Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1)

by E. Michael Mettille

  As they soared through the water, Maelich’s head filled with images and emotions, gifts from Cialia. He watched her whole life unfold before his eyes. Daritus had trained her to be a warrior—just as Ymitoth had trained him—and, based on what he saw, she was at least his equal with a sword. Then he saw his mother’s face. The water surrounding him was a great blessing. It hid the tears. Cialia’s gift, these images, these memories of a mother he never got to know, were at once both wonderful and terrible. The pride in those loving eyes and that caring smile had been given to Cialia. He yearned to have her loving, proud looks for himself. Still, these gifts were real. Tangible memories to replace the imaginary ones he had concocted throughout his life.

  Maelich was still deep in borrowed memories when he and Helias burst forth from the Lake of Dragons without so much as a splash. The fresh air blasting his face quickly brought him back to the moment. Helias’ mighty wings lifted them high above the trees of The Lost Forest. Looking down upon that dark place and remembering the pain of their sad songs filled him with purpose. They needed him. He was their champion.

  Looking back over his shoulder, the place where the maps don’t go stretched as far as he could see. Trees and rivers gave way to dry, cracked land. He couldn’t imagine what might lie beyond that. There weren’t even stories about that place. It was farther than Maelich had ever been, and he’d never met anyone who knew more about it than it was the place where the maps don’t go.

  As Helias carried Maelich higher and higher, racing closer to The Forgotten Forest and Druindahl with every moment, the old man who had counseled Maelich on his way to face the Dragon was in the throes of quite a fit. He shook with rage, stomping about as he cursed Maelich’s name.

  “Impetuous bastard of a man!” the old man shouted at the ceiling, spit flying from his mouth and frothing about the edges of it. “I should have known he’d end in failure. Humans are so pathetic and unpredictable.” Pounding both his fists upon his table, he raged on, “After all I’ve done for him, showing him the way and giving him his power, he repays me by joining that demon of a witch.”

  He continued stomping about as his skin reddened. His face twisted in an expression of hatred, rage, fear, and hurt in equal parts. He grew. His body expanded in all directions until he filled his small hut. The walls and ceiling creaked and groaned under the pressure until they finally gave way. The hut erupted.

  An explosion off to Maelich’s left snatched his attention. There he saw the eagle—giant, powerful, and golden—quickly gaining altitude among the debris that used to be a hut. The great beast was still a good distance away, but Maelich could see the thing’s eyes as if they were right before his face. They were black and dead, just like the eyes of Kallum’s priests.

  As Maelich stared in awe at those horrible eyes of a god, he could almost feel the rage radiating from them. Then the wind, with one mighty flap of wings even greater than the Dragon’s, Maelich was struggling to hold on. Latching even tighter onto Helias’ neck, it took everything he had to keep from toppling. So strong was that wind, it tossed the Dragon off course, careening through the wide open.

  “Kallum,” Helias cried, “the eagle is upon us.”

  Kallum, the great eagle, god of gods, no matter what name one used to describe him, he was awesome to behold. Soaring, racing, straight up into the bright blue, he quickly elevated himself far past where any eye could behold him. He didn’t remain out of sight for long. Within moments, he dove down at his prey with sharp talons aching to taste flesh. He moved so quickly he nearly blasted right through them.

  A bit of a stranger to wide open skies of late—she’d been hiding under the Lake of Dragons for more hundreds of years than she could number—Helias dodged right and narrowly avoided the assault. She had nary a moment to steady herself before she was spinning out of control with Maelich holding on for dear life. The great eagle’s velocity had been so great, and carried such a current, she was sucked into the wake.

  Despite his struggles to maintain a grip on his mount, Maelich had focused his thoughts within. His breathing had grown steady. It was time to let the fire come. Too late. Thrown from Helias back, he plummeted toward the trees. Toppling end over end and falling faster and faster, he cried out.

  Meanwhile, both Kallum and Helias had recovered from their near collision, and both circled around for another pass. The eagle exploded toward Maelich a mere breath before the Dragon. He was faster, but she was closer. Despite her advantage in distance, the eagle was simply too fast, easily doubling Helias’ speed. She would never make it in time.

