Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  “This be about all ye’ll be having time for,” Ymitoth said as he offered Maelich some fruit and bread along with a cup of water.

  Ymitoth had laid out the same princely garments Maelich had worn when he addressed the former king. Maelich rather liked the outfit. Scraping off the dirt and getting a little shined up didn’t trouble him as much as it did his father. Sadly, the garments would not be accompanying him on his journey. As he dressed, Ymitoth prattled on nervously, like any father would, about what the ceremony would entail. Maelich could barely keep up with him as he rapidly fired off instructions about everything from what Maelich should say to how he should carry himself.

  Maelich finally interrupted his concerned father’s rant, “Father, please, slow down. I have never seen you so nervous. It’s as if you’re the one earning a crest today.”

  A brief look of frustration twisted up the corners of Ymitoth’s mouth before fleeing to make way for a proud smile. Then he crossed the room, grabbed Maelich by the shoulders, held him at arm’s length, and said, “Aye, I be nervous as a mouse tiptoeing beneath a sleeping horny witch. Ye ain’t born of me seed, but ye be me son. I ain’t never been prouder of nothing in me whole life.” He took a long step back and added, “Look at ye. Today I be hanging that crest about your neck and calling ye a man.”

  Maelich’s eyes grew warm as he lost a brief battle with a tear. It quickly raced down his cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. He wanted it there. It was all too overwhelming. The words wouldn’t come. That tear was the only response he could muster for his proud father, and he wanted to him to have it. For Maelich, it represented his appreciation for all Ymitoth had done. As stern and serious as the man had been throughout his training, everything Maelich had become was because of him.

  Once Maelich was dressed and had eaten, the entire group strolled out into the hall to make their way down to the courtyard. Maelich remained cool. Ymitoth had taught him to keep a level head no matter the situation. As Ymitoth nervously twitched and bantered, Maelich couldn’t help but feel his instructor hadn’t paid enough attention to his own teaching.

  “Maelich, I ain’t the words to be telling ye how important this day be,” Ymitoth gushed. “All the greatest warriors since the beginning of days been wearing that crest ye’ll be getting on this day.” He held up his own crest and added, “Ye’ll be hard pressed to be finding any man who’ll be wanting a duel with ye when ye be wearing this symbol.”

  As desperately as Maelich wanted to laugh at his unshakeable mentor’s blatant loss of control, he held it in. This day was as much for Ymitoth as it was for him. He wanted him to revel in it, and remember it fondly for all his days. Instead of poking fun, he said, “I will wear my crest with pride, and it will remind me that I would never be the man I am if not for all you have taught me whenever I look upon it.”

  Now Ymitoth lost a tear. Then he gave Maelich a shove and said, “Ye should be saving that drivel for after the ceremony. Them folks what be wanting to see their king pin the great city of Havenstahl’s crest on their newest hero ain’t wanting to see that king blubbering like a damn fool.”

  Maelich nodded and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the walk. It wasn’t long before Ymitoth got back to gushing about the importance of the day. Even Perrin and Jom, following closely behind, seemed giddy with excitement.

  Just before the group reached the trellis, they were met by Perrin’s new family. She ran to Haleen and nearly shouted, “Mama!”

  Wearing a smile Maelich assumed only a mother could muster, Haleen embraced the girl. Then she looked up at Maelich and asked, “Well, would this be the Maelich what we been hearing so much about?”

  Perrin’s excitement, and the ease with which Haleen held the girl, like they had been mother and daughter for Perrin’s entire life seemed so natural. The small gesture, which no one else probably noticed, almost completely erased all Maelich’s concerns about how Perrin would handle him leaving her behind. Genuine happiness settled on his face in the form of probably the most honest smile he had ever worn. As was customary, Maelich offered his hand to Kendal when he replied, “That would be me.”

  “We must be thanking ye for bringing this beauty safely to us from the peril what befell her village,” Kendal said with a nod. “Aye lad, ye be a true hero and well deserving of that crest they be pinning to ye today.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Maelich smiled. “I trust you’ll be taking good care of this beautiful lass then? We’ve been through quite a bit in the short time we’ve had together and I fancy her to be one of my own.”

