Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  “What do ye want with us?” Kendal’s booming voice was far more menacing than he felt facing off with the strange creature.

  The thing continued to stare with those yellowish eyes as it slowly cocked its head left and widened its grin. Kendal took a step toward it. As soon as his foot touched the brick beneath it, a shape flew up from the pile on the floor that used to be Chimarra. Kendal had barely enough time to see that the thing flying at his face looked exactly like the little monster standing in the archway. There wasn’t even time to swing his blade before the wee beast was wrapped around his face and biting into his forehead. A howl raced up the back of his throat and poured out of his mouth as teeth ripped up his skin and scraped against his cranium. Once the adrenaline racing through his veins finally reached his muscles, he grabbed hold of the little monster’s hair and yanked back on it. At the same time, he brought his right hand up and forced his forearm in between the two of them. Pulling with his left hand and pushing with his right arm, it took every ounce of strength in his body to keep the vicious, blue thing’s chomping jaws off of him.

  The beast hissed and snapped at him as he turned toward Haleen and Perrin and yelled, “Run, damn it! Run now!”

  Finally, the two women found their feet and shuffled across the bed with Haleen still carrying the young prince. Kendal’s eyes squinted as he willed them toward the exit. Perrin’s hand had barely brushed the latch of the big, wooden door when Haleen screamed. Kendal watched helplessly as the other blue creature ripped at his wife’s hair and violently snapped at her head. She held the baby out with both hands toward Perrin who grabbed him and fell back into the door. The creature stopped biting Haleen long enough to look at Perrin and hiss. Then it coiled itself up and lunged at Perrin at the same moment the new mother slid down the door with her new son. The creature missed its mark and crashed through the heavy, wooden thing leaving a jagged hole and sending hunks of wood and splinters flying all over Perrin and the baby.

  Watching his wife stumble around with blood pouring from fresh bites on her forehead sent a surge of energy through Kendal. He re-doubled his efforts against the wee beast wrapped around his head; pushing with one hand and pulling with the other while the vile thing snapped and hissed again and again. He gave the thing’s hair one final tug and managed to bring his blade near to its throat. The thing was too damn quick. It flipped away toward the wall before Kendal’s sword could find its mark. He missed the throat he was aiming for but managed to earn a shallow cut in the thing’s belly. The beast landed on the wall level with Kendal’s head and then scurried up toward the ceiling. Kendal absently wiped at his eyes. It didn’t help much. The room remained a blur beyond all of the gore pouring down his face. By the time he caught sight of the nasty, little, blue thing again, it was falling from the ceiling toward his face. He swung his left fist and sent it sailing into the carved, wooden head board of Perrin’s bed. Then he charged, thrusting his blade as he came.

  Slamming into the headboard slowed the beast down a bit, but not enough to give Kendal’s sword time to hit its mark. Just before the point pierced its heart, it flipped up and over the blade and landed lightly on Kendal’s back. It spun and sunk its teeth into the meat on Kendal’s right shoulder as his blade pounded the headboard and he sprawled out on his belly in the bed. Kendal howled again as a chunk was torn from his shoulder. A wild swing behind him with his right hand sent them both flailing to the floor.

  While Kendal struggled with the little nasty attacking him, Haleen jumped up and helped Perrin back away from the door with the fresh new hole in it. “He’ll be coming again,” her intended whisper was more of a shout in Perrin’s ear.

  “What be them awful things?” Perrin sobbed as she scrambled back onto the bed with her baby just before a long, thin arm ending in a hand with two claws in the front and one opposing in the rear swiped down from the hole in the door to the place where she had been.

  Both women screamed as the thing poked its head back through the hole, smiled at them, and dragged a slimy, blood-stained tongue across its lips. Haleen shouted, “Run!” as she flung herself toward the door with both fists aimed at the nasty, little, blue monster.

  Perrin slid off the bottom of the bed and bolted toward the sitting room. She gasped as she saw the bloody pile that used to be Chimarra. The sight of the midwife that helped bring her beautiful boy into the world bloodied and broken in a pile against the wall brought a bit of bile up to the back of her throat. She heaved slightly but managed to keep from vomiting. Turning her head away from the shredded, old woman, she crawled behind a heavy chair sitting in front of a large bookcase next to the fireplace. The baby whimpered a bit in her arms while she quietly did her best to console him. Screams and grunting from the other room kept her from peeking around the side of the chair.

