From the sadness on one throne and the melancholy on the other to the doorway of the great room ran a velvety, red carpet flanked on either side by warriors. Hard looking men, they were dressed for battle with swords drawn and resting against their shoulders.
With Ymitoth at his side, Maelich approached the thrones while trying to appear as regal as possible. Embarrassing his father was the last thing he wanted to do. Despite the guards scrutinizing him with scowls and sneers as he and Ymitoth passed them by, he didn’t miss a step. Keeping a tight hold on his excitement, he remained expressionless.
The two men stopped roughly ten feet before the thrones. As they did, three other guards appeared from behind the king. These appeared ready to fight. Maelich only gave them a moment before directing his attention back to the king. If need be, he was ready to trade steel. Ymitoth stopped about ten feet before the throne and bowed, Maelich followed suit. “Your highness,” Ymitoth offered as a greeting.
“Ymitoth,” Yfregeof replied, seemingly bored by their presence. “Would this,” he paused, looking Maelich up and down before continuing, “waif of a lad be the one ye presume to offer up for the trials?”
“Aye, your highness. This be Maelich, the chosen. Chosen by Kallum himself to ride against the dragon, he must bear the crest of Havenstahl. He must be taking the trials.”
The king forced an unnatural laugh. “This lad won’t be passing no trials, just have a look at him, ridiculous.”
“Test him first then,” Ymitoth’s response was quick and soaked in anger. “I’ve trained this boy since he’s been big enough to raise a sword. I put him up against your best warrior.”
Yfregeof looked up at the soldier to his right and motioned his head toward Maelich. The warrior responded by charging headlong and drawing his sword as he came. Maelich pushed Ymitoth to the side and then dove over the man’s head, smacking him in the backside as he passed. He hit the grounded lightly on his hands and then smoothly rolled back up to his feet. After tossing a quick wink to the king, he spun to face his attacker who had landed in a heap on the ground. The warrior’s cheeks were a deep shade of red by the time he made it back to his feet.
The soldier charged again, this time stopping short and slashing with his sword. Maelich easily dodged the assaults, gaining more confidence with every slash. The blade flashed, catching sunlight from the window and splashing on the walls. The angles seemed impossible, but Maelich slipped around the shimmering thing as it split the air yearning to taste his flesh. The fury of the assault slowly faded as the muscles behind the blade began to fail. Finally, the thing slammed against the floor. Maelich never paused. He stepped on the blade, pinning it to the floor, and drove his right fist into the big man’s nose. He earned a bit of gore on his face as the bulbous thing shattered along with the soldier’s cheekbones. He followed his right hand with a left that connected squarely with the man’s jaw and sent the dazed warrior stumbling to the floor in a pile. The blade Maelich had been dodging clanged to the floor. He gave it a little kick to put it out of his adversary’s reach.
By the time Maelich turned back to the face the throne, two more of the king’s guard were charging. He stepped to his left and kicked the first one in the ankles sending the brute sprawling to the floor. Then he jumped up and kicked the second soldier in the chest. Arms flailing, the thickly-muscled man stumbled backward several steps before Maelich’s foot pounded into his jaw. The latter kick deposited the warrior in Yfregeof’s lap. With that the king jumped up off his throne toppling his soldier to the ground at his feet.
“Enough, ye fools!” He shouted. “Me best warriors and ye can’t even strike down a wee lad?”
Maelich wore a cocky smirk as his gaze met Yfregeof’s head on. He meant no disrespect, the man was the king after all, but wanted to send a clear message he was not afraid.
“So Yfregeof, about Maelich’s trials, would ye like for him to lay your entire army to waste without drawing his sword? Or would ye rather lay the test before him?” Ymitoth beamed as his words strolled slowly from his mouth.
Yfregeof sighed and looked up at the ceiling as his expression became resolute. He remained like that for a moment, frozen, like he thought they might leave if he ignored them. After what seemed an eternity to Maelich, the king lowered he head and smiled. “So it be a test ye want then, lad? Well then, it be a test ye shall get. Bring me the head of Ahm.”
