Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (24 page)

“What do you propose?” He asked.

“I will take Eurydice and Mina; we’ll fly to
the swamps where the orcs keep their un-hatched young. The pair of
them are more able than I think even they know.” Lesa
explained.

Ruth gently brushed back some of Lesa’s hair,
looking pained but kindly at her old friend. “I will help her.” She
said. Her voice was heavy with emotion.

“I will fly to Terum and help Tristan.” Otis
volunteered.

“As will I.” Drake pledged.

“Well I can’t be the only one who isn’t
willing to sacrifice. Fine, fine. I’ll go help the boy.” Ben
grumbled. “The women should leave at first light. I will go to the
elves and ask for aid. Otis has always gotten along well with the
dwarves; I think he should go seek their aide.”

“Agreed.” Drake said.

“You can stay here and tend the hatchlings.”
Ben said sarcastically to Drake with a mischievous grin, to which
everyone laughed in reply.

~

“No.” Mina answered flatly.

Several days later, Lesa and Eurydice
Vallious sat in Mina’s favorite garden. It took little to convince
the young Vallius Princess to come along with her. She held her
brother in no little awe and strove to be like him in all ways,
including selfless bravery. Euri had also voiced her reluctance to
slay the young, having no sexist stance towards killing adult women
she still had little desire to take the lives of infants and
children.

She was a brilliant young lady though, and
easily grasped the powers at play and knew dragon lore as well as
her brother, perhaps better in some respects. Euri brought along
her metal staff, and flew with Lesariu through the pre-dawn gloom
from Kumia, where she had been tending her sister-in-law, to Delhi.
The pair of them had hastily made their way up the large stairway
of the palace. It took little time to find Mina, who was busy
feeding Jonathan in her favorite garden. His tutor, leaving the
three women to talk in privacy, retrieved Jonathan.

The pair of them had recounted the history of
the draconic race and how they came to live on this world. Even
after Lesa shared her memory of orc barbarism with her
granddaughter they could make no progress in convincing her to take
up this terrible burden.

“I understand they must be slaughtered, even
if it would only serve to protect my son from the same fate as
Draconis’ father.” Mina explained; her voice was heavy with emotion
as she continued. “I simply can’t see how I would be able to help
in anyway.”

Lesa looked at Euri in exasperation, despite
her granddaughter’s insistence that she had no skills to offer, the
pair of them knew better. Euri picked up a plum from the tray
sitting between them; she felt the plum with her mind,
investigating every nook and cranny. She looked over the top of the
plum, seeing Mina watching her closely. Smiling, she launched the
plum at the sister of her heart with her mind.

The small fruit sped towards Mina’s face at
an incredible speed. Just before it was to strike her it hit an
invisible barrier and took off at an angle away from her. Lesa
shared a knowing smirk with the younger Princess as Mina sat in
complete stupefied shock. She looked pleadingly at her grandmother
and Euri and again said;

“No.” Mina said in little more than a
whimper. “I have a son to take care of.” She said a little more
firmly.

“Your son is one of the more important
reasons why we need to stamp out this threat now.” Euri urged.

Lesa knew her granddaughter had never been
the physical sort; her life had been one of pampered luxury. She
had hoped however that the betrayal of her father would have opened
her eyes to a much larger world than she had previously known.
Sadly, this was not the case. Yet there was a feeling deep in her
being that Mina needed to be a part of this fight, if for nothing
else than to show her son that freedom is anything but free. She
watched Mina as her heart broke, knowing that she was asking her to
set aside the spoiled Princess and do what must be done.

“I don’t even know how to fight.” She said,
seeing neither Lesa nor Euri accepting her refusal.

“Remember when you were a little girl and the
traveling bard company came through Guis?” Lesa asked. A confused
look passed over Mina’s face as she nodded.

“You were fascinated by that woman’s ribbon
dance.” Lesa added.

“Diane. Her name was Diane.” Mina
admitted.