  In the other room, Haleen had missed the nasty, blue creature’s face with both fists. Instead of pounding the little beast, she smacked into the door with her face at full speed. On the other side of the door, the blue thing grabbed her wrists and yanked them down, breaking both of her forearms. She screamed while desperately trying to pull her arms back through, but the thing held her fast and yanked her arms down again. Then suddenly, it sprang back through the hole and latched onto her throat with hundreds of thin, razor-sharp teeth. Haleen’s eyes grew wide as she stumbled back to the bed with blood spraying from her throat, coating the walls of Perrin’s bedroom along with the blue beast still gnawing at her. As the room darkened, she missed the blue shape fly across the room from the other side of the bed.

  Kendal’s head poked up over the mattress and came eye to eye with the blue beast that had stopped biting Haleen once her struggling ceased. The smile it wore dripped with satisfaction, as if it read the recognition of what had just happened on Kendal’s face. His wife was dead. Tears filled his eyes as rage surged through his body. He dropped his sword and lunged at the monster that leapt up almost clearing the furious man’s groping hands. Kendal expected the monster to respond that way and raised his hands high above his head to grab him. The momentum carried them both into the broken door and sent them smashing through it. By the time they pounded into the wall on the other side of the hallway outside Perrin’s room, Kendal had a firm grip on the thing’s throat. He squeezed with all of his might, causing the little, blue monster’s yellow eyes to bulge and foamy red spittle to form at the corners of its mouth. He barely noticed the pain exploding in his destroyed shoulder.

  Then the thing dug its claws into Kendal’s forearms at the same time as it pounded both feet into his stomach. The combination of the deep, stabbing claws with the blow to his belly, loosened Kendal’s grip enough for the beast to slip free of his grip. Once it had, it leapt up onto the window sill directly above them and quickly slashed Kendal’s face three times, leaving a series of deep gashes to pour a fresh stream of carnage down his face and mingle with the blood already flowing from his chewed up forehead. Kendal swung wildly at the thing but missed. It leapt up and began flipping over his head, but an arrow stopped its flight before it could land behind him. Instead it landed in heap to his right side.

  Kendal wiped his eyes again and looked over at the thing. It was still breathing, but they were shallow breaths. It didn’t make a sound. It just lay there quivering and staring at him. Kendal considered the thing for the briefest moment before looking to his left to see the source of the arrow that ended the beast. Four of the palace guard raced toward him and began trying to help him to his feet.

  He shook them off and shouted, “Not me, damn it! In there, me daughter and her newborn son be in there with another one of them monsters.” Then he tried to get to his feet on his own but collapsed next to thing that nearly killed him.

  All four guards charged into the room and through the archway in time to see the other blue creature sniffing around the chair Perrin hid behind. The guard in front—Braggon—pulled out his bow and fired an arrow at the thing. The beast was too quick and flipped backward through th
e air toward him, spinning and slashing as it reached proximity with his face. It left two shallow cuts in the small bit of cheek not covered by his helmet before spinning around him, hitting the floor, and leaping up toward the ceiling.

  “He be a quick one,” Braggon yelled as he spun and made ready to fire another arrow.

  “Aye,” Dirgal replied as he spun and fired an arrow.

  Again the beast proved far too nimble and leapt from the ceiling toward Braggon’s face. By that time, Braggon had readied his bow. Unfortunately, he released the arrow just a moment too late. The beast was on him, clawing, biting, and grunting. Lucky for Braggon, a fine, sturdy helmet cast of solid prang was standard issue for all members of the palace guard. All of the monster’s fury amounted to nothing more than a vicious assault on a sturdy helmet.

  Dirgal leveled his arrow at the small, furious creature’s head, took a deep breath, and released both the air from his lungs and his arrow at the same moment. From four feet away, the beast never saw the arrow coming. It slipped into its temple with a quiet thwip. The thing turned its head as a look of surprise spread across its face. Then it went limp and would have fallen to the floor had Braggon not grabbed a firm hold of its head and launched it mercilessly at the wall.