Maelich’s smile pushed his cheeks nearly to his forehead. He had no idea who, or what, Ahm was, but was eager to test his might against a worthy opponent. His jaw went slack when he heard his mentor’s protest.
“What?” Ymitoth hissed. “The trials normally be consisting of the head of an amatilazo or a grong. Now ye be requesting the head of a giant, the same giant who killed both our fathers? This be no test. Ye be sending him off to the slaughter,” spit flew from his lips as his cheeks shook like trembling mountains roiling above an active fault.
“I accept your challenge!” Maelich triumphantly announced before Yfregeof could respond to Ymitoth’s protest.
“Ah, of course ye do, lad,” Yfregeof chuckled. “Ye be too dumb to be feeling a lick of fear of any man or beast.”
“This be wrong, Yfregeof, and ye know it. Despite the lad’s skill and confidence, this test be wholly unfair.”
“Me lips have spoken me final words on the subject,” Yfregeof’s nonchalant reply nearly smacked of boredom. “Accept the challenge or don’t. I ain’t a care to waste on it. The journey be two days on foot across Galgooth’s Pass to the city of Maomnosett. If ye be accepting me challenge, ye’ll be leaving just as the day be fading to night. Ye’ll be going alone. Ye won’t be entering the gates of me city again without Ahm’s head on a spike. That be all, ye best go make your preparations.”
Ymitoth’s tightly set jaw with cheeks all pulsing and flexing knocked a bit of the wind out of Maelich’s sails, dulled his bravado. Why the scowl? The challenge was his to accept, and he did. The same man who had spent the best part of Maelich’s life blabbing about how he would grow to be the greatest hero Ouloos had ever known suddenly seemed full of doubt in his star pupil. Maelich chewed on the doubt oozing off Ymitoth’s face as they walked back toward the throne room’s entrance. It didn’t make any sense. If he were to be the savior of Ouloos, how could Ymitoth doubt his chances against any foe? What was a giant anyway, besides a very large man? All of it was too much to keep in his head, that had already grown a few sizes after besting the king’s guard.
“Why would you presume to keep me from my destiny?” he erupted as soon as the two men had made it back to the great hall. “Have you no faith in your pupil? Have I not shown you time after time I can bear the burden of my destiny? Also, tell me this, what have I if not the confidence and support of my mentor?” Rage at Ymitoth’s lack of faith churned in his guts.
“Ye don’t understand…” Ymitoth’s expression softened as he tried to explain, but Maelich cut him off.
“Oh no, I understand completely,” he fumed as the two men stormed down the hallway matching each other’s stride perfectly. “I am hardly more than a parlor trick to you. Some fancy moves to topple a few guards and showcase the fantastic tutelage of the mighty Ymitoth are fine. It is just fine when they are all marveling at this thing you have molded with your own two hands. But a real test of your star pupil’s ability? No, a real test is something I can’t handle. I cannot believe you do not trust me to conquer this challenge.”
Ymitoth stopped and sighed. His gaze dropped away from Maelich’s to the floor as he slowly ran a hand through his hair. “Maelich,” he began softly, a bit of gruffness in his voice, “it ain’t a lack of faith be sparking me concerns. Yfregeof has beaten these people of Havenstahl down. They be living in fear of that monster, Ahm, and in this,” he paused and rubbed his neck, “in this he be winning no matter the outcome. If ye be killing that giant, he be looking like the hero what saved Havenstahl from the shadow of Maomnosett. And if Ahm be killing ye, then Yfregeof be justif
ying his lack of response to the murder of me father and his, and the people of Havenstahl be living in even deeper fear of that monster.”
Maelich stopped, took a deep breath and continued calmly, “Do you think I can defeat Ahm?”
“If there be any soul in this land what be having a chance, it be ye,” Ymitoth replied in a somber tone. “If ye be taking this challenge son, ye can’t be failing.”
“I won’t,” Maelich said, sober and confident. Then a bit more quietly, “I won’t.”
The two men walked back to Ymitoth’s quarters in silence. Maelich would need clothes suitable for travel and conquest. He’d need food as well. Ymitoth brought up the idea of sneaking away and meeting him on the other side of Galgooth’s Pass to assist him. Maelich quickly shot the idea down. It was his test and his test alone. Pass or fail, he would take the challenge unassisted. Ymitoth agreed and helped him only to pack for his short journey.
