Draconis' Bane

by David Temrick

  Bright colors caught his eye from the paned windows in the shops along a brick road in a prosperous looking area of town. The bricks were of various colors arranged in a fashion that was drew the eye. Large ornately carved poles stuck out of road at intervals with cross beams on them, each of which supported an oil lamp. At the end of the block they found a large marketplace with a beautiful fountain. The center of the fountain held a large glittering dragon statue. It appeared to be made of crystals and gems. Water poured from its roaring mouth in a graceful arc.

  The dragon itself was about eight feet tall and the length of the pool at its base which looked to be about twenty feet wide. It had a long scaled neck at the top of which was a powerful looking head. It had narrow eyes with a square jaw, three tendrils hanging off its chin the middle one being the longest. Two horns swept straight back and fan-like ears went from under the jaw to just under the horns. It had a rounded nose and large spiked teeth. Running from its forehead all the way to the tip of its tail was a spiked mane of dense looking hair with spikes rising from them at intervals. It stood on all fours with its wings pinned to the side of its powerful body, a deadly looking talon on the end of each of three toes on each foot. It was only when he saw the feet that he could make out a small human in robes at its feet with its back to the mighty beast, it held a staff raised as if to cast a spell.

  “Amazing.” Tristan muttered.

  “I had something similar built in Kenting.” Kevin admitted. “It’s not nearly this spectacular though.”

  “It’s wonderful.” Tristan replied in awe.

  “That’s Draconis.” Kevin explained. “Some people worship him as if he were a God. I just think he’s a very old and powerful dragon.”

  “You’ve met him?!” Tristan blurted.

  “I haven’t, or at least I can’t remember having met him. Father has of course, but that was before.” His brother grimaced.

  “Before what?” Tristan asked.

  “Before Dragon Magic vanished.” Kevin replied darkly.

  “Why would that matter? He must be fifty feet tall! He wouldn’t need magic to survive.” Tristan said.

  “If he were facing one or maybe two dozen men it probably wouldn’t matter. However, shortly before you were born there was a thriving dragon hunter trade. Companies of mercenaries with the aid of sorcerers would hunt down dragons and harvest their blood and organs for potions and other arts.” His brother replied.

  “But, they’re so…amazing.” Tristan said breathlessly.

  “They are at that, aren’t they?” His brother said with a wistful smile. “Father never stood for it of course. He wouldn’t allow the companies into Vallius. Not that they didn’t try mind you. No one’s sure if Draconis is alive or dead, Father hasn’t seen him in almost thirty years.” Kevin concluded.

  “He must be the King of the Dragons.” Marveled Tristan, still staring wide eyed at the fountain.

  “That he might little brother. If dragons are truly immortal we may never see him again. With no magic for offspring they’ll likely be hunted down if they make their presence known. A shame really, in grandfather’s time dragons played an important role in our lives…now we seem to be on our own.” He concluded.

  “Amazing…” Tristan muttered again, shaking his head, as they cleared the marketplace and headed up the rise to the Keep.

  The gates to the Keep yard opened to admit them. A group of three men awaited, each of them was dressed in a white robe of the finest cloth with a purple sash over their left shoulders. The man in the middle wore wide golden bracelets with some intricate carvings on them that Tristan couldn’t make out sitting astride Pava.

  “Greetings young Princes, and welcome to Irudin Keep!” Spoke the centermost man.

  “Hello Henry, where’s Uncle Samuel?” Kevin asked in a friendly tone.

  “His Lordship is conducting court at the moment, I would be most honored to usher you in for presentation.” Henry replied stiffly.

  Dismounting on his right instead of his usual left so he could stand next to Tristan, Kevin whispered to his brother;

  “That’s not like Uncle Samuel at all. Keep alert little brother.”

