Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) (3 page)

Slowly the giant lost its balance and came
crashing down. Lancers raced forward and launched their spears as
the giant looked up. Four of them found their marks in its eye. It
rolled away in intense pain, screaming as blood flowed from its
eye.

“Flee!” Tristan shouted as he saw the giant
roll into another one bringing it down as well.

The pavilion began to tip backwards as his
unit wheeled around as one and rode hard back towards their lines.
Kevin joined him as his unit came forward and another round of
ballistae missiles rocketed across the gap over their heads.
Risking a glance backwards Tristan saw two miss completely, one
shatter on the pavilion’s defensive shield and the last one pierced
the stomach of a giant, bringing it to its knees. The giant wobbled
hopelessly and grunted something in their strange language before
falling over, shaking the ground around it.

By the time Tristan, Kevin and their men had
returned to their own lines the pavilion had shattered behind them
as it hit the ground. A joyous cheer went up from his men. The
cheer caught on like wildfire, spreading along the entire
centerline of Tristan’s forward position. An odd silence followed,
making Tristan wonder if he’d gone deaf. He turned in his saddle to
see the author of his forces silence. The dust had cleared from the
rubble to reveal the sorceress floating several feet off of the
ground, her puppet King supported below her by her arts. She
shrieked in anger and vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

As more of the dust cleared, Tristan could
see the enemy army in full flight. The drawbridge slammed down onto
the road it blocked as Boris’ soldiers ran for their lives. The
three circling dragons looped down lazily, picking up random
enemies and throwing them into the walls, rocks or simply into
other groups of fleeing soldiers. The Prince could see Socolis lift
up a trebuchet and throw it into one of the few companies of men
who had elected to stand and fight. King Boris’ army was in full
rout as they fled back towards Kumia. Tristan’s soldiers slew the
last giant as the dragons made sure that whatever squads were brave
enough to stick around, ended up on fire or eaten.

Slowly Tristan’s forces cleared the area as
they moved forward to occupy the fort. The moment Tristan entered
the fort he sent for one of his better commanders, Colonel Yeris,
as he stripped off his gloves and sat in the main chamber. It had
been cleverly built, and Tristan was thankful he hadn’t tried to
take it by force. What looked like a simple wood and stone fort was
in fact reinforced with long thin poles of iron that appeared to
make the walls almost impossible to collapse.

He was thinking of its construction and what
could be accomplished if he could figure out how they fired the
iron poles and kept their strength when Yeris knocked and entered
the chamber. Serving almost a year together had created the kind of
simple discussions that the Prince had enjoyed with Captain
Robertson. The Colonel motioned to a seat in front of Tristan, and
with a nod from the Prince; sat down.

“You sent for me?” Yeris asked.

“Yes.” Tristan began. A servant came in with
some water and jerked beef, placed it on the table between them and
quickly departed with a bow. “Winter should be here in a few weeks
I’m told.” The Prince said. “I’m going leave you with some
messenger pigeons, and the bulk of the army.” He explained.

“Where are you off to my Lord?” He asked
formally. Yeris did this when he was uncomfortable with orders; he
reverted to guard respect least his annoyance show.

Tristan sighed dramatically. “I need a
vacation. I haven’t left the lines in almost a year and I’m getting
sloppy.” He admitted.

The Colonel began to object. Tristan cut him
off before he could get started.

“I’m putting you in charge, keep vigil over
the fort and its surroundings.” He ordered. “They’ll regroup for
the winter, we bloodied them horribly today.” He explained more
calmly. “If you need anything, send a fast rider or a homing pigeon
to Duke Kevin.” Tristan said finally.

He leaned back in the chair and allowed his
chin to drop onto his chest. Almost instantly he passed out of
exhaustion, days of fighting with little sleep and several wounds
finally took their toll.

~

Tristan passed in and out of consciousness
for the next week. On the second day he awoke freezing cold, his
teeth chattered loudly and he wasn’t able to move his body so he
could curl up. A warm body pressed reassuringly next to him and he
was briefly aware of the smell of lilac before he sighed deeply and
passed out again.

