Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Suddenly an arm from the crowd reached out and grabbed what was left of the sleeve of Maelich’s cloak. He turned to see Cialia, a big swollen bruise on her chin, but a wide happy smile on her lips. She threw her arms around her brother and squeezed him.

  “You would have left without saying good-bye, brother?” she whispered.

  “Not intentionally,” he replied quietly, as he returned the embrace.

  Of course, she was completely correct. The idea he had a sister at all was so new, it wasn’t something he consciously realized. Suddenly, he was overcome with a strange elation, like a tingling in his soul. He had a sister, and she was going to miss him.

  “I’m sorry we spent the little time we had together arguing,” Cialia’s voice still a whisper.

  He chuckled, “Me too. If ever again we meet, let’s leave our swords in their scabbards.”

  She nodded as she pulled away, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek. He wiped a tear from hers and kissed her forehead. Then he turned, walked to the mouth of the cave, paused a moment, and was gone.

  Chapter 23

  The Old Man

  Once Maelich had left the cave, a sharp whistle brought Validus charging to him. Maelich mounted and they trotted into darkness. The horse must have done quite a bit of exploring while Maelich acquainted himself with his family. He seemed quite accustomed to the forest’s paths and runs. Traveling by moonlight wouldn’t be nearly the challenge Maelich expected.

  As they approached Druindahl, a terrifying thought crept into Maelich’s head. The dead-eyed priests knew where Druindahl was. The warriors of the city were no match for them. What would they do without him to protect them? Then a voice eased his mind. He couldn’t tell if it was among the trees or in his head, but it spoke to him.

  The voice said, “I have bound this place again from the lord of The Lost Forest. Druindahl is once again safe from his rage.”

  “Who’s there,” Maelich asked, unable to place the direction from which the voice came.

  There was no answer. Perhaps it was the one they called Kaldumahn. Whomever it was, he felt he could trust this voice. By the time they passed the city proper—far up in the trees above them—Maelich’s concern had completely fled. However, when the path turned back toward The Edge Mountains, logic took over. This forest borders The Lost Forest. Why go back across the mountains, back the way they had come? Why go all the way back to the path that would take them across Galgooth and back to The Lost Forest when they were already near it? He decided to follow along its edge instead.

  Days poured into weeks as the forest gave way to swamps which eventually gave way to rolling hills. Time didn’t matter much. They were beyond it. Feeling constantly refreshed, as if they continually ate and slumbered despite taking pause for neither. The only disturbance they met was an odd loneliness seeping out of The Lost Forest. They only felt it when they got too close to the thick tangle of branches marking its edge. There was sadness muddled in with all that loneliness. It was strong, tangible. Something crying out to Maelich without a voice that desperately wanted to be heard for its silence, to be known. That silent cry was like a call for help Maelich was powerless to answer. Despite his best efforts to offer soothing, calming thoughts to whomever suffered such great distress, the forest refused to submit. It surged against his blessings and pushed back against his thoughts. The voiceless cries continued, haunting his journey.

  Finally, Validus crested a hill, and Maelich could see the path they would have taken in the valley below him. They had arrived. The path led right into The Lost Forest. There was something else though, something he hadn’t been expecting. Across the road, at the edge of the forest was a small hut. It looked old but solid. The wooden planks loosely clinging to the frame of the structure looked weathered but sturdy. They carried the grime and scars of countless years. The place had no windows, only a solitary door directly in the center of the hut’s face. He would have thought the place deserted if not for the light wisps of smoke rising out of the chimney. Maelich’s curiosity awakened. What type of man or creature would occupy such a place, so far from anything but the loneliness of The Lost Forest?

  They charged down the hill. Perhaps they could water and get a meal before attacking the forest. Maelich knew he could sustain them, but a nice meal would be a welcome distraction. He dismounted Validus and pounded on the ancient looking door, careful not to strike too hard for fear it may crumble. Surprisingly, it was quite solid. He pounded harder. There was a slight commotion inside. A few moments later, the door slowly creaked open.