“Your father arranged for her to stay for a
few months and teach you how to dance with a ribbon.” Her
grandmother concluded.

“What of it? I certainly can’t kill with a
ribbon
.” Mina shot in anger.

“Are you sure?” Euri asked playfully.

Mina shot her a glare, to which Euri simply
smiled wider and handed over a long wooden box. The box was deeply
stained to a pleasant dark brown color; golden metal trim ran along
its lid and along the grooves of its opening. A small brass latch
kept the lid down, and Mina gently pushed the hook out of its
eyelet and opened it.

Inside, laying on a plush purple silk pillow
sat the oddest-looking material. It was slender, like one of her
many necklaces; however none of her necklaces chains were linked so
closely together. Mina ran her fingers along an unbend part of the
long chain, it was smooth to the touch and felt oddly warm against
her soft skin. She reached a bend in the chain and while the inside
of the curve was smooth and without blemish, the outside slit the
tip of her middle finger open.

Mina gasped and drew back her hand, putting
her middle finger into her mouth to stem the flow of blood. She
gave the pair of them a troubled look as she reached into her robe
and drew out a handkerchief and wrapped it around her finger. When
she was satisfied that she’d at least slowed the flow of blood from
her finger, she looked up at them.

“I’ll hurt myself more than others with that
thing.” She said pleadingly.

“Not likely. I asked Kevin to make it for
you; I was going to save it for Solstice but under the
circumstances…” Euri let her voice fall off.

Mina returned her attention to the weapon;
she decided that ribbon was an inappropriate name for this item.
Regardless, it resembled the fine ribbons she’d learnt with and
still used when time permitted. She looked up at Lesa and asked;
“How do I make that barrier come back?”

“For now it will come by instinct, in time
you will learn how to call upon it at will.” Lesa answered
kindly.

Mina gently reached into the box and grasped
the handle of the weapon; the chain appeared to be about seven feet
long of inter-connected chains. The handle was metal, wrapped in
leather and despite the hard materials used; Prince Kevin had made
it a thing of refined beauty. Mina placed the box on the ground and
stood up, pulling the chain out as she did so. Finally the end
emerged, a very small mace looking piece of metal. She reached down
and lifted the light metal mace, it looked rather like…

“A
dragon fist
, yes.” Euri offered.
“Kevin saw a few things like this over the years and after we
talked about your ribbon dance at the last Midsummer Solstice
festival, he devised a way to create something that could be as
deadly as the dance was lovely.” She explained.

The
dragon fist
as Euri called it had
a handle that looked as though two dragon talons were held back to
back and tied together with a fine metal ribbon. The end was quite
light, almost like the small ball of gathered fabric on the end of
her favorite dance ribbons. Mina experimentally flicked the handle,
a move that would have sent a lovely wave down the length of one of
her ribbons; the chain mimicked the movement flawlessly and then
the weighed tip lodged itself in the bole of a nearby palm
tree.

“Amazing.” Mina said as she gave the handle
another twitch, which would have loosened the fabric of her ribbons
if they had become tangled. The tip wobbled back and forth a
half-dozen times before falling to the ground.

In a fit of childish excitement she whipped
the handle again, sending the chain in a tight loop around her
torso as she spun. She flicked her wrist again and the chain shot
out and wrapped itself around the same palm tree. Mina pulled tight
and the chain cinched around the bole of the palm tree. As she
pulled back the bark began to splinter the surrounding area
slightly. Immediately she released the tension and snapped her
wrist again, bringing the weapon towards her where she controlled
its flight and coiled it at her feet. Mina reached down and gently
lifted the chain, marveling at its simple, yet infinitely efficient
construction and use.

“Mina.” Euri called, motioning for her to
come and see the bole of the palm tree.

The Guisian Princess walked forward, holding
the chain at her side, to investigate the damage she caused. There
was a carved ring around the bole of the palm tree that had cut
clean through the bark and laid bare the green trunk under it.

“If it does that to a palm tree, imagine what
it’ll do to skin.” Euri observed.

