Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (10 page)

“There are some hard times coming my boy.” He
said seriously. “We all have faith in you though, and if the Fates
are kind we’ll see each other on the other side of these times
happy and at peace.” With a final squeeze he turned and walked out
through the archway into the courtyard where he vanished in a blink
of light.

“Are they gone yet?” Maggie called in
annoyance from behind the door.

Tristan laughed as he replied; “Yes, they’re
gone.”

Maggie marched forward, wound up and punched
him with surprising strength in his shoulder. “Ow.” Tristan
complained, rubbing the spot she’d hit.

“That was for leaving without telling me!”
She accused, pointing her finger at his chest. Then she grabbed the
back of his head, pulled him close and kissed him passionately.
“And that’s for coming back.” She purred.

Tristan laughed as he returned her affection.
A knock at the door interrupted their privacy forcing the Prince to
sigh theatrically as he untangled himself from Maggie’s embrace to
answer the door.

“Breakfast begins in ten minutes my Lord.”
The servant reported as Tristan poked his head out into the hall.
The Prince nodded his understanding and the servant made a quick
bow before rushing off to the next doorway.

Maggie hurriedly got herself dressed and
dried out her hair as best she could as Tristan explained where he
had disappeared to in the middle of the night. The Prince hated the
worried look that often crossed her features when he told her that
he took even the smallest risk. Even so he revealed to her
everything except the dragon lore he’d learnt, he felt protective
of that knowledge for reasons he couldn’t put into words. Perhaps
it was a racial trait he mused as she took his offered arm and they
walked out into the hallway.

The couple walked into the main dining hall
to find everyone seated around the largest circular table. He
smiled as his sister greeted them, she casted her eyes to her left.
Tristan’s focus followed to see the strangest looking woman he’d
ever laid eyes on, holding his son on her seated lap. Her features
were too smooth and her nose was barely more than a small
protrusion from her face. She possessed no ears, her eyes were tiny
slits and her eyebrows were far too thick for her diminutive
features. The woman’s hair was wild, red, windswept and
unwashed.

Still, there was air of familiarity about her
and it wasn’t until she smiled at him that he placed it, her teeth,
despite her best efforts, where quite jagged and dragon-like in
appearance. He stopped himself from blurting out her draconic name
and simply asked with his mind,
Bethia?

She nodded her head eagerly in reply as she
gently held his son in her arms. Jonathan looked up at her,
watching her features with rapt enjoyment. He giggled on her lap,
drawing her attention back to him as she clearly spoke with him
through their thoughts. Tristan tore his eyes from her strange
appearance, looking around the table for someone to direct his
questions to, finding no one. Drake sat to the Rajina’s right
talking quietly with her; Lesa sat beside Bethia instructing her in
how to behave like a believable human woman. Euri seemed to be the
only one unoccupied as Mina engaged Maggie in a friendly
discussion.

The Prince was happy that the two of them had
come to an understanding early on, and much to his own surprise
found that they had far more in common than he was sure either one
of them wanted to admit. He sat down and filled his plate with some
fruits and sweetbread as he directed his thoughts to his
sister.

When did she arrive?
He asked.

Bethia?
Euri asked rhetorically.
Just a few moments after we did.

She can barely speak, how did she manage
to assume human form?
He blurted.

Euri looked over her shoulder at Bethia.
I
think she did rather well; at least the robes hide her scales.
She admitted lightly.

Her scales?
Tristan asked, trying not
to look overly shocked as he bit into a pear.

It is her first transformation.
Euri
warned him.
Socolis had to help her quite a bit, but the others
have been trying to accelerate her training and growth so she can
assume patronage of Terum before things get too crazy
there.

Too crazy?
Tristan asked with a mental
chuckle.
There’s an army of creatures and murderers in control
of the country.

True.
Euri admitted.
But they don’t
control the weather and volcanoes.
She explained.
Oh. By the
way, we call her Beth in her human form.

