Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Her eyes red and puffy from tears, she said, “Stay with me.”

  Maelich looked at Kendal, and he at Haleen. She shrugged.

  “Ye don’t be having much time with each other,” Kendal began. “Ye might as well be spending the time ye do have together.”

  Ymitoth went to Maelich and hugged his son, “I’ll be seeing ye in the morning, son. We’ll be finishing our talk then.”

  “Good night, father,” Maelich replied.

  Ymitoth left the hut and went back to the palace alone, as he had been doing for years. Perhaps it was selfish, but he truly wanted to take all his son’s time for himself. He could never do that, of course. Perrin needed Maelich, and Maelich needed her.

  Back in the hut, Perrin and Maelich said their good-nights to Kendal and Haleen. Then Perrin led Maelich through the doorway next to the fireplace. That was her room. Kendal and Haleen climbed a ladder up to the loft above Perrin’s room and turned in as well. The hut was silent. Perrin’s dreams were in her arms.

  Chapter 20

  Drawn

  The first rays of the morning sun filtered in through cracks around the shutters covering the windows of Perrin’s room. They tugged at Maelich’s eyelids gently at first. As they gained in power their efforts became more forceful. He blinked and then squinted, giving just a moment to the dust lightly dancing about in them. He was a bit disoriented until he felt the warmth of Perrin snuggled tightly around him. He ran his hand through her hair and silently slipped out of her cot. He kissed her cheek and went to the great room.

  Haleen was already up. She sat at the table enjoying a hot cup of dragon tea. It was a favorite of hers. Making the morning tea was easily the highlight of her day, more so than even drinking it. She would boil a big pot of water with a tightly wound ball of freshly picked dragon blossom resting on the bottom. They say a watched pot never boils, but she didn’t care. She’d stare until the first bubbles began breaking the surface. Then she’d watch as the blossom rolled and bounced about. She called it the dance of the dragon. The ball would sway and dance, and the water would darken. Once it achieved a deep, greenish hue, it was ready. Sometimes she’d let it go longer than others. The longer it boiled, the deeper, darker, and stronger the tea would be. On this day, the tea was quite strong, filling the hut with a rich, earthly scent.

  Maelich looked upon her. Long, dark hair with just a hint of gray waved and curled down past her face and didn’t cease until reaching her waist. It was like perfectly-planned chaos. Though she wore every year she’d lived, there was a loveliness about her. Something in the shape of her face and the grace of her form harkened to a youthful beauty that still lingered.

  Haleen had become so wrapped in her morning tea, she hadn’t noticed Maelich staring at her. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment when she finally did notice him there in the doorway, gazing on her like a lover might.

  “I didn’t see ye standing there,” she said with a nervous smile.

  “I’m sorry,” Maelich began, slightly embarrassed himself, “I was trying to picture you at a younger age. Though your face carries the wise lines of a woman who knows and has seen much, there is a youthful softness about your face. I never knew my mother. Sadly, she took her own life. Worse, it was because of me that she did this. If ever I looked upon her face, I would have been much too young to recall. I have heard descriptions of her, and all say she was of unrivaled beauty. My awkward stare is to try and imagine what she might look like if she had not ended herself.”

  Haleen smiled, flattered more than embarrassed now. She reached for Maelich and pulled him down next to her, resting his head on her bosom and hugging him as a mother might, “Ye’ve a good heart, Maelich. There’s a pure honesty about ye that is much less than common in men your age. Thank ye for those flattering words. Ye make an old woman feel like a young lass. I am sorry ye can never feel the warmth of your mother’s touch. I also know that no one can ever take the place of a young man’s mother, but ye can always count on me if ye need the soft touch of a motherly type.”

  Maelich refused to cry. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh and, with misty eyes, fought those tears with all his might. He remained there in Haleen’s embrace for a long while. She gently stroked his head while she sang to him. Her soft voice was clear and soothing in his ear like the echo of a bell on the wind.

