Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Without pause, Cialia continued to spin from the hook that helped Bantios to the ground, lifting her left knee up, just before firing her right heel across Limbriam’s jaw, and dropping the big man where he stood. She landed softly upon the ground again and sized up the last man standing. Her face wore no expression as her eyes finally met his. No emotion troubled her thoughts. She merely had a job to do. A young girl had been misused and needed to be spoken for.

  “You and your brothers have lost,” Cialia informed Antian, her tone as expressionless as her face. “I would prefer not to inflict further injury on you. Please follow me to Druindahl and we will let the king sort this out, or gather your brothers, leave this forest, and never return.”

  There was nothing fun-loving or comical about Antian’s laugh. It was dark, borderline maniacal, and saturated with bad intentions. After his laughter subsided he replied, “I am unimpressed with the former champion of Druindahl. How can you expect submission when you have offered no pain? For all of your acrobatics, I remain unscathed. Tossing and flipping your body around, you belong in an entertainment troupe. You are no warrior in my eyes.”

  Limbriam and Bantios managed to regain their feet while Antion mocked. Both gathered their swords and moved back into positions that effectively formed a triangle around Cialia with their brother. With quickness that didn’t fit his large size, Antian reached under his jacket and fired something at Cialia. It glinted once, twice, three times as it approached her face. To Cialia, the movement was slow, as if it were floating down a lazy stream rather than cutting quickly through the air. It was a small throwing knife, its blade reflecting the sun every time it came around.

  Cialia remained expressionless as she brought her right arm up across the front of her body in a circular motion. The knife glanced off her prang gauntlet a moment before it would have struck her eye. It careened to her right and continued its flight. Limbriam was not quite as fast as Cialia. A moment after the blade glanced off of her wrist, it buried itself in his throat. Her eyes remained locked on Antian as his expression melted from mocking hubris to shocked sadness, deepening as the gurgling sound coming from Limbriam increased.

  Cialia inhaled deeply and slowly, held the breath in her lungs for a moment, and then released it just as slowly. Then she said, “Your brother Limbriam is on his way to the Great Mother. His journey to the Lake is about to begin. You have killed him with your own blade. Please submit so you do not have to follow him.”

  “Foul bitch,” Bantios screamed as he lunged at her.

  She spun to her right narrowly avoiding his blade and letting him charge by on her left side. As he passed, she brought the outside edge of her right hand down upon the back of his neck. His knees went slack as she connected, and he dropped like a stone. His limp body twitched twice and then lay still.

  Antian had remained completely still, aside from severe trembling in his upper body caused by the intense grip both of his hands held on his sword. His eyes misted as his lips formed words with no voice to carry them forth. He stared at Limbriam lying on the forest floor and clutching at the dagger poking out of his throat. The vision of his brother bleeding out in the dirt was nearly as devastating to Antian as the horrible gurgling sounds spilling from the dying man’s mouth as he tried to speak.

  “That is your blade Antian,” Cialia broke the silence. “Your anger has ended your brother’s time among the living and sent him home to the Great Mother. I do not wish to cause you any further pain. Please stop this now.”

  Antian slowly moved his gaze from Limbriam’s struggle to Cialia. His face tightened until it appeared as if the skin of it might rip right off of his skull as he said through clenched teeth, “This is the day you die, bitch. Your death will not be swift, and it will not be peaceful. I am going to punish you, break you, and cut you up before I let you follow my brother to the Lake. Then I am going to carry your lifeless corpse around as a trophy and do unspeakable things to it every time thoughts of my brother enter into my head.”

  “I am truly sorry you feel that way,” Cialia replied quietly. “Come then, finish this.”

  Cialia unsheathed both of her blades and walked toward Antian who answered by bringing his blade up to an offensive position. The greatest hero Druindahl had ever known was three steps from Antian when he brought his sword high up over his head and slashed down at her. A quick step to the left kept the blade from tasting her flesh, and it hammered the ground instead. Immediately after hitting the dirt, Antian slashed again, horizontally, level with her waist. She leapt high over the blade and landed softly in the exact spot she had been standing prior to the attack.