  Confused, Tristan nodded slightly in reply as they followed Henry into the main hall of the keep. Looking around Tristan noticed more guards here than his own parents employed at their keep entrances. Instead of the usual pair, there were six. As they entered the main audience chamber Tristan also noticed that the court was made up primarily of armed men in full military uniform, his hand twitched at his side as Kevin whispered out of the corner of his mouth;

  “Now I know something’s not right. Get ready for trouble.”

  Tristan continued to allow his eyes to sweep the hall, looking for anything that seemed overly aggressive. Henry nodded to the Master of Ceremonies who pounded his iron clad staff as Henry presented the brothers. The younger Prince looked up towards his uncle, who sat comfortably on a throne that spoke volumes of its occupant.

  His father’s own throne wasn’t much more than a highly polished wooden chair with some fine jewels and gold inlaid into the carvings. Samuels looked to be made completely out of gold; jewels caught the sun shining in from the windows and sent lights dancing around the central hall in a merry display.

  “My Lord, may I present Princes of the Realm; Duke Kevin Vallious and Squire Tristan Vallious.” The Master of Ceremonies announced formally.

  All heads in the hall turned towards the brothers and more than a few eyes narrowed at their presentation. Tristan was well used to cold receptions, but this seemed to be as irritated and hostile crowd as he’d ever seen. As the brothers boot heels echoed in the completely silent hall Tristan could make out the members of court whispering to one another behind their hands. He tried to stretch out his mind as he had done when eavesdropping on his family; however, he was far too distracted to get much more than a general feeling of annoyance at their arrival.

  “Welcome my nephews!” Samuel welcomed, though he continued to sit in his opulent throne with his head held high. “What brings you to our humble town?”

  His voice was controlled and bright, though Tristan sensed some hesitation. Kevin seemed to have sensed it as well. Rather than show his hand though, he returned the light tone. Clearly this production had been staged to appear as though the Princes were nothing more than common messengers. Kevin seemed unwilling to play this game.

  “Just stopping for a rest Uncle Sa…”

  “You will address his honor as Your Lordship.” Henry interrupted from beside Kevin.

  “Pardon me?” Tristan answered, looking past his brother at the pompous assistant.

  “His Lordship Duke Samuel is master of these lands, you will address him accordingly.” Henry insisted, still looking straight ahead with his chin held high.

  Tristan turned to Kevin with his eyebrows raised. If he understood his country’s political system properly they both outranked Samuel quite a bit as crowned Princes of the Realm. Kevin didn’t return his look; he merely forced a smile and continued.

  “We’re simply stopping for a rest Your Lordship; we’ll be on our way west shortly after daybreak.” Kevin replied a little more formally, though his own annoyance with pomp was beginning to show through the fine veneer of politically corrected terminology.

  “Why did you not send a messenger ahead to ask permission?” Henry accused, finally looking at Kevin with a calculating look that Tristan was sure his brother wasn’t amused by.

  The younger Prince had long since run short of patience for the irritating peacock and it looked as though Kevin had as well. His large brother turned on the spot grabbed a handful of Henry’s robes and threw him back down the aisle where he landed in a heap, his face bright red with fury.

  “I will be addressed as Your Highness, Lord or General. You will learn your place Henry and stop interrupting me or I will stop being civil with you and have your strung up for treason.” Kevin commanded.

  Henry spat on t
he floor in front in reply.

  “Guards! Seize him and lock him in irons!” shouted Kevin.

  No one moved as Henry slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off arrogantly as he walked back to stand next to Patrician Samuel.

  “I think not.” Henry answered. “You are not in command here…”

  “The hell I’m not.” Kevin shouted. “Samuel! What’s the meaning of this?” Kevin directed at his uncle.

  “Well lad, it’s quite simple really. When you entered the city, you walked into Terum held lands. You don’t have any authority here…” Explained Samuel as the guards in the hall leapt into action. The large General and his younger brother were quickly subdued.

  “Now escort them to the dungeons while I decide the punishment for assaulting a member of my court.” Samuel waved them away dismissively.

