Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2)

by David Temrick

  Most of his soldiers challenged the orc invaders in pairs, using their speed to good effect as they hacked and slashed away at the attackers. The only boon was that even after the earth shattering blast, the breach wasn’t large enough to admit enough orcs to tip the balance.

  High above them all the elder dragons commanded the younglings in battle with what remained of the magicians and their purple dragons. One such mystic dragon dove towards the defenders lines, forcing Kevin to shout out for his men to hold. The dragon wouldn’t land; it would be quickly swarmed and destroyed. He wondered what the beasts master was planning.

  All too soon the plan was revealed though as the largest orcs Kevin had ever seen leapt from the back of the dragon. With arms outstretched, the terrifying orc let loose a battle cry as he fell towards the Terumite Army. Speed bordering on the supernatural, Kevin grabbed a spear from the soldier next to him and threw it with all his might.

  The spear flew straight and true, though the orc attempted to dodge its flight. It drove into his left shoulder and sent the orc tumbling through the air. He crashed into a ballistae crew, breaking two of their necks and incapacitating the other three as he rolled to his feet, snapping off the point of the spear on the cobblestones.

  His breathing was uneven as he rose slowly to his feet and pulled the remaining shaft out of his shoulder. The enormous orcs’ blood was a garish green color, and it poured freely from the wound to his shoulder. Never the less, he pulled his jagged sword from its sheath and slammed it down into the skull of the first human defender who approached him.

  “Mind the breach! Leave this one to me.” Kevin commanded.

  The orc leapt up and perched himself on one of the large wheels on the ballistae. The orc snarled as Kevin motioned for his troops to move towards the breech and he walked forward to face the large creature. He had no idea what to expect, and what happened next was the farthest thing from his mind.

  The orc roared and leaped athletically from the wheel, bringing his sword up and crashing down on Kevin’s unprotected head. Only his reflexes saved him as the eldest Prince dodged off to his left, pulling a dirk from his boot and driving it into where the creature’s liver ought to be. The orc stumbled forward from the unexpected blow, but he quickly recovered.

  He pulled the dagger from his side and tossed it aside as he snarled once again, preparing his sword for another strike. Instead of drawing back, Kevin stepped forward and drove the pointed head of his axe into the creatures’ stomach. It let a whimper of pain escape before growling. The orc wound up and backhanded the elder Prince with a punishing blow that broke his nose.

  Kevin spun from the blow and fell to one knee. With incredible speed the orc leapt forward and brought his sword down in a swipe designed to cleave his human opponent in two. Kevin rolled away, spun in place and readied himself for another strike. Already his left eye was closing due to the damage sustained from the strike from the orcs’ metal gloved hand.

  His vision began to blur and take on a red tinge as he forced his left eye to obey him and stay open. The orc lowered himself slightly, preparing to launch another offensive, when a defenders arrow took him mere inches from the dagger wound Kevin had already inflicted. All pretense of cunning was thrown away like so much ash on the wind. The orc roared again and launched a powerful combination of attacks.

  The orc brought his sword across in a slashing move aimed at Kevin’s abdomen. The Prince leapt back and let the strike go wide and drove his foot into the injured side of the orc. The creature howled in pain and reversed the strike, bringing his blade back looking to cleave the elder Prince in twain.

  Kevin’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of the orcs forearm and slowing the blow down just enough to drive his forehead into the orcs nose. The large orc stumbled backwards, temporarily blinded by the Prince’s counter-attack. Kevin jumped forward, bringing his axe up over his shoulder and crashing down on the orc.

  The large creature looked up with a sadistic smile as he stepped forward and drove his sword right down to the hilt into the Prince’s stomach. Kevin’s eyes widened in shock and his axe fell from his limp fingers. He looked down at the hilt of the sword and the blood already pouring from his gaping wound.

