Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (4 page)

Usually, around this time of year, the snows
began in earnest this far west and drifts gathered at the foot of
keep walls deep enough to lose a dragon in. Tristan had been
considering traveling to Guis for a few weeks. Largely due to the
letter he’d received from Rajina Peria a few months ago demanding,
in a comical way, for the Prince to show up in person and explain
his tardiness in meeting his own son.

Tristan had planned to take Maggie and Frose
with him. The trouble was that traveling by horseback in the middle
of winter just wasn’t something any of them were looking forward
to. Already the snows had conspired to mask the roads out of
Kenting, and the Western Road was completely covered with drifts as
high as Tristan’s waist.

“Thinking of finally taking Lesariu up on her
offer to visit your son?” Alison asked.

Tristan smiled, he hadn’t thought of
traveling by dragon. He wasn’t really sure why he kept finding
excuses to avoid meeting his son. Perhaps it was the way things had
been left with Mina, the circumstances of his son’s birth, his
relationship with Maggie; unfortunately the list grew by the day it
seemed. However, it was likely the boy didn’t know anything about
Tristan and that made the young Prince nervous. The lad would be
about two-years old, and perhaps enough time had passed that he and
Mina could put aside their issues for the child’s sake.

“I was thinking about it.” Tristan admitted.
“But I was hoping you’d let me steal Nathan’s matron away from you
for a month or so.”

Immediately he wished he hadn’t asked that
out loud. As he expected Alison cast him another of her knowing
smiles, Kevin whooped and Maggie dropped the peach slice she had
been nibbling on. How Tristan loathed attention, though it seemed
to track him down like a starving predator.

That night after Kevin’s council had met,
Tristan dragged Sergeant Frose aside.

“I’m taking you with me to Guis this time.”
Tristan announced. Frose simply nodded his understanding as Tristan
continued. “I don’t want any heroic non-sense out of you.” Tristan
scolded.

Sergeant Frose used his middle finger to
scratch an imaginary itch on his nose as he replied; “You do know
whose soldier I was, don’t you my Lord?” He said with a mocking
evil glare.

The three of them gathered on the tallest
tower of Kenting Keep two days later. Despite the cold, Tristan
chuckled at the memory of the rest of the fight he’d been forced to
have with Frose, a half-hearted one at best of course. The only
concession he seemed to be able to get was that Frose would sleep
in the next room with the door locked, which confused Tristan, as
he couldn’t remember asking for such a thing. The Sergeant merely
smirked when Tristan admitted his confusion only to receive a
friendly slap on the back once with a brisk nod.

Lesariu
. The Prince called out with
his mind.

The past year had revealed a few interesting
skills. The first of which was that he could now communicate with
his mother and sister through his mind. Although they were both in
Metao, he was able to call their names with his mind when he needed
to clarify snippets of memory that kept surfacing at the strangest
moments. He also seemed to have the ability to use the same
communication with the greater dragons as well. At odd times,
snippets of conversations would intrude on his own thoughts, though
he kept these to himself. It was nice to know the mundane things
happening with the dragons, though he couldn’t verbalize why it was
so.

~

Five months ago Terum forces crested one of
Tristan’s forward positions and the Prince found himself face to
face with a dangerously quick mercenary brandishing two wicked
looking jagged short swords. Between parrying one slash and
blocking another, an image of a large red dragon flashed into his
mind’s eye. Sergeant Frose had stepped forward and pulled Tristan
back, sending the young Prince tumbling backwards. As Tristan
tumbled down the incline he could vividly remember a conversation
he had never had on a tall tower with a woman with bright red hair,
and an even brighter red gown.

“Take care of Bethia, my young friend.” She
asked desperately.

He tried to place the emotions and
surrounding as best as he could, though the location was completely
alien to him. The woman in red struck him as a mother pleading for
the safety of her child.

Later that day, after they had established a
solid front, Tristan had tried to call on Socolis, Lesariu and
Draconis. A few hours later a tall man in a silver robe was
escorted into his command tent. Drake, as Draconis preferred to be
called in his human form, smiled as he sat down opposite his
grandson. He wore a robe that fit tightly to his torso, and flowed
out at the hips, small patterns appeared to be sewn into the fabric
creating a robe that was more art than apparel.

