Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Cialia walked right up to the edge of the water and turned to her left. She could have willed herself to Helias’s side, but she chose a slow stroll through the sand instead. It was an infrequent pleasure to be so close to the Lake, so close to Helias and the rest of her sisters. Why spoil it with haste? Ymitoth would still be dead, and Maelich would still be missing whether she hurried or not. And if Maelich were found in her absence, it would be all the better. Then there would be no reason to rush at all. She paused to remove her boots and walked with her toes in the sand.

  The slow stroll lasted a little more than three hours. The warmth of the sun, the sweet scent in the air, the cool breeze lifting her hair off of her forehead, the glorious, blazing colors of the flowers all around her, the stillness of the Lake, and the perfect beauty of the Great Mother perched atop her throne all spun together lifting Cialia’s cares away. For that regretfully short journey, nothing else mattered.

  Finally, Cialia stood at the mouth of the cave at the base of the rocky hill Helias rode like a throne, the queen’s throne. She looked up at the glorious mother of all Dragons and said, “Helias, my sister, my queen, Great Mother, I have missed you.”

  “I have missed you as well, my dear,” Helias replied. Her delicate, almost vulnerable voice belied the power she possessed. “I fear you have brought a great burden with you.”

  “Alas, sweet sister, I have. Ymitoth has fallen at the hands of the dead-eyed men, those same men that should have perished with the scattered remains of their god. Yet it was them. There is no mistake. I saw them with my own eyes…” She trailed off and glanced down toward the sand.

  Helias replied, “That is a puzzle. You know you have nothing to fear from them, my love. You have nothing to fear from any man, beast, or otherwise that haunts this world.”

  Cialia lifted her gaze back up, looked the Great Mother in the eyes, and said, “I fear no one.”

  The Great Mother smiled, “You are brave, my dear. Fear is a tricky adversary though. You have no fear for yourself. That fact is more than clear. You are able and there is not one in this world that could best you in battle. However, fear has little to do with might, fair Cialia. When you raise your sword in the defense of your city, it is fear that drives you. When you offer…”

  Cialia interrupted, “Behind my sword is where I am most fearless. An equal to my blade does not exist.”

  The smile remained on Helias’s face as she continued, “You are quite correct, my dear. You have no equal with a blade. Your skill even surpasses that of your fair brother. However, fear for yourself, for your own life, is not of what I speak. The fear troubling your slumber is fear for those who look to you for guidance and protection. Your fear lies with them. You carry many burdens, sweet child. Even in the tranquil peace of my home, I can see the weight pushing you low, bending your back, and forcing down your brow.”

  “You are correct, sweet sister,” Cialia agreed. “I do feel fear. I feel it every day. In Maelich’s absence, it has grown even stronger. Please tell me you have felt him. Tell me he has spoken to you, given you a glimpse. Your power is so great. Surely you have some happy news for me. Good news has been scarce of late.”

  “I felt great pain from Maelich,” she replied. “The pain was so strong, so dark, and so deep it made me weep for him. I carry great sadness for his pain.”

  “Have you searched for him?”

  “Why?”

  Cialia sighed, raised both her arms out to her sides, and shook her head, “The people need him. I know you are the wisest soul on Ouloos, sweet sister. Surely you realize the significance of the presence of dead-eyed men. A dead god has no power. That can mean only one thing.”

  Helias’s tone remained as sweet as spring rain, “A god cannot die, my sweet flower. Kallum was scattered, and he remains scattered. The presence of dead-eyed men simply reveals there is another sinister power as great as that which has been scattered to the wind, and that power wishes to trouble the lives of you and your brother.”

  Cialia’s tone ran in stark contrast to Helias’s, “How can you be certain? Please forgive the doubt, Great Mother. You are the greatest power this world has ever known, but you cannot even find my brother. Perhaps Kallum clouds your vision as Maelich does.”

