Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (38 page)

The orc pulled an arrow from its wound in his
side and drove it towards the humanoid. With inhuman speed the
thinner fighter spun, blocking the stabbing motion of the orc, and
came around using both hands to cleave the creatures head from its
shoulders. A fountain of green blood shot out of its severed
arteries and it pitched forward dead.

~

Three orcs stumbled into the hallway as
Tristan slammed the door to his room shut. He didn’t even have the
time to put his belt on. He grabbed the hilts of his sword and
dagger and pulled them clear of their scabbards as he prepared
himself for a fight.

The smallest orc was first back to his feet
and he snarled as he rushed forward, aiming the tip of his sword at
the unarmored Prince. Tristan bent his knees slightly, standing
there in only his trousers, and readied himself. He twisted his
blade around, batting the orcs off to the side and drove his elbow
up into its jaw. The momentum of its run carried it off its feet
and the orc landed painfully on its back and slid a few feet.

Air exploded out of its lungs and it fought
to draw breath in vain as Tristan’s sword was driven through was
served as its heart. A small shower of green blood shot out of the
wound as Tristan pulled his sword free in time to swat aside a
clumsy swing from the next orc with his dagger. The orc was off
balance and slammed into the wall. The Prince reversed his grip on
his sword and drove it into the back of the orc, instantly killing
it.

The last orc had gotten around him and kicked
open the door to his room. Tristan rushed forward as the orc ran
into his bedroom. A burst of light was followed by the sound of a
small explosion as the orc was thrown back out of the room. His
head exploded as he collided with the wall. The dead orc slid down
the wall, leaving a disgusting green bloody streak behind.

Jonathan poked his head out of the doorway,
using his hands to keep him upright. They still glowed with the
power he’d used to kill the orc. He smiled in his mischievous way,
and ran out into the hallway. Tristan dropped his blades as he
dropped to one knee and his son hugged him fiercely around his
neck. The Prince laughed as he stood up, holding onto his son. Mina
walked out of the room, smiling with pride as she walked towards
them.

~

A woman slowly made her way through his
soldiers. She was splendid in silver armor that glinted in the
sunlight. Her raven black hair blew behind her, held away from her
face by the strangest helmet; it protected the sides and top of her
head, but left her face blessedly free.

The old General concluded that she was the
fairest woman he’d ever seen, though the cast of her features
marked her as something different than the typical woman. A gust of
wind blew her hair away from her upswept ears and he finally
realized what these humanoids were. Unable to hide his astonishment
he blurted;

“Elves.”

“Indeed, sir. Where can I find young Prince
Tristan?” She asked. Her musical voice seemed to fill his head and
lighten his heart.

“He, he was injured and was taken to his
rooms.” Frose stammered.

The elf woman smiled warmly and Frose felt as
though his legs might fail him. Shaking his head roughly to clear
his thoughts he directed one of the Captains to take over command
and keep the breach defended. The elf turned and looked at one of
her companions who nodded and followed Frose’s Captain and took
command of the elves. She then turned back to Frose and motioned
for him to escort her. The old war dog clumsily held his arm out,
drawing a warm chuckle from the elf as she wrapped her arm around
his.

The precession included the elf, who
introduced herself as Giani, the dwarf, who introduced himself as
Neran and himself. Frose felt supremely uncomfortable, a feeling
that only intensified as the elf began asking questions about the
palace.

“What are those wires running along the
ceiling?” She asked gazing up.

“Huh?” Frose stammered, looking to where she
indicated. “Oh. Those are attached to cords in each room; they’re
run through the palace down to the kitchens where they’re attached
to bells used to summon servants.”

“Clever.” The elf complimented.

“No’ much else ha’ chang’d though hey
mistress?” The dwarf commented.

“Sorry.” Frose interjected. “Changed? Have
you been here before?” He asked, looking from the dwarf to the
elf.

“Oh yes.” Giani answered earnestly. “But that
was centuries ago when we were helping to build it.”

“Aye. S’was a grand party.” Neran grunted,
patting his belly in memory. The elf smiled in reply.