  “Aye,” Haleen piped up. “Kallum ain’t seen fit to be blessing us with no child of our own. We been begging him for one since the day Kendal stole away me heart. This little ray of light be filling that empty space. Ye can count on her being more than well cared for.”

  Haleen took Perrin’s hand and Perrin took Maelich’s as Kendal put an arm around his shoulder. Maelich decided he liked these people. Perrin seemed pleased with them, and Ymitoth felt they would make suitable parents for her. Ymitoth had always seemed an excellent judge of situations. He had to assume his mentor was at least as good a judge of character. As difficult as it would be to leave the youngster—aside from Ymitoth, she was the closest thing he had to a family member—at least he wouldn’t have to worry over her care.

  Maelich glanced around at the faces surrounding him before settling on Perrin’s. Her eyes had changed. The fear he remembered from their first encounter had been replaced by something resembling hope. She had a new family to love and protect her, and she seemed to finally be at peace with her world. He couldn’t tell if she hadn’t dealt with his departure yet or if the comfort of her new family was softening the blow. Either way, she no longer seemed concerned he was leaving. That was okay. A little bit of sadness about being so easily replaced was worth the knowledge she’d be able to enjoy a more normal life than what a hungry pack of amatilazo had left her with.

  Maelich had become so distracted with thoughts of Perrin’s future and fretting over whether she would miss him that he nearly walked right into Ymitoth when the new king stopped the group in between two matching sets of giant wooden doors. Each of the four doors sported a detailed carving of Havenstahl’s grand emblem, the same emblem depicted on the crest Maelich would receive momentarily. Before he could comment, everything flooded in. Two sets of doors on either side of him led to different futures for everyone who meant anything to him. The doors to his right opened to Havenstahl’s, now Ymitoth’s, throne room. He could scarcely imagine the gritty warrior who taught him to hunt, swing steel, and be a man feeling comfortable trapped in any room, much less one filled with lines of people hoping to bend his ear. How would he manage?

  The doors to Maelich’s left stood open as well, but these poured out onto the courtyard and new beginnings for the rest of his group. Perrin had her new parents, and they—beaming like young parents catching their first glimpse of their newborn—finally had an answer to their lifetimes of prayer. Maelich’s journey led through that same set of heavy wooden doors, but his path continued far past them, the courtyard, well beyond the gates of Havenstahl, even further still beyond the villages dotting the rolling prairies gently sloping away from Mount Elzkahon. He suddenly felt homesick. The journey before him was a lonely one, and he didn’t even know how long it would take. When would he return? Would anybody even remember him?

  Perrin’s arms squeezing tightly around his waist kept Maelich from traipsing too far down the path to hopelessness. Maelich knelt beside her and gave her a squeeze, “I expect I’ll miss you most of all.”

  “Aye,” she agreed, her voice muffled into his shoulder, “ye’ll be missing me, and I’ll be missing ye. And ye’ll be coming back to me with more stories about all your adventures.”

  Maelich chuckled, “Hopefully, you’ll have some adventures to share with me then too.”

  Ymitoth patted Maelich on the back. “Time to be getting to it, lad,” he said.

&nb
sp; Maelich stood and faced the king as Kendal gathered up Perrin and strolled out of the palace with her and Haleen. Loneliness crept back in as one member of his family left with her new family and the other looked on with proud, if just a little bit sad, eyes. Maelich’s lips began moving before he could properly arrange his thoughts. “I killed a giant,” was all he could come up with.

  Ymitoth smiled, grabbed hold of his arms, and said, “Aye, ye did. Ain’t no other man in the history of men can be making that boast,” after a brief pause, he cocked his head slightly and asked, “So, why on Ouloos be this hero among men looking at me with something akin to fear in his eyes?”

  “What if I’m not as great as you think I am?” Maelich’s eyes shot to the ground as he shrugged. “What if I was lucky? You said yourself, Ahm’s downfall was his pride. What if I was just the lucky recipient of a gift from a boastful giant?”

