Draconis' Bane

by David Temrick

  “I was just going to get some fresh air…” He replied sheepishly.

  She held her hand out, “Come here, I’ll give you all the fresh air you could need.” She said, smiling warmly.

  As they coupled again Tristan’s mind was reeling, despite her beauty the Prince sensed there was something not quite right with this situation. All such doubts were driven by his mind by Mina’s mounting pleasure and all of his concerns disappeared into vapor as her lips found his.

  ~

  “My Lord.” Knight-Captain Robertson called.

  “What?” Tristan croaked.

  “You’re being summoned for morning court Tristan. Time to drag yourself out of bed you pup!” Robertson scolded.

  “Alright, alright, I’m getting up.” He exclaimed with mock irritation. “Can you put aside some clothes for me? I need to go splash some water on my face.” He asked; half awake.

  Tristan got out of bed and stumbled over to the bathroom; he pumped water out of the tap and doused his head. The cold of the morning water caused him to gasp and immediately woke him up. Drying off his head with a towel he inspected his shoulder. The dressing should really be changed, but there was no time at the moment.

  He quickly dressed, tying his hair back and left the apartment grabbing his sword belt and strapping it on as he made his way into the hallway. A servant awaited and Tristan nodded as he set off directing the Prince to the main chamber. Robertson caught up to the Prince, a slightly mocking smile on his face.

  “Had a good time last night Your Highness?” He asked, smirking.

  “It was educational my friend.” He replied back.

  “Educational. An interesting choice of words this morning, Your Highness.” Robertson replied laughing.

  The servant indicated a pair of large doors and scurried off on another task. Tristan had just finished putting on his belt as the Guisian soldiers on either side of the doors opened them to admit the Prince into the main chamber. The room was larger than any he’d seen thus far, the ceiling appeared to be made entirely of glass admitting the morning sunlight into the room.

  There were large silk banners woven into the pillars marking a path to the throne. Cushions were scattered around the room with many minor functionaries seated off to the sides of the room, and the more powerful lining the pathway. The most powerful noblemen were seated in front of the large semi-circle staircase. There were a dozen or so steps up to the plateau in which the throne was located.

  Throne was a relative term here, as with everything there was a collection of cushions with a large ornamental marble arc running behind them. The Raj was seated in the middle, his wife and daughter to his left and Akbar on his right.

  Tristan bowed low, “Your Highness honors me by inviting me into his court.”

  The Raj waved away the honorific, “Think nothing of it Your Grace, my home is yours.” He replied smiling. He indicated to his right, and Tristan sat next to Akbar. The Prince looked over at Mina, who smiled warmly bringing color to Tristan’s face.

  Court commenced and Akbar would announce each speaker to come forward and then he would quietly whisper brief snippets of information on them. Tristan was most impressed with the structure of their court, each speaker was courteous and direct in their approach. It reminded the young Prince of Kevin’s court. Tristan’s, on the other hand, had been full of whining and complaining with very little in the way of suggestions for how they’d like the situation handled. He made a mental note that he needed to lead the way the Raj and his brother did. If nothing else came of it at least his sanity would be kept in check.

  “My Lord, there have been increasing bandit activity between our cities. I request that each city be given permission and financing to employ a dozen more militia each.” Requested a lavishly dressed supplicant.

  The Raj considered this request, leaned over and whispered quietly with Akbar, and then gave his decision. “You have my permission, and I will gladly fund a third of the financing for these men. The cities they will patrol between will split the rest.”

  The speaker bowed as Akbar leaned over to whisper to Tristan. “That was Kulinu, he’s a powerful merchant from here in Delhi, and he’s not given to over-indulging the truth for higher profits as many of his associates are. The Raj allowed the concession more out of respect for his associates trust in Kulinu than for the necessity of the money.” He explained.

  Tristan nodded, deeply impressed with the diplomacy used for even the most mundane requests. He was also becoming distracted by Mina looking over at him and smiling warmly. The memories of last night mixed with her attention roused his longing for her. Court proceeded for a few more hours as his fascination with Guisian politics slowly gave way to his grumbling stomach.

