Cialia turned slowly from the window, stifling her own fears and worries to display a calm demeanor. Any appearance of tension would only add to her mother’s fears, “I do not feel him, mother. I have been searching, but I cannot find him. Try not to worry though. His life has been quite tense of late. There is much that he has been tending, and then he suffered such a loss. You know how much Ymitoth meant to him. Perhaps he needed a break from the demands of his followers, some time to himself to work through the pain he is feeling. For five summers he has toiled day and night writing the words of Coeptus so the people might have peace. Perhaps he has worn himself thin and needs some time to forget the people and focus on himself.”
Leisha waved her hand in the air and scoffed, “Indeed. That explanation might serve if not for the fact that many saw Maelich leave the city with Ymitoth’s lifeless body.” She shook her head quickly, “Yes, he is taking the loss of Ymitoth very hard. That part is true. However, the idea that his absence is nothing but a bit of frolic after some hard work is completely ridiculous.”
Realizing her mother wouldn’t be swayed, Cialia gave in, “I share your fears, mother. I too am worried for Maelich. I have focused my mind intently on him since his departure, but still I have found nothing. I do not know where he has gone or why.”
Leisha’s eyes darted around the room, widening as they settled on the packs on the bed, “Now you mean to leave as well? Where are you going?”
“I mean to enlist the help of Helias. I would call her with my mind, but I fear it is too muddled with concern for Maelich to effectively communicate my message. I feel I must go to her. Perhaps the great mother will have a solution to our problem. Perhaps Maelich has spoken to her or even gone to her. I believe she is our only hope.”
“Ymitoth is dead, and Maelich has vanished. If you leave, who will protect the city? I have heard rumors about dead-eyed men. In fact, I hear dead-eyed men—the likes of which attacked Druindahl—are to blame for Ymitoth’s passing. Havenstahl is vulnerable. Who will be her champion if you leave?”
Cialia sighed, “Mother, Havenstahl still boasts the mightiest army on Ouloos, and father is the greatest general to ever live. Havenstahl is well protected even in my absence. We need to find Maelich. Nothing is more important at this moment.”
Leisha conceded, “So be it. If you must go, then go. Be swift though, daughter. The people of this city need you as much as they need your brother.”
“I will,” she forced a smile. With that, Cialia grabbed her pack from the bed, kissed Leisha’s cheek, and hurried from the room.
Purity was saddled and ready when Cialia arrived at the stable. She mounted and was off, urging the horse on with her will. By the time they reached the front gate, Purity was at a full gallop. They charged down into the valley, Cialia pushing the mare harder and harder. Images of the Lake filled her mind, visions as clear as if her eyes were seeing them. Dragons gracefully swam the air around the perfect circle of still water. They swooped and soared in all their glorious majesty. Cialia expanded and lightened as the elements bent to her every whim. It wasn’t long before she and Purity were one with the wind, a streak of white light, a blur racing on the currents in the air.
chapter 9
perplexed
Moshat sat tense upon his throne, deep in a trance. His eyes darted about beneath his lids as if taken by dreams. Kaldumahn wasn’t fooled by the illusion. He knew Moshat’s conscious mind was hard at work. He considered his brother’s mock slumber, ‘Where are you off to now, brother?’ Kaldumahn had recently risen from a similar state expecting a torrent of questions from Moshat. Sadly, their counsel would have to wait. The need was almost strong enough to disturb his brother’s contemplation. Luckily the need vanished. As Kaldumahn scrutinized him, Moshat inhaled deeply through his nose and his eyes snapped open.
Kaldumahn’s brows dipped toward his nose as he raised his head slightly and asked, “Have you learned much, Moshat?”
“I have,” he replied and then added, “Sadly, much of what I learned is merely knowledge of what I cannot learn.”
Kaldumahn humphed, “Riddles, Moshat? Why must you speak to me in riddles? What have you learned that you cannot learn?”
Moshat’s eyes rolled as he turned toward Kaldumahn, “You fancy riddles, Kaldumahn, and you never tire of speaking them to me. You are impatient and nervous. That is why you accost me now. Furthermore, the words I spoke to you hardly make for a riddle. I learned nothing of what I sought to discover.”
