Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (33 page)

At least this one is your size.
He
shot sarcastically.

Bethia chuckled darkly as she flipped over,
giving Tristan the perfect chance to strike a blow. As she sped by
Tristan lashed out with his blade. It sliced through the sorcerer’s
protective charm, and gave him a shallow wound along his shoulder.
The Prince grinned in morbid satisfaction as Bethia spun around and
banked hard to the left. Tristan felt his arms get heavy and his
face droop at the cheeks as she pulled herself around with
tremendous force.

Tristan felt power gathering as Bethia pulled
out of her sharp turn and raised his shield just as lightning
collided with it and traveled up his arm. His shoulder twitched in
pain and he lost his grip on the handles of his shield. His arm
hung limp at his side and he cursed as the shield slipped from his
fingers. He looked up to find the sorcerer bearing down on him
again; his staff raised above his head.

Tristan sheathed his sword, pulled his dagger
and threw it as hard as he could as the dragons crashed into each
other. Bolts of lightning cascaded over Bethia’s neck and shoulders
as the mystic dragon lashed out. He could hear the mage curse as a
nimbus of blue light leapt up into his field of vision. Moments
later Bethia belched an enormous column of fire into the face of
the magical purple dragon.

The Prince’s left arm began to tingle as
feeling slowly returned to it, and Tristan drew his sword once
again. Another spell was unleashed and Bethia was blown clear. She
toppled end over end; Tristan had to struggle to keep his hold on
his sword while gripping the horn of the saddle. Bolts of pain
laced up his arm as he forced the previously numb appendage to work
harder than it was ready for.

The mighty red dragon spread her wings and
abruptly stopped their fall with a jarring motion that compressed
Tristan’s spine and made him cry out. She beat her wings and they
seemed to leap back into a grappling battle with the large purple
dragon and its sorcerer rider. Bethia screamed out in his mind as
the mystic dragon used its hind legs to rip several scales off her
stomach and tear into the tender flesh underneath.

Tristan gritted his teeth, trying to block
out the worst of her screaming as he sliced the buckles that held
him to the saddle. Cutting through the last one, Tristan leapt to
his feet and ran up the length of Bethia’s neck. Placing one foot
on the top of her head, he launched himself into the air. The
mystic dragon reared its head up and snapped at him. Bethia drove
her horned forehead into the purple dragons face, snapping its head
back and protecting Tristan. A shower of lightning lit up behind
him, burning some of his hair.

The sorcerer was ready for the Prince’s
attack though, and swung his staff as he rushed towards him.
Tristan ducked under the blow and drove his shoulder into the
mage’s stomach, knocking them both off of the dragons. A single
strange urge rose up in Tristan as they fell to their certain
death. Reaching up he ripped the sorcerers mask off. If he was
going to die, he wanted to see his enemy. His face looked oddly
familiar to Tristan. As the ground rushed up towards them all he
could think of was his family and how sad they’ll all be now. Time
seemed to slow down, as well as their fall.

The sorcerer drove his staff into Tristan’s
neck and the Prince was forced to release his hold on him.
Tristan’s feet hit the ground and he rolled into a large wooden
building, his senses reeled and he struck his head painfully on
something metallic. He rose shakily to his feet, raising his sword
instinctively as another bolt of lightning stuck it. Again the
electric feeling traveled up his arm and his sword nearly fell from
his fingers.

The magician smiled sadistically as blood
covered Tristan’s face from a throbbing head wound. The Prince lost
his balance and fell to one knee as he used his sword to keep
erect. He pulled his hair back with his gloved left hand and rubbed
the blood out of his eyes. The sorcerer walked right in front of
him and used his staff to knock the sword out of Tristan’s weak
hand.

“You lose, dragon spawn.” He said
triumphantly. “Such a pathetic way to go too; knocked senseless by
your own shield.” The sorcerer goaded.

Tristan leaned back on the building behind
him and used it to push himself back to his feet. His surroundings
began to come into focus. He was in the middle of a staging area,
the building behind him was a rolling tower, off to his left half
buried in the mud and muck, was his shield. High above him he could
hear the roars of battle of Bethia and the mystic dragon.

“Who the hell are you?” Tristan grumbled.