  Maelich’s helpless body flailed as he plunged. After all he had been through, the crown at the top of his failure would be his broken carcass splattered among the trees of The Lost Forest. The chill winds blasting him as he fell did more than simply cause his cloak to flap madly all about and behind him. They also had his body quite numb. His skin was as ice as he trembled. He fought to gain control of his mind, to let the fire come. He couldn’t. Panic squeezed him like giant fingers balling up into a fist around him. Simply sucking air into his lungs was battle enough. His body turned again, and his back was to the trees below him. Above him, the eagle bore down with sharp talons outstretched, glinting in the bright sun.

  Then a screech—mighty and terrible like that of the great eagle, but different somehow—ripped through the air, distracting Kallum from his attack. The moment, brief as it was, was just enough to steal the god’s prey. Rather than running the flailing soldier through, he narrowly missed. He barely felt Maelich’s body careen off his own and flop right into Helias.

  The Dragon wasted no time swooping in to snatch Maelich’s tumbling body from the sky. Banking hard to the left, she quickly led them away from the eagle. She stole only enough of a glance to catch sight of the ferocious hawk descending on Kallum like madness on a broken mind.

  “It is Ijilv,” Helias shouted. “The mighty hawk has flown out of the shadows to support our cause.”

  “The hawk is Ijilv, and the eagle is Kallum? But I thought they were gods,” Maelich stammered, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, two massive beasts—gods if Helias were to be believed—tumbling through the sky locked in battle.

  “They are gods,” Helias continued, still trying to find her breath. “They can present themselves in many forms. When a god goes to battle, he will normally present himself as a great beast. That is a bold move for Ijilv. I fear the hawk cannot defeat the eagle on his own.”

  “If another god cannot match his strength, how can I?” Maelich marveled at Kallum’s might as the great eagle battered the failing hawk.

  The mighty hawk suddenly fled, racing across the sky back the way he came. Kallum, in his rage, immediately gave chase. The eagle couldn’t hope to match the hawk’s speed, but that didn’t matter. The slight against him would not go unpunished.

  “You must,” Helias finally replied. Then—noting the chase—added, “It appears you will have some time to work out how.”

  Chapter 28

  War

  Leisha shook as she cradled her daughter in her arms, weeping over her corpse. Daritus knelt beside her rubbing her shoulders and doing his best to console his queen. He had already ordered a few of his guards to dispose of the assassin who had taken his daughter’s life. As customary in Druindahl for traitors—and now spineless assassins—the carcass would be tied to a tree and left for wild scrods of the forest to consume. Daritus damned himself for not being able to save Cialia. How weak were the defenses of Druindahl if a killer could slip in undetected during a time of war? As king and general of Druindahl’s armies, he had failed. He had failed his daughter. He had failed his wife and queen. He had failed himself. He would never make that mistake again. Druindahl would not sit idle and wait for the next attack. She would march out in vengeance and take the battle to her enemies.

  “I will forget what Kaldumahn said!” Leisha’s tearful proclamation ripped Daritus from his own self-loathing. “I will not forgive m
y son for leading the forces of his city and their hatred to our peaceful home. I will not rest until the people of Havenstahl suffer pain equal to my own. None will be forgiven. None will be spared.” She grabbed Daritus’ cloak and pulled him close to her. Spit flew from her mouth, as her sobs became a whisper, almost a hiss. “Take your armies, mount up your soldiers, and attack them. Leave none alive. Trample them under the hooves of your horses. Slay the heartless bas…” Her words were lost amid her wails.

  Daritus held her face close against his chest and caressed her face, “Shh. I have heard your command, my love. They will die on their hands and knees like scrods. I will make them grovel and beg forgiveness. If they flee, I will hunt them to the very ends of Ouloos. They will know no peace forever more. I will avenge our daughter’s death.”

  In the darkness, Daritus called together all able-bodied men and boys. He armed them with swords, clubs, and spears. He sent the archers off into the trees. The riders of Druindahl would take the lead. Behind them the trained swordsman would march. And behind them would be those untrained, tasting their first battle. By daybreak, they were ready to march. The archers would already be hidden at the forest’s edge, waiting to lay down cover for those on the ground.

