Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (22 page)

Even now, plans and plots ran through his
mind. Poisoned grain shipments, barges loaded to capacity with
orcs, building war galleys and attacking Vallius and its allies
directly. All of those plans lacked originality though, he mused
darkly. Binos wanted a stunning victory to cement his importance
and be the next congressional lord.

Timing was key, it was already two months
after the failure in Terum and if he was going to take the great
wall on midsummer he would need to assemble the troops and have
them marching by the end of the week. Runners would need to be sent
out to the caches to bring the hatchlings along where he and his
magicians could accelerate their growth sufficiently.

“Binos.” A voice called from the
fireplace.

The self-styled King of The Expanse was
shaken from his thoughts as he looked into the embers of the
roaring fire. He adjusted his vision slightly, bringing it into
focus with the face in the fire.

“My Lord.” He said, bowing his head
slightly.

“What did I tell you about feigned
supplication Binos?” He asked with a smirk.

“Apologies my Lord.” Binos said with a
smile.

“Report.” Petrus ordered without further
preamble.

“We now control everything south of the Bear
Claw Mountains and north of the Great Wall.” Binos replied.

“Impressive.” Complimented the older
magician. “What news of the dragons and their champion?” He asked
with contempt.

“He lives while his wife lays, dying, beside
him.” Binos answered.

“He lives?” Petrus shot.

“It wasn’t unexpected; he has survived a
great many things. The loss of his new bride will keep him busy for
months, and if they should happen to discover the cure, then they
will need to invade Deus to find it.” He said calmly.

“You create complications my pupil.” Petrus
warned.

Binos chuckled, waving the comment away.

“Even if the cure is only found on our
shores, there is nothing to suggest that we had any part in the
poisoning of his bride. I have agents in Metao, Kenting and now
Kumia, all of them report that they all assume the orcs are in
league with the remnants of
The Bane
.”

Petrus made a dismissive grunt, which caused
Binos to smile slightly as his former masters’ nervousness. Before
too long he would have Terum under his heel, then he would be on
the
Congress
and shortly thereafter he would have all of
those old fools under his heel as well. The dragons would soon
fall, as would their half-breed hero. He alone would be the most
powerful magic user on the planet, able to command nations and
expand his rule to encompass the entire world.

~

Tristan’s eyes shot open and he looked deeply
into the red eyes of Beth. She was crouching in front of him with
her arms on his shoulders. There was a look of deep concern on her
face as she regarded him.

What’s wrong?!
She asked loudly.

“I’m fine, I…I was screaming wasn’t I?” He
asked sheepishly.

She nodded that he was correct and then
released his shoulders and sat down in front of him. She crossed
her legs and kept watching him closely.

“What time is it?” He asked, changing the
topic.

It should be just after noon, if I judge
things properly. It’s hard to tell underground.
She replied,
narrowing her eyes slightly.

He sighed as he picked up the book he’d been
skimming through when he fell asleep, absentmindedly picking up a
piece of cheese and popping it into his mouth. Beth spared another
minute watching his features with sympathy in her eyes. He knew she
could feel his impatience and pain even though she rarely showed
it. She reached over and retrieved the tome she had cast aside when
she had rushed to his aide and continued reading.

Hours passed and a lone dwarf would enter and
leave, refreshing their water and food supplies before casting them
a confused glance and taking his leave. Slowly they poured through
the last of the books and tomes, finding nothing after the first
revelation about the stem of an orchid. Tristan was tempted to find
an orchid just so he could feel as though he’d accomplished at
least something in the last couple of weeks.

I think I have something here.
Beth
sent him excitedly.

“What is it?” Tristan asked quickly.

The pulp of the Yew tree has only one
known cure; ground seeds from the flower of the Dactylorhiza
Sambucina, more commonly known as the “Cliff Orchid”.
She
replied, looking up at him confused.
What’s the Cliff
Orchid?
She asked quizzically.

“I have no idea.” He answered hopelessly.

“Perhaps ye shoul’ be askin’ an elf laddie.”
A voice called from the doorway.

