Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (14 page)

Breathing was becoming more difficult,
between his damaged nose and now an open wound in his side, he was
becoming short of breath. The King got to his feet quickly and
began and quick and powerful series of strikes. Tristan blocked
them all, but had to backup as he did so and was soon off balance
and kicked to the ground. The King returned the favor kicking
Tristan in the face with the side of his boot as the Prince began
to rise.

Tristan rolled down into the ditch that ran
along the road. Covered in mud, bruises and his blood, he pushed
himself back to his feet as the King leaped from the road, bringing
his sword crashing down with both arms. The Prince couldn’t raise
his arms in time, so he rolled off to his left. Boris’ sword struck
mud where Tristan had been moments before. The King recovered
quickly as he swung his sword around and tried to decapitate
Tristan. The Prince ducked under the strike and leaped forward,
running the edge of his sword along the King’s exposed abdomen.

The King gasped in pain, reaching down and
feeling where Tristan had opened him up along his stomach. The
Prince hadn’t rolled again though, as the King suspected. Instead,
he stopped himself stood with his back to Boris, and as the King
turned around with his sword raised Tristan reversed his grip on
his sword and drove the blade deep into Boris’ stomach. The King’s
chin came to rest on Tristan’s shoulder as he took his last
rattling breath. The Prince stepped forward, letting Boris’
lifeless body tumble back down into the ditch.

“NOW!” Tristan shouted and his army rushed
forward to engage the last of the King’s soldiers. He took one
shaky step forward, and then fell backwards into the ditch where he
rolled to a stop. His vision began to go black as men rushed
towards him. Tristan could see Captain Robertson looking down on
him.

“I’m coming old man.” He muttered before he
passed out.

Drake and Euri sat in the gardens playing
catch with young Jonathan. Mina and Peria watched on in fascination
as the three of them tossed small apples and pears to one another,
using only their minds. Mina’s son was only two years old and
already she felt as though his life was taking a dangerous path
that she likely couldn’t follow him down. As the dragon in human
form and young Princess played with her giggling son she tried to
shake the profound sadness that had inexplicably gripped her when
Tristan had left.

The manipulation that had forged their
coupling and eventually her pregnancy with their son had left a
scar that no spell or tonic could seem to heal. It was like having
an open wound on the roof of your mouth that refused to heal and
you couldn’t help but poke at. She was deeply disturbed that the
feelings that had felt so real, and then hurt so badly could
resurface anew and without magical interference.

She had thought long and hard about asking
her mother to arrange their marriage, hoping that even if the
feelings proved to fade in time at least Jonathan’s father would be
close at hand. Then it had occurred to her that she would be forced
to uproot their lives and move to Terum. She loved her country and
couldn’t abide the cold of Vallius, or the ashy, dry heat of Terum.
Long sleepless nights she tossed and turned, trying to balance the
happiness of her son and the stability of her country.

After a long deliberation she approached her
mother weeks before Tristan’s visit and asked her to find a husband
and father for her son, someone worthy of assuming the ruling of
their country. Tristan’s arrival had been a bittersweet pain; she
found that she loved him despite the magic being gone. She felt
safe when he embraced her and enjoyed watching him play with her
son.

Mina even began to imagine their life
together but she couldn’t clearly picture where they might live
together. He seemed ill at ease in her family’s home and she knew
she would feel like an outcast wherever he called home. She
protected herself as well as possible, guarding her emotions from
him. When he arrived, her problem became more complicated, as
matters of the heart often do. He had a woman now, and even though
she tried to hate the girl, her smile and kindness melted Mina’s
heart.

She was happy that Tristan had found someone
to ease his troubled mind, for after all she’d heard since he’d
left her, trouble always seems to find him. Mina began to reason
that fate must have a different purpose in mind for her and the
safety of her son was better served in their peaceful palace than
exposed to the treachery that seems to go hunting about for his
father.

Still, having his grandfather and sister here
made her content. They doted on her son, playing with him, seeing
to his education and even though they tried to hide it, she knew
they trained his mind as well. Often she would see her son tilt his
head to the side, as he often did when wrestling with a puzzle, and
look directly at Eurydice or Drake.

A month had passed since Tristan, Maggie and
the strange soldier had left when Euri approached Mina as she sat
on the edge of one of the many ponds. The Rajina’s daughter played
absentmindedly with one of the fragrant flowers, mulling over the
past. Euri approached and cleared her throat quietly. Mina looked
up and smiled, motioning to the lip of the pond beside her.

Mina marveled at Euri’s baring. The girl was
only fifteen years of age, and yet carried herself as a Queen
would. She sat down quietly, composing her thoughts as she often
did, and then slowly looked over at Mina with deep sympathy.

“How are you sister?” She asked.

The Rajina’s daughter loved when Euri did
that, she had the strange feeling that the Princess knew that. It
made her feel less alone in the world, which she had since her
father and Fudi had died. She felt terribly alone.

“I am fine.” Mina lied.

Eurydice gave her a searching look. Mina was
sure she knew she lied, and only searched her face for how best to
proceed. “I understand a suitor is due here next week.” Euri said
lightly.

Mina smiled; she knew that Euri felt the same
way about suitors as she did. Men who acted as they should for
appearances alone. One could not truly judge him unless he was
forced to reveal his true self. She thought bitterly of her father.
An otherwise kind and generous man, he was led astray by greed and
ambition. His true measure and his legacy had become a shameful act
of treason.

“That is true, and another the week after,
and most likely another after that until mother chooses a worthy
match.” Mina replied.

“I’ll have a word with her.” Euri said
kindly. “Tristan and I have a cousin in Sutten who as honorable as
my brother,” She lowered her voice for dramatic effect. “Though
he’s less adventurous.” Euri winked.