  Braggon’s angry grimace slowly faded as he turned toward Dirgal and asked, “What in Dragon’s Fire be that beast?”

  Dirgal shrugged and shook his head, “I ain’t never seen a beast such as this.”

  Ybrahm—one of the other two guards—piped up, “Them beasts be the palusculex. They linger in them swamps far to the south and east. They be wily, fast, and smart as any man, strong for their small size too.”

  Dirgal grinned, “Aye, Braggon will be attesting to that.”

  The fourth guard, Deegon, interjected, “Come now. Where be the princess?”

  Before anyone could answer, Perrin slowly rose from her hiding place behind the chair in the corner. The blood splattered about her face was not her own, though she did own the tears that smeared it. She didn’t speak, she merely stood there staring at them, clutching her son tightly, and trembling. Outwardly, she appeared terrified and small. She did feel those things, but they were mixed with rage. The entire assault sent her back to the hut she lived in as a child, that place where she watched a soulless beast maul her family while she hid, helpless, a bystander. This assault was the same. She did nothing but scream, cry, and hide while the people she loved most in the world fought to save her and her baby’s lives.

  A smoldering flame grew in Perrin’s belly as she stared past the four guards. It burned the helplessness and fear away replacing them with something charred and hardened. This new rage wasn’t for the blue monsters that attacked her. The fire in her belly blazed against her own weakness. As she stood damning herself, her mind drifted to another who deserved to feel the heat of her ire. There was another equally culpable in the carnage surrounding her, one who should have been there. His son entered the world, and he missed it. Blue beasts snuck into his castle to destroy his family, and he was absent. They had barely begun their life together after all of his adventures, and right after they did, he left again. A new tear formed on Perrin’s eyelid. As it slowly rolled over the edge and worked its way down her face, she felt every tickle it made on her cheek. She logged each one in her memory. That—she promised herself—would be the last tear she would shed for fear. This would be the last moment she would be the damsel. From that moment on, she would be her own hero.

  “Geillan,” she said with strength in her voice.

  “I be begging your pardon, princess,” Braggon replied. “What be that ye say?”

  She held her son out before her triumphantly and repeated the name, “Geillan, I be naming me son Geillan for me father and his father before him. The future king of Havenstahl be needing a name, and his father be absent from his duty. This boy, mine, will be Geillan.”

  The four guards bowed in unison, “Your Grace,” they all muttered.

  Suddenly, the outside wall of the sitting room exploded, sending bricks and debris flying about the place. All of the guards ducked, but Deegon took a brick to the back of his head. It carried enough force to send the big guard sprawling out on the ground. The three that remained standing spun, pulled their swords, and moved themselves between Perrin and Geillan and the new hole in the wall. However, Perrin wasn’t waiting to be saved. She scurried over the chair with Geillan and raced toward her bed chamber.

  A mist slipped into the room with three cloaked figures floating within it. Perrin had just made it to the edge of the archway by the time all three were fully in the room. She gave them the briefest glance as she sped around the corner, barely making it as far as the bed before hearing sloppy, ripping sounds, like muscles and tendons popping when bones are pulled away from other bones. Those horrible sounds were followed by screaming soaked in pain and fear. Perrin didn’t slow at all. There was no need to pause and contemplate the ripping and popping sounds nor the screaming. She made the door, turned left out of her room, and raced as fast as she could down the hallway. By this time, Geillan had begun to cry.

  Perrin made her voice as soft as she could amid the heavy breaths burning up the back of her throat, “Hush now, sweet child. Mama’s here.”

  Geillan’s crying didn’t cease though. His screams increased until they hurt Perrin’s ears. As the volume of his cries continued to grow, she slowed and looked down at him. The beautiful, bright eyes she had already fallen in love with were hidden behind tightly clamped lids as his heavy cheeks stretched around a wide-open mouth. The skin on those cheeks reddened as his screams continued to gain volume. Perrin held him close, rubbing and patting his back as the churning of her legs slowed. The wailing quickly grew so loud she couldn’t focus on anything but the sound. Ideas blew away like dandelion seeds cast about on the heavy winds of the prairie, urged on by the fury of a scared baby’s scream. It hurt to run. It hurt to walk. Everything hurt.