  My lad, sweet lad, lay down your heavy head

  My lad, sweet lad, forget the path ye’ve tread

  Relax in mother’s arms, let her soft caresses heal ye

  Relax in mother’s arms, let her soft caresses heal ye

  Though the road behind be dark and the road ahead be hard

  Never fear, for mother’s love will be there to keep guard

  When your journey be complete, and your task has been fulfilled

  Mother’s arms they will be waiting to keep your heart stilled.

  She finished her lullaby by gently kissing Maelich on the head. Still, he refused to cry. One tear managed to get past his defenses. That one tear quickly trickled down his cheek. Haleen’s song filled him with love, hope, joy, and sadness all at the same time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so content. If his own mother still graced the sweet face of Ouloos, she’d probably behave the exact same way. She didn’t, though, and, of course, she couldn’t. He would never hear his mother’s song, the sweet beauty of her voice. Thankfully, Haleen didn’t mind trying to fill that role for him. He remained there, wrapped in her motherly embrace until Kendal returned from his morning run.

  Kendal shot a confused look at Haleen, “Ye must really be fond of me wife’s tea, Maelich.”

  Maelich didn’t reply. He had fallen asleep. Haleen waved Kendal off, “The lad’s been without a mother his whole life. No one has ever held him or sang him to sleep. Can ye imagine what that must be like? I can’t. A father’s love is fine, but it be hard and strict. A young lad need be much more careful with his emotion around his father. A mother’s love be soft and comforting. He wasn’t trying to steal me heart, love. He was just wanting to feel that what everyone else takes for granted.”

  Kendal felt like an oaf, “Sorry, love. It is wrong for me to question your judgement. Ymitoth be about this morning. He be looking for the lad.” Then he looked on Maelich with a caring eye, “Funny, Haleen, he don’t look much like a savior cradled in your arms like that. He be looking more like a lost child, all scared and alone.”

  “He is,” she whispered as she continued to stroke Maelich’s head, “he is.”

  Just then, Perrin stumbled out of her room absently rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The sight of her mother embracing Maelich brought her quickly too attention. “What are ye doing with me love?” she asked, her voice almost a whine.

  “He’s to be part of our family, ain’t he?” Kendal began. “Your mother be mothering him.”

  “There’s a part of everyone that ever longs for the embrace of their mama,” Haleen spoke softly, her gaze fixed lovingly on Maelich, “Ye know this, Perrin. Maelich has never felt the warmth of a mother’s caress. His whole life he been caring for others. He been needing someone to care for him. Don’t fret, me sweet daughter. I don’t be meaning to steal him away.” She finished with a raised brow and an odd smirk.

  Perrin shrugged. The explanation made sense, but she wanted to be the one saving him. She poured herself some tea and sat down on the other side of him. She gently caressed his back as he slept. Haleen gave her a smile, then sang her lullaby again.

  Kendal let it go on as long as he could stand. It seemed cute, at first, but it quickly began turning his stomach. “Okay, okay,” he finally broke up the love fest. “His father be looking for him. They need some time to catch up before he be leaving again.”

  Haleen shot Kendal a frown as she gently nudged Maelich who woke with a start. In his disoriented and confused state, he looked more like a lad than a brawny, young man. Perrin couldn’t help but giggle at him as he nearly fell from the bench they all shared.

&nb
sp; Once Maelich regained his wits, his cheeks grew pink with embarrassment. He looked to Haleen, “Thank you,” he said, as he kissed her cheek. Then he turned and kissed Perrin, “And I’ve missed you since I woke this morning.”

  “Alright, Maelich,” Kendal broke in, “your father be looking for ye on this morn’. Ye’ve much to discuss before ye leave again. Ye’ll be needing some time alone.”

  Maelich said his good-byes and left to find Ymitoth. As he made his way down the street, people stopped to greet and touch him. They asked for blessings. They kissed his hands and face. Some knelt and bowed before him. They adored him. Hopefully, he would prove worthy of all their worship. His training had him feeling more confident than he ever had before, but his mind remained riddled with self-doubt. He knew the prophecy inside and out, but it didn’t say anything about what happened after his task was complete. He knew he would succeed. Of that there was no doubt. What would victory cost him? That was the question. The sight of Ymitoth on the trellis was a vision.