“You called my boy?” He asked bemused.

Tristan chuckled, amazed that his abilities
continued to grow, months ago he wouldn’t have been able to
communicate with the dragon unless he was standing right in front
of him. Although, considering the dragon was here, and hadn’t
answered back through his mind, his skill wasn’t nearly as far
along as Euri or his mother was.

“Who’s Bethia?” Tristan asked without
preamble.

Drake considered the question for a moment,
clearly trying to remember the name. Finally, his eyes widened
slightly as he asked; “How do you know that name?” He blurted.

“I don’t know. It came to me in a waking
dream.” Tristan explained.

“Tell me.” Drake instructed.

The Prince outlined the situation that led to
the dream, and then the vision he had of the woman in red on a
tower. When he was finished, Drake leaned back in his chair
considering the information and gathering his thoughts.

“You, more than any other mortal, know dragon
history I believe?” He asked.

“Henjis told me how dragons came to live here
if that’s what you mean?” Tristan replied questioningly.

“Not exactly, but you’re on the right track.”
Drake admitted, the man sighed slightly as he made himself more
comfortable. “Dragons can only reproduce with the proper mix.” He
explained. “Certain dragons can’t mate; black and white for
example.” He said.

“Because of this, dragon spawn are few and
far between. However, now that our magic has returned to us, the
hatchlings will survive their birthing cycle.” Drake
instructed.

“They didn’t before?” Tristan blurted.

Drake shook his head; “No. Without our magic
we couldn’t hatch the eggs without damaging the baby inside. Those
details are unimportant.” He dismissed. “Though, if you ask, maybe
a dragon mother will allow you to witness it one day.” He
offered.

Tristan was surprised; he had assumed that
dragons simply couldn’t mate without magic. Instead the opposite
was true, they could mate, but any eggs resulting from that matting
wouldn’t survive. It was no small wonder the dragons dispersed and
took to hiding, Tristan mused. The pain of losing her children was
something the Prince’s mother always feared more than all else. The
pain for dragons must have been incredible.

“It was.” Drake replied evenly, reading
Tristan’s thoughts.

The man sighed, gathering his thoughts again.
“Bethia was the product of Socolis and Kumanius’ mating.” He
explained. “Fifteen eggs were produced, but that was around the
same time as Dragon Magic began to fade, shortly after your birth I
believe.”

Drake rubbed his face with his left hand,
sighing at the memory, but continuing despite the painful past.
“Socolis sent out a call to us all, even Henjis answered.” He
chuckled. “Combined we were able to save one of Kumanius’
hatchlings.” He took another deep breath. “To understand the rest,
you need to know a little bit more dragon lore Tristan.” Drake
admitted.

“A dragon cannot rise to patron of a country
until they reach a certain maturity, typically at least one hundred
years of age. Bethia won’t reach that age for another eighty years,
so until then Terum is in flux, being neither what it originally
was, nor what Kumanius made it.” He revealed. “There are only four
of us remaining; you have yet to meet Raithia. She’s less inclined
to trust humans these days. Ryanite was her brother.” He
explained.

At the height of
The Bane’s
power,
large groups of dragon slayers under the command of dark sorcerers
hunted down a slew many dragons, most of which were barely
hatchlings in their own right. One of their earliest and more
terrible victories had the death of a greater green dragon,
Ryanite.

“We each take it in turn to keep Terum from
becoming the volcanic wasteland it used to be, however we each have
countries of our own to oversee.” Drake admitted.

Tristan was thunderstruck. He couldn’t
dismiss what he was being told, largely because his grandfather had
never been false with him, but also because everything he was being
told rang with truth within his own memories.

“So where is she?” Tristan asked.

“Kumanius or Bethia?” Drake asked.

“Both.” Tristan answered with a wry grin.

“Kumanius is dead. Hunted down and murdered
by
The Bane’s
slayers.” He admitted sadly. “Bethia, we don’t
know. Henjis was her guardian, but after she witnessed what he was
doing she fled.” Drake replied. “She could be anywhere.” He
concluded.

