Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  The warmth of the sun on Maelich’s face as he looked up toward the top of one of those trees brought an unconscious smile to his face. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. The air was sweet, like the perfume of wildflowers in the prairie but not quite the same. Maelich closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths in, reveling in the new smells.

  When he opened his eyes back up, he finally noticed all the colors. The ground was alive with them, flowers of the most vibrant purples, yellows, and oranges. The petals of some looked sharp like brightly colored daggers standing tall and ready to strike, while others looked softer, almost droopy, as if they were bowing. Filling in the empty spaces between the trees and the flowers was all manner of greenery mimicking the differences in the flowers’ petals with their leaves. Snaking around all of it and tangling among themselves were thick vines laden with fruit. To Maelich it all swirled into a picture of chaotic beauty.

  There was no path or anything to suggest which direction he should take, so Maelich walked. Trying to ride Validus through the plant life would have proved a fruitless effort, so he guided the horse instead. The going was slow. There was no rhyme or reason to the trees. Everything was so perfectly random. Things in this place seemed to grow wherever they could find a little room and a little light. Somehow, it didn’t bother him that he had to go on foot. He liked this place. The tranquility of it helped ease his mind against the lingering memories of the forest.

  The days passed slowly as they walked along, mindful of the life surrounding them. It would be a shame to trample such chaotic perfection under the weight of hurried feet. On top of that, the peacefulness of the place was such a dramatic shift from the sheer weight of the forest it seemed a waste not to soak it in and revel in it. Everything about the place was like a peaceful dream.

  By the time Maelich spied a lake he had long lost track of time. How often had they slumbered under the moonlight to wake and walk in glorious sunshine? By this point, he didn’t much care. He was looking for a lake, and he had found one. It seemed out of place surrounded by the chaos of the trees and plants and vines. There was nothing chaotic about it. In fact, it was a perfect circle, a small bit of order sitting in contrast to the land surrounding it. Approximately two miles in diameter, it was surrounded by another perfect circle of golden sand roughly fifteen feet wide. The trees and plants stopped abruptly at the edge of the sand.

  Maelich walked up to the edge of the water and peered in. It was clear and perfectly still, but he couldn’t see the bottom. As he peered down into the bottomless void, it occurred to him he couldn’t see his own reflection in it. It should have been like a mirror reflecting him and the sky above, but there was only darkness.

  Directly across the lake from Maelich, a rocky hill jutted up from the ground. The sand beneath his feet terminated in that spot on either side as if the small peak were a gemstone encrusted onto the ring formed by the sand. As he examined the formation, he noticed an opening in the stone. Something tugged on his consciousness in that instant. His destiny was buried somewhere in a cave underneath that rock.

  Maelich skirted quickly around the left side of the lake, racing toward his destiny. As he advanced on the cave, the voiceless cries of the forest returned. The closer he got to the place, the louder they became. Their increasingly passionate shouts seemed a warning, but to what he couldn’t tell. The cries were muddled and confused, drowning each other out as they vied for his attention.

  An icy breeze greeted him when he reached the mouth of the cave. The cold seemed odd for the home of the last member of the race of fire. He expected flames and sweaty stone. He drew his cloak up around his neck and entered slowly. The darkness was almost immediate as if it were too strong a force for any light from outside to penetrate the opening. Maelich stuck close to the wall as he walked a path leading downward and veering right. The idea of leaving some markings to find his way back fled from his mind as quickly as it had come. He would never be able to see any markings he may leave. Luckily, there weren’t any forks, just one path leading ever downward.

  The further Maelich ventured, the colder and darker the place became. Shivering against the chill winds, he pulled his cloak up tighter and drew his sword. The sword began to glow as he slowly let the fire come. As the blade grew brighter, the air grew warmer and the darkness fled its brilliance. Stalactites and stalagmites cast long shadows against the cave’s walls and floor. Soon, his sword burned bright and strong with the strength of his flame giving him a clear view of the massive cavern into which he descended.

