Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Ymitoth shrugged, “Much can be changing in forty summers. Ye probably be right to be staying away. I’d be storming the walls of the castle, alone if fate be making it so, but I’d be taking that throne back in the name of me father.”

  Braggon bowed his head, “You are obviously an honorable man. Far more honorable than me I am afraid, perhaps honorable enough to release me from this awkward prison you have placed me in.”

  Maelich piped in, “Forty summers is a long time. You say that you have lived among these trees the entire time?”

  “I have,” Braggon replied as Ymitoth yanked his dagger out of the tree and released him. “You will find no other who knows these trees as I do.”

  “Come,” Maelich said, “eat with us. We had a very productive hunt the day before last, and we have plenty of meat to spare. You can share our bounty and perhaps tell us more about this forest.”

  The forest had grown quite dark and Mountain had long since found his way to sleep by the time the three men finished making camp. A stout fire along with the coziness of the camp the men had built made the effort seem worthwhile. Ymitoth turned a thick slab of tubber over the flame on a spit he had fashioned out of sticks. While the meat roasted above the flame, Braggon shared some berries from his pack.

  Maelich smiled as he popped a berry in his mouth, “Are you always wandering Braggon, or do you have a place you call home in these woods?”

  Braggon smiled back and replied, “There are many places among these trees I call home. There are small settlements all about these woods; too small to be called towns, but settlements nonetheless. Most of them sit empty for much of the time. The folk around these parts tend to be somewhat nomadic. One group will move in and occupy an area for one, maybe two summers, and then move on. Another group eventually takes their place. They leave much behind.”

  “Is that how you have survived all this time?” Maelich asked.

  “Partly,” he shrugged. “Most of what they leave is good for shelter and I have tended a garden or two when blessed with seed, but food is normally hard to come by. I’ve never been much for hunting. Aside from those throats I slit so many years ago, I haven’t done much killing. Most of what I eat I have to steal. The trails are ripe with rich travelers for most of the year. I can keep both me and Mountain well fed without them ever knowing their good deed of providing us with sustenance.”

  “What about them darker things what be lurking in this wood?” Ymitoth interjected as he slowly turned the dripping hunk of meat on the spit. Then he raised his face toward the two men. The shadows playing across it made him look like some kind of demon or monster as they mingled with his features, especially those black, dead eyes.

  Braggon chuckled, “I have yet to come across any amatilazo so bold as to challenge Mountain. I believe his scent alone keeps them far from us. This wood does carry a strong population of them, but they haven’t bothered me in years. Prior to finding Mountain, I did quite a bit of running and a lot more hiding.”

  “What about grongs?” Maelich asked.

  “Once in a great while a group of grongs will move through these woods. They mostly stick to the other side of the swamp though. They never stay in the same area very long, truly nomadic. Not to mention, if you don’t have anything, they don’t really bother with you. I was even accosted by a group of them once and they let me go. They checked me over, gave me a good pat down, found I had nothing of value, and sent me on my way.”

  Ymitoth piped in again, “We ain’t looking for no amatilazo or grongs. We be looking for Shellar. What ye be knowing about that witch?”

  “Ah, Shellar, the She Liar as she is called by men,” Braggon said with a widening smile. “I should have known a couple of stout soldiers such as you would not venture into this forest without the promise of true glory. I know quite a bit about her. You are not the first adventurers to come looking for that prize.”

  “We will be the last,” Maelich assured him.

  “What is your cause?” Braggon clapped his hands loudly, rubbed them together, and then leaned forward. “Adventure, glory,” he paused, “have you been promised a reward?”

  Maelich shook his head, “I seek the monster to repay a debt owed to her by another.”

  “Ah revenge!” Braggon proclaimed loudly as he clapped his hands several times, leaned his head back, and laughed. “Revenge is the best of causes when dealing death to a vile beast. I pegged you for a hero right from the start; the strong build and flowing hair, you could be nothing less.”

