Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Something suddenly stood out among the silence. It seemed a shout, but without sound. Silent cries of agony mingled and swam about the depression speaking to Maelich’s psyche rather than his ears. They sang songs of the most pitiable suffering. Validus suddenly shuddered beneath Maelich, as if the horse was acknowledging his spirit had sunk as low as his master’s while trudging through the macabre symphony of sadness. He could sense the great suffering as well. Their spirits sunk as they slowly trotted along.

  Simple complacency became a summit too high as Maelich searched his mind for the last time he felt joy. Meeting his mother after believing her dead all those years, that had been real joy, albeit short lived. That fleeting moment of elation had been squashed, replaced by the misery of her once again being dead to him. How could he love a vile witch in service of evil himself? After soaring so high, he’d fallen into a pit deeper than the lowest low he had ever felt. Where was the lie in their brief encounter? Dragon’s fire was only one of the powers bestowed upon him by the Lake. How did he miss her deceit?

  There were too many voices telling him what to do, who to believe, and how things were. Their voices all mingled together in his mind, cavorting with that desperate song of sorrow. The old man’s voice stood out among the rest. The chance encounter didn’t seem so strange when he was desperately seeking some company. Now that he had a chance to sift through it all, all he could muster were more questions. Who was the old man, and how did he know so much? Those two questions seemed most relevant. Of course, after considering those two questions, whether the old man could be trusted or not ultimately proved most important.

  The man’s face suddenly popped into Maelich’s head. The ridiculous mustache and brows big enough to fashion a wig for a bald man seemed a farce when taken with those keen eyes. His explanations of why it seemed everyone Maelich had ever trusted lied to him were logical enough. The problem was, how could this lonely, old soul at the edge of the world know anything about anything? It just didn’t make sense.

  Maelich turned these ideas over and over again in his mind asking himself the same answerless questions he’d been asking himself since he’d left the old man’s hut as he and Validus trudged deeper into the forest. Night should have long given way to the bright sunshine of a new day. Maelich couldn’t know whether that was the case. The forest wouldn’t allow it. The canopy above was at least as thick as the impenetrable wall of trees on either side. Even the mighty sun’s rays would be no match. What did it matter anyway? Marching toward an unsure destiny made haste seem the least important thing in the world.

  Maelich’s spirit continued to sink deeper as each inch of the forest gave way to another which seemed the same. This tree was the same as that tree which looked identical to the next and so on until, something changed. A thin break in the trees offered a glimpse into the impenetrable fortress of trees. Those joyless silent shouts seemed even louder there.

  Maelich dismounted and warily approached the opening. The shouts almost had form, meaning. What that meaning might be remained a mystery, but something beckoned. There was a sudden urgency, like life and death. He peered through the slit, but it was just more trees and darkness.

  Validus suddenly began whinnying and stomping about distracting Maelich for the briefest of moments. The hair on the back of his neck stood as dread filled him before he even turned back toward the thin break in the trees. It was a song with no musician until Maelich saw the thing. A ghostly glow hovered immediately before him. Not quite an apparition, the translucent and shapeless cloud inched closer.

  Maelich fought to hold his ground. The battle was brief. His flesh tightened into bumps as a chill ran from the base of his neck all the way through his toes. The hopelessness he had felt earlier fled in the face of terror like nothing he had ever experienced. His breath quickly got away from him as his heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to run, to leap up on Validus’ saddle and flee the nameless dread slowly creeping upon him, but his legs wouldn’t obey his commands. Instead, he stumbled back into Validus. The horse’s trembling rivaled his own.

  Logic failed completely as Maelich spiraled deeper into a fear he couldn’t understand. The thing approaching him didn’t threaten or menace, it merely approached. Why did it strike him with such terror? Whatever the reason, he failed to gain control of it as he pressed himself harder against his trembling horse.

