Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  He cast his eyes to the east as the sun rose along the roadway. Three distinct shadows cast themselves across the horizon and Gueru was forced to use his spy glass to credit his senses. An enormous dragon stood in the middle of the road with a human on either side of it. Through the spy glass he could make out the blowing hair and slender frame of two human women. The dragon wasn’t nearly as big as he had first believed. Gueru roared causing his soldiers to leap to pick-up their weapons.

  “What is it?” A magician asked. The man stood a full foot shorter than Gueru, but he reeked of power that humbled the young orc.

  “Two human, one dragon. On road.” He said in his disjointed English. The focus of the spells used on him was concentrated on size rather than communication skills.

  “Take a single cohort out with you and take them prisoner.” The mage ordered brusquely.

  Gueru grunted and leaped from the battlements as the gates were pushed open. He led fifteen orcs out onto the road and they jogged at a slow gait towards the three figures on the roadway. He roared in rage and the cohort increased their speed to a breakneck speed as they bore down on the two women and bronze dragon.

  The centurion raised his spear in defense as a whip cracked out from the smaller woman. It tore through the wood easily, showering him with splinters. He roared again and drew his sword; it was two feet long with a jagged hilt. Once again the whip lashed out and ripped the metal in twain. Gueru skidded to a halt and his cohort stopped short right behind him. For the first time in his young life, the centurion knew fear. The dragon opened her mouth and belched a column of intense fire down on them and the centurion then knew a brief moment of intense pain before blissful darkness took him.

  ~

  Tristan Vallious stood aboard the Guisian cutter Desert Oasis as it cleanly sliced through calm ocean waters. Bethia had flown him as far as Delhi where she regretfully had to leave him. He understood, she had a country to look after and for a fire dragon water must be quite intimidating. The Prince didn’t want her to be hurt anyway. As much as he enjoyed her companionship over the last few months, he would be a travesty if Terum was without a dragon again.

  He had a nice visit with Peria and his son Jonathan, despite the Rajina’s concerns over her daughter. Apparently she had left early one morning with Euri and Lesa, and hadn’t informed anyone where they were bound. If she was with his sister and Lesariu, Tristan wasn’t overly concerned for her safety. The Prince knew better than most what his sister was capable of, and an elder dragon wasn’t likely to come to harm easily.

  An hour after his arrival, a ship was made ready to carry him to Deus. Tristan had been told that the voyage would take at least a month. The first week at sea they had been besieged by seasonal storms that reminded the Prince why he hated traveling by water. For the last fortnight the seas had been calm and tranquil, and now when the sun rose he could see the silhouette of the magicians’ island in the distance.

  The captain admitted that this had been his easiest crossing to Deus and by far the fastest as the season storms had blown them to the north-east at twice their usual speed. It was estimated that they would reach land within the next couple of days. The side of the island that faced Guis was a large cliff that shone white and gold in the setting sun. At the present distance it caught the sunlight from the setting sun, making it appear as though a sun rose as the real on set.

  “Gods!” The first mate yelled.

  Tristan looked at the first mate to find the woman’s face drained of all color as she pointed to the south. Behind them a wave at least twenty feet in height rose like an ominous giant. His eyes widened in shock as the wave bore down on them like a lioness closing in on her prey.

  “Trim sails! Turn us into that monstrosity now!” The captain shouted over the roaring of the wave.

  Sailors scurried up the masts and ropes with impressive speed; they tied off the sheets and quickly lowered themselves back down the deck where they tied themselves to the masts and rails. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Tristan watched in morbid fascination as the ship seemed to stall, and then slowly it turned to face the wave. They rode the wave up to its peak at an odd angle, straightening out as they crested the wave. Tristan reached out and wrapped his arm around the netting running from the base of the rails on the starboard side up the mast.

  “This is why I hate sailing.” Tristan muttered to himself.

