Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (5 page)

“A dragon’s back is one of the safest ways to
travel.” He informed her.

“Gods!” Sergeant Frose exclaimed. “I’d rather
sail.” He muttered darkly.

“Welcome back young man.” A woman called from
the steps of the palace.

Tristan turned to find Peria standing on the
lowest step, looking upon him warmly. He untwined his arm from
Maggie’s and stepped forward, affecting a low bow.

“Rajina, it is an honor to visit your country
again.” He said formally.

“Bah! Enough of that pompous non-sense!” She
shouted with a laugh. “Come give an old lady a hug!” Peria
ordered.

The Prince laughed as he stepped forward and
was pulled into a bear hug of surprising strength. The older woman
laughed as she patted him on the back. Holding him away at arm’s
length, she inspected him briefly.

“You’ve grown into that armor well.” She
complimented.

“It got wet and shrunk.” He joked
sarcastically.

Peria laughed heartily as she nodded her head
behind Tristan. “Who are your guests?” She asked.

Tristan indicated Maggie, “This is my close
friend,”

“Your woman you mean.” Peria interrupted,
causing Tristan to blush slightly.

The Rajina stepped forward and grasped
Maggie’s hands. “It fills my heart with joy to see him happy.” She
said with a smile.

The Prince cleared his throat dramatically,
nodding his head to Frose. “This vagabond is Sergeant-Major
Frose.”

Frose stepped forward, offering as low a bow
as he could muster and still keep his bile down. Peria looked at
him sympathetically, laughing.

“Mother, you know not everyone likes your
flying.” She chastised Lesa.

The golden-gowned woman stepped forward and
embraced her older looking daughter. “You are looking well my
child.” Lesa said with a smile.

“Lesa!” A familiar voice called from the
palace entrance.

Eurydice ran down the steps of the palace and
embraced Lesa, smiling mischievously at her older brother.

“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked,
still surprised.

Euri released her hold on Lesa and embraced
her brother. “Nice to see you Euri. I missed you Euri. Long time no
see Euri. You sure know how to make a girl feel welcome brother.”
She chastised with a laugh.

“Sorry.” Tristan replied, returning the
embrace. He held her at arm’s length, looking at her. In the last
year she’d grown considerably. “It’s good to see you little one.”
He said finally. “Now. What are you doing here?” He asked with mock
seriousness.

“Just because you’ve been too busy to visit
your son doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” She accused, pointing
her finger at his chest.

Tristan held his hands up in supplication,
laughing at the display. He introduced everyone to each other as he
held out his arm to Maggie. Peria led them into the palace and down
some all too familiar halls. The Prince’s nerves were on end, he
wasn’t precisely sure how he was going to deal with his feelings
about Mina and their child. For months he had put off the visit for
this very reason, finding every excuse he could invent to remain in
Kenting.

If it had not been for the letter, sent
partially in annoyance even though the Rajina was above such
emotions, he would have found yet another excuse to put off the
reunion. Euri was busy chatting with Maggie; the two of them
gossiping happily about Gods knew what, so Tristan was free to let
his eyes and his mind wander as Peria led them towards the Imperial
apartments.

Delhi had changed very little; the only
noticeable difference was the guards no longer carried a myriad of
weapons. Each of them held a razor tipped spear in their right hand
and a simple club on their hip. Their uniforms were different as
well, clearly influenced by Peria’s taste for bright colors. Each
of them wore a bright orange vest and gaudy purple flowing pants.
All of them, likewise adorned in a simple golden chain around their
necks, a stripped orange and purple sash around their waists and
black boots with an elongated toe in the Guisian fashion.

The gardens they walked through were a riot
of colors and scents as they were before, though now it seemed as
though they organized based on scent as much as color. Some of the
larger ponds had large flowers floating on their calm surfaces,
only adding to the smell and beauty of the area.