  “Cialia, your mind is ever full of worry and so focused on what you do not want. How can you clearly imagine what it is you do want? Let go. Despite your belief in me, you and your brother are the greatest powers this world has ever known,” Helias replied. “Once you forget your fears and learn to quiet the doubtful, timid, human part of your mind, you will know truth.”

  Cialia continued, calmer but unable to shake her agitation, “I do not feel powerful right now. The world spins out of control, and it is my duty to protect it.” She paused as a thoughtful look crept onto her face, “Do you think we could find Maelich if we worked together?”

  Helias’s smile remained as she shook her head, “What makes you think Maelich needs finding? Why do you think he is lost? No one stole your brother. He left. He is experiencing great sadness. Yes, he is hiding. The fact in itself illustrates he wishes not to be found.”

  Cialia sighed deeply, “He stole a corpse, Helias. He stole Ymitoth’s corpse. I am afraid for him. His mind must not be his own right now.”

  “His mind, your mind, they are very complex,” Helias assured her. “He is in control of his mind. He has at least enough control to keep you from peering into his thoughts.”

  “And you?” Cialia asked.

  “I have not the cause to search for him,” Helias replied, “but yes, I am certain I would not find him if I tried.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Sleep, dear,” the Great Mother replied. “Your soul is far wearier than even your body. Rest on the sand for a while and let the sweet peace of this place soothe you. Then go back to your people, and do not fear for your brother.”

  Cialia contemplated arguing her point further, but Helias was correct. She was tired, and if Maelich didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. The sand— lacking the course texture the sand of most beaches had—felt soft and warm beneath her as she lay herself down upon it. It was like lying on a thick, soft blanket. Mere moments passed before Cialia was far beyond the reach of Ouloos or any of her troubles.

  chapter 14

  the white horse

  Maelich stood alone in a small clearing surrounded by dense woods, completely unaware of how he arrived there or anything else immediately prior to being there. A thick, milky, white fog covered the clearing up to his waist. He waved his hand back and forth in it. The motion caused swirls and waves as if it were liquid. He walked a few paces toward the trees. The fog didn’t hinder his movement or slow him at all. It just hung there surrounding him. Above him, the trees stretched toward each other forming a canopy allowing only the essence of light through, no rays, merely a faint glow. There was just enough light for Maelich to make out his surroundings which were rather unremarkable. Thick trees crowded so closely together he couldn’t see past the fronts of them. The lake of fog he stood in and the very top of a pointed boulder jutting out of the fog to his left were all he could see.

  He continued on to the edge of the trees and touched one. The bark was smooth and nondescript. It felt like a tree. He slid his hand to the left along the trunk until he reached the dark spot between it and the tree beside it. When his hand reached that place, it stopped. He pushed at it several times, but his hand wouldn’t go any farther. It didn’t feel like there was anything there to stop his movement, but he could not push past the darkness in between the two trunks. It took several attempts before he gave up the effort and stepped back to the center of the clearing to contemplate what to do next.

  “Where am I?” he asked no one.

  A deep—though clear—voice startled him, “You are standing in a dense fog near a large boulder in the center of a clearing in a very dense wood.”

  Maelich stroked his chin and looked around, “Thank you. That wa
s extremely helpful. Although, I had deduced as much with a quick look around. What do they call the dense wood I occupy?”

  “Who?” the voice asked.

  “Who, what?” Maelich asked in return.

  “You asked what they call this place,” the voice replied. “Who are they?”

  A bit of irritation found its way into Maelich’s tone, “Anyone. What does anyone call this place?”

  “Oh,” the voice continued, “this place is not near famous enough to have a name. I guess the answer would be, anyone does not call it anything.”

  Maelich shook his head and began pacing, “Do you know where this is?”

  “Do I know where what is?” The voice asked.

  “Here,” Maelich began. “Do you know where here is?”

  “What is here?” The voice asked.