  A short time later, Akbar announced that court was adjourned for the day and the merchants and nobles made their way out of the hall. Meanwhile Tristan was ushered into a comfortable room behind the throne. Along one side of the room there were open archways out into another large garden with a fountain in the middle of it.

  Water streamed out of the top of the fountain and slowly progressed down the four tiers before dumping into the pool at the base. It was made entirely of marble and trimmed in gold, which gave the water a sparkling effect as though it too, was rich. The Raj and his wife sat at the sole table in the room surrounded by cushions and laden with all manner of food and drink.

  After a few minutes of polite conversation over a light breaking of fast, the Raj surprised Tristan mid-sip from his glass of water. “I understand you’ve taken my daughter for a lover Prince Tristan.” He commented lightly.

  Tristan nearly spat the water out; instead he forced it down, coughing slightly.

  “No need for embarrassment young Prince, my daughter is of age and is free to chose her mates as she wishes.” He consoled.

  Mina wrapped her arm around his, placing her head on his shoulder. The soft feel of her hands on his arm and the intoxicating scent of her perfume was playing havoc the young man’s senses. The Prince still couldn’t fathom that she was under his spell, he was quite sure it was just the opposite. He tried to clear his throat to speak.

  “Your Highness, I…” He stammered.

  “I won’t hear of it. Worry not young Prince. You are a far better match than I’m likely to find among my sycophantic nobles.” He dismissed. “Besides, we Guisians have a slightly less formal process for mating than your countrymen.” The Raj explained.

  The Prince was relieved that he hadn’t caused insult, but he wasn’t sure what was being said. Akbar must have sensed his hesitation as he spoke. “Prince Tristan. In Guis, a woman chooses who she will, there is no wasted time bantering back and forth about what is already a foregone conclusion in her mind.” He explained.

  “There is no, how do your people say, Battle of the Sexes here. Men and women are equal and while marriage is still a covenant, the young and available take mates as they please.” He explained.

  Tristan was still very uncomfortable that the whole royal family was well aware of his...activities. He accepted what he was being told as the truth from their point of view, much in the way that he accepted everything that had happened to him since waking from his nightmare. He smiled uneasily as the Raj let forth a boisterous laugh. After a rather enjoyable meal, Tristan and Mina escaped to the gardens around the palace.

  For weeks they enjoyed their time walking around together, talking, kissing, and making love under a large fruit tree. Every night he fell asleep with her in his arms and every morning he woke to find her out of bed and waiting for him in the main chamber for morning court. Slowly he migrated from his seat to Akbar’s right, to sit next to his love.

  After a month of this, he was invited to sleep in her apartments, which became more of a home to him than any place he could remember. Long nights of inventive love-play, discussing the future and exchanging stories made the Prince feel as though he was floating on air.

  ~

  Three months lat
er, while enjoying another evening meal with The Raj and his family, a horn sounded from the courtyard. Akbar looked towards the doors as one of his aides came rushing in. They exchanged some whispers and Akbar announced; “General Fudi has returned My Lord.”

  “Excellent!” The Raj said. “Prince Tristan, please come and meet one of my finest royals.”

  The Raj led everyone out into the courtyard where a tall man of average build was climbing down the rope ladder used to mount the large war elephants. He smiled at the Raj and came forward, bowing down to one knee.

  “Your Highness. I humbly greet you.” The General said formally.

  “Rise, rise my friend. It is good to see you home at last.” The Raj stepped forward and hugged the General. He stepped away holding the General by the arms. “You look well. The cowards are routed?”

  General Fudi returned the grasp.

  “They are, they dug themselves in by an oasis. We drove them out in time.” He explained.

  “Well done.” The Raj congratulated. “We’ve had a visitor while you’ve been gone.”

  “Oh?” Asked Fudi.

  “Yes indeed.” Raj Julpinu turned and called Tristan forward. “May I introduce, Duke Tristan of Durshire.”

