Protective rage rose up inside Tristan’s stomach as he eyed the guard who had been fumbling with his belt. He leaped over Euri’s sleeping body and grabbed a hold of the hilt of his sword. He pulled it clear of the scabbard as he spun and jabbed the tip of the blade into the guards’ chest before the guard’s hand even reached for the sword on his hip.
The guard looked down at the dragon hilt of the sword, mumbling uselessly as the life began to flee from his eyes. Tristan jerked the blade loose which caused the man to rock forward. The young Prince kicked him in the chest sending the man into the door to the cell, slamming it shut. The light faded from the large guard’s eyes as he slid down the door and slumped to the floor.
Another guard burst into the room, forcing the door open and sending the dying guard sprawling to his right. Tristan’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he tightened his grip on the sword. This guard had his sword already drawn for all the good it did him as Tristan lopped his head off. It sailed across the room, bouncing off the wall and knocking over what remained of the platter. The Prince spun in place and kicked out sending the headless corpse out into the hallway.
Anger filled the young man as he stalked out of the cell and walked down the hallway. Farther down the hallway, light poured out of a room with an open door. Tristan approached quietly, feeling like the grim reaper closing in on his prey. He looking through the doorway carefully, taking in everything he could see in the room.
Five guards sat around the table playing cards, their weapons were close at hand. Each of them had a dangerous and experienced look to them. The Prince swore softly as he pulled his head back and looked around the hallway he was in. He searched for another weapon of some sort, an edge, some sort of surprise that he could use to take on five experienced soldiers with just his sword in hand. He risked another glance into the room and saw his armor in a pile on a table in the far corner and cursed quietly again.
“That’s one way to put it.” The Prince spun around bringing his sword to the ready as the old man held his hands up. “Peace, young Prince.”
Tristan glared at the old man. “You’re going to get your head cut off sneaking around like that.” He croaked.
“I certainly hope not my young friend.” He replied jovially. “Trying to figure out how to get your armor without getting killed?” He asked rhetorically.
The Prince merely nodded, looking supremely irritated. The old man chuckled slightly as walked through the open door into the guards’ room. Tristan watched in surprise from the hall as the old man walked past the gaming guards. The moment he put a hand on Tristan’s armor the guards were out of their chairs, closing in on the little man.
Tristan had found his opening. He quickly entered the room and leapt onto the table. One guard turned, only to have his throat cut as Tristan knelt down and lashed out. The little man made a quick movement forward causing the nearest guard to backup into his comrade. Tristan used the opportunity to run them both through as he thrust the tip of his sword into their backs.
The last two guards drew swords and slashed downwards at Tristan. The Prince flipped off the table backwards as the guards broke the table in two with their blades. One of their blades became stuck in the rubble and Tristan used the chance to quickly run him through. Tristan dove over what remained of the table and rolled to a stop at the foot of the table that held his armor.
On one knee Tristan reached up and felt around for his shield on the table. The guard pulled his blade free from the wreckage that was the poker table and laughed at Tristan. He pointed to the wall with his free hand as he continued to boisterously laugh. Tristan’s shield hung from the spear rack and the young man sighed in irritation as the guard closed in, still smiling.
“My friend.” The little man yelled.
Tristan looked over to find his shield flying through the air. The guard hefted his single bladed axe over his head and brought it crashing down towards Tristan’s head. The Prince caught the shield by the strap, swung it up over his head and drove his sword forward. The blade slid freely into the guards’ stomach as the axe crashed into his shield, buckling his knees under the power of the guards blow. The little man cheered while hoping up and down.
“Oh well done!” He cried as he applauded.
Tristan rolled his eyes and shook his head. He pulled his blade free as the guard fell backwards onto one of his dead companions. Tristan quickly changed into his armor and when he finished, he headed back to the cell and dragged both corpses into the guards’ room and barred the door from the outside. Finally he walked back into the cell with his sister and cousin, bent down and kissed his sisters forehead.
“I’ll be right back.” He said, and then he placed his hand on his cousins’ shoulder, squeezing it briefly, turned and walked purposefully out of the room.
~
Danica Rhodes sat in one of the rooms that had survived the destruction of the palace, tending to her burns. Mystic fire scars never seemed to heal properly she mused darkly. She made a mental note that she needed to find a spell to conceal them by magic. Maybe it was time for a new body she wondered. She’d read somewhere that with the proper rights she could move her soul into a new body. Perhaps that young Princess Vallious’ body would serve. Then she could keep an eye on those dragon spawn scum herself.
Only a handful of soldiers remained after her battle with that ambitious fool Rossi, but it made no difference. It was time to move on at any rate. If she was cunning enough she could find a way into Guis and steal the Princesses body there. Then she could put an end to that damned prophecy once and for all.
“You go too far daughter.” A male voice called from the doorway.
Rhodes looked up at the doorway to see a little old man standing there, leaning against the doorframe.
“Careful father, I keep you alive because you amuse me.” She warned.
Ben cleared his throat, brushing away an imaginary speck from his ill fitting tunic.
