Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  The journey from Druindahl to Havenstahl would take more than two months at a normal pace with proper stops. She had no idea how or why she knew that. Kaldumahn had told her she would know the way. Perhaps he was guiding her. Regardless why she knew, she figured it could be cut down to a little better than a week. She and Purity had been trained to be rugged travelers, conditioned to travel light on minimal food and function quite effectively on little sleep. They would rest infrequently and own this trail.

  The time raced by with the changing scenery. Hills gave way to flat, grassy prairies which gave way to dry, arid lands. Those, in turn, gave way to hills once again. Purity attacked the trail, devouring it like a starving man setting upon the first meal he’s had in a week.

  The two would bed down when the moon was at its highest point and would rise before the sun. They built no fires. They ate dry food, and they ate very little, rationing what they had. Purity had an affinity for finding water, so their canteens were always full. Water was something they didn’t ration.

  Just after midday on the eighth day of their journey, the towers of Havenstahl came into view. They scratched at the sky from a mountaintop, stretching higher than anything Cialia had ever seen. Though she’d never seen the place, or even heard a description of it, she knew it was her destination. That’s where her father was being held. She knew the river they’d been following since the prior day was the River Galgooth, and she knew it would lead them around the north side of Mount Elzkahon in the valley between it and its twin peak, Mount Elbahor. All of it must have come from Kaldumahn. None of those were words she’d even known prior to seeing the place. As she looked up at the mighty castle perched high in the clouds, she also knew how she’d get in. They stopped on the riverbank to wait for nightfall.

  Once the sun had fallen for the day, Cialia mounted Purity and got back to the trail. The pace was slower now, cautious. They passed several abandoned encampments along the way. Grongs, she’d never seen one, but they fit descriptions father had given her far too closely to be anything but. Considering the beasts were nomadic, the presence of camps didn’t necessarily mean any were in the area. Still, she remained acutely aware of every sound and smell around her. Purity seemed equally wary as they moved slowly along the riverbank.

  The bright moon had reached its apex by the time they reached the base of Mount Elbahor. They crossed the river and Cialia dismounted Purity. She didn’t bother tying the horse. Purity was a faithful steed who would only run off to protect herself. If need arose for the horse to flee, Cialia certainly didn’t want to hinder the effort. Purity found a spot in a thicket to bed down, and Cialia started up the steep path up the side of the mountain to the city.

  She moved silently up the trail until the gates were in sight. Then she left it, scaling the rest of Mount Elzkahon to the wall of the city. Remaining close to the wall, she reached the gate without making a sound. Once she reached the gate, she held her breath and listened. Two distinct breathing patterns reached her ears from the other side. Scaling the wall, she perched atop it and beheld her prey.

  Two guards stood silently at ease, both casually scanning the area. Neither looked ready for much more than a nap. There was never much action by the north gate. Even if Cialia wasn’t somehow aware of it, the fact was easily enough deduced. She had just climbed the only route to the north entrance to the city, and it wasn’t an easy one. Sneaking into the city unnoticed would be the only good reason to use the north gate during the dark hours of night. Based on the casual boredom of the two guards, there hadn’t been many attempts.

  Cialia scanned the area searching for a path which might allow her to avoid the guards. Spilling blood was something she hoped to avoid. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. The area inside the gate had been designed quite well. The wall she perched upon, along with the one on the other side of the gate, both ended after ten feet and merged with the walls of the palace. Though they were made of brick, there were no obvious hand or footholds. As good a climber as she was, she’d never be able to scale them.

  The thought of what she had to do had barely formed by the time the dagger was out of its small scabbard and effortlessly slicing through the air. A moment later, the handle of it was jutting from one of the guard’s throats. Cilia wasn’t sure how she felt about it as she watched the man tug at the thing, gurgling and kicking his legs in panic. The other guard moved quickly to assist. He scanned around as he tried to help his comrade pull the blade out.

