Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (30 page)

“Slowly young man.” She said with a laugh.
“The first two questions are related, so I will answer them
together. The orcs come to your Great Wall; they are led by their
King, though they call him the Legate.” Stella explained patiently.
“Though, perhaps to better answer your question, they are led by a
Deusian sorcerer. He is quite intelligent and enjoys alchemy much
more than his grandmother does.” She admitted sadly. “He’s quite
mad with power now, an unfortunate family trait I passed down to
Veronica before him.”

Tristan’s mouth dropped open, all of his
thoughts and questions were driven from his mind. Here, sitting
before him, was Henjis’ mate, the former leader of
Draconis’
Bane
’s mother and the original person who started this whole
mess…though she wasn’t at all what he had expected. The Prince
remembered all too clearly his battle with Veronica Rhodes over a
year ago on the debris of a mighty castle.

“So now you understand the crossroads you’ve
come to I see.” Stella said lightly.

“How…why….I…” Tristan stammered.

“You’re handling this much better than I
thought you would. Perhaps there is hope yet.” She observed aloud.
“Now, as for the last question; I don’t know when they’ll attack,
which can only mean my own future is tied in with yours now, for no
mortal spell caster can see their own death.” Stella said with
finality.

“Wait. How did a Deusian sorcerer, your
grandson I guess, come to lead orcs? They’re mindless brutes.”
Tristan said as though it was obvious.

“Remember that final battle for Terum you
fought months ago?” She asked. Tristan nodded in reply. “Well he
was one of their weaker leaders.” Stella said with no small amount
of irritation in her voice. “That foolish boy took orcs and cross
bred them with various lizards and amphibians until he made them
into a race of monstrous proportions. Then he magically manipulated
them until they stood seven feet tall, were broader than any
bugbear and had the strength of a giant.”

“Why in the hell would he do that?!” The
Prince asked in shock.

“He did it partly out of fear and partly out
of ambition, but mostly because he’s a damned fool.” She answered
him hotly.

“Perhaps we should start at the beginning.”
Stella admitted calmly. “Before dragons came to our world, there
were no countries. Each city had its own militia and ruler and they
warred constantly with one another. A few hundred years before the
great gateway opened and the dragons, elves and dwarves fled into
our world, all of the magic users on your continent escaped to this
island. The most powerful formed the
Congress of Weavers
and
ran a school dedicated to peace and safety for all magicians. Less
than a century later, one of your forefathers sent the
Congress
a request for a learned magician to moderate peace
talks between he and the Raj of Delhi. After the success of their
treaty many other rulers asked for the same boon. Eventually The
King of Vallius solidified his position and became the first
country with only one leader.” She explained.

“Guis followed after, Sutten adopted a
different way to rule themselves, but it created peace among their
clans none the less. Soon only the Expanse was a no man’s land, too
many strange creatures with no desire for peace. Each ruler took a
delegation of magicians as their advisors and there was peace for a
time.

About fifty years before the dragons arrived
a simple negotiation between Terum and Sutten went badly. The
rulers of both nations and their advisors were slaughtered in the
night. Naturally, the Terumites and the Suttenites blamed each
other. War erupted among all of the nations as each came to the aid
of their allies. Advisors became warriors as the magicians turned
against one another, each choosing a side in the battle. Wars raged
on for thirty years.” She took a steadying breath.

“The
Congress of Weavers
declared
themselves apart from the rest of the mortals and drew back into
their school. They wore red robes as a mark of their failure, and
those that rise high enough in rank wear red leather masks to hide
their appearance.” Stella sighed; it was clear that revealing these
things were hard on her.

“I was born here, and was taught that dragons
caused the war between men and then stopped it to position
themselves as a power on their new world. This was, of course,
non-sense since men are warlike enough without anyone else’s
influence. However, this is what our young are taught here and no
one is really sure why.” She chuckled at that.

