Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (18 page)

During his fevered dreams she felt pain and
sadness, his wedding brought joy and hope. For the past month
though she’d been besieged with murderous feelings tempered with
desperation. Bethia struggled to separate herself from the
emotions, knowing that they were not her own and striving to
control the black impulses that her friend shared unwittingly.

Hello young one.
She felt the presence
of Socolis in her mind.

Hello elder white.
Bethia replied with
a mental laugh.

Would you meet us in your lair?
He
asked.

Of course father.
She answered.

Banking to the right she floated along the
warm air currents towards her new home. She had selected one of the
larger mountains west of Kumia. The entrance faced the ocean far
below and gave her an amazing view of the weather patterns at sea.
It must have been one of the early dragon holds; it was quite large
and boasted a library much like Draconis’. She had yet to learn how
to read though. Socolis, Lesariu and Draconis had promised to
remedy that situation soon.

Slowly she descended from her flight as rain
began to pour down in earnest. While it didn’t bother her, she
didn’t enjoy the energy it leached from her body. She smiled as she
pinned her wings back for the last hundred feet, aiming precisely
for the entrance hole.

The water had made the stone passageway
slick, and she laughed aloud as she slid down the entrance into the
cave below. She flipped over allowing the air currents to pull her
wings out and act as a parachute as she floated down to the cavern
floor. Socolis and Lesariu were standing a short way off, laughing
at her youthful exuberance.

Hello my friends.
She sent in a light
welcoming tone.

The pair of them chuckled mildly as they
transformed themselves into their human forms. Bethia sighed
theatrically as she screwed up her eyes in concentration. The
transformation still came with difficulty, though it was becoming
easier and she found she didn’t have to concentrate on her human
form very hard to have success.

She’d begun adding small decorative items,
red beads that mimicked Maggie’s wedding gown. Her hair was a vivid
red color though she often chose to wear it in much the same
fashion as Eurydice; the hair from the top and sides of her head
were pulled back and laced with a red ribbon leaving the hair from
the back of her head to flow freely down her back. She chose to
imitate Annadora’s length of hair and height as she felt it gave
her the almost regal bearing she admired in the Queen. Her gown was
cut similar to Draconis’ robe; it was tighter at the top with a
chevron shape cut out in a differing shade of red, much like
Maggie’s wedding gown. The lower half of her robe extended and wove
around her, hanging loosely like Mina’s gowns did.

“Hello young one.” Lesa said, stepping
forward and embracing Beth.

Otis chuckled as Beth released her aunt and
embraced her father tightly. While most dragons rarely showed such
emotion, this new generation of younglings seemed to empathize more
as their human friends did. Beth knew that it amused the pair of
elders, watching the younglings imitate the humans they looked up
to. It was a natural side effect to the roles the younglings were
learning.

Already eggs had begun to hatch in Draconis’
lair and the elders had begun instruction in the rudimentary
skills, such as hunting and flying. Out of the twenty hatchlings
there were another two reds, four blue, three green, one silver,
two bronze, three black and five whites. Typically with predators
and the remnants of
The Bane
lurking about you could expect
half of them to survive. However, since the entire draconic race
depended on their survival the elders had woven power spells around
the lair, protecting it with their enchantments and always one of
them stayed with the hatchlings to protect them.

“How go the repairs?” Otis asked with a warm
smile.

“Well enough, I’ve tried not to tamper too
much with the magma flows. The farms are showing excellent crops so
it’s just to keep the volcanoes from erupting.” Beth explained.

“Excellent. We’re very impressed. The land is
beginning to resemble its former self.” Lesa complimented.

“But that’s not the reason you’re both here.”
Beth replied quietly. “This all could have been communicated in the
usual fashion.” She accused.

Otis cleared his throat theatrically looking
at Lesa. “The apple doesn’t fall far from…”

“The tree, yes, so it would seem.” Lesa
replied dryly to Otis’ amusement.

