Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (25 page)

Binos controlled his emotions masterfully; he
fought the nearly uncontrollable urge to raise his eyebrows in
shock. Also difficult to conceal were the suspicions that now
formed at an alarming rate in his mind. While he didn’t trust his
master anymore than any other sorcerer, he didn’t sense any envy or
jealousy behind his cleverly chosen words.

“Before I agree, I want something made
clear.” Binos warned. “If you’re trying to steal the victory for
yourself I will not hesitate to have one of my orcs tear you limb
from limb.”

“Doubt you, I do not.” Petrus replied. “It is
of your orcs I wish to discuss.”

Binos held up his hand as the Legate walked
back into the room. If the orc noticed or cared that another human
was in the room, he hid it quite well. He walked forward and halted
in front of Binos’ desk to report.

“The forces stand ready to march my Lord.”
Ubani said.

“Well done Ubani.” Binos complimented. “Begin
the march, setup camp just outside of the Fortress of Bueir.” The
Orc Legate beat his closed fist into his chest and bowed his head
briefly, the typical orcish salute, before turning on his heel and
stalking out of the room.

Turning his attention back to his former
master he asked; “What of them?”

“You realize that after the dragons, elves
and dwarves fall we mean to end the orcish threat as well?” Petrus
asked.

“Of course.” Binos answered.

“And yet you make them stronger, breed them
like cattle and thusly make them a grave danger to us all.” He
accused.

Binos held up a small vial filled with a dark
amber liquid. “Do you know what this is?” He asked as he passed it
over the desk.

Petrus examined it for a moment, closing his
eyes and muttering a simple spell of revelation. “Bitters?” He said
uncertainly.

“A little drop of this in their food or drink
is all it takes. I’ve bred them all to be severely allergic to
dandy lions; can you picture any of them picking a yellow flower to
admire its beauty?” He asked sarcastically.

~

Tristan and Beth sat amidst the hundreds of
shelves full of thousands of books. The twenty elven librarians
fetched them books of all kinds from the nearby shelves, piling
them high on the reading desks that sat in the middle of the vast
hall. Above them a canopy of branches and leaves formed a solid
roof that still allowed sunshine in, but no rain or dew to breech
and ruins the contents of this marvelous place. Each book was
lovingly preserved in some elfish fashion Tristan didn’t fully
comprehend.

Even the dwarfish additions to their vast
library were restored and preserved in an almost reverent ordeal.
Tristan had never seen such contrast, from dwarf to elf, even the
changing seasons didn’t have such clear distinction.

However, the pair of them sat skimming
through hundreds of tomes, books, scrolls and tablets, looking for
some hint of the
Morte Vaciu
. None of the librarians could
recall seeing or hearing of the work, though they had been hunting
extensively among their shelves for any hint of it.

Weeks ago the revelation that the elves
couldn’t find the book he’d been obsessing over would have sunk
Tristan spiraling down into a depression. Something in these woods
contrived to keep his hopes alive, or he was finally coming to
terms with the terrible truth; Maggie might not be able to be
saved. Whichever final outcome would come to pass, the Prince was
concentrating on those who needed him.

You’re lost in your thoughts again.
Beth observed; looking over the tablet she was deciphering.

“I’m starting to feel as though I’m on a
hopeless quest.” Tristan admitted.

The red haired woman stared at him for a long
moment before replying.
It’s a little soon to be giving up hope,
isn’t it?
She asked.
We’ve assembled many pieces to the
puzzle, and we merely need one more bit of information…surely your
quest is not completely without hope.

“Not without hope at all.”

Tristan looked up from his book as the elven
Queen walked into the library. She slowly made her way around the
desks, looking around the room in what appeared to be (if Tristan
judged elven facial expressions) fond memories. As if confirming
his thoughts, the Queen sighed theatrically.

“I miss this room.” She said wistfully. “If
my brothers were still here, I would still be a simple librarian
and historian.”

“Where are they?” Tristan asked.