Casting him a sinister smirk he replied with
heavy sarcasm. “It wounds me deeply that you don’t recognize my
face.” The sorcerer pulled his hood back, raised his staff and
pinned Tristan’s numb right shoulder to the rolling tower. “Look
closely you filthy half-breed.” He ordered.

If there was anything recognizable about the
man, Tristan was in no shape to find it. His vision blurred and
faded as he fought to remain conscious. The blood from his head
wound ran down his face kept his wits dull. He couldn’t focus long
enough for a quip, having no strength for much else he simply spit
on the man.

The sorcerer growled in reply, using his free
hand to slap Tristan’s face. The Prince smiled in spite of himself.
If he hadn’t cracked his head open this fool would be feasting on
his fist. Instead he merely smiled in reply, drawing another angry
growl from the red robed magician.

“Insolent dog.” The sorcerer replied, once
he’d mastered his own anger. “You killed my mother.” He
accused.

“Ah.” Tristan replied with a grunt. “Another
Rhodes.” He said dismissively.

“Where she failed, Binos will succeed.” He
gloated as he pushed his staff harder into Tristan’s shoulder.

“You realize…” Tristan began with his usual
mocking tone. “…that speaking of yourself in the third person is
the first sign of insanity.”

Binos laughed. “And pray tell, what’s the
second?” He asked with disgust.

“Blinding arrogance.”

Tristan reached out with his left hand and
the dagger secreted in the back of his shield ripped out of its
sheath and flew into his grasp. In one fluid motion he swiped the
blade towards the mage, slicing into his neck. Immediately the
staff dropped from his grip as Binos’ hands clasped around his
gaping neck wound. He tried vainly to staunch the flow as he
dropped to one knee, looking up at Tristan in disbelief.

“If you’re going to kill someone, do it
quickly and without that entire ridiculous preamble.” Tristan
accused.

The Prince wound up and slammed the dagger,
right down to the hilt, into the top of the sorcerers head. “You
can congratulate yourself later.”

Binos’ eyes opened wide in shock as Tristan
kicked the mage backwards with a grunt. The Prince then fell to his
knees as well. His vision began to go gray as the blood loss took
its toll. Above him the sounds of battle had ceased and Tristan was
happy that he had spared Bethia further injury. Prince Tristan
Vallious’ eyes rolled up inside his head as he fell forwards, the
blood loss finally causing him to pass out.

~

“Whatever you do, don’t tell him yet.”
Eurydice warned.

“Euri. He needs to know!” Mina replied in
annoyance and shock. She knew that Euri was probably the kindest
and most even tempered member of her family, so it scared her that
she was now advising against telling Tristan that his wife was
dead.

“Mina. I know you mean well.” Euri continued
empathically. Mina nodded in agreement.

“I know you love him.” The Vallius Princess
blurted. Mina could only stare at her in mute horror.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” Euri
consoled quickly. “But he’s got enough on his mind right now. You
can’t spring this on him now.”

“Fine! But I don’t like it!” Mina scolded as
she rushed off to her room.

She could hear Euri mutter that she didn’t
either, but she was too angry. Angry that Tristan’s quest had
proved as futile as the courtiers jested it was. Almost at once
Mina felt ashamed for her outburst, but she felt that it was
Tristan’s right to know what had transpired and how. Perhaps the
sister of her heart was correct though; there was time later for
such ill news. So the Guisian Princess buried her selfish pride and
rushed to her room to throw on her armor and meet Euri on the tower
as she was asked.

Jonathan was safe with his matron, down in
the catacombs of the palace with the other children. Their mothers
would serve as messengers and bring the soldiers food should they
end up defending the palace walls, which if Euri was correct at the
size of the invaders army, was a certainty. Mina had hoped that
their mission into the birthing crèches would severely hamper the
invaders force, but clearly they had thousands more adults than
youths.

She was in and out of her room as quickly as
possible, still lacing up her trousers as she half-ran through the
palace. After their mission into the swamplands of the north, Lesa
had two makeshift suits of armor made for the two young Princesses.
Mina had found it odd, reasoning that her fighting was at an end,
however in retrospect she should have known better. By the time she
reached the tower she was out of breath and had a stitch in her
side that burned whenever she inhaled. Even so, she clambered up on
her grandmothers back. Lesariu chuckled as she leapt into the air,
forcing Mina to scream slightly as she held fast to the large
bronze dragons’ scales.