  When the formless mist finally slipped out from between the trees and onto the trail, Maelich gave up his battle against the fear gripping him. He ran, charging down the trail, pumping his legs with everything he had. It took mere moments for Validus to charge past him down the path. A moment of regret for not mounting the animal in the first place flashed across his consciousness as he watched his best means of escape vanish into darkness.

  With nothing left to do but run for his life, Maelich did just that. He put his head down and pumped even harder. Loathe to spare a glance over his shoulder to gauge the success of his effort to escape the specter, he had no idea how much distance there might be between them. Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter. He could feel the thing gaining on him, gobbling up the space between them like a thirsty giant sucking up a shallow pond.

  Despite his efforts, the thing was on him. There was no bump, no push, just a feeling more like an emotion than a triggering of sensory nerves. It felt like a cold stream of water slowly trickling down his back, freezing as it went. A shiver raced through his body shaking him off his stride. He cried out as he slipped, sprawling onto the ground. The echo of his voice off the trees seemed foreign, like cries from another. He hadn’t time to think about how odd it was to hear your voice from a different perspective. The thing was directly above him, hovering like a cloud untouched by even the slightest breeze. It sat there like that, motionless for what seemed an eternity.

  Maelich’s eyes slammed shut as he trembled there in the dirt, but he forced them back open. He needed to see the thing, perhaps understand why it filled him with such monumental dread. It had no features, no limbs, no face, nothing it could attack with, yet he knew the thing meant to do him harm. Then it shifted, almost revolved, and slowly descended on him. Again, he cried out. This time swinging a fist at the thing. His arm passed through unhindered, but he felt something. It was so cold. It washed over him like diving into an icy brook on a snowy morning, but it wasn’t quite that at all. This cold wasn’t the frosty chill of a mountain wind, nor even the icy water of that brook. This cold was different. It was emptiness and loss, as if those emotions had physical characteristics which could be felt by another.

  Maelich gasped, his body convulsing as the thing entered his chest. Somehow, it felt even colder, like his very cells were freezing into thick blocks of ice. The convulsions grew more violent as his vision went dark. Though his eyes were open, it seemed he was looking within, somehow beholding this thing within his body. The thing still had no shape, no form, but he saw it. It was like staring into a black void. Nothing. It wasn’t really nothing though. It was something. It was loneliness, fear, sorrow, despair, and so much more. He began to feel these things as if they were his own. It was as if the thing was feeding him these emotions from within like unwanted gifts.

  The blackness slowly faded as the emptiness grew. Suddenly, there was light. Two hands stretched before his eyes. They weren’t his, but from his perspective they had to be. At the end of them a small girl held on tight. He was spinning her. Her soft, green eyes wide as she laughed. She was young, maybe five or six summers. They were on a hill looking over waves of flowing grass speckled with vibrant, purple wildflowers. Rolling hills surrounded them. Though he didn’t recognize the girl’s face, he felt a joy so complete. It was as if everything he cared about were holding on to his hands right at that moment spinning lazy circles with him. It was such a feeling of peace, the fear and emptiness which had filled him only moments prior were gone, completely forgotten.

  The peace, that carefree feeling of complete joy, didn’t last. It was chased away by
a growl, deep and guttural. He stopped spinning and quickly shuffled the girl behind him just in time to save her from teeth and claws. The effort proved a brief rescue as he was knocked to the side, sprawled across the grass with a stinging in his jaw and blood trickling down his cheek. The landscape before him dipped and swayed as he stumbled to his feet.

  Maelich could hear the girl shrieking, pain-soaked, pitiable screams, but he couldn’t see her. He scanned the hillside, whipping his head this way and that, but could find no source for those cries. Then crunching, ripping, and popping sounds mingled in with the girls screams and the beasts’ growls. All of them merging into a terrifying song. He ran toward the edge of the hill, toward the horrible chorus of pain.