Tristan looked over quickly to see Prince
Neran standing in the doorway, lighting his pipe. He drew in a deep
lungful of air and exhaled a puff of smoke. Satisfied that it was
lit sufficiently he grinned mischievously as he entered the room.
Tristan still wasn’t overly impressed with the dwarf Prince; he
enjoyed smoking too much and giving straight answers too
little.

“And where might I find an elf?” Tristan
asked, forcing his voice to calmness that he didn’t share.

“Not quite sure, laddie, been some time since
them elves be visitin our halls.” He replied idly between puffs
with a smile.

He’s lying.
Beth warned.

Neran’s smile faltered as he made eye contact
with her. “Ye stay outta me head,
dragon.
” He shot. “Me
people be havin’ enough of ye dragons over the centuries. Ye mind
yer manners and keep ta yer own thoughts.” Neran warned, pointing
the tip of his pipe at her.

Beth didn’t break eye contact as she nodded
once, with narrowed eyes. Tristan wasn’t sure how the dwarf had
known she was searching around in his mind, but he’d felt it often
enough to know that it would be irritating if a stranger were to go
delving around in his memories. The Prince cleared his throat
theatrically, drawing Neran’s gaze back to him.

“I’m sure she meant nothing by it Prince
Neran.” He soothed. “She’s used to people lying to her, and she’s
still young by her races standards.”

“Fair ‘nuff lad. No insult taken.” He
returned her nod. “Ye tall folk never much appreciated riddles
anyway.” Neran observed.

“That’s often the case when lives are at
stake master dwarf.” Tristan replied.

The dwarf Prince narrowed his eyes
dramatically and answered in a harsh whisper. “There are always
lives at stake, boy.”

Tristan chuckled dryly. “True.” He admitted.
“Now, where can I find an elf?”

Neran grinned again, setting Tristan’s nerves
to a ragged edge. “Oddly ‘nuff, ye can find one in me fathers’
throne room.”

With his pronouncement the dwarf Prince
turned and walked out of the room. Tristan jumped to his feet,
grabbed the tome and the scroll with the cures, jammed them into
his travel satchel, and hurried to catch up to the dwarf. The
Prince assumed this was another dwarven riddle or jest, but even so
he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the dwarfs’ words.

The chambers of the dwarven hold were
curiously silent; all work seemed to be at a standstill. All around
him, Tristan could see dwarves normally hard at work eyeing them
suspiciously. When the Prince mentioned this to Neran, the dwarf
shrugged and muttered something about elves being unwelcome
bringers of ill fortunes. Tristan suspected the work stoppage was
more to do with superstition than anything else. The revelation
made him fight to hide his smirk, although Beth, who shared his
thoughts, laughed audibly at his observation.

I’ve never met an elf, what should I
expect?
Tristan asked her.

No idea, I’ve never met one either.
She answered with a chuckle.

What?!
He shot back, clearly
shocked.

Up until a few days ago I’d no idea what a
dwarf looked like either.
Beth sent laughing.

I sense your fathers thirst for adventure
in you.
He answered darkly.

Perhaps, but I think that our learning
together will better lay the foundation for this new world we
desire.
She observed.

Fair enough.
He chuckled.

That’s better.
She said calmly.

What is?

Laughter, you need to do that more my
friend.

I haven’t had much to laugh about
lately.
He brooded.

True, but then both of our lives are going
to be long and filled with many dark times. Maybe it’s better we
both learn how to take what joy we can, while we can.
She
replied with a smirk.

There was no denying her logic, whether it
was now to poison or sixty years to old age, Tristan was going to
eventually lose Maggie. The full weight of that realization came
crashing down on him and Tristan found himself darkly pondering the
wisdom of his choice. As though sensing his turmoil, Beth quickened
her step and wrapped her arm around his.