Mina laughed; she always enjoyed her sisters’
candor. Eurydice also seemed to know Mina’s heart quite well. She
longed for a man who would make her a happy home where they could
grow old together and she wouldn’t be constantly worried about his
welfare. After all the stresses of the last few years, she longed
for the comfort of routine.

“Your heart will mend. It only needs time.”
Eurydice said patiently patting Mina’s hand.

Jonathans laugh cut through the air as he
floated inches above the grass, his great-grandfather floated
upside down next to him, making funny faces and hiding his eyes
from sight. Her son amazed Mina, she had no magic to her, despite
being the granddaughter of a dragon, and yet her son effortlessly
controlled magic around him as though it was part of his being.

Mina sighed, she knew Euri was right of
course, but it was a hard thing to do none the less and she wasn’t
looking forward to the fawning of suitors that would begin arriving
in a week’s time. She silently hoped she could convince Euri and
Drake to stay; she needed their strength and often sought their
council.

~

No, no my dear.
Socolis laughed.

Ever since Draconis had found the young
dragon they had been trying to jam all the knowledge into her as
possible. Now they were paying the price as she refused to even
attempt to control the flow of the water in the wooden cup. Lesariu
was laughing nearby as Bethia launched the water and the cup at
Socolis with her mind in irritation. She harrumphed theatrically,
sending a few multi-colored sparks from her nostrils.

The hatchling had taken to her training with
great enthusiasm, but as her youthful exuberance began to fade and
her responsibilities began to come forth she became less willing to
focus. Socolis and Lesariu could hardly blame her; they both
remembered their youth with fondness. They had undergone similar
training, compressed into months instead of the stately passing of
years out of necessity. Their training had been tempered by war
though, and there were other dragons to assume their places if they
failed.

Bethia had no such fallback; she knew the
welfare of an entire country and possibly the continent depended on
her mastering her abilities much sooner than anyone would like. She
chaffed to be at war with Tristan, though she couldn’t explain why.
Socolis and Lesariu had yet to reach that part of the training and
only explained that all would be revealed in time.

Today had been especially difficult and
Socolis and Lesariu knew why, they refused to share the knowledge
with Bethia though. The hatchling felt irritation and anger alien
to her thoughts. She also experienced sharp pains, though she
couldn’t name their source. They had to restrain her for long hours
while she struggled with someone else’s pain.

Finally they had calmed her down enough to
get back to the task at hand; making a column of water shoot out of
the cup. Bethia couldn’t understand the necessity of the task; she
also had developed something of a block about it. Lesariu chuckled
as she called the cup to her hand, leaned over the Great River and
filled it again.

They’d been training in the dense forests to
the south of Kenting for many weeks now and Bethia had mastered all
they could teach her to date with minimal fuss. Controlling
elements was always the hardest lessons and forced the mind to
adopt thoughts and properties alien to its natural tendencies.

Red dragons excelled at controlling the fire
element for example. Bronze dragons could influence the heart,
greens controlled nature, blues naturally controlled water, whites
controlled air, and blacks had an affinity for night. Silver
dragons were equally powerful, though they had no pre-destined
control, they learnt as they grew, mastering none, but becoming
proficient with all in time.

Controlling fire came quite easily to Bethia
of course. Making trees grow was slightly more challenging, but
water was the antithesis of fire and it strove to irritate the red
hatchling. She struggled and screwed up her eyes in concentration
as she tried to make the water leap out of the glass. Finally, with
great irritation she simply stomped her foot near the cup; making
the water leap out. She then stuck out her forked tongue at her
teachers, much to their amusement.

Concentrate hatchling.
Socolis
instructed, retrieving the cup and filling it again.

At least the trees are getting well
fed.
Lesariu joked.

The pair of them laughed as Socolis placed
the wooden cup back on the rotten log. He motioned for her to try
again and stepped back. Bethia screwed up her face in concentration
again and pushed out with her mind. She could feel the wood around
the cup as though it was in her hands, the fine imperfections, and
the gloss of the finely polished surface. She reached inside the
cup with her mind, feeling the weight of the water.

She focused; letting her mind caress the
water, feel its contours and liquidity. Bethia lifted the water
barely an inch out of the cup, keeping its form as it was. She
pulled at it, like taffy was pulled, stretching it with her mind.
She could feel Socolis and Lesariu’s approval, it gave her
confidence as she began to twist it and control its shape.

It elongated into a three-foot long disc, she
let it float around playfully. Her eyes shot open as it flew
forward, out of her control and sliced a thick tree trunk in two.
Bethia fell backwards, sending birds to flight as their homes shook
violently.

Bethia! What’s wrong?
Socolis asked in
shock.

It’s Tristan!
She shouted to them
both.
He’s mortally wounded!
She leaped back to her feet and
launched herself into the air with startling speed. Socolis and
Lesariu had to struggle to keep up with her.

~

One minute the battle weary orcs limped
towards the gates as Colonel Yeris’ men ushered them through, back
north to the wild lands where they belonged. The next minute the
Colonel could see an enormous dust cloud as thousands of men and
creatures rushed towards the Great Gate. He called his men up onto
the battlements as the ragged and battle worn mercenaries from the
north ran at breakneck speed for the safety of their northern
encampments.

“Too bad for them we burned down every camp
within a hundred yards of the wall.” One of his soldiers chuckled
at his side.

He smiled, silently agreeing with the
corporal. They would need all summer to rebuild their camps and
towns, and then the harsh winter would strike. Terum forces had won
a tremendous victory, though word had reached him two days ago that
Prince Tristan was on deaths door. The victory came at a high
price, and Yeris hoped it was enough. The young Prince had promise
and had been well on his way to being one of the finest military
minds of the age. Even better than his father, whom Yeris had first
served under thirty years ago now.