  The ship lurched forward and began the descent; they fell for what felt like an eternity. The ship rose again, crawling up another wave even higher than the first. Four sailors flew past the three masts and off the back of the ship. The water was all that stopped their screaming as they hit with bone wrenching power. Again they crested a wave, and as the ship leaned over the top Tristan could see the brown mud of what must have been the ocean floor. As they sped to their doom the Prince thought in detached relief that he had left his fine bow in Guis.

  ~

  “Something’s wrong!” Mina shouted in a hoarse voice as she shot up from her cot.

  The room was dark and empty. Her wounds had been tended to and a thick green poultice stung her arm. She tried desperately to grasp at the image that had woken her though it slipped away as quickly as it had invaded her mind. Mina tried to recall how she came to be laying here on this cot.

  After the first wave of orcs had been defeated, a second and a third wave came at them. Each one was progressively smaller and easier to destroy. Then the magicians had begun to attack them from the walls. Lesariu leaped into the air and attacked them directly. Forces were unleashed that forced Mina to avert her eyes from the intensity of the exchange. When the spells had worn off, a better part of the fort wall was a smoldering ruin.

  The large bronze dragon grasped a hold of two of the magicians; one of them had erected a protective field around himself. She launched the pair of them in a high arc towards the princesses. The first one, landed lightly a few feet in front of them, still facing the dragon. He died as Mina’s whip lashed out and tore him in two. The second still had his protective spell in place, which repelled three blasts from the end of Euri’s staff. He had spun around to receive a blow to the head from the end from it. He reeled backwards, taken off balance by the mundane blow that breached his defenses. Mina whipped her Dragon’s Fist at him and tore his head from his shoulders in a shower of blood. She had breathed deeply, steadying her nerves. Then a flash of light was followed by utter darkness.

  Mina rose shakily to her feet, looking around the room she was in. Slowly the contents of the small chamber came into focus and she wondered if she was a captive. She slowly made her way over to the door and pulled at the latch, while it was caked with rust and grime it relented under the pressure she applied to it. Mina pulled the door open and walked out into a simple wooden hallway.

  Choosing a direction at random, she walked down the hall, using the wall to steady her shaky legs. There was an intense odor to the place, almost like moss and mold mixed together. It was both acrid and sickly sweet; a few weeks ago it would have been enough to cause her gorge to rise. Now it merely made her light headed as she fought to make her legs function as they should.

  A large gaping hole in the side of the hallway showed the smoldering destruction that was once the east wall of the fort. Even now flames still gathered about the base of the wall, engulfing bales of straw and wooden crates. She felt ill used and sore from her head to her painted toe nails. A hand touched her shoulder and Mina spun, almost losing balance as she did so. Euri smiled at her and began to speak.

  Her lips moved, but Mina couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth. Her eyes widened in dismay as she noticed she couldn’t hear the fires, or the small explosions as the nests caught fire. Tears welled up in her eyes and Euri pulled her into an embrace. The silence was oppressive it was as though someone had her tightly wrapped in canvass. A large explosion went off and it shook her balance, she clung to Euri for support.

  Almost imperceptibly Mina heard the faintest of voi
ces in her mind. Can you hear me child?

  It was the voice of her grandmother, and she could hear it as though she was standing right in front of her. Mina pushed Euri back and looked around in confusion. On the other side of the destroyed courtyard Lesa came around one of the support columns, looking straight at her with concern on her face.

  Mina, can you hear me? She asked again.

  The Guisian Princess nodded as her grandmother picked her way through the burning nests of dead orc women and children. Euri looked at her sympathetically while still holding her at arm’s length.

  Are you alright? Euri spoke in her mind.