  Maelich sighed, thought for a moment, and then continued, “Do you know where this dense fog near a large boulder in the center of a clearing in a very dense wood is?”

  “Oh, why didn’t you just ask me that in the first place? It is right where you are standing. As far as its relationship to other places, I do not know. I have never been anywhere but here,” the voice replied.

  “Well that is no help,” Maelich sighed as he sat down upon the bit of boulder poking through the fog. Once he was seated, he continued, “And I did ask you that in the first place.”

  “It is some help. Now you know where you are,” the voice paused almost long enough that Maelich thought it was finished, but then it continued. “You did not ask me that in first place. First you asked where you were, and I told you. Then you asked what they call this place. Once I determined what you meant by, ‘they’, I told you that too. Then you asked where this is and where here is and only after all of that did you ask me a question even remotely logical. Yet, even after asking all of those questions, you still haven’t asked what you really want to know.”

  Maelich grinned. At this point he was too flabbergasted about the bodiless voice he was speaking with to be frustrated anymore. He stretched his arms wide apart above his head and in a mocking tone said, “Please, oh great disembodied voice of this dense fog near a large boulder in the center of a clearing in a very dense wood, enlighten me on what question I really want to ask.”

  “Ah, sarcasm,” the voice replied. “I have so few occasions to speak with anyone I barely recognize it. Sarcasm is fun, isn’t it? Still, laced within your sarcasm was a question far more important than you probably realize, and I will answer it for you. What you really want to ask me is, ‘How do I get out of this dense fog near a large boulder in the center of a clearing in a very dense wood?’ Although, after speaking with you for these past few moments, I know you would probably not ask me that at all. Instead, you would more than likely ask, ‘How do I get out of here?’ and leave me guessing what you really wanted to know.”

  Maelich laughed, “You are wise my friend, a tad too particular perhaps, but wise indeed. So then, how do I get out of this dense fog near a large boulder in the center of a clearing in a very dense wood?”

  “Well that is very simple,” the voice assured him. Then it added, “You just follow the path directly in front of you.”

  As soon as the last word reached Maelich’s ear, the fog in front of him split to form a wide path. He followed it with his eyes to the edge of the trees and found an opening there. Then he said, “That was not there before.”

  “Of course it was. You simply did not know what you were looking for,” the voice replied. “Safe travels, Maelich. Beware the black horse.”

  Maelich thought of inquiring about the black horse but decided against it. He probably wouldn’t have asked the right question anyway. Instead, he stood up, walked over to the opening in the trees—that definitely wasn’t there before despite what the voice of the clearing had said—and strolled into the dense forest surrounding him. As soon as he was beyond the edge of the trees, all but the faintest hint of light left him. There were no filtered rays like he had enjoyed in the clearing. The change was so dramatic he quickly turned around to see if the clearing had darkened at all. It was gone. He could faintly make out the trees where the opening to the clearing should be at the end of the trail he occupied. However, the opening itself had vanished, apparently closing up behind him once he passed through. He shook his head and turned back around. It didn’t make any sense to try to go back anyway. That would just lead to another fruitless conversation with a voice obviously not in a hurry to get anywhere.

  Maelich began to follow the trail. The whisper of light available was enough that he could almost make out the trees on either side the path for at least a couple of feet in front of him. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He still didn’t know where he was going. At least there was only one way to go. Wherever the trail led would be his destination.

  “So where does this trail lead?” Maelich broke the silence.

  This time there was no response.

  “I guess you remained in the clearing,” he continued to no one but the trees. “You were painfully irritating to talk to, but better than talking to myself.”

  Still nothing, the voice of the dense fog near a large boulder in the center of a clearing in a very dense wood had obviously remained there. That must be a horribly boring life, if it were life at all. The voice didn’t have any form, at least none Maelich saw. Maybe it wasn’t life at all. If it wasn’t life, then what would it be? It did exhibit intelligence. Perhaps that in and of itself would denote some form of life. Of course, the meaning of life would then come into play and have to be reasoned into the equation. Does intelligence necessarily equate to life? A being doesn’t have to exhibit intelligence to be alive, but does intelligence have to inhabit a physical form to be alive. If life is strictly dependent on a physical form presenting itself in the physical world, then intelligence wouldn’t necessarily mean the voice represented life.