“When I was young, I fell in love with a
young man who came here to learn. He was strange and quiet, yet he
was a very fast learner and quickly rose in rank. When my father
died of old age, he took his place on the
Congress
and we
married.” Stella looked into the flames of the fire for a long
time, composing her thoughts. Tristan could see tears forming in
her eyes, though the old woman fought them back.

“One night, when our daughter was still just
a baby, he rose from our bed and walked out into the yard. I
watched him, as I often did, standing in the moonlight and lost in
thought. Then the man I knew as Ben transformed into an enormous
black dragon and took flight. I was so shocked I couldn’t move.

When he returned home as a man, hours later,
I had still not moved from where I stood before the window that
looked out onto our lands. He took me into his arms and asked me
what was wrong. I pushed myself away from him. His touch had awoken
me from my shock, and I hit him with a spell so powerful that he
was launched out of that same window I watched him through. The
last I saw of my dear Ben was a black dragon flying erratically off
into the night.

Ben had spoken at length on how he felt the
dragon host was doing more harm than good, thoughts he called the
bane of their King. I adopted the name
Draconis’ Bane
and my
anger became my daughters. I was already an old woman when she rose
to the
Congress
and left the island.

Now my grandson seeks to complete the mission
his mother failed. He’s created these orcs and he’s gathered
hundreds of magicians and sorcerers to his cause. Binos has
gathered a mighty host; once he’s killed all of the dragons and
taken control of Terum he’s going to let the orcs loose on the
elves and dwarves. Then his path of revenge will lead him to your
family, including your son. Once he has exacted his vengeance on
you all, he’ll kill off the orcs and likely name himself King or
Emperor or some other honorific. His ambition has twisted his
already damaged mind.” Stella admitted sadly.

The old woman cried silently for hours. She
appeared to be lost in thought as she stared at the flames of her
small fire. A dozen times Tristan added wood to the fire; more out
of concern for her warmth than anything else. Stella’s revelations
had awoken something inside the Prince and he was anxious to
discuss these newly surfaced memories with his mother and
grandfather. Everything she had told him had surprised him at
first, but as her story continued it took on a more familiar tone
and he longed to have questions answered.

An hour ago, Tristan had finally established
contact with Lesariu. It appeared as though his skills had limits
and distance was chief among them. She offered to come and fetch
him herself, but Tristan wanted to discuss some things with
Draconis. As much as he wanted his wife back and well again, he
felt there was something more important and infinitely more
dangerous at work than a simple assassination attempt gone wrong.
This army of orcs was no small part, but he felt more behind the
attack. He couldn’t place the feeling, but he knew down to his very
soul that he needed more information than he currently had to
survive.

You’ll want to get out of the way.
Tristan felt in his mind. The presence was familiar, though tainted
with emotion he couldn’t properly place with the presence.
Just
a couple steps back will do.
Henjis chuckled in his mind.

The familiar form of the scrawny hermit
hobbled his way into the cave. Ben used an impressively carved
staff to help his limp; his left leg still appeared to be mangled
beyond use as he relied heavily on the black polished staff. His
clothing had changed back into the garments he remembered, a simple
black long tunic gathered around the waist by a simple leather
strap. His trousers were fairly non-descript and did little to
conceal his damaged appendage.

A cry of rage and sadness caused Tristan to
spin in place as the old woman walked purposefully towards him. The
Prince reflexively stepped back, not wishing to be the target of
her anger. Power bled off of her like steam from a hot bath as she
stalked towards the old hermit. Ben closed his eyes, preparing
himself for her onslaught but not raising any defenses Tristan
could feel. The short plump woman stood before the tall gangly
hermit, Tristan couldn’t see her face but he assumed her angry gaze
was a withering assault. Slowly, almost regretfully, Ben opened his
eyes to regard the old woman. She flung her arms wide and Tristan
braced himself for a magical battle between former lovers and
partners.

“Oof.” Ben grunted.

Tristan opened his eyes to see the damage he
couldn’t hear. The little old woman had her arms wrapped around the
old hermit and his staff. His surprise matched Tristan’s as he
looked over her head at the Prince. The younger man turned away as
the old hermits eyes filled with tears, leaving them to their scant
privacy.