  “Fight me, bitch,” Antian roared as he launched a furious assault.

  Cialia remained silent as she danced around Antian’s attacks. They were quick and random. The blade came faster and faster as she flipped, dodged, and contorted her body to keep it away from her flesh. She allowed the assault to continue for a few moments. Antian’s rage seemed never ending. Finally, Cialia gave in. Death was all Antian understood. His soul would have no peace until he found it, so she gave it to him. The blade stabbed at her a final time. Parrying the thrust with the blade in her left hand, she stepped to the right and slashed Antian’s throat open with the blade in her other hand.

  Antian stumbled about a bit, his eyes blinking rapidly. A confused expression slipped onto his face as if his mind were troubled by some question he could not reason an answer for. The sword fell from his hand, chiming like a bell as it struck a stone on the ground. Two more stumbling steps proved to be the last he ever took, and he fell to his face amid a pool of his own blood.

  Cialia knelt and bowed her head. Taking life was something she took no pleasure in. There had been a time in her life when she did. A warrior’s death was honorable, and there was no greater gift she could give to an opponent than a glorious death. After battling Kallum, that all changed. More specifically, after Coeptus had opened her eyes—and the rest of her senses—to the truth of life, she gained a different view of Ouloos and all who inhabit it. That is when she decided it was not her duty to judge anyone. She was a guide to help souls find their way back to the Great Mother and back to the Lake. Sometimes it could be accomplished through words and teaching. Sadly, other times it could only be accomplished with a blade. Antian and his brothers were foul, villainous takers lacking the honor of real soldiers. They were mercenaries, swords for hire. Coin was the only cause they fought for. Someone taught them to be that way though, and the Lake would have them just the same.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by arms around her neck and a head on her shoulder. Then a shaky voice whispered, “Thank you,” quietly in her ear.

  Cialia smiled, opened her eyes, set her swords down, wrapped her right arm around the young girl, and said, “It is my duty to protect those in peril or need. You look familiar to me. What do they call you, and what led to Antian and his brothers attacking you?”

  The young girl cleared her throat and said, “My mother gave me the name my father picked for me, Keiryn. He died the day before I was born. I have been helping out at Glandon’s Pub.”

  “I remember you now,” Cialia interrupted. “You were the little girl always pinned to Tesha’s hip while she served the drinks. I hardly recognize that little girl in the young woman before me. Five summers ago you were a hair more than a bright faced tot.”

  Keiryn blushed through the grime on her face and smiled, “I am not pinned to mother’s hip any longer. I serve the drinks in her stead now. She has grown quite ill.”

  Cialia frowned, “I am sorry to hear that. I have fond memories of your mother. When I was a girl, she would keep me occupied if father was at the pub having a chat with the men. I would like to see her after I speak to your king. Now why were those men mishandling you?”

  Keiryn shrugged, “They were at the pub drinking and having a merry time. At first they were fun and playful. They kept ordering drinks and telling jokes. Then that one,” she pointed over to the he
ap that used to be Limbriam, “put his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. He told me I was beautiful and he would take me away. I pushed his arm off and he got back to laughing and talking with his brothers. They kept drinking though, and he began to get very grabby with me.” She paused and stared off into the trees.

  Cialia touched her hand and said, “Do not fear. You are safe now. Tell me what happened next.”

  A tear formed on Keiryn’s right eyelid as she took a deep breath and continued, “I struggled and pushed him away, but he was persistent. Then he touched me somewhere I did not want him to touch so I slapped him. I regretted it as soon as my hand hit his cheek. He spat in my face, slapped me back, and threw me over his shoulder. Then he carried me into the supply room. His brothers followed him in. They slammed me on the ground and that one was climbing all over me, grabbing at my body and tearing at my clothes. He ripped my dress off of me. I was so scared. That is when I clawed his face and when he stood, kicked him in the groin.”