  Ymitoth sighed deeply as a tear worked its way to the edge of his eyelid, “Well, there ye be going, ain’t ye? Ye ain’t to be finding happiness until ye have me blubbering like a damn fool. Forget that giant for just a moment and be listening to these words of mine good. I ain’t no poet, so don’t expect nothing pretty, but ye know I be honest as they come. I’ll tell ye lad, all the pride what be swelling up me chest today been there long before ye’d been trading blows with that monster up in Alhouim. I know we ain’t sharing no blood, but ye be the only son I’ve ever known. And I be proud to be calling ye that to any who be asking. Ye ain’t never let fear be stopping ye from doing what be right. Ain’t another sword in all the land, any land I’ve ever been, I’d rather be marching off to battle with.” The tear perched on the king’s eyelid finally spilled over and ran down his cheek, as he pointed at Maelich’s heart and added, “What I truly be proud of though, is what be in here. All of what ye do, all them things ye done what made me so proud, ain’t even what I truly be proud of when I look at ye. What ye got in there, in that heart, is what I truly be proud of. Ye ain’t done it for spite or revenge, maybe glory a time or two, but all what ye do be in the service of others. Ye be the kind of man I be wanting to be. Ye ain’t lucky, son. Ye worked hard, and ye be doing what’s right. Ye be a true hero.”

  Maelich lost a tear of his own as he embraced his father. As good as it felt to hear those words come from Ymitoth’s lips, it didn’t make the prospect of leaving any easier. Things had been different. In the brief time they’d had together since he arrived in Havenstahl, the stern mentor who had raised him was finally opening up to him. At least he could carry it with him on the trail.

  Maelich wasn’t quite ready for the embrace to end. It seemed he had a lifetime to make up for with his father. However, when Ymitoth pushed him back to arm’s-length and looked on him with the eyes of a proud father once again, he knew it had to be. His journey was just beginning, and there were throngs of people waiting in the hot sun to watch him receive his crest. It was time for duty. It was time to be a man.

  By the time Ymitoth asked, “Be ye ready to have that crest pinned on your chest and become a true warrior of the greatest city of men?” Maelich was ready.

  The two men stepped through the doorway onto an open veranda that spread forth in a half circle from the palace. Its floor consisted of alternating tiles of fine polished stone and precious prang surrounded on the edges by a carefully carved, decorative border. An ornamental, prang fence surrounding the veranda glistened in the sun, glowing like a rich sunset over a dark forest. The fence stopped short of the wall on either side to make way for twin stairways curving fifteen feet a piece down to another half-circle platform made of the same stuff as the veranda above. From there, steps forming concentric half circles poured down another fifteen feet into a courtyard full of people eager to lay eyes on the killer of giants. At the center of the group was a fountain boasting a massive polished-stone statue of Eringaal, the first king and founder of the house of Havenstahl.

  Maelich’s chest swelled as he and Ymitoth made it to the center of the veranda. The crowd in the courtyard below erupted in a cheer like nothing he’d ever heard before. He glanced up at Ymitoth and asked, “Is that all for me?”

  “Aye, lad,” Ymitoth chuckled, “What did ye think I’d been meaning when I said, ‘Hero’? Ye be that to these people, and to me.”

  Both men waved to the crowd whose cheering, as impossible as it seemed, increased in volume. After a few moments, both men turned and took one step away from each other, paused, and then turned a half-circle so they were facing each other once again. A few more moments passed before they drew their swords in unison, touching them first to the ground, then to their shoulders, and then to each other’s blades. Again, they turned away from each other, this time making their way down separate stairways to the landing below. Once they met again, they went through the same motions they had on the veranda.

  Standing in the hot sun with sword aloft, the slight breeze that picked up and gently tugged Maelich’s golden hair away from his face was a blessing. It cooled the bit of sweat beading up on his forehead. He sighed with relief when he counted off the final beat in his head and sheathed his sword as Ymitoth did the same. Maelich dropped to one knee and looked up at Ymitoth who reached into his robe and produced a shimmering prang medallion, the sacred crest of Havenstahl. Another cheer blasted from the crowd. Then the newest hero of Havenstahl had that crest pinned to the breast of his robe by the new king of the greatest city of men.