  The guards muttered agreement as they frog-marched the two brothers out of the audience hall, their arms painfully bent behind their backs. They were forcefully escorted through the large hall doors they had entered through and once in the courtyard Tristan could see that his horse was being dragged away to the stables. Her frantic neighing caused Tristan’s anger to rise like a burning pit in his throat. With the two men holding his wrists made it impossible to do anything about her ill treatment. Tristan willed himself to calm his mind and his captors grips loosened slightly. Quickly he formulated a plan, the young Prince forced himself to completely relax and allow himself to be marched to what appeared to be the armory and dungeons.

  Glancing over at the baggage train, Tristan noticed a tarp covering one of the wagons open slightly and a man stick his head out. His face was oddly familiar to Tristan, but he couldn’t put a name to man. It occurred to him that once they entered the dungeons, they would have no hope of escape. In that moment he had made his decision.

  On his right step he planted his foot and swung his arms together. The guards holding his wrists were distracted by Kevin’s struggling and they tripped over each other at his unexpected movement. Tristan drew his sword and dagger in a flash, killing one man before he regained his feet. Behind him Henry screamed for more guards who came rushing out of the main hall. Tristan dispatched the second guard as one of the guards holding his brother released his hold and turned to face him. The guard drew his sword quickly and rushed forward with his sword held high. Allowing his instincts to take over as they had when practicing with his brother, Tristan forced himself to relax as the guard advanced on him.

  The guard swung an overhead slash wildly at Tristan, hoping to back him up. Instead, Tristan parried the swing with his sword and drove his dagger deep into the guards’ chest, piercing his heart and lung. The guard gurgled helplessly as he dropped to his knees; a trail of blood came out of the corner of his mouth as he swayed in place and then collapsed forward.

  Another guard released his older brother and came running towards Tristan, drawing his sword as he ran. The young Prince blocked the slash aimed at his left side with his dagger, spun around the man; putting himself back to back with the guard. Tristan flipped his grip on his sword and drove it deep into the guards back and through his stomach.

  Without the two extra guards holding him, Kevin yanked a hand free. An animalistic roar escaped his brother and he grabbed the nearest guard and drove his head into the guards’ nose. Blood showered everyone as the now dead guard collapsed uselessly on the ground. Kevin grabbed another guard by the tunic and launched him over Tristans’ head and into the oncoming force of guards who had come from the audience hall. The foremost guard was knocked back into the others, causing them all to go down in a heap of tangled bodies. Kevin then grasped the two remaining guards by their helmets and mercilessly smashed their heads together, shattering both of their skulls with his incredible strength.

  Tristan was so transfixed by his brothers amazing strength that he failed to see one of the guards free himself from the tangle of bodies on the ground and rush at him, sword unsheathed. The guard leapt into the air with a primal scream. Tristan turned and brought his sword up defensively. A throwing axe took the man in the side of the head, instantly killing him.

  It did little to stop the guards’ momentum though and his body crashed into Tristan. The guards’ corpse pinned the young man to the ground and his full metal plate armor made it impossible for Tristan to budge no matter how he tried to wiggle free. A strange sense of unease grasped Tristan as he heard footfalls coming his way. He began to struggle harder to get free and defend himself.

  A scared and weather beaten hand grabbed a hold of the dead guard and yanked him unceremoniously off of Tristan. The young Prince looked up as a stocky old warrior grabbed Tristan by the front of his black leather armor and pulled him to his feet.

  “No time to rest now lad!” He rasped as he clapped him on the back.

  Tristan had no time to reply or offer thanks as another guard rushed towards him, his sword swinging down wildly. Tristan rolled off to the left to give himself some room as he parried another blind slash. He came inside the guards’ blade and severed his sword arm between the elbow and wrist with his dagger. As the guards’ sword dropped to the ground, along with his severed hand, Tristan spun his dagger in his hand and drove it point up through the guards’ chin into his brain. Instantly the guards’ eyes rolled up inside his head. Tristan pulled his dagger free as he spun around. His sword seemed to almost have a mind of its own as he parried another slash and drove his dagger through his new opponents’ stomach.