  Ymitoth called out, “Please be letting the prince make his way to the palace. He’ll be having blessings for ye all, but first I be needing an audience with me son.”

  The people made way at the king’s command. They threw blessings and well wishes on him as he passed. The faith they had in him was humbling. Even during his absence, while he trained all those years with Brerto, their adoration for him grew. They wanted to be near him, to touch him, to bask in his radiance. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand, he was proud. He felt honored to be held in such high esteem by so many. On the other hand, their gushing behavior toward him had him more than just a little embarrassed and unnerved. The pressure was massive. Sometimes, when he was all alone, that pressure felt like a weight teetering on his head threatening to topple and crush him at any moment. A sigh of relief slipped past his lips when he finally reached the steps up to the trellis.

  Ymitoth led Maelich to a small sitting room he hadn’t seen before. Given the brief periods of time he had spent in the castle at Havenstahl, finding a spot he’d never seen wasn’t at all surprising. This spot was one that might easily become his favorite. It was cozy and simple. The most notable feature was a fur rug in front of a fireplace. Aside from that, there wasn’t much of note. The only window sat opposite the fireplace. Between them, two simple wooden chairs faced the fireplace with a table between them.

  As if he were reading Maelich’s mind, Ymitoth commented with similar sentiment, “This has always been me favorite room in all of Havenstahl. Every other place in this palace be far too lavish for the likes of me. Most of it has me yearning for the hut where I raised ye during your early years. This place be reminding me of that place, cozy and simple. It makes for a good spot to hide out from all them who be wanting to tug on me ears.

  Maelich began first, “When last we spoke, father, you told me of a warrior maiden who had eyes like mine. What of her?”

  “No, Maelich,” Ymitoth began shaking his head, “not just the eyes, the whole face. She looked identical to ye, just softer and feminine. She be deadly, though. She killed four of me royal guards without a struggle. She slipped in silently, like a snake.”

  “Who was she?”

  “Daritus called her Cialia. I ain’t be knowing any more than that.”

  “What do you know of Druindahl?”

  Ymitoth thought for a moment as he stroked his beard, “That name sounds oddly familiar, Druindahl. I think that might be the lost city of the dragon. The myths talk about a city of men who be worshipping the dragon, vile wretches. After the great campaign, they fled into hiding. I always believed the city to be destroyed and abandoned. Those bearing the crest of the dragon are said to be nomads now. Lost tribes who be constantly wandering for fear of being found by men of truth. That’s what this Daritus be.”

  “I’ve dreamt of a place, father,” Maelich looked distant. “This place is deep in a forest at the edge of Ouloos, right at the border of where the maps don’t go. A forest lost to the race of men. At least, lost to men who fear and worship Kallum. In this forest is a great city suspended in the trees, hidden from those who don’t know of it.”

  Ymitoth scoffed, “Tis a myth, Maelich. If that place existed, we’d have stormed it and burnt it down by now.”

  “Ages have passed since the great campaign. How far east do adventurers travel anymore? Certainly not even past the Blood Mountains. That’s not even close to far enough to find a lost forest, The Lost Forest.”

  Ymitoth shook his head, “No.”

  Maelich pressed on, “In my dreams, a silver lion comes to me. His fur shines like the sun, brilliant. It is even too brilliant to look upon without shading your eyes. He speaks to me and tells me to follow him. He leads me to a forest. I’ve seen this city in the trees. I’ve seen this girl who has my face. She beckons me. I know not who she is or what fate she would have for me, but she does call. I’m drawn to this city. There are answers for me there. I fight it, but my instincts tell me to follow the call and find the city before I face the dragon.”

  “Maelich, the prophecy be clear. Ye are to face the dragon. Though I be greatly pleased at your presence in Havenstahl, even this little distraction has led ye off your course. Forget this imaginary lost city. Ye must face the dragon before all else.”

