Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  Leisha gave Freedom a nudge to catch up with Perrin who had dug her heels into Trailfoot’s sides and was already charging toward the front of the wagon train. The mare closed the distance with little effort and then kept pace. Men bowed at the two queens as they passed, but neither of the women noticed. Perrin’s focus remained locked toward the front of the long trail of wagons and Leisha’s eyes remained on Perrin. She had grown from a scared young lady into a fierce woman ready for battle seemingly overnight. The determined look on her burned face reminded Leisha of her own countenance when the same dead-eyed bastards that stole Geillan from Perrin had stolen Maelich from her. Perrin would lead her people. Leisha felt a great deal of pity for any with a mind to challenge her. Pure rage could only fuel someone for so long, but this was different. This rage came from the blackest pits of a person’s soul, a place where only the most primal emotions live. A person living in that place could do things most men could never dream of.

  By the time the two women had made it to the front of the line, four of the scouts that had gone off to secure a safe place to make camp were charging hard toward the caravan. Glord trotted off ahead to meet them. Perrin and Leisha followed close behind. When the three met the four, Glord motioned back the way the riders had come to lead them away from the rest of the group.

  Glord looked them over as they slowly fell in line beside him. Then he asked, “Where be Harinot, and why ye all be looking so wild?”

  “Me lord,” Fielstag—the rider on Glord’s left—began, “Harinot has fallen. We been set upon by a small band of grongs, thirty or forty. They had us by surprise. Harinot took five to the Lake with him, but his fire be burning no more. The road ain’t safe.”

  Glord grunted something inaudible and then said, “Take a hundred men and be making it safe again.” Then he snapped his fingers, whistled loudly and pointed forward along the trail.

  With that, the four scouts charged back down the trail. A few moments later, one hundred additional men on horseback charged up the trail behind them. Glord looked at Leisha and Perrin. Both women wore expressions daring him to correct them or to attempt giving them any type of order.

  “Me lady,” he bowed toward Leisha. “Me lady,” then he bowed toward Perrin. “Please be accompanying me back to the line. There be grongs about. I ain’t asking ye to come down off of them horses, but please be keeping with the tight formation. Them grongs be vicious and they be looking for the stragglers.”

  The two queens demurred and fell back in line with Glord alongside the line of wagons slowly meandering into the trees like a fat snake slithering into tall grass. Neither had anything else to say as both had far too many distractions in their own minds to give further attention to much of anything else.

  chapter 30

  losing ground

  Daritus slumped in his chair with his eyes closed resting his head on his left thumb while three of the fingers on that hand rubbed slow circles on his forehead. The tokens representing the various factions of his forces lay strewn about the tent and scattered across the map. Everything was going exactly as he expected which meant Havenstahl was losing. Only three days had passed since the giants brought their great machines to the battlefield to cut down the forest, and they had already succeeded in mowing half of it down. His men stood their ground, brave in the face of the nightmares attacking them. Unfortunately, they were horribly outnumbered, and their opponents were far too strong. Once the protection of the trees began to be mowed down, any advantage they had enjoyed quickly melted away.

  Doentaat poked his head into the tent. He stared at Daritus’s slumped form for a few moments in silence. Once he realized the troubled chief was far too deep in thought to look up, he cleared his throat and said, “Daritus, me friend, have ye a few moments to talk about what be happening out on that battlefield.”

  Daritus raised his head slowly, his eyes cloudy with confusion as his mind tried to work its way back into his tent. He stared at Doentaat for a brief time in silence. Finally, he shook his head slightly and replied, “Yes, yes highness, please come in.”

  Doentaat chuckled as he entered the tent, “Ye can be keeping that highness crap. We both be knowing that if not for the great warriors of Havenstahl I’d be king of a mighty puddle of giant’s piss. Ye not be a king Daritus, but ye be kingly. I’ve known many a proper king that can’t be saying that about themselves.”

