Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  “Just a little my Lord.” She purred, wrapping her arm around Tristan’s and leaning her head against his shoulder.

  Alison had given birth just weeks after they had returned to Kenting. Due to the current state of things in the western half of the continent, Tristan had decided to set up his command post inside Kenting town. Between the brothers, they had made headway over the last twelve months. The two of them controlled a third of Terum province along a stable front that ran from the south of The Great Expanse, and extended south along the Vallius, and Sutten borders. With their Cousin Williams’ aid they used Sutten forces to swell their numbers to a hundred thousand men.

  Even with the added men and the small victories, Tristan felt as though they were dangerously over-extended. He longed to have Captain Robertson at his side. Sergeant-Major Frose was a more than acceptable substitute though. The grizzled old man had arrived at the head of what remained of the 7th Infantry mere days after Tristan’s arrival in Kenting. The grouchy old war dog spared no words, simply grasping Tristan’s’ forearm in greeting and offering his services, which was quickly followed by poorly concealed irritation at being promoted.

  The Prince enjoyed having the old man around, he put Tristan’s mind back to Robertson whom he missed more than he could have thought possible. He could hear his ghost yelling orders over his shoulder, giving Tristan ideas to bring victory out of the grasp of defeat.

  Tristan scowled slightly as Kevin looked over at the Prince and Maggie and raised his eyebrows dramatically. His brother smiled at Tristan’s dark look, causing his wife to look over with one of her characteristic knowing smiles that she knew irritated Tristan to no end. The Master of Ceremonies tapped his metal clad staff on the floor three times, announcing the end of morning court.

  Alison and Kevin rose from their seats as the citizens, patricians and other minor nobles were escorted out of the main chamber. Alison relieved Tristan of Nathan as the five of them retired to the dining hall. They passed a set of windows on their way and Tristan chanced a glance outside, checking the weather. For the last few weeks the temperature had lowered to the point where now frost gathered on the lawns surrounding the keep every morning. A dense fog hovered over the area blocking everything that wasn’t within the keep walls from view.

  They entered the dining hall as Timon came in the servants’ door with a several members of his staff, each carrying a tray of food for breakfast. Tristan pulled out a seat for Maggie to Alison’s left and then made his way around the table and sat down at his brother’s right, pointedly ignoring his brothers’ smile and loaded up his plate with a wry grin.

  “So little brother,” Kevin began. “How much of Terum do you plan to conquer today?” He asked with a chuckle.

  Tristan looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye as he tore his sweet roll in two. “Oh, I was tossing around the idea of breaking their forward lines and cutting the country in half.” He chuckled.

  Maggie’s face drained of color as she looked up from the plate she was feeding Nathan from. “What?” She asked breathlessly.

  “They’re playing with you Maggie.” Alison said, looking daggers at her husband and brother-in-law. “You two behave yourselves.” She ordered them with a smirk.

  Breakfast passed pleasantly afterwards, the family sharing a laugh as Nathan trounced his sweet roll with his wooden play sword in front of the fireplace.

  “Seriously though.” Kevin said, pushing himself away from the table. “What are your plans?” He asked his brother.

  “Well, with Winter Solstice behind us for another year.” Tristan began. “And the heavy snows just weeks away, I was actually thinking of leaving the bandit King alone to brood over the cold winter months.”

  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, lau
ghing 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.

  “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.