  Ymitoth pulled Maelich back to his feet, turned him toward the crowd, and shouted, “I give ye, Maelich, warrior, protector, and keeper of Havenstahl. He will bear this crest as a champion of the people!”

  The crowd erupted and poured up the steps to the landing, gathering Maelich up as they sung praises to his name. Perrin and the rest from up on the veranda came down and did the same. It was difficult for Maelich to not feel at least as great as Ymitoth said he was. He was hugged, he was kissed, and he was patted on the back. The latter of the three sent little shocks of pain through his shoulder. He didn’t think anyone noticed and figured it wouldn’t matter to them if they did.

  After a time, Ymitoth made his way back up to the veranda and called the crowd to attention. “People of Havenstahl,” he began, “ye be welcome to join us for a feast to honor our new soldier. Please convene to the throne room.”

  With that several guards moved into the crowd and began directed people up the steps to the veranda and into the palace. In the throne room table after table had been set and a feast like Havenstahl hadn’t hosted in ten summers had been spread. Savory scents saturated the air, mingling with laughter, shouting, and praises in Maelich’s name from the crowd.

  Maelich found himself off to the side, a bystander half in the moment and half somewhere far away on a journey yet unseen. Everything was so much different than it had been barely more than a week prior. He’d hardly time to process anything.

  “What ye be thinking about?” Perrin pulled him from his trance.

  “Oh, nothing,” he replied with a forced laugh that was painfully fake.

  Perrin’s big eyes stared back at him, all bright and blue and full of questions. She obviously wasn’t going to let him off the hook without having an answer. Despite having only five summers under her belt, recent events in her life had seemed to wisen her well beyond her years.

  “Oh, alright,” he grudgingly gave in, “it’s just that sometimes this feels like someone else’s life. I feel like all my decisions have been made for me, and this is all just a game for me to play through. Though I don’t know the outcome, it has already been decided.”

  Perrin seemed thoughtful for a moment and asked, “What if ye don’t be doing what ye’re supposed to?”

  Maelich rolled his eyes and began to retort, but paused, “I ca…” He had never really thought about it. “I don’t know. What if I didn’t?” he asked instead.

  Throughout his entire life, he had always done what he was told. Through his training and his challenges, it never occurred to him he had
a choice. Life had always been just what it was. It was precisely how it was supposed to be. Fate is fate. You can’t change fate. He was destined to be the hero. What if one day he decided not to be that?

  As Maelich worked through this new, deep thought Perrin had given him to ponder, a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder. Ymitoth’s voice followed it, “Maelich, have a bit of tubberslat. Ye can’t be challenging no trail on a great quest without first filling your belly.”

  Ymitoth’s proud eyes chased all Maelich’s questions away. “Yes,” Maelich replied, “I suppose my belly should be full.”

  Maelich followed Ymitoth to a gaudily-decorated table at the front of the throne room. He managed to quiet his questioning mind long enough to enjoy some food and light conversation with his tablemates. Besides Ymitoth, Perrin, her new family, and four of Ymitoth’s most trusted guards shared the table of honor with him.

  The celebration was a wonderful, however brief, distraction for Maelich. As fate would have it, there was enough light for him to get a few hours of travel in before he would have to make camp for his first night on the trail. Since a few of Ymitoth’s servants had forgone the feast to pack for their new hero, Maelich was trail-ready as soon as he finished eating. He counted this a blessing. It helped foster the illusion of a great need for haste. A long good-bye would only make leaving all the more difficult.

  By the time Maelich made it back out to the courtyard, Validus was packed up and ready for travel. After a quick check of his horse sacks, he figured both he and Jom would remain fed for two to three weeks. The give or take would depend entirely on their appetites and his own self-discipline. Even if they gorged themselves at half their meals, by the time they worked through their supplies they would be well into territory that boasted ample game for hunting. From that point on, he would have to keep them fed.