  Suddenly, a flame shot up between Perrin and the howling child. Intense heat burned her immediately. Shocked by both the flash of light and the pain, she dropped the boy. Before the fact that she had just dropped her newborn child to the hard floor could register, she noticed her gown burning as well as her hair. She fell to the ground and rolled, beating at her clothes and her hair. After a few moments of panic, the fire was out. At least, the fire was out for her. When she glanced back over at Geillan, he was still screaming, but now he was burning too. His entire, tiny body was engulfed in flame. The harder he screamed the more intense it became.

  The idea of trying to pick him back up skipped through her head, but a voice behind her pulled her attention away from the child before she could act on it. “My son,” the voice boomed loudly enough to be heard over Geillan’s wailing.

  Perrin turned to see the three figures that rode in on the mist through the broken wall floating down the hallway toward her. All of them had their hoods down exposing wild, orange hair, mangy beards, and black, dead eyes. She immediately recognized the nightmares that had accosted her as a child in the Sobbing Forest. The fear she remembered from that horrible day so long ago had no time to settle in. It fled from the girl who had always played the damsel, hiding from danger and waiting for her brave prince to save her. A consuming rage filled her so quickly and completely she had no time to contemplate her actions or consider being afraid as she stood and faced the three. Placing herself between them and Geillan, she stalked toward them. “Ye can’t have me son!” she shouted. “He all I be having now, and I ain’t to be giving him up!”

  “Poor Perrin,” the one in front spoke, “always waiting for someone to save you, hiding behind this and that. Where is your prince now? Who will save you?”

  Despite pain settling in on her forehead and down her right cheek where Geillan’s flame had kissed her, she stood taller and continued to approach the dead-eyed men. Her volume grew with each step as she replied, “I ain’t be having no more time for fear. Ye cowards challenge me,
a new mother. What ye be having to fear from me? I’ll tell ye what ye can be fearing from me. Ye just try and be taking me son from me, and ye’ll be seeing what ye be getting from this timid girl. Ye’ll be seeing a fury like none ye…”

  The leader of the group ended Perrin’s inspired rant with a backhand that sent her slamming into the bricks of the wall to her right before depositing her in a heap on the floor. Then he said, “You have grown bold, princess. Pity your brawn has not grown to match your bravado.”

  Kendal finally gained his feet. Though weakened from severe blood loss, he managed a charge at the back of the three dead-eyed men. After two steps toward them, a growl began in the back of his throat and filled his mouth before roaring out before him. He bore no weapons other than malice and wicked thoughts toward the bastards that would take what was left of his small family. The rearmost of the three turned to meet Kendal’s fury and earned a barrage of fists about his face. Kendal moved as if in a trance, pummeling and smashing with all of his might. Despite all of his effort, no marks appeared on the man’s face, no evidence of Kendal’s brutality. The three began to laugh in one horrible voice.

  “Die, ye soulless bastards!” Kendal shouted through clenched teeth as he punched and hammered the man with fists that grew bloodier and more bruised each time they struck.

  The assault lasted moments. All the while, the laughter of the three grew. Finally, the dead-eyed man earning the brunt of Kendal’s fury reached out with his right hand and grabbed a firm hold of Kendal’s forehead. A slight squeeze caused a fresh stream of blood to pour from the wounds there. Exhausted, Kendal finally stopped swinging. The man tossed him against the wall rendering him just another unconscious heap in the hallway.

  The leader stalked over to Geillan. The boy’s wailing had diminished along with his flame. The dead-eyed man stooped, picked the cherub up, and smiled. “My son,” he whispered in the child’s ear, “you will be so much more than your father. You will be my champion. You will rule this world by my side. She called you Geillan. I like that. You will be Geillan. These pathetic worms will search for you. They will seek you out, but they will never find us. They will not see you again until you come to deliver them to the Lake in all your flaming glory.”