The Prince closed his book, gently sliding it forward on to the table as he sat up in his chair. He started with the dragon lore revealed to him by Henjis, and then went into more detail with the lore told to him by his grandfather. When he was finished the sun had set and strange globes that hung from the boles of the trees and the shelves themselves again illuminated the library.
One of the librarians scurried into the room and placed a few of the glowing globes on the table. With the lights under her face, the Queen looked more alien than ever as she considered Tristan’s words. Beth expressed her uncomfortable feelings again, she didn’t like the memories of dragon-elf history which Tristan assumed led more from the birth of orcs than the war itself.
“Your insight is quite extensive. I see I was right about you.” She said with pride. “There were doubts of course that a human could grasp the full danger that comes.”
“What danger?” Tristan asked.
“The orcs amass again.” The Queen said sadly. “We have lived in peace with the dwarves for hundreds of years. Even the dragons have forged a peace with us, though they suffer our company poorly.” She sighed while looking at Beth. “A relic of our past I’m afraid. Once we were the closest to the dragons, now that position is occupied by humans.”
She’s jealous! Beth sent Tristan in shock.
“Not jealous, friend dragon, I merely state the obvious.” The Queen answered stiffly. “Perhaps humans are more suited to draconic ways than we are.”
The Prince sensed that Beth was correct; the elves had once been the ones to ride on the backs of dragons. They lived with them, helped them nurse their young and taught them how to communicate with mortals. The Queen was jealous that dragons largely kept their own council, with the exception of their half-breed offspring. Orcs were half-breeds as well Tristan realized with dread certainty.
“You fear us?” Tristan blurted.
The Queen closed her eyes, the most obvious admission she’d made yet. “I fear our feet are again on the path to utter destruction.”
“You think the humans match the orcs bloodlust?” Tristan asked, clearly insulted at the comparison.
“Do you know of how the war came to pass Prince Vallious?” The Queen shot.
“An elf and dragon mated, the offspring was an orc. The dragon fled with the young orc and over the centuries the orcs grew in number until their dark purpose led them to kill their father dragon.” Tristan answered.
“Not exactly.” A deep voice called from the doorway.
Tristan was out of his chair, sword and dagger clearing their scabbards, in moments. He crouched low, preparing for a fight as the largest orc he’d ever seen walked into the room. Beth turned in her seat and hissed at the sight of the towering brute. He raised his hands to show that he was unarmed.
The Prince relaxed slightly, noticing that the orc wore the fine weave of the elves and carried himself as though he were royalty. He slowly walked forward, keeping his hands up in supplication. Finally he came to stand next to the Queen’s chair. She put her arm gently around him, and looked at Tristan.
“Prince Tristan, meet my son; Tulio.”
~
Drake brooded in the large chamber. While he admitted that the others were better suited the tasks they undertook, he, like his grandson, ached to do more than simply watch over their hatchlings. Although that task too had its challenges as the dragons had begun to battle uselessly against one another. While they could do little damage to their opponents, the damage they inflicted on their nest was considerable.
He had been forced to separate them by sex to keep the more aggressive females from destroying one another. In time they would learn to get along, but for now the girls fought bitterly to establish dominance over their nesting area. Drake chuckled to himself as the females lashed out at the protective domes he’d erected around each of them. Once this orc business was over with, the dragon host could turn their attention to teaching the hatchlings how to fly, hunt and communicate with one another in a slightly less destructive fashion.
One of the older males sauntered over to Drake as he sat in a plush chair, his feet up on a stool, as he watched the young. This one was most impressive, like his two nest mates, he was now able to send thoughts to the elders. They tended to be broken and slightly muttered, but by and large they grew and learned at an impressive rate.
Elder. The youngling sent.
“Hello my boy.” Drake said jovially.
Brother hurt. He said with deep concern.
“One of your nest mates is injured?” He asked with concern, standing up and looking around the nesting areas.
No. Brother. Hurt. He repeated with frustration.
“Which brother?” Drake asked calmly.
Tristan. Hurt. The youngling said.
Drake smiled warmly at the young bronze dragon as he sat back down and kicked his feet back up. Always with the bronze it was true, they could feel empathy for the entire host. It’s what made them such excellent healers. Of course Tristan was hurt, his bride lay dying of an unknown poison.
“His wife lay dying my son.” Drake explained sadly. “He rages, he fears and he struggles to find that which will cure her.”
He need flower. The young bronze dragon said with conviction.
“A flower?” He asked.
One that grow in magic place. The youngling replied.
Drake pulled his feet off the stool and leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know what it looks like?” He asked.
The little bronze dragon nodded his head. Slowly the image of a purple flower coalesced in Drake’s mind. The youngling tilted his head to the side slightly as he closed his eyes in concentration. The flower became more distinct as the young one focused his mind. It appeared to be an orchid of some kind; it possessed purple pedals and a thick green stalk. The lands around it come into focus. It was rocky and yet held a hint of greenery, as the image pulled away, Drake saw hundreds of the flowers, all scattered along a steep cliff face.