“So until I’m on my death-bed I’ll be
fighting.” Tristan asked darkly.

“Most likely,” Drake replied with a wry grin.
“But not for the reason you think.”

“You’re speaking in riddles again
grandfather.” Tristan said with a chuckle.

“Clearly you don’t remember what having
dragon blood in your veins means.” He offered as Tristan shook his
head. “You’ll live a little longer than the normal human span of
years my boy.” Drake informed him dryly.

“How much longer?” Tristan asked with
foreboding interest.

“Assuming you don’t get yourself killed,” He
began whimsically. “A few hundred years isn’t unheard of.” He
answered lightly.

~

The Prince was shaken from his reverie as
Maggie clutched his gloved hand with her own, pointing off into the
distance. A long serpent-like dragon lazily looped along towards
them, playing with the snow as it fell from the grey clouds.
Tristan chuckled, hearing her glee in his mind.

Quit showing off…
He scoffed through
his mind.

I’ve earned a little fun time, thank
you.
She replied laughing.

Try not to flip with these two on your
back.
He chuckled in return.
Unless of course you plan on
taking a bath before changing.

Lesariu laughed out loud as she landed
lightly on the tower parapet. Maggie and Frose took an involuntary
step backwards, clearly intimidated by the large bronze dragon.

“Don’t worry my friends.” She soothed. “I’ve
already eaten today.” Lesariu said with a wink as she lowered
herself.

Tristan laughed as he motioned for the others
to mount up. They both looked around in confusion, clearly unsure
of how best to proceed. Finally, Maggie’s hand reached up
tentatively, shaking as she grabbed a hold of a plate and pulled
herself up onto the bronze dragon’s back. Frose did likewise, with
equal trepidation. Tristan leapt nimbly up closest to her neck. The
dragon chuckled as she effortlessly spread her wings and took
flight.

So where are we headed my young
friend?
She asked.

I thought I might visit my son.
Tristan replied whimsically.

Lesariu chuckled in his mind.
About time
too.
She mused.

That’s assuming of course that Mina will
allow me to.
He thought darkly.

Things have greatly changed in Delhi since
your last visit.
Lesariu explained.
I think you’ll find a
warm reception if I’m not greatly mistaken.
She soothed.

Maggie’s arms clamped almost painfully around
Tristan’s waist as Lesariu picked up speed. The Prince turned his
head to see how she fared and laughed loudly. While Maggie was
frightened, she still had her eyes open in wonder as she watched
the country she knew so well sped by below her. Sergeant Frose on
the other hand grasped onto the scales of the dragons back as
though his life depended on them. His face was drawn and white, and
his eyes were shut tightly as he muttered prayers to his God’s for
protection.

Your friend doesn’t seem to like flying
much.
Lesariu laughed in Tristan’s mind.

Slowly, the white snowdrifts gave way to
green grass and dense farmlands, which in turn gave way to desert
oases and enormous cities. Lesariu playfully dipped and coasted
between the large spires of Delhi city, laughing as she sensed her
passengers growing fear. Tristan had never ridden a dragon quite
this far before and if it wasn’t for the shifting plates cutting
into his legs where his greaves didn’t protect him, he would have
been content to ride for some time more.

As it was, when Lesariu landed, Tristan was
happy to leap lightly from her back. The great bronze dragon had
landed in one of the larger courtyards of the palace. Fountains
surrounded their landing spot and little waves splashed over the
lips of the pools as the water settled back down into the ponds.
She lowered herself as Maggie, still a little shaken from the trip,
held out her hand for Tristan to help her down. Sergeant Frose took
a deep steadying breath before opening his eyes and quickly
scrambled off the great dragons back. Lesariu chuckled lightly at
his discomfort. A flash of white light punctuated her change into
an attractive woman in a golden dress.

Maggie gapped at the dragon’s transformation,
and Frose took an alarmed step back. Tristan laughed with Lesa as
she slowly moved forward and encircled her arm around Sergeant
Froses’. The Prince held out his arm as Maggie regained some of her
composure and took it, her arm still shaking.