Kallum's Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2)

by E. Michael Mettille

  A head peaked out from behind the boulder. It was a man and he was indeed quite blue. His skin wasn’t blue, or maybe it was. The actual color of his skin was impossible to ascertain as a deep, blue substance was smeared thickly over it. It was the color of the sky at twilight, just before the last light of day has given way to the black night sky. The man’s dirt-streaked hair was black, long, and straight. Random braids with some form of decoration woven into them settled in between the snarls. His gnarly beard was the same dirt-streaked black and bore the same random braids and decorations. A string of brightly-colored beads hung around his neck, each bead catching the sun and shining. The only clothing the man wore was a rectangular strip tied around his waist and ratty foot coverings loosely resembling boots. Both appeared to be made from some kind of hide.

  “That man definitely be blue. These must be them people we be seeking,” Ymitoth commented.

  “It would appear so,” Maelich replied. Then he looked down at Mountain who was stomping his feet, shifting between whining at Maelich and growling at the blue man. “Mountain, sit,” he commanded the eager scrod.

  An idea popped into Maelich’s head. He sheathed his sword and turned toward the spear jutting out of the trail in front of the horses. As he turned, the prang crest of Havenstahl fell out from within his shirt. It reflected the brilliance of the sun, blazing bright enough to cause the blue man to shade his eyes. As the flash of light moved away, those eyes grew wide with recognition. The blue man jumped and shouted something like a cheer, “Aiyeeee.” Then he rushed toward Maelich, leaping and howling. Nine additional, blue-painted bodies poured out from behind the boulder and fell into the same excited behavior.

  The wild leaping and screaming was all Mountain needed to forget his master’s command. The growls that had steadily been pouring out of the scrod quickly escalated to furious barks. The beast leapt toward the people, almost gaining enough distance to escape his master’s reach. Maelich was quick enough to stifle the scrod’s effort though. He leapt upon his back and dragged him to the ground.

  “Mountain, no,” he yelled again in the scrod’s ear. Then he held him tight with his right arm while he petted his belly with his left hand, and whispered, “Shh, it’s alright,” in his ear.

  Mountain’s continued growling slowed the excited group of blue people and eventually stopped their approach altogether by the time they made it within fifteen feet of him and Maelich. As soon as they stopped moving, all of them fell to their knees, folded their hands, and bowed in unison. The scrod’s growling eventually ceased completely while Maelich continued to whisper soothing words to him. After a few moments, his struggling stopped as well. When Maelich finally released him, he charged over to the prostrate blue people and began sniffing all about them. All of them remained completely still. Apparently satisfied they no longer posed a threat, he trotted back over to Maelich, gave him a far less aggressive bark, and then lay down by his side.

  “Good boy,” Maelich leaned down at patted him on the head. Then he stood, looked over at Ymitoth, shrugged, looked back at the crowd of bowing, blue people, and said, “Please rise. Do you understand my words?”

  The first man they had encountered, Ding, looked up at Maelich with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. He stuttered over some garbled gibberish before saying, “Yes, words. You Maelich, king, Maelich, savior.”

  Ymitoth shrugged when Maelich looked back at him again.

  “My name is Maelich, but I am a warrior not a king. What is your name and who are your people.”

  “Me Ding,” the blue man replied. Then he waved his arm behind him and said, “Them Shaiwah.” He pointed at Maelich and added, “You Maelich. You king.”

  “The Shaiwah,” Ymitoth interjected. “Me uncle had stories of them when I been still a lad. Them stories had all but fled me old mind.”

  Maelich glanced back at him once more, “Well, why do they think I am their king?”

  “Please, come,” Ding’s voice had a pleading quality. “Meet Maulom. He wise. He tell you, you king.”

  By this time, Mountain had completely overcome his distrust of the blue people, the Shaiwah. He probed and sniffed at them, earning a scratch behind the ear here and a pat on the head there. The attention was tentative at first. Once the Shaiwah determined the beast would not maim or devour them, the affection became more open and friendly.

