Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (37 page)

Even from his prone position, the Prince
could feel the rough patches of flesh as his wounds healed
themselves. The matron forced apart the pieces of his smoldering
breastplate and gasped as she pulled it away. She’d re-opened a few
wounds. They were severe enough as they had yet to heal completely.
He could feel her calloused hands as she used a wet cloth to wipe
away the worst of the blood so she could tend to his cuts and
burns.

He couldn’t move, but Tristan felt ever fiber
of his being screaming out in pain as his body struggled to heal
itself. The old matron clicked her tongue as she pulled apart his
greaves. Every time she pulled away another piece of armor a fresh
wave of pain washed over Tristan, threatening to push him back into
unconsciousness.

It felt like an excruciatingly slow process;
the exposure and bathing of his wounds. Each new discovery was met
with a sharp intake of breath from the matron followed by the
clicking of her tongue. As though she wished he was coherent so
that she could berate him for his carelessness.

By force of will he kept himself awake and
focused his attention on the wounds he could feel through the waves
of pain. The matron admonishing someone sharply followed the
familiar creak of a door opening.

The Prince couldn’t place the feeling, though
he felt power gathering around him. A pleasantly warm feeling
enveloped his body, though he wounds felt terribly cold. The cold
spots began to shrink until the final cold spot just above his left
hip disappeared. Slowly Tristan felt strength returning to his
limbs as he flexed his fingers experimentally.

A soft laugh brought him back to his senses.
Light invaded his vision as he opened his eyes, and he groaned.
Shadows materialized into the shapes of familiar people as
Tristan’s eyes began to accustom themselves to the light. Suddenly
his situation asserted itself and he shot up in bed, nearly passing
out from the effort.

“Easy!” The soft voice ordered.

“I need…to get back…” Tristan stammered.

“The hell you do.” She replied.

The Prince leaned back on the pillows and
looked towards the woman. Mina stood beside his bed, her hands on
their son’s shoulders. There was a golden nimbus of light
surrounding his little hands which began to fade as the pain fled
from Tristan’s body. He looked down at his body. Laying there in
only his underclothes, he began to understand what the last few
years of war and battles had done to him.

Years ago when he’d recovered from the
Nightmare Spell that had been cast on him, he saw a young smooth
unmarked body before him. Now when he looked down the deep scars
along his abdomen and chest, not to mention the many old wounds
that covered his legs and arms, revolted him. Not for the first
time, Tristan felt quite old laying prostate and in pain, being
held down by those he loved.

Jonathan looked exhausted, but Mina was the
one that looked worn down to the point of collapse. Tristan
motioned for a page to bring over a pair of chairs for them as he
sat up on his bed. His head swam from the effort, but the feeling
quickly passed as he tried to focus on his surroundings. In moments
their son was sound asleep with his chin resting on his chest in
his chair. Outside Tristan could hear the sounds of battle, though
his body was too exhausted to join in despite his wishes.

Then reality slapped him in the face like a
cold bath. This was his bedroom, the same one his wife had been
slain in. Days later he sat in their room, contemplating what life
he had yet to live. Assuming of course they survived the assault
outside, which was picking up in intensity as it began to sound as
though the fighting was just outside in the courtyard.

“Tristan.” Mina’s soft voice called to
him.

Shaken from his morbid thoughts, he turned
his head slowly to regard the mother of his only child. Just as the
first moment he’d seen her, he was stricken with her beauty. Her
strange moods had always unnerved him, though he found comfort in
the look she was gifting him with now.

“If we all survive this.” She began. Tristan
knew all too well to whom she was referring, herself and he, as
well as their son. He nodded, urging her on silently. “Well, what I
mean to ask is; what’s next…for us?”

The Prince fought for his voice, which was
something of a minor miracle considering the pain that was still
shooting through his body and the emotion that was threatening to
overwhelm him. “For you and I, you mean?” He asked.

Mina looked up at him, tears gathering in her
eyes, as she slowly nodded.

