Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  The men stopped their debate, looking at the young lady with a mixture of irritation and amusement. Her insistence and strength had surprised them both when only yesterday they had be embroiled in another similar debate and she’d given them the boot herself; shoving them out of the room, booting Kevin in the rear as she slammed the door.

  “I blame myself.” Kevin said quietly. “We named her Nathan’s matron and she took ownership of the entire keep.” He continued out of the corner of his mouth to his father.

  The King chuckled. “She definitely has the baring to be a Vallious.” He added quietly.

  The air in the room seemed to sizzle, the heat of the afternoon disappearing as angry purple clouds rolled in. Annadora stood up from her chair at Tristan’s side, looking out as the clouds as lightning began to leap between the folds. Thunder shook the castle and everyone backed away from the window. The elder dragons looked over in shock at the growing display outside. Euri’s eyes shot open from her dozing and she leaped from the bed. She reached forward and dragged Maggie back, shoving her protectively behind her.

  A bolt of lightning arced in through the open window, snaked around the bedposts and struck her son where he lay. Annadora wasn’t the only one to scream his name, but she was the first. Dion yanked her back roughly and held fast to her. Beneath the nearly blinding light she could see her son’s face twisted in agony as the bolt traveled all over his body, making a hissing sound as it contacted his wounds.

  Her fear was replaced with amazement as the bolt arced across the room once again and struck his armor, which had been cleaned and hung in the wardrobe. The doors shot open as pieces began flying across the room. Laces fell out as the armor sealed itself around his body; all traces of seams and grommets disappeared leaving his skin showing only through the small spaces. Everyone watched in detached shock as everything around him took on a glowing hue. Euri was comforting the sobbing Maggie while the elder dragons were looking on in utter disbelief. Dion and Kevin tried their best to hide their fear but Annadora could clearly sense their concern.

  What’s happening? Euri shot into her mother’s mind.

  I don’t know Mykl. She admitted.

  Even as she sent the thought her son stopped thrashing about in pain, he seemed to straighten out as though sleeping. His lips moved, though no words came forth. His fists clenched and released as the last of his wounds healed with audible popping sounds. As quickly as it started the lightning bolt ceased, though his body remained suspended until the glow subsided, then he fell to the mattress making the bed creak in protest. His eyes were wide open and his breathing was deep, as though he had just run a hundred yards at full speed.

  “A…Tristan?” Maggie sobbed.

  Euri could no longer hold her back; the young matron’s fear was such that she squirmed her way free and ran towards his bed. Annadora watched in shock as a tear ran its way down her smooth cheek. Her son mumbled something incoherent, causing everyone to move closer to better hear him.

  “I can’t hear you Tristan.” Maggie said quietly.

  “Marry me.” He choked.

  Chapter 7

  Prince Tristan Vallious stood at the top of the western tower, his fine clothing whipping in the wind and his cloak billowing behind him. Since returning from Kenting and assuming command of the fortress in Kumia, he had been very busy indeed. His memories of his fevered dreams and his pledge to be the defender of this world were clearer in his mind than ever.

  Already thoughts were coming to him unbidden. Tristan knew that somewhere a gateway was being forged between two worlds. He also was keenly aware that those who attempted to gain entry to this world were from the dragons’ home world, and he needed further information before decided how best to proceed. Today though, was not for brooding over tasks to accomplish or oaths to fulfill. This day was about he and Maggie and no other.

  A priest had arrived this morning. The first of many more as he had temples rebuilt for his people. Already construction had begun converting the blacksmiths and tanneries back into homes as well as repairing years worth of neglect and damage to the streets and byways.

  The Terum army had been disbanded, the citizens freed and given back their lands. The remaining loyalist soldiers had been marched at spear point north to be tossed into the Expanse. Tristan gave over governorship of Terious town to Colonel Yeris, elevating him to Baron. He had tried to do something similar with Frose, but the old war dog refused and threatened to box the Princes ears if he even tried. So instead he made Frose the General of the new Terum Army, and was greeted by a chorus of swears and futile death threats.