  As the two guards struggled, one bleeding to death while the other failed to help, Cialia leapt from her perch. By the time the second guard had managed to free the blade from his friend’s neck, Cialia’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Her left hand pressed against his forehead and pulled it back, while her right hand dragged her other dagger across his throat. She released her grip, and both guards fell.

  Two sets of eyes stared up at her from expressions frozen in terror and confusion. They accused her, and she was guilty. The dead guards represented the first lives she had taken. At least, they were the first men she had ever killed. Father had taken her on many hunts. However, killing a man is different than taking down a fallon, a rabbit, or a dove for food. A dark and heavy weight rested on her soul. There wasn’t much in her gut after her journey, but, for just a moment, she thought she might spill its meager contents all over the stone beneath her feet. If only there were someone to tell her she was justified in what she had done. Of course, there wasn’t. She was alone staring down at her first kills.

  She stood there staring at death far too long. She kept everything in her belly where it belonged, but it wasn’t easy. Though she failed to completely justify her own actions to herself, she at least achieved some acceptance of it. Given the opportunity, they would have done the same to her, maybe worse. They may have killed her slowly and painfully. At least she had blessed them with quick deaths. If stories of the folk who inhabited the greatest cities of men were true, they would have seen her crest and punished her for serving the Dragon. It would not have been quick nor painless. Finally, she drew in a deep, slow breath, calmed herself, retrieved her daggers, and slipped silently into the palace.

  Like a ghost in the shadows, Cialia crept along the halls of the palace. There were guards about. Occasionally, she’d hear their voices and pause to let them pass, but she never paused long. There was no time to dawdle. Before long, the dead guards at the north gate would be discovered, and the rest of Havenstahl’s army would be looking for her. By the time that happened, she and her father needed to be far from the castle and the great peak it crowned.

  She came to a circular stairway leading up. It was the way. Just as it had been for the rest of her journey, she didn’t know how she knew it. She just did. Up and up into darkness, she passed nine floors before hearing more voices.

  “So, what do ye make of this dragon warrior they got in there?” a gruff, whisper of a voice asked.

  “I don’t be knowing,” another equally gruff whisper answered. “All I be knowing is this. If the worm be trying to escape, I’ll be having his head.”

  The brief conversation was followed with a bit of low, muffled laughter. Cialia heard enough to know she’d found her destination. Slipping both daggers out of their scabbards, she charged the rest of the way up the stairs to the next floor.

  Both guards nearly jumped out of their skins when Cialia rounded the corner. They clumsily fumbled for their swords. She didn’t give them a chance to draw. Flicking both of her wrists at once, she fired her daggers. A moment later, the guards were falling, both sporting daggers in the centers of their foreheads. Their armor clanged as it hit the hard stone. That would attract attention. More guards would be coming. She couldn’t worry about that. She grabbed her daggers as she slipped past them and into the room they’d been guarding.

  The room was dark, but enough moonlight filtered through a small crack in the draperies covering the window at the other side of the room to allow Cialia to see a shape lyin
g on the bed. Though she couldn’t tell much more than it was a person lying there, based on what she could see, she knew it was father. She rushed over and shook him gently.

  “Father,” she whispered quietly in his ear, “you must wake, quickly. We must leave this place. More guards will be coming.”

  When Daritus’ eyes finally opened, they were full of confusion. He must have been deep in slumber. After blinking several times at her, he finally replied, “Cialia, is that you? What are you doing here? This is no place for you.”

  She whispered quietly but quickly, “Kaldumahn came to me in a dream. He came as a silver beast. He said he was…” she paused, “Never mind that right now. I’ll explain later. We need to leave this place.”

  “And who might ye be?” a voice asked from the darkness, bold and deep. “Perhaps ye be a ghost or a demon, slipping into me palace to be stealing me prisoner away.”

  Suddenly a torch blazed, and the room filled with light. Cialia spun to see a massive man bearing an ornate crown. The prang shimmered in the torchlight as the jewels encrusted on it twisted the light and splashed rainbows of color all about the walls. Cialia had never seen the man before, but she knew him immediately.

