Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  She wasn’t making sense, “Who is Coeptus? Everyone knows Kallum created all things.”

  Before Leisha could respond, the door burst open. “The city is under attack, my queen,” the guard stammered, out of breath, “three hooded riders. They look like men, but our warriors are falling quickly.”

  “The dead-eyed men!” Leisha stammered.

  The three charged out onto the path. Night had fallen. They must have been talking for quite some time. He recognized the attackers immediately. They were Kallum’s priests. The riders of Druindahl continuously charged, but they continuously fell. They were no match for the agents of Kallum.

  Leisha cried out as she saw Cialia charging into battle, “No!”

  Maelich leapt from the path down to the forest floor. He was about twenty feet behind Cialia, but her horse was much too fast for him to catch. She bore down on the monsters firing daggers as she went. They had no effect. She drew her swords as she flipped off Purity’s back and slashed at the one in front. He brought his arm up and blocked the blow. Then he smiled as he planted an uppercut under her chin. She sailed through the air and slammed against the ground. The three advanced on her as she tried in vain to crawl away. Maelich reached her first. He stood between her and the priests.

  “Stop,” he shouted. His voice echoed through the forest as everyone except the priests stood still. Even the archers in the trees held back their arrows.

  While the priests’ attention was on Maelich, the warriors who hadn’t fallen slipped back into the trees to regroup. The dead-eyed men continued to advance, undaunted by Maelich’s warning. Maelich remembered what Ymitoth had told him about hesitation. He didn’t know what to believe right at that moment. However, he certainly was not about to let any harm befall his newfound family.

  He shouted again, “I command you to stop. Your rage is unwelcomed here and will be repaid with violence tenfold.”

  The three stopped. The leader spoke, “You have done well, my son. The dragon is crafty and has hidden this place from my sight. You have shown me the way. You stand tall in your Lord’s eyes on this day. Now, make way. This city has broken my first law and must be punished.”

  Maelich paused. It suddenly occurred to him he wasn’t simply challenging dead-eyed men, but Kallum himself. When first he faced the priests, they were merely adversaries. They were simply men. Since Kallum spoke through them in the temple at Havenstahl, he now knew they acted according to his will. Doubt suddenly clouded his mind. How could he stand against his Lord?

  The hero spoke, “I need time. I have been told many things that trouble my mind. Please, my Lord, don’t force me to react in my confused state.”

  The three men removed their hoods in unison, their appearance as menacing as Maelich remembered. The leader grinned. However, the expression wasn’t friendly. His wild orange hair and black, dead eyes gave him an evil, maniacal appearance. He continued, “My son, confused or no, do not stand against me for any cause. I created you. I created everything. To stand with this vile, treacherous people is to break my law along with them. You put yourself in a place lower than the vermin creeping among the dirt and dark places. Stand aside and remain within my grace, or face oblivion.”

  Silence rumbled in all ears on the field that day as Maelich thought hard about his next words. Staring at the man’s dead eyes, he raised his head high and with courage in his voice said, “Forgive me, Lord. I cannot.”

  The warriors of Druindahl had already begun evacuating the city. Using Maelich’s distraction to shuffle the women and children deeper into the forest toward the caves. The caves had been used many times in the history of Druindahl to protect her people from those who would do her harm. Those times were long, long ago. They hadn’t cause to use the caves for centuries, but on this eve, they would once again prove useful as shelter in the face of a storm.

  The leader’s face grew grim at Maelich’s refusal to submit. He clenched his hands into fists and beat them against his own head as he let out a raspy shout. His rage quickly mounted as he began stomping about and launching rapid, wild curses at Maelich. The two behind him followed suit, stomping and cursing. They pointed their fingers at him and up toward the sky. Maelich held his ground. The last time he had faced them, he was but a swordsman. He figured to have much less to fear from them now.