  Fudi extended his arm and grasped the inside of Tristans forearm.

  “The Prince Tristan?” He asked, and Tristan nodded. “Well, your reputation precedes you My Lord.”

  Tears gathered in Fudi’s eyes as he looked over Tristans shoulder. He released his grip on Tristan’s arm and in two strides had Mina in a tight embrace.

  “My love, how I’ve missed you.” He choked.

  Tristan looked from the Raj, to his wife, then finally to Mina looking for an explanation. Mina pushed away from Fudi and walked over to Tristan, encircling her arm in his.

  “It is good to see you alive and well General.” She replied stiffly and then she guided Tristan back into the palace. The Prince didn’t know what was going on, but as soon as they were back in her apartments he was going to find out.

  The Duke hadn’t heard so much yelling since his nightmares. Fudi had followed them back to her apartments, pushed him aside and thrust Mina into the room. He’d locked the door and no one was able to get in, least of all Tristan who fumed in the hallway as he heard loud voices arguing. His temper was beginning to rise inside him like a bear, ready to strike.

  Eventually the door was flung open and Fudi drove his shoulder into Tristan’s as he stormed out of the room. Prince Tristan entered to find Mina crying on her bed, mumbling incoherently to herself in her native tongue. Tristan couldn’t think of anything to do, so he gently put his hand on the small of her back, rubbing there in a consoling way. Mina flung her arms around his neck as she continued to sob loudly.

  The young woman cried herself to sleep that night.

  General Fudi wasn’t in court the following morning. Tristan had left Mina to the tender mercies of her chatelaine and sat to Peria’s right. After court was through they’d shared a noticeably somber breakfast and Tristan was quietly sent back to his love. The change couldn’t have been any more pronounced.

  When he entered her apartments she flew into his arms as though they’d been apart for years. Her frenzied passion was met by his, as they made love in the steaming heat of the bathtub. Mina seemed unwilling to discuss the situation further but it was clear to Tristan that Fudi and she had once been lovers.

  He’d long ago been explained the way things worked in Guis, but he still felt vaguely guilty for the pain he’d caused. The third day after the General’s return, he came to the main chamber for morning court. At breakfast they made strained discussion and afterwards Fudi invited Tristan for a walk.

  Months ago Tristan had given up walking around armed at all times, and today he questioned that decision as they walked around the palace grounds.

  “I’ve been told that you and Mina are rather fond of one another.” The General said, though it seemed to Tristan as though he was asking.

  “I love her if that’s what you mean.” Tristan replied.

  “It is.” Fudi said. After a few quiet tense moments, he spoke again. “I know that she feels great affection for you. I had planned to petition her father for our marriage.” He blurted.

  Tristan’s jealousy flamed like the green-eyed demon it was and he spoke hotly. “You may, though I don’t see what a soldier can offer her that I cannot.” He shot.

  General Fudi stopped; he turned and slowly regarded the younger man.

  “Of that I have no doubt young Lord.” He replied abruptly and stormed away.

  Fudi was obviously frustrated and angry that the situation was completely outside of his control. It was the first time Tristan had ever asserted his rank and he’d known it has been a cruel jab. He wasn’t convinced that this was the last he was going to hear about this love affair before the end of the day. Thinking ahead, the Prince quickly made his way back to his apartment and retrieved his weapons from the wardrobe there. He was cinching up his belt when Knight-Captain Robertson walked in.

  “Expecting trouble, my Lord?” He asked.

  “Yes, and I dare say you know why.” Tristan replied sarcastically.

  “I make it my business to know why, young pup.” Robertson replied with a smirk.

  Tristan looked up to find the Knight-Captain smiling his sarcastic half-smile.

  “Have you ever loved someone Lance?” He asked.

  “Indeed I have boy.” He replied.

  “What did it feel like?” Tristan asked, suddenly feeling very young and unsure of himself.

  “What did it feel like?” Robertson asked, Tristan replied with a nod of his head as the Captain sighed.