Chapter 8
Maelich’s Trial
Blazing orange on the eastern horizon licked up into the sky before melting into fiery reds and finally giving way to purples and pinks as Maelich and Ymitoth made their way down to the north gate of Havenstahl. The north gate of the great city was a near mirror image of the south gate, minus the grand bridge over the River Galgooth. Rather than pouring out onto a gentle slope into a wide valley, like its southern counterpart, the north gate led out to a narrow path on ground that remained level for about one hundred yards before plummeting down the side of the mountain. Maelich squinted slightly with his left eye as the sun defiantly blazed against dark skies eating at the edges of its light and bathed his destination in rusty orange. From where he stood, Mount Elbahor seemed to be glowing rather than reflecting the rays of the dying sun. Maomnosett, formerly Alhouim, was built on the peak of the mountain, twin to the peak Havenstahl rose from, and Maelich could faintly make out the shapes of the grand towers of Ahm’s palace. Two day’s journey indeed. There wasn’t much rest factored into that estimate. That was fine with Maelich. He was ready to finish his trial and move on to the next thing, whatever that may be.
Ymitoth explained the best path for Maelich to take and warned him not to camp on the river. Grongs sometimes come out at night to water themselves by the river and Maelich would want to be fresh for his meeting with Ahm. Brawling with brutes would do nothing to help his campaign. There was one good thing about the grongs. They had a taste for amatilazo and hunted them frequently.
“If ye be staying true to the course I be laying out for ye and not dawdling, ye should be reaching an old oak what’s had its insides hollowed out. It ain’t a dead thing though, like ye might be thinking, but she be alive and enchanted, if ye be believing any of them stories what be told about the ancient thing. Ye can be camping there, sleeping right inside that magical thing. Travelers of old been having stories about how that old tree kept them safe in their slumbers. I ain’t heard nothing would make me believe them stories not to be true.” Ymitoth seemed a bundle of nerves as he rattled off instructions to Maelich.
Maelich replied with a wide grin, amused at his mentor’s concern, “I have been trained by the greatest swordsman in all the land. I expect to be exceptionally hard to kill.”
“Aye, have a laugh at the bumbling old oaf if it suits ye, but pay heed to me words, lad. Only be traveling by the light of the moon. Catch your sleep in the early hours of the sun, that be the best way if ye be hoping to conquer Galgooth’s Pass alone. Keep a steady pace, and ye’ll be hitting that tree by sunrise. Rest your bones until midday, and ye’ll be reaching Maomnosett by the wee darkest hours of night. That’ll be your best time to strike.”
Maelich’s expression sobered as he embraced Ymitoth. He squeezed him tight once and whispered, “Thank you, father. I will not fail you.”
Descending Mount Elzkahon was more than a chore. The moon was far too low in sky to offer much assistance. On top of that, the path was steep, covered in loose dirt and gravel. Luckily, Maelich was traveling light and, despite slipping and earning a good scare a handful of times, had a relatively easy go of it.
As Maelich made his way down the path, sliding more often than walking down the exceptionally steep spots, he tried to imagine how the path could ever have been used as a trade route. Even in the brightest hours of daylight, there was no way any man or dwarf could tackle the precarious trail loaded down with goods and supplies. The longer road around the east edge of Mount Elzkahon must be the route they used. It was a significantly longer distance, but Maelich knew of no horse that could easily make this climb with a rider much less hauling a full carriage. The only souls who could possibly find a use for this trail would be hunters or travelers, and those couldn’t be hunting anything very large or traveling very far.
Maelich heard the river before he could see it, a heavy current coursing through light rapids, fast moving water slapping against rock. After snaking its way down the side of the mountain, his trail flattened out and wound around trees and heavy underbrush. By this point, the moon had risen high enough in the dark sky to aid him slightly, if only just enough to keep him from tripping over gnarly roots jutting here and there out of the ground. His trip thus far had been surprisingly uneventful. Prior to reaching the river, the most exciting thing that happened was a trip and near fall over a large rock in the middle of his path. That was it. As he crossed the river he did notice a small mob of shapes moving along the banks. Probably grongs, he thought. They would be a good test, but he decided to take Ymitoth’s advice and hurry along rather than have a go at them. They obviously hadn’t seen him or they’d be moving on him quickly, roaring and growling and gnashing their teeth, scaly bastards. He’d save them for another time.
