Draconis' Bane (23 page)

“Your Highness, I…”
He stammered.

“I won’t hear of it.
Worry not young Prince. You are a far better match than I’m likely
to find among my sycophantic nobles.” He dismissed. “Besides, we
Guisians have a slightly less formal process for mating than your
countrymen.” The Raj explained.

The Prince was
relieved that he hadn’t caused insult, but he wasn’t sure what was
being said. Akbar must have sensed his hesitation as he spoke.
“Prince Tristan. In Guis, a woman chooses who she will, there is no
wasted time bantering back and forth about what is already a
foregone conclusion in her mind.” He explained.

“There is no, how do
your people say,
Battle of the Sexes
here. Men and women are
equal and while marriage is still a covenant, the young and
available take mates as they please.” He explained.

Tristan was still
very uncomfortable that the whole royal family was well aware of
his...activities. He accepted what he was being told as the truth
from their point of view, much in the way that he accepted
everything that had happened to him since waking from his
nightmare. He smiled uneasily as the Raj let forth a boisterous
laugh. After a rather enjoyable meal, Tristan and Mina escaped to
the gardens around the palace.

For weeks they
enjoyed their time walking around together, talking, kissing, and
making love under a large fruit tree. Every night he fell asleep
with her in his arms and every morning he woke to find her out of
bed and waiting for him in the main chamber for morning court.
Slowly he migrated from his seat to Akbar’s right, to sit next to
his love.

After a month of
this, he was invited to sleep in her apartments, which became more
of a home to him than any place he could remember. Long nights of
inventive love-play, discussing the future and exchanging stories
made the Prince feel as though he was floating on air.

~

Three months later,
while enjoying another evening meal with The Raj and his family, a
horn sounded from the courtyard. Akbar looked towards the doors as
one of his aides came rushing in. They exchanged some whispers and
Akbar announced; “General Fudi has returned My Lord.”

“Excellent!” The Raj
said. “Prince Tristan, please come and meet one of my finest
royals.”

The Raj led everyone
out into the courtyard where a tall man of average build was
climbing down the rope ladder used to mount the large war
elephants. He smiled at the Raj and came forward, bowing down to
one knee.

“Your Highness. I
humbly greet you.” The General said formally.

“Rise, rise my
friend. It is good to see you home at last.” The Raj stepped
forward and hugged the General. He stepped away holding the General
by the arms. “You look well. The cowards are routed?”

General Fudi returned
the grasp.

“They are, they dug
themselves in by an oasis. We drove them out in time.” He
explained.

“Well done.” The Raj
congratulated. “We’ve had a visitor while you’ve been gone.”

“Oh?” Asked Fudi.

“Yes indeed.” Raj
Julpinu turned and called Tristan forward. “May I introduce, Duke
Tristan of Durshire.”

Fudi extended his arm
and grasped the inside of Tristans forearm.

“
The
Prince
Tristan?” He asked, and Tristan nodded. “Well, your reputation
precedes you My Lord.”

Tears gathered in
Fudi’s eyes as he looked over Tristans shoulder. He released his
grip on Tristan’s arm and in two strides had Mina in a tight
embrace.

“My love, how I’ve
missed you.” He choked.

Tristan looked from
the Raj, to his wife, then finally to Mina looking for an
explanation. Mina pushed away from Fudi and walked over to Tristan,
encircling her arm in his.

“It is good to see
you alive and well General.” She replied stiffly and then she
guided Tristan back into the palace. The Prince didn’t know what
was going on, but as soon as they were back in her apartments he
was going to find out.

The Duke hadn’t heard
so much yelling since his nightmares. Fudi had followed them back
to her apartments, pushed him aside and thrust Mina into the room.
He’d locked the door and no one was able to get in, least of all
Tristan who fumed in the hallway as he heard loud voices arguing.
His temper was beginning to rise inside him like a bear, ready to
strike.

Eventually the door
was flung open and Fudi drove his shoulder into Tristan’s as he
stormed out of the room. Prince Tristan entered to find Mina crying
on her bed, mumbling incoherently to herself in her native tongue.
Tristan couldn’t think of anything to do, so he gently put his hand
on the small of her back, rubbing there in a consoling way. Mina
flung her arms around his neck as she continued to sob loudly.