As they walked around a rather large tree,
Tristan caught the smell of a familiar perfume in the air. His
heart jumped up into his throat as they cleared the tree to find
Mina sitting on a large piece of silk draped over the lush lawn. A
small pale boy played with a rather large stuffed tiger. He made
roaring sounds as he pranced the animal around to his mother’s
amusement.

Memories of the time he and Mina had spent
together came flooding back to the Prince. Instead of the pain he’d
felt at learning her feelings for him were the result of a spell
her father’s aide had cast on her, he felt oddly buoyant. She
looked up as her mother approached with her guests and smiled
warmly as she called the young child over to her.

Tristan sat down slowly, almost methodically
as he broke eye contact with the mother of his child. Remembering
all too well the pain he had caused her, despite it not being of
his creation. He looked from the boy to her, and she smiled wider
for him, nodding her head briefly in greeting.

“Jonathan.” She called as the little boy
looked up. “This is your father.” Mina announced.

Tristan looked at the boy, memorizing every
detail of his appearance. He had Tristan’s hazel eyes, the first
thing he noticed. His ears were large, as Tristan’s had been. Even
at this young age, his intelligence was obvious as he scrutinized
his father. The tiger had stopped prancing about as Jonathan
regarded his father; his little features squinted as he tilted his
head to the side.

“Jonathan?” Tristan asked her.

“It was mothers’ idea.” Mina offered. “She
said there was a handsome young scoundrel in a bard’s troupe she’d
known by that name.”

Tristan laughed. “Scoundrel?” Attempting to
look properly scandalized.

The young boy stood up on shaky legs,
regarding Tristan quizzically. He stumbled over to his father,
pausing every few steps to re-evaluate the Prince. The Prince
watched in fascination as the boy sat down with an audible
‘oof’
in front of him. He turned his head slightly to the
side again, a searching look on his young face.

Daddy?
Tristan felt in his mind.

The Prince’s head snapped over to Lesa and
Eurydice who stood a short way off. He stared at them in wide-eyed
shock as Lesa smiled and Euri answered his unspoken question.

“Talented, isn’t he?” She asked with a
smirk.

Tristan sighed quietly. He couldn’t force
himself to sleep, though he found that he was tired beyond measure.
The day’s events had simply been too emotional drain. Between the
revelations of his son, his mother seeming to have completely dealt
with their past and Maggie’s support, he was exhausted. His eyes
were closed and his breathing controlled as he attempted to calm
his mind, though thousands of questions and worries clogged his
mind. Maggie stirred slightly at his side, curled up as she dozed
comfortably in the moonlight coming in from the window.

The Prince was awestruck that the boy could
communicate so easily, and at such a young age. He thought that
mind speech must be something common for dragon offspring. When he
asked Euri about it though, she told him that she only learnt how
to speak with her mind when their mother taught her. Jonathan had
no such teacher. The prophecy ran over and over in Tristan’s mind
as he quietly rose from their bed. He drew a simple silk robe
around himself and walked over to the archway that served as the
large window from their apartment out into a beautiful courtyard.
The moon was bright and high in the sky illuminating the pond in
front of him.

Slowly, he walked along the smooth stone path
until he found a bench to brood on near the pond. The mist from the
fountain cooled him, as even at night, the oppressive Guisian heat
was far more than he was comfortable with. This pond smelt vaguely
of roses and lilies, it calmed him as he wrestled with the demons
of his past. Jonathan had been born of deceit and manipulation. It
chaffed at Tristan’s pride and his conscience. The boy should be
raised in a more traditional manner, and surely not without a
father.

Over the past weeks Maggie had come to mean a
great deal to him and he was loath to see the relationship end. As
always though, his duty had to come first. He had trouble
reconciling between that duty and what his heart wanted, but the
most terrifying thing was the possibility that they may be one in
the same. It had become a bittersweet feeling in his throat and he
raged inside, trying to find the answers to the riddles of
life.

“I still say thoughtfulness is the best side
effect of that spell.” Lesa said wistfully as she stepped out of
the shadows.