Steeling herself up, Mina thought of the
courage the father of her child selflessly displayed, his sisters’
mad desire to do her part and her grandmothers’ ceaseless fight to
keep them all-safe. How could she, do any less?

“When do we leave?” Mina asked in as brave a
voice as she could muster.

~

“The troops are ready my Lord.” Ubani, the
Orc Legate reported.

“Very good, Legate. Tomorrow morning I want
you to start the march. Midsummer is only a month away and our
siege must coincide with the time they are least ready for
trouble.” Binos ordered.

Traditionally, Midsummer Solstice was on the
first day of summer. It marked everyone one year older and even the
most ambitious business owners closed up their shops for the day.
In every city, town and village between the Guisian shores and the
Terum cliffs there would be great feasts and festivals. Bards would
entertain the masses while each household donated a dish of their
finest culinary efforts for the banquet that would culminate the
festivities at sunset.

Binos’ plan was ridiculous in its simplicity,
by noon anyone not inebriated beyond even the most limited
functionality would be either too young or too old to raise and
effective defense. It was equally traditional for the ale makers,
wineries and distilleries to debut their latest vintage at the
festival, and more often than not tasting’s turned into heroic
undertakings that were felt for days afterwards.

The leader of the orc forces became lost in
thought as he reviewed his battle plan and attempted to make
allowances for setbacks. He formulated plans in his mind, trying to
seek out all weaknesses and make alterations and adjustments as
necessary to assure victory. He sat brooding for what must have
been hours as the sun began to peak out over the horizon.

“Hello my former pupil.” Petrus voice cut
through the study.

Binos sighed, turning in his chair to see his
former master walking out of the shadows created by the rising sun.
He was dressed in Deusian fashion, a long blood red robe concealing
even his hands and feet, his deep hood pulled up over his head and
his face obscured by the typical red leather mask. The only hint at
his status on the
Congress of Weavers
was the extra chevron
on his brow.

“Lord Petrus.” He replied as evenly as he
could. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Oh we both know you’re not honored by my
measly presence.” Petrus replied, pulling his hood back. “But until
such time as you’re on the
Congress
I suppose you think it
prudent to act submissive.” He observed pulling the mask away.

He was a man of middle years; he’d chosen to
keep his white hair and beard trimmed close. Binos had heard tales
of his acts for years while he was undergoing his training, the
white hair and the pale purple eyes were the result of one or more
spells of Petrus’ own invention coming to fruition. It was said
that he could see through walls as easily as a man’s soul. He also
possessed the gift of future sight, a gift that had earned him the
extra chevron earlier than anyone before him. Binos silently wished
to beat that record, his own twenty-four years of age made him the
youngest master already and if he could deliver a victory for their
chief cause; he would be elevated to the
Congress
in short
order.

“Very well.” Binos chuckled. “Allow me to be
more direct; why are you here?” He asked.

Petrus stepped forward and clasped his hands
behind his back, as was his habit. He looked around the room, a
recreation of its former self. Petrus had been here before of
course, when Veronica Rhodes had been using this location as her
base of operations for her
Draconis’ Bane
cult. She too had
been quite ambitious and quite mad as well. The
Congress
had
known all along of her bloodlines, though they had more faith that
she despised her past. She had foolishly left her father, the great
dragon Henjis, alive long after he’d ceased being useful.

Binos watched his former master closely,
attempting to sniff out any duplicity or betrayal. It wasn’t
uncommon for the
Congress
to thrust a mission on a new
master, and then subvert their designs in order to quell an
ambitious young master rather than risk a rival. It also wasn’t
unheard of for a master not on the
Congress
to assassinate,
or arrange for the assassination of one of the twelve
Weavers
in order to speed along their ascension.

“At the bequest of the
Congress of
Weavers
, I have been sent to observe your progress.” Petrus
admitted without falsehood. “While others on the council would use
this opportunity to undermine your work, I will endeavor to aid you
when possible.”