The young woman cried
herself to sleep that night.

General Fudi wasn’t
in court the following morning. Tristan had left Mina to the tender
mercies of her chatelaine and sat to Peria’s right. After court was
through they’d shared a noticeably somber breakfast and Tristan was
quietly sent back to his love. The change couldn’t have been any
more pronounced.

When he entered her
apartments she flew into his arms as though they’d been apart for
years. Her frenzied passion was met by his, as they made love in
the steaming heat of the bathtub. Mina seemed unwilling to discuss
the situation further but it was clear to Tristan that Fudi and she
had once been lovers.

He’d long ago been
explained the way things worked in Guis, but he still felt vaguely
guilty for the pain he’d caused. The third day after the General’s
return, he came to the main chamber for morning court. At breakfast
they made strained discussion and afterwards Fudi invited Tristan
for a walk.

Months ago Tristan
had given up walking around armed at all times, and today he
questioned that decision as they walked around the palace
grounds.

“I’ve been told that
you and Mina are rather fond of one another.” The General said,
though it seemed to Tristan as though he was asking.

“I love her if that’s
what you mean.” Tristan replied.

“It is.” Fudi said.
After a few quiet tense moments, he spoke again. “I know that she
feels great affection for you. I had planned to petition her father
for our marriage.” He blurted.

Tristan’s jealousy
flamed like the green-eyed demon it was and he spoke hotly. “You
may, though I don’t see what a soldier can offer her that I
cannot.” He shot.

General Fudi stopped;
he turned and slowly regarded the younger man.

“Of that I have no
doubt young
Lord
.” He replied abruptly and stormed away.

Fudi was obviously
frustrated and angry that the situation was completely outside of
his control. It was the first time Tristan had ever asserted his
rank and he’d known it has been a cruel jab. He wasn’t convinced
that this was the last he was going to hear about this love affair
before the end of the day. Thinking ahead, the Prince quickly made
his way back to his apartment and retrieved his weapons from the
wardrobe there. He was cinching up his belt when Knight-Captain
Robertson walked in.

“Expecting trouble,
my Lord?” He asked.

“Yes, and I dare say
you know why.” Tristan replied sarcastically.

“I make it my
business to know why, young pup.” Robertson replied with a
smirk.

Tristan looked up to
find the Knight-Captain smiling his sarcastic half-smile.

“Have you ever loved
someone Lance?” He asked.

“Indeed I have boy.”
He replied.

“What did it feel
like?” Tristan asked, suddenly feeling very young and unsure of
himself.

“What did it feel
like?” Robertson asked, Tristan replied with a nod of his head as
the Captain sighed.

“Well, I guess it
felt like I would die without her.” He replied.

“Where is she?”
Tristan probed.

“Died, in childbirth,
as did my son.” Robertson replied somberly, losing his smile.

“I’m sorry.” Tristan
replied quietly.

“Don’t be lad. As
they say;
that’s what the fates had in store for me.
”
Robertson admitted.

A knock interrupted
their discussion as a Guisian servant stuck his head into the
room.

“They’re calling for
you in the main chamber My Lord.” He said quickly and darted back
out.

“Wanna bet it’s that
Fudi character?” Robertson asked.

“No bet. Assemble the
men.” Tristan asked, as Robertson moved towards the second room.
“In dress uniform.” He added.

The Knight Captain
groaned dramatically and kicked the door to the soldiers room open,
causing the young monarch to laugh.

Tristan fidgeted with
his tunic; he was now used to the humidity here, but putting a
thick Vallius tunic on made him chafe. Guards opened the large
double doors to admit the Prince and his guards into the main
chamber. He wasn’t surprised to find that General Fudi standing
there in his full dress uniform to the left of the throne.

The Prince approached
the throne, bowing low to Raj Julpinu who spoke quietly. “Prince
Tristan, it pains me to say this, my young friend, so please bear
with me.” He began.

“General Fudi has
requested
huego-todo
.” The Raj blurted.

“And just what the
bloody hell is that!?” Knight-Captain Robertson yelled at Tristan’s
side. The Prince put a restraining hand on the Captains arm.