  Tristan smiled at the memory as a small volcano erupted in the distance. Bethia’s training had been going well, the ever-present dark clouds had begun to break apart as fewer and fewer volcanoes erupted. Already some of the more ambitious farmers had fields sewn and they were already showing promising sprouts. Others braved the trek into Vallius and Sutten for cattle to bring back, while others began preparing the foundation for what Tristan hoped would become a thriving economy.

  It was with a certain amount of pride that Tristan had secured three very talented tailors to see to Maggie’s gown and his dress clothes. Already they had a thriving shop business setup in one of the first areas cleared of destroyed buildings. The sewers had been a mess, but after a few minor explosions and some very clever miners, they’d managed to clear the rubble and had them working properly. Already he had troughs and barrels setup as they were in Metao, to carry and use rain water to flush away the refuse. Although they had no body of water nearby, the miners had found an underground lake that rushed off towards the ocean. Engineers informed him that the underground lake emptied off into a waterfall that dumped into the ocean far away from the Great River mouth to the far south.

  “Ahem.”

  Tristan turned and attempted to hide his smile, though he failed terribly.

  “One word and I’ll toss you over the parapet.” General Frose threatened.

  The general wore the high collared dress uniform of the Vallius Army. Tristan made a mental note to change the design of the dress uniform slightly, if for nothing else than to stop the endless black looks from his veterans on occasions such as these. The Prince simply nodded to the old man, continuing to smile.

  “Ready?” Frose asked.

  “I think so.” Tristan admitted.

  “Having second thoughts?” He asked with a grin.

  “Not really. I’m just not sure if I want to expose someone else to the dangers that seem to find me.” The Prince replied.

  “Bah, she’ll be exposed whether you marry the lass or not!” Frose laughed.

  Tristan smiled a little uneasily and the General laughed even harder, slapping the younger man on the back as he directed him towards the main chamber. They walked through the fortress, descending the red stone stairs, polished by hundreds of years of use, into the main courtyard. The main chamber rose like a cathedral among the hallways and houses seemingly carved out of the red rock mountain.

  The chamber was a dark wood framed structure with large bricks of the red rock painstakingly chiseled and fitted together. Large archways were filled with stained glass, each depicting various red dragons with erupting volcanoes, lush fields and always the fortress somewhere in the backdrop. They entered the hall to find hundreds of people waiting inside on either side of a long red carpet that lead from the doorway to the dais.

  Upon the dais stood the priest, he was clothed in white fabric trimmed in purple. Before Tristan’s oath he would have been hard pressed to know which deity he represented. Now though the name came effortlessly to his mind. Astilia, the Good Goddess of purity and chastity. Typically her priests were present for blessing marriages and babies, a time when love and life was pure, innocent and simple.

  The pair of them strode forward and Tristan took his appointed place on the dais in front of the priest. Kevin walked up and stood to his left as the old priest smiled warmly at Tristan. His acolyte rus
hed forward and motioned for Tristan to hold out his hand, face up. Gently, he wrapped the purple silk sash over Tristan’s outstretched arm and tied one end to his thumb.

  Excited murmuring swept through the crowd as Tristan turned his head to look back at the entrance to the main chamber. Maggie stood at the entrance with Euri behind her, holding the hem of her dress up to keep it from getting dirty. His wife to be stepped forward a few paces and Euri let the hem of her gown down to sweep behind her. Euri stuck her tongue out over Maggie’s shoulder forcing Tristan and Kevin to laugh as they watched their playful sister.

  Maggie’s gown was all white, except for the chevron of blue laced with beads on her chest. Her hair was done up in a complex pattern that looked more painful than Tristan supposed it should on their wedding day. She slowly walked down the red carpet to join Tristan at the front.

  “She’s a treasure young man.” The priest quietly whispered.