  The vision standing in the doorway was perhaps the oldest looking creature Maelich had ever seen. It was a man to be certain. His skin though, it was so leathery. If not for all the wrinkles covering all the wrinkles on his face, he would have looked like a grong. Of course, that only counts what could be seen of the man’s face behind his wild beard springing up all here and there. It completely covered his mouth and cheeks before plummeting all the way to his feet.

  Maelich considered the wild, ridiculously long beard for a moment. Had it been well cared for it would be quite a magnificent thing. However, in its current state of disrepair it looked rather silly. It perfectly matched the unbelievable white tangle above the man’s eyes which must have been eyebrows. Maelich could barely tell where one tangle stopped and the other began. Above all that snarly nonsense was a stark white, billowing fluff of hair that filled the doorway and even escaped its borders. The only thing keeping the man’s hair somewhat under control was a tall, cone shaped hat as bright a yellow as the man’s cloak. The cloak itself looked like it had been sewn for a man eight times this fellow’s size.

  Maelich did all he could to remain respectful. He hoped to be a guest, and all guests should be gracious. However, it took everything he had to keep from laughing at the man. He completely lost his composure when the bloke finally spoke.

  In a high-pitched, squeaky cackle of a voice the man said, “Wumph waca ida faya?”

  Maelich couldn’t speak. He fell victim to a mad fit of chortle snorting guffaws. The old man obviously missed the joke as he raised his eyebrows. Not with the muscles in his forehead. No, he literally raised his eyebrows. He took his hands, grabbed them and lifted so he could get a look at the buffoon who was laughing at him. This pushed the laughing idiot further over the edge as he fell to the ground.

  The old man tried again. This time taking his left hand and lifting his mustache, “Well what do you want you giggling idiot?”

  The man’s anger helped calm Maelich’s laughter slightly. He choked his reply out amid the giggles, “F…Forgive me…heh, heh. Your ah…your presence…he, he…here startled me.” Maelich’s laughter finally subsided as the old man continued to glare with exceptionally keen eyes for one of such obviously advanced age. “I didn’t realize anyone lived this far to the south and east.”

  “Well I do,” the man snapped, his voice still a raspy squeak. “What of it?”

  Maelich began to feel a bit remorseful about laughing at the old man’s appearance, “Nothing, nothing at all. I’m just a weary traveler, excited at the idea of a bit of company.”

  The man sneered, but Maelich couldn’t see it, “Or a free meal maybe? Well you can forget it! I don’t give hand-outs to beggars.”

  “I’m no beggar,” he was slightly offended, “I’m a warrior of Havenstahl and even more. I mean to conquer that forest. Please forgive the intrusion. I meant you no disrespect. It’s just that, the road is lonely, and the thought of a little companionship before I attack the desperation those trees have to offer was quite attractive to me. I’ll be on my way.”

  The man’s eyes widened, “You intend to go in there? No one goes in there. I should say, no one goes in there and comes out alive. Perhaps you should rethink this plan of yours.”

  Maelich shook his head, “No, that’s where my path leads. I must go. Good evening to you.” He bowed his head slightly, “I’ll be on my way.”

  “Wait a moment,” th
e man stepped toward him, as his voice became a whisper, “a bit of advice for a traveler. Never go drinking with dwarves. Their king is a giant, fifteen feet tall, eyes like fire, teeth like spears. If he catches you inebriating his minions, he’ll rip the head from your body and suck your insides out before your brain even realizes you are dead.”

  Maelich chuckled, “The king of the dwarves? The giant? Do you mean Maomnosett Ahm, the king of the dwarves of Alhouim? I suppose news doesn’t make it this far very often does it? I killed Ahm when I was a lad of but twelve summers, just into my thirteenth year. I cut off his head and presented it to the king of Havenstahl on the giant’s own spear. You can get the dwarves as drunk as you’d like.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed, “Who are you, lad?”

  “I am Maelich of Havenstahl. And who might you be?”

  “My name?” The old man thought for a moment, “You know, lad, I’ve been out here alone for so long I can’t remember what it is they used to call me. You know what? I don’t know what my name is. Why don’t you call me…old man? That seems an accurate description. Don’t you suppose?”