~

The Princes eyes opened slowly. He tried to
wipe the sand from his eyes only to find that his arms were bound
to the bed. He struggled uselessly as he tried to roll over and
found that his legs were likewise bound. Outside of the room he
could hear three people talking loudly.

“His fever broke this morning.” A familiar
female voice said.

“Has he woken up yet?” His brother asked.

“Not for the last two days.” Alison replied
quietly.

Tristan’s throat was dry and he was quickly
becoming irritated at being tied down. “He’s up now!” He shouted
hoarsely.

The door flew open admitting Kevin, Alison
and the matron of their son, Maggie. The young servant rushed
forward and made herself busy checking over his dressing. Finally
assured that her handiwork was still in place she began untying his
restraints. Kevin looked down at his brother, smiling warmly while
his wife looked curiously relieved at his side.

“What happened?” Tristan asked, his voice
cracking slightly.

“You took an arrow in the side little
brother.” His brother chuckled. “How you couldn’t feel it while you
occupied the fort is beyond me.” He observed.

“Kevin rode you like mad back to Kenting.”
Alison explained; her face still white with fear. “I was afraid he
might have done more harm than good.” She concluded, casting him a
mock accusing look.

“Maggie here has been seeing to your
healing.” She said finally.

At the mention of her name, Maggie’s cheeks
flushed as she untied Tristan’s left wrist. Her face was inches
from his as he quietly said. “Thank you.”

She mumbled her reply and quickly shuffled
over to the fireplace and stoked the fire, adding logs to it from
the cutout in the wall beside it. Tristan watched her closely,
remembering moments of consciousness when he could hear her singing
quietly to him as she changed his dressings or washed his sweating
forehead and chest. Kevin cleared his throat theatrically,
wrenching Tristan’s attention back to his brother.

Kevin smiled as he said; “You got an
infection, it must have been a filthy arrow at any rate. Took the
healers hours to clean the wound and dress it properly.” He
explained calmly, though Tristan could tell his brother had been
greatly disturbed. “Good thing you’re in shape. The damn thing
could have killed you.” He observed.

Tristan sat up in the bed. His side itched
like it was on fire, just below his rib cage, though he fought not
to scratch it. Alison came around the bed and Tristan rolled his
eyes, assuming she would mother over his wound. Instead, she wound
up and hit him in the shoulder.

“It’s time to get your armor resized!” She
accused with a laugh.

The Prince looked down to see the fresh
dressing in his side; it looked as though it had just slipped into
the gap where his armor was tied. Over the last year he’d come into
his last growth as he broadened out and his chest expanded. This
created gaps in his cherished armor, and he simply did not have the
time to have attended to. He had begun packing the gaps with thick
leather, though clearly that wasn’t enough.

His brother and sister-in-law chucked as he
sighed dramatically at his own error. They bade him goodnight as
Maggie walked over to him and began checking his dressings again.
Her touch was electric and it made him draw in his breath
sharply.

“Did I hurt you?” She asked, her face losing
color.

“No.” Tristan answered simply, grasping her
arm gently and pulling her towards him and kissed her.

Tristan Vallious stood in the main hall,
splendid in his black dragon scale armor trimmed in red. Fresh
dragon scales, donated by his grandfather, had been stained and
added to fill in the gaps. His scimitar and dagger hung at his hip,
partially hidden by the long black cloak he wore. A small curve in
the black cloth folds on his back were the only hint at his shield
strapped to his back.

Kevin and Alison Vallious ran their court
with practiced ease and efficiency. Each citizen stepped forward to
state his or her case and each was dealt with politely. Kevin’s
court was much more organized than their fathers, though they only
had a duchy to administer and The King had an entire country.
Still, Tristan mused, he could see his brother bringing his
attention to efficiency and loathing of politics to the throne when
he assumed it in a few years.

Maggie came into the hall through the back
door that led to the bedchambers and main dining hall. In her arms
she carried Nathan, Kevin and Alison’s son. Already he showed the
baring of his mother, and the size of his father as Maggie was
forced to rebalance the baby Prince on her hip to compensate for
his size.