  It was as though she was standing in a cold dark room and the voices were warm breezes blown in through unseen windows. While the silence was deafening, their voices were comforting and helped to keep her from feeling alone. She nodded hesitantly again and Euri’s face betrayed her guilty feelings. Mina reached out with her hand and stroked Euri’s cheek, shaking her head as a tear fell from her eye. Try as she might, she couldn’t send any thoughts of her own back so she tried to communicate with her expression that Euri shouldn’t blame herself. The younger woman embraced her again, hugging her tightly as she sobbed. Mina felt an odd sort of detached feeling of guilt for causing such heartache, and despite her own disability, she found herself comforting the younger princess.

  How are you feeling child? Lesa asked gently.

  Mina forced a smile in reply. It was clear that the two of them felt intense guilt at her injuries and she felt it was unfair to make them suffer more than they already had. “I’m fine.” She must have shouted because the women flinched slightly. “What happened?” She asked in what she hoped was a lower voice.

  An image was pushed into her mind’s eye and she witnessed the flash that hit her. It was little more than a burst of light that one of the magicians had cast. It collided with her and sent her flying backwards into a tree. The sound the blast created was incredible, like a thousand thunder claps sounding at once. Euri staggered to the side, falling down, stunned.

  The mage floated down from above where he had cast the spell and stalked towards her. Lesariu swooped in from the right as he raised his hands over his head to finish Mina. The bronze dragon was pelted with hundreds of tiny bursts of light from the magician. They left angry black smoldering spots on her pristine scales. Even so, she picked him up and tossed the mage into the air. Lesariu angled her head upwards and shoot a column of searing fire at him as he began to fall, his ashes caught on the currents of the wind.

  We found you with blood coming out of your ears and various scrapes and wounds. Eurydice patched you up as best she could. Lesa said softly.

  Euri pushed herself back, holding Mina at arm’s length. I’m sorry. She pleaded.

  “It’s not your fault, sister of my heart.” Mina hoped she whispered, holding the young woman close.

  We’re done here if you’d like to return home. Lesa offered sadly.

  Chapter 12

  Kelp clung to his shield and the scales of his black and red armor. Slowly he trudged along the rocky beach, picking his way around the wreckage of the Guisian cutter. Everywhere he looked were broken masts, ripped sails and bodies torn apart by the rocks and ferocity of the waves. Not for the first time, Tristan wondered at the wisdom of the choices of his life.

  Above him the steep cliffs of the western Deus coast loomed, foreboding and impassable. The harsh cliffs extended up beyond his ability to see; only birds found little crevices to build their nests in as they flew in and out of his visual range. Sighing, he continued his trek along the rocky beachfront.

  After what seemed like hours he’d picked all of the loose, dry kelp and seaweed from his armor and weapons. The sun rose high in the sky, drying what little of his was still wet. It wasn’t that he had expected the trip to be uneventful; it was the time that such petty distractions cost. Not to mention the lives of those around him. As always, his enemies underestimated him. Perhaps it was his age, their past victories over him or just the arrogance that came with being a high and mighty sorcerer.

  Regardless, Tristan was beginning to lose his sense of humor about the whole ordeal. It was as though a plan had been put into place to keep him occupied. He ached to have Maggie healthy and to begin some semblance of a normal life with her. If immortality was to be his curse, he would at least enjoy the pleasures of simple times for a few years before his life became no longer his own.

  “You really should pay more attention to your surroundings young man.” A female voice called from behind him.

  Tristan spun around to see an ancient looking old woman. Covered in a robe of deep purple, she stood only slightly taller than the tallest dwarf. Her face was a map of deep wrinkles; though she still had a glow to her cheeks that made Tristan chuckle as he pictured her traipsing around the island from dawn till dusk. The woman bore a staff of polished hickory with several ornate carvings along its length.

  While he wasn’t nearly as skilled with things magical as his mother and sister, he could smell the reek of magic rising off of the old woman. Since she hadn’t blasted him off her beach, he assumed she meant him no harm, though he was curious at how much damage she could inflict.

  “Enough to be getting on with.” She said with a smirk and theatrically narrowed eyes.

