Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  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.

  Chapter 3

  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.

  When they had returned to Delhi, Mina had barricaded herself in her apartments and cried herself to sleep, refusing to even allow her servants into the room. She didn’t resurface until breakfast the next morning, her eyes still swollen and red despite her best efforts. While she dug a piece of grapefruit out with her spoon she sighed and asked solemnly; “Where do you want him sent?”

  It was clear to Tristan that it frightened her to be parted from her son and despite his insistence that he wouldn’t give her any more concessions, he simply said; “Mother and Father want to retire soon. I think they would enjoy the quiet leisure that is Guisian society in their golden years.” He explained. “Father taught me, he can teach Jonathan too.”

  The tears welled up in her eyes again and she looked on the verge of complete collapse again. Before her emotions could overwhelm her, she mouthed her thanks before she buried her face in her napkin for a moment. Maggie’s hand found his and she squeezed it briefly, communicating her approval.

  After breakfast Tristan went back to their apartment and tried to communicate with his mother. After a few attempts he felt the reassuring presence of his mothers’ thoughts.

  Yes Mykl? She replied.

  I need to ask a favor. He sent.

  Anything. She answered back instantly.

  Once I regain control of Terum and Kevin is free to assume the throne so you and father can retire. He began. Would you both consent to live in Delhi for a few years so that father can train my son as he taught us? He blurted out in a rush.

  A long pause followed, causing Tristan to feel guilty for encroaching on the quiet time in their lives, as their approaching retirement should have been. Finally, his mother answered back.

  Your father says he would be honored. She sent. Tristan could feel that her thoughts were heavy with emotion and he tried to glean their source. She must have felt his uncertainty, because she said; your father would have found a much less savory hobby anyway, Mykl. She reassured him.

  A few hours later, Tristan found his son and Mina playing in their favorite courtyard with Euri, Lesa, Peria and Maggie. He sat down opposite her on their large blanket and simply said; “He’ll do it.”

  Mina crawled towards him and kissed him lightly on the cheek, thanking him. Peria immediately shouted for the head servant. The Rajina ordered a large apartment be built on the other side of their favorite courtyard for Tristan and Euri’s parents to use. When Tristan reminded her that it would be a few years before they could make their way here the old woman waved him off, chastising him.

  “Don’t ruin and old woman’s fun young man!” Then she began to lay out plans and ideas for the master builder to begin construction.

  Tristan and Euri chuckled at her enthusiasm as Maggie sat down and possessively wrapped her arm around Tristan’s, casting a dark look at Mina that everyone but the young mother failed to notice.

  Days began to fade into weeks, and weeks into months as their lives settled into a comfortable routine. Tristan found that his son was limited in his mind-speech, and at times forced images into the Princes mind to communicate properly. He began to teach the lad how to communicate in more traditional ways so that he wouldn’t frighten people by yelling into their minds when he needed something.

  At times a servant would drop a tray they were carrying because he would shout for food or water as they walked along the exposed hallways and came into h
is sight. Tristan felt bad for the servants as it was, but to be yelled at in their minds must have been terribly frightening, albeit in an amusing way.

  So language lessons had begun. He left most of it to Mina and the Rajina, who would teach him the Guisian language and history, as Guis tended to focus more on history than any other country he knew of. Instead, he focused on associating pictures his son shot into his mind, with the verbal words for them in his own language, which was far more commonly used than Guisian. The child made excellent progress, learning the Vallius language easily. This morning he was trying to teach his son some dragon lore, as Henjis taught it to him.

  While the colors of the dragons came easily, his son insisted that all dragons looked like his great-grandmother; long serpent-like creatures with a long fin and wings that spread along their entire body. After a few hours of no progress, Tristan used his mind to call his grandfather, hoping that at least seeing another dragon would help drive home the lesson.

  You called. Draconis replied.

  Would you like to meet your great-grandson? Tristan replied with humor.

  Of course! He answered eagerly to the Princes amusement. Mind if I bring a friend? He asked playfully.

  No sooner had Tristan answered in the affirmative when two obscenely large dragons landed in the same courtyard, much to Jonathan’s amusement. The young Prince clapped at their arrival as Tristan slowly got up, drinking in the sight before him. The familiar silver dragon of his grandfather stood there, staring down at them with a crooked smile.

  Hello my sons. He sent them both.

  Tristan could feel Jonathans’ excitement in his mind, so he reached down and lifted his son up. Holding him on his hip, he looked back up at the second dragon. Its scales practically glowed red in the sunlight with a faint orange sheen. It was muscular, just as Draconis was, and although this dragon must have been quite young, he sensed a great well of power inside of it. Tristan also sensed the same youthful and mischievous enthusiasm that his son possessed.