Lesa motioned for Beth to sit opposite them
on the plush, yet dust covered chairs. “We need to talk with you
about Tristan.” Lesa said bluntly.

“What about him?” Beth asked.

“His feet are set on a path that we cannot
follow.” Otis ordered.

“Cannot, or will not?” She asked with
narrowed eyes.

“Both, youngling.” Lesa replied quickly.
“There are precious few of us and we have our domains to consider.
Terum has lived on the verge of chaos for over twenty years, while
that may seem a short amount of time to our race, it has cost many
human lives and we long since sworn to protect them, even from
themselves.”

Beth sighed. “This I know all too well, but
he is my friend. I feel his pain and anguish. I would risk much to
help him.” Fire burned in her eyes as she continued. “As he helped
us.” She accused.

Lesa held her hands up as Otis leaned forward
in his chair. “Human lives are short and fragile, we must preserve
our strength.” He sighed, leaning back in the plush chair. “I once
thought as you did, Draconis often had conversations like these
with me.”

“It sounds harsh young one.” Lesa continued.
“Human lives will come and go; you will live on and must establish
control and dominance over your domain. To sacrifice yourself
before another is ready to take your place would hopelessly
complicate matters for our race.”

Beth’s shoulders sagged slightly as she
exhaled. She could see how the elders had come to this conclusion,
but as her more base feelings melded with Tristan’s a curious side
effect had begun to materialize. Not only did she feel the need to
oversee the health of her domain, she felt the need to oversee the
health of the ruler of her country. Beth could feel Tristan’s
strength, his drive and most of all she felt he was, and all humans
for that matter were, far more important to the dragons than the
elders had taught her.

Part of her training had been dragon lore and
she knew their reason for wanting to be apart from the mortal
races. Their reasons were not hers though; she knew that the
strength of their race and its future was forever tied to this
world now. Wars raged still in the Expanse, Henjis was dead and
unable to put an end to them, and those wars would spread back into
her country and then in Draconis’ and Socolis’ domain. Eventually
the war would reach Lesarius’ country and the whole world, dragons
and the mortals alike would be at an end.

“Father, Sister.” Beth began. “Dragons are no
longer the authors of our world’s future. Someday perhaps our
numbers will return, but then the slayers will resurface and thin
those numbers out regardless of our wishes.”

She took a steadying breath as Lesa and Otis
leaned forward in their chairs. “Men build our future with their
fragile hands, and I would risk much to protect the best that their
race has to offer. The boon is that their best is of our blood, and
has already risked much for our kind. He could have run, he could
have submitted to the spell that damaged his mind, he could have
given up and allowed
The Bane
and their masters to destroy
him utterly.

Instead he did what no man or dragon could
accomplish; he returned our magic to us and saved himself in the
process. Now an army gathers in the north; you know as well as I do
that they will march on the humans and destroy them.”

“Do you honestly think that they will stop
with the humans?” She asked rhetorically.

“They will turn their might on our kind, the
elves and dwarves will not be able to remain hidden either. Alone
none of our races can survive, the sorcerers fear dragons and the
orcs hate us all. They will not stop until they have wiped the
world clean, and then they will build it in their own fashion.” She
concluded.

“If I must sacrifice myself to keep that dark
future from coming true, then that is what the fates have in store
for me. I understand the fear that stays your hands, but you cannot
expect the younger dragons to share your fear. I have already
spoken with the hatchlings; they agree that we must fight.” She
informed them.

Otis and Lesa stared in open wonder at their
youngling. Already she mastered arts normally taking decades to
breach. Before either of them could speak, Beth continued her line
of thought.

“We can’t defeat them alone, such are their
numbers. We need to call the elves and dwarves to war, and more, we
need the elders help, through training and leadership. Without you
we surely go to our doom.” Finally she leaned back in her chair and
looked down at the floor. Beth was ashamed to have spoken so
harshly to her teachers, but she felt it was a necessary evil, even
if she didn’t like it.