  Finally Ymitoth said, “We should be heeding their word and meeting this Maulom they be speaking of. Maybe he’ll be filling us in on how ye became a king.”

  With that, the two men grabbed the horses and led them on foot behind the Shaiwah who were buzzing with excitement. Each in turn touched Maelich. When he smiled in response, they grew bolder and hugged him. An odd sense of serenity, even belonging, filled him. The fact he had a purpose with them was apparent. What it could be would have to wait until he finally met the one they called, Maulom. Until then, their reverence of him would have to serve as proof enough.

  Ding led the group past the boulder the ten Shaiwah had been hiding behind when first Maelich, Ymitoth, and Mountain arrived and up into the foothills in a westerly direction. The path they followed was the basest approximation of a trail. Narrow and covered in loose rocks and dust, it wound its way around monstrous rock formations that grew larger the higher the trail took them. The going was slow with the horses trailing behind, but the tall mountains grew ever closer. Finally, Ding called a halt to the group as they reached the point where the foothills gave way to the mountains proper. The first peak of the range loomed above them like a stalking monster puffing out its chest and stretching up toward the sky.

  Ding turned toward Maelich. “There, home,” he said as he pointed toward the base of the massive giant.

  “The mountain is home?” Maelich asked as he looked closer.

  As Maelich continued to gaze in the direction Ding was pointing, he finally made out a black spot partially obscured by a mammoth boulder. The sun had long fell behind the mountain and the shadow of the giant gave the surrounding land the appearance of dusk. There was movement around the boulder, more blue people, more Shaiwah.

  “They’re cave dwellers,” Maelich said as he leaned closer to Ymitoth.

  “Aye,” Ymitoth agreed. “There ain’t be no place else to dwell in this land.”

  More blue people appeared from behind the large boulder. All of them buzzing and skipping along; surrounding a man dressed in clean, white, loose-fitting trousers and a shirt that matched them in every way. The man’s hair was equally white and cropped close to his head. A white beard and mustache wrapped around his mouth cropped in the same close fashion. Everything about him seemed completely out of place in the dirty hills at the base of the mountain.

  Ding motioned his hand toward the approaching group and said, “Come, come, meet Maulom.”

  As the two groups approached each other, a deep sense of recognition filled Maelich. Though he couldn’t quite figure why, something about the man in white—the one Ding referred to as Maulom—was terribly familiar. Like seeing a face you haven’t seen in twenty summers; the essence remains, but the features aren’t quite where you remember them.

  Maulom looked toward the sky, raised his hand up on either side of his head, and said, “Maelich, thank Coeptus you have arrived.”

  “You obviously know me, but I am afraid that, though you stir feelings of recognition in me, I am quite unaware of who you might be.” Maelich chased memories around his head, desperately trying to give meaning to the sense of knowing this Maulom awakened in him. It finally struck him. It was something about his eyes. He didn’t know why, but Maulom’s eyes were familiar. After a few moments he added, “And who is Coeptus?”

  Maulom smiled, “Forgive me. Thank the gods you are here. We will speak of Coeptus in due time. For now, of course you know me. You have never seen me like this, but we have had a few recent conversations.”

  Maelich’s eyes narrowed as Maulom’s clue solved the riddle for him, “You are the white horse in my
dreams. You lied. You told me you had no name other than the white horse.”

  “That was not a lie,” Maulom shook his head. “In your head I was the white horse. You see, I projected myself to your subconscious mind. Picture me as a writer and you as the reader of my work, or your subconscious rather. I projected myself to you or wrote the story, so to speak. You—or your subconscious rather—read a white horse from that story. As the reader, or the receiver of the message, your interpretation is just as important as my intended meaning as the writer, or the deliverer of the message. In fact, being that we were meeting in your head, your interpretation was far more important—and even more valid—than my intended message. Therefore, I was the white horse.”

  Maelich shook his head, “Well you are consistent in one thing. You continue speaking in riddles.”

  “Aye,” Ymitoth interjected. “Ye be saying a lot of nothing from where me fool ears be sitting.”

