Free Deadly Intentions (Blood Feud - Volume 2) by David Temrick Page A

and
strove to impart the last of our magic to protect you.” He turned
to Eurydice.
    “You my little one were something of a
surprise. Our magic had long since departed us when you were born.
It’s no small miracle that you survived.” Drake said with a
wink.
    Euri beamed at his praise, which caused
everyone to smile. Their grandfather turned and looked hard at
Tristan.
    “Your son is nothing short of astonishing.
With the exception of Ruth,” He nodded his head to the human form
of Raithia. “We’ve all visited with him and marveled at his
abilities.” He smiled widely again.
    Tristan blushed slightly, partly due to the
attention (which he still loathed) but mostly due to the
circumstances of his son’s birth. Drake waved impatiently, clearly
feeling Tristan’s thoughts.
    “If the events had not come to pass as they
had; we might all be fighting a war with an invisible foe.” He
dismissed. “As it is, we know that a group moves to destroy the
eggs here, kill your son in Delhi and finally to rid the world of
our kind. We can only guess at their leader, but at least we know
who the worst threat is right now.” He concluded.
    “Boris and his sorceress.” Tristan said
somberly.
    “Precisely.” Lesa said.
    “Should we tell him?” Otis asked
playfully.
    “Oh definitely. I love watching his
expressions.” Ruth answered enthusiastically.
    “Tell me what?” Tristan answered ominously
looking around himself with narrowed eyes.

Chapter 4
     
    King Boris stalked through the ancient halls
of Kumia Keep. The fortress was built into the side of an
impressive mountain range. A clever collection of traps and troughs
funneled the rainwater into a long river, though it must have taken
years to fill it. The river ran in a looping way around the estate
and helped to ferry supplies and food to various rooms and chambers
scattered around the grounds. Walls rose up from the cobblestone
ground at their feet. The long sections stood twelve feet high, the
towers rose to twenty and the royal apartments rose fifty feet into
the clouds that hung in the cool of the morning.
    Service tunnels had been dug into the
mountain, giving supplies and travelers from the city below the
keep access. Each tunnel was expertly carved from the rock and
every few feet housed a support structure that kept minor
earthquakes from caving the entire works in on itself. At the base
of the mountain was another large series of walls, both to defend
the passages and as a defense for the city.
    The snows had started weeks ago and Boris
chaffed to be back out in the field. If it hadn’t been for those
damned dragons he would have broken Prince Tristan’s lines and
scattered his forces. Then he would have been free to march on
Kenting and later the rest of Vallius would fall at his feet. He
stopped a moment, steadying his breathing and pushing aside his
ambitions.
    “Here and now.” He chastised himself in
barely more than a whisper.
    The King looked out the nearby window on the
snowy, fog-obscured vista that was Kumia town. The Terum citizens
were off on their daily routines, satisfied in the knowledge that
he would watch over them. The troublemakers and decedents had been
crucified or impaled in the town square, which was little more than
a packed dirt four-sided marketplace. When the bodies had finished
twitching and the last of their muscles slackened, filling the air
with the repugnant stench of their filth, Boris had ordered them
decapitated and their heads now rested on pikes at every
intersection and marketplace all over the city.
    To serve as a warning.
    With winter upon them Boris took the time to
fully equip his army, even managing to force the metal smiths into
making plate mail breastplates and helms for the giants. The work
was tedious, but they had managed to create a score of passable
breastplates, which consisted of several large sheets of inch thick
plates. It was fused and formed into a patchwork-inverted triangle
to protect the giants