“A duel, My Lord.”
Offered Akbar. “To the death.” He added, his eyes widening
dramatically.

“I see,” Tristan
began. “You think that one of us dying is going to solve this issue
do you?” He directed at the General.

In response Fudi
began unfastening his tunic, a murderous glare in his eyes. Tristan
sighed as he also removed his tunic and slowly drew his sword. Fudi
threw his tunic aside and drew his falchion with a sadistic grin.
The Prince supposed that the General was laboring under the mad
idea that Tristan was unfamiliar with duels. Sadly, that assumption
was about to cost someone his life he mused darkly.

Fudi leapt off the
plateau bringing his sword down on the Prince. Tristan raised his
sword and parried the attack as Fudi’s momentum carried him past
the young Duke. Fudi spun around, calculating distances as he
prepared to strike. He launched an over-head slash which when
Tristan deflected, surprisingly it turned into a swipe across his
stomach.

Tristan jumped back
as Fudi’s blade sliced through the Princes’ shirt. Tristan was
prepared as the thrust came next and used his blade to bat Fudi’s
aside. The Prince spun around and brought his sword slashing
towards Fudi’s neck. The experienced General raised his blade and
caught Tristans, deflecting it upwards and dangerously exposing
Tristan’s torso. Fudi used his speed to good effect delivering a
shallow slice along the side of Tristan’s ribs.

The Prince drew in a
sharp breath, feeling the wound with his free hand as Fudi smiled
widely. While not inexperienced, he felt like he was in over his
head. Fudi feigned a thrust, which Tristan batted aside only to
find Fudi’s blade swinging around at his neck, Tristan’s blade
snapped up and blocked the strike. Using his superior height,
Tristan pushed the General back for a break.

The Prince was
quickly losing his temper as every one of Fudi’s attacks seemed to
be aimed at humiliating him, rather than killing him as the
ridiculous rules suggested. Tristan assumed that the challenge was
meant more to instill fear in the young man, rather than any real
intention in killing him.

Instead of looking
for killing strokes, Tristan’s tactics changed, he set about
not
to lose. As the thrusts, parries and reposts continued
Tristan passed up obvious killing strokes for slices to enrage the
older more experienced swordsman. After fifteen minutes of back and
forth, both men’s shirts were soaked with blood and sweat and their
grip on their blades began to suffer for it.

Tristan found himself
dangerously off balance as his hilt slipped slightly in his grip
during a thrust. Seeing the weakness Fudi lashed out, only to find
that Tristan had faked the slip. The Princes blade snapped up
deflecting the blow and inflicting a slice along the inner arm of
the General.

Fudi’s blade fell
from limp fingers as his strength gave way. Tristan spun in place
and brought his blade in a high arc aimed at Fudi’s neck. For a
brief moment Tristan considered taking the older man’s life. A
quiet voice in the back of his mind reminded him that the General
was fighting for love as much as he was. The Prince stopped just as
the blade touched the older man’s jugular. Tristan lowered his
blade, breathing heavily.

“I…don’t….want….to….kill….you.” He gasped.

“That…is…a….shame….”
The General began. “BECAUSE I WANT TO KILL YOU!” He screamed as a
small dagger shot forth from a spring-loaded holster in his
sleeve.

Fudi lunged only to
find Tristan’s blade beat aside the dagger. The Prince spun again
using all of his speed to draw his dagger, reverse the grip and
slam it into the Generals jugular. Fudi fell sideways, wrenching
the blade out of the wound. A fountain of blood came pouring out of
it in a high arc.

“NO!” Screamed
Akbar.

The hairs on
Tristan’s neck stood straight up and the Prince sensed there was a
powerful spell being weaved. He brought his sword and dagger blades
together and spun on the balls of his feet. Much to his own shock,
a ball of fire erupted from the candle between Akbar and himself.
The fireball rushed towards the young monarch who focused all of
his will on the blades, although he wasn’t sure what it was going
to accomplish.

The fireball barely
made contact with the blades and ricocheted back towards the
sorcerer. Akbar tried to focus his mind for another spell as the
flaming ball closed in on him. The chamber was filled with his
scream as the ball struck its creator, consuming him in a morbid
pyre.