  Tristan agreed, she cut a most impressive figure, walking with an air of confidence he was sure was entirely an act. The Prince’s family was the only family Maggie knew, being an orphan that Annadora had taken a liking to and found a post within Kenting for, so Tristan was unsurprised when he looked over and saw his mother in tears for the both of them.

  Alison, Kevin’s wife, was also in tears. She and Maggie were close friends after all, though that didn’t stop Dion, Kevin and Tristan from fighting the urge to roll their eyes at the emotional display the women were making. Maggie made her way up the dais and the acolyte wrapped the sash around her arm and tied it loosely to her thumb.

  She was shaking slightly so Tristan gave her a reassuring squeeze. Maggie gripped his hand with surprising strength, her nails ground into the back of his hand and he had to force himself not to cry out. The priest cleared his throat dramatically and the whispered conversations ceased.

  “Today we gather to celebrate the union of these two children in the eyes of the Good Goddess. Astilia bless you.” He intoned.

  “Astilia bless you.” The guests murmured in reply.

  As the priest went on a great length about the sanctity of their union and its profound meaning, Tristan was completely focused on his bride. Her dress was trimmed in an upside down V-shape in the same blue as the top was adorned. The beadwork extended down beyond the bodice, and laced its way all around her dress, giving her an almost glowing quality as the setting sun reflected off of them. Her hair was likewise beaded and pinned up in some strange fashion that Tristan found completely baffling.

  “Do you vow, Tristan Vallious and Maggie of Metao, to be bound together as husband and wife? To love and cherish each other, in good times and ill, until death should chose to separate you?” The priest asked.

  “I so vow.” Tristan and Maggie replied in unison, as was the tradition.

  “I offer this loaf as a symbol of your union.” The priest intoned, holding the flat loaf of bread aloft and tearing it down the middle. It was less than a mouthful, but Tristan’s throat was dry and he was nervous to chew and swallow it without choking on it.

  “Take this each of you and eat. This is the first of many things you will share.” He said loudly.

  He fed Tristan and then Maggie their pieces of the loaf and the Prince was glad that it was laced with honey, which helped ease the dryness. He chewed twice and swallowed as Maggie did the same.

  “The Goddess is pleased.” He announced. “I now pronounce you man and wife! Come forth and congratulate the new couple!” He shouted for the guests.

  Tristan’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch and he briefly thought he was going to vomit. The feeling quickly passed though and he dismissed it as nerves. The newlyweds descended the steps from the dais and stepped forward to be embraced by their loved ones. Tristan turned to Maggie and kissed her cheek, she smiled, blushing slightly.

  Then the color drained from her face and she pitched forward. It was only due to Tristan’s reflexes that she didn’t collide painfully with the hard stone floor. He rolled her over and felt her forehead, assuming she just passed out from the stress. Her eyelids were wide open though and her eyes rolled about in her head. The Prince shouted out for help.

  Lesa was the first to break through the crowd and skid to a halt in front of them. She closed her eyes, put her hand to Maggie’s forehead and began to mumble words in draconic. Tristan felt her neck for a pulse, and though it was very weak there was a heartbeat. Lesa opened her eyes and locked gazes with Tristan.

  “She’s been poisoned.” She said, her voice barely above that of a whisper.

  ~

  “Turn me back.” He ordered.

  “Report first.” The robed one replied.

  “I soaked the loaf with the liquid in the vial.” The acolyte admitted.

  “So the dragon spawn is dead?” The sorcerer asked.

  “They both fell and I ran.” He replied.

  “Very well.” The sorcerer agreed.

  Waving his arms in a small arc he cast a small blue orb into the chest of the acolyte. Slowly the human flesh ripped off, it tore as though seems were being frayed. A dim flash of light illuminated the tent briefly, and then the orc was brushing off the last of the human flesh, pulling himself up to his usual height and sighing in relief.