  Maulom flashed a patronizing smile to both men, “In any event, the important thing is you are here now. The Shaiwah have been waiting for you for hundreds of years.”

  “Hundreds of years, how is that possible?” Maelich asked. “I have only been alive for…” he trailed off as he glanced back at Ymitoth.

  “Thirty, lad, ye been gracing the sweet face of Ouloos for thirty summers now,” Ymitoth helped.

  “There you go,” Maelich looked back at Maulom, “thirty summers, not hundreds.”

  Maulom’s smile lost its patronizing quality, “Thirty summers or hundreds, what is the difference to a people who could have no idea of your existence based on the vast distance existing between them and the land you call home? The simple answer is it makes absolutely no difference. They did not know when you were born, nor did they know when you would come. They did know, however, that someday you would. The obvious question vexing your brain right at this moment must be, ‘How did they know?’ The simple answer to that question is Coeptus.

  “A few moments ago, you asked me who Coeptus is. The question is incorrect. Who are Coeptus would be the correct phrasing of your query. Coeptus are everything. The air above your head, the ground beneath your feet, you, me, everything you see and everything you do not see, all are Coeptus. Even the gods, those you worship and those you fear, all of them are Coeptus. Being we are all connected to and by this same energy, all have access to all. Some things can be learned through careful and thorough examination of one’s self. Others are readily available to our subconscious mind. That is where real, powerful connections can be made. See, for most us, our conscious minds are guarded by barriers, walls built of the things we are told and taught throughout our lives. The possible and the impossible are dictated through our interpretations of the world we occupy; while those interpretations are guided by the principles and laws we have been taught. Most accept these definitions of possible and impossible as facts, givens that need not be tested because they are known and accepted laws. This is not the case for the few who ignore the limitations placed upon them by the beliefs and superstitions of those who came before. For those initiates into the mysteries of Coeptus, words like impossible do not exist. For them, there is only possibility.

  “But, Coeptus are something that cannot be learned or understood in a short lecture given in the shade of a mountain to a traveler weary from the trail. The question is, ‘How did they know you would come?’ Though Coeptus are the easy answer to that question, Coeptus will remain beyond your comprehension for a time. For now it is enough to know that through Coeptus, all things are possible. Hundreds of summers past, Coeptus told the Shaiwah of their coming king. They painted the story in the same blue they use to protect their fair skin from the blistering sun. My search for truth through Coeptus led me to them when I was a young man of only twenty summers. After forty summers among them as their teacher and guide, I found you for them through the grace of Coeptus. Once I found you, I found your mind was bound tight by the bonds of things you had been told; lessons learned through the teaching of men shackled by the concept of impossibility. Therefore, I was unable to communicate with your conscious mind. However, the unconscious mind is a miracle that refuses to succumb to those chains. That is why we met in your dreams.”

  By the time Maulom finished, Maelich’s eyes were wide and his head shook slightly. “I am a simple warrior. I live in a hut with my mentor, this man,” he pointed at Ymitoth, “whom I call father. I am not a stupid man though. I know Kallum created all and it is through him that all things possible are possible. These ideas you speak of are blasphemies against my god.”

  “These ideas are things you have known, Maelich,” Maulom contended. “Your mind has been scarred deeply by great tragedy. It is something you would not believe right now if I told you, but it has erased much of your memory. That can wait. First, give me a few moments to show you the story of the Shaiwah. They are a people who have suffered for centuries at the hands of Tiakwah and her savage armies. The Shaiwah are peaceful and ill-equipped to defend themselves. You are the savior they have been waiting for, Maelich. You are the great power sent by Coeptus to protect and defend them.”

  “I am weary,” Maelich decided. “I will give you the moment you desire. Show me the story of the Shaiwah. Later we can discuss these ideas about this Coeptus you speak of.”