Tristan flew up beside them on his red
dragon, though her name escaped Mina. Euri and he spoke briefly and
then his gaze met hers. His eyes traveled up and down her armor,
coming to rest briefly on her
Dragon’s Fist
. Mina tried to
smile, wishing him good fortune as the ladies in the sagas did, but
she failed miserably. His life had been marked with pain, tragedy
and betrayal. Her knuckled turned white grasping the bronze scales
beneath her as she fought to not reach out to him.

Just as quickly as he caught up to them, he
was gone again. Mina watched in amazement as he and the red dragon
joined the battle, distracting the misty purple dragon as they flew
past. She quickly lost track of him though, as arrows whistled past
her ears so close that they pulled her hair along with them.
Lesariu pulled into a steep dive, belching fire on the archers
occupying one of the rolling towers.

The men tumbled out of the building, though
the tower itself seemed impervious to the fire that Lesariu and
Socolis continued to barrage it with. After three or four passes,
the bronze and white dragon gave up trying to light the towers on
fire. Instead, Socolis landed on one of the towers and belched fire
down one of its opening. Jets of orange and red flame exploded out
of the portholes as soldiers screamed and tried in vain to escape
the inferno.

The pair of dragons then grabbed hold of the
tower and lifted it high off the ground. Farther north the main
elements of the army were gathered; they swung the tower playfully
and then tossed it into the heart of the host. The pair of them
chuckled darkly as they banked away from the main army and back
towards the wall, where they landed. A large man stepped forward
and exchanged words with Eurydice before saluting her and stalking
off to continue overseeing his men.

Mina would have paid closer attention if it
had not been for the sight that she be held on the horizon. Coming
towards them at great speed were dozens of misty purple dragons.
Some of them seemed larger than others, and the largest of them
bore riders much like the one Tristan fought high above their
heads. Even now, looking up, Mina could see the mighty red dragon
pulling into a tight turn as lightning bolts narrowly missed her
scaly hide.

“Hello little one!” A voice called from above
them.

Mina looked up to see the King of Dragon’s
land next to Socolis. On his back rode a man that surely must have
been King Dion of Vallius, he looked so much like Tristan after
all. Landing next to him on the back of a large blue dragon was
clearly their mother, the Queen Annadora. Eurydice favored her in
appearance. She regarded Mina with a warm smile.

“You must be Princess Mina.” She said kindly.
“I’m sorry we didn’t met under better circumstances.” The Queen
said with a wink.

Eurydice favored her in
personality too. Mina smiled widely as she laughed with the Queen.
Such a family, she mused.
You are like a daughter to us
Mykl.
Mina felt inside her mind, the tone and gentle touch of
it made it unmistakably Annadora’s thought. Tried as she might she
could not thank the Queen with her mind, but she could feel her
understanding as a tear gathered in the Guisians Princess’s
eye.

I try not to pry into people’s minds my
dear, but surely this cannot be true.
The Queen asked in
shock.

Mina had been caught thinking about the still
and bloody form of Tristan’s wife. Even now she couldn’t bring
herself to think of her name, simply how much she meant to the
father of her child. She tried to think of the orc she’d found and
dealt with, as well as sparing her son the sight of a brutally
murdered step-mother. Mina also tried mightily to bring up Euri’s
warning in her memories, unsure if she was succeeding in what she
hoped to communicate.

I understand Mykl. We will deal with this
tragedy later.
Annadora soothed, looking wide eyed at the
gathering host of orcs and their creatures.
Assuming we all
survive, of course.
She added wryly.

The smaller mystic dragons approached the
wall before the larger ones baring riders did and Mina prepared
herself for the launch into flight. Instead of the expected leap,
hundreds of little dragons flew over their heads with great speed.
A rainbow of attacking little lizards swarmed all over the misty
purple dragons. Green, Red, Blue, Silver, Black, White and Bronze
dragons, all of varying shapes and sizes roared in challenge. The
four elder dragons roared in reply from the top of the wall. So
loud was their war cry that Mina had to put her hands up to her
ears.