Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (31 page)

Images flashed in his mind’s eye. Children
and grandchildren were his reminders of a life that could possibly
resemble normality, if only he could save his wife. Tristan
wondered how long Draconis’ magic could keep her alive, if time had
little meaning or if he was already too late. Doubt, as always,
threatened to rise up and overwhelm him. If he let his defenses
down for but a moment his doubts would cripple him, rendering even
his immortality useless. The Prince felt tired, so very tired.

He hadn’t slept properly in so long that he
couldn’t remember what it was like to have a peaceful sleep. His
dreams were troubling visions of battles and confrontations that
threatened not only his life, but the lives of everyone he loved.
He would rest for what felt like fleeting moments, only to awaken
in a cold sweat.

“Tristan?” Stella asked uncertainly.

The Princes eyes snapped open as he regarded
the old woman. “What is it?”

She looked uncomfortably at Ben before
answering. “You were yelling, boy.” She said quietly.

He must have dozed off again, and then
interrupted their reunion with his non-sense. Feeling instantly
guilty he averted his eyes from their penetrating stares.
“Sorry.”

Ben reached out his hand uncertainly and
patted Tristan’s’ arm. “S’alright lad. Are you ready?” He
asked.

“Ready?” Tristan asked, still
disoriented.

“It’ll be slow going. I’m afraid I’m not as
young as I once was.” Ben admitted with a chuckle as he began to
glow and change back into the large black dragon Henjis.

“How do I?” Stella asked in surprise. Clearly
she was still dealing with the reality that the man she loved
wasn’t a man at all.

Tristan patiently taught her which scales to
grab and where to place her feet, she was a quick leaner and
scampered up onto Henjis’ back with surprising agility. In no time
they flew out of the cave and into the pre-dawn gloom. The Prince
had no concept of time in the cave; he could have sworn it was
closer to noon hour. Mentally shrugging, he showed Stella how to
lean closer to Henjis’ neck to keep warm in the cool morning.

A strange sensation crawled through Tristan,
something close to panic rose up inside him and he couldn’t figure
out why. He turned his head to the north-west and saw nothing but
ocean, to the south-east was the same, in front of them loomed the
coast of Guis and Vallius and behind them the rocky cliffs of Deus
faded away. Then something alien caught his eye, soaring over the
cliffs and approaching with incredible speed came the largest
dragon Tristan had ever seen.

Um, Henjis?
Tristan sent.

I feel him. It’s a dragon of spell
craft.
The black dragon replied dismissively. The Prince felt
the great black dragon’s response though as he picked up speed and
gained altitude.

Why are we climbing?
Tristan
asked.

If I drop you I’ll have plenty of time to
catch you.
Henjis answered seriously.

Tristan would have laughed, but somehow the
old black dragon’s tone was the most serious he’d ever heard any
dragon use. The Prince wrapped his arms around the old sorceress
and grabbed hold of a scale with each hand. He had to shout to tell
her about the dragon. From the expression on her face and the color
that had drained from it, the mystical dragon was the largest she’d
ever seen as well. Faster and faster the elder black dragon climbed
until they were just under gathering storm clouds. The deep purple
of the clouds almost obscured the magical dragon, and yet it seemed
to still be gaining speed and closing the distance between it and
Henjis.

The wind screamed past their ears, pulling
the leather tie out of Tristan’s hair as the cool air stung his
eyes and lungs. Breaths were shallow and painful, his joints and
arms ached with the strain of holding them on the mighty dragons
back. They were quickly approaching the coast and Tristan could
feel the pressure of Bethia’s thoughts touch his own. Somehow it
made him feel safer for her presence. Henjis banked into a steep
dive as rain began to fall.

Tristan’s eyes shot open as Stella’s weight
disappeared from in front of him. The old woman was still there, a
nimbus of golden light danced around her and it appeared to be
holding her fast to the back of the black dragon. As though it had
been the plan all along, Tristan let go of the scales keeping him
on the back of Henjis.

