Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (20 page)

              “Is that where we are heading?” Dalton asked, “and is that normal?”

              “That is most assuredly not normal,” Tyrdra replied, pushing past him. “Change of plans, we need to get there as fast as possible.” She paused a moment, remembering that her companion was not yet up to a run through the mountains.  Placing her hand on his forehead she delved into his body, seeking the mending bones. Finding the place where the fracture had occurred, she began to strengthen and smooth the bone. Dalton grimaced, the discomfort of what she was doing making him light headed. In all, it only took about twenty seconds to finish the job his body had already been doing and improve upon it, but both of them were sweating by the time she finished.

              “Alright,” Dalton said, testing his leg. Finding the pain completely gone, he smiled up at his progenitor. “Let’s go see what’s wrong.” Putting action to his words, he started off at a run, bounding down the trail, leaping over anything that might impede his footfalls.

              “Kids,” she mumbled, before a grin took hold and she began running after him.

At a run, they managed to reach the hill at the base of the mountain that gave Mountainview its name, around the time that the sun started to dip behind the massive peak. The first rays of dusk illuminated a scene of chaos below. Behind the massive stone wall that surrounded the town, fires burned and people screamed.

Dalton took a step forward, ready to run down to the aid of the village, but Tyrdra put a strong hand on his shoulder, stopping his forward progress. Looking at him, she could see the turmoil that he was going through, and she saw that he almost yelled at her before he saw the look on her face.

“Wait, look,” Tyrdra said, pointing towards the roof of one of the taller structures. A dark form prowled across the shingles, bare metal glinting in its hand.

“Dracairei.” Dalton said the word like it was a curse. “How many would it take to create this much turmoil?”

“Not many, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot in there. I have heard of them organizing raids to see how their newest members perform. I’ve heard of as many as a dozen traveling together. If there is that many, we may be in for a losing battle.”

“I know I’m not very old, but I’ve been training to fight these bastards my entire life. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it, but I can’t just walk away while they slaughter people. Whether the people want my protection or not, they have it.” His knuckles had grown white as he gripped the pommel of his sword.

“I know I’ve said this before, but you are so much like my Alexander that it hurts sometimes.” She placed her hand on his cheek, and sent her will across his clothes and armor, artificially strengthening their bonds.

Next, she delved into his mind, stimulating the hypothalamus activating his adrenal glands, augmenting the process so that it would not go past the point of safety for his body. Next, she augmented his muscles and joints so that they could handle the increased stress he would be putting on his body. It would only last a few hours, and he would most likely simply pass out at the end of it, but it might be enough to keep him alive until then. His mind and body didn’t resist her in the slightest, his trust in her so complete that even his subconscious mind didn’t resist the changes. That thought brought a tear to her eye.

“Hey, we’re going to be alright,” Dalton said, gently wiping the tear away.

“It’s not that… never mind, people are dying as we speak. Stay within sight of me at all times. We are going to try to take them out one at a time. The longer we can go without them knowing what we are doing, the better.”

He nodded, and they moved onto the trail downward through the trees. As she went, Tyrdra strengthened her clothes and armor as she had done for Dalton, and then she started a mental exercise that she had learned long ago that allowed her to process information at a much faster speed. Doing so made the world seem like it was going by at a much slower pace, but really her mind was just processing things much more efficiently. She knew she would be just as exhausted mentally by the end of the coming battle as Dalton would be physically.

Once, long ago she had been able to make seconds seem like minutes, but that had all changed when she had chosen to take her new form. As a dragon she had possessed an intimate familiarity with her surroundings that she hadn’t felt since that day seven hundred and thirty five years ago. To most dragons, every particle around them became a part of the whole, forming a superconscious. In many ways, it was similar to what a Shaper was able to accomplish, only on an infinitely grander scale.

Learning how to control and interpret the data that all of these particles sent was a process that took many hundreds if not thousands of years to master. Giving up that connection had been one of the hardest things for many of them. Hundreds had ended up going insane, or ending their own lives from the silence.

Now she could only manage to double or at the best of times triple the speed at which her mind interpreted the data that her eyes and ears were receiving. Time was relative to the amount of things that the mind and body can do in a set period; this made it so that Tyrdra performed at a speed that was usually superior to that of her foe.

The problem today, however, was that the assassins had had similar training, allowing them to move and react at speeds which were well beyond that of your average soldier. However, the Protectorate Knights were also trained to take advantage of their increased mental facilities, so Dalton would be able to react quickly enough to make it an even fight.

On the other hand, the Dracairei were also likely very young, and their society seemed to take delight in backstabbing, both politically and literally. This made the chances of a Dracairei who could match her perception and reaction speeds highly unlikely. Her only worry for the coming fight was that they would be attacked by more than a couple Dracairei at once. If she and Dalton were able to get in and take out several of the assassins before they knew what was going on, it would multiply their chances of survival.

They reached the bottom of the hill within moments, slowing only when they neared the edge of the forest. Moving away from the trail head, they made their way through the underbrush beneath the towering conifers away from the back gate into the city. The chances that this blank stretch of wall was guarded were low, but she wasn’t going to get lazy now. Placing her hand upon the largest conifer tree near them, she sent a sliver of her consciousness up through the trunk and into the top of the tree. Once there, she began to gather particles from the air to create a light sensor that would allow her to interpret the rays of light that were being sent to that particular spot.

Looking out over the wall, she saw that the town was in chaos, and the cobbled avenues were littered with debris. There were a few small pockets of resistance that seemed to be fighting several forms or moving through the city as if they were going to be attacked at any time. One such group consisted of two men who were moving through a side street, standing back to back trying to make their way towards where the larger groups of resistance were making their stand.