~

Mina leaned against the stone banister that
surrounded the wall into her rooms. Her mind raced, its only
comfort was the deep even breathing of her beautiful boy. Since
returning from the north she had been haunted by the images of
cruel animals and savage humans that had been killed by their small
band. While the Princess accepted that the thing had to be done,
both for the safety of her son and the prosperity of the world she
knew, it served little defense when nightmares set upon her as they
did this night.

It had been the better part of a year since
Tristan’s visit and she felt a loneliness that she couldn’t quite
understand. No small part of it was due to how she now she
remembered him; gone was the taint of their union, the manipulation
at the hands of her father and his chief aide. Instead, what now
remained was a dimmed version of what she had felt during their
courting. The passion wasn’t there, but she felt connected to him
and love entered her heart as she watched him play with their
son.

The boy would be approaching his third
Midsummer soon and he was beginning to understand the strange
dynamic of his parents union. She felt guilty that she hadn’t
provided him with a father, but none of the suitors, who came to
court presumably at the bequest of her mother, piqued her interest
as the moody western Prince did. She had been too proud to profess
her feelings when he visited with his lady friend, and now she
heard that they were married. Doubt, more than anything else, had
cost her a great many things.

Regret was much easier to deal with, but the
pain it caused ate away at her day after day. Perhaps she could
talk grandmother into flying her and Jonathan to Kumia so that he
could visit with his father. It wasn’t fair to make him always seek
her out, although it was the last power she held over him and so
she jealously guarded it.

The truth was that despite their meeting, no
man had moved her as Tristan did. For a year she told herself that
it was the power of the spell that had tainted their union. When
the Prince came to visit his son, her feelings again came to the
surface and she knew that no matter how long she lived, or how many
suitors would come to court, no one would look on her and he
did.

“Can’t sleep?” Her mother called from the
garden.

Mina was shaken from her internal conflict as
her mother walked around one of the low palms that gave the
Princess her privacy. The Rajina wore a simple long blue robe of
silk, her hair had been pulled up into a bun and all of her makeup
had yet to be applied. While she didn’t show her age as others did,
without her makeup and hair done she looked ancient to the young
woman.

Mina shook her head. “And you?” She replied
quietly.

Her mother shook her head, offering her hand
to Mina. The Princess walked around the banister and took her
mother’s hand as they walked deeper into the gardens surrounding
Delhi palace. Quietly they enjoyed their walk. Its gardens were
tended daily to keep the wild flowers and beautiful pedals free of
disease and infestations. The smells here were lost on Mina before
her recent quest, and now she reveled in the perfume of the budding
flowers around her. She took joy from the simple blossoming of the
flowers in the faint morning light. They sat together on a stone
bench surrounded by lovely flowers and trees, her mother grasped
her hand with surprising strength.

“What’s troubling you mother?” Mina asked
quietly.

“You are, my dear.” The Rajina answered
her.

Mina turned, looking into her mother’s tear
brimmed eyes. “Why?” She asked.

A single tear broke free and rolled down the
older woman’s face. She reached up and brushed the hair out of her
daughters face, tucking it carefully behind her ear. “You try so
hard and yet keep your heart locked up tight.” She said calmly.
“Why?” The Rajina choked out finally.

The Princess looked up at her mother, tears
gathering in her own eyes as she fought to keep them from falling.
“No man stirs my soul as he does.”

“Perhaps I was wrong then.” Her mother
admitted; wiping away her daughters tears.

Tristan dozed in one of the plush chairs
while Henjis and Stella reunited. He clutched the vial of antidote
in his right hand, trying not to grasp it too tightly as he dreamed
of his wife. So much had been ignored while he quested for her
cure, but he felt savage joy in that time spent. He could have
dismissed the months as a side quest, meeting dwarves, elves and a
curiously sane orc, but he didn’t. Tristan knew the quest had been
one of selfish desire to see his bride safe and unharmed.