  “Ymitoth,” she shouted, her voice much louder than intended.

  Ymitoth looked dumbfounded, like she had hit him with a club. He replied, “Maelich?”

  “Who is Maelich?” the name was familiar, but she didn’t know why. It was something, but…

  Confusion spread across Ymitoth’s face as he stammered before her. His mouth moved as if more words would come, but nothing did. Then he squinted, as if pleading with her, and finally gasped, “Maelich?” before falling in a heap on the floor.

  A small part of her thought to rouse him and ask him all the questions swimming around her head. Why did he call her that name? Why did she know that name? How did she recognize him when there was no way she possibly could?

  Luckily, Daritus whispered, “Go!” into her ear before she could act on the idea and risk both their skins.

  Instead of acting on the impulse and rousing the great warrior to get answers, she did as her father commanded. Looking back several times along the way to ensure Daritus was close on her heels, she retraced her steps until they reached the bottom of the great, circular stairway.

  “We can’t use the north gate,” she stammered, out of breath, “You’ll need a horse, and a horse will never make it down the northern trail.”

  “I kept slipping in and out of consciousness when they brought me in, but I think I can find my way back to the stables,” he replied, equally out of breath, then added, “Where should we meet? I am unfamiliar with the area, just bits and pieces.”

  Cialia’s head was shaking before he finished, “There is no way I’m leaving your side, father. You’re unarmed and weak from your incarceration.”

  “It was hardly an incarceration,” he rolled his eyes. “They actually treated me quite well. It was Kaldumahn who misused me. I managed to rouse his ire. The folks of Havenstahl actually saved my life.”

  He wasn’t making any sense. Cialia decided he was probably delirious from a lack of nutrition. She put her finger to her lips and said, “Later. We can talk later. For now, we need to get out of this place.”

  “I don’t remember which way to go,” Daritus replied. “If we can’t go the way you came in, how will we find our way out?”

  Cialia smiled, “I know the way. Don’t ask me how right now. There isn’t time. Somehow, I just know.

  As they snuck around the courtyard sticking to the shadows, troops were forming up at its center. The bodies of the dead guards at the north gate must have been discovered. That would help. The stables were closer to the south gate than the courtyard. Cialia couldn’t have planned it better, had she planned it. By the time she and Daritus reached the stables, there wasn’t a soul in sight. They snatched two horses and were off, charging toward the massive southern gate.

  Daritus looked over at her and shouted above the sound of hooves pounding against stone, “The bridge is up. We aren’t making it out of here. I’ll need a sword.”

  Cialia ignored him. She was already working on the solution, scanning the wall that encased the drawbridge. There it was, a large spindle with handles and a brake. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow. The rest of the world slipped away as her focus intensified on her mark. A deep breath filled her lungs. She first released the breath slowly and then loosed the arrow.

  Cialia’s aim proved true. Her arrow struck the brake and sent the gear spinning like mad. The bridge crashed down with a thunderous boom. Cracks formed all about it as it nearly collapsed under the pressure of itself. It creaked and groaned under the weight of the horses as they charged across. Chunks of the heavy thing began to fall away, careening into the deep abyss below them. The entire construct moaned as if in agony, desperately trying to hold on.

  As the bridge fell apart beneath them, instincts took over. Cialia kicked her heels into her horse’s sides. At the precise moment she’d done it, she caught her father do the same thing. Even with all the excitement and adrenaline pumping through her veins, she managed to grin at it. Even though they shared no blood, he could never deny her. She was just like him.

  Both horses jumped off the bridge immediately when they’d been kicked. A second later and all four of them, Cialia, Daritus, and both horses, would have plummeted to the rocky river far below. Instead, they reached the other side, hooves tearing into the hard-packed dirt of the trail. Charging past the handful of guards posted on that side of the chasm, they galloped off into the night.

  The night ride didn’t let up until they were safe into the valley and had made it back round the River Galgooth. At that point, Cialia drew back hard on her horse’s reins and called out to Daritus, “Hold, father.”

