Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  “What about the truth Coeptus gave you? You returned to us so righteous, ready to save Ouloos and bring peace to all her people.” He looked earnestly into her eyes and asked, “Where did that beautiful soul go?”

  A chuckle chased the stern look from her face, “She has been slowly dying over the past five years. The sickness you and your king allowed to settle into this place was the final strike, the dagger that pierced my heart. Coeptus gave me a truth, and I tried to share it. I faithfully spread their word to every ear I could find.” She paused and rubbed her forehead, “There is another truth though, the truth that there will always be those who will exploit and terrorize those weaker than themselves.”

  “I suppose that is true,” Boringas shrugged, “and I suppose you will make it your mission to punish those who would do so.”

  “To protect those too weak or frightened to have a voice,” Cialia nodded, “yes. I will make it my mission to protect those who cannot protect themselves. There will be justice in this world.”

  Boringas remained silent as his eyes moved about her face.

  Cialia let out a deep sigh, “Now, I am hungry. If you wish to continue this conversation, please let us do it on our way to the kitchen.”

  Boringas fell in step beside Cialia as she pushed past him. She could feel his eyes on her face. Was he scrutinizing or admiring? After a few steps she asked, “What is it you hope to find in the lines of my face?”

  “I truly do not know?” he replied soberly. “Perhaps I am trying to decipher whether the scowl upon your hardened face is proof you truly feel no remorse for your actions or your effort to convince me of such. Maybe I am trying to determine if you have changed or if my adoration of you blinded me to the darkness in your heart.”

  “Darkness?” Cialia chuckled dryly.

  “I am unable to think of a better word,” Boringas’s tone remained flat.

  A light breeze danced among the tree tops urging the leaves into a gentle waltz. They rustled while they lightly kissed each other and sounded like gentle waves caressing the beach. Each strand of Cialia’s matted hair was like one of those leaves and all of them together danced the same waltz in the peaceful, forest breeze.

  Boringas broke the silence again, “Even with damp, matted hair waving all about around your head, I find you more beautiful than anything I have ever seen. How can a being so soft and delicate be so hard and lash out with such fury?”

  Cialia didn’t respond. Neither did she turn her gaze toward Boringas at all as they travelled along the open corridor so high among the trees. Down four steps and then curving around tree after tree, she walked with her chin raised and her eyes facing straight ahead. Even when they finally reached the kitchen and she found herself a slab of meat, some bread, and a little fresh, berry wine, it was as if she were alone. Boringas may as well not even have been there.

  Cialia set upon her meal like a ravenous beast, devouring it in silence until Boringas broke the silence again. “I loved you once,” he said quietly. “I think I still do. Though I am not sure how.”

  Cialia finally looked at him, “You did not love me, sweet Boringas. You wanted to own me, to shackle me, to stifle my free spirit.”

  “No,” he smiled as he shook his head. “I loved you. I loved your free spirit. I loved that you refused to be shackled. I loved that you would stand your ground and fight for what you believed in no matter what the cost. I would never dare throw chains on something so perfect and free. That would be like trapping the mighty wind in a jar. Everything making it perfect and wonderful fleeing as it stales in its cell.”

  “You are such a romantic, Boringas,” she finally smiled at him. “You may not believe this, but had I submitted to you, you would have shackled me. I wanted the wind and the trail, freedom. You are sweet, probably the sweetest man I have ever known, but I will never live under the rule of a man.”

  Boringas shifted in his chair as he laughed and shook his head, “Rule you? Would I ever dare to risk my skin in a game like that? I am far too fond of myself, dear Cialia. I know you. Like a precious gem I have admired you since we both were mere children. During this lifetime of admiration I have gleaned a few truths about the object of my desire. The most important of which is she will defend her freedom violently. I am a damn fine swordsman, but as a warrior you have no equal. It would be a foolish jest on my part to imagine imposing my will on the great Cialia.”

