Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Validus and Grinner slowed a bit as the road rose up the hill on the other side of the valley and travel became more difficult. Stone towers stood as beacons at the top of the hill far above them. The horses dug in and pushed on as if drawn by these mighty towers scratching at the sky. They were still making good time, and Jom appeared to slowly be regaining his strength. The group rode along in silence. Maelich had nothing he felt like talking about, and Perrin hadn’t made a peep. They trudged wearily on, slouching in their saddles. The trail had whipped them.

  Once dusk began to settle in, Maelich noticed three shapes that seemed to be floating toward them again some distance back. It appeared the dead-eyed men hadn’t given up their pursuit after all. They had just been more careful not to be spotted in the sunlight. It didn’t look as if they were gaining any ground on the group but they certainly hadn’t lost any either. Maelich, in his frustration, thought briefly about facing them once more. The idea died a quick death. The trail had taken most of the fight he had in him. Conquering the remainder of the hill would probably earn the rest. Those dead-eyed things would have to be dealt with eventually, but they were a good distance back. Apparently, Jom felt less comfortable about that distance. His hackles went up as he growled a low warning that would have been lost on all but Maelich’s small group. Had the scrod not been bound good and tight to Grinner’s saddle, he might have tried running those beasts down and having another go at them. As it was, all he could do was lie there and growl.

  The path continued to brighten as they approached the kingdom. Torches burned along the road, and light poured out from the huts lining it on either side. The monsters pursuing them were far enough back that Maelich could no longer see them through the torchlight. The fact did little to ease his tension. A bizarre chill lingering about his spine was all the proof he needed that they were still there, and they were coming.

  As the group trudged up the hill toward the great city, the buzz they created among the townsfolk seemed to grow into a live and tangible thing. Whispers and grumbles sprang from all sides. Here and there a head would pop out of window and someone would mutter at them. They’d say things about demons wandering around in the darkness or staying off the road or staying away from their home or blah, blah, blah. Maelich ignored it all. His goal was clear to him, and it was all that mattered. The townsfolk knew nothing of him or his small group.

  Then, suddenly, as if the massive iron thing had been hiding in the ground and sprung up twenty feet into the air to catch Maelich and is group by surprise, the iron gate loomed before them. As odd as it might sound, the heavy, closed gate—wide enough for two carriages with bars as thick as a big man’s thigh—appeared as welcoming as the open arms of an old friend. A great wall of brick and mortar surrounded the oily, wonderful thing, and a mighty iron emblem hung above it etched with the word Havenstahl. The great city Ymitoth had spoken of so fondly finally had a name.

  “Havenstahl,” Maelich nearly gasped as his eyes moved ever upward, above that most excellent of words, to a picture of a fallon with a grand rack and a helmet, the symbol of his father’s house, the house that finally had a name, Havenstahl.

  Relief swept over Maelich like the first bit of warmth off a new fire on a cold night as he marveled at the symbol stretching toward the sky before him. Rapt with delight, he hardly noticed Perrin’s sleepy eyes peering over his shoulder.

  “Is this being our home now?” Perrin’s voice sounded small.

  “That’s what I be hoping,” he replied as he pressed his gaze through the thick, iron bars.

  The biggest bridge Maelich had ever seen stretched up against a giant wall on the other side of a wide chasm. How deep he could not tell from his vantage point. It was quite deep, from what Ymitoth had told him, and at the bottom flowed the river they had crossed into the Sobbing Forest. He had told Maelich that to get to the great kingdom of the north you must cross the river twice. This would be the second crossing.

  Two guards dressed in full armor—so shiny they seemed to glow in the torch-light—stood posted in front of the gate with spears at the ready.

  “State your name and business with the house of Havenstahl, lad,” the guard to the left spoke with authority.

  Maelich was quite sure of his name but not completely sure of his business. “I be Maelich, this be Perrin, and we be seeking one that we lost,” his voice carried as much confidence as he could muster in his tired, road-weary state.

  “Maelich, whom do ye seek? What business do children be having traveling alone in the dark? What house ye be riding for?” the guard’s tone carried an undeniable note of skepticism.

  “If I be riding for a house, it be the house of Ymitoth. As for the business of children, we’ve not a place to stay nor a parent to care for us. The road has been our home for a time,” Maelich had enough of his wits left about him to handle the guard’s interrogation quite handily.