  Meanwhile, Daritus had crept up and dragged Cialia to safety. He sent her away with Leisha, a small group of soldiers, and the rest of the folk of Druindahl toward the caves. The balance of Druindahl’s army remained in position to defend them. Should Maelich fall or turn on them, they would fight. They would lay down their lives if necessary. The archers in the trees readied their bows while the soldiers on the ground readied their swords. They watched, and they waited.

  Maelich stood his ground as the leader suddenly stopped his stomping and cursing and lunged toward him. Before Maelich could react and present any kind of defense, two fists like stone pounded him in the chest. The canopy raced by overhead as Maelich sailed a solid fifteen feet through the air before slamming into the forest floor. By the time he scrambled to his feet, his eyes glowed red fire.

  The three continued to advance. Leery of attacking his Lord, Maelich stood fast. The leader lashed out him with both fists again. This time Maelich reacted by grabbing hold of the dead-eyed man’s wrists.

  “Enough,” Maelich pleaded, “please don’t force me into a choice I am not ready to make.”

  “You have already chosen,” the leader hissed, as he smashed the center of his forehead into Maelich’s nose.

  Maelich stumbled backward, losing his grip on the man’s arms. His knees buckled, but he kept his feet. Blood poured from his battered face, saturating what little beard he had. Rage slithered through Maelich’s body causing him to tremble slightly. As it slipped down his spine like a snake, that trembling grew until Maelich’s body was tense and shaking. Servant of God or no, Maelich was finished with dead-eyed men.

  Flames swirled around Maelich’s forearms up to his elbows. The muscles in his face bulging as he clamped his jaws down tight. Raising his arms and pointing his fists at the three, he barely noticed the smell of his sleeves burning. Then, hiss, two perfect spheres of fire raced toward the three, exploding against the leader and engulfing him in the flame of Maelich’s rage. The concussion from the blast rocketed the dead-eyed man through the air. The remaining two instantly charged, their dead eyes wide and unyielding. Maelich fired again and sent them sailing. They landed near the leader. Three fires became one.

  The fire burned for a time. Maelich’s breaths came rapid and heavy, as he watched the three writhing in agony. So focused was he on the result of his rage, he didn’t notice the shocked looks of hardened warriors staring at his display of power. The fire of the Dragon was an incomparable, mythical force that, according to the traditions of Druindahl, had never been released. That is, until now. Any among those shocked witnesses who had doubted the savior’s identity instantly became believers.

  As the flames and moans gradually subsided, so did Maelich’s rage. Suddenly, the stinging in his nose jumped to the front of his awareness. He turned back toward the city. Hopefully, there was someone who could help him tend to that. However, it seemed everyone had gone. He was alone. Of course, that couldn’t be the case. From what he’d seen, the warriors of Druindahl would never stop. They should still be at their posts, hiding among the trees, watching. He started off in the direction he imagined the caves would be. Then he heard another moan.

  Maelich spun around in time to see the three rising again, completely unscathed. His confidence sank as they floated toward him with their feet hovering just above the ground. He took one step back and considered flight. Ymitoth’s voice in his head stayed his feet, ‘Stay strong, son. There be no man or no beast who can sway ye from your path.’ Maelich let the fire come again.

  Then a growl from deep in the forest, far behind Maelich, shook the very ground on which they stood. The three stopped. They didn’t retreat,
but Maelich thought he saw the slightest hint of fear on their faces. Maelich advanced. The ground rumbled as if a herd of tubber was stampeding through The Forgotten Forest. Maelich turned toward the sound.

  A brilliant, silver light filled the forest, blinding Maelich. He had no idea what was coming but it had to be immense and powerful. He strained his eyes, squinting through the blaze to try and make out a shape. It was no use. The glare was too great, like staring at the sun. The thunderous rumble increased in volume as the violence with which the ground shook steadily increased. Though he couldn’t make out what was coming, the danger of staying put was undeniable. He dove behind a tree a moment before a silver streak shot passed him. Within that blazing streak of silver light, he faintly made out powerful legs and jaws.

  The three stood their ground as the beast charged through them and continued into the trees without slowing at all. Just as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone, whisked away by a charging beast in a silver light.

