reversed the sword in his hand and stabbed the screaming armless man through the chest as he walked past.

  Euri was still trying to catch her breath from the spell she cast as the cousins walked towards her, sheathing their blades. Off in the distance a hot wave of air rose as a robed woman flew into view briefly and then disappeared. Tristan grabbed a hold of Euri’s hand and pulled the young woman up and held her arm over his shoulder.

  “Ready little sister?” He smirked.

  “Getting there.” She gasped between deep steadyin
g breaths.

  William approached and added his shoulder to the task, holding her staff for her in his free hand. The three of them walked towards the sorcerers’ battle, looking for a safe place to observe.

  An enormous ball of fire erupted near them and crossed the distance to a woman just getting back on her feet. Tristan watched in fascination as she erected a defense at the last possible moment. He could see that her robe was smoldering in places beneath the shield of light, her skin itself began to blister. Finally the ball of fire dissipated. The hairs on Tristan’s neck rose again, and the young Prince knew a spell of terrible magnitude was being conjured. The male magician, cradling his obviously injured arm, erected a force-field around himself by waving in a circle with his good arm.

  A larger ball of fire crossed the gap between them, this one bright green. It collided with the man’s defenses. Tristan could feel the power radiating off of the man as he fought to keep the shield intact. His robes weren’t smoldering though, so Tristan judged that he would soon best the woman magician. He began planning a way to capture or kill the man.

  “When the man there kills the woman we need to run down there and bind him. We need to find the leader of The Bane and he’s likely to know where she is!” Tristan shouted over the battle.

  William nodded his reply as they continued to watch. The ball of fire seemed to grow as the woman approached the man slowly, thrusting her arms forward every few paces. The magician’s robes began to smolder and his teeth clenched in effort as the fire slowly cooked him where he stood.

  Finally the giant ball of green flame disappeared, leaving the rubble around the man charred and unrecognizable. The man’s face was indeed scared and burnt and his robes sizzled. Patches of visible skin blistered and oozed blood and sweat as patches of robe that remained smoked. Tristan continued to watch as the blade of a dagger slammed into the magicians’ chest. His attention returned to the woman, her arm extended and a look of obvious relief on her face. The male magician dropped to his knees and slowly pulled the knife free. He muttered something to the woman just before he fell over, dead.

  The woman magician looked around her, breathing deeply as smoke lifted from her robes. She saw the three of them and before Tristan could so much as grab his sword he was hit with blinding flash of light followed by complete and total darkness. The last thing he heard was William and Eurydice collapsing next to him.

  Setbacks

  “Stop your damned screaming!” His father bellowed at him as he whipped him mercilessly.

  Little Tristan was draped over his father’s knee behind their car, his dress pants around his ankles as his father whipped him with his belt for the embarrassing display in front of the church. Tristan screamed, he couldn’t remember being beaten like this. The brutality of it alone was enough to strike fear into his very soul.

  Finally, after more hits than the little boy could count, he was tossed off of his fathers’ knee and landed painfully on the gravel of the church parking lot. Tears were still streaming down his face as he struggled to pull his pants up. He hiccoughed and fought for breath.

  “Now get back in the car and don’t you move!” His father screamed, grabbing the boy by the scruff of the neck and tossing him back into the car.

  “You really should pick on people your own size you know.” A male voice said calmly from behind his abusive father.

  Tristan’s father straightened up, anger flashing over his features that the little boy knew all too well and turned around. His father wound up and swung at the stranger, who ducked the punch and delivered one of his own to his fathers’ stomach.

  The air was knocked out of his father as he clutched his gut and wheezed for breath. The stranger pulled back and punched his father in the side of the head, knocking him out. The little boy wiped the tears from his eyes, still sniffling, so that he could see who had saved him.

  A familiar voice said; “You have a job to do, pup.”

  ~

  Tristan’s head snapped up, his vision swam and he felt completely disoriented. He tried to shake his head to clear his thoughts a little. All he accomplished was a fresh wave of nausea. He saw a drain a short distance away and used all of his strength to pull himself along the slimy, dirty floor to the drain where he vomited until he passed out.

  When he woke up again he felt much better. His vision wasn’t in waves any longer and it didn’t make him sick to focus on objects. William and Euri lay nearby on the other two cots in the room. They tossed and turned, screaming from time to time like he’d never heard them before.

  He stumbled over to the door and found it unlocked and unguarded. Tristan looked down to find that he was wearing a simple woolen night shirt. His prized armor, weapons and shield were missing. He might as well have been naked for how helpless he felt. He slowly made his way over to Euri and William. He attempted to sit between then, but fell painfully onto his backside.

