Draconis' Bane (43 page)

“My friend.” The
little man yelled.

Tristan looked over
to find his shield flying through the air. The guard hefted his
single bladed axe over his head and brought it crashing down
towards Tristan’s head. The Prince caught the shield by the strap,
swung it up over his head and drove his sword forward. The blade
slid freely into the guards’ stomach as the axe crashed into his
shield, buckling his knees under the power of the guards blow. The
little man cheered while hoping up and down.

“Oh well done!” He
cried as he applauded.

Tristan rolled his
eyes and shook his head. He pulled his blade free as the guard fell
backwards onto one of his dead companions. Tristan quickly changed
into his armor and when he finished, he headed back to the cell and
dragged both corpses into the guards’ room and barred the door from
the outside. Finally he walked back into the cell with his sister
and cousin, bent down and kissed his sisters forehead.

“I’ll be right back.”
He said, and then he placed his hand on his cousins’ shoulder,
squeezing it briefly, turned and walked purposefully out of the
room.

~

Danica Rhodes sat in
one of the rooms that had survived the destruction of the palace,
tending to her burns. Mystic fire scars never seemed to heal
properly she mused darkly. She made a mental note that she needed
to find a spell to conceal them by magic. Maybe it was time for a
new body she wondered. She’d read somewhere that with the proper
rights she could move her soul into a new body. Perhaps that young
Princess Vallious’ body would serve. Then she could keep an eye on
those dragon spawn scum herself.

Only a handful of
soldiers remained after her battle with that ambitious fool Rossi,
but it made no difference. It was time to move on at any rate. If
she was cunning enough she could find a way into Guis and steal the
Princesses body there. Then she could put an end to that damned
prophecy once and for all.

“You go too far
daughter.” A male voice called from the doorway.

Rhodes looked up at
the doorway to see a little old man standing there, leaning against
the doorframe.

“Careful father, I
keep you alive because you amuse me.” She warned.

Ben cleared his
throat, brushing away an imaginary speck from his ill fitting
tunic.

“I always said you
took too much after your mother.” He smirked darkly.

Danica seethed, she
hated her father. Her mother had been far more useful. She had been
a sorceress from Deus and she had taught her at an early age what
dragons really were. They impeded the progress of mankind. Let that
damn fool Vallious pay homage to his Dragon King, Danica vowed to
be Queen of all. Terum was now under her control, Guis would again
be soon, Sutten was only a matter of time.

They all would bend
knee to her absolute rule, and then she would see an end to the
dragon host and all their offspring. Unlike that fool Prince
Vallious, she was properly ashamed to be the off-spring of a
dragon.

“Mother hated you.”
She shot.

“Only because I
wouldn’t stay in this form for her.” He replied sarcastically.

“Henjis, you watch
what you say to me.” Rhodes warned.

Henjis, in his mortal
form as Ben the little old hermit, smiled widely as he mock yawned
to irritate his daughter. He turned away and walked out of the
room.

“I warned you.” He
sang from the hallway.

In anger she stood
and rushed to the door, meaning to yell after him.

~

Tristan picked his
way among the wreckage of the old palace, heading towards one of
the few standing buildings left. Broken windows, cracked support
beams and pillars littered the rubble of what must have been at one
point a rather nice building. Such a waste, Tristan thought. He’d
long ago quit trying to assign reason to the chaos that seemed to
be the
Bane
.

Still, he admitted to
himself, they had been effective for a time. Like all ambitious
groups though, it seemed that the price of success was for your
underlings to try and kill you. Too bad, Tristan thought
sarcastically. Only a score of buildings still stood on their own,
small beacons of civilization amongst the refuse of stupidity.

“Careful where you
walk young Prince.” A woman called from the doorway.

The Prince drew his
sword, and replied; “You can live if you tell me where the leader
is.” He called.

The woman laughed
loudly.

“Tell me young
Prince.” She began, walking out of the doorway and towards him.
“How is it that you come so far and don’t know who leads here?”