A shadow flashed from a nearby alley, sending a shard of metal into the leading man’s neck and dropping him. The man who was walking backwards heard the impact but didn’t react fast enough to not stumble over his companion who was no longer moving. A cowled figure leapt from the shadow, sending his blade through the man’s neck. Before the second man hit the ground, the figure was gone.

“They are being slaughtered in there,” Tyrdra said, trying to bury the emotions that were bubbling up inside her.

“We will turn the tide.” Dalton’s left hand balled into a fist. “Are there any of them watching the wall here?”

“Not that I can see, but they are masters of stealth.” Tyrdra withdrew her consciousness from the old tree, driving out a small beetle infestation on her way as thanks. “Once we get through the wall, we move together. If I say down, you drop. If I say run, you run.”

Dalton rolled his eyes, “Yes, mother.”

She flicked him on the forehead. “You might wish she was here instead of me before this is through.”

“My lady, I can think of no one else with whom I would rather face mortal peril.” Dalton replied elegantly, the effect being ruined slightly as he rubbed his brow.

“Flatterer,” she replied exiting the forest.

“Besides the fact that I don’t get near as much enjoyment watching my mother create mayhem and destruction,” Dalton whispered, moving along beside her.

Shooting him a look that she hoped said shut up more than it let on that his banter entertained her, Tyrdra placed her hand on the stone wall. Doing much the same as she had with the tree, she sent a sliver of her consciousness into the masonry. From there, she began work convincing a large area of particles to contract in on themselves, creating an arch. This kind of shaping was much more difficult than many of the others that she had done so far this day.

Whereas the changes she had made to Dalton and herself would soon be overwritten by their own bodies, the stone had no will of its own, so any changes she made would be permanent if she didn’t set them right. Her mind held an image of the exact configuration that the wall had been in when she touched it, as well as an image of what she wanted the particles that made up the stone to do. Holding these images separate was not a difficult task, but convincing the particles that had come together to form something greater than they had been only moments before to go back to how they had been was taxing. Dalton guided her through the archway as she retained her connection to the stone.

The whole process had taken only a few seconds, but she felt like she had been in one of Elyas’s lectures for half the day as she enforced her will upon the particles, returning them to their previous state. Their feet gliding across the ground was the only sound in their immediate vicinity.

A scream sounded to their right from around the corner, and they sprang to action, Dalton in the lead. He moved like a panther stalking its prey, all stealth combined with imminent violence. She watched as he snuck up to the corner and quickly garnered a one eyed look around the building. Holding up the hand that wasn’t holding his sword, he held up one finger.
One enemy in sight.
Cupping his hand, he turned it so the back was facing her.
The target’s back is facing them.
The screams began to increase—a woman’s desperate pleading. Tyrdra didn’t want to know what was happening or about to happen to this poor woman, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it continue.

Placing her hand on the two story home and sending her mind into the wooden frame, creating her faux ocular lenses on three corners of the roof, Tyrdra checked for any hidden threats. Seeing no one but the attacker and his victim in view, she nodded, giving Dalton all the permission he needed to carry out his duty.

She switched through each view quickly, keeping an eye out for any movement. Each time she switched back to the eye that could see around the corner, Dalton was that much closer to his prey. Dalton was a step outside of sword range when some sense of danger seemed to go off inside the Dracairei’s head. The moment it took for his head to swing in Dalton’s direction was too long for the assassin, and its head went flying, an incredulous look plastered upon the dying man’s face.

This new batch of Dracairei seemed taller and thinner than those that she had seen in her last outing to this region twenty years ago. Their brows were still not quite human, and yet they were nowhere near the reptilian creatures they had once been. It was obvious to her that someone was trying to breed the strengths of the Dracairei into a more humanoid form, and the purpose was not hard to guess at. The more manlike they became, the easier it would be for them to infiltrate the big cities. Luckily, it seemed that they were a long way off from that desired goal.

Dalton dragged the body around the corner to where Tyrdra hid, kicking the skull of the assassin ahead of him. He had left the woman exposed and alone in the street, and it didn’t take long for her to begin sobbing. Tyrdra knew that it was tearing him up inside ignoring the woman in that condition, but she was proud of him for knowing what his duty was in this kind of situation. Getting out of this situation alive would require stealth, strength, and no small amount of luck.

When he arrived with the body, she retracted her vision and looked down at the dead Dracairei. Dalton took up sentry duty at the corner as she went to work, his attention shifting between the woman around the corner and the area around and behind Tyrdra.  Placing her hand on the assassin’s body, Tyrdra could feel that the man was no longer tied to his body, his soul or essence having given up its hold on the mortal coil. That was good for her, because it meant that there was no longer one will keeping dominion over the particles of his body, and she was able to quickly convince these particles to go their separate ways, leaving behind no trace that the body had been there moments before. She quickly did the same with the head, letting out a small sigh of disgust as the Dracairei’s tongue lolled out of his mouth before she was able to finish.

One enemy taken care of, the two rounded the corner, keeping alert for any other sign of the enemy. To Tyrdra’s surprise and pleasure, they found the woman standing up from where she had been, her tattered clothing draped around her. Looking directly into Tyrdra’s eyes, she nodded her thanks and walked into the building they had been hiding behind moments before. Tyrdra felt a strong surge of pride roll through her; these people had always been strong in the face of adversity, which was one of the reasons that the Draconic Council had decided on their course of action. As a whole, the people of the Protectorate were the kind of people who, once knocked down, did everything they could to get back on their feet. They might wail against the unfairness of the universe when they felt powerless, but if they lived through it, they came out stronger.