Draconis' Bane (24 page)

“Fudi! NO!” Mina
cried.

Tristan spun around
to see Julpinu’s daughter fly from the plateau and take Fudi in her
arms. She tried to stem the flow of blood from his neck, completely
soaking the silken robe she was wearing. The color drained from
Mina’s face as she looked from Fudi to Tristan’s bloody dagger.

“What have you
done!?” She shrieked.

“You were supposed to
die you dragon-spawn scum.” Julpinu muttered from his throne of
pillows.

“What?” Tristan
replied with confusion.

“You arrogant
bastard, did you really think my daughter would freely chose to
sleep with you?!” The Raj asked.

“What have you done
husband?” Peria pleaded at his side.

“Silence woman!” He
shouted at her.

“You swore you were
done with them!” She sobbed.

Julpinu back-handed
his wife and sent her tumbling from the plateau, “I said SILENCE!”
He screamed at her.

Peria lay on the
floor, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back
of her hand. Her gaze was just as murderous as the one Fudi had
given Tristan scant minutes ago.

“You told me you were
done with them! You lied to me! They are evil!” She screamed at
Julpinu.

“They have guaranteed
me my kingdom and when they finish their task they will reward me
with a part of Vallius as well!” He yelled back at her.

“LIES! They will take
all that we have and kill us for our people to see!” She screamed.
“You have been duped; you are not the man I married!” She
accused.

“SILENCE WOMAN!” He
moved towards his wife again.

Tristan came and
stood between them, “You will not strike her again.” He said with
finality.

“Out of the way boy!”
He grabbed a hold of Tristan and tossed him off the dais with
surprising strength, given his ample girth around the midriff.

Julpinu lifted his
wife up by the front of her robes, his face red with rage. He
opened his mouth and a shallow whimper escaped. Tristan watched as
the large man toppled over, dropping his wife. Shocked, Tristan
looked from the body of the Raj to his wife. In her hand was the
discarded dagger of Fudi’s.

“The dagger must have
been poisoned. She barely nicked his arm.” Knight-Captain Robertson
said from the dead Raj’s side. “Pretty fast acting poison if you
ask me.”

“HOW COULD YOU!?”
Mina screamed.

Everyone spun around,
looking at Mina cradling Fudi’s head in her lap. Tears ran freely
down her face, causing her makeup to run down and land on the dead
General’s face. She looked up at Tristan, her green eyes burning
with anger. Tristan could have sworn they’d been brown, he’d lost
himself in them so many times he was sure of it.

“Magic.” Tristan
muttered, putting the pieces together in his mind. The Prince’s
knees failed him and he dropped his blades as he slumped on the
steps of the throne.

A few weeks later,
Tristan sat alone in his apartments packing the last of his
belongings in his travel pack, completely dejected. He’d realized
after killing Fudi and the Raj’s aide what must have happened.
Akbar had used his arts to manipulate Mina’s emotions. After all
the dust had settled, Knight-Captain Robertson had returned to
their apartment and thrown two dragon pendants on the Princes bed.
He also informed the Duke that the Lady Mina was pregnant with his
child. Upon finding out, she had become ill and locked herself away
in her rooms. Tristan had approached the widow Peria the next day
and asked for her daughters hand in marriage.

“Young Prince, should
your wife not love you freely?” She asked.

“Of course.” Was his
quick reply.

“If she were to marry
you, she would not come to love you. Bitterness will always tarnish
any relationship you could ever hope to have. I’m very sorry young
man. I understand how you feel. I too loved someone who couldn’t
love me back. After the service you have done for my kingdom, I
could never hurt you in such a way.” She calmly explained, touching
his cheek tenderly.

For hours Tristan
cried, completely ashamed with himself, falling prey to the ruse
set into play by the sorcerer and his master. Another cruel test at
the hands of
Draconis’ Bane
, only this one had brought him
closer to self-destruction than ever. He withdrew from his
comrades, from his friends, alone in his anger and sadness.