  Maelich smiled, “Yes, I suppose, old man. That name suits you better than any other I could think of. Well, good evening, old man. I’ll be on my way.”

  The old man’s eyes softened, “Why don’t you water your horse and offer him some oats? Then you could step in and share a bit of stew with me. Have a bit of rest before again you hit the trail. That forest can overcome you.”

  Maelich obliged the man and led Validus to a trough full of water. Then he filled a feedbag with oats and gave it to his horse before going into the old man’s hut. Validus obviously felt the same way about real nourishment, as the horse vigorously attacked the feedbag. Some stew would be nice. Maelich went inside.

  The interior of the hut was just as ancient and plain as the outside. There was one table, two chairs, one of which looked to be very seldom, if ever, used. There was a fireplace that was nothing more than a hole in the wall and a stove. What a lonely man this old man must be. Two steaming bowls rested on the table. Maelich took the chair across from where the old man sat.

  “You’re the one,” the old man said as Maelich sat down.

  Maelich took up his spoon and tested the stew. It was quite hot, but quite savory. “Which one would that be?” he mused. Then he noticed the old man had tied off his mangle of eyebrows and bush of a mustache to free his hands up for eating. The sight of it almost sent Maelich right back over the edge. This time, however, he managed to contain himself.

  “Aw piss off then,” the old man had waited long for company and found no humor in Maelich’s jest.

  “Forgive me,” he began. “It’s just that…as of late, my idea of who I am has become quite confused for me. I thought I knew my task. In fact, I was sure of it. All I know for sure is I was born of The Lake of Dragons, and I must now face the dragon. Beyond that, I know nothing.”

  Maelich could see the old man’s mouth now. He could also see the smile it wore. “I knew it! You’re the lad of the Lake! You’re the one who will slay that dragon. Humph, somehow I thought you’d be bigger.”

  “That’s what I thought. Then…” Maelich paused for more than a few moments as he looked off into nothing, “…then my path was confused for me. My whole life I had been led to believe things my own eyes now tell me weren’t true. Even the man I trusted most, the one I call father, lied to me. If he lied about my heritage, how can I believe anything else he taught me?”

  The old man brushed back his crazy eyebrows that had again fallen over his eyes and tucked them behind his ears. There was knowledge in those eyes. Maelich could see this man knew things about him. Perhaps he was another who knew more about him than he knew about himself. There seemed an abundance of those types on Ouloos. What’s one more?

  The man stared into Maelich’s eyes, “Ymitoth told you your mother had died, but he never told you how. Then Brerto told you she flung herself off a cliff into the river Galgooth. It is true that neither of these descriptions is completely accurate, but they’re not lies. After your birth, your mother was seduced by the dragon. She was enamored by his fire and his power. It was then the pure, innocent young girl who was your mother became the queen of those who worship the vile, winged demon that reigns the sky behind his pulpit of fear. Therefore, when Ymitoth told you she had died, he spoke the truth. She has died. Her spirit has died. Furthermore, when Brerto told you she flung herself off a cliff, he spoke the truth. His description was symbolic. She was flung into a great abyss, the evil fire of the dragon. She did this of her own accord. The river Galgooth that flows far below the cliffs at Havenstahl was symbolic of that abyss. Brerto knew if you met what she had become, she would try to seduce you. He was correct. She did that, and now you are in a state of utter confusion. That is why he forbade you to go anywhere but to the dragon.”

  Maelich shook his head, “Did you refer to the dragon as he? Those of Druindahl refer to it as her. Its femininity seemed quite important to them.”

  The old man humphed again, “That’s part of the seduction. That vile beast masquerades as a vulnerable, helpless, feminine creature. Those who follow him assist in the masquerade. They are just as evil as the demon they worship. Don’t let them or that winged monster fool you. The dragon is powerful. Never let your guard down.”

  “But I didn’t sense evil in those people. They seemed righteous and pure,” Maelich continued shaking his head slowly as he spoke.