  “Go.” The sorcerer ordered.

  The mage sat in a large tent in the middle of the orc encampment. A large conjured fireplace lit and warmed the tent as he lifted the tome back up that he had been reading. The tome was covered in decades old human blood. It really was more of a historical text, despite the arguments he’d heard to the contrary from his own brethren. However, they were locked up in their stuffy school and he was leading an army of magically manipulated orcs on a conquest of the Great Expanse.

  Cyrisa had been a great loss, and Terum was even greater. Even now the Great Wall was being manned with thousands of soldiers. He still had a score of mages under his command and he used them whenever necessary. When the time is right he will return to the wall and launch his invasion of Terum, then the other countries will fall before his will. After the entire world was under the command of the Congress of Weavers they would weed out all of the dragon spawn and half-breeds. Then man would be free to rule, once they disposed of their orc servants of course.

  The flame in his fireplace flickered, the colors danced as it drew the sorcerer’s attention. He wove his arms in an arc, creating a protective dome around himself and the fireplace. The flames danced and sizzled, turning pink, then purple and finally blue as a face materialized in them. The sorcerer recognized his former teacher and master and bowed.

  “Lord Petrus, an honor my master.” He intoned.

  “Master Binos.” Petrus began. “I’ve received word that Terum is now free of our control.”

  “It is so, my master.” Binos admitted with another bow.

  “Since you never failed as a student, I will assume you have a plan?” He asked skeptically.

  “Yes, my master.” Binos replied.

  “Enough with the honorific Binos, we both know you show little difference and certainly don’t waste your time bowing about the place acting submissive.” Petrus shot. “What is your plan?”

  Binos smiled, irritated and impressed at the same time. He probably should have known that his teacher would know him far better than that. It was only those fools on the congress he could manipulate through feigned difference. He knelt down in front of the fire and straightened his back out.

  “The loss of Cyrisa was regrettable.” He began. “She was a good student, but our position in Terum was being overrun for well over a year and that fool of a King she found was more interested in his own grandeur than truly bringing that country under heel.” Binos took a steadying breath before he continued.

  “The orcs I’ve created are larger, stronger and more susceptible to my will than the base inbred ones I sent to Cyrisa the last time I reinforced her. They’re position was doomed and while the Vallius forces decimated what remained of the Terum Army, I was c
onquering the Expanse.” He explained.

  “Is the Expanse entirely in your control then?” Petrus asked.

  “Not yet my Lord.” Binos answered honestly.

  “Then that fool boy could ride north.” Petrus accused. “You’ll end up being cinched between what remains of the Expanse tribes and the Vallius Army!” He shot.

  Binos smiled, he truly enjoyed being underestimated. It made surprise and tactically sound decisions seem like brilliance. “He won’t my Lord.” He said finally.

  Petrus’ eyes shot open. “Oh? And why not?” He asked.

  “Because I’ve had him and his bride poisoned.” Binos explained.

  “So? He’s dragon spawn; he could heal most poisons through readily available means. You create more problems my student.” He accused.

  “The poison I employed has only one cure.” Binos said with a grim smile.

  The younger sorcerer loved the weaving of a good mystery. He often stretched out details into long discussions just to bask in the ignorance of those he was speaking to. The orcs had no patience to speak of, so Binos relished the opportunity to weave his intricate plan slowly, taking pleasure in his master’s discovery of his brilliance.

  “And the cure is?” Petrus asked with a wry grin.

  “Dactylorhiza Sambucina.” Binos answered smoothly.

  “The Cliff Orchid?” He asked uncertainly.

  Binos merely nodded with a sadistic grin as Petrus chuckled.

  ~

  Tristan sat with his head in his hands; he ground the palms of his hands into his eye sockets as he fought with his memory for an answer to this deadly puzzle. Drake and Lesa had worked their arts on Maggie for hours, they healed the damage and isolated the poison, but they couldn’t remove it from her stomach.