Tristan grunted in reply, biting into a
sweetbread roll with gusto as Otis made his way into the hall from
the courtyards. The old man looked a little tired to Tristan but
waved off the comment as he directed his concerns to the old man’s
mind. The Prince assumed this was all part of the young dragons
training and the elders had far more experience with this than he
did, so Tristan resigned himself to their wisdom.

After breakfast was done Tristan headed back
to their apartment to put his armor back on and pack up Maggie’s
keepsakes while she said her goodbyes. After the heat of the last
couple of months, he was boiling hot in his armor in a matter of
minutes. He sighed as he hefted his shield onto his back and tied
his sword belt off around his waist. Finally, with one last wistful
glance at his comfortable surroundings, he turned and walked out of
the room.

As he walked down the hall he barely heard
the swish of heavy fabric. The sound seemed out of place in a
palace full of people dressed entirely in silk. When he turned his
head to get a look at the author of the sound, he caught a blood
red robe vanishing around a corner. Tristan’s eyes narrowed as he
tried to remember the last time he’d seen fabric of that kind. He
closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts.

He felt a flash of light across his mind and
the red leather cross-gartered sandals and black painted toenails.
Tristan forced himself to look up in his mind’s eye at his
attacker, the vision hadn’t stricken him in over a year; the vision
of his attack at the hands of a sorcerer who cast the Nightmare
Spell on him. The attackers robe was blood red, and as it loomed
over his prone body his vision began to swim. Just before losing
consciousness he beheld the face. Or mask, as it was, a red leather
mask with golden eyebrows and a golden inverted arch on its
forehead. Tristan tried to force himself to hear what the sorcerer
said, but the image fled his mind’s eye before he could make it
out.

He felt sick; the same people who had
attacked him over two years ago were now creeping around the palace
his son was in. Tristan needed to find Peria and warn her, and then
he had to hunt down the bastard and kill him.

“Tristan? Are you alright?” Mina’s voice was
thick with apprehension.

“I’m fine.” He replied quietly, opening his
eyes.

His vision swam before him and he was
disoriented. Mina held his arm as he shook himself free of the
image he was holding on to; the masked face of his attacker, and
likely a threat to his son. Then he remembered why he had tried to
call up the image and to color drained from his face.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked in shock.

“There’s a sorcerer running around your
palace in a red robe.” He blurted.

“So?” She asked.

Tristan looked at her in shock. “What do you
mean?” He asked in a measured tone.

“We have many sorcerers visiting here from
Deus.” She informed him.

We have a problem.
Tristan sent to
Drake as he grabbed Mina by the arm and led her out to the
courtyard.

“What’s wrong?” He answered out loud.

“Nothing, just got light headed.” Tristan
lied out loud while he pushed the images of his attack into his
grandfather’s mind.

One of them ran away from me moments
ago.
He explained.

This is a problem.
Drake replied as he
walked over and felt Tristan’s head for show. “Probably just the
heat with your armor on.” He commented out loud.

What’s going on?
Lesa asked.

Tristan sent the images of his attack to her,
Otis, Beth and Euri. Each of them hid it with stony silence as
their true discussion took place between their thoughts.

I don’t trust them.
Otis
commented.

Neither do I.
Admitted Eurydice.

This can’t distract us all.
Drake
warned.
Socolis, you and Lesariu must go with Bethia to
Terum.
He ordered.
She’s going to need your help.

Drake turned to Euri and offered his arm as
Mina relieved her mother of Jonathan’s squirming. He turned to
Peria and asked; “Milady, if it’s agreeable with you, my
granddaughter and I would like to stay a while longer and
visit.”

The old woman smiled warmly as she bowed. “Of
course my Lord. Our home is yours.”

Eurydice and I will stay behind to guard
the child.
He advised them.