  “I’ll need to be strong,” he gasped, some small part of him expecting a response.

  There wasn’t one, of course. He was quite alone. Even Validus had trotted off to explore the majesty of that wonderful place they had spent days strolling through. If only he could abandon this quest, find his horse, and bask in the warm sun. That would be a life, no duty, no responsibility, just living, exploring an untamed land, sampling the plump sweet fruits that seemed to grow everywhere, just peace. Sadly, that wasn’t his lot. His destiny lay coiled somewhere deep in this cave waiting to strike and challenge him flame against flame.

  As Maelich trudged along toward his glorious victory or miserable, fiery defeat, it occurred to him the voices from the forest had ceased their cries. They were replaced by a silence, massive, overbearing, and complete. So complete was this quiet, it almost had weight as if it were a tangible, physical thing. Maelich paused and listened to the silence. He strained against it, searching for something among the nothing. Finally, there was something. It was steady, bloop…bloop…bloop.

  “A sound like that could drive a man insane,” he said, again to no one.

  The drips increased in volume as Maelich continued down the trail. They remained steady, bloop…bloop…bloop, as the great cavern grew smaller and the walls around Maelich closed in. There was barely enough room for him to stand upright when he finally found the source of the dripping sound. It was a strange little pool off to his right side. The pool itself wasn’t unique. It was just a pool. The remarkable thing about it was it appeared to be on the ceiling of the cave rather than its floor where a pool should be. Even more remarkable was the bloop…bloop…bloop was the sound of water dripping from the floor of the cave into the pool on the ceiling. It would have been strange enough if the pool itself managed to remain on the ceiling while slowly dripping its contents onto the floor.

  Avoiding the upside-down water dripping into it, Maelich shook off the awe and crouched beneath the pool. Gazing up into it, he saw his reflection staring back at him looking haggard and rough from the road. As he stared at himself, his image began to morph and redden. His features lengthened as his skin grew leathery and red. It continued like that, redder and rougher until a dragon stared back at him. The reflection mimicked his every move and mocked every face he made. He reached his hand up to the pool and disturbed the water there. Both the image and his reflection disappeared in the ripples. When the surface of the water calmed again there was fire.

  Deep within the pool, as far as Maelich could see, a perfect circle of flames swirled slowly around its perimeter. Its movements were precise, slowly gaining speed but remaining perfectly uniform. The faster it moved, the more Maelich felt the pull. It was drawing him in. He grabbed for the top of a stalagmite, but the pull was too strong. It had him. His feet left the ground, his head broke the surface of the water, and he was sucked in.

  Falling, spinning, tumbling, he cried out. His eyes told him he was going up, but his body assured him he was falling fast. His speed increased, decreased, and increased again. First darkness surrounded him, then light. He was burning and then freezing. He was soaking and then parched. For every extreme, there was an opposite extreme. His senses reeled as he raced upward, still feeling like he was plummeting down.

  Finally, he stopped. There was no hard landing, just an abrupt halt to his movement. Lying prone, he was surrounded again by darkness. An instant later there was light, brilliant lig
ht. It had no source yet surrounded him. There were no walls around him, no ceiling, no beginning and no end, just light. Beneath him was water, deep water. Though he lay upon it, he didn’t break the surface. Straining to look over his shoulder, he gazed into it and found no bottom.

  From the depths, a shape approached. Maelich leapt to his feet, still brandishing his sword. The glow had gone, but his blade was ready. As the shape neared the surface, the dragon’s features grew increasingly clearer. The thing was immense, seeming to grow larger and larger as it approached. Maelich stumbled backward when the massive thing burst forth from the water, bracing himself against the massive wave. The mighty splash never happened. The surface of the water remained undisturbed as the entire length of the dragon passed through it.