  When Maelich finally reached the edge of the hilltop, the screaming had stopped. Somehow, the song was more horrible without the screaming. What he saw was more horrible still. He watched helplessly as two amatilazo ripped the girl in half, shredded pieces of innocence filling the air as two monsters battled for their share of the kill.

  The sting in Maelich’s heart at that moment was worse than any pain he could remember. He didn’t know the girl. He had no connection to her, yet he felt a deep, unconditional love for her he couldn’t explain. The cry that left his lips as he raced toward the beasts was a voice he didn’t recognize. Ten steps toward the monsters ripping apart the little girl were all he made before something pounded him in the back and dragged him to the ground. Face down in the grass, he whipped about, struggling, swinging, fighting. It was useless. Sharp points poked into the flesh of his neck. The satisfied growl so close to his ear as meat tore away from his throat was even worse than the pain he felt as it happened. Another poke, another growl, another tear, and then another, he lay there helpless as the thing ate him. His struggles grew weaker until he had nothing left. Everything went black.

  Maelich gasped as the chill left him. Back on the trail, he lay shivering as the mist slowly floated away from him, back the way it came. It took a few moments to process the idea he wasn’t dead, mauled by horrible beasts. Once he realized that, the voiceless cries of the forest began to make sense. How many souls were trapped in this horrible forest, souls crying out to be freed from the torture of reliving awful memories over and over again until the end of time? That was the anguish and despair of the forest. Lost souls begging any who would listen to set them free. Maelich lay weeping until sleep finally took him.

  Sleep proved no reprieve from the terrors of the forest. Teeth and claws, blood and shrieks, the same images flashed repeatedly. That poor soul’s tragedy slowly became Maelich’s own. The pain, the fear, the hurt, the loss, he shared them with this man who could never escape the horrible memories. Worse than that was the loss of his daughter. As Maelich relived the horrid scene time after time, she became his own. Her death and her pain became his loss and his heartbreak. The helplessness of watching, powerless to stop the carnage, to save her, that might have been the worst thing. Hearing her screams, seeing her helpless body tossed about and knowing he could do nothing to help her, it was a sensation so completely foreign to him. He hated it.

  Consciousness was perhaps the best blessing Maelich had ever received, saved from the unrelenting terror of his dream. The images dulled while he was awake, but the pain lingered. No matter how hard he tried to focus his mind elsewhere, those soft, green eyes kept staring, trusting. What would they look like after the terror? Would they accuse him? Why was this world so cruel? How could Kallum let such innocence meet such violence? What kind of god was he?

  Time was a tricky thing in the darkness of the forest, the difference between day and night barely perceptible. Maelich had no idea how long he lay there wallowing in the sorrow and pain that lost soul had gifted him. However, as he lay there doing just that, it eventually became clear it wasn’t doing him or anyone else any good. It was time to move on. The rest of his journey would be much slower without Validus. He fought through his desperation and struggled to his feet.

  As Maelich trudged along, he saw other visions and felt other emotions. It was as if his meeting with the specter on the trail had opened his mind to the plight of all the lost. Those voiceless shouts which had been so muffled were coming through loud and clear screaming to be heard, swirling images of sadness and loss. Some were bloody and tragic, while others were simply sad. Different though they were, all of them took over his senses and planted him in a scene which became his own, a memory as clear as any he had experienced for himself.

  Weakness suddenly overcame him. It didn’t slow him at all. Instead, he trudged along as if someone else were in control of his movements, someone who wanted his full attention. He could feel his legs moving, but the sensation was far away. The trail had vanished. It was replaced by a thatched roof. The sound of rain pounding the dilapidated thing surrounded him, pierced by the drip…drip…drip of drops it couldn’t hold back. A group of teary faces crowded close to him.

  A young woman with skin still soft with the beauty of youth and dark eyes whispered, “I love you,” pushing the hair back from his forehead as she smiled through her tears.

  The old woman next to her shook her fists at the roof above and cried out, “Why? Why would you take me only son?”