  Before Cialia could argue, Boringas raised his right finger at her, shook his head again, and said, “No, wait. I am not finished. The things I admire most about you are the things that would be stifled if I even had the power to hold you down and force you to submit to my will. What must you think of me if you see me as this thing so arrogant to believe I could rule over you? I would never conceive of the idea. I did not wish to rule over you but to accompany you, to bask in the sunshine of your presence. To me you are like a beautiful full moon, perfect as it rules the nighttime sky showering its radiant glow across the land.” He paused, sighed, and scratched his head before looking around the room and adding, “Apparently you have never felt a similar affection toward me. If you had, you would know me better.”

  Cialia finished chewing and splashed a bit of wine down her throat. Once her palate was clean enough to speak without spewing moistened crumbs all about the table, she reached across it, took both of Boringas’s hands in her own, and said, “Oh Boringas, my dear, sweet friend, my childhood companion, to say I never felt a similar affection for you is a lie. I have loved you for perhaps as long as you have loved me. Alas, that is not my life. My life is to serve; to protect those who cannot protect themselves. And look at the effect that has on you. I saw the fear, even loathing in your eyes as you chastised me. You say you love me; you admire me, but you are seeing me. I am not sorry for what I did to those men in the forest. You take exception to that. You would have me regret actions I cannot regret. I searched those men’s souls and found nothing but evil. Then I sent them home where they can do no further harm to anyone.”

  “You are correct,” he shrugged. “I do not agree with your idea of justice.”

  Cialia smiled as she continued to hold both of his hands, “And you would seek to change that, scolding me about how I am wrong. A weak, innocent girl was set upon by beasts and her sentence for defending herself was an arrow through her throat. That entire band of marauders—who you would call riders of Druindahl—was culpable in her death. Though only one of them drew the string firing the brand into her flesh, all of them wished it could have been them. They were all evil, wicked fiends hungry for blood.”

  “This is hard for me to say to you, but I think you should leave,” Boringas pulled his hands away. “Please, fill your horse sacks, clean yourself up, and prepare for the trail. Whatever you need, we will provide. I do love you, but you are dangerous and I have to protect the people of this fair city. What you call justice does not resemble what we call it here.”

  She raised her eyebrows, “That must have been very difficult for you to say. I am not leaving though. After I have cleaned myself up, I will see your king and give him an opportunity to stand aside. You are correct. The people of this city, my city, need to be protected. However, you and your king have proven you are incapable of providing that protection.”

  “How dare you?” Boringas scoffed. “You vile usurper, you know none in this city can oppose you. Do you think that gives you the right to impose your will upon us?”

  “Yes, I am imposing my will. I have searched the hearts and minds of the people you are sworn to protect and found nothing but fear. You cannot protect them. I will protect them. They are my people, and this is my city,” her smile fled as she spoke.

  He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair, “I did the best I could with the tools available to me. You and your brother took our general and most of our riders. What was I to do?”

  Cialia shrugged, “I am not accusing you. I am stating the truth. You did the best you could, and it is not good
enough. You peopled your army with filthy scum. I eradicated that scum, and I will rebuild Druindahl’s army. I would ask you to remain as my general. Your heart is pure and you do mean well.”

  “The one who fears being ruled by me would ask me to submit to the same,” he chuckled. “I will serve as your general, princess, but I will continue to counsel restraint. You have powers it seems you are only just learning to understand. I would hate to see you burned to ash by your own flame.”

  “I understand my powers,” Cialia smiled. “The flames are new for me, but fire is only one element.”

  A red glow bled into Cialia’s eyes as they narrowed. As her gaze looked far past Boringas, she barely noticed the terror twisting itself up in his expression. She couldn’t blame him for being afraid. After all, he had witnessed firsthand how destructive her power could be the night before. Right at the moment she thought her old friend may give up on bravery and flee, the kitchen door suddenly popped open and thin vines pushed past it. They slithered in along the floor like snakes. In moments those snaky vines were slipping up Cialia’s leg, onto her lap, over her shoulder, and then circling around her head. They wrapped around her skull several times before breaking off their tails and slipping quickly back out the door they had entered through.