  “Ymitoth ain’t no house,” the guard began. “Ymitoth rides for the house of Havenstahl which be standing before ye now. What do ye know of the great and mighty Ymitoth?”

  “I be knowing that he’s raised me from a babe, trained me as a warrior and been the only father I ever known,” his reply was curt.

  “Ymitoth ain’t no one’s father. A warrior be he, with the fury of the mightiest army on Ouloos at his command. Now ye tell me that he be a father? The duty of me post don’t allow for laughter, but what ye say be more than ridiculous,” a slight chuckle accompanied the guard’s words.

  “I be speaking what I know,” Maelich continued. “The man who raised me was named Ymitoth, and he acted as me father till he abandoned me the last time the moon been at its fullest. I’ve lost track of the days, as I be weary from the road, but I be guessing it to be weeks by now.”

  The first guard whispered something to the other and then returned to Maelich. “Water your horses there and then go inside and sit by the fire till I call for ye,” he said as he pointed first to a well and then to a hut on Maelich’s left side. “I’ve sent for Ymitoth. Welcome home, Maelich. Forgive the questioning. Ye be quite dirty from the road and I had to be sure that ye are the one Ymitoth be expecting. My Lord would be all full of the rage if I’d be sounding out a false alarm.”

  Maelich did as he was instructed. First, he watered the horses, and then he took Perrin and Jom inside the hut to wait for Ymitoth. Shadows crept around the stone room as flames danced about in a small fire. The girl and the scrod found sleep quickly while Maelich thought about what he might say to his father. His mind was like a mass of mashed stew. It was certainly nice to be expected, but the road had been an unforgiving witch. Perrin and Jom were evidence of that. Their eyes were nearly closed before he had even gotten them inside the guards’ room. Maelich was twisted in a tangle of mixed emotions when the heavy, wooden door burst open.

  “Maelich, me son!” Ymitoth boomed.

  Maelich hesitated only for a moment before running to his mentor and embracing him. “Father,” was all he could muster at first.

  “Ye’ve passed your last test. Ye be ready for the trials,” pride dripped from Ymitoth’s words as he all but shouted.

  “I be having a few words about me test, father. I thought ye abandoned me, that ye left me to die. I did almost die. How could ye do that to me?” Maelich’s tone grew almost accusatory as his anger mounted.

  “Maelich, me son,” Ymitoth began as he pushed Maelich back to arm’s length and looked him in the eye. “That be the way it had to be. The road before ye ain’t an easy one by no measure, and I be needing to know that ye be prepared for it. Had the road claimed ye, then I’d know ye ain’t suited for your purpose and your life would be without meaning anyway. Ye’d have no reason to be, lad.”

  “So ye’d be chancing the sacrifice of the closest thing to a son ye’ve ever had to test your ability as a trainer?” Rage bubbled up in him, betrayed by the only parent he had ever known, “Be I but a tool for your ego, father?”

  “Stand down, Maelich,�
� Ymitoth commanded with a king’s authority in his voice. “I’ve done nothing without purpose, and the trials ye be facing be much more perilous than anything the road could have offered ye. Ye must be trusting me when I be saying that had ye known I been testing ye, ye’d not have been challenged at all. Ye’ve a great mind, Maelich. Ye know this to be true.”

  Maelich’s rage yearned to spill out at Ymitoth, to engulf him in a flood of accusations, but he did speak the truth. He had trained Maelich to do exactly what he had done, conquer the road to Havenstahl. Had he known his purpose, it would have been no challenge at all. Now, however, there was this new thing, the trials. Judging from Ymitoth’s brief description, they would not be easy tasks. Maelich’s ire faded slowly like dyed fabric left out in the bright sun, as his thoughts turned toward his next challenge.

  “Son,” Ymitoth began again, “I knew ye would conquer the road. Ye be the mightiest warrior I’ve ever had the pleasure of standing next to in battle, and I be meaning that. Ye’ll be passing the trials and continuing on your path. Ye’ll be the greatest hero this world has ever known. They’ll sing songs about ye, lad. Now, let’s get ye cleaned up.”

  As Ymitoth turned back toward the door, he nearly tripped over Perrin and Jom. “What have we here?” he asked with a raised brow.