At inhuman speed he slid down the great black
dragons back reached the tail. Henjis flexed , tossing Tristan into
the air and leaving him feeling as though he was stuck in the air
momentarily. Then the Prince began to fall in earnest as he
instinctively spread his arms and legs out to slow his fall as much
as possible.

Like a ballet dancer, Bethia glid in
underneath him and he grasped a hold of the horn of his saddle. He
pulled himself down into the saddle and urged her into pursuit
after the purple dragon. Henjis spread his wings wide, stopping
himself almost instantly. Tristan could see Stella casting spells
from his back as he turned and engaged the mystic dragon.

We must help them!
Tristan urged
Bethia.

How? My fire would engulf them and you
have only your blades.
She asked him, feeling the same desire
as he but knowing that they could do nothing but harm.

Think you could catch me again?
He
asked.

Of course.
Bethia replied evenly.

Throw me.
Tristan commanded her as he
began slowly sliding down her back.

That’s crazy!
She accused.

Probably why it’ll work.
He laughed
back at her.

Bethia snorted black smoke in reply as she
picked up speed. Tristan held onto the end of her tail with all of
his strength as she twisted and turned to the left, flinging him
off her tail towards the mystical dragon that was locked in battle
with Henjis and Stella. At first Tristan’s arms and legs flailed
uselessly as he tried desperately to direct his body towards the
battle. Eventually he regained some control over his fall and drew
his sword and dagger.

Henjis twisted slightly, bringing he and his
wife between Tristan and the purple dragon. The Prince cursed as he
readjusted his descent and landed at a run on the mighty black
dragon’s back. Tristan ran the length of the elder dragon, leaping
over the sorceress and jumped off Henjis’ neck. He brought his
blades up as he let forth all the frustration and anger from the
better part of the last year into an animalistic scream.

The red robed sorcerer who rode the back of
the mystic dragon looked up as Tristan brought his sword and dagger
up to their opposite shoulders. Using all the strength he could
muster he brought both blades forward and severed the magicians
head from his shoulders. The sorcerer’s mask and hood flew away as
his head toppled off a body still being held by the mystical purple
dragon. As Tristan cleared the dragon an explosion rang in his
ears, blasting him forward, flipping end over end.

Eventually the Prince righted himself and
landed on a gliding Bethia beneath him. Tristan turned in his
saddle to see what transpired only to see a smoldering and scared
Henjis falling from the sky. Smoke trailed off the elder dragon as
he tumbled through the air, above him a smaller body also smoldered
as it fell. He tried to reach out and touch the old dragon’s mind,
only to find darkness as profound as any he’d experienced
before.

He’s gone.
Bethia answered his
thoughts.

I know. I just hoped…

They fought for what they believed in. No
one could have done more.
She observed.

I think it’s time to go home.
Tristan
said somberly.

Bethia beat her wings slowly, hovering as the
pair of them watched the mighty black dragon fall. Tristan smirked
in spite of himself, remembering the last time the black dragon had
saved him and then an intense sadness gripped him as he realized
this was the last time the elder would come to his rescue. A
distant splash, followed by a smaller one marked the end of his
musings as the large red dragon turned and set off for Kumia
palace.

A short time Lesariu and Socolis joined later
Bethia and Tristan. The Prince could feel their grief at the
passing of Henjis, though they refused to comment on it beyond
‘
it was his time’
. Tristan couldn’t help but feel that it
was a hallow sentiment, but he kept his comments to himself. Death
had never been something that he dealt with well at the best of
times. The three dragons flew along the updrafts and remembered
their fallen brother in silence.

Bethia had no sooner touched down on the
highest tower in Kumia palace when Tristan leaped from her back and
set off running to his wife’s side. Servants quickly overcame their
surprise at seeing their ruler running like a madman and jumped
aside, to get out of his way. He skidded into turns in the hallways
and slid to a halt outside of his bedroom.

The door was open and Euri sat reading a
scroll to his wife. Tristan glanced at the guard standing in the
hallway and then walked into the room quietly. His sister looked up
from her scroll and smiled warmly at her older brother. Despite his
need to see his wife awake and well he couldn’t help but ask;

“When did you get here?”