Otis and Lesa stepped forward and placed
their hands on Beth’s shoulder and closed their eyes. The air
around her became foggy and heat began to rise off her human shape
in a fine mist. Slowly the human shape coalesced into a small
dragon form, and then it grew at an alarming rate until finally the
fog lifted and the large red dragon Bethia stood before them.

Peria and Mina watched, rapt and almost
certainly alarmed as Jonathan clapped and cheered with his young
enthusiasm. Tristan was forced to admit that while her
transformation was slower than the elders, he was fascinated by it
nonetheless. Otis walked over with Tristan’s saddle and with the
Prince’s help had it in place in no time. Then the old man and
golden-gowned woman transformed themselves back into their true
forms. With a small amount of fuss, Sergeant-Major Frose allowed
himself to be picked up by the older dragon and placed on his
white-scaled back.

Please lower yourself my large friend.
He asked Bethia.

The large red dragon lay down, extending her
neck out to flatten her shoulders as much as possible. Tristan held
out his hand to Maggie who was still frozen in place, wide-eyed and
petrified of the transformation she’d just witnessed. Not for the
first time, Tristan wondered at the wisdom of including her in the
circus that was his life. Outwardly, he chuckled as he grabbed a
hold of her hand, instantly shaker her from her reverie as they
walked forward.

Tristan leaped up into the saddle and
strapped his legs into the sleeves along the stirrups. He extended
his hand down to Maggie, whose hand rose shakily towards his. The
Prince pulled her up in one fluid motion and held her between the
horn and himself.

Please take off slowly, this one scares
easily.
He sent lightly to Bethia.

The enormous red dragon slowly beat her wings
up and down before she lightly launched herself off the ground.
Bethia laughed deeply as Maggie grasped the horn in fear.
This
one really doesn’t like heights does she?
She asked.

It’s not the heights really; it’s the
steady up and down of your flying.
He chuckled.

“She said she’ll try and glide as much as
possible.” Tristan said lightly as Maggie whimpered in reply.

Tristan swore.

“Couldn’t have said it better m’self, sir.”
Sergeant-Major Frose grunted from his side.

The Prince had returned to the fort a week
before the snows had begun to melt. As he and his army prepared for
the spring campaign, they were often serenaded by the cracking of
ice and the roaring of bears waking up from hibernation. The
alarming regularity of the volcano eruptions to the south and
columns of smoke rising from their mouths was becoming more and
more common. Tristan was anxious to see an end to this war so the
elder dragons could continue Bethia’s training. She needed to get
to the point where the impressive red dragon could exert some sort
of control over the country’s more volatile landmarks.

With the snows finally melted, they found
themselves constantly soaked by the heavy spring rains. At first
they were so cold that the majority of the soldiers came down with
spring flues, but last week they finally began to take on a warmer
light drizzle which still soaked the battlefield below them where
thousands of soldiers gathered.

Over the winter Colonel Yeris had proven
himself to be an able commander. More out of boredom than anything
else he had led a patrol north to check on the disposition of the
men. He found their entire northern element decimated and the Great
Gate in the center of the Wall of Terious thrown wide open. When
Tristan returned he assigned command of the northern element to
Yeris in the hopes that the Colonel would be able to keep the force
up there from collapsing again.

Although now, seeing the force assembled
outside, he was questioning the wisdom of sending twenty thousand
men with him as reinforcements. Even with the levies from Vallius
and Sutten as well as the special detachment that arrived two days
ago from Guis, Tristan’s’ army numbered slightly more than fifty
thousand soldiers. Arrayed in front of him was their match in human
numbers, plus siege engines, orcs and trolls and various other
creatures he couldn’t put a name to.

“At least they didn’t being any giants with
them.” Tristan sighed.

“There it is.” Frose commented.

“There what is?” Tristan asked, casting his
gaze among the defenders looking for what the Sergeant saw.

“The silver lining; no giants.” He grunted
dramatically.

Tristan was forced to laugh despite the grim
situation. “Get the catapults loaded with caltrops Sergeant.” The
Prince ordered.