She’s right.
Beth felt a strange voice
in her mind. It was raspy and sounded old and in pain.

You heard?
Lesa sent.

We heard.
Beth felt the familiarity of
Draconis’ mind brush against all of theirs.

What do you both think?
Otis
asked.

The dragons must take a hand. There is
more at stake than just who will rule our lands, much more.
The
raspy old voice echoed in her mind.

Henjis?
Beth sent in uncertain
shock.

Aye young one, I am sorry we haven’t met
yet. I am most impressed at your logic though.
He
complimented.

Tristan sat, looking out of the window of his
palace. Repair crews could be heard out in the courtyard and
farther below in the town proper. He had rarely left their room,
only briefly holding court for the most pressing concerns and
delegating the day-to-day tribulations to his more than able
administrators. He tilted back his glass, swirling the dark amber
liquid inside it.

The past couple of years had been infinitely
less painful than the
Nightmare Spell
had been, but at least
the pain in the spell had been much the same variety with a
steadily increasing cruelty. Life could be so much crueler than his
dreams had been. He sighed as he drank down the last of the
whiskey, wincing slightly as it burned down his throat.

A knock came at the door, tearing Tristan
from his self-destructive habit. He scowled deeply, looking over
his shoulder. “Enter.” He grumbled.

Eurydice entered slowly, stopping as she
closed the door behind her. She looked around the room slowly.
Tristan had used his increased strength to move the bed so that the
rising sun could bathe his dying wife in its warmth. He rarely left
his chair, and even rarer still did he shave. The Prince only
bathed when his own stench began to bother him. Various bottles
littered the floors and a pile of glass was the only proof of his
violent outbursts as he launched empty bottle after empty bottle
into the unused corner of their room.

Her eyes softened, showing sadness and
empathy for her brother. It irritated Tristan. He didn’t want
sympathy, he wanted a target, a mission, and a quest or someway
that he could bring Maggie back. Instead he had to live with the
enchantments put in place by his grandfather, gathering all the
poison he could into a sphere in his wife’s stomach. When Tristan
was really drunk he fantasized that he could see the bulge of the
sphere in his wife’s flat stomach. He would stare at it endlessly
for hours, reaching out and touching it as delicately as
possible.

“How are you big brother?” She asked
quietly.

He chuckled darkly, casting her a baleful
look. “I’m fine.” He croaked. Even in this state he couldn’t bring
himself to yell at her.

Abandoning her timid act she crossed the
room, took his empty glass from him and placed in on the floor, and
then she leaped into the air theatrically and landed painfully on
his lap. Euri threw her arms around his neck and hugged him
tightly. Not being able to help himself, Tristan burst out
laughing. Her youthful exuberance often had this effect on him and
she used it to good effect when she had need.

“No you’re not.” She admitted, holding him
tightly. “Now hug me back or I’ll start singing one of mother’s
dreadful lullabies.”

For long minutes he resisted, his pain
conspiring to cause his anger to rise up and unleash itself. Then
she began humming a little tune that embarrassed him every time his
mother sang it out loud. He wrapped his arms around her and gave
her a brief hug in return. Euri began humming the tune louder,
obviously not satisfied.

Tristan tried to pull his head away from her
iron grasp to give her a dark look, but she only hummed louder
while tossing in a few words. Finally, chuckling despite his dark
mood, he hugged her back. Immediately the humming ceased, but he
felt the pressure of her thoughts on his.

We will find the cure.
She
soothed.

Weeks of pain and suffering rose up inside
him and Euri loosened her grip and allowed him to lean into her
shoulder as he began to sob.

Your life will never be easy my brother.
But we are here, we love you. Don’t lock yourself away in your
pain.
Euri sent with a reassuring voice.

For long minutes she soothed his mind,
applying her healing arts to his pain. Eventually she touched a
part of his mind that had been altered by the Gods gift and pulled
away from him briefly. Tristan looked up to see shock clearly
evident on her face.