  “Well, I guess it felt like I would die without her.” He replied.

  “Where is she?” Tristan probed.

  “Died, in childbirth, as did my son.” Robertson replied somberly, losing his smile.

  “I’m sorry.” Tristan replied quietly.

  “Don’t be lad. As they say; that’s what the fates had in store for me.” Robertson admitted.

  A knock interrupted their discussion as a Guisian servant stuck his head into the room.

  “They’re calling for you in the main chamber My Lord.” He said quickly and darted back out.

  “Wanna bet it’s that Fudi character?” Robertson asked.

  “No bet. Assemble the men.” Tristan asked, as Robertson moved towards the second room. “In dress uniform.” He added.

  The Knight Captain groaned dramatically and kicked the door to the soldiers room open, causing the young monarch to laugh.

  Tristan fidgeted with his tunic; he was now used to the humidity here, but putting a thick Vallius tunic on made him chafe. Guards opened the large double doors to admit the Prince and his guards into the main chamber. He wasn’t surprised to find that General Fudi standing there in his full dress uniform to the left of the throne.

  The Prince approached the throne, bowing low to Raj Julpinu who spoke quietly. “Prince Tristan, it pains me to say this, my young friend, so please bear with me.” He began.

  “General Fudi has requested huego-todo.” The Raj blurted.

  “And just what the bloody hell is that!?” Knight-Captain Robertson yelled at Tristan’s side. The Prince put a restraining hand on the Captains arm.

  “A duel, My Lord.” Offered Akbar. “To the death.” He added, his eyes widening dramatically.

  “I see,” Tristan began. “You think that one of us dying is going to solve this issue do you?” He directed at the General.

  In response Fudi began unfastening his tunic, a murderous glare in his eyes. Tristan sighed as he also removed his tunic and slowly drew his sword. Fudi threw his tunic aside and drew his falchion with a sadistic grin. The Prince supposed that the General was laboring under the mad idea that Tristan was unfamiliar with duels. Sadly, that assumption was about to cost someone his life he mused darkly.

  Fudi leapt off the plateau bringing his sword down on the Prince
. Tristan raised his sword and parried the attack as Fudi’s momentum carried him past the young Duke. Fudi spun around, calculating distances as he prepared to strike. He launched an over-head slash which when Tristan deflected, surprisingly it turned into a swipe across his stomach.

  Tristan jumped back as Fudi’s blade sliced through the Princes’ shirt. Tristan was prepared as the thrust came next and used his blade to bat Fudi’s aside. The Prince spun around and brought his sword slashing towards Fudi’s neck. The experienced General raised his blade and caught Tristans, deflecting it upwards and dangerously exposing Tristan’s torso. Fudi used his speed to good effect delivering a shallow slice along the side of Tristan’s ribs.

  The Prince drew in a sharp breath, feeling the wound with his free hand as Fudi smiled widely. While not inexperienced, he felt like he was in over his head. Fudi feigned a thrust, which Tristan batted aside only to find Fudi’s blade swinging around at his neck, Tristan’s blade snapped up and blocked the strike. Using his superior height, Tristan pushed the General back for a break.

  The Prince was quickly losing his temper as every one of Fudi’s attacks seemed to be aimed at humiliating him, rather than killing him as the ridiculous rules suggested. Tristan assumed that the challenge was meant more to instill fear in the young man, rather than any real intention in killing him.

  Instead of looking for killing strokes, Tristan’s tactics changed, he set about not to lose. As the thrusts, parries and reposts continued Tristan passed up obvious killing strokes for slices to enrage the older more experienced swordsman. After fifteen minutes of back and forth, both men’s shirts were soaked with blood and sweat and their grip on their blades began to suffer for it.

  Tristan found himself dangerously off balance as his hilt slipped slightly in his grip during a thrust. Seeing the weakness Fudi lashed out, only to find that Tristan had faked the slip. The Princes blade snapped up deflecting the blow and inflicting a slice along the inner arm of the General.