  Just as the sun broke the horizon, the forces of Havenstahl and Alhouim were formed in columns ready to march on Druindahl. Ymitoth sat astride Rumallah. Despite the steed’s age, he was the only horse Ymitoth would consider riding into battle. He trusted the animal more than any man he had ever met. Ymitoth raised his sword toward the forest as a horn blared behind him. The riders of Havenstahl charged down Edge Mountain toward the forest. The foot soldiers marched behind them.

  At the same instant, a horn answered from within the forest. Arrows from the trees filled the skies. Riders from Havenstahl fell here and there as the charge continued. Within moments, archers atop Edge Mountain returned fire at the trees. Few bodies fell, but the aim of the arrows from the forest had changed to the hilltop. This gave the riders of Havenstahl clear passage to the tree line. Just as they were about to breech the trees, they were met by the riders of Druindahl. The two forces collided, and the battle began.

  The battle at the forest’s edge raged for hours. Many dwarves and many men from each side fell. Neither seemed able to gain an upper hand. Both sides boasted heroic warriors fighting for far more than pride alone, and both sides felt as if they were fighting against evil. As the heat of the battle grew, it expanded into the forest and up the mountain.

  Ymitoth and Daritus battled through the melee and eventually found each other. There was an instant and mutual recognition. Ymitoth realized that when he had Daritus as a prisoner, he had been imprisoning the king of Druindahl. He should have killed him when he had the chance. Instead, he nursed him back to health only to watch him escape. The battle continued around them, but they were both suddenly unaware of all those surrounding them. In their minds, the battlefield was theirs and theirs alone. Daritus raised his sword, aiming it at Ymitoth’s heart.

  “Coward!” He grunted through clenched teeth. “You failed to kill me whilst I was in your clutches, so you send an assassin, a snake to slither into my city and kill my daughter. Now you will taste death, but only after I make you suffer as I have.”

  Ymitoth’s response carried just as much anger, “I know nothing of your daughter. But ye be right about me failure. I should have killed ye when I had the chance. That be a mistake I won’t be repeating.”

  With that the two kings attacked each other. Both were expert in their art. The rest of Ouloos seemed to stand still as they focused on each other. In Daritus’ mind, Ymitoth shared equal blame in Cialia’s death. For Ymitoth, he may as well have been facing the dragon himself. Both felt slaying the other would be a great, heroic feat that would lead toward peace and balance on Ouloos. Neither one proved able to gain an advantage, however. They each matched the other’s attacks perfectly. Their stalemate could have lasted eternity, if not for an explosion which caused them both to pause and look skyward.

  As Maelich approached The Forgotten Forest, he noticed the disturbance going on at the base of Edge Mountain. He told Helias to bring him in closer. As they neared, he realized Druindahl was locked in battle with Havenstahl and even Alhouim. He looked upon the bloody, fallen warriors decorating the hillside. Sorrow filled him. What a waste. All those lives lost for no other reason than differing beliefs. He finally understood how wrong his beliefs had been. How could he stop this? He let the fire come and released it in a great explosion that rocked the forest and hillside below. The battle quickly stopped as all the warriors from both sides looked skyward. Confusion gripped all at the sight of Maelich astride the Dragon.

  Maelich’s voice boomed loud enough that all could hear, “What do you hope to gain through destruction? What truth can you find in the killing of your fellow man? There is but one enemy of Ouloos, and he is not among us on this battlefield.”

  As Maelich spoke, he filled the combatants of both forces with feelings of peace and calm. Swords began falling to the ground as Helias touched down in the center of the battlefield. She was putting a great deal of faith in Maelich’s power, as the soldiers of Havenstahl and Alhouim would like nothing more than to strike her down. Maelich dismounted and walked over to where Ymitoth and Daritus stood.

  Ymitoth spoke first, “What be the meaning of this? Ye come astride the dragon, that vile deceiver. Ye have failed, seduced by the dragon. Ye have fallen.”