  Maelich collected himself as the warriors of Druindahl who had stayed behind appeared from among the trees. Excitement buzzed through the crowd. Hardened soldiers hugged and congratulated each other. One even danced a jig.

  “On my honor, that was the Lion himself,” a voice among the crowd called out.

  Another answered, “Bless your eyes. They serve you well. That was Kaldumahn indeed.”

  “The great silver Lion who stalks the skies,” added still another.

  Maelich had no idea what to make of all the cheering and singing. He was completely confused. These were the very warriors he had been taught were evil and bent on the destruction of all that is good. The happy group before him didn’t fit that description at all. They continued to sing and celebrate as they filtered out toward the caves.

  Once the others had gone, only Daritus and Maelich remained in the clearing. Daritus spun and stalked toward Maelich. His eyes mere slits, and his scowl pure fury. Nothing on the king’s face remotely resembled the sheer giddiness on the faces of his men as they had tromped off toward the caves. His face pulsed with vengeance.

  “You brought Kallum’s wrath upon our city?” the king roared.

  “I would never,” surprise dripped from Maelich’s voice “I had no idea they would come. I was drawn to this place, not sent. In fact, I was forbidden to journey anywhere but to the dragon. I disobeyed. They…they must have followed me.”

  “Bind your lips lest they spew more vile poison upon this sacred ground,” Daritus’ voice echoed through the forest. However, his demeaner calmed almost instantly before he continued, “You are the queen, my wife’s, son, and she has forbidden me from striking you down. I remain unconvinced you are worthy of mercy, but I must honor her judgment. Yours is a task which must be carried out. She will wish to have an audience with you before you depart. Follow me.”

  Maelich thought to argue his point further, but he kept his tongue. Though he battled the three, he had to concede their appearance immediately after his in a place hidden for so long would appear to be much more than coincidence. Even more than that, he reckoned much of Daritus’ anger was caused by sorrow for his lost men.

  The journey to the caves was long and wound through woods so dark, Maelich may as well have had his eyes closed. He could barely see Daritus a few inches in front of him. Were it not for the random splash of moonlight penetrating the canopy, he would have been all but blind. Despite the darkness, Daritus guided him through as if it were midday.

  A chill crept over Maelich as he did his best to match Daritus’ movements, turning to avoid and stepping over obstacles he couldn’t see. Twice he stumbled over a root or stump, or some other thing he couldn’t hope to identify. Those random bits of moonlight were a blessing, but they cast odd shadows about. Was that a face howling with rage? No, just a knot in an old pine. Maelich wasn’t quite afraid, but there was something eerie about the forest. Perhaps it was his presuppositions of the people who inhabited the place. Perhaps it was the howling wind whistling through the trees like a witch whistling to her enchanted. He couldn’t be sure. Nonetheless, he gathered his cloak tighter about his shoulders.

  Finally, one more turn, and torches blazed. It took Maelich a moment to realize they weren’t merely approaching a cave, but already in it. That was a trick. None of the torchlight bled through the loose covering of moss behind him. Maelich barely had time to examine his surroundings before the place echoed with cheers and folks began patting his back.

  “Sing me a cheer for the great warrior of the Lake,” someone shouted.

  Two women quickly ran to Maelich with wet cloths and attended to his shattered nose, while someone from the crowd belted out a tune:

  When the vile priests they came to call

  They did bite and smash and men did fall

  Great soldiers ground beneath the feet

  Of dead and soulless beasts

  Great Mother cried, her heart did break

  When she saw her people’s lives at stake

  As one after one lay down his life

  She pitied for our strife

  A savior from the Lake she sent

  To save us…

  “Stop,” Daritus’ roared, his voice echoing like thunder through the cave. “You sing praises and offer adoration to this vile thing, this slithering traitor who would bring the weight of Kallum’s fury down on our beloved city? Druindahl has been hidden from Kallum’s sight for thousands of years and suddenly he stumbles across her only after this fiend has discovered her? Kallum’s soldier, his bringer of death, appears immediately before his priests. Is this coincidence? I say no. I say this devil of a man brought Kallum’s rage with him to our fair city. I say he is bound to destroy us and then the Dragon.”