  A groan from Bantios startled Keiryn out of her story. She jumped, gasped, and buried her head in Cialia’s chest, “Please do not let him hurt me.”

  Cialia rubbed her back and said, “That one will be awake soon enough, but for now he slumbers. Believe me, even when he does wake he will never lay a finger on you again. Go ahead and finish your story. Get it all out of you.”

  Keiryn took a deep breath, looked over at Bantios’s unconscious body, and then turned to Cialia and said, “That is mostly all of it. He cursed me and fell into one of his brothers. During the commotion, I slipped between his legs and escaped the supply room. I managed to bar the door on my way out. I knew I would be in trouble for attacking a rider, so I fled.”

  “What?” Cialia was incredulous. “Why on Ouloos would you think you would be in trouble for defending yourself against the desires of a drunken brute like that?”

  “Things have changed since you left Druindahl. King Blancus is fair and good, but he has hired mercenaries from far and wide to repopulate Druindahl’s army. There were few riders left when you went away. The new riders rule the city now. Blancus never leaves his palace,” Keiryn’s reply was matter of fact.

  A wave of anger rushed over Cialia. If Keiryn spoke the truth—and based on the four ruffians she had just dealt with, she did speak the truth—it would mean it only took five short summers to destroy the glory of Druindahl. Leisha had pulled those people out of the dark ages of man and given them hope. Now all the people she once stood as champion for lived in fear of those who should be protecting them. She gave Keiryn a squeeze and said, “Come, I think it is time I speak with your king.”

  chapter 24

  the champion returns

  The forest dimmed as Cialia and Keiryn made the slow journey into Druindahl. There were still a few hours of sunlight, but the dense canopy of the forest kept most of the sun’s rays from reaching the forest floor. Unencumbered, Cialia could have made the rest of the jaunt in under an hour. Keiryn’s condition slowed them down a bit. She sat behind Cialia atop Purity holding on tightly to her back. Injuries and weariness limited the young girl’s strength and much of Cialia’s attention was given to healing and keeping her passenger from falling off their mount.

  The air changed slightly; a small current, ten men with mounts moved in the darkness of the forest, five each in the trees to either side of the trail. They were seasoned riders. Any ears on Ouloos, aside from Maelich’s, would never have heard the faint rustling of hooves on the forest floor. The steeds of Druindahl were trained far too well to be heard when stealth was the goal. Cialia heard it though, and despite all of their techniques at masking their scent, she could smell them too. A hint of leather and oiled bicalchrin mixed with horse sweat wafted across the trail. She brought Purity to a halt a moment before torches blazed to life all around her, a clever trick she had come up with during her twelfth summer and taught all the riders of Druindahl.

  “I am Boringas of the Dragon,” a deep voice boomed from behind the torchlight on the trail about ten feet in front of Cialia. “You have entered lands that are guarded and protected. State your name and business.”

  Cialia smiled at the torchlight and replied, “It has been too long, old friend. You know very well who I am and my business is with your king.”

  Boringas approached and boomed, “I cannot believe it is really you! Varmillian brought word that he and his brothers were assaulted on the trail by the champion of Druindahl herself, but I had to see with my own eyes. I trust you gave them a sound thrashing.” He chuckled and then added, “The mighty Cialia, princess of Druindahl, champion of the Dragon and her great city in the trees, you have never met your match with a blade.”

  “I sent them home to the Great Mother,” Cialia replied soberly.

  Boringas’s laughter abruptly ceased, “What? You killed them? For what crime, challenging you? They were riders of Druindahl. I am sorry if they offended you, dear princess, but that is no reason to end their lives. They would have been punished.”

  “I offered them ample opportunity to relent, but they would have it no other way. The one they call Bantios still lives. He may even be awake by now. The other two have expired,” she shrugged.

  “You had no right,” Boringas countered.