  Suddenly, Maelich was surrounded by light. He had no idea how far he had walked or for how long. Neither time nor distance made any sense. The issue of whether or not the painfully particular voice in the clearing represented life—or what represented life at all—had proven to be a subject engrossing enough to suck his attention away from the details of his movement. In any event, he had left the dark forest and stumbled upon something else entirely. Thick grass grew wild up to his knees. It was a deep, intense green like no grass Maelich had ever seen, almost glowing rather than reflecting light. On top of that, it moved differently than grass should. Grass as long as the stuff he was standing in should sway and wave in the breeze. The breeze was there—strong enough to blow his hair straight behind him—yet the grass remained unmoved by its efforts. The stubborn, unmovable grass ended abruptly at a creek measuring about three and a half feet across. A steep hill covered in the same unmovable grass grew up from the edge of its opposite bank.

  Maelich’s eyes followed the odd grass up the hill to its peak. There, under a lone, tall oak, stood an impeccable, white horse. This was no ordinary white steed. The animal was without blemish. There was no grey or any kind of shading to its coat and, like the glowing grass, it appeared to emit rather than reflect light. As they made eye contact, Maelich felt something. It was something resembling nervousness or fear, but not quite either of those things. Anxious was perhaps a bit closer, but even that didn’t quite describe the feeling. Something in his belly did not completely reconcile with his mind.

  They stared into each other’s eyes for a few excruciating moments before Maelich had to look away. Those eyes didn’t make any sense. They weren’t any particular color, but they had color. In fact, it appeared every color imaginable was present in them, swirling and twisting one moment, shifting and flashing the next. Simply maintaining contact with them for as long as he had left him feeling scrutinized and small. In an effort to avoid those beautiful yet terrible eyes, he looked to the sky. That offered little relief. It wasn’t really sky at all, just a yellow glow. There was no blue, no clouds, a
nd no sun. In fact, the glow didn’t appear to originate from any one point. It was even and steady and it surrounded him from the grass on one side to the grass on the other. Maelich’s mind grew tipsy as he scoured the non-sky with his eyes, examining it. His shifting equilibrium twisted his belly and brought bile up to the back of his throat. Even with all of that discomfort, the unsettling yellow glow posing as sky was far easier to behold than the white horse that filled him with such a queer and uncomfortable sensation.

  “Maelich,” the white horse addressed him, “I have been waiting a long while for you to finally arrive.”

  Maelich took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. Then he looked back to the white horse to find it still staring at him. He replied, “I did not know I was being sought.”

  The horse continued as if Maelich hadn’t spoke, “A great journey lies before you, a journey that has been waiting for you since long before you were born. This journey has been waiting for you since the beginning of time.”

  Maelich thought for a moment. The simple act of searching for words shifted his focus from his peculiar surroundings, slightly easing his discomfort. Finding the perfect words was imperative. He didn’t feel like entering into another tango like the one he encountered with the voice in the clearing. “Who are you?” was the best he could come up with.

  “I am the white horse. I am your guide.”

  Maelich sighed, “I can see you are a white horse, but what is your name?”

  The horse smiled and replied, “I know the fog had you befuddled in the clearing. It likes to play games and it is very particular about how people—or any other entities for that matter—choose their words. Essentially, it is lonely and bored. It very seldom gets any company at all. I am not lonely nor am I bored. I have no riddles. I also have no name other than the white horse. That is what I am. That is who I am. I am referred to as nothing else but that.”

  “Good,” Maelich replied. “I am tired of riddles. What is this journey, and why should I accept it?”