“Reading my mind?” Tristan asked, not at all
surprised to find the dragon in human form wandering around the
palace gardens.

Lesa smiled as she shrugged. “Not that I have
to. Your concerns are mine.” She said simply.

The Prince took a steadying breath. “The
child was born due to a manipulation. Whatever he will become is
tempered by that falsehood.” Tristan explained with great
humility.

Lesa put her hand on his shoulder as she sat
down beside him. “What you say is true.” She admitted. “But try to
remember something.”

The dragon in human form used her strength to
turn the Prince so they faced each other. “What you have become is
tempered by magical manipulation as well.” She explained, as she
looked him deeply in the eyes. “We are what we strive to be. It’s
not about where you come from; it’s about what you do with your
life.” Lesa advised.

Tristan took a deep breath, staring off into
the fountain. “I hope you’re right.”

She sighed as she quietly added; “I hope so
too.”

~

Not for the first time in the two weeks
Tristan had been in Delhi, a fight broke out after breakfast. While
he and Mina controlled their tempers for their sons sake in his
presence, as soon as they were out of earshot they yelled at one
another until they were hoarse. Mina planned for the boy to attend
Delhi University, but Tristan reasoned that if the prophecy were to
come true he would need a more worldly education than painting and
writing.

More than once the arguments had to be
moderated by Lesa and Peria who could understand both of the
parents’ points of view and refused to pick a side. Which, of
course, only served to intensify the battles; which is how Tristan
thought of these shouting matches now. If he gave the girl an inch,
she wanted the whole bloody country and he simply refused to allow
her to steam roll over his wishes for his son.

There was simply no middle ground to be found
and after he offered a concession to the girl, in the hopes she
would offer him a concession, she would renew her ranting on the
proper way for Guisian Princes to be raised. The images of orcs,
trolls, ogres, giants and other unsavory creatures, not to mention
the armies of men and mages were just too alien to Mina for her to
have a proper reference for Tristan’s’ arguments.

As this particular argument reached a fever
pitch, Lesa turned herself back into a great bronze dragon and
grasped both of them painfully in her talons. She flew quickly to
the west, extending her magic to protect them from the worst of the
elements, as their silken garments were little to protect them from
the cold. Lesariu reasoned that their tempers could use a good
cooling at any rate and certainly didn’t hesitate to inform them of
such.

The dragon circled high above what remained
of the battlefield Tristan had been on just weeks before. The
carcasses of the fallen giants still smoldered as they were slowly
burnt, siege engines and towers littered the landscape. Tristan
knew this little field trip was more for Mina’s sake, though he
couldn’t help but being to fully appreciate the progress he’d made
into Terum as he admired his forward lines. Small watchtowers had
been erected every fifty yards and smoke billowed from their
chimneys as the soldiers inside tried to keep warm in their
off-hours. Snow blew across the barren plains, covering the worst
of the carnage and only drawing attention to the larger carcasses
and destroyed buildings and siege engines that remained.

He felt the familiar pressure of Lesariu’s
voice in his mind as she flew farther west.
This is what the
father of your son has been doing for over a year.
She
explained.
What remains of
Draconis’ Bane
has joined with
this army led by a bandit Lord who is enthralled to a sorceress.
Tristan only has the barest sense of the forces at play behind her,
but I can assure you both that they will test the will of mankind
to its utter limit.

They flew farther west as the smoke from
fires and machine shops created large black clouds of smog. An
immense army of creatures, men and magicians gathered in large
well-lit places as they took part in dark rites. Several shouts of
both rapture and terror could be heard, even at their elevation.
Tristan had to force himself to pay attention to what he saw,
hoping against all hope that he could perhaps use this knowledge to
his advantage in the spring as he pressed the invasion forward.
Regardless, Mina found the sight nearly impossible to watch, and
turned her face away from the carnage below.

Tristan’s fears are not unfounded.
Lesariu insisted in an almost pleading tone.
Your son cannot
escape his fate. He must fight, or he will die. Art and poetry are
of little help to him.