“But. Wait. How old are you?” Frose
stammered, disentangling himself from her arm.

“By the look of her I’d say five-hundred or
thereabouts?” Tristan called.

The Prince held his son in his arms, his
mother at their side walking down the hallway towards them. He used
his free arm to hug the laughing elf Queen and shake the dwarfs
hand as Frose looked on, still in shock.

The elf looked from Tristan to his son, who
was staring at her in open fascination. “This is the boy then?”
Mina stepped forward protectively as the elf held her hands out
towards the young man. Tristan consoled her with a brief look
before handing his son over to the elf.

“Lucky he got her looks I say.” The dwarf
commented.

Everyone laughed in reply as Frose continued
to look at the elf, trying to see how Tristan had gauged her age.
She appeared to be perhaps middle aged, though her fare skin showed
no hint of the wrinkles his sun burnt visage had.

“He is quite special.” The elf finally
judged, handing him to Mina. She looked hard at Tristan before
continuing. “We need to talk.” She pronounced.

“General.” Tristan called his old friends
attention off his continued staring at the elf woman.

“M’Lord?” He stammered.

“We’ll be in the main throne room, see that
we’re not disturbed unless it’s an emergency.” The Prince
instructed calmly.

“What of the rest of the orcs M’Lord?” Frose
asked.

“Did you bring him with you?” Tristan asked
of the elf.

“He’s in charge of the rear attack.” She said
with a proud smile.

Tristan chuckled in response. “I’m sure he’ll
be something of a shock for them. Well General, you can push them
back down the freight tunnel, but don’t go past the walls and don’t
fire from the walls. Let the elves and their allies sort it out.
Just defend our walls.” He instructed.

Frose saluted, turned and began walking
away.

“Oh!” Tristan called after him. “If a tall,
thin orc looking fellow comes up to the wall and announces himself
as Tulio, be sure to let he and his men into the city to rest,
they’ll be tired.”

Frose saluted again, clearly showing his
confusion as he walked away to a chuckle from the elf woman
directed at his Prince.

~

“So what is it we need to talk about?”
Tristan asked, sitting at the long table off to the left of the
throne. Power was just something that didn’t appeal to him, and any
chance the Prince had to abandon formality he relished. Fallout
from the Nightmare Spell he mused darkly.

“What do you intend to do with the remaining
modified orcs?” She asked bluntly.

“Right now Draconis, King Dion, Socolis,
Princess Eurydice and Bethia are commanding what remains of the
dragon younglings in the annexation of the race of magically
tampered orcs.” Tristan replied calmly as Mina fidgeted with
Jonathan next to him.

The Queen and Dwarf Prince took up chairs
opposite him at the table as servants rushed in baring trays of
sweetmeats, wine and water for his guests. The Queen took an
experimental sip of the wine a servant had poured for her and made
a satisfied face. Neran on the other hand pushed his aside and
pinched his nose as he drained his flagon of water. Tristan
chuckled and instructed the servant to bring out three flagons of
his own lager.

“Tulio would like to re-educate them.” The
Queen replied as she put down her glass.

“Sorry. I can’t allow that.” Tristan
said.

“Allow?” The Queen said, narrowing her eyes
slightly. Under other circumstances Tristan might have found the
look she was giving him with fear or at least concern. After the
events of the last few days, his sense of propriety and patience
was spent.

“Yes. Allow.” Tristan continued. “Elves might
be safe, these orcs haven’t been bred to hate your kind, but
they’re too much of a threat to our kind. If any of them displayed
even the semblance of remorse for what they’ve done here the last
few days, I might be convinced to give Tulio the chance.”

“Told ya.” Neran observed.

“You won’t even consider it?” She asked
politely.

“Considering my parentage, do you really
think I would risk our world turning into another Fangoria?”
Tristan asked.

“No. I suppose not.” She observed. “Dragon
spawn have a unique view of the world.”

“No other species has safe guarded the world
like they have. You hide in your forests, your minds stuck in books
that preach of kindness and gentle persuasion. Yet, your armorers
create blades sought the world over. A strange hypocrisy to sit
here and talk of peace.” Tristan accused.