  Maelich gazed into the fire, “That is my plan, father, but it will be hard to convince myself to stay on course when the road forks before me. I know the book from front to back and back to front. I could recite it to you from memory. Yet I still have unanswered questions. I feel this place has answers, and the call is loud.”

  “Stay strong, son. I’ve always told ye this, don’t ever be wavering from your path.”

  The conversation lightened after that. Ymitoth did some story telling. The first was an account of the battle with Ahm’s sons. Loh left quietly after Ahm fell, grateful to be out from under his rule. His sons were not so grateful. They had been off to adventure, as young giants do. When word of their father’s demise reached them, they were infuriated, drunk with rage. Luckily for the house of Alhouim, the twin horns of Galgooth had been reinstalled shortly after Doentaat had taken the throne. During the great campaign the horns had been constructed to act as a beacon, a warning either from Alhouim to Havenstahl or from Havenstahl to Alhouim that dragons were attacking. When the horns blared, they could be heard for miles around. Each rested high atop a tower in their respective city.

  A group of scouts from Havenstahl spotted Aht and Ahn on their approach to Alhouim. They quickly warned Ymitoth and he ordered the horn of Havenstahl be blown for the first time in centuries. The sweet sound peeled through the air like thunder, and it wasn’t long before the horn of Alhouim answered the call. It was magnificent. Two armies, one of men and one of dwarves descended on the giants as one force approaching from two directions. They caught them in the great clearing between Havenstahl and Biggon’s Bay. A few lost their lives, but in the end the coalition of men and dwarves prevailed. It was a great day for both cities and further solidified the renewed relationship between them. It was also the last they heard of any giants.

  The two men talked the morning away. By midday they had mostly caught up with each other. The light conversation was a wonderful distraction, a brief respite from responsibility for them both. Unfortunately, duty called, as it often does. Ymitoth had the greatest city of men to lead, and Maelich had to head off to face the dragon and fulfill a prophecy written centuries before he was born. They decided to meet up with Perrin and her family for the midday, and Maelich’s last home-cooked meal before hitting the trail.

  By the time Maelich and Ymitoth made it back to Perrin’s Place, the sweet smell of roast tubberslat wafting out the windows was nearly strong and sumptuous enough to drag both men along by their nostrils. No words were necessary between them. Their dopey grins said it all. The royal cooks were okay. However, in Havenstahl, Haleen’s tubberslat had no rival. The two men jogged the last few feet to the hut.

 
; Ymitoth hadn’t even finished knocking when the door swung open. A smirking Kendal stood where it had been. “Well, look who be showing up right at mealtime,” he chuckled while waving them in.

  Once inside, Ymitoth asked in the humblest tone he could muster, “Would ye be having any room for two weary travelers?”

  Haleen laughed, “Two lazy oafs with weary tongues maybe. Of course, highness, ye always be welcome at our table. And this one,” she gazed lovingly at Maelich, “this one be promising to return as our son. Certainly, we can’t be turning him away.”

  Perrin rose and greeted them properly, planting a soft kiss on both, one cheek each. Then they took places at the table and enjoyed the best meal either of them had eaten in as long as they could remember. The mood was pleasant and the chatter lively. None of them seemed surprised after all the talking they had done in the past day and a half, they still had much to say.

  As the meal finally wound down, and all had stuffed as much into their mugs as they could without bursting, Ymitoth stood to make a proclamation. “Maelich should be getting to that trail with all haste, but none of us be knowing when that trail will be giving him back to us. Being that as it is, he’ll be staying on with us a week more. I be certain the great and mighty Kallum won’t be holding these few precious days we have left against us.”

  None at the table was more surprised by the king’s words than Maelich. Ymitoth had always put duty before all else. Perhaps he was softening in his old age. Either that, or he would miss his son as much as the rest of the makeshift family sitting around the table. Maelich didn’t care either way. He’d take that week and squeeze as much into it as he could.