“I always said you took too much after your mother.” He smirked darkly.
Danica seethed, she hated her father. Her mother had been far more useful. She had been a sorceress from Deus and she had taught her at an early age what dragons really were. They impeded the progress of mankind. Let that damn fool Vallious pay homage to his Dragon King, Danica vowed to be Queen of all. Terum was now under her control, Guis would again be soon, Sutten was only a matter of time.
They all would bend knee to her absolute rule, and then she would see an end to the dragon host and all their offspring. Unlike that fool Prince Vallious, she was properly ashamed to be the off-spring of a dragon.
“Mother hated you.” She shot.
“Only because I wouldn’t stay in this form for her.” He replied sarcastically.
“Henjis, you watch what you say to me.” Rhodes warned.
Henjis, in his mortal form as Ben the little old hermit, smiled widely as he mock yawned to irritate his daughter. He turned away and walked out of the room.
“I warned you.” He sang from the hallway.
In anger she stood and rushed to the door, meaning to yell after him.
~
Tristan picked his way among the wreckage of the old palace, heading towards one of the few standing buildings left. Broken windows, cracked support beams and pillars littered the rubble of what must have been at one point a rather nice building. Such a waste, Tristan thought. He’d long ago quit trying to assign reason to the chaos that seemed to be the Bane.
Still, he admitted to himself, they had been effective for a time. Like all ambitious groups though, it seemed that the price of success was for your underlings to try and kill you. Too bad, Tristan thought sarcastically. Only a score of buildings still stood on their own, small beacons of civilization amongst the refuse of stupidity.
“Careful where you walk young Prince.” A woman called from the doorway.
The Prince drew his sword, and replied; “You can live if you tell me where the leader is.” He called.
&n
bsp; The woman laughed loudly.
“Tell me young Prince.” She began, walking out of the doorway and towards him. “How is it that you come so far and don’t know who leads here?”
She slowly made her way towards him, her burns and scars from the battle they’d witnessed were coated in a green paste. The woman held her hands up in supplication as she made her way through the rubble.
“No one seems to know who leads here.” Tristan replied, lowering his sword slightly.
“Yes, well, that’s by design isn’t it?” She replied in a friendly tone.
Tristan re-sheathed his sword and lowered his shield.
“Who are you?” He asked.
The woman was fifteen feet in front of him when she stopped; she put her hands behind her back coyly, rotating back and forth.
“Just an acolyte.” She cooed.
“That was an impressive display for an acolyte.” Tristan replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“It was mostly smoke and mirrors.” She replied lightly.
“The dagger was real enough.” Tristan replied, thumbing the sword secreted in his shield.
“True.” She admitted.
The hair on the back of Tristan’s neck began to rise as power was being built up. It was done so quickly he barely had time to square himself behind his shield as a fireball the size of a dog hit his shield and sent him flying backwards. His breath exploded out of him as he smashed through what remained of a stone wall and landed painfully on the rubble strewn ground. He felt panic rise up inside him and more power was collected, the woman shot forth a larger blue flame. Tristan rolled backwards behind what was left of a support pillar as the fire scorched it, rending even the rock face closest to him hot to the touch.
Tristan drew his sword and stepped out from behind the pillar as even more power began to gather. The power of it was oppressive, like intense humidity before a savage thunderstorm. He couldn’t breathe deeply and it weighed heavy on his arms. She swung her arms around and shot a ball of electricity at him.
The Prince brought his sword up, hoping that it would protect him as it had in the past. The lightning collided with his sword, hitting him with errant sparks. His arms tingled, though most of the damage the spell would have inflicted was removed. His armor smoked in spots and his fingers twitched as they held fast to his sword and shield.
“Oh very good dragon spawn!” She shouted manically.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed, he remembered Euri saying something about the leader of Draconis’ Bane being a woman, and this woman fairly reeked of power and hatred for dragon kin. He discarded his shield, pulling out the dagger Eurydice had given him. Both blades contained hair of his mothers and both had saved him in the past. He tried to gauge distances, trying to find a way to get close enough to take her damned head off.
He felt little tremors as she built up power for another spell. Tristan broke into a run, rolling behind ruins as he felt magic power hit its zenith. He rolled past an archway as a ball of lightning destroyed it. Tristan was back on his feet and running towards her, once again he felt power growing and he dodged off to the side as a spear of light sizzled past his ear. He could smell the stench of singed hair.
Tristan broke into a sprint, quickly closing the gap between himself and the leader of the Bane. He felt power grow again and crossed his blades, hoping that his momentum would keep him moving forward. The power continued to grow until Tristan was almost on top of her. A wave of heat burst forth from her hands, slamming into Tristan and tossing him backwards a few feet.
Wind was knocked out of him as he hit the rubble hard again and was sent rolling to a stop. He dropped the dagger as his hand collided with a jagged rock, instantly broking his hand. Pain shot up his arm as hair rose on the back of his neck. Another wave of power was growing and he was quickly running out of time. Tristan leapt to his feet, looking for a place to shelter himself from the attack.