  The deep lines of Daritus’s frown smoothed a bit as a smile just failed to make it to his lips, “It lifts my heart to know I have your support in this campaign, Doentaat. Our friendship has been brief, but it feels like I have called you friend my entire life. I am grateful to have the furious fighting spirit of the dwarves of Alhouim at my back. We will give these foreign invaders a fight they will never forget.”

  “Aye we will,” Doentaat boomed. “Chase their sorry carcasses back across that Great Sea, we will.” A broad smile spread across his face, lifting the bottom of his beard a full inch above his beltline. Then he added, “Them be the ones that ain’t fallen to the mighty axes of Alhouim.”

  “Your vigor sends my spirit soaring, Doentaat,” that smile finally succeeded in lifting the corner of Daritus’s mouth, if only slightly. It lasted only moments before fleeing. Daritus looked earnestly in Doentaat’s eyes for a long moment before adding, “Sadly, I am finding it very challenging to share your confidence in victory.”

  Doentaat’s smile made way for a stern expression as the dwarf king puffed up his chest, “What kind of talk be that for the greatest leader of fighting men I ever been having the pleasure of fighting beside? The mighty Ymitoth could not even be counting himself your equal; with a sword maybe but never in the realm of strategy. In that ye be standing alone among any that I’ve met.”

  “It is a good plan,” Daritus agreed, “but the trees are falling. With each tree that falls, our advantage decreases.”

  “Aye,” Doentaat nodded, “so be letting them have the forest. The fort be where we be making our final stand. Them trees have let them bastards know they be fighting a furious force of men. They ain’t been having no easy time of it. The Dragon’s Flame been constantly frustrating them as they be knocking them trees down, and the mighty horses of Havenstahl been cutting them to pieces.”

  Daritus nodded, though the grim look had returned to his face, “Yes, our horses have proven useful and the Dragon’s Flame has been more effective among the trees than we could have expected. However, our efforts to outflank the monsters have been frustrated. The giants must have learned of the northern pass to Biggon’s Bay, and the force Kantiim sent to follow Ymanchol has met strong resistance. There is no way they will make Biggon’s Bay in time to catch the bulk of Bok’s force before they reach this clearing.”

  Doentaat scoffed, “Aye they met some resistance, but they be mowing them down. Kantiim’s men be stout and strong and ever pushing them grongs back to that beach.”

  “But far too slowly,” Daritus sighed and scratched his head.

  Doentaat stomped his foot and planted his right hand on Daritus’s chest, shoving the general deeper into his seat. Then he grasped both arms of the chair and shoved his nose to within an inch of his wavering friend’s nose, “Now ye be listening to me and hearing me message well. These men that be dying in them trees and on that pass don’t be needing a general that ain’t believing in the fight he’s got them fighting. They be needing a general that be confident and sure of the mission, even if he be knowing there ain’t Dragon’s spit of a chance that they be winning. Ye need to get off your arse and get on your horse and ride out to show them that ye be believing in them. Keep your arse off the front line, but ride among them and whip up their spirits. Quit your damn pouting and get out of this damn tent.” The dwarf king was shaking and spitting by the time he finished his rant.

  Daritus stared into Doentaat’s eyes as they flashed a fury that had been absent from his own. The dwarf king seemed far bigger looming above him. Daritus opened his mouth to respond but was interru
pted before he could begin.

  “What in Dragon’s fire is going on in here?” Kantiim asked as he stormed into the tent, grabbed Doentaat by the arm, and spun the dwarf king around. “How dare you?”

  Doentaat grabbed the top of Kantiim’s chest plate and pulled him down so they were eye to eye, “Ye could stand to hear me message just as much your friend. Ye got men out there dying for a cause ye ain’t believing in. They be needing ye both to get out of this tent and give them somebody to follow.” He gave the big man a stiff shove and turned back toward Daritus, “Ye have me support, Daritus. Be making sure ye got your own.”