  A frown slipped onto Maelich’s face as his brow dipped, “You mock…”

  Before Maelich could finish his statement, Ymitoth threw his opinion in. “I’d be counseling against mocking this one,” he chuckled.

  Braggon put his hands up to Maelich and said, “Please, I mean no disrespect. Sometimes my tongue gets away from me.”

  Maelich shook his head, “You have nothing to fear from me. I do not enjoy being made a mockery of. However, I have no desire to prove my worth against one untrained in battle. I would gain equal satisfaction from proving I could throw a stone.”

  “And I would be a fool to test your might,” Braggon quickly added. “No more jest. I can lead you to the prize you seek. Of course she is not idle. She does not move quickly, but she does move about. Always she is in the swamp, very close to where we are right now.”

  “I knew we were close,” Maelich said. “I learned all of the stories when I was a young lad. From where I do not recall, but I know what she is about. Her location is obviously still a mystery to me, or I would have slayed her by now. The bit we were able to glean from the owner of the debt we seek to repay was not much at all. It was enough to bring us this far.”

  Braggon’s smile returned, “From this point, if you head straight east you shall find the prairie, veer at all to the south and you shall find the Sea of Sadness, head north and you shall find your way back to Havenstahl, but head west and you will find what you seek. Of course, she isn’t straight west of here, more southwest really. You will find her in the swamp.”

  “We have been in and around that swamp for days and have found no sign of a monster fitting the description of the She Liar,” Maelich complained.

  Braggon shook his head and replied, “You have not explored the vastness of this swamp. I can tell by the condition of the clothes on your back. You are wearing your fair share of filth to be sure, but you cannot leave the swamp without bringing a good bit of it with you.” Braggon popped a berry in his mouth and continued, “You may have tinkered around the edges of the swamp, but you have yet to penetrate its depth.”

  “Is that to say ye be knowing all the secrets of the swamp then?” Ymitoth asked.

  Braggon chuckled, “Never. The swamp is a vast and ever changing mystery, as is Shellar. I feel quite comfortable boasting that there are few men living with a greater knowledge of the swamp than that which I possess though. I can lead you to Shellar if you truly believe she is what you seek.”

  “I made a promise long ago to stand for those who could not stand for themselves. At this moment, I stand for one in need of peace. I seek Shellar, the She Liar, bane of men,” Maelich answered soberly.

  “Very well,” Braggon shook his head. “We shall rise with the sun, and I will deliver you to her by midday.”

  The conversation dwindled as Ymitoth pulled the roasted meat off of the spit and divvied it up among them. He even had a good sized hunk for Mountain who was also lucky enough to earn a large bone to gnaw on. The warriors would need a full belly and a good night’s rest to face the challenge a new day would bring. They would find that deep, refreshing slumber beneath the trees.

  chapter 27

  down with the forest

  Bok sat upon his throne at the western edge of his tent. It had been erected on top of his ship and served as his war room. Fierce, amber eyes scanned the small group serving as his advisors. His father, Maomnosett Ott sat beside him along with Bok’s younger brother Ohm. Based on th
e hierarchy of power in the giant community, Ott, by all rights, should have been at the helm of the great army. However, when Brerto, the great tiger, came to him in a dream and gave him his calling he demurred making way for his second son who still carried the fiercest fury at the loss of his brother Ahm. Hountmytall Dik and Laenkishot Kon were also present. Along with Ott, they represented the first generation of giants as well as the three most feared families of the proud race. They were seated in front of Bok along the southern wall of the tent on his right side facing north.

  The trogmortem were represented in the war room by Chi-Ta, their king, and his three generals: Ka-Lita, Bim-Kalil, and Skivvi-Na. They sat across from the giants along the northern wall, facing south. Though the trogmortem were savage and terrifying in appearance, they were far from dumb animals. Their intellect did not match that of giants, but they had an advanced language, cunning, and the ability to strategize. Despite several historic clashes between the two groups, Chi-Ta was more than willing to accept an alliance with the race he admired more than hated. This was mostly because of a deep connection all trogmortem felt to giants. Sadly, the sentiment wasn’t shared by the objects of their admiration. Bok’s purpose for engaging the trogmortem had little to do with fostering unity or mending old scars. It was an engagement of necessity. The trogmortem had the one thing giants lacked, numbers.