  The Prince was forced to laugh, he’d long ago become accustomed to magic and those that employed it to be overly irritated by her scanning his thoughts. “And who might you be?” He asked lightly.

  “I might be of great help to your youngster.” She said sarcastically.

  “How so?” Tristan asked, leaning against the spar of a destroyed ship of strange design.

  Despite the power that radiated off of her, Tristan felt an easy humor in their bantering. Smirking he began noticing small details about her. Her robe was finely tailored and had glyphs sown into its design, it looked more like a rather large piece of parchment than an actual garment. While the wrinkles in her facial features betrayed her age, she moved with a steady gait and the Prince had the distinct impression that she was his match in speed. Her eyes were bright and sure as she too observed him in detail. Under other circumstances he would have been fairly intimidated by the old woman.

  “And you bloody well better remember that lad.” She scolded half-heartedly pointing the end of her staff at him. “Gifts or no, there are those on this island that could turn you to a pile of cinders and how long do you think it would take to heal from that boy?”

  Tristan narrowed his eyes. “Can you read minds woman?”

  “The name’s Stella and yes, I know who you are, what you’ve done and what brings you here.” She replied lightly.

  “So, have you been sent to stop me then?” Tristan asked uncertainly.

  “Bah.” The old lady scolded. “I’d sooner take a leap of these cliffs than take orders from those idiots.”

  The Prince chuckled to himself. “Alright then, why show yourself to me?” He asked skeptically.

  “You know,” She began. “When I was scrying for you earlier, I could have sworn you were smarter than this.” The old woman made a mocking look of concern. “Did you hit your head when your boat went down?” She chuckled darkly.

  “Scrying?” Tristan asked in confusion.

  “Of course, you don’t think I just wander around these dangerous shores for fun do you?” She replied in irritation.

  The old woman waved off further discussion as she set off down the rocky beach. Hulks of great ships and small fishing boats alike littered the gravel at Tristan’s feet. Often a rotting corpse or mold covered mast would catch a rather large wave and wash up at his feet as he followed the woman without comment. With surprising agility she picked her way along the wreckages and bodies as she sought out her goal. Finally, she paused in front of a solid part of the cliff and made a satisfied groaning sound as she waved her staff in the air.

  Slowly the rock face melted away revealing a long cave. The old woman turned and smiled mischiev
ously at the Prince before making her way into the tunnel. The pathway was lit every few feet by what appeared to be torches along the walls. Upon closer inspection, Tristan found them to indeed be torch-like sticks, but the light that issues from the end of it was a simple circular nimbus. It was relatively cool to the touch and made a strange humming sound as it lit the surrounding area. The Prince was fascinated by its construction and attempted to ask about it, but the old woman ignored his questions with a knowing smile and continued leading along the tunnel.

  Eventually, after nearly cracking his head open on several stalactites that the smaller older woman easily avoided, they entered into a large cave that shockingly resembled that of Henjis. Along one of the walls were empty bookshelves, which had been carved into the side of the rock, another wall possessed what appeared to be a faded and highly damaged mural. He approached it slowly, hoping that it would be easier to view upon closer inspection. Tristan was completely unable to discern the contents of the mural; the drawings were faded and blended in with the colors of the wall.

  A large winding staircase rose above the entrance to the cave, the architecture was similar to that employed in the dwarven city and Tristan silently wondered about the designers. Were they dwarves, elves, or something else entirely? His silent musings were interrupted by the old woman who cleared her throat theatrically from across the large cave. She smiled as she motioned to one of the seats around a large metal brazier. The old woman reached behind her seat and grabbed several pieces of what looked to be wood from one of the wrecked ships. She tossed them into the brazier and used a broken paddle to blow a few small gust of wind onto the ambers, bringing the fire back to life. The fire began to crackle as it ate through the fuel and the woman looked contently at the Prince. He found holding her gaze to be disquieting to say the very least, though he refused to look away.