Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (26 page)

I’m not sure that she’s up to this.
Euri sent.

Probably not, but you four often surprise
us.
Lesa replied with a smile.

But she was never taught how to fight
before. Tristan, William and I were. I don’t know how she’s going
to deal with it.
Eurydice insisted.

Are any of us ready for what we’re about
to do?
The elder dragon asked darkly.

~

“How can this be possible?” Tristan asked in
open shock.

The Prince was still trying to overcome the
shock of seeing an orc, not only unarmed and civilized, but quite
intelligent. While Tulio grunted at times and had general orc-like
mannerisms, it was obvious to all that he had as much in common
with the orcs as humans did to monkeys. He looked like a refined
version of the larger orc Tristan had bested a short while ago.

“Not all of the orcs rose against their
parents.” He explained, calmly, as he motioned to a seat at their
table.

Tristan nodded and the orc bowed his head in
thanks. He parted his robe and sat down with surprising agility.
The orcs the Prince had experience with tended to be snarling
nearly mindless beings hell bent on warfare and bloodshed. Even the
larger orc he had defeated was far more primal and violent than the
prim and proper orc before him. Still his senses could barely
comprehend the Queen’s son.

His clothes were of the finest weave, though
now that he had more time to observe him, they didn’t appear to be
elvish fashion. His robe was a light silken material; however it
had large patches of artfully created mosaics. All things
considered, his clothing looked more like Tristan’s than the elves,
even though it was created using the fine silk the elves seemed to
favor. His robe was a dark blue color, with swatches of yellow, red
and orange to break up the monotony of one color. The orc wore
trousers of the same material, though they were bright green in
color. He wore slippers of black and had a simple black sash around
his waist. While he was far more regal than the orcs Tristan had
seen before, he still possessed the rippled muscle of his kind.

“I don’t understand.” The Prince admitted,
forcing himself to sit back in his chair.

One of the librarians came and gathered up
the materials in front of them and another brought over some tea
for them to sip at. Beth appeared uncomfortable, though she hid the
fact as well as possible. Tristan could feel how deeply concerned
she was, and knew her reasons as well as his own. Now that they
found the elves, the Prince felt much of his fear and anger fade
away as hopefulness took over. Even now, learning about this orc
was a pleasant break from his intense search.

“I assume you know how orcs came to be?”
Tulio asked politely. Tristan simply nodded in reply as Tulio
smiled and continued.

“There are precious few of us remaining.” He
began.

Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as
his observation. Tulio smiled and spread his hands in
acknowledgement of the obvious humor of his statement.

“Let me rephrase that, there are precious few
of the sane orcs remaining.” He said. “What you have to understand
is that while orcs might not be as fair as the elves, or as strong
as the dragons, we were born much as you where Prince Tristan.”
Tulio observed.

Tristan stiffened slightly, his cheeks
flushed as he readjusted himself self-consciously. While he knew he
was as much a half-breed as an orc was, he loathed the insinuation
that they were anything alike.

“You and I have much more in common than you
might think.” Tulio commented. “There are those who appear to be
elves, but are in fact the same as you and I. Half-breeds. Human
nature being somewhat more accepting than the elves, dragons or
even the dwarves for that matter, you are much more tolerated than
I would be.” He said.

“That’s only because I appear to be human.”
Tristan interjected.

“True. But then the elf-dragon half-breeds
appear to be elves, even though their nature is far more violent
than the elves would like.” Tulio pointed out. “That’s not to say
that all of my species is able to live in peace. As you have seen,
there are those who are so primal and warlike that all they know
and crave is bloodshed. So they are also elves that are warlike,
they abhor the peace that my mother’s people strive for.”

“We need to start with the beginning though.”
He admitted. “A mighty dragon did mate with an elf. They produced
an orc, though the mixture doesn’t always produce an orc as I have
explained. Orcs are born in much the same way as humans; our
mothers carry us for nine months in the same way. Sometimes more
than one child is born, and it’s even possible for the children to
have different appearances. With humans this doesn’t appear to be
the case, it seems that human genes are more dominant than dragon,
so their children tend to all appear human. We have no knowledge of
dwarf-dragon children as none have been born to the best of our
knowledge.” Tulio admitted.

“Most of the orc children born here are
raised to be like their elvish parents, though some are born too
warlike to be raised properly. If by their fifteenth birthday they
show naught but violence, they are carried to the cliffs looking
over the ocean and tossed over by the elders.” Tulio stated calmly.
Beth’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at the Queen and
her son in shock and disbelief.

“I know it seems harsh and cruel, especially
for the elves. But my mothers’ people would risk much to keep this
world from becoming like the one they fled.” He said somberly.

“I understand.” Tristan said. Beth merely
nodded, though she still looked deeply troubled.

“On Fangoria the mighty dragon and elf fled
into the swamplands. The dragon used his arts to create a large
glade within the swamps where the orcs could be raised and
loved.”

“For generations my orc ancestors were born,
raised, and taught elven and dragon lore. They built cities for
themselves out of the earth and trees, hunted and grew much as any
race would. Overtime they expanded beyond the swamps. Into the
mountains they went and began to mine metals they would use to
build their homes and create weapons to defend themselves.”

Tulio took a deep breath before he continued.
“The orcs expanded quickly, not being long lived like the dwarves
and elves, they had many children. Eventually the old teachings
began to be taught to less and less of the children. Some of the
farther out villages began to interbreed for reasons that still
remain unknown. Then one of the mines found its way into dwarven
holdings. There was a war between the orcs and dwarves over the
rights to the mountain.” Tulio admitted, taking a sip of tea.

“No one is quite sure who started the war or
who won, but eventually the dwarves destroyed an orc city,
slaughtered the women and young and set fire to everything that
stood.” He recounted sadly.

“One orc distinguished himself in battle, but
he didn’t believe in the old ways. He galvanized the outer villages
and none too few of the young into a war party. Like a wave they
crashed into the dwarves and destroyed everything of theirs. For a
time the orcs lived in peace. Then the eastern dwarves came to
avenge their western cousins. They brought the elves with them,
only the dragons seemed intent to stay out of the fight.” He
continued.

“The Orc Legate, as the leader called
himself, roused the orc people into a frenzy and they swarmed into
the capital. It was our species darkest hour, the Legate led a
raiding party into the dragon hold and they tore their father limb
from limb. Next they turned their anger on their mother and
slaughtered her as well. The remaining orcs were given a choice,
follow the Legate, or die.”

“A few of my people fled to the elves, hoping
that our training and education would avail us of their care. We
were turned away. Instead of leaving we built shelters at the base
of their trees so we might show them our differences were
superficial. This became a tradition over time, peaceful orcs
living at the base of elvish tree cities. In the meantime, the war
raged on. For thousands of years every species lost many of their
kin. Even the dragons suffered greatly in the battles that raged
on.” He took another slow sip of tea, composing his thoughts.

“After a time a peace conference was to be
held. Already fighting between the orc factions was reaching a
fevered pitch, though the other races didn’t know. The faction led
by The Orc Legate orchestrated the assassination of a mighty black
dragon at the peace talks. The dwarves blamed the elves love for
their twisted children, the elves blamed the dwarves warmongering
and the dragons blamed us all.” Tulio took another steadying breath
as Giani looked over at him in sympathy.

“War erupted again, though there were a
select group of elves, dwarves and dragons who sought to escape the
madness. The elves and dragons combined their magic and produced
the gateway through which we fled. My ancestors also wanted to flee
the fighting.”

“The Orc Legate found them out and sent his
whole army to stop them. The dwarves attacked us as we fled through
the gateway, so once on this world we fled and hid in the forests.
For fifty years my ancestors interbred and became that which they
fled, and eventually the orcs who fled to this world resembled a
twisted and grotesque version of their former selves.” He
concluded.

“How did you come to be here then?” Beth
asked. Tristan had never heard her speak aloud before, and despite
his shock at the story Tulio told, his shock re-doubled with her
vocal inquiry.

“I was born here, as many orcs have been. The
draconic blood runs in some of the elves veins and orc children are
born from time to time. There are few of us, but enough that we
have our own village at the base of these trees.” He explained.

The Prince could hardly credit his senses.
Here stood a pristine version of the morbid foe he’d faced.
Although he struggled with the thought, this orc was anything but a
mindless animal. Tristan spoke at length of the orcs his army had
defeated as well as the orc commander he had slain. When he was
finished Tulio looked at the Elf Queen, who nodded to him.

“The orc commander you faced was, for lack of
a better term; created.” He said.

“Created?” Tristan asked in shock. “How?”

“The elves have observed some magicians
working with the orcs; they bred orc genes with the lizards and
reptiles in the north. They manipulate the eggs, mutilate the young
and generally conduct black arts to bring them to maturity as
quickly as possible.” Tulio explained.

“Those orcs are hatched, as their reptile
cousins are, in crèches deep in the swamplands. They are taught
warfare and murder from hatchling to adulthood. The elves and
dragons fear that they will make this world as warlike and chaotic
as Fangoria was.” Tulio stated.

“Wait. Which dragons?” Beth asked in
surprise.

“The one you call Draconis.” The orc
replied.

Tristan?

Yes grandfather?
The Prince answered
slowly.

Once the shock had worn off that there were
two breeds of orc, he and Beth had returned to searching for the
cure to Maggie’s poisoning. Tulio offered his aid, and it turned
out that he also could read draconic. They poured through works of
all kinds in every language imaginable and a few that looked like
little more than sword slashes on paper. Tulio had informed him
that they were written in old orcish. Tristan was glad for his help
and found that he did indeed have much in common with the orc; a
conclusion that had been quite unsettling.

The night before he and Beth had been invited
to a feast and been introduced to several other orcs who were quite
similar to Tulio. Some appeared to be older, while others were
unmistakably young. Some wore paint on their faces, a marking of
their clan Tristan had been told. Others wore different cuts of
clothing or ceremonial weapons and armor. None of them had the
aggressiveness Tristan had experienced in war; in fact some of them
were quite cowardly and sheepish. Almost as disquieting as Beth
speaking out loud, Tristan chuckled to himself.

You need this flower.
Draconis sent, a
clear image of a purple flower appeared in his mind.

Where can I find it?
Tristan asked,
snapping his book shut and making both Beth and Tulio jump in
surprise.

“What is it?” Beth asked quickly.

“I’m not sure. Just a moment.” He
replied.

Draconis told Tristan of the youngling
showing him the flower and where it was located.
I’d advise
finding it somewhere else though my boy.
He warned

Why?
Tristan asked.

Because if that’s the only place it can be
found, you can be sure it’s a trap.
Draconis explained
sarcastically.

You think?
Tristan answered curtly.
Thank you.
He sent calmly.

“Do you have any elven artists?” Tristan
asked a librarian close by. The elf nodded and bowed his way out of
the library, presumably to fetch one.

“What’s going on?” Beth asked, poorly hiding
her irritation.

While they waited for the artist Tristan
explained the flower and where the discovery came from. Beth closed
her own book in surprise as she closed her eyes. The Prince assumed
she was trying to communicate with Draconis.

“How is it Draconis can talk to you at this
distance?” Tulio asked.

“I’m not sure, we’ve been able to for some
time. Is it a skill orcs don’t possess?” Tristan asked.

“We do, but it’s typically between parent and
child only.” He replied.

“Well he is my grandfather.” The Prince
admitted.