  Wincing in pain he tried to speak but his throat was dry and raspy. At first he couldn’t utter a word. After swishing his own saliva around his mouth and swallowing, he managed to cough out his sister’s name before succumbing to a fit of coughs.

  Tears in his eyes, Tristan tried to swallow again. Shaking his head he resigned to himself that at the moment he just couldn’t speak. Besides, the two of them were screaming and pleading so loudly that he didn’t think they would have heard him if he’d shouted.

  Tristan realized of course what had happened. The woman magician had cast the Nightmare Spell on all three of them. The young Prince probably would have given up hope if it hadn’t been for Knight-Captain Robertson. He could remember everything from his dream this time and it hadn’t cost him his memory. Clearly practice, he thought sarcastically, made perfect.

  William and Eurydice had no such practice; they were caught inside their own private hells. Tristan began to panic, remembering what many people had described to him as a death sentence of a dream. He wasn’t confident that Euri and William could pull out of the nightmare of their own volition. Certainly not Euri who cried loudly, sobbing at whatever she was being exposed to in the dream, William ground his teeth loudly withstanding monumental pain.

  The young Prince was at a loss on how to help either of them. The door opened and Ben sidled into the room, a platter of meat, cheese and fruit in one hand and a bucket full of water in the other. He gently put the bucket down and turned to see that Tristan was awake and between his cousin and sister, hunched down as though he was ready to strike.

  “Easy lad.” Ben said, holding his free hand up in supplication.

  He slowly edged towards the table behind the door and placed the tray down on it. Then he picked up the steaming bucket of water and pulled three small cloths out of it. He wrung the first one out and slowly, holding his hands up the whole time, walked over to Euri and began whipping the sweat from her forehead.

  Collapsing back on the floor, Tristan watched in fascination as the old man cleaned Euri and then Williams’ sweaty foreheads and necks. Then he wrung out two new cloths and gently folded them and placed them on their foreheads. Ben then picked up the two old cloths that had been tossed off as the two of them turned and lashed out in their sleep.

  Finally Tristan understood Eurydice’s happiness when he woke up from his nightmare a year ago. If he’d cried and yelled this much in his sleep it must have been excessively difficult for his family to watch him suffer. The old man finished his chores and turned to look at the young man.

  “The lady doesn’t know you’ve woken young Prince.” He began. “Eat, gather your strength. The only way to save them,” He pointed at Euri and William. “Is to kill the spell caster.” He abruptly swept his way out of the room, leaving a pitcher of cool water behind.

  Tristan dragged himself over to the platter and began to wolf down as much food as he could hold down. When his throat became too dry to swallow he guzzled down half the pitcher of water, which mostly ended up soaking the front of his night shirt. He finally began to fee
l warm again and rose shakily to his feet. Slowly, almost painfully, he stumbled over to the third cot and collapsed, once again passing out.

  Tristan woke to find a cloth on his forehead and his night shirt had been changed. He felt vaguely annoyed that his clothes had been removed, but he dismissed the feeling as something he could do very little about. He sat up, feeling briefly dizzy at the effort. Tristan turned in his cot and put his feet down, he jerked them right back up as they hit something cold and metallic. Tristan didn’t need to look down; he knew already that he had stepped on his scabbard. He reached down and retrieved his sword belt from under his cot.

  Tristan pulled the blade slowly out of its scabbard, feeling the markings along the blade as though it was the first time. His eyes narrowed and he whipped the sword out of the scabbard and held fast to the hilt. He swung it effortlessly back and forth, feeling less naked and helpless by the moment.

  Tristan sheathed the sword and put it down on his cot as he stood up. He still felt weak, though not as weak as before. He could now stand without feeling as though he would faint from the effort and walked over to the table. He ate and drank his fill again. Tristan felt the strength begin to return to his hands and then he remembered about Euri and William.

  Quickly he crossed the room and sat at Euri’s bed. He used the cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow, trying to connect to her mind to no avail. The door to the cell opened and Tristan spun his head around. Instead of the hunched frame of the old man, a large guard walked into the room.

  Tristan rose from the bed and turned, the man had a large axe strapped to his back and a wicked looking sword hanging on his hip. He stopped as he turned into the room. He was too busy staring at Euri’s unconscious form lying on the cot to notice Tristan standing next it. The guards’ eyes must have had to adjust to the gloom, or he simply wasn’t paying attention. He walked right up to the foot of the cot before his eyes widened at the sight of Tristan standing there.