Nothing was close enough, all he could do was focus and hope his sword could take the punishment. Power continued to grow as Tristan painfully wrapped his right hand around his broken left hand and focused all of his will to blocking whatever spell came next. His eyes opened wide in shock as his blade began to glow, first pale white, and then red and finally his hands started to vibrate as the blade turned dark blue.
Her spell was unleashed; a blue ball of flame crossed the gap between them. It sizzled as it evaporated the moisture in the air. It closed in and Tristan shut his eyes, trying to visualize the ball hitting his sword and rebounding on the sorceress. He felt it hit the blade and its momentum pushed Tristan back. He tried to focus on forcing it back at the sorceress. The knuckles of his hands began to blister and bleed, his arms were getting unbearably hot. The straps from his bracers began to snap under the heat.
One of the bracers fell off and the other hung limply from the single remaining strap. Tristan’s eyes shot open. They were wide and illuminated by the light of the blue flame and his hair flew backwards as the intensity of the spell gained in power. Finally the pressure disappeared as the ball of fire traveled back towards the woman. She screamed as she erected a shield barely in time to deflect the fireball, sending it arching off into the sea as she fell backwards.
The woman screamed as she leaped to her feet. She swung her arms around and quickly built up the power of the last spell, but she didn’t release it, the power simply kept building. More and more power gathered to her. Tristan looked around in a panic; nothing appeared to be adequate to leap behind for cover. The power continued to build and he began to doubt if hiding in Metao would save him from this spell.
“DIE!” She screamed wide-eyed as she released a green ball of fire.
A roar echoed off to Tristan’s right, but he was too transfixed by impending doom to even glance in its direction. He grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands and tried to focus. Tristan’s life began to flash before his eyes, both the real life and his nightmare, superimposed one on top of the other as though they had both happened.
NOOOO! A voice screamed in his head.
Tristan opened his eyes to see a blur of black come between in and the green flame. An enormous black dragon caught fire in front of the young Prince. Quickly the green flame enveloped the dragon and turned blue, then silver, then orange and finally red as the dragon crashed into the piles of rubble surrounding them all. He skidded along the rubble, sending pillars and walls tumbling to the ground and rolled over the edge of the cliff and out of sight.
“FATHER!” The woman screamed.
The Prince wound up and threw his sword with his last vestige of strength. The blade turned, end over end as it sang through the air. The woman’s scream ended abruptly as she looked down. Tristan’s sword protruded from her sternum and she looked up at Tristan with tears coming down her face.
Limply she wrapped her hand around the exposed blade of the sword, looking up to the heavens and mouthing wordlessly. As a trickle of blood came out of the side of her mouth she fell forward onto the hilt forcing it the rest of the way through her and showering the immediate area with blood.
Tristan felt tired down to his very soul and fell to one knee. Every bump and bruise hurt as though it was a mortal wound. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The last thing he saw was a pair of great silver wings descending on him. Then he fell forwards and passed out.
“Tristan!” Euri called.
He felt cold water hit his face and sat up sputtering. He blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. Eurydice’s painful embrace reminded him all too well what kind of shape he was in.
“Are you alright my boy?” Draconis called.
Tristan looked up at the enormous silver dragon and smiled.
“I’m a little worse for wear, but I’ll live.” He admitted.
William laughed behind him as he grabbed a hold of Tristan and lifted the bruised Prince to his feet. Tristan dusted himself off and noticed his left hand was swollen and throbbin
g, though it no longer appeared to be broken. He also sported various burns and bruises all over his body. William handed Tristan’s dagger and sword to him as he looked around the crumbling ruin.
“What now?” William asked.
“We need to find that crystal.” Tristan instructed as he sheathed his blades.
They spread out and began looking. Tristan was tired; he could barely feel his own hands and feet as he plodded along. Most of all, the Prince wanted to sleep…for a week. As always though, duty over-ruled personal desires and he trudged along searching for a black gem of who knew how big in size.
After an hour or so of random searching, he sat down for a moment to rest. No sooner had he taken a seat when he snapped back up and ran over to the building the leader had been hiding in. The building itself was a smoldering ruin, but there was a smaller building attached to it that had been untouched by the battle.
In fact, it looked brand new. Tristan searched around for a door but couldn’t find one; the building seemed solid on all four walls. He looked around for something to bash against the wall, finding nothing but broken beams and rocks he picked up the largest rock he could and launched it against the building wall. The rock exploded on contact, sending painful pebbles flying back at him.
“Grandfather!” Tristan called.
Draconis ambled over, his steps causing a few rocks to fall from their precarious balancing act on top of what remained of the palace. Tristan chuckled to himself.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” Tristan asked, indicating the solid building.
The large silver dragon looked closely at the building, investigating the magic involved and sniffing, which Tristan found odd. Eventually the old dragon was satisfied as he turned around and swung his tail with all his might, blasting the top of the building clean off.
Draconis' Bane Page 32