  The world lost its color and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. The orc growled in triumph as he pulled his sword free and Kevin fell to his knees. The elder Prince swayed in place for a moment and he heard the unmistakable sound of sword cleaving air and knew this was his last moment of life. A loud clang of metal on metal rang in his ears and he fell backwards as he passed out.

  ~

  “My Lord!” General Frose shouted as he watched Kevin Vallious take a sword thrust to the stomach.

  The tide of battle was shifting as more and more orcs cleared the breach and pushed the defenders back. Already infantry soldiers were grabbing unfamiliar orcish bows and doing their best to stem the flow of rancid bodies through the destroyed freight doors.

  The orc in front of him widened his eyes in shock as he looked down. Frose followed to where he was looking and was shocked to see what could only be called a dwarf standing at his feet. His axe was jammed up into the orcs stomach and he barked a laugh as he shoved it farther up, puncturing the creature’s heart and lungs.

  “Look’d like ye need’d help there laddie!” The diminutive warrior shouted.

  Frose looked around the battle as numerous orcs fell backwards some similar attacks. A volley of arrow fire took down another rank with surprising accuracy, drawing his attention to the battlements. Tall lanky figures let fly from curiously carved bows, each arrow taking the life of an orc attacker until the breach was void of invaders once more.

  General Frose looked around for Lord Vallious, hoping to get between the orc and his prey. The large orc was locked in battle with one of the tall humanoid figures. While they were alike in height, the humanoid gave up at least one-hundred pounds in weight to the vicious orc. With inhuman speed the pair of them slashed and parried at one another.

  Any human soldier who came too close was quickly driven back by the impressive exchange. Frose called back his soldiers and ordered archers to take aim, but hold their fire lest they hit the humanoid. He watched in open astonishment as the pair of them parried and struck each other. The ground beneath them was splattered with garish green and bright red splashes of blood as each combatant drew wounds on their opponent.

  The orc pulled an arrow from its wound in his side and drove it towards the humanoid. With inhuman speed the thinner fighter spun, blocking the stabbing motion of the orc, and came around using both hands to cleave the creatures head from its shoulders. A fountain of green blood shot out of its severed arteries and it pitched forward dead.

  ~

  Three orcs stumbled into the hallway as Tristan slammed the door to his room shut. He didn’t even have the time to put his belt on. He grabbed the hilts of his sword and dagger and pulled them clear of their scabbards as he prepared himself for a fight.

  The smallest orc was first back to his feet and he snarled as he rushed forward, aiming the tip of his sword at the unarmored Prince. Tristan bent his knees slightly, standing there in only his trousers, and readied himself. He twisted his blade around, batting the orcs off to the side and drove his elbow up into its jaw. The momentum of its run carried it off its feet and the orc landed painfully on its back and slid a few feet.

  Air exploded out of its lungs and it fought to draw breath in vain as Tristan’s sword was driven through was served as its heart. A small shower of green blood shot out of the wound as Tristan pulled his sword free in time to swat aside a clumsy swing from the next orc with his dagger. The orc was off balance and slammed into the wall. The Prince reversed his grip on his sword and drove it into the back of the orc, instantly killing it.

  The last orc had gotten around him and kicked open the door to his room. Tristan rushed forward as the orc ran into his bedroom. A burst of light was followed by the sound of a small explosion as the orc wa
s thrown back out of the room. His head exploded as he collided with the wall. The dead orc slid down the wall, leaving a disgusting green bloody streak behind.

  Jonathan poked his head out of the doorway, using his hands to keep him upright. They still glowed with the power he’d used to kill the orc. He smiled in his mischievous way, and ran out into the hallway. Tristan dropped his blades as he dropped to one knee and his son hugged him fiercely around his neck. The Prince laughed as he stood up, holding onto his son. Mina walked out of the room, smiling with pride as she walked towards them.

  ~

  A woman slowly made her way through his soldiers. She was splendid in silver armor that glinted in the sunlight. Her raven black hair blew behind her, held away from her face by the strangest helmet; it protected the sides and top of her head, but left her face blessedly free.