  According to trogmortem myth, Tal and Tol were the first giants. They are referred to as the houseless ones because they never adopted a name for their line to be recognized by as their children did. Tal grew tired of Tol when she refused to give him any more children. He left their cave and wandered the desert, searching for someone sturdy enough to bear his offspring. After years of exploration, he came across a mighty creature matching his size, the bintoosha. Bintoosha are beasts living in the land west of the Great Sea. They are massive, predatory animals who hunt the men of that land. Tal was inspired by the first one he found. She had lengthy limbs that looked strong and useful, with claws for tearing. Her face was long, mostly made up of jaws full of dagger-like teeth, and her body was covered in scales. Rather than being repulsed by her terrifying appearance, Tal found the strength in her form to be possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The beast was less fond of Tal though, and she attacked him. The giant was strong, agile, and adequate with his hands, proving a great match for her strength. They wrestled for days to a standstill until, finally exhausted, the bintoosha submitted to Tal. The eventual result of the union was Go-Rika, the first of the trogmortem. Tal would sire many more of the hybrid creatures with several bintoosha. Eventually, their numbers far surpassed those of giants and even rivaled those of men. This of course was the mythology of the trogmortem. Giants didn’t believe any of it. The first generation was the first generation begotten by Coeptus as an image of physical perfection, an improvement on man.

  Finally, the grongs were represented by Slurg, the choontah—loosely translated as chief in the common tongue—of the barbarous creatures. He was accompanied by his two most trusted generals; Glung and Banch. They sat together at the eastern edge of the tent, just inside the entryway. Grongs were ferocious, animal-like warriors who lived for battle and the hunt. Thinking and strategy were not among their strengths. Bok had only invited Slurg to the council to ensure the dedication of the grongs. They were easily distracted and fought for no real cause of their own. Keeping them engaged and focused on a goal was the biggest challenge in dealing with the brutes.

  Bok made eye contact with Chi-Ta and asked, “Why are we still on this beach?” His voice carried an uneasy calm that seemed far too thin to hold back the madness swirling beneath it.

  Chi-Ta shifted in his chair and replied, “Thousands of men have fallen, but they continue to be replaced. Their numbers seem inexhaustible.”

  “Perhaps the trogmortem are not as fierce as their boasts,” Ohm interrupted.

  “Be still, my brother,” Bok said as he touched the giant’s arm. “This meeting is not intended to disrespect our friends in this campaign.” He paused and gave his attention back to Chi-Ta, “Forgive Ohm’s disrespect, Chi-Ta, but there is validity to his point. You promised me the gates of Havenstahl in a week. A week of fighting has passed and all my forces remain camped on this beach.”

  Chi-Ta nodded, “I did make that promise. When I made it, I expected to see giants on the battlefield beside my kind. Instead, you all remain on your ships, idle, while we do all of the heavy lifting. Your numbers are small, but your might is great. Why do you hold back from the fight?”

  Slurg had a weak grasp of the common tongue, but he did his best to voice his agreement with Chi-Ta. “Giants fight too,” the words came slowly and his cadence was choppy.

  Ohm scowled, but Bok smiled and said, “We have been building, my friend. The thick forests lying on either side of the road to Havenstahl have proven very helpful to the men defending it. At the dawn of each day, while you have gone off to fight the men of Havenstahl, we have been building great machines to tear that forest down.”

  “Fight,” Slurg grunted, “no build.”

  “Well where are the fruits of your labor?” Chi-Ta asked. “Where are these mighty machines able to mow forests to the ground? Such a machine must be massive. I see no such thing on this beach. There are several catapults to be sure, but they are useless where they sit rotting in the salty air.”