“Now wait jus a minute laddie.” Neran
interjected.

“I’m not hearing any of it you two. I want
you to be part of our world, but I won’t sacrifice lives to do it.
If those orcs are left alive, they’ll breed, multiply and come
back. They’ve been bred to hate humans and dragons alike and after
your help today, it’s very likely they’re going to hate elves and
dwarves as well. They’ve been bred and raised to be zealots and
I’ll see an end to their wholesale murderous rampage.” He cut
across them.

The Queen sat there a moment, thinking on
what was said or planning her next rebuttal, either wouldn’t have
been much of a surprise. The lager was brought out and Neran busied
himself sampling the robust flavor of the beer.

“Fine.” The elf Queen finally announced.
“I’ll bow to your wisdom. What are your plans now though?” She
asked looking from he to Mina and Jonathan.

Tristan leaned back in his chair, wincing
slightly from his many wounds. “After the orcs are destroyed, we’ll
drive what’s left of their army out of Terum, seal the gateway and
rebuild.”

“And your son?” She asked.

“He’ll need to be educated. I’m going to look
to the elves and dwarves to teach him history, since most of you
lived through it.” He added sardonically. “Then he’ll be taught by
King Dion on how to rule the lands of men, leaving the elves and
dwarves to rule themselves as always.”

“What if we grow tired of our isolation?”
Queen Giani asked.

Tristan sat forward, placing his arms on the
table in front of him. “What do you propose?”

Jonathan played with Beths’ hair as she
carried him to Tristan’s right. Mina had her arm wrapped around
Tristan’s left arm. Neran walked beside a terribly nervous General
Frose who had Queen Giani holding onto his arm as he escorted her
through the rebuilding town of Terum around them.

“Yer engineers make good progress.” Neran
observed.

“Anything’s possible with dwarfish
contraptions to help them out.” Tristan added with a crooked
smile.

In front of them a dwarfish work team was
operating a crane as humans aligned the roof they were lifting into
place on the walls of the town hall. Neran was correct though,
Tristan mused, the town had simply woken up driven to repair
itself. With dwarfish help, the human engineers had made
astonishing progress.

Even now Tulio could be seen directing elvish
workers who were busy rebuilding the central inn. The owner looked
on, torn between joy at the reconstruction of his business and what
appeared to be a lanky orc overseeing the process. Frose would
probably be sharing his trepidation if the Queen wasn’t working her
charms on the old war dog. Mina looked over at his rising alarm at
Giani’s attention with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“How’s the work on the gateway coming along?”
Dion asked as he walked towards the group.

“Me cousin says it’ll be dun in less than a
week yer Highness.” Neran replied with a grin. The pair of them had
hit it off weeks ago over a cask of lager Tristan had been saving
for just such an occasion.

They made a quick pass around town, the King
joining their observation of the reconstructions. Eventually they
made their way back to the palace where everyone entered the throne
room and took their seats around the dining table. Talk around the
table turned to the mundane until Queen Annadora entered with
Eurydice in tow. Limping behind them came Lesa being helped along
by Otis. The pair of them had become nearly inseparable since their
battle with the sorcerers and their mystical purple dragons.

In their draconic form they didn’t look
nearly as odd the couple as an ancient looking white bearded man
and a young vivacious golden haired beauty. Drake entered last,
looking much better from the last week of rest and healing though
he still limped slightly. The sun shone through the many windows in
the throne room, adding to everyone’s good humor.

It was bound to happen, and it was
appropriate that the eldest person in the room be the one to break
the mood. Drake sat opposite his son-in-law and looked around the
table, staring each person in the eye, before asking;

“What do you intend to do now?” He asked,
looking between Tristan and Dion.

Tristan had put this very subject out of his
mind for weeks. A courier had been sent to Alison informing her of
her husbands’ death. Two days later everyone had packed their best
clothing, mounted the closest dragon and flown to Kenting to entomb
Prince Kevin and hold a public service.