  Daritus stroked his chin for a moment. Then he slammed both of his fists down on the arms of his chair, stood, and said, “Thank you my friend. That is wise counsel and I would do well to take your words to heart.” He walked over to Doentaat, firmly grabbed his right shoulder, and continued, “I have been spending all of my time strategizing and worrying in this tent, paralyzed by the idea of what may come. No more I tell you. The plan has been laid and now we must execute it. I ride out with the sun in the morn.”

  Kantiim composed himself and said, “It heartens me to hear you say that, old friend. It would greatly raise the men’s spirits to see you among them and perhaps receive some words of encouragement from their leader.”

  Daritus looked from Doentaat to Kantiim and back again, “Forgive me, friends. I have forgotten myself. I am not a man that sits idle in tents playing with maps and tokens while my men fight and die. My sword will taste the blood of grongs, trogmortem, and giants when the sun brings us a new day.” He looked back at Kantiim, “Do you bring news from the front?”

  Kantiim nodded, “Ymanchol has proven himself more than worthy of my confidence. They are severely outnumbered on the northern pass to Biggon’s Bay; yet he has his men charging forward and cutting hordes of grongs down. Even the trogmortem are proving no match.”

  “What of the Dragon’s Flame?” Daritus asked.

  “There numbers have been replenished, and they hold strong,” Kantiim replied soberly. “Every night since the giants have brought their great machines out to eat the trees, the Dragon’s Flame has been running missions to frustrate their efforts. They managed to disable one of the contraptions for a day. It is running again, but they are slowing Bok’s progress considerably.”

  “And Ygraml be stout in holding that trail,” Doentaat spoke up. “Though it be shrinking as the forest be falling to them damn machines. The horsemen of Havenstahl be having ice in their veins.”

  Daritus finally allowed a genuine smile onto his face, “This is all very good news. If Ygraml can hold and Ymanchol can continue his march down the northern pass, Bok will be facing a battle on all fronts when he reaches this clearing.”

  “Exactly as you planned, old friend,” Kantiim smiled. A sober expression replaced the smile as he added, “Sadly, I do have less heartening news.”

  “Of course ye do,” Doentaat sighed, “grim bastard.”

  “What is it then?” Daritus asked.

  “Many of Havenstahl refused to heed your precious wife’s warning. They believe that nothing on Ouloos can challenge the strength of Havenstahl’s mighty army, especially with the aid of the stout forces of Alhouim. At least half of the townsfolk remained with none to protect them,” Kantiim replied, his voice far softer than it had been.

  “Bah,” Doentaat waved his hand, “ain’t a dwarf left Alhouim. Them bastards ain’t getting past this clearing.”

  Daritus stroked his chin again, “I appreciate your bravado, Doentaat, but this is something we would be wise to put some thought to. We may crush Bok’s forces in this clearing and win the day, but can we be certain we will completely contain them here? Imagine the destruction a handful of giants or trogmortem could wreak on unarmed, untrained townsfolk. Even one giant could kill them all.”

  Doentaat chuckled gruffly, “The women of Alhouim will be giving any of them monsters that dare be trying the walls of Alhouim all they can be handling.”

  “I am certain they would, my friend,” Daritus patted the dwarf’s shoulder, “but I am not quite so bold as you. I am unwilling to take a chance like that.”

  “I have already sent one hundred men to mind all of the paths leading into the city and given strict instructions to send word to the front if they should fall under attack,” Kantiim piped in. “One thousand more are briefed and ready should the need arise.”

  Daritus nodded, “Hopefully boredom will be the only enemy they encounter.”

  “Them bastards will be running the other way,” Doentaat scoffed.

  “That is the hope,” Daritus agreed. “Let us rest now. In the morn we shall rise with the sun and light a fire under our troops.”

  chapter 31

  A new queen

  The room slowly came into focus as Cialia blinked several times and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. A dull throbbing in her right temple made her want to close them again. She sat up and brushed back the wet hair matted against her cheek. Something wasn’t quite right. A slow scan of her surroundings assured her she was in her room in Druindahl, high atop the trees of the Forgotten Forest. Everything was where it belonged, but somehow she felt completely out of place. Her gaze fell upon the bureau across from the foot of her bed. Her music box was missing. Someone had been in her room.