  Cialia steadied Keiryn and leapt down from Purity’s back. “I had every right. I lay my head under the crest of a different city, but I am still a daughter of Druindahl and a champion of all the men of Ouloos. Your men attacked and terrorized a young girl, Keiryn. You know her. She serves the drinks at Glandon’s Pub. They would have killed her had I not intervened, and they would have done unspeakable things to her before extinguishing her flame. The caliber of men now bearing the crest of the Dragon saddens and disgusts me.”

  “We have laws, Cialia,” Boringas replied. “I know Antian and his brothers are crude and rough, but we have laws to address this kind of behavior. It is no longer your place to enforce those laws.”

  Cialia took a deep breath and said, “You have the duty of your post, Boringas, and I have the duty of mine. This situation has placed us in opposing positions. I know the laws of Druindahl, and I respect them. I championed them. You know I do not kill without cause. My goal was to bring Antian, Bantios, and Limbriam before your king to answer for their actions. I tried. They would not allow it. As for Varmillian, I will see him stand before your king and face Keiryn, his accuser. She needs to know Druindahl will not stand for her riders mishandling those they are sworn to protect.”

  Boringas dismounted, walked over to Cialia, lowered his voice, and said, “Cialia, please forgive the stance I am taking. Things have changed drastically since you left. There are very few among us you could still count as friend.”

  “What about the riders accompanying you now?” Cialia asked.

  “These men are my most trusted, but I must still guard my words. They all have developed relationships, and there are politics among the men,” he paused and looked in her eyes. After a few moments of silence, he added, “My position is constantly challenged, not outwardly, but subtly, a comment here and a whisper there. Why do you ask?”

  Cialia gave her old friend a sympathetic smile and replied, “Because two of them left. You cannot lead men who will not follow you, Boringas. I would take a force of twenty loyal soldiers over ten thousand I could not fully trust. You do not lead these men, old friend.”

  Boringas sighed and addressed his men, “Cialia will stand before the king. Keiryn’s fate will be decided by him. We will lead the two into the city, and they shall remain unmolested.”

  A bit of grumbling from beyond the trees was the only response.

  Cialia closed her eyes and slowly filled her lungs up, holding the breath a moment before releasing it as slowly as she had drawn it in. Then she grabbed Boringas’s shoulder and said, “There are dark feelings in the hearts of your men, those among us as well as those in Druindahl. If you do not stand with me, old friend, you may not want to stand so close.”

&n
bsp; Boringas shook his head, “No one will attack you, but you must do as I say.”

  “Oh, sweet Boringas,” Cialia smiled, “I am not afraid for me.” With that she leapt back up onto Purity’s back, checked Keiryn’s condition, and added, “I will do as you say, but I fear we will not make the king’s quarters uncontested.”

  The caravan moved at a slow trot. Boringas lead with Cialia directly behind him. Two riders Cialia was unfamiliar with brought up the rear. On either side of the trail four additional riders protected the flank. The trip was uneventful until they neared the hidden entrance to the city in the trees. Two men on horseback bearing the mark of Druindahl barred the path.

  Boringas called out, “Halt,” to his riders and then addressed the two men blocking the path. “Turin, Malto, what is this about?” he asked.

  Turin put his arms out to his sides with his palms raised and lifted them toward the sky. The gesture set the forest around them ablaze with thousands of torches sparking to life at the same instant. A devious grin crept onto Turin’s face as he looked left, then right, and then directly at Boringas. The grin turned into a wide smile as he said, “Your guests are unwelcome here.”

  Boringas sat up taller in his saddle, raised his voice, and boomed, “I am charged with the safety of Druindahl, and I lead the riders of our fair city. Cialia is a princess of Druindahl. She arrives as our guest and will be treated as such.”

  Turin shook his head slowly. “Your guests are not guests of Druindahl. Both of them assaulted the riders you claim to lead, and you expect to house them in this city unscathed? Where does your allegiance lie, brother?”

  Boringas had barely spoken the word, “Treason,” before Cialia interrupted him.

  Keiryn had become uneasy on Purity’s back. Cialia gently patted her leg and said, “I was born into this city and have stood as her champion since I was old enough to carry swords. I will have an audience with your king, and this young girl will have justice.”