Euri smiled slightly. “Last night. Your son
missed you so I brought he and Mina along for a visit. I thought
you could use family after the last few months you’ve had.”

For so long Tristan fought to control his
emotions, to focus on finding his wife a cure. He locked them all
away and dealt with everything inside, keeping everyone at a
distance. The last vestiges of his strength fell away from him,
leaving him as weak as when he first woke from the
Nightmare
Spell
. Tristan slowly walked forward as the sting of tears
began to run down his face. Eurydice rushed forward and embraced
her older brother. He could barely choke out his thanks as she
guided him to the comfortable chair at his wife’s bedside.

Gently she took the vial of antidote from him
and walked around the other side of the bed. She put her arm behind
Maggie’s head and carefully lifted her head to the brim of the
vial. Slowly she tilted back the vial until all of its contents ran
down his wife’s throat. Euri closed her eyes briefly and muttered
something in draconic.

A blanket of light blue light winked out of
existence as Maggie’s eyes opened. She drew a long shuttering
breath and turned her head towards Tristan. Her beautiful smile was
burned into his mind before she promptly passed out. He looked up
at Eurydice in alarm as his little sister held her hand over his
wife’s head.

“She’s fine.” Euri announced. “She
sleeps.”

Tristan leaned back in the chair, burying his
face in his hands as he sighed in relief. His shoulders sagged as
he finally relaxed after months of intense searching and odd sort
of giddiness gripped him. The Prince found himself laughing while
tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Euri came back around the
bed and stood behind his chair, running her little hands through
his hair and offering comforting words. After a few minutes he
finally regained control of his emotions. Sensing his change in
mood Euri playfully came around the chair and leaped onto his
lap.

“Oof.” Tristan exclaimed. “You’re not a
little girl anymore you know.”

“Oh nice!” She shot back hugging him tightly
around the neck.

“Ahem.” Called a deep voice from the doorway.
“I assume she’s going to recover?” Kevin asked with a smile.

“Kevin!” Euri yelled, leaping off Tristan’s
lap and running across the room. She jumped into a fierce hug
around her eldest brother’s enormous neck.

Tristan rose and walked towards the door,
motioning for everyone to clear out into the hall. Kevin and Euri
smiled as the three of them set off down the hall towards the main
dining hall, suddenly Tristan was ravenous.

~

His mission was simple. Sneak into the
palace, assassinate the dragon spawns wife and then anyone else he
happened upon. It was a suicide mission but the orc captain was
honored to have been chosen by the Sorcerer King and his Legate to
undertake it. Should he succeed it would create the opening the
Legate needed to breach the Great Wall. The captain’s name would be
recorded and when he left this world to join the Immortal Horde he
would be granted many gifts.

The captain didn’t like to think of the other
price he paid, though whenever he looked into his gleaming sword he
could clearly see the pale pink face, brown hair, and ugly blue
eyes. Thanks to the sorcerer his proud tusks were gone, the
powerful jaw and black clawed hands. His bulging muscles, much like
the dragon spawns brother, had been altered to appear small, pink
and decidedly…weak. The sorcerer had explained though, it was an
illusion. He still possessed his strength and speed…despite this
ugly shell.

The three siblings walked past, each holding
onto one another in a disgusting display of affection. It was a
weak human infliction where they felt the need to
touch
one
another. His own childhood had been spent eating raw meat, training
in combat and undergoing dangerous magical transformations to
accelerate his growth both in mind and body. What marked him as a
commander was his ability to strike fear and awe into his
crèche-mates.

He was easily the largest orc from his crèche
and one of the few who survived the dangerous growth acceleration.
Such was the price for service to the One God. He Who Was Above All
would ensure that his sacrifice earned him a place in the inner
legion of the Immortal Horde. But such thoughts distracted him from
his mission. Grumbling to himself he turned and walked into the
Prince and Princess of Terum’s bed chamber.