Tristan sighed, rubbing his sore eyes with
his thumb and finger. “I really don’t know.” He dropped his hand
and looked at the mother of his only child. “I care for you a great
deal and our son is destined to be King. I suppose our first
concern is to see that he survives this war. Then we must rebuild
and you and I need to see to his education and care.”

She smiled and chuckled, wiping away her
gather tears. “Men.” She sighed as she stood up. Slowly she walked
over to his bed and sat down next to him. She grasped his hand in
hers and looked into his eyes.

“Alright. I’ll be more blunt then. I want to
spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Oh!” Tristan exclaimed. “I didn’t realize I
needed to say that. I thought you knew.”

“Know what?” She asked in mild surprise.

He pushed himself upright and pulled her into
an embrace and kissed her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and all
the sounds of battle outside faded away.

“Oh.” She said in mock astonishment. Mina
reached behind Tristan’s head and pulled him into a passionate
kiss.

An explosion rocked the castle walls. Tristan
had to hold tight to keep Mina from falling out of the bed as dust
and tiny rock fragments fell from the ceiling. He looked towards
his window as a column of fire erupted along the walls.

“That was some kiss.” Mina said in shock.

Tristan laughed in spite of the situation as
he looked back towards her. “Stay here with Jonathan. Don’t come
out no matter what you hear. Don’t open the door for anyone save
myself.” He kissed her deeply. “Protect our son.” He commanded as
he reached for his sword belt and ran from the room, panic giving
him strength.

~

Kevin Vallious watched in shock as the final
barricades to the freight tunnel were blasted clear. Orcs swarmed
through the opening and soon his men were engaged in a vicious
battle. He reached up and unclipped his axe again.

“Push them back and plug that breach!” He
shouted before running forward to engage the first orc he could
see.

Being the Lord of a border town had
accustomed Kevin to facing all manner of strange creatures.
Bugbears, orcs, giants, trolls, and many others had fallen before
his armies, and at his own hand. These orcs were something else all
together. Even the smallest one was as large as Kevin, and they
swung with the power of a mules kick in the groin. Every parry sent
waves of shock up his arms and he could feel the muscles in his
shoulders knotting up from the effort.

Most of his soldiers challenged the orc
invaders in pairs, using their speed to good effect as they hacked
and slashed away at the attackers. The only boon was that even
after the earth shattering blast, the breach wasn’t large enough to
admit enough orcs to tip the balance.

High above them all the elder dragons
commanded the younglings in battle with what remained of the
magicians and their purple dragons. One such mystic dragon dove
towards the defenders lines, forcing Kevin to shout out for his men
to hold. The dragon wouldn’t land; it would be quickly swarmed and
destroyed. He wondered what the beasts master was planning.

All too soon the plan was revealed though as
the largest orcs Kevin had ever seen leapt from the back of the
dragon. With arms outstretched, the terrifying orc let loose a
battle cry as he fell towards the Terumite Army. Speed bordering on
the supernatural, Kevin grabbed a spear from the soldier next to
him and threw it with all his might.

The spear flew straight and true, though the
orc attempted to dodge its flight. It drove into his left shoulder
and sent the orc tumbling through the air. He crashed into a
ballistae crew, breaking two of their necks and incapacitating the
other three as he rolled to his feet, snapping off the point of the
spear on the cobblestones.

His breathing was uneven as he rose slowly to
his feet and pulled the remaining shaft out of his shoulder. The
enormous orcs’ blood was a garish green color, and it poured freely
from the wound to his shoulder. Never the less, he pulled his
jagged sword from its sheath and slammed it down into the skull of
the first human defender who approached him.

“Mind the breach! Leave this one to me.”
Kevin commanded.

The orc leapt up and perched himself on one
of the large wheels on the ballistae. The orc snarled as Kevin
motioned for his troops to move towards the breech and he walked
forward to face the large creature. He had no idea what to expect,
and what happened next was the farthest thing from his mind.