“They have passed from this realm into the
next.” She replied evenly. “But I do miss my reading, I find little
time for it these days.” The Queen sighed theatrically as she came
forward and stood before their table. She raised her eyebrows in
question as she motioned to the free seat. “May I sit with
you?”

Tristan nodded, rising to pull the chair out
for her. The Queen intercepted him with a wave, motioning for him
to not bother. “We don’t often stand on ceremony outside our
court.” She said with a warm smile.

“The pair of you have been locked away in
here for days.” The Queen observed. “Perhaps it’s time for us to
come to an understanding.” She said calmly.

An understanding?
Beth asked
skeptically.

“Precisely.” The Queen answered directly.
“What do you know of how we came to share your world?” She asked of
Tristan.

The Prince closed his book, gently sliding it
forward on to the table as he sat up in his chair. He started with
the dragon lore revealed to him by Henjis, and then went into more
detail with the lore told to him by his grandfather. When he was
finished the sun had set and strange globes that hung from the
boles of the trees and the shelves themselves again illuminated the
library.

One of the librarians scurried into the room
and placed a few of the glowing globes on the table. With the
lights under her face, the Queen looked more alien than ever as she
considered Tristan’s words. Beth expressed her uncomfortable
feelings again, she didn’t like the memories of dragon-elf history
which Tristan assumed led more from the birth of orcs than the war
itself.

“Your insight is quite extensive. I see I was
right about you.” She said with pride. “There were doubts of course
that a human could grasp the full danger that comes.”

“What danger?” Tristan asked.

“The orcs amass again.” The Queen said sadly.
“We have lived in peace with the dwarves for hundreds of years.
Even the dragons have forged a peace with us, though they suffer
our company poorly.” She sighed while looking at Beth. “A relic of
our past I’m afraid. Once we were the closest to the dragons, now
that position is occupied by humans.”

She’s jealous!
Beth sent Tristan in
shock.

“Not jealous, friend dragon, I merely state
the obvious.” The Queen answered stiffly. “Perhaps humans are more
suited to draconic ways than we are.”

The Prince sensed that Beth was correct; the
elves had once been the ones to ride on the backs of dragons. They
lived with them, helped them nurse their young and taught them how
to communicate with mortals. The Queen was jealous that dragons
largely kept their own council, with the exception of their
half-breed offspring. Orcs were half-breeds as well Tristan
realized with dread certainty.

“You fear us?” Tristan blurted.

The Queen closed her eyes, the most obvious
admission she’d made yet. “I fear our feet are again on the path to
utter destruction.”

“You think the humans match the orcs
bloodlust?” Tristan asked, clearly insulted at the comparison.

“Do you know of how the war came to pass
Prince Vallious?” The Queen shot.

“An elf and dragon mated, the offspring was
an orc. The dragon fled with the young orc and over the centuries
the orcs grew in number until their dark purpose led them to kill
their father dragon.” Tristan answered.

“Not exactly.” A deep voice called from the
doorway.

Tristan was out of his chair, sword and
dagger clearing their scabbards, in moments. He crouched low,
preparing for a fight as the largest orc he’d ever seen walked into
the room. Beth turned in her seat and hissed at the sight of the
towering brute. He raised his hands to show that he was
unarmed.

The Prince relaxed slightly, noticing that
the orc wore the fine weave of the elves and carried himself as
though he were royalty. He slowly walked forward, keeping his hands
up in supplication. Finally he came to stand next to the Queen’s
chair. She put her arm gently around him, and looked at
Tristan.

“Prince Tristan, meet my son; Tulio.”

~

Drake brooded in the large chamber. While he
admitted that the others were better suited the tasks they
undertook, he, like his grandson, ached to do more than simply
watch over their hatchlings. Although that task too had its
challenges as the dragons had begun to battle uselessly against one
another. While they could do little damage to their opponents, the
damage they inflicted on their nest was considerable.