Drake looked at the youngling with open surprise, for one so young to feel at this distance was incredible, the rest was beyond explanation. The King of dragons knew this island; it was a fairly desolate, devoid of trees, grass or the ability to sustain any civilization. The dragons had deemed it uninhabitable hundreds of years ago, only sparse patches of plant life, those able to sustain themselves in limited soil survived. It was an island that many magic users had hence used as a location for their school. The island; was Deus.
~
“Again.” Lesa called across the courtyard.
Mina barely suppressed a groan as Eurydice used her arts to fling a dozen rather large branches at her. Using her Dragon’s Fist, she snapped her wrist and twisted her arm into a high arc. The first four branches shattered as the outer edge of her chain tore into their bark. The next ones snapped as the tip of her weapon whipped through the air and finally she snapped her wrist again bringing the chain into a loop over her shoulder, sending the remaining few branches flying off at various angles. When she’d finished, Lesa walked over to her looking her up and down as she pulled a single splinter of wood out of her granddaughter’s hair.
“Very impressive.” She congratulated.
The three of them had been working tirelessly for days to prepare Mina sufficiently for what they planned to accomplish. Euri found that the Guisian Princess still thought the task before them was repugnant, but she seemed willing to risk much for her son. She knew that Mina felt that Tristan had already sacrificed himself so many times for her for their child, and her work was tempered by the need to prove herself to everyone.
“Do we leave soon?” Mina asked uncertainly.
“Tonight.” Lesa said with a grim look.
Euri approached them, dusting off her hands and smiling warmly at Mina. “You need a bath.” She said with a grin, making a show of pinching her nose. The Guisian Princess chuckled, her voice was thick with fear though. She turned and walked off to her rooms while Euri a
nd Lesa exchanged worried glances at one another.
I’m not sure that she’s up to this. Euri sent.
Probably not, but you four often surprise us. Lesa replied with a smile.
But she was never taught how to fight before. Tristan, William and I were. I don’t know how she’s going to deal with it. Eurydice insisted.
Are any of us ready for what we’re about to do? The elder dragon asked darkly.
~
“How can this be possible?” Tristan asked in open shock.
The Prince was still trying to overcome the shock of seeing an orc, not only unarmed and civilized, but quite intelligent. While Tulio grunted at times and had general orc-like mannerisms, it was obvious to all that he had as much in common with the orcs as humans did to monkeys. He looked like a refined version of the larger orc Tristan had bested a short while ago.
“Not all of the orcs rose against their parents.” He explained, calmly, as he motioned to a seat at their table.
Tristan nodded and the orc bowed his head in thanks. He parted his robe and sat down with surprising agility. The orcs the Prince had experience with tended to be snarling nearly mindless beings hell bent on warfare and bloodshed. Even the larger orc he had defeated was far more primal and violent than the prim and proper orc before him. Still his senses could barely comprehend the Queen’s son.
His clothes were of the finest weave, though now that he had more time to observe him, they didn’t appear to be elvish fashion. His robe was a light silken material; however it had large patches of artfully created mosaics. All things considered, his clothing looked more like Tristan’s than the elves, even though it was created using the fine silk the elves seemed to favor. His robe was a dark blue color, with swatches of yellow, red and orange to break up the monotony of one color. The orc wore trousers of the same material, though they were bright green in color. He wore slippers of black and had a simple black sash around his waist. While he was far more regal than the orcs Tristan had seen before, he still possessed the rippled muscle of his kind.
“I don’t understand.” The Prince admitted, forcing himself to sit back in his chair.
One of the librarians came and gathered up the materials in front of them and another brought over some tea for them to sip at. Beth appeared uncomfortable, though she hid the fact as well as possible. Tristan could feel how deeply concerned she was, and knew her reasons as well as his own. Now that they found the elves, the Prince felt much of his fear and anger fade away as hopefulness took over. Even now, learning about this orc was a pleasant break from his intense search.
“I assume you know how orcs came to be?” Tulio asked politely. Tristan simply nodded in reply as Tulio smiled and continued.
“There are precious few of us remaining.” He began.
Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as his observation. Tulio smiled and spread his hands in acknowledgement of the obvious humor of his statement.
“Let me rephrase that, there are precious few of the sane orcs remaining.” He said. “What you have to understand is that while orcs might not be as fair as the elves, or as strong as the dragons, we were born much as you where Prince Tristan.” Tulio observed.
Tristan stiffened slightly, his cheeks flushed as he readjusted himself self-consciously. While he knew he was as much a half-breed as an orc was, he loathed the insinuation that they were anything alike.
“You and I have much more in common than you might think.” Tulio commented. “There are those who appear to be elves, but are in fact the same as you and I. Half-breeds. Human nature being somewhat more accepting than the elves, dragons or even the dwarves for that matter, you are much more tolerated than I would be.” He said.
“That’s only because I appear to be human.” Tristan interjected.