  Maelich had all but forgotten. “Oh,” he began, “I found this little lass in a small village on the banks of the river. Her name be Perrin. Her home had been attacked by amatilazo the night before I arrived. The scrod be Jom. He be the only reason she survived. No one else did. She’d no one to care for her so I took her as me own till I be finding a safe home for her.”

  Ymitoth frowned a bit and shook his head. “Tis a noble thing ye done, son. Though I be wishing ye were without the baggage, ye did the right thing. We’ll be finding a caring family to raise her.”

  The two men roused Perrin and Jom and headed out of the small hut, chatting as they went. Ymitoth ordered the guards to send for someone to care for the horses, and then he and Maelich’s group started across the great, wooden bridge into Havenstahl. They were just inside the gate when a scout who had been watching the perimeter of the outlying town came charging up the road, hailing Ymitoth.

  “Sir!” the scout shouted.

  Ymitoth stopped and turned, “What be troubling ye, scout?”

  “Cloaked men on the road milord, they seem to be floating above the ground!” the scout reported, stopping to salute.

  “Floating? That be sounding like the myth. Could it be?” Ymitoth asked, mostly to himself.

  “What myth?” Maelich asked.

  “There be a myth about men with black, dead eyes and wild, orange hair. They be the high priests of Kallum,” Ymitoth answered offhandedly, still trying to reason why they’d be heading up the road to Havenstahl. “They don’t be having thoughts of their own. Kallum’s thoughts be all they know, but they were all men once. They be the only men to have direct contact with Kallum. They enforce his law. It can’t be. Even if they be real, what could they be wanting with Havenstahl?”

  “Black, dead eyes?” Maelich asked. “Those be the men who attacked us in the Sobbing Forest. They attacked us both in the forest and in the night while we camped. They’ve been following us since the forest.”

  “What?” Ymitoth almost hissed. “Run, Maelich.” He pushed his son further across the bridge. Then he turned back to the guards, “Close the gate! Don’t be hindering them, they’ll have at your hides, but don’t be hurrying about nothing either.”

  Ymitoth scooped Perrin up under his arm and sprinted across the bridge that quickly closed after he, Perrin, Maelich and Jom had crossed it. As they ran he instructed Maelich to tell him exactly what they were doing when first attacked by the priests in the forest. Maelich recounted the whole story as they ran. He told him about the song he was singing the first time they encountered them, how fiercely the trees had defended them. Then he recounted the episode on the dark trail and how they followed the rest of the way to the great, iron gate. Ymitoth listened, shaking his head and cursing under his breath.

  Once safely inside the city walls, Ymitoth quickly guided them to an interior guard station, leaving Perrin and Jom with the two stout men on duty there, along with instructions to hide them both until he returned. Then he explained to Maelich the severity of what he had done in the forest.

  “Maelich,” he began, quite out of breath. “Ye be knowing about Kallum’s law. Ye be knowing that ye’re to be worshipping none other than he. When ye sang in honor of them trees, well that been a kind of worship. Ye broke the law he gave us, lad. Ye’ve disrespected Kallum. Ye’ve disrespected your god, your maker. Do ye understand me, son?”

  “I…I…meant no disrespect, father,” Maelich stammered.

  “This I be knowing. That don’t change the fact that ye broke his law, and those priests be wishing to punish ye for your transgression. That means Kallum be wishing to punish ye for your transgression. We must get ye to the temple so ye can beg his forgiveness and, hopefully, lessen your penalty. In the future, son, don’t be trusting the trees. They be evil.”

  “Aye, father,” Maelich had no idea how to respond.

  Maelich was barely aware of the polished, stone streets his feet hammered against, or the massive walls stretching toward the sky beside him, as he charged along close at Ymitoth’s heels. How could singing to trees be an affront to his god? How could sharing a tune be a sin? It made no sense. The trees didn’t seem evil at all. Sure they were frightening at the outset, but once they grew comfortable with him and his group, they were downright friendly, even helpful when those vile creatures set upon them. How could those things be priests of Kallum? They seemed evil, like something that crawled out of the deepest, darkest pit to terrorize the world.