She slowly made her
way towards him, her burns and scars from the battle they’d
witnessed were coated in a green paste. The woman held her hands up
in supplication as she made her way through the rubble.

“No one seems to know
who leads here.” Tristan replied, lowering his sword slightly.

“Yes, well, that’s by
design isn’t it?” She replied in a friendly tone.

Tristan re-sheathed
his sword and lowered his shield.

“Who are you?” He
asked.

The woman was fifteen
feet in front of him when she stopped; she put her hands behind her
back coyly, rotating back and forth.

“Just an acolyte.”
She cooed.

“That was an
impressive display for an acolyte.” Tristan replied, narrowing his
eyes slightly.

“It was mostly smoke
and mirrors.” She replied lightly.

“The dagger was real
enough.” Tristan replied, thumbing the sword secreted in his
shield.

“True.” She
admitted.

The hair on the back
of Tristan’s neck began to rise as power was being built up. It was
done so quickly he barely had time to square himself behind his
shield as a fireball the size of a dog hit his shield and sent him
flying backwards. His breath exploded out of him as he smashed
through what remained of a stone wall and landed painfully on the
rubble strewn ground. He felt panic rise up inside him and more
power was collected, the woman shot forth a larger blue flame.
Tristan rolled backwards behind what was left of a support pillar
as the fire scorched it, rending even the rock face closest to him
hot to the touch.

Tristan drew his
sword and stepped out from behind the pillar as even more power
began to gather. The power of it was oppressive, like intense
humidity before a savage thunderstorm. He couldn’t breathe deeply
and it weighed heavy on his arms. She swung her arms around and
shot a ball of electricity at him.

The Prince brought
his sword up, hoping that it would protect him as it had in the
past. The lightning collided with his sword, hitting him with
errant sparks. His arms tingled, though most of the damage the
spell would have inflicted was removed. His armor smoked in spots
and his fingers twitched as they held fast to his sword and
shield.

“Oh very good dragon
spawn!” She shouted manically.

Tristan’s eyes
narrowed, he remembered Euri saying something about the leader of
Draconis’ Bane
being a woman, and this woman fairly reeked
of power and hatred for dragon kin. He discarded his shield,
pulling out the dagger Eurydice had given him. Both blades
contained hair of his mothers and both had saved him in the past.
He tried to gauge distances, trying to find a way to get close
enough to take her damned head off.

He felt little
tremors as she built up power for another spell. Tristan broke into
a run, rolling behind ruins as he felt magic power hit its zenith.
He rolled past an archway as a ball of lightning destroyed it.
Tristan was back on his feet and running towards her, once again he
felt power growing and he dodged off to the side as a spear of
light sizzled past his ear. He could smell the stench of singed
hair.

Tristan broke into a
sprint, quickly closing the gap between himself and the leader of
the
Bane
. He felt power grow again and crossed his blades,
hoping that his momentum would keep him moving forward. The power
continued to grow until Tristan was almost on top of her. A wave of
heat burst forth from her hands, slamming into Tristan and tossing
him backwards a few feet.

Wind was knocked out
of him as he hit the rubble hard again and was sent rolling to a
stop. He dropped the dagger as his hand collided with a jagged
rock, instantly broking his hand. Pain shot up his arm as hair rose
on the back of his neck. Another wave of power was growing and he
was quickly running out of time. Tristan leapt to his feet, looking
for a place to shelter himself from the attack.

Nothing was close
enough, all he could do was focus and hope his sword could take the
punishment. Power continued to grow as Tristan painfully wrapped
his right hand around his broken left hand and focused all of his
will to blocking whatever spell came next. His eyes opened wide in
shock as his blade began to glow, first pale white, and then red
and finally his hands started to vibrate as the blade turned dark
blue.