  The old man pointed, “Aha, more of the seduction. Leisha knew you would recognize her. She knew you would want her love with all your being. A lad without a mother has a vast, empty void within him. She used your desire to trick you. She is a witch, and you’ve been enchanted by her spell. Don’t let her illusions sway you from the path of truth, Maelich. She is deceit, just as is the dragon.”

  Maelich’s head swirled again, “All the feeling and emotion I received from her told me she was pure and true. And what about Cialia?”

  “Ah, the twin,” the old man smiled, “she was lost along with her mother. They tried to save her too when they rescued you, but they were unsuccessful. She has been too long in the dragon’s presence. You can’t save her. She was destined to accompany you on your quest, but now it can’t be. She would seek to defend the vile beast and frustrate your mission. All would be lost. Alas, this task is yours and yours alone.”

  “Again,” Maelich countered, “I saw none of that. We shared a connection, she and I. It was like I could see into her soul. There was no evil, no ill intent.”

  “She believes it, like they all do,” the old man fired back quickly around a mouth full of stew, swallowing before adding, “The dragon’s seduction is deep. They don’t see the evil in him, so they don’t understand their worship of him is evil. Why would you sense evil when they don’t know what they’re doing is wrong?”

  “I suppose,” Maelich shrugged, wolfed down some stew, and continued, “Shouldn’t I try to save them then?”

  “You will when you kill that dragon,” the old man shrugged right back at him. “They will all pay for their insolence, but Kallum is fair. They will eventually find peace.”

  Maelich stared into his bowl. He had so many more questions, but it seemed the answers only served to confuse him more. Finally, he asked, “How can you know so much about me, about everything? Furthermore, what proof do I have I should trust you over anyone else?”

  The old man only snored in response.

  “Are you sleeping?” Maelich asked.

  The hairy, old fellow was deep in it, chin in his chest, sawing logs like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Maelich reached across the table and gave his shoulder a tug. Nothing. The old man was out.

  “I guess that’s it then,” he whispered.

  Sleep wasn’t anything Maelich needed nor desired. He finished up his stew in the company of the old man’s snoring. Then he left the hut in silence. Hopefully, he’d find some answers on the other side of that forest.
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  Chapter 24

  The Lost Forest

  The sun had already dipped below the horizon leaving the sky with only the faint memory of its brilliance by the time Maelich roused his sleeping horse. It was almost a shame to wake the slumbering beast. He toyed with the idea of letting his horse have a solid night’s rest before attacking that dark place and its terrifying reputation. How many frightful, nightmare inducing yarns had he heard as a lad? He couldn’t even guess at a number, but it would be a grand number indeed. Nevertheless, the horse didn’t really need the sleep, and Maelich was ready.

  It took Maelich the entirety of ten minutes to decide all those horrifying stories he’d heard had been accurate, if not a bit tamer than reality. It wasn’t so much the darkness, nor was it even the deafening quiet of the damnable place. Maelich no longer needed the aid of light to see when his mind was clear, nor did he despise the prospect of a quiet trot through the woods. It was more like sadness, not from within, but from the place itself. It oozed from the trees like sap and permeated the air.

  Maelich hummed a few bars of some tune he remembered Ymitoth whistling about on the trail during simpler days. He longed for that bygone time when all he had to worry about was following his mentor’s orders and minding his tongue. Those days were long gone, and the tune wasn’t helping. It seemed as if that sadness had reached right into Maelich’s skull and grabbed hold of his consciousness. Despite his best efforts, he could focus on nothing else.

  The deeper into the forest they trekked, the darker that sadness became. It was almost tangible, sliding across his skin before slithering into his pores. As Maelich focused on that feeling soaking into his being, he realized it wasn’t mere sadness at all. It was too overwhelming, almost debilitating. Worse than even despair, it was utter hopelessness, like lying in hot sand with no water or food knowing you’re going to die.

  A thick tangle of trees bordered either side of the trail, as if Kallum had decided this one path was the only way through. Any mysteries held within the trees known only to those gnarly, ancient giants. It was like walking down the hall of an impenetrable dungeon, thick walls on either side offering no escape.