  The questions fled when Ymitoth reached back, grabbed a firm hold of Maelich’s sleeve, and all but dragged him up the steps toward yet another large, brick building. Everything in the city was brick upon brick. Maelich gave half a moment to consider who might have laid all that brick, and how long it must have taken. The thought was there and gone, chased away by the marvel before him—windows of colored glass glowing red with light from within and etched with scenes of stories Maelich had learned reading the book—and the righteous terror on his tail. They pounded through a heavy, wooden door, Ymitoth still dragging Maelich behind him. Inside the temple, rows of wooden benches lined either side of a wide path leading to a shimmering prang altar. An image of a bold and vibrant old man, painted in colors so bright it seemed he might step right off the brick, graced the wall behind it. Above the image was that of the great eagle, Kallum, wings spread and ruling the sky. Ymitoth dragged Maelich all the way up to the altar and then stopped.

  “Kneel!” Ymitoth commanded. “Beg Kallum’s forgiveness. Pour your heart and soul into the prayer, son. Pray like ye’ve never prayed before.”

  Ymitoth’s eyes darted about the room while his hands trembled. Maelich had never seen him so aghast. Ymitoth feared nothing, at least, that is what Maelich always believed. Watching his hero shiver and twitch like a coward among corpses chilled Maelich to his bones. He clinched his eyes up tight and feverishly prayed. His lips moving around silent words, apologizing over and over again for his song to the trees and then reciting every prayer he knew. Ymitoth knelt beside him and offered his own prayers begging Kallum’s forgiveness for his thick-headed son. Both men had their heads buried in folded hands as their feverish whispers choked out the silence of the temple.

  The temple door blasted open again as the priests flooded in. Ymitoth spun and flung himself at their feet, wrapping his arms around the leader’s legs.

  “Please have mercy, milord. The lad knew not what he did!” Ymitoth nearly sobbed.

  Maelich turned in time to see the priest grab a handful of Ymitoth’s cloak and toss the great warrior to the side, slamming his helpless body against the wall. Maelich’s fear melted against the fire burning in his gut. He was ready to go round with the mons
ters again. Kallum’s priests or not, he was done fleeing. His jaw flexed as he stood tall before them like a stone statue facing off against a furious storm.

  Ymitoth gave into the sobbing and begged, “Maelich, please,” he cried, “stand down!”

  “Shut your dribbling gob, you worthless scrod,” the leader hissed at Ymitoth. “The great and mighty Ymitoth blubbering like a damned fool.”

  His eyes turned back to Maelich who remained unflinching. “Maelich,” he began. “Are you afraid, lad? Are you afraid of what I’m going to have these monsters do to you? Are you fighting back tears? Do you want to run from me like some kind of animal?”

  Ymitoth cried out to Maelich, “That be the voice of Kallum himself, son. Don’t ye be challenging him. Kneel before your god, boy!”

  One of the priests stalked over to where Ymitoth lay against the wall and grabbed him up by the throat. He picked him up off the floor like a sack of rags before slamming him into the wall. Maelich scowled as his father lost consciousness at the dead-eyed man’s feet.

  “Get away from me father!” Maelich commanded, his booming voice filling the temple and echoing back off the polished, stone walls.

  “You’ve yet to answer my queries, lad. Are you afraid?” The priest’s voice was powerful and frightening, but Maelich remained unmoved.

  “I be full aware of me transgression in honoring the trees with song. I stand before ye now, ready to accept me punishment, truthfully unafraid. Me father, though, he be committing no sin. He be spending his whole life in your faithful service. I be asking that ye be merciful to him.” The fire burned hotter in him than it ever had before. His eyes began to glow a dull red.

  The priest that had been speaking began to chuckle and then stopped just short of an all-out laugh. “Maelich, the trees are of no consequence. They do serve the dragon and symbolize all that is evil, but your resolve is much too strong for their wiles. I sent my priests to test your might. Trees or no trees, you would have met these beasts one way or another. The forest was simply the perfect, dark, frightening place for you to have your first meeting. You are to be my champion, Maelich, the champion of this world. I need to know you are ready, for the road before you is much more perilous than the road behind. You are ready, my son. You are ready. As for your…father, you have no idea how much courage it took for him to stand before me as he did. As your mind ages you’ll begin to understand. For now, don’t let his whimpering lessen your image of him. You’re different than him. You’re different than any of my creations. I still keep Ymitoth in my grace. He is a faithful servant to me and a brave testament to what a man should be. You will continue on your path and he on his. We are finished for now. I am the god of all creation. I am all powerful.”