  The fire-red dragon soared high above, stretching its wings as it reached its apex. The thing was massive, far bigger than Maelich had imagined. Its wings must have spanned more than one hundred feet from tip to tip. The beast had a head the size of a small hut that consisted mostly of jaws filled with dagger-like teeth. The neck holding that giant head up was long and thin but rippled with wiry muscle. At the other end of that thin neck was a colossal body, somewhat round but solid. Powerful, squat legs curled up underneath it while thinner arms hung loosely at its front. A thick tail finished the monster, ending in a sharp point.

  The gigantic creature hovered there for a moment high above Maelich’s head and then dove at him, speeding like a red arrow slicing through the air. Maelich leapt backward to avoid being crushed under the thing or plunged deep into the water beneath his feet. The move proved unnecessary, as the beast stopped just above the water’s surface and gently touched down upon it. Then it sat motionless on its legs staring at him with eyes burning the same fire red as its skin.

  Maelich’s heart pounded against his chest as he lost control of his breathing, gasping for air like a man running for his life. Focusing within himself, he searched for the fire. It wouldn’t come. Fear had him all bound up and confused. He couldn’t focus his energy. Instead he raised his sword toward the monster.

  The dragon merely smiled at the gesture and softly said, “Maelich, you are terribly frightened. What are you afraid of?”

  All he could do was stammer about like an oaf, “I…um…ah…”

  “You have nothing to fear, my child. I will not harm you,” the dragon added in just as soft and feminine a tone.

  Maelich finally found his voice, “Bind your tongue, beast. I’ve been warned of your wiles. You know my name, so I must assume you know why I am here.”

  Maelich did his best to stand tall and appear fearless before the monster, but it was all a ruse. His soul cried out with fear. One breath from the giant could fill the cavern with fire. Would he burn? Of course, Brerto had told him time and again during training it was an impossibility. The old wizard had even gone so far as to have him create fire and stand within it. But that fire was his own. What if the dragon’s fire were different somehow? It was too late for second guessing. The beast was before him, and nothing could turn him away from his destiny. His eyes began to glow a dull red.

  “I know why you think you are here. I also know your true purpose. Search your soul and your heart. Can you not feel it? Listen to the lost ones. Focus on their cries one at a time. Let them come through,” the beast continued the ruse speaking with an undeniable feminine vulnerability.

  “What is your name, beast?” Maelich asked, refusing to be fooled.

  “I am Helias, but I believe you know that already. Why do you ask me questions for which you already know the answers? I know you are struggling with your task, but deep down you know what is right. You know who I am. Why do you fight it so?” the dragon persisted.

  He shook his head, “No. You are the king of lies. How do you presume to hide your hideous form behind the soft, reassuring voice of a woman? Do you think a soft voice and pleasant words can trick me from my task? I am here to extinguish your fire. That is what I know.”

  Maelich finally squashed his fear and let the fire come. It swirled about him as his sword glowed ever brighter. Standing tall, he was ready to cut the dragon down and end its reign of terror over the land.

  Tears filled her eyes, “It seems they have trained a killer. If you will not look inside yourself and seek the truth, you will destroy me. You have that power just as I do. However, you also harbor enough hate to wield it. That is something I could never do. You must know when you murder me, you destroy innocence and everything else with it.”

  “Enough tricks, beast,” Maelich demanded. “I have been warned of your wiles. You’d have me believe you helpless and let my guard down. That will not happen. You will fight me, or you will die in the same flame with which you would burn this world.”

  The dragon closed its eyes and wept as Maelich advanced.

  He paused and asked, “Why won’t you fight me? Are you a coward wary of a fair battle, useless without a horde of angry dragons at your back?”

  Helias shook her head, “I cannot. Can you not see past the fear and hatred they taught you? I know what is at stake. You do as well. You just refuse to see it. Your entire life has been filled with questions for which you have been refused answers. Here are those answers standing right before you begging to be heard, yet you reject and deny them. Are you merely a man? You come breathing fire, masquerading as a dragon. Dragon’s do not kill, Maelich. We only know love.”