  “But sire, look at him,” a voice called out from the crowd. “He stood firm against those monsters and protected us. They battered him for it. That’s proof enough for me.”

  “Ah, you’re a simple twit,” another voice rang out. “Listen to your king. The treacherous bastard led those beasts right to our door.”

  “Come now, think about this logically,” still another voice begged. “Had the man wished us dead, why not burn our city down with his flame? It makes no sense to bring Kallum to this place when the man is walking around this world with the power of Dragon’s flame.”

  Daritus glared at Maelich as the crowd’s arguments turned into pushing and shoving. It wasn’t long before fists were flying. One man held his brother’s arms back so another man could punch his face. It was all more than Maelich could take. He faced the crowd and raised up his hands to them. He spoke no words with his mouth, but his message was clear in their minds. The fighting slowly diminished and abruptly ended as he soothed them, filling their heads with pleasant thoughts.

  As Daritus watched Maelich enchant the people of Druindahl, he slowly realized what was happening. He charged at him, planting his shoulder squarely into Maelich’s back. The blow nearly knocked the lad off his feet.

  Maelich spun to face his attacker, “Why do you attack me when I bring peace to these people?”

  “You enchant them!” Daritus hissed. “You would control them. You would turn their faces toward your god, the king of lies, the father of hate.”

  Maelich was incredulous, “I don’t wish to change their faith. They’re destroying each other. I’m calming them, filling them with thoughts of peace and love. Perhaps I am enchanting them, but not for my own good, for theirs. Does your hatred for me blind you to the good in what I’m trying to do?”

  “There is nothing good about your cause. You are evil. Your cause is evil,” Daritus scowled as he drew his sword. “Leave us now, before your demons return to finish us off.”

  Leisha’s voice deflated the tension, “Daritus, my love, why do you fire these daggers at my son? His mind is confused. His path has been twisted for him throughout his entire life, and now he’s trying to find his way. What could he possibly know but what he’s been taught? Had you been raised as he was, you
would share the same faith as he and harbor the same hatred for the Dragon.” She moved toward them through the crowd.

  “I know this,” Daritus spat, his anger still seething, “but he brought the fury of Kallum upon us. He led them to us to destroy us!”

  She shook her head, “Had he truly wanted to destroy us, he could have done that himself. You saw his power. That’s all these people can talk about now. He wields Dragon’s fire. He could have burned our city and our forest to the ground if he saw fit. Is there a warrior among your army who could challenge him? I think not.”

  “Then how did Kallum find us?” his eyes never left Maelich.

  “Before you arrived, I was in quite a state. I became faint and the Lion took me. He stood with me on a mountaintop, high among the clouds. He told me we must not hinder Maelich in his quest. Whatever path he chooses, he must be allowed to choose. No matter the outcome. Kallum’s power grows and the time is now.” She turned to Maelich, “Son, you must go now. You must face the Dragon. You must search your heart for truth and trust what you find there. You must push away everything anyone else has told you, even me, and decide which path is yours.”

  Daritus looked to his wife, and then back to Maelich. The scowl never left his face as he shook his head and stormed through the crowd and out of the cave.

  Maelich went to Leisha and embraced her. As he did, images of her life flashed through his head. All the years he had missed, would he ever see her again? Right at that moment, he wished to be a lad again. He wished she would pick him up and take him off to lead a normal life. If only he could turn back time and find her sooner. Instead, he kissed her cheek and pulled away. It was time to go.

  A tear trickled down Leisha’s check as she watched he and his smile walk away. She wished for the same. Her boy was a man, and she missed him becoming one. Those were years she would never get back. Would she ever see him again? That was something she couldn’t know. No one could, not even Kaldumahn or Kallum.