  Boringas’s eyes remained wide as he said, “A crown for a queen.”

  “Indeed,” she replied. “Let us go speak with your king. My people must know they will never live in fear of anything again.”

  “Of course,” his head bowed slightly. “But first, I would ask you to accompany me on a short walk of the forest floor.”

  Cialia rolled her eyes. “To what end, Boringas?” she asked. “Do you mean to profess your love to me again, weaken me with the fresh fragrance of the forest air, and then take advantage of my weakened state to seduce me?”

  Boringas’s eyes narrowed as his tone betrayed his injured pride, “No, dear Cialia. You have made it abundantly clear any love you hold in your heart for me is insufficient to stifle your desire to exist as a free spirit unencumbered by the weight of a relationship. Even more, my eyes are finally seeing you clearly for what you truly are. I will always love you, sweet Cialia. However, after seeing your idea of justice, my fear of you has grown far greater than that love. It has grown so massive it eclipses any other feeling for you I have ever had.” He smiled and shook his head as his tone gained a bit of strength, “I have no grand schemes of seducing you. I would merely like to show you the carnage you authored against those you deemed unfit for this world.”

  “And what purpose will that serve?” her tone remained stern but her expression softened slightly.

  Boringas shrugged, “I merely want you to witness the result of your strength. The Cialia I remember would not be able to look upon the kind of destruction you caused without feeling something. You sit there so smug and satisfied in your actions with your talk of justice.” A scowl crept onto his face as he continued, “But here in this room you are safe from the sight of it. I watched those men burn. I heard them scream in agony as your flames roasted them to nothing but charred bits. Your consciousness fled so quickly I am afraid you had not the time to properly experience it. I want to look in your eyes when they behold the terror of what you have done, and then I want to hear you justify your actions to me.”

  Cialia’s eyes widened, “Who do you think you are speaking to me in such a way?”

  The words had barely fallen from her lips when Boringas spat his response, “I am a man, just the same as the men you burned in the forest. Sometimes I make the wrong choice, and sometimes my thoughts are impure. Dare I say, sometimes my thoughts are downright evil? Does that mean I should be killed? Does that mean I should be damned to the fires of an angry god?” Boringas’s voice had grown to a shout as he pounded both of his fists on the table, eyes wide with fury. He remained like that for a few moments before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and continuing in a far calmer tone, “Perhaps the sight will not move you at all. Still, I beg you. Please join me on the forest floor. I need to know if you are at all affected by what you have done. I need to know if there is any remorse in your heart at all.”

  Cialia’s expression had lost all of its fierceness and her tone fell to just above a whisper, “What will that prove?”

  Boringas chuckled and shook his head, “Whether or not I should hope for anything in this world. If you can look upon those charred bits of the men you so brutally punished for having hateful thoughts and remain unmoved, I will know there is no reason for me to ever put faith in any person again. You have no idea what heights you have soared in my eyes. Sure, I have confessed my feelings for you, but you will never know what it is like to look upon you with my eyes. You were flawless, perfect. This,” he waved his hands toward her as he paused, searching for the perfect word. After a few moments of his lips soundlessly moving around several that were insufficient, he finally found the one he was looking for, “thing sitting across from me childishly defending her tantrum with nonsensical talk about justice is not you. And if it is, you have fallen, sweet Cialia. You have fallen from the very heights to someplace so low I dare not even look.”

  “Fine,” sternness had crept back onto Cialia’s face as she sat quietly listening to her accuser. “I will walk among the remains of those vile creatures you led; those vicious beasts so completely deserving of their fate. I warn you though. When I look at you with eyes completely free from remorse, eyes brimming with justification, then you can turn and walk away from me.”

  Boringas nodded, rose from his chair, and walked over to the door. Pushing it open, he motioned with his right hand, and said, “Come then, princess. Walk with me amongst the carnage.”