  Maulom’s smile widened, “Come, the prophesy is painted all about the walls of the cave. You will be a great king, and you will deliver these people to the peace Coeptus have promised them.”

  chapter 46

  the search begins

  Perrin sat upon the floor in the throne room of Druindahl. Her heavy head rested in her hands, as her eyes looked up at two empty thrones. Kallum’s fury had destroyed her throne and the city surrounding it. The more time she had to think about what her life had become, the less important it seemed to restore each stone, each plank of wood, every pane of glass, and every sheet of fine, crafted prang to its former home. Initially, seeing that her castle and her city were reborn seemed more important than anything else. However, the longer she processed everything, where her rump sat quickly became the least of her worries. Maelich and Geillan beat all of her other thoughts back. Death was the least plausible idea for either of them. The lad of the Lake seemed expert at avoiding his return to that place no matter what peril he might find himself in, and sweet Geillan had undoubtedly been stolen for a far greater purpose than merely to be killed. Her sweet baby, her newborn son, had no control of his journey. Her absent husband was a different story entirely. Wherever he was, it had to be a place he wanted to be. There wasn’t a power on Ouloos that could keep him shackled. If only he wanted be at his wife’s side.

  Geillan was foremost. The future king of Havenstahl needed to be found. The child obviously had great power. Perrin had witnessed it first-hand. Even absent the scars Cialia had stolen from her, the memory of them would linger for all of her days. Sweet Geillan had been blessed with the power of Dragon’s Fire. Based on history, it was easy enough to determine why a creature as wicked as Kallum would want him. Yes, the why was easy, controlling a power as great as Geillan would make him unstoppable. Where? That was the challenge. Where on Ouloos could her sweet babe be? When the gods abandoned their physical forms, they existed outside the rules binding the physical. Maelich had taught her much before leaving her alone to bring their son into the world. How do you find something that may not exist, at least in the same sphere of existence?

  “My dear, sweet girl,” Leisha said as she entered the throne room and walked up to Perrin’s slumped form, “you will not find him. When it is time for him to return, he will. Until then, you must continue to live.”

  Perrin glanced up at her, “Do ye be speaking of Geillan or Maelich?”

  “Geillan, of course,” Leisha’s smile was forced. “Maelich has chosen his path. Hopefully it leads him home. Whether or not you welcome him is something you have to decide. I hope it is not him you dwell on. If you were to ask me, I would tell you he does not deserve your attent
ion.”

  “Geillan be ruling me thoughts,” Perrin conceded. “Maelich broke me heart. I ain’t the time to be wasting on hurting over him.”

  “That is a truth,” Leisha agreed. “According to Cialia, the war claimed many lives. Most of them were warriors, well aware of the peril of their rank. But it appears far too many innocent souls were sent to the Lake with them. Our people have been scarred. There is much healing to do, and you will have to be the one to lead them in their healing. Your castle has been destroyed, but the throne is still yours. You still lead those people.”

  “No, that seat be far too big for me to fill. The road, the search, it be beckoning. I be leaving with the sun.” The queen shrugged as she finished, “There be nothing here for me now.”

  “You are the queen,” Leisha’s tone was a bit louder than she intended. “The people of your city need you to lead them.”

  “They don’t be needing the likes of me. I ain’t any kind of leader. Me husband, he be a leader,” she paused before adding, “like his mother. Ye be the mother of the king. The throne of Havenstahl be far more fitting for your rump than mine. Ye can be guiding these people through their healing.”

  “Sweet Perrin, the trail is no place for the queen of the greatest city of men,” Leisha countered, “and like it or not, you are that. Besides, you will not find Geillan. Kallum represents a power far too great for you to overcome. The trail will bring you nothing but more heartache.”

  “Aye, the road be a dangerous place. That be why Glord and five stout men of his choosing will be acting as me escort and guard. He be teaching me the ways of the warrior and how to be swinging this sharp hunk of metal with deadly purpose too,” Perrin’s tone turned grim as she rose. Her meekness had been melting away quickly since facing Kallum’s dead-eyed men in the halls of Havenstahl. When she stood and hauled the glinting hunk of metal out from beneath her gown, it fled completely.