  “They are on the beach south of the bay,” Bok’s tone remained cool, “four of them. “My sons and the sons of my kind have been camping there, building from before daybreak until well after nightfall. The full moon and clear skies have proved a blessing to their efforts, and they have finished ahead of schedule. As the sun rises on another day, they will wheel them up the coast and cut this forest down.”

  Slurg’s chuckle sounded like loose stones being ground under the wheels of a heavy cart. He turned to Banch and said something in his own tongue, “Gaok hok hok mong.”

  To everyone in the room but the grongs and Bok it sounded like a series of grunts. Bok had spent time with a grong named Gorg. He had invited the beast to live with him for several months in order learn their customs in preparation for the war. Though he maintained his cool demeanor, his eyes narrowed, “I appreciate your assistance in this campaign, Slurg. However, I will not entertain disrespect in my war room. You can believe me now and see machines at day break.”

  Slurg’s eyes fell to the floor before him, “Please forgive. No disrespect.”

  “You are forgiven,” Bok smiled. “Remember that I know your tongue. It offers you no protection from my ears.” His smile faded as he continued in Slurg’s own language, “Bing ahk nok,” which, loosely translated, threatened crushed bones.

  An uncomfortable quiet settled over the room as Bok continued to stare through narrow slits at Slurg. After a few moments, Chi-Ta broke the silence. “What is the plan? How will we employ these machines?”

  Bok’s expression mellowed as he turned his attention toward Chi-Ta, “Each of the four machines carries two circular blades. Each blade has a diameter of thirty feet. The blades are mounted underneath a wooden platform leaving a ten foot arc exposed for each blade. At the back of the machine are two additional platforms—levers really—that will be pushed up and down by my giants. As they oppose each other up and down, a series of gears will spin the blades and move the massive wheels forward. We will cut the forest down.”

  “I am eager to see the mechanics of these machines,” Skivvi-Na interjected. “You are facing old, mighty oaks.”

  “Small minds find big ideas challenging,” Ohm answered the trogmortem general.

  Bok added, “Our blades are sharp. I expect we will have cut a wide path to Havenstahl within another week. However, I do not expect their defenses to hold up that long. Without the benefit of the tight path to limit our numbers, they will be forced to retreat. Then we can march our catapults down the road to Havenstahl and pull their city down.”

  Then Ott, with a grim look upon his grizzled, old
face quickly added, “And before you ask your next question, King Chi-Ta, yes there will be giants on the battlefield. My sons and the sons of my kind will lead you as we trample the men of Havenstahl under our feet.”

  Chi-Ta managed to keep his ego in check and replied, “Giants on the battlefield will be a glorious sight. I look forward to going to battle with you. You are the eldest and wisest among us. I count it a blessing to serve under the same banner.”

  Bok nodded and brought the meeting to a close, “By the time the sun rises, our machines will be in place. Laenkishot Kil’s four sons will power the two machines to the north of the trail. Kik and Kol will manage one while Kal and Kan manage the other. Ohm’s sons, Oyg and Oyn will power the first machine to the south of the trail while Hountmytall Mon’s sons power the southernmost machine. Slurg, once the trees begin to fall, you will send a battalion to march up the trail and engage the warriors of Havenstahl. You will also send battalions to follow and defend the machines on either side of the trail.”

  “What of my forces, Bok?” Chi-Ta interrupted. “Where do the trogmortem fit in your plan?”

  Bok turned his gaze to Chi-Ta, “Patience has never been a quality of the trogmortem. Chi-Ta, you will send two small groups, one hundred trogmortem to the north and one hundred trogmortem to the south to accompany me and the rest of the giants as we move through the trees to find and destroy Havenstahl’s camps. The rest of your trogmortem should follow and support the grongs as they protect the machines and do battle with the forces of Havenstahl.”