Tristan smiled at her, which she warmly
returned as she made a show of readjusting the way she carried the
lad. Upon viewing his parents he had begun to squirm and try to
break free so that he could waddle over to them as he enjoyed
doing. Tristan smiled as he walked over to her, his cape flapping
behind him, and offered to liberate her from his nephews growing
insistence.

“Having trouble milady?” He asked playfully
as he rescued her from the baby’s squirming. He lifted Nathan into
his arms; the little Prince regarded him skeptically before giving
in and relaxing with a huff of indignation.

“Just a little my Lord.” She purred, wrapping
her arm around Tristan’s and leaning her head against his
shoulder.

Alison had given birth just weeks after they
had returned to Kenting. Due to the current state of things in the
western half of the continent, Tristan had decided to set up his
command post inside Kenting town. Between the brothers, they had
made headway over the last twelve months. The two of them
controlled a third of Terum province along a stable front that ran
from the south of The Great Expanse, and extended south along the
Vallius, and Sutten borders. With their Cousin Williams’ aid they
used Sutten forces to swell their numbers to a hundred thousand
men.

Even with the added men and the small
victories, Tristan felt as though they were dangerously
over-extended. He longed to have Captain Robertson at his side.
Sergeant-Major Frose was a more than acceptable substitute though.
The grizzled old man had arrived at the head of what remained of
the 7
^th
Infantry mere days after Tristan’s arrival in
Kenting. The grouchy old war dog spared no words, simply grasping
Tristan’s’ forearm in greeting and offering his services, which was
quickly followed by poorly concealed irritation at being
promoted.

The Prince enjoyed having the old man around,
he put Tristan’s mind back to Robertson whom he missed more than he
could have thought possible. He could hear his ghost yelling orders
over his shoulder, giving Tristan ideas to bring victory out of the
grasp of defeat.

Tristan scowled slightly as Kevin looked over
at the Prince and Maggie and raised his eyebrows dramatically. His
brother smiled at Tristan’s dark look, causing his wife to look
over with one of her characteristic knowing smiles that she knew
irritated Tristan to no end. The Master of Ceremonies tapped his
metal clad staff on the floor three times, announcing the end of
morning court.

Alison and Kevin rose from their seats as the
citizens, patricians and other minor nobles were escorted out of
the main chamber. Alison relieved Tristan of Nathan as the five of
them retired to the dining hall. They passed a set of windows on
their way and Tristan chanced a glance outside, checking the
weather. For the last few weeks the temperature had lowered to the
point where now frost gathered on the lawns surrounding the keep
every morning. A dense fog hovered over the area blocking
everything that wasn’t within the keep walls from view.

They entered the dining hall as Timon came in
the servants’ door with a several members of his staff, each
carrying a tray of food for breakfast. Tristan pulled out a seat
for Maggie to Alison’s left and then made his way around the table
and sat down at his brother’s right, pointedly ignoring his
brothers’ smile and loaded up his plate with a wry grin.

“So little brother,” Kevin began. “How much
of Terum do you plan to conquer today?” He asked with a
chuckle.

Tristan looked at his brother out of the
corner of his eye as he tore his sweet roll in two. “Oh, I was
tossing around the idea of breaking their forward lines and cutting
the country in half.” He chuckled.

Maggie’s face drained of color as she looked
up from the plate she was feeding Nathan from. “What?” She asked
breathlessly.

“They’re playing with you Maggie.” Alison
said, looking daggers at her husband and brother-in-law. “You two
behave yourselves.” She ordered them with a smirk.

Breakfast passed pleasantly afterwards, the
family sharing a laugh as Nathan trounced his sweet roll with his
wooden play sword in front of the fireplace.

“Seriously though.” Kevin said, pushing
himself away from the table. “What are your plans?” He asked his
brother.

“Well, with Winter Solstice behind us for
another year.” Tristan began. “And the heavy snows just weeks away,
I was actually thinking of leaving the bandit King alone to brood
over the cold winter months.”