Kaldumahn sighed, “What did you seek to discover, dear brother?”
“Well, the whereabouts of fair Maelich of course,” he replied. “You had the benefit of an audience with him in the Sobbing Forest. Sadly, I have not had the pleasure of speaking with him.”
“You could have asked me about it.”
“And you could have told me you intended to pay him a visit.”
Kaldumahn shook his head, “You are correct, Moshat. I could have told you my plans. I did not. I am sorry. What have you learned of Maelich’s whereabouts? He has proven elusive since I encountered him in the forest.”
“Aha,” Moshat exclaimed. “Therein lies the riddle. You see, his whereabouts are not. He simply is not. He is nowhere. It is as if he ceased to exist altogether.”
Kaldumahn stroked his chin, “Well he has to be somewhere. Had he died, we would have felt it.”
“I suppose so,” Moshat agreed. “Yet, he is nowhere to be found.”
“Interesting,” Kaldumahn continued to stroke his chin.
“There is more,” Moshat leaned toward Kaldumahn as he spoke. “Ymitoth, the great warrior who trained the lad of the Lake, has died.”
“Yes,” Kaldumahn agreed. “Yes he has. I felt great angst from Maelich when it happened. I decided not to pry. My thoughts were elsewhere. Perhaps I should have looked deeper.”
“Perhaps,” Moshat raised his eyes slightly.
“Did you?”
“I did.”
“What did you find?”
“Immediately after Maelich’s great outpouring of sorrow, he was gone,” Moshat’s eyes narrowed. “That is when he seemed to vanish.”
Kaldumahn shrugged, “He discovered a means to block us. Your riddle is solved.”
“Precisely,” Moshat grinned. “Why, though? Now that is the real riddle.”
“Yes,” Kaldumahn sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Moshat’s grin widened as he continued, “We should have destroyed him when he was a child. I told you he would become far too difficult to control. He is still too much of a man.”
Kaldumahn shook his head, “No. Maelich was the key to ending Kallum. He is the key to everything.”
“He is,” Moshat agreed. “He is the key to salvation or destruction. Which of those becomes the fate of Ouloos is completely up to him.”
“Exactly,” Kaldumahn sighed again. “That is why we must guide him to the correct destination.”
Moshat’s grin sank to something more somber, “How? How do we guide him when we cannot find him? He has gained enough mastery over his mind and this world to block us from discovering his comings and goings. Maelich is far beyond our control.”
Kaldumahn shrugged, “The man in him has just suffered a devastating blow. He must digest it and move past it. We must give him time to do that. We must give him time to mourn. We must have faith in him.”
“Bah,” Moshat spat. “The luxury of time is something we currently lack. The subject you have not touched is the return of the three. You know of Ymitoth’s demise. I am certain you have felt their return.”
“Yes,” Kaldumahn agreed. “I have felt their return. That is another riddle we must solve.”
“It would appear the lad was unsuccessful in destroying Kallum,” Moshat replied.
“Perhaps,” Kaldumahn spoke slowly as his mind worked, “or perhaps another wishes to disguise their own comings and goings and lay the blame at the feet of a scattered god. Any of us; you, me, Brerto, Iji
lv, any of us could do the same thing.”
“But would we?” Moshat asked. “Perhaps Brerto, but Ijilv was crucial in aiding Maelich against Kallum.”
Kaldumahn rubbed his forehead with the index finger and thumb of his left hand, “We would not, no. Brerto would, but he is who I have been watching. I have been watching him closely. He is across the Great Sea raising an army of giants and trogmortem while his emissaries gather grongs together in the valley. His mind is clear. He means to march on the greatest city of men. He means to march on Havenstahl.”
“What? Why do you wait to mention such things?”
“I have only just discovered them, and you desired to riddle me about Maelich.”
“We must prepare them for battle.”
“Yes,” Kaldumahn agreed. “Yes we must.”
chapter 10
fishing
Maelich woke to pokes, prods, and Ymitoth’s voice, “Get off your lazy tail, lad. The fish be biting in the morn.”
“What?” Maelich asked as he rolled over and rubbed is eyes. “It is so dark still. It cannot yet be time to rise.”