He had been forced to separate them by sex to
keep the more aggressive females from destroying one another. In
time they would learn to get along, but for now the girls fought
bitterly to establish dominance over their nesting area. Drake
chuckled to himself as the females lashed out at the protective
domes he’d erected around each of them. Once this orc business was
over with, the dragon host could turn their attention to teaching
the hatchlings how to fly, hunt and communicate with one another in
a slightly less destructive fashion.

One of the older males sauntered over to
Drake as he sat in a plush chair, his feet up on a stool, as he
watched the young. This one was most impressive, like his two nest
mates, he was now able to send thoughts to the elders. They tended
to be broken and slightly muttered, but by and large they grew and
learned at an impressive rate.

Elder.
The youngling sent.

“Hello my boy.” Drake said jovially.

Brother hurt.
He said with deep
concern.

“One of your nest mates is injured?” He asked
with concern, standing up and looking around the nesting areas.

No. Brother. Hurt.
He repeated with
frustration.

“Which brother?” Drake asked calmly.

Tristan. Hurt.
The youngling said.

Drake smiled warmly at the young bronze
dragon as he sat back down and kicked his feet back up. Always with
the bronze it was true, they could feel empathy for the entire
host. It’s what made them such excellent healers. Of course Tristan
was hurt, his bride lay dying of an unknown poison.

“His wife lay dying my son.” Drake explained
sadly. “He rages, he fears and he struggles to find that which will
cure her.”

He need flower.
The young bronze
dragon said with conviction.

“A flower?” He asked.

One that grow in magic place.
The
youngling replied.

Drake pulled his feet off the stool and
leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know what it looks like?” He
asked.

The little bronze dragon nodded his head.
Slowly the image of a purple flower coalesced in Drake’s mind. The
youngling tilted his head to the side slightly as he closed his
eyes in concentration. The flower became more distinct as the young
one focused his mind. It appeared to be an orchid of some kind; it
possessed purple pedals and a thick green stalk. The lands around
it come into focus. It was rocky and yet held a hint of greenery,
as the image pulled away, Drake saw hundreds of the flowers, all
scattered along a steep cliff face.

Drake looked at the youngling with open
surprise, for one so young to feel at this distance was incredible,
the rest was beyond explanation. The King of dragons knew this
island; it was a fairly desolate, devoid of trees, grass or the
ability to sustain any civilization. The dragons had deemed it
uninhabitable hundreds of years ago, only sparse patches of plant
life, those able to sustain themselves in limited soil survived. It
was an island that many magic users had hence used as a location
for their school. The island; was Deus.

~

“Again.” Lesa called across the
courtyard.

Mina barely suppressed a groan as Eurydice
used her arts to fling a dozen rather large branches at her. Using
her
Dragon’s Fist
, she snapped her wrist and twisted her arm
into a high arc. The first four branches shattered as the outer
edge of her chain tore into their bark. The next ones snapped as
the tip of her weapon whipped through the air and finally she
snapped her wrist again bringing the chain into a loop over her
shoulder, sending the remaining few branches flying off at various
angles. When she’d finished, Lesa walked over to her looking her up
and down as she pulled a single splinter of wood out of her
granddaughter’s hair.

“Very impressive.” She congratulated.

The three of them had been working tirelessly
for days to prepare Mina sufficiently for what they planned to
accomplish. Euri found that the Guisian Princess still thought the
task before them was repugnant, but she seemed willing to risk much
for her son. She knew that Mina felt that Tristan had already
sacrificed himself so many times for her for their child, and her
work was tempered by the need to prove herself to everyone.

“Do we leave soon?” Mina asked
uncertainly.

“Tonight.” Lesa said with a grim look.

Euri approached them, dusting off her hands
and smiling warmly at Mina. “You need a bath.” She said with a
grin, making a show of pinching her nose. The Guisian Princess
chuckled, her voice was thick with fear though. She turned and
walked off to her rooms while Euri and Lesa exchanged worried
glances at one another.