  The journey to the forest floor lasted roughly ten minutes. Boringas glanced over at Cialia only once during the walk. She didn’t look back at him. The smug look on her face fueled the bitterness festering in his gut. His head shook slowly as he rifled through thoughts as quickly as a young lad tossing stones on the beach, looking for the smoothest, flattest one to skip. He wanted to jab at her again with another clever barb. That perfect stone—the one he could skip across the waves six times before pelting her in her smug face—simply wasn’t there. He had nothing left. If she could truly look upon the charred remains of the thousands she sentenced to a painful, horrifying death, he would leave the city he loved as well as the woman he had loved for so long. If she could truly look upon that terror and not feel something, anything, the flame he carried for her would finally be extinguished.

  As the two stepped off of the cart, Boringas gently touched Cialia’s left elbow with his right hand, and said, “This way, princess. There is a clearing to the east. You may not remember it, but we used to play there together as children.”

  Cialia failed at suppressing a smile as she replied, “How could I forget? You always wanted to play king and queen, and I always wanted to play warriors and grongs.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “And you always won.”

  The words that were set to leave Cialia’s mouth stalled at her lips as her eyes followed a line from the end of Boringas’s pointing index finger to the clearing they had played in as children. The twenty remaining riders—the sum of Druindahl’s army—pushed carts full of what appeared to be charred wood. As she looked closer, very human looking shapes became clearer among crispy chunks. The clearest one was unmistakably an arm. It had broken off at the elbow. Two of the fingers had burned away or fallen off, and the skin—if it were skin—was charred so significantly it seemed impossible it held together. The three fingers left on the hand attached to that arm were gnarled up as if they were trying to grasp at some invisible thing.

  A gasp slipped past Cialia’s lips a moment before she found some words, “What are they doing?”

  Boringas had expected to smile when he saw the reaction he was hoping for on Cialia’s face. Somehow the shock painted across her bulging eyes and slack jaw didn’t fill him with the satisfaction he believed it would. Th
e weight of what was left of those thousands of corpses was far too great to feel any joy. “So the god hasn’t completely destroyed the girl yet,” he muttered through slightly downturned lips.

  “I can’t…I don’t…” Cialia stammered as she fumbled over thoughts that wouldn’t quite come together into something cognizant.

  “There is no need,” Boringas loosely draped his arm across her shoulders. “I just wanted you to see it and digest it.” He pulled her closer and added, “I don’t suppose I’ll ever see you the way I used to see you. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever see anything in this world the same way again. You have burned away any innocence my eyes held. However, your expression tells me the Cialia I remember hasn’t been completely burned away. I will remain here for you as your general, or whatever else you need me to be.”

  Cialia’s head slowly shook as her loose stammering devolved into nothing more than brief groupings of sounds. Eventually, she laid her head down on Boringas’s shoulder and those sounds melted further into quiet whining. By the time they made it back to the cart that would return them to the heights of Druindahl, the whining had matured into full and hearty sobbing.

  chapter 32

  shellar

  Maelich woke shortly before the sun to Mountain licking his face. The mammoth scrod had taken a fond liking to him. Maelich scratched Mountain’s head on both sides as he scrambled up to his knees allowing for more effective scratching. His efforts were definitely not wasted. Mountain’s rapidly wagging tail and profusely slobbering tongue were evidence of that. “That’s a good boy,” Maelich whispered, pulling the big animal close and hugging him tightly around the neck.

  Maelich stood, patted his leg, and said, “Come on, boy,” as he started down a path that led straight east from their camp into the rising sun.

  Mountain charged out behind him, gaining, overtaking, and finally falling in place beside him. Both held their heads high as their feet—or paws depending on which species you consider—gobbled up the trail. A cool, breeze played among the trees, far stiffer than what normally blew around the stale air as deep in the woods as they were. The forest’s perfume was damp earth and rotting leaves. Somehow it was far more fragrant than the description would suggest. The morning run had always filled Maelich with a sense of freedom nothing else could muster in him. On this particular run, that free feeling was joyously mixed with a bit of nostalgia, as Mountain’s panting reminded him of days long past, attacking the trail with Jom by his side.