“Aye it be,” Ymitoth responded with a chuckle. “Ye been doing so well with your sword, I be thinking a day of rest might be in order. I strung up some poles. We be chasing chookers in Yester’s Pond this morn.”
“Fishing? I have not been fishing in ages! We shall catch ourselves a grand feast today,” Maelich boomed as he leapt from his cot. Then he paused, cocked his head to the side, looked into his father’s black, dead eyes, and added, “You rose before me.”
“Aye laddy,” Ymitoth agreed. “Aye, I did. With all of that snoring ye been doing, ye might of slept the whole day away.”
Maelich smiled, “Yes, I suppose I would have.”
Ymitoth shrugged, turned, and began packing two bags for the short trip to Yester’s Pond. While Maelich watched him move, his mind puzzled over the idea of Ymitoth rising before him. Maelich had fallen deep into the fantasy of his father still existing among the living, not so far however, that he didn’t realize the weight of this concept. He was in complete control of Ymitoth’s every move and action. Obviously, since he had been sleeping, he had not consciously willed Ymitoth to rise and begin preparations for a day of fishing.
Ymitoth finished filling the packs with some bread, dried meat, and ale, then turned and said, “Have ye wiped all of the sleep out of your eyes, lad?”
Maelich started a bit and replied, “Yes, yes father. Yes I have.”
“Well don’t just be standing there watching while I be doing all of the work,” he said as he shook his head and handed one of the sacks to Maelich. “Let’s get to moving. That sun, she’ll be on the rise before ye know it, and I want to have me pole in that pond long before she does.”
“Right, sorry father,” Maelich was still turning the strange idea over in his head, examining it from every angle.
Ymitoth grinned, grabbed the torch that was burning next to the fireplace off of the wall, and said, “Grab your pole, sleepyhead.” Then he turned toward the door and pounded out of the hut.
Maelich grabbed the pole that remained and followed Ymitoth out. The chill morning air helped wake him up a bit more as a brisk easterly wind tossed his hair about. After a few moments and a brisk walk, both men were standing at the shore of Yester’s pond fumbling around the torchlight and looking for the perfect spot to sit and catch fish. Finally, both of them found suitable spots for their rumps. Maelich sat perched upon a wide, flat stump while Ymitoth lounged on a large boulder that the elements had smoothed out and rounded off over the years.
Once he was comfortably situated, Maelich whispered, “Did you bring any bait?”
Ymitoth humphed quietly under his breath, “Did I bring any bait? Aye lad, I got lots of bait.” Then he reached into his sack, pulled out two cans, and added, “This can here be full of corn.” He raised the can in his left hand and nodded at it. Then he repeated the gesture with the can in his right hand and said, “And this can here be full of worms, long, thick, juicy ones, the kind the chooker be going crazy for.”
“Perfect,” Maelich smiled as he grabbed a worm, ripped a hunk off, and fashioned it onto his hook.
Chooker weren’t the best fish for eating, a hair on the greasy side. They grew big in Yester’s Pond though, and Ymitoth had a knack for preparing them. He would boil vegetables—usually corn, carrots, potatoes, and onions—until they were soft. While that was happening, he would rub the chooker with wild zaga leaves—the zaga leaves gave the fish a smoky flavor—and cook them directly over the flame. Once the fish were well roasted, he would stir them into the boiling vegetables. Then he would drain off the excess water, give the whole concoction a healthy dose of salt, and serve it with some bread and ale. It had been years since Maelich had a nice bowl of chooker stew.
As the two men sat with their lines in the water waiting for a bite, Maelich puzzled over what the morning’s happenings could mean. He stole a glance over at the man he had grown to know as his father. That man wasn’t in there anymore. He knew that. The fact managed to be forgotten sometimes, but when he gave it cognizant thought, he knew it. This though, Ymitoth rising and doing things seemingly of his own volition, this seemed outside the realm of possibility.
“Ye got a bite there, lad,” Ymitoth whispered as he leaned toward Maelich and nudged his shoulder.
Maelich jumped, startled out of his trance, and felt a strong tugging on his line. “You’re right, father. I do,” he replied as he gave his line a good tug and grabbed hold of the handle of his spindle. “It feels like a big one too!”