Ymitoth had been right about the tree, a mighty oak a few miles up the hill from the river with the trunk hollowed out. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon and Maelich was ready for a bit of sleep. He couldn’t tell if it was the lack of sleep or just the odd lighting right at sunrise, but the tree seemed to be glowing or sparkling. It was difficult to say which. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks because Ymitoth had suggested the tree was enchanted, but it did seem to have its own life force. There was also the fact that the trunk was completely hollow. The tree should have been quite dead, yet it wasn’t. In fact, it was quite the opposite, lush and green and full of life. Whatever the case might have been, it was a fine place to get some much-needed rest.
Inside the great oak was a vast room much bigger than seemed possible when examining the tree from the outside. The oddity of the thing barely troubled Maelich at all as he found a nice cozy spot at the back of the room. Sleep came easily. He was quite weary from traveling all night without any rest. Even the excitement of his challenge was no match for his heavy eyelids. His slumber was disturbed by nothing, not even dreams.
He awoke a bit before midday, perfect timing. He hit the trail again. The way up Mount Elbahor was much easier than the way down Mount Elzkahon had been. That was good. He made good time and, judging from the distance ahead of him, would arrive right on schedule. He noticed that trees had starting popping up here and there as soon as he had passed the river. They grew thicker as he gained altitude. In fact, by the time he made half the distance from base to peak, a full-fledged forest of pine surrounded him. His thoughts drifted back to the Sobbing Forest. How could those trees that had seemed so fond of him be evil. Why would they help him? Had it all been a trick, and why? He couldn’t spare too much thought on it. There was more pressing business at hand. His pace quickened as he continued into the thickening pines.
Night had completely fallen when Maelich began to see lights from the city of Maomnosett up ahead. He looked to the sky and reckoned himself to be just a few hours earlier than planned. It wasn’t quite midnight yet. That was okay. He would wait. He stepped off the path, sat against a sturdy pine, and snacked on some dried tubberslat Ymitoth had packed for him. He would need all his energy in case his plan didn’t go as smoothly as he wished. Ahm wo
uld be his greatest challenge yet. Ymitoth had suggested Ahm stood at least fifteen feet tall. Maelich glanced up at a towering tree across the path trying to gauge how high up the thing the giant’s head would reach. Fifteen feet was more than double Maelich’s height plus half again. He could scarcely imagine how the beast must look.
Roughly two hours had passed when Maelich decided he had waited long enough. The torchlights of the city had dimmed, and it looked as if Maomnosett’s population of dwarves was fast asleep. Even still, he stuck close to the edge of the path, clinging to the shadows. As he approached the gates of the city, he could barely make out two shapes that appeared to be standing guard before the tallest pine he had ever seen in his entire life. There may have been another shape against the tree but he couldn’t be sure. As he neared the spot, he realized there were two shapes against the tree. One was chained to it and the other hugging it. The air suddenly seemed heavy, saturated with despair. He could cling to the shadows and slip around the group completely unnoticed, but something deep in his gut wouldn’t let him. After a brief struggle with his logical side, emotion won the day. Whatever calamity had dumped the sad group into their current state, he aimed to fix it for them.
Outside of the warm, orange glow of the torches that remained lit, the darkness was a black void. Maelich used that to his advantage. The dwarves neither saw nor heard him until he was upon them. Before he spoke to them he noted that all four of them were sniffling, the ghost of a good cry lingering among them. The sadness of the two against the tree seemed quite reasonable, but the other two were obviously guards. It seemed odd that two warriors, especially gruff dwarves, would shed tears for the sake of a prisoner. Perhaps an alliance with some unhappy dwarves would prove more useful than the element of surprise he would most certainly not get with this unhappy party going on right at the gates of the keep he intended to storm.
Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1) Page 9