The orc roared and leaped athletically from
the wheel, bringing his sword up and crashing down on Kevin’s
unprotected head. Only his reflexes saved him as the eldest Prince
dodged off to his left, pulling a dirk from his boot and driving it
into where the creature’s liver ought to be. The orc stumbled
forward from the unexpected blow, but he quickly recovered.

He pulled the dagger from his side and tossed
it aside as he snarled once again, preparing his sword for another
strike. Instead of drawing back, Kevin stepped forward and drove
the pointed head of his axe into the creatures’ stomach. It let a
whimper of pain escape before growling. The orc wound up and
backhanded the elder Prince with a punishing blow that broke his
nose.

Kevin spun from the blow and fell to one
knee. With incredible speed the orc leapt forward and brought his
sword down in a swipe designed to cleave his human opponent in two.
Kevin rolled away, spun in place and readied himself for another
strike. Already his left eye was closing due to the damage
sustained from the strike from the orcs’ metal gloved hand.

His vision began to blur and take on a red
tinge as he forced his left eye to obey him and stay open. The orc
lowered himself slightly, preparing to launch another offensive,
when a defenders arrow took him mere inches from the dagger wound
Kevin had already inflicted. All pretense of cunning was thrown
away like so much ash on the wind. The orc roared again and
launched a powerful combination of attacks.

The orc brought his sword across in a
slashing move aimed at Kevin’s abdomen. The Prince leapt back and
let the strike go wide and drove his foot into the injured side of
the orc. The creature howled in pain and reversed the strike,
bringing his blade back looking to cleave the elder Prince in
twain.

Kevin’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of the
orcs forearm and slowing the blow down just enough to drive his
forehead into the orcs nose. The large orc stumbled backwards,
temporarily blinded by the Prince’s counter-attack. Kevin jumped
forward, bringing his axe up over his shoulder and crashing down on
the orc.

The large creature looked up with a sadistic
smile as he stepped forward and drove his sword right down to the
hilt into the Prince’s stomach. Kevin’s eyes widened in shock and
his axe fell from his limp fingers. He looked down at the hilt of
the sword and the blood already pouring from his gaping wound.

The world lost its color and his eyes rolled
up into the back of his head. The orc growled in triumph as he
pulled his sword free and Kevin fell to his knees. The elder Prince
swayed in place for a moment and he heard the unmistakable sound of
sword cleaving air and knew this was his last moment of life. A
loud clang of metal on metal rang in his ears and he fell backwards
as he passed out.

~

“My Lord!” General Frose shouted as he
watched Kevin Vallious take a sword thrust to the stomach.

The tide of battle was shifting as more and
more orcs cleared the breach and pushed the defenders back. Already
infantry soldiers were grabbing unfamiliar orcish bows and doing
their best to stem the flow of rancid bodies through the destroyed
freight doors.

The orc in front of him widened his eyes in
shock as he looked down. Frose followed to where he was looking and
was shocked to see what could only be called a dwarf standing at
his feet. His axe was jammed up into the orcs stomach and he barked
a laugh as he shoved it farther up, puncturing the creature’s heart
and lungs.

“Look’d like ye need’d help there laddie!”
The diminutive warrior shouted.

Frose looked around the battle as numerous
orcs fell backwards some similar attacks. A volley of arrow fire
took down another rank with surprising accuracy, drawing his
attention to the battlements. Tall lanky figures let fly from
curiously carved bows, each arrow taking the life of an orc
attacker until the breach was void of invaders once more.

General Frose looked around for Lord
Vallious, hoping to get between the orc and his prey. The large orc
was locked in battle with one of the tall humanoid figures. While
they were alike in height, the humanoid gave up at least
one-hundred pounds in weight to the vicious orc. With inhuman speed
the pair of them slashed and parried at one another.

Any human soldier who came too close was
quickly driven back by the impressive exchange. Frose called back
his soldiers and ordered archers to take aim, but hold their fire
lest they hit the humanoid. He watched in open astonishment as the
pair of them parried and struck each other. The ground beneath them
was splattered with garish green and bright red splashes of blood
as each combatant drew wounds on their opponent.