“Don’t be giving her too much line to work with, lad,” Ymitoth coached. “Chooker be smart, as far as fish go. She’ll drag your line down and wind it around the reeds, leave you with nothing but some broken wire to show for your trouble.”
“I know. I know,” Maelich grumbled back. “I have her,” he added as he tugged again on his pole and started turning the spindle toward himself to reel the fish in.
“Oh well, aren’t ye the great fisherman then,” Ymitoth mocked. “I suppose ye’ll be showing me a thing or two about landing a…” Ymitoth paused for a moment before adding with excitement in his voice, “I got one too, lad. She feels like a biggie!”
As the two men struggled with their respective fish, all thoughts of the queerness of the morning drifted from Maelich’s mind. The fish, the fight, the pole in his hand, the pond, the sun just barely breaking the horizon, the smell of damp earth, and his father standing next to him pole in hand were all that mattered. The rest of the world could float away unnoticed. Everything that meant anything to Maelich at that moment was wrapped up in a boy and his father chasing chooker in Yester’s Pond.
chapter 11
new life
“Now, now dear,” Chimarra spoke in a soft tone that didn’t match her rough exterior. The gray hair tossed haphazardly about her head and shoulders was streaked with sweat and continuously falling down in front of her eyes. She brushed it back again to reveal heavy wrinkles, deep set, dark eyes, a large hooked nose, and drooping jowls that hung almost even with her slight chin. “The future king be on his way dear,” she added as she rubbed Perrin’s back.
Perrin moaned, “Oh Chimarra, he be ripping me in two!” She sat upright in her bed, shaking, moaning, and occasionally screaming out as Chimarra sat beside her, helping her remain upright and continuing to rub her back. “Where be Maelich? Where be me love? I be bringing his heir into this world and he be nowhere to be found.”
“Aye lass,” Chimarra whispered. “He’ll be found. Ye just focus on the task at hand. Ye be bringing a prince that will one day be king into this world. That be serious work, milady. Ye need to bring your head back in this room and let your love worry about where he be getting himself off to.”
Perrin tensed up and moaned something that might have been a scream if it weren’t so deep and throaty. The muscles all about her abdomen and back flexed uncontrollably. “Oh Chimarra,” she
groaned. “Get this child out of me.”
Perrin’s eyes followed Chimarra’s finger as the midwife pointed to a plain girl with dark hair and bright eyes soaking cloths in a large marble basin by the window and said, “Meelah, bring a cloth and take me place here next to the princess.”
“Yes, Chimarra,” Meelah replied as she hurried over.
Once Meelah was in place, Chimarra moved to the bottom of the bed and tossed the wet cloth Meelah had handed her in favor of a dry one. Then she rested her right hand on Perrin’s left knee and said, “Push with the pain now, dear. When ye feel your belly tightening up again, push with all your might. It be time. I be looking at the top of your son’s wee head right now. He’s got some hair this one.”
It was a few moments before Perrin tightened up again. She squeezed Meelah’s hand and said, “Here it comes again.”
“Push with the pain, love,” Chimarra responded. “Ye be doing a fine job. Push with all your might. Imagine holding your beautiful, wee lad in your arms. He be almost among us.”
Perrin pushed as hard as she could for what felt like eternity. Finally, she had nothing left, “Oh I can’t, I can’t. I can’t push anymore. It hurts.”
“No, no lass,” Chimarra encouraged her. “Don’t be giving up on me now. His whole head almost be out. Give me one more good push.”
“I can’t,” Perrin whined.
“Sure ye can, ye’re the Queen of Havenstahl now,” Chimarra assured her. “Ye be a powerful woman. There be nothing ye can’t do. Come now, lass, one more push.”
Perrin tensed up again, pushing against all of the pressure and pain. Her teeth clenched tight as her nails dug into Meelah’s hand. All of her will focused on pushing her son into the world. Another groan left her lips among a good bit of spittle. Then there was relief. The pressure was gone. The tension slowly slipped away, and Meelah helped her lie back on her pillow. All that was left was a dull ache between her legs.
Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2) Page 6