  A little girl between them grabbed at his shirt and sobbed, “No, Papa. Don’t go.”

  Of course, he knew the pain and weakness in his body was not his own. Neither was the poor family begging him not to leave them. It didn’t numb the pain or lesson the sadness. They became his own.

  The dead continued to speak directly to his consciousness. Each story told more horrible than the last. He didn’t sleep or eat. He just continued along, living the sadness and pain of those who shared their stories with him. They were relentless, and he was full of them.

  Suddenly, it was quiet. The voices ceased along with the pain. He was on the trail again, and it was beginning to brighten up. The trees once again had distinguishable forms. They were no longer some dark, featureless mass surrounding him. There was even light up ahead. Could it be? He dared not hope. Could his journey through the horrible, lost place be nearing its end?

  Then they were back, louder. Not just feelings or emotions, these were actual sounds. Horrible cries of anguish battering his eardrums. It was as if they sensed his departure was near and refused to be forgotten. How could he forget? Their memories mingled with his own to the point he couldn’t differentiate between them. They were part of him.

  “I hear you,” he shouted at the trees, “You won’t be forgotten.”

  They only cried louder, nothing tangible, only passion and pain.

  Maelich threw his hands up over his ears and fell to his knees, curling up until his elbows rested on the ground next to them. It didn’t help. They were in his head, shouting at his consciousness or his heart, or who knows what. They were relentless, as if they wanted to keep him and never let him go. Couldn’t they understand he couldn’t help them if he remained among them? He wasn’t certain he could help them either way, but he was completely certain he couldn’t help them if he died on the trail saturated with their cries.

  He fought against the pain and pounding and raised his head enough to see the light at the end of the trail. It was so close. If only they would give him a moment of peace, but they wouldn’t. They had someone to listen, someone alive to share their sorrow. They would never let him go if they could help it, but he couldn’t stay. It took every ounce of strength he had to get to his feet, as if they were somehow holding him down. Each step he took toward the light was a struggle, like pushing against a mountain. His knees buckled under the weight of their desire, but he didn’t fall.

  “Stop,” he shouted.

  There it was. It was brief, a split second, but in that infinitesimal moment there was peace. In that sliver of time, Maelich’s focus sharpened on the light like the razor-edge of a blade ready for battle. All his passion, all his love, all his hate, every shred of feeling and will in his entire being reached out for that light
. He sprinted toward it, ignoring the shouts of those lost as much as he could.

  The warmth of the sun chased the shouts away as Maelich burst forth from the dark chill of the forest and fell to the ground in a heap at its edge. His last sprint toward the light, fighting against the will of those lost souls, had taken everything from him. He lay there for a moment in the glorious light before sleep took him.

  Chapter 25

  The Dragon and the Lake

  Maelich slumbered for two full days and nights. He finally woke to early morning sunshine and Validus’ wet snout moving all about his face. The horse had apparently stopped fleeing once he found safety.

  “How noble is the steed who leaves his master to fend for himself at the first sign of danger?” Maelich chuckled as he scratched the animal behind the ear.

  He couldn’t really blame the horse for fleeing. Given the opportunity, he would have escaped too. However, sitting in the warm sun finally removed from the terror of that dark place, he was fairly certain he would not have left his companion behind. Even still, Maelich couldn’t be mad at Validus. The way the horse nuzzled closer into his chest almost seemed an apology.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Maelich said as he patted the animal’s neck. “Thank you for waiting around for me. What say we get back to our journey?”

  Maelich stretched two days of sleep out of his muscles as he stood and surveyed the foreign land surrounding him. The trees were the first thing he noticed. There were no pines, oaks, or willows. The trees in this place were like nothing he’d ever seen. The trunks were thin, smooth, and tall. They didn’t appear to have any branches, just leaves, but those were fat and long, stretching out and drooping toward the ground. There was no uniformity. They grew haphazardly, a small clump of trees here and another there. It was nothing like a proper forest with tree upon tree.