Her spell was
unleashed; a blue ball of flame crossed the gap between them. It
sizzled as it evaporated the moisture in the air. It closed in and
Tristan shut his eyes, trying to visualize the ball hitting his
sword and rebounding on the sorceress. He felt it hit the blade and
its momentum pushed Tristan back. He tried to focus on forcing it
back at the sorceress. The knuckles of his hands began to blister
and bleed, his arms were getting unbearably hot. The straps from
his bracers began to snap under the heat.

One of the bracers
fell off and the other hung limply from the single remaining strap.
Tristan’s eyes shot open. They were wide and illuminated by the
light of the blue flame and his hair flew backwards as the
intensity of the spell gained in power. Finally the pressure
disappeared as the ball of fire traveled back towards the woman.
She screamed as she erected a shield barely in time to deflect the
fireball, sending it arching off into the sea as she fell
backwards.

The woman screamed as
she leaped to her feet. She swung her arms around and quickly built
up the power of the last spell, but she didn’t release it, the
power simply kept building. More and more power gathered to her.
Tristan looked around in a panic; nothing appeared to be adequate
to leap behind for cover. The power continued to build and he began
to doubt if hiding in Metao would save him from this spell.

“DIE!” She screamed
wide-eyed as she released a green ball of fire.

A roar echoed off to
Tristan’s right, but he was too transfixed by impending doom to
even glance in its direction. He grabbed the hilt of his sword with
both hands and tried to focus. Tristan’s life began to flash before
his eyes, both the real life and his nightmare, superimposed one on
top of the other as though they had both happened.

NOOOO!
A voice
screamed in his head.

Tristan opened his
eyes to see a blur of black come between in and the green flame. An
enormous black dragon caught fire in front of the young Prince.
Quickly the green flame enveloped the dragon and turned blue, then
silver, then orange and finally red as the dragon crashed into the
piles of rubble surrounding them all. He skidded along the rubble,
sending pillars and walls tumbling to the ground and rolled over
the edge of the cliff and out of sight.

“FATHER!” The woman
screamed.

The Prince wound up
and threw his sword with his last vestige of strength. The blade
turned, end over end as it sang through the air. The woman’s scream
ended abruptly as she looked down. Tristan’s sword protruded from
her sternum and she looked up at Tristan with tears coming down her
face.

Limply she wrapped
her hand around the exposed blade of the sword, looking up to the
heavens and mouthing wordlessly. As a trickle of blood came out of
the side of her mouth she fell forward onto the hilt forcing it the
rest of the way through her and showering the immediate area with
blood.

Tristan felt tired
down to his very soul and fell to one knee. Every bump and bruise
hurt as though it was a mortal wound. He took a deep breath, trying
to steady himself. The last thing he saw was a pair of great silver
wings descending on him. Then he fell forwards and passed out.

“Tristan!” Euri
called.

He felt cold water
hit his face and sat up sputtering. He blinked a few times, trying
to remember where he was and what had happened. Eurydice’s painful
embrace reminded him all too well what kind of shape he was in.

“Are you alright my
boy?” Draconis called.

Tristan looked up at
the enormous silver dragon and smiled.

“I’m a little worse
for wear, but I’ll live.” He admitted.

William laughed
behind him as he grabbed a hold of Tristan and lifted the bruised
Prince to his feet. Tristan dusted himself off and noticed his left
hand was swollen and throbbing, though it no longer appeared to be
broken. He also sported various burns and bruises all over his
body. William handed Tristan’s dagger and sword to him as he looked
around the crumbling ruin.

“What now?” William
asked.

“We need to find that
crystal.” Tristan instructed as he sheathed his blades.

They spread out and
began looking. Tristan was tired; he could barely feel his own
hands and feet as he plodded along. Most of all, the Prince wanted
to sleep…for a week. As always though, duty over-ruled personal
desires and he trudged along searching for a black gem of who knew
how big in size.

After an hour or so
of random searching, he sat down for a moment to rest. No sooner
had he taken a seat when he snapped back up and ran over to the
building the leader had been hiding in. The building itself was a
smoldering ruin, but there was a smaller building attached to it
that had been untouched by the battle.