Two days later
Captain Robertson had dragged him out of bed by his hair, an act
that surely would have earned him a swift execution back home. He
dragged his monarch, kicking and screaming, to the nearest pond and
threw him unceremoniously in. The last of his guard watched on, not
smiling and not frowning. They simply watched as the Knight-Captain
yelled at the Prince.

“It’s time you get
over your self pity and loathing pup! You’re a leader of a nation,
you lead and men follow. Snap out of your selfish moping! There’s
work to be done!” He bellowed.

So filled with anger
and resentment Tristan lashed out and punched the old man in the
face. The Knight-Captain barely flinched, for he too was filled
with anger. He stared back into his Princes eyes, not giving him
the satisfaction of showing his pain. Standing there soaking wet
and humiliated, Tristan began to laugh. His guards looked on,
uncomfortable and not knowing what to make of the display.

“I assume I’m stuck
with you.” The Prince said.

Knight-Captain
Robertson smiled crookedly.

“Seems fate is a
heartless bitch my Lord.” He replied with a chuckle.

The two men embraced
one another as the guards cheered.

Tristan still wasn’t
shaken of the depression that had gripped a hold of his young
heart, but he wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity. It occurred to
him some time later that it was that altercation that endeared the
old war dog to the Prince. It was an odd sort of friendship. Less
than a year ago either man would have happily killed the other.
That’s what
The Bane
wanted though. Dissention, chaos and
confusion and he’d be damned to the lower hells before he gave them
the satisfaction.

So, depressed and
nostalgic for simpler times, Tristan packed the last of his
belongings. During his stay in Guis his father had sent
instructions for Tristan to include Sutten in his diplomatic
journey. The Prince wasn’t sure what other trials awaited him, but
he would be better prepared for them now. The Knight-Captain and he
agreed on one thing though,
Draconis’ Bane
wasn’t likely to
give up anytime soon.

The pair of them
discussed strategies at great length over the following days.
Robertson wasn’t as comfortable with the magical aspect of the
attacks on Tristan; he preferred to face his enemies with his sword
in his hand. The young Prince decided in the process that
Draconis’ Bane
was quite possibly larger and more organized
than either of them could imagine.

Tristan had grand
plans for driving the members of the cult into the open, though
Robertson wasn’t convinced that it was a sound strategy. Still, his
patience when discussing the finer points of Tristan’s plans served
them both well. The night before they were to leave Delhi, Tristan
invited all of his men into his room for one last discussion before
they traveled out of Guis.

“Alright, let’s face
it. I’ve been played the fool. Lance and I have discussed it and
he’s willing to give me a second chance. If you’re willing to do
the same, stay with me. Be my eyes, my ears and my hands. Today we
stop being commander and soldiers. Today you are my brothers, you
are my friends.”

He paused, looked
each man in the eye, memorizing how they watched him, their
expressions and their trust in him.

“Today, we become the
Shroud of Darkness
. Our mission is simple. We will see the
end of
Draconis’ Bane
.”

The Prince went into
detail on his origins with the men, including his blood lines, the
spell that damaged his memories, even the latest attempts on his
life. When he finished the men looked at one another.

Corporal Kincade was
the first to speak up. “I’m with you, my Lord.”

The sentiment was
echoed by the other nine men and finally the Knight-Captain.

“You’re not going
anywhere without a proper chaperone.” He said with his usual
crooked smile.

The men assembled
their travel packs and led their horses to the palace gates.
Tristan was glad to put Guis behind him, the trip here had been a
whirlwind of emotions and frankly, time in the saddle to mull over
the torrent of thoughts crashing around in his head was more than
welcome.

Waiting for them at
the palace gates was the Lady Peria with a few of her personal
guards.

“M’lady.” Tristan
bowed.

“Prince Tristan, I
can’t thank you enough.” She said a little stiffly.

Tristan chuckled. “I
can’t imagine what for, Lady Peria. Killing one of your better
Generals and your chief aide, impregnating your daughter or
exposing your husband as a traitor?”

She smiled
hesitantly. “All of them actually.” She laughed. “My country is
free again and after meeting you, I think I’m going to enjoy
raising my grandchild.”