  Cialia leapt from the bed and almost fell as soon as her feet hit the floor; her legs quivering from lack of strength. Leaning back against the bed, she steadied herself with her right hand. Crouching slightly, she drew in a deep breath and collected herself. Weakened, from what she did not know, her entire body felt limp and exhausted. Why couldn’t she remember the night before? She looked up toward the ceiling and thought for a moment. It wasn’t merely the night before escaping her. She couldn’t remember anything.

  After a few slow, deep breaths, she tried her feet again. This time her legs responded a bit more agreeably. At least she didn’t feel like she was going to fall to the floor any longer. Three slow, slightly unsteady steps had her at the door. The latch had never seemed so heavy. As the stout, wooden thing swung slowly open, the fresh forest air filled her lungs and fluttered through her hair. That was better. Her eyes closed as she pulled in a few more deep breaths. The throbbing in her head eased up a bit as her legs grew steadier. Food seemed a wonderful idea. Before she could take one step onto the open corridor outside of her bedroom, a guard blocked her way.

  “I need to speak with you, Cialia,” he said.

  “I am hungry,” Cialia replied. “Please do not hinder me.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed as he examined her and asked, “Do you feel no remorse for what you did last evening?”

  Cialia sighed and ran her hand through her hair, “I do not remember last evening. In fact, I do not remember much at this moment. The only thing I am completely certain of is that I am starving. What is your name, soldier? Unless you are interested in challenging my blade, I suggest you let me pass and make my way to the kitchen.”

  “I am Boringas,” he replied. “You know me.”

  “No,” Cialia’s head dipped slightly to the right. “You are a man. Boringas is a lad.”

  “Cialia,” Boringas began, “do you truly remember nothing? You burned…no, you obliterated tens of thousands of men to ash. You killed them with fire that you created. It was like you pulled it from the air and they all exploded into bits of charred bone and crispy flesh. You wrought impossible destruction. If you truly cannot remember, it is a shame.”

  “That is horrible,” Cialia replied. “If I honestly did such things as you said, how would it be a shame if I could not remember them?”

  Boringas shook his head, “Because I cannot make you pay for your crimes. You are far too powerful. Someone should make you pay though, and if you are still the same lass I knew so long ago, you will administer your own punishment.”

  Recognition filled Cialia’s eyes as her mouth slowly opened. There were no words. Her eyes merely widened as the
truth of Boringas’s words became clear in her mind. She had found her flame and lashed out at those barbaric, dishonorable riders in a furious rage. Her lips quivered slightly then moved as if to form words but no sound sprang forth from her lips.

  “You do remember, princess,” Boringas said quietly.

  “I do,” Cialia agreed as sternness crept onto her face and she set her jaw tight. “I also remember why those vile scrods earned my fury. Where is Keiryn’s body?”

  “She was washed and burned on a pyre as is customary,” Boringas replied. “Then she was scattered on the wind high among the canopy, free to float until she finds a place to rest among the trees.”

  Cialia’s expression remained cold as she said, “I would have liked to have been there to bid her flesh farewell.”

  “You were there to see her off to the Lake,” Boringas shrugged. “The flesh is merely a vessel to carry our spirit around this place. You know that. In fact, I believe it is you who taught me that.” He sighed and looked out into the trees, “That was so long ago. We were so innocent then. Everything seems so soiled now.”

  “Children grow old and innocence dies when we learn to pull truth from among the lies.”

  “You taught me that silly little poem as well, after the first time you killed.”

  Cialia lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, “It is the truth. Not the truth they tell you but the truth you must learn for yourself. This world is a vile, dirty place where foul men spread their filth until it infects everything, taking all they can while never caring who they break.”