  The old General concluded that she was the fairest woman he’d ever seen, though the cast of her features marked her as something different than the typical woman. A gust of wind blew her hair away from her upswept ears and he finally realized what these humanoids were. Unable to hide his astonishment he blurted;

  “Elves.”

  “Indeed, sir. Where can I find young Prince Tristan?” She asked. Her musical voice seemed to fill his head and lighten his heart.

  “He, he was injured and was taken to his rooms.” Frose stammered.

  The elf woman smiled warmly and Frose felt as though his legs might fail him. Shaking his head roughly to clear his thoughts he directed one of the Captains to take over command and keep the breach defended. The elf turned and looked at one of her companions who nodded and followed Frose’s Captain and took command of the elves. She then turned back to Frose and motioned for him to escort her. The old war dog clumsily held his arm out, drawing a warm chuckle from the elf as she wrapped her arm around his.

  The precession included the elf, who introduced herself as Giani, the dwarf, who introduced himself as Neran and himself. Frose felt supremely uncomfortable, a feeling that only intensified as the elf began asking questions about the palace.

  “What are those wires running along the ceiling?” She asked gazing up.

  “Huh?” Frose stammered, looking to where she indicated. “Oh. Those are attached to cords in each room; they’re run through the palace down to the kitchens where they’re attached to bells used to summon servants.”

  “Clever.” The elf complimented.

  “No’ much else ha’ chang’d though hey mistress?” The dwarf commented.

  “Sorry.” Frose interjected. “Changed? Have you been here before?” He asked, looking from the dwarf to the elf.

  “Oh yes.” Giani answered earnestly. “But that was centuries ago when we were helping to build it.”

  “Aye. S’was a grand party.” Neran grunted, patting his belly in memory. The elf smiled in reply.

  “But. Wait. How old are you?” Frose stammered, disentangling himself from her arm.

  “By the look of her I’d say five-hundred or thereabouts?” Tristan called.

  The Prince held his son in his arms, his mother at their side walking down the hallway towards them. He used his free arm to hug the laughing elf Queen and shake the dwarfs hand as Frose looked on, still in shock.

  The elf looked from Tristan to his son, who was staring at her in open fascination. “This is the boy then?” Mina stepped forward protectively as the elf held her hands out towards the young man. Tristan consoled her with a brief look before handing his son over to the elf.

  “Lucky he got her looks I say.” The dwarf commented.

  Everyone laughed in reply as Frose continued to look at the elf, trying to see how Tristan had gauged her age. She appeared to be perhaps middle aged, though her fare skin showed no hint of the wrinkles his sun burnt visage had.

  “He is quite special.” The elf finally judged, handing him to Mina. She looked hard at Tristan before continuing. “We need to talk.” She pronounced.

  “General.” Tristan called his old friends attention off his continued staring at the elf woman.

  “M’Lord?” He stammered.

  “We’ll be in the main throne room, see that we’re not disturbed unless it’s an emergency.” The Prince instructed calmly.

  “What of the rest of the orcs M’Lord?” Frose asked.

  “Did you bring him with you?” Tristan asked of the elf.

  “He’s in charge of the rear attack.” She said with a proud smile.

  Tristan chuckled in response. “I’m sure he’ll be something of a shock for them. Well General, you can push them back down the freight tunnel, but don’t go past the walls and don’t fire from the walls. Let the elves and their allies sort it out. Just defend our walls.” He instructed.

  Frose saluted, turned and began walking away.

  “Oh!” Tristan called after him. “If a tall, thin orc looking fellow comes up to the wall and announces himself as Tulio, be sure to let he and his men into the city to rest, they’ll be tired.”

  Frose saluted again, clearly showing his confusion as he walked away to a chuckle from the elf woman directed at his Prince.

  ~

  “So what is it we need to talk about?” Tristan asked, sitting at the long table off to the left of the throne. Power was just something that didn’t appeal to him, and any chance the Prince had to abandon formality he relished. Fallout from the Nightmare Spell he mused darkly.