  Their eyes locked. Maelich tried desperately to look away, but he was trapped in the beast’s gaze. This was it. He braced for the attack, but it didn’t come. Instead, scenes began flashing before his eyes and filling his head. Were they lies? They had to be. Massive dragons fled from men, even cowering before them. Armies of men marched, relentless killers mercilessly stalking their prey. Helpless dragons cried out as swords, spears, and arrows pierced their skins. A river of blood flowed down a mountain of carcasses. Each scene more violent and horrifying than the last. It became like a sport, murderers growing more efficient and creative with each slaughter.

  Finally, the carnage stopped. Still, Maelich remained locked in the dragon’s stare. More images flashed before him. Wild looking men cheered as they paraded around towns of cheering people with carcasses held aloft on stakes. The heads of terrified dragons were lopped off and impaled on spears as trophies. Then the last image, a dragon flying amid flaming arrows, it was Helias. He recognized the dragon before him as she darted and dodged. Despite her efforts, her body was riddled with arrows. She plummeted. Spears flew at her as she desperately clawed at the ground trying in vain to escape. The men who would have killed her were nearly upon her when another band of warriors came to her aid. These defenders numbered few, but they fought with such determination and purpose they pushed the horde back. They were protecting the fallen dragon.

  Maelich’s flame had faded slightly by the time he asked, “Why do you show me only parts of stories? Why do you hide the beginnings where dragons destroy towns, burn men alive, and even eat them? The fate of your kind was sealed by their own actions. Now you use these half-truths to protect your own hide. You cower before me like a scrod, pathetic.”

  Though Maelich’s words were fierce, his mind grew riddled with doubt. She was trying to deceive him. No, that was all wrong. He was trying to deceive him. She was confusing him, enchanting him. He didn’t know what to believe. Why wouldn’t she fight? He could release his flame or plunge his blade into her heart. She cowered before him begging not to be killed.

  “Damn,” Maelich muttered quietly, as he shook his head and turned around.

  There it was. That was the mistake. The wily beast had waited for just the right moment to attack. Maelich’s fire returned in a blaze as he quickly spun to face the dragon. She hadn’t moved.

  “Why won’t you listen?” she cried. “I will not, cannot, harm you. Please, Maelich, if you refuse to listen to me, listen to your own heart. Do not let your human mind drown out its shouts. Can you not here the call?”

&n
bsp; He raised his sword and advanced, “All I hear are the lies of a vile demon. My path is clear. Nothing you say can hide it from me.”

  Chapter 26

  The Fallon and the Dragon

  The hour was late when Ymitoth finally decided to turn in for the night. He had just returned from a trip to Alhouim. Each year since the fall of Ahm, Alhouim hosted a celebration to commemorate Maelich’s bravery in defeating the giant. It was a celebration of the return of their great house. The festivities lasted a week and were filled with music, dancing, plays, and parades. They even staged a reenactment of the battle. It was great fun for Ymitoth. He looked forward to it all year long but was always exhausted upon returning to his throne. The effort was well worth the weariness. Alhouim and Havenstahl had once again become strong allies. The great friendship and trade between the two cities had been rekindled.

  As soon as Ymitoth entered his room, his weariness fled. The room was completely dark, but he could sense a presence. He quickly produced a flint and lit a candle. His room looked like it always did. Nothing was out of place.

  Then a deep and commanding voice from behind him said, “Ymitoth, king of Havenstahl, mentor of the lad of the Lake, your lord beckons you.”

  He slowly turned toward the voice. The flickering light from his candle danced eerily across three men in drab cloaks. Quickly bowing to one knee, he stuttered, “Milord, I be unworthy of your presence. I beg ye, heal me with your words.”

  Ymitoth shook with fear as he cowered on the cold stone. It had been thirteen years since his lord had addressed him through these priests, but it was as if it had happened only yesterday. Kallum had called him a scrod and choked him. Those words still stung. What had he done this time to displease his lord? Worse, what had Maelich done? Did Kallum send the priests to inform him Maelich had failed? Would the prophecy remain unfulfilled?