Series: Lake of Dragons Series #5
By: E. Michael Mettille
Publication Date: April 1, 2024
Publisher: TMR Books
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Meanwhile, Hagen has remembered his old form and taken it upon himself to root out and destroy any stragglers of the great war who may remain hiding among the woods and dark places surrounding Havenstahl. At the same time, he is using his remembered power to rebuild and restore the hills, valleys, forests, and rolling meadows surrounding the city back to their former glory.
Events are less sunny beyond the borders of Havenstahl. Maelich’s mind has returned from his psychic crack, and he must reckon with all he has done and left undone. Nearly everyone he’s ever loved has died, and it was all his fault. Cialia agrees. Now that her brother is awake, everyone is aware of everything he knows. The forgotten one is remembered by all, another god for Cialia to kill. Maelich seeks to protect Raya from his sister’s vengeance and prevent her from making the same mistakes as him.
While two Dragons battle for the life of a god, the greatest and most dangerous power Ouloos has ever known grows ever stronger at the edge of chaos. Geillan gleaned much from his mother during the brief moment he embraced her while burning her to ash with Dragon’s Flame. Her world is a vile and wicked place filled with treachery, fear, violence, and hate. A reckoning is coming for Ouloos. Will she survive when Coeptus awakes?
The circular room at the top of the tower was the same as it ever was. The cyclopean stones piled on one another too perfectly to be as random and chaotic as they seemed were bathed in total darkness and then total light in such rapid succession, they seemed completely dark and completely light at the same time. It was almost as if the two conditions existed in one moment rather than a rapidly changing procession. The oddness of that condition of light giving way to dark which in turn gave way to the former so quickly no discernable difference could be perceived by any eyes save those of a god wasn’t what had Ijilv’s brows dipping toward his nose. It was the young man suspended between the obelisks emitting all the light and dark in such perfect and fast intervals. It seemed he was wearing a smirk. Ijilv had never noticed any sort of expression on the young man’s perfect face at any of the many times he stood in the very spot he occupied and beheld the magnificent creature. Any expression would have been a bit disconcerting, but the smirk seemed especially troubling.
“You stink of fear, you pathetic thing,” Kallum’s voice groaned in his head.
“I love you, brother,” Ijilv replied with as fake a chuckle as had ever been, “but you are nothing. What does the opinion of nothing mean to anyone?”
“False bravado is beneath you,” Kaldumahn chimed in almost giggling. “I can smell it too. You are terrified of visiting him in that false paradise you’ve created for him within his own mind.”
“I am troubled,” Ijilv granted the cackling fools, “That is not the same as fear.”
“So, you say,” Kallum laughed.
He protected the thought from his brothers, but they were correct. Fear coursed through him in that moment. Of course, there was no fathomable way they could smell it as Kallum had suggested, but they were certainly accurate in their assessment. It was that damned smirk. What could the boy be up to locked inside the fantasy he had concocted to trap the boy in his subconscious mind? As concerning as the idea was, he’d have to peek in eventually.
Geillan, the obelisks, the massive black stones, and both the light and dark melted away in favor of something far different than Ijilv expected. There were no fluffy clouds lazing about an impossibly blue sky filled with sunshine. Instead, the sky was pink. No, it was purple. Wait a minute. That sky was definitely orange. It suddenly occurred to Ijilv there wasn’t anything wrong with his vision, nor had he forgotten how to properