Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (32 page)

Baring the door behind him he carefully
looked around the room to ensure that he was alone. The Captain
strode over to the open windows and slammed them shut, lest the
guards in the courtyard hear their mistress’s screams momentarily.
Drawing the storm windows shut he locked them together with a metal
latch, plunging the room into total darkness.

He walked over to the bed and yanked the
sheets back with no hint of kindness or gentility. The woman’s gown
stuck to her sweat drenched flesh, showing her disgusting human
body in perfect relief against the moist fabric. A weaker orc might
have succumb to his desires, and though she was pink and weak, he
had always heard the other orcs joking that the human females
provided good sport as they screamed and clawed at their orc
rapists.

Instead the Captain grumbled again and slowly
drew his dagger. It was as alien to him as the body he appeared to
possess. Straight and well oiled, it refracted the little sunlight
still able to pour into the room through the gaps in the storm
shutters. He kicked the chair next to her bed out of the way,
causing it to skid along the floor and shatter as it collided with
the wardrobe in the corner.

The weak pink girl stirred slightly, groaning
in her weak pathetic human way. Her eyes fluttered open and she
raised her hands to rub the sand out of them. The Captain
experienced a moment of hesitation, for the sand in the eyes as one
sleeps is something he too rubbed when first waking from his rest.
So different, and yet there were similarities. All doubt fled from
his mind as she looked up see a tall thin man with long hair and a
beard standing in the shadows, and called out to him.

“Tristan?” She asked uncertainly.

The orc Captain sneered and raised his human
looking arm. The weak pink woman let out a scream of terror as he
smiled sadistically. With all of his strength he plunged the
shining metal blade deep into her chest. Her scream was cut off as
she looked down at the blade in shock and fear. The woman mumbled
something weakly, reaching up with her right hand and grasping the
blade. Her eyes rolled up in her head as the blood ran between her
breasts and gathered at her neck, spilling over onto the bed on
either side of her head and shoulders.

The smell of human waste reached the Captains
sensitive nose and he yanked the blade free in disgust. He ripped
her gown and used the robe to clean the human woman’s red blood off
of the blade. While he would normally let the blood dry and stain
his blade, as was tradition among his brethren, he still had more
weak pathetic humans to kill before his mission was a success.

He made his way back to the door where he
opened it carefully and looked out into the hallway. A short woman
and her small son walked towards him and he smiled again as he
anticipated another kill. The little boy’s eyes widened and he
pointed at the orc captain yelling something to his mother. The
woman un-strapped some sort of whip from her hip and lashed out at
the orc in disguise. He saw his own orc body rematerialize as his
head soared through the air and landed at his feet, then the light
faded from his eyes and he knew darkness. If the Immortal Horde
called, he knew it not.

~

Can we go see father?
Jonathan asked
in his mothers mind.

“Now son, you know that’s rude.” She
chastised half-heartedly. The truth was Mina cherished the times
her son spoke to her with his mind. She could feel him and his
state of mind, while outwardly he was calm and confident she could
feel his underlying uncertainty. It made him seem more hers than
his fathers, and she jealously guarded those things she saw of
herself in their son.

“Sorry mother.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Can we go then?” Jonathan asked eagerly.

Mina laughed as the page, a servant dedicated
to running messages back and forth inside the palace, grinned in
spite of his duties. She nodded to her son who cheered and ran into
his room of their apartment to put on his nicest tunic and trousers
as he knew she would instruct him to do. Rising from the divan
she’d been reading to her son on, Mina made herself busy touching
up her makeup and letting her long hair out of its braids.

Jonathan came running back into the room
wearing his best tunic. It was made to resemble his father’s armor,
yet light enough to allow him to run around childishly waving about
his small wooden scimitar. The sight always threatened to bring her
to tears, but his youthful excitement made her smile instead. He
reached out and grabbed her hand as the page bowed them through the
doorway.

“Does madam require me to escort her?” He
asked politely.

Jonathan pulled at her hand, half-dragging
her down the hallway. “I think we’ll find our way!” She called over
her shoulder with a chuckle.

The Guisian Princess felt more at home in
these strange red brick halls than she had in many years in her own
family’s home in Delhi. She couldn’t place the feeling though.
Eurydice came to visit her fairly often, so much so that even since
their quest into the Expanse she felt closer to Euri than her own
mother. Her son was with her always. Perhaps it was the sense of
family, despite the odd circumstances of her son’s birth, she felt
as though she belonged with the Vallious family. She knew that her
mother blamed herself for her father’s death, regardless of his
scheming and ambition she’d loved him dearly.

Sadly, Mina felt that it tainted their time
together. A bittersweet pang of guilt always hung in the air and no
matter how Mina protested that she couldn’t imagine her life any
other way, Peria still felt guilt. Deep down inside Mina knew that
she always would harbor that guilt, like a dark lover, until her
last breath. The Rajina refused to take another husband, or lover,
punishing herself for not being the proper wife. It broke Mina’s
heart to see her mother slowly fade away in front of her very eyes.
This trip to visit the father of her son was just as much for her
as it was for Jonathan.

The Princess envied Maggie secretly. Was it
so much to ask for a husband to travel to the ends of the earth and
back for his wife? All of her suitors seemed to think so; they
scoffed as the rumors of Tristan’s adventures circulated the seven
kingdoms. Even the suitor from Malus, long known for their mighty
deeds in the name of love and honor, made sport of his
hopeless
quest
as it had come to be known. Mina had faith though; she
knew Tristan wouldn’t stop until he found the cure. With his dragon
friends at his side he would fight and give his life without
hesitation.

It was a trait she prayed her son would
share. If he was to become the King of Kings, and bring peace and
stability to the seven kingdoms, he would need a strong respect for
life. She looked forward to his tutelage under Tristan’s father, if
her son became half the man his father was he would bring the world
into a new era the likes of which she doubted anyone could possibly
hope for.

“Mother!” Jonathan shouted urgently.

Mina looked down at her son; his face was
drained of its usual dark shade as he pointed in front of them. She
looked up to find a guard exiting the royal apartments, not
something uncommon or frightening in the least. Mina looked back
down at her son.

“What’s wrong Jonathan?” She asked in
confusion.

“Orc!” He shouted, forcing the image he could
see into her mind.

While she could see a typical palace guard,
dressed in full plate mail with a sweeping red cape hanging off one
shoulder. Her son saw an orc, standing easily seven feet tall. His
snarling face was merely a sloppy grin on the human. She’d never
seen a superimposed image like this before, it was hard to credit
her senses. A moment’s hesitation was all it took, for she trusted
her son implicitly. Mina reached behind her back and unclasped her
Dragon’s Fist
, which she always carried with her now.

Bringing it around her hip she let it unravel
on the floor as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Her arm snapped
forward and the whip tied itself around the human guards’ neck. His
hands shot up reflexively as he grasped the cord around his throat.
She pulled back, wrapped the whip around the back of her arm and
jerked with all of her strength.

Immediately the image of the human guard
wavered, leaving a large orc head sailing in an arc and striking
the wall with a sickening squelch. The orcs rancid body lurched
forward and then fall backwards shaking the floor as it collided
with the stones beneath their feet. Fear gripped her very soul as
in her mind’s eye she could see the father of her son laying in a
pool of his own blood.

Dragging her son along, she dropped her whip
and ran into the apartment. The moment she entered she released her
hold on Jonathans hand as she covered her mouth with both of her
hands.

“Jonathan.” She called. Her son had moved
into the room, slowly approaching the bed where his father’s wife
lay dead at the hands of that monster.

“Jonathan!” She said harshly. The boy pulled
his hand back, as though he’d been burned and looked back at his
mother.

“Go get your father.” Mina ordered him,
sensing his hesitation she lowered her hands and narrowed her eyes.
“Now, Jonathan.” She reinforced. His three year old eyes looked at
her reproachfully, but he turned on his heel and ran off to do as
she asked.

“You’re overextending your forces.” Tristan
warned.

Kevin shot his younger brother a dark look as
Euri giggled. Lesa, Beth and Otis sat, smiling smugly next to Euri,
across the table from Tristan and his older brother.

“Don’t you three start either.” Kevin warned
the dragons.

After a much needed meal, talk around the
table had turned to the mundane and then eventually posturing
between the eldest and youngest Vallious. Euri challenged Kevin to
a game of chess and was soundly beating her older brother,
again.

“You don’t need to let her win, you know.”
Tristan offered light heartedly. The Prince had found that much of
his playful mood returned with the safety of his wife secured.

“I haven’t let her win since she was five.”
Kevin replied in exasperation as he knocked his King over,
resigning for the third time. “You play her then.” He said in
disgust. No sooner had Tristan and Eurydice made their opening
moves when a page came bursting into the room.

“My Lord!” He shouted. “A large army gathers
at the Great Wall!” He paused for dramatic effect before hissing;
“Orcs!”

Chairs toppled over as everyone rushed
towards various exists from the room. Tristan had left his armor in
one of the guest apartments where he bathed, so his wife could have
peace and quiet to recover. He went there now and ripped off his
court attire in short order. He pulled on a pair of leather
trousers before wrapping his grieves and shin guards around his
legs. Each piece glowed briefly, molding itself into solid pieces
of armor. Next he threw a simple cotton tunic on before slipping
his breastplate over his shoulder and allowing it to glow and
attach itself together. Finally he pulled on a pair of boots over
his socks and grabbed his cloak and weapons as he rushed out of the
apartment. He tossed his cloak over his shoulder with his shield as
he tied his sword belt around his waist.

By the time he reached the tower he’d donned
his cloak and climbed up onto Bethia’s waiting back. Before he even
had time to strap himself into the saddle she leaped into the air.
Below, Kevin had the Terum army mobilized and moving towards the
Great Wall.

“What took you so long?” Euri shouted over
the wind.

Tristan looked over to find his sister on the
back of a large white dragon, beside her, much to his surprise and
dismay, was the mother of his child. Mina rode her grandmother with
a practiced ease he found impressive. Neither of them possessed
saddles though and this concerned him greatly.

Oh don’t worry.
Lesariu scolded him in
his mind.
They’ll be fine. See?

Tristan looked over as the serpentine bronze
colored dragon barrel rolled. Mina’s eyes flew open in fear as she
clutched the plates in her mother’s neck tighter. A faint nimbus of
golden light flashed around the Guisian Princess, holding her fast
to the bronze dragons back, causing Tristan to laugh at the
sight.

It was then that the Prince noticed the armor
his sister and Mina wore. What appeared to be a simple homespun
robe bristled with a fine glittering that was unmistakably dragon
scale. Each of them wore a white tunic, cut low to cover their
upper legs. Beneath the tunic appeared to be simple leather grieves
and knee high boots. Euri had her staff strapped to her back, and
Mina wore a curious looking whip at her hip. She had a curiously
sad and sympathetic look on her face that confused Tristan.
Satisfied that they were as protected as they were going to be, he
redirected his attention on the wall as it grew closer to them by
the moment.

Bethia let forth a thundering roar.
Look!
She shouted in his mind.

Gliding above the wall in lazy circles
appeared to be another dragon, though it was on the wrong side of
the wall and set Tristan’s nerves to a frazzled edge. He could feel
the magic at play again as the hair on the back on his neck rose in
alarm. The large dragon belched out a nearly clear flame, which
caused Terum defenders on the wall to scatter. Those few who hadn’t
escaped the fiery display fell from the walls as their hair, skin
and armor melted. The pungent scent of burning flesh was thick
along the wall and those not fleet of foot fell to their deaths as
mystic fire killed them before the fall did.

Tristan’s worst suspicions were verified as
they came into range of the large mystic dragon. It was smaller
than its brother that had chased the pair of them over the
Careless Sea.
Though this one bore a rider as well and all
that the dragon failed to destroy, the magician was attempting to.
The Prince redirected Bethia’s flight with his thoughts, flying her
straight into the purple mystic dragon.