  Daritus smiled back at her as he obeyed the command.

  Cialia, jumped off her horse, turned it back toward the city, and gave it a firm slap on the backside. As the horse charged back toward the city, she turned and gave a short, sharp whistle across the river. Moments later, Purity trotted out from the darkness.

  “I’m proud of you, Cialia,” Daritus finally broke the silence.

  Cialia feigned coolness but felt her cheeks redden as she asked, “For what?”

  “You never broke, never wavered. You are a true warrior, and I am proud of you,” even if he hadn’t said all those things, she would have known how he felt. His expression echoed his words and even more.

  “Just putting my training to good work, father,” she smiled.

  Daritus rolled his eyes, “And she’s humble to boot.”

  Cialia finally let her expression melt. She was proud too, “Let’s go home, father.”

  Chapter 18

  The Beginning

  The cave yawned foreboding darkness, as if it were the very mouth of Ouloos waiting to swallow Maelich whole. It almost seemed to be quivering, yearning to slam shut on some tasty morsel. Of course, it wasn’t really yawning or desiring anything. It wasn’t more than a big hole in big chunk of rock leading down into the belly of the mountain. Perhaps the thing only seemed so ominous because of the vile thing who lived inside all that darkness.

  After wandering about the gardens for who knows how long—time didn’t matter much on the mountaintop—Maelich’s ire at the old wizard had faded. Initially, he wanted nothing more than to reduce Brerto to ash for what the old bastard had done to Jom, and for nothing more than sport. Jom had died that most horrible of deaths simply so some curmudgeonly, old man could prove a point. Even that fact failed to raise Maelich’s hackles. It all seemed so long ago, like it happened in a different lifetime. Perhaps he had given up, or maybe the garden had enchanted him sufficiently to remove all his cares. Whatever the case may have been, he couldn’t find the rage. The only way out was into that gaping darkness, so that’s where he went.

  The thing didn’t slam shut when he stepped into it. It was just a cave after all. However, rig
ht at that moment, he realized his clothes were gone. He was quite naked. Had he been naked the entire time he wandered the mountaintop? He must have been. His cloak must have been burned off when he found his flame. Naked was such a vulnerable state. He paused, maybe it wasn’t the right time. Of course, it was. What could he do, cover himself with leaves? The idea was silly. He was naked, and that was that. The great and mighty Brerto would just have to deal with it.

  As impossible as it seemed, the darkness of the cave seemed to become more and more pitch as Maelich progressed into its depths. He hadn’t been able to see anything since rounding a bend roughly twenty-five feet inside, but the darkness seemed darker somehow. It made about as much sense as an oasis surrounded in snow and biting cold.

  The ground was damp, even slick beneath Maelich’s feet. On top of that, the path was steep. However, the idea he might lose his footing never occurred to him. He hadn’t slipped at all as he strolled deeper into the darkness. At least his nakedness no longer seemed to matter. Aside from bare feet touching wet stone, he couldn’t even tell he was naked. The air probably should have felt increasingly cool on his skin, but it didn’t. He remained quite comfortable.

  Hours passed, or maybe not. He couldn’t really tell anymore. Time wasn’t making any more sense in the cavernous depths of Brerto’s cave than it had in his garden. Distance didn’t seem to matter much either. He had no idea how far he’d come and didn’t really care much. What did it matter? He had yet to arrive at his destination, and he wouldn’t until he did.

  The darkness wasn’t offering anything in the way of company. Darkness rarely did. Maelich figured the darkness cared about as much about him as he cared about it, hardly. It wasn’t hindering him at all, and he wasn’t hindering it. Unfortunately, since it couldn’t keep him company, he was stuck with own thoughts, trapped in his own head. Sadly, that place was unusually empty just then. It seemed the garden had stolen most of his thoughts and cares, and the cave was doing its best to finish erasing them completely. All he really had left were tidbits about Jom, and those were hard fought to retain. It would probably be easier just to let them go. He wasn’t quite ready to do that.