“True. But then the elf-dragon half-breeds appear to be elves, even though their nature is far more violent than the elves would like.” Tulio pointed out. “That’s not to say that all of my species is able to live in peace. As you have seen, there are those who are so primal and warlike that all they know and crave is bloodshed. So they are also elves that are warlike, they abhor the peace that my mother’s people strive for.”
“We need to start with the beginning though.” He admitted. “A mighty dragon did mate with an elf. They produced an orc, though the mixture doesn’t always produce an orc as I have explained. Orcs are born in much the same way as humans; our mothers carry us for nine months in the same way. Sometimes more than one child is born, and it’s even possible for the children to have different appearances. With humans this doesn’t appear to be the case, it seems that human genes are more dominant than dragon, so their children tend to all appear human. We have no knowledge of dwarf-dragon children as none have been born to the best of our knowledge.” Tulio admitted.
“Most of the orc children born here are raised to be like their elvish parents, though some are born too warlike to be raised properly. If by their fifteenth birthday they show naught but violence, they are carried to the cliffs looking over the ocean and tossed over by the elders.” Tulio stated calmly. Beth’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at the Queen and her son in shock and disbelief.
“I know it seems harsh and cruel, especially for the elves. But my mothers’ people would risk much to keep this world from becoming like the one they fled.” He said somberly.
“I understand.” Tristan said. Beth merely nodded, though she still looked deeply troubled.
“On Fangoria the mighty dragon and elf fled into the swamplands. The dragon used his arts to create a large glade within the swamps where the orcs could be raised and loved.”
“For generations my orc ancestors were born, raised, and taught elven and dragon lore. They built cities for themselves out of the earth and trees, hunted and grew much as any race would. Overtime they expanded beyond the swamps. Into the mountains they went and began to mine metals they would use to build their homes and create weapons to defend themselves.”
Tulio took a deep breath before he continued. “The orcs expanded quickly, not being long lived like the dwarves and elves, they had many children. Eventually the old teachings began to be taught to less and less of the children. Some of the farther out villages began to interbreed for reasons that still remain unknown. Then one of the mines found its way into dwarven holdings. There was a war between the orcs and dwarves over the rights to the mountain.” Tulio admitted, taking a sip of tea.
“No one is quite sure who started the war or who won, but eventually the dwarves destroyed an orc city, slaughtered the women and young and set fire to everything that stood.” He recounted sadly.
“One orc distinguished himself in battle, but he didn’t believe in the old ways. He galvanized the outer villages and none too few of the young into a war party. Like a wave they crashed into the dwarves and destroyed everything of theirs. For a time the orcs lived in peace. Then the eastern dwarves came to avenge their western cousins. They brought the elves with them, only the dragons seemed intent to stay out of the fight.” He continued.
“The Orc Legate, as the leader called himself, roused the orc people into a frenzy and they swarmed into the capital. It was our species darkest hour, the Legate led a raiding party into the dragon hold and they tore their father limb from limb. Next they turned their anger on their mother and slaughtered her as well. The remaining orcs were given a choice, follow the Legate, or die.”
“A few of my people fled to the elves, hoping that our training and education would avail us of their care. We were turned away. Instead of leaving we built shelters at the base of their trees so we might show them our differences were superficial. This became a tradition over time, peaceful orcs living at the base of elvish tree cities. In the meantime, the war raged on. For thousands of years every species lost many of their kin. Even the dragons suffered greatly in the battles that raged on.” He took another slow sip of tea, composing his thoughts.
“After a time a peace confe
rence was to be held. Already fighting between the orc factions was reaching a fevered pitch, though the other races didn’t know. The faction led by The Orc Legate orchestrated the assassination of a mighty black dragon at the peace talks. The dwarves blamed the elves love for their twisted children, the elves blamed the dwarves warmongering and the dragons blamed us all.” Tulio took another steadying breath as Giani looked over at him in sympathy.
“War erupted again, though there were a select group of elves, dwarves and dragons who sought to escape the madness. The elves and dragons combined their magic and produced the gateway through which we fled. My ancestors also wanted to flee the fighting.”
“The Orc Legate found them out and sent his whole army to stop them. The dwarves attacked us as we fled through the gateway, so once on this world we fled and hid in the forests. For fifty years my ancestors interbred and became that which they fled, and eventually the orcs who fled to this world resembled a twisted and grotesque version of their former selves.” He concluded.
“How did you come to be here then?” Beth asked. Tristan had never heard her speak aloud before, and despite his shock at the story Tulio told, his shock re-doubled with her vocal inquiry.
“I was born here, as many orcs have been. The draconic blood runs in some of the elves veins and orc children are born from time to time. There are few of us, but enough that we have our own village at the base of these trees.” He explained.
The Prince could hardly credit his senses. Here stood a pristine version of the morbid foe he’d faced. Although he struggled with the thought, this orc was anything but a mindless animal. Tristan spoke at length of the orcs his army had defeated as well as the orc commander he had slain. When he was finished Tulio looked at the Elf Queen, who nodded to him.
Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) Page 19