  Then Daritus, “You led Kallum and these forces to us. Now Cialia is dead, and you are again lost to your mother. I begged her let me slay you, and she refused. Now she wishes for your head. You are as low as this king claims. You are unwelcomed here, except for slaughter.”

  Maelich knew if he allowed it, either one of these men would run him through. He addressed Daritus first, “Cialia is not dead. She lives on in me. We are one. I felt everything she felt, and I saw the eyes of her murderer as she expired. Please know she does not suffer, and she shares my desire. She wishes peace in this place, and she will help make that peace come to be.”

  He then turned his attention to Ymitoth, “Father…” he began, but Ymitoth cut him off.

  “Don’t be calling me that, ye vile scrod!” Ymitoth hissed. “Me son be dead, slain by the dragon. That is what ye be now, dead to me. Me son would never be serving the likes of that beast. Ye are not me son! I deny ye!”

  Maelich’s expression became resolute, “I understand your anger and all the venom you have for me. It saddens me greatly, but I cannot change it. I am sorry you see me this way, but this is what I must do. It is my destiny. It is Ouloos’ destiny. Kallum lied. He has lied since the beginning of time, and his teachings are all you know. They were all I knew until my eyes were opened. I hope we survive this, and you can someday forgive me. When my task is complete, the truth will be revealed to all, and then you can make your judgment on me. Until then, know you have my love, father, and I have not failed you.”

  “Blasphemy!” Ymitoth shouted. “Ye be a treacherous liar! Kallum be giving us all we have, and ye be trampling on his name! Ye be the most vile, the lowest form of sinner!”

  Ymitoth would have continued his ranting accusations against Maelich, but he was interrupted by a mighty roar. The ground shook and battle-hardened warriors trembled like babes. All looked to the crest of Edge Mountain. Atop it stood a ferocious looking beast, blazing white fur striped with black as deep as Kallum’s dead eyes. Once the monster had everyone’s attention, it roared again. Its open mouth exposed giant fangs the size of a large man. It crouched on all fours. Daritus thought the beast to resemble the lion that had come to him in his dream, but it was different somehow. This beast was angry and full of hate. Its muscles tensed as it prepared to pounce.

  Helias cried out, “It is the tiger, Brerto! Maelich, you must fight!”

  Maelich drew his sword and let the fire come. Brerto launched himself down the hill. He landed on a group of soldiers, impaling some with his claws while
others were crushed under his weight. Spears flew at him but couldn’t penetrate his flesh. They glanced off without effect. He advanced, knocking warriors to the side as he came. Some soldiers retreated into the forest while others attempted to attack the beast. The three cities now fought as one force, as the tiger seemed uninterested in what mark they bore. He killed all he encountered.

  Maelich was all ablaze, as was his sword. He pointed it at Brerto. A burst of flame shot from the end of it hitting the tiger squarely on the snout. The concussion blasted the beast backward up the mountain. Incensed by the attack, the beast raised his front paws high into the air and brought them crashing down upon the ground. It rumbled so violently Maelich was swept off his feet, along with everyone else on the battlefield. Brerto charged.

  Before the tiger was close enough to attack again, Kaldumahn, the lion, burst forth from the forest. The silver lion met the white tiger halfway down the hill. All the soldiers remaining on the battlefield fled into the forest. The two beasts—gods locked in battle—battered each other up and down the hill, slashing and biting at one another. Brerto raised himself up on his back legs and blasted Kaldumahn with his right paw. The lion crashed to the ground. Before he could regain his feet, the tiger was on him. Claws pierced into his back as fangs sunk into the nape of his neck. His roar dripped with pain, as he threw Brerto off. The tiger attacked again, quickly gaining the upper hand. After eons of subjugation serving Kallum, he was finally able to unleash his fury. He let it out on Kaldumahn. His ferocious assault was a great release.

  As Maelich watched, the lion was being ripped to shreds. He fired again, blasting Brerto in the side and sending him sprawling.

  Helias called to him, “Maelich, we must go. It will not be long until Kallum returns. He must be alone when we face him. With Brerto’s aid he would be difficult to destroy.”