In front of them the large double doors to
the throne room opened smoothly to admit them into the crowded
throng that gathered. Thousands of dwarves gathered, some sitting
on others shoulders to get a better view of the goings on around
the King. Their tilting acrobatic stances amused Tristan and Beth
who chuckled lightly at the display as Neran set about clearing a
pathway for them to the front of the room.

“Outta tha way there lads! Move yer feet
man!” He shouted, shoving his countrymen to the right and left as
he cleared a path wide enough for the pair of them to walk up to
the throne.

As they approached Tristan could see a tall
figure in a bright yellow cloak. The hood was up; obscuring the
figures features and it covered it from head to toe. The Prince was
unsure what he was about to see, but the figure alone stood well
over his own six feet in height. It towered above the dwarves
surrounding it, and it was at that point when Tristan looked over
to his right to see a group of another dozen or so taller forms
gathered in the gloom of the hall.

“Ah! Prince Tristan Vallious, I presen’ Queen
Giani o’ the Elven people.” The King boomed over the buzzing
discussions of his subjects.

The figure in yellow turned around and pulled
her hood away. Others might find her appearance attractive, but
Tristan found it to be quite offsetting. While he could see
similarities between himself and his dwarven hosts, whatever
similarities in physical appearance he shared with the Elf Queen
were superficial at best.

Her face was fair, though her impossibly high
cheekbones gave it an angular cast, as though someone had built her
face out of carved marble. Her upswept ears lacked the lobes the
human race had and the dwarves were overly blessed with. Her ears
ended in sharp points that only added to the angular cast of her
face. Her hair was the darkest black he’d ever seen and her eyes
were close to the color of the sky, though so pale they looked
almost white. The Queen’s lips were thin, and although she was
smiling, there was something altogether disquieting about the look
she was searching him with.

The Queen unpinned her cloak as one of her
kin raced forward with astonishing speed to catch it, folding it
carefully over his arm, he backed away almost reverently. His hood
obscured his appearance but from what Tristan saw of his arms and
hands, elves appeared to be uniform in size. The Prince turned his
attention back to the Queen to see that she wore a dress of the
strangest construction.

It looked lighter than Guisian silk, and yet
had a rigidity that reminded Tristan of his old leather armor. The
main part of her dress was a long flowing single piece of fabric
that ran from her shoulders to just below her knees. On top of this
main piece, were hundreds of small patterned patches of fabric so
white it made the main piece look gray by comparison. Thousands of
tiny beads were woven into the seams and tiny glyphs were scattered
all over the dress.

Her arms were bare and while they were trim
and muscular they appeared as soft as the fabric of her dress. The
Queen’s legs were equally muscular and lean. She wore simple
slippers of a golden hue, also embroidered with beads. She smiled
warmly at him and again the disquieting beauty she possessed struck
him.

“Prince Tristan, at last we meet.” She said
affecting a shallow bow.

Tristan returned the bow, “Queen Giani.” He
said respectfully.

She’s quite beautiful.
Beth
observed.

I agree, though in a somewhat strange
fashion.
He replied.

I thank you for the compliment.
The
pair of them felt Giani’s musical voice fill their minds.

Tristan narrowed his eyes slightly, not out
of anger, more out of confusion, the only mortals who could
communicate with him in this way possessed dragon genes.
You can
hear us?
He asked uncertainly.

Of course.
She replied, spreading her
arms in a welcoming fashion.
It was we who first taught the
dragons to communicate in this fashion.
The Queen
explained.

Both he and Beth were rocked by the
revelation. Tristan had always assumed the dragons were the elder
species, but if the elves had been the ones to teach them how to
communicate with mortals, perhaps they were the elder race.

No one alive is quite sure which race is
older.
The Queen explained sympathetically.
It matters not
though, the dragons taught us a great many things in return.
She said, bowing to Beth.

Where did you all come from then?
Tristan asked suddenly forgetting his quest in the thirst for
knowledge.

Lifetimes have been spent in study and
debate on that very issue.
The Queen answered with a smile.
It may be that we will never know.
She concluded as though
it was of no consequence.
We tarry from your true question
though, young Prince.
Giani observed.