  “What do you intend to do with the remaining modified orcs?” She asked bluntly.

  “Right now Draconis, King Dion, Socolis, Princess Eurydice and Bethia are commanding what remains of the dragon younglings in the annexation of the race of magically tampered orcs.” Tristan replied calmly as Mina fidgeted with Jonathan next to him.

  The Queen and Dwarf Prince took up chairs opposite him at the table as servants rushed in baring trays of sweetmeats, wine and water for his guests. The Queen took an experimental sip of the wine a servant had poured for her and made a satisfied face. Neran on the other hand pushed his aside and pinched his nose as he drained his flagon of water. Tristan chuckled and instructed the servant to bring out three flagons of his own lager.

  “Tulio would like to re-educate them.” The Queen replied as she put down her glass.

  “Sorry. I can’t allow that.” Tristan said.

  “Allow?” The Queen said, narrowing her eyes slightly. Under other circumstances Tristan might have found the look she was giving him with fear or at least concern. After the events of the last few days, his sense of propriety and patience was spent.

  “Yes. Allow.” Tristan continued. “Elves might be safe, these orcs haven’t been bred to hate your kind, but they’re too much of a threat to our kind. If any of them displayed even the semblance of remorse for what they’ve done here the last few days, I might be convinced to give Tulio the chance.”

  “Told ya.” Neran observed.

  “You won’t even consider it?” She asked politely.

  “Considering my parentage, do you really think I would risk our world turning into another Fangoria?” Tristan asked.

  “No. I suppose not.” She observed. “Dragon spawn have a unique view of the world.”

  “No other species has safe guarded the world like they have. You hide in your forests, your minds stuck in books that preach of kindness and gentle persuasion. Yet, your armorers create blades sought the world over. A strange hypocrisy to sit here and talk of peace.” Tristan accused.

  “Now wait jus a minute laddie.” Neran interjected.

  “I’m not hearing any of it you two. I want you to be part of our world, but I won’t sacrifice lives to do it. If those orcs are left alive, they’ll breed, multiply and come back. They’ve been bred to hate humans and dragons alike and after your help today, it’s very likely they’re going to hate elves and dwarves as well. They’ve been bred and raised to be zealots and I’ll see an end to their wholesale murderous rampage.” He cut across them.

  The Queen sat there a moment, thinking on
what was said or planning her next rebuttal, either wouldn’t have been much of a surprise. The lager was brought out and Neran busied himself sampling the robust flavor of the beer.

  “Fine.” The elf Queen finally announced. “I’ll bow to your wisdom. What are your plans now though?” She asked looking from he to Mina and Jonathan.

  Tristan leaned back in his chair, wincing slightly from his many wounds. “After the orcs are destroyed, we’ll drive what’s left of their army out of Terum, seal the gateway and rebuild.”

  “And your son?” She asked.

  “He’ll need to be educated. I’m going to look to the elves and dwarves to teach him history, since most of you lived through it.” He added sardonically. “Then he’ll be taught by King Dion on how to rule the lands of men, leaving the elves and dwarves to rule themselves as always.”

  “What if we grow tired of our isolation?” Queen Giani asked.

  Tristan sat forward, placing his arms on the table in front of him. “What do you propose?”

  Chapter 17

  Jonathan played with Beths’ hair as she carried him to Tristan’s right. Mina had her arm wrapped around Tristan’s left arm. Neran walked beside a terribly nervous General Frose who had Queen Giani holding onto his arm as he escorted her through the rebuilding town of Terum around them.

  “Yer engineers make good progress.” Neran observed.

  “Anything’s possible with dwarfish contraptions to help them out.” Tristan added with a crooked smile.

  In front of them a dwarfish work team was operating a crane as humans aligned the roof they were lifting into place on the walls of the town hall. Neran was correct though, Tristan mused, the town had simply woken up driven to repair itself. With dwarfish help, the human engineers had made astonishing progress.