The Prince forced a
smile in reply.

“Don’t worry young
man. I’ll send word when the child is born. You can come for a
visit. My daughter will have recovered by then I’m sure.” She
soothed.

“Well then, I thank
you for your hospitality.” Tristan replied affecting a respectful
bow.

Peria surprised him
by embracing him. “You come back and visit an old lady Tristan, my
heart needs the jump start from time to time.” She whispered in his
ear with a laugh.

He bade her farewell
and
The Shroud
mounted up, their tabards discarded in their
former apartment. Tristan settled into the saddle, back in his
usual red trimmed armor, and signaled for the group to move out
into the Guisian countryside.

By the second night
Delhi was a distant light on the horizon behind them. Tristan sat
at the camp fire polishing his armor as Knight-Captain Robertson
approached.

“We’ve got a problem,
Your Highness.” He blurted.

“Oh?” Tristan asked.
“What now?”

“I sent young Santos
out to hunt up some fresh meat.” He began.

“And? I would admit
some fresh meat would be welcome, though it’s hardly earth
shattering if he wasn’t able to track anything down in this desert
my friend.” Tristan joked.

“No my Lord. It’s not
that. He spotted something and came rushing back.” Robertson
replied.

“I can hardly wait.”
Tristan replied dryly, lowering his armor and paying closer
attention.

“A force moves this
way.” The Captain began uneasily. “They all bare the dragon pendant
my Prince.”

Tristan’s eyes
widened in surprise. “Excellent. We could use a lead. How many
come?” He asked eagerly.

“Thirty my Lord.”
Robertson replied.

“That’s it?” Tristan
was surprised.

The Prince assumed
that after the events that had come to pass in Delhi the enemy
would have sent an entire legion after them. The Prince’s eyes
narrowed dangerously as he formulated a plan.

“Bring all the men
over here Captain. I’ve got an idea.” He asked.

“Your ideas make me
nervous pup.” Robertson chuckled as he walked away.

Tristan put his
breastplate back on, laced up his grieves and was just putting the
knot in his sword belt as the Knight-Captain returned with the
assembled members of
The Shroud
. The Prince motioned for
them all to sit down around the fire and after everyone was settled
Tristan spoke to them.

“What I’m about to
suggest most likely goes against all of your training.” He began as
he looked each man in the eyes. “That company of bastards out there
thinks they’re being terribly clever and waiting for us to lower
our guard before they attack.” The Prince explained.

Several of the men
chuckled at this. “Clearly they think too highly of themselves, so
we’re going to present them with the perfect opportunity to
strike.” Tristan continued. “Everyone is going to scatter in a
ragged circle and pretend to sleep,” The Prince looked directly at
the Captain.

“That includes you
too.”

The plan, as Tristan
outlined it, would be to create the illusion that his men were
exhausted and reckless. The two men that would have been centuries
tonight would lean against one another and make a show of being
deeply asleep. The rest of the men would do likewise scattered
around their camp. Tristan would appear to be dead asleep near the
fire.

The thought was that
the enemy was merely waiting for the Valliusians to become
careless. Tristan would rather create that illusion now than truly
be exhausted in a few more days of hard rides and terrible rations.
So the men dispersed from around the fire and headed out to their
appointed positions to wait.

Tristan drew his
dagger and jabbed it into the ground next to him. Laying on a log
the men had built their fire near; he pretended to be in a deep
sleep. Forcing his breath into long even pulls, he tried to focus
his mind and calm himself. After almost an hour of this charade,
Tristan was ready to give up assuming their attackers just wouldn’t
fall for such an obvious ploy.

Instead, the young
Prince was rewarded with the sound of a boot heel slipping down a
steep hillside. It took all of his effort not to grin in spite of
himself when several of his men made dramatic grunting noises as
they turned over in their ‘sleep’. Tristan could clearly hear five
men walking quietly towards his position by the fire.

The young Prince
heard a sword slowly clear its sheath, the soft rattle of metal on
metal as an arm was raised. Time seemed to slow down as Tristan
grabbed his dagger and flung it at the first attacker.