  An impossibly large axe crashed down beside him easily slicing another guard’s head down the middle. Tristan looked over to find his brother, in full battle rage, yank the blade of his battle axe from the dead man’s’ head and booted the corpse into another enemy as he prepared himself to face the next foe. Four more guards fell to their three blades until all that was left was Henry and his two aides, standing shocked and shaken. Kevin advanced on them sheathing his axe into its metal and leather holster on his back. He grabbed Henry by the front of his robes and hoisted him up to his eye level.

  “Where are my men!?” Kevin shouted.

  Henry whimpered as his eyes cast nervously towards the dungeon. Kevin turned his head an addressed the man who had saved Tristans life.

  “Gerald, if you wouldn’t mind.” He said through clenched teeth.

  The old warrior nodded once and turned to leave as Tristan noticed one of Henry’s aides pull a blade from a leather bracer on his arm and move towards Kevin. With his left hand Tristan threw his dagger at the aide. It flew, spinning, through the air whistling as the wind passed between the split blades and pierced the aides’ throat. His eyes went wide as he dropped his dagger and put his hands up to staunch the flow of blood pouring from his neck.

  Tristan stalked over to the second aide and kicked him in the back of the knee. The young Prince grabbed a hand full of his hair, jerked his head back and held his sword to the aides’ throat. He looked up at his brother, who nodded his head once, Tristan spun on the spot bringing his sword singing through the air as he decapitated the screaming aide with a backhanded stroke.

  All of the remaining color drained from Henry’s face as he realized he was alone. A puddle of urine formed at his feet, dripping from his cross gartered leather sandals. He stammered apologies and invoked the names of God’s to protect him. Gerald returned with some of Kevin’s men, each supporting one of a ragged band of guards who looked malnourished, a few of them showing signs of infections and illness. Apparently, these malnourished Vallious soldiers had refused to go along with the new administration of Irudin and had been locked up and tortured as a result.

  “Take them to the barracks and see to it that the sick get help and find them some food Gerald.” Kevin instructed.

  “Right you are my Lord.” He replied smiling, offering a slightly mocking salute before winking at Tristan.

  “Now,” Kevin turned his angry gaze on Henry. “How about we go and find your Lord and Master, shall we?” Henry whimpered affirmative as Kevin d
ragged him effortlessly back into the main audience chamber by the front of his robes.

  In the flurry of action Kevin must have sent his men into the keep to arrest the Patrician. As they entered Samuel had four sword points leveled at him by soldiers bearing the blue tabard of the raven over a black rock. Tristan walked at his brothers right side again as they made their way to the front of the room. Kevin threw Henry into the waiting two soldiers arms where one clapped his hands in irons behind his back and the other drew his sword and trained it on the little mans chest.

  “Alright, My Lord,” Kevin said snidely. “Shall we start with the why?”

  “Why what, you impudent dog?!” Samuel’s voice cracked, betraying his actual fear as he continued the façade of strength.

  Tristan could feel the rage coming off of Kevin like steam from a hot bath. Tristan had long ago accustomed himself to disrespectful treatment, though Kevin seemed to find it more amusing than anything else. Kevin stepped forward and delivered a painful looking backhand to his uncle with his metal plated glove. Spitting blood, Samuel made eye contact again. Looking defeated and finally a little scared for his life.

  “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Kevin demanded.

  Gerald walked into the hall at that moment giving Samuel the chance to formulate his words. He walked over and stood next to Tristan, placing a hand on the young Princes shoulder and looking over to Kevin.

  “The men are fed and the sick are being attended to General. Three of them died in the dungeons and two won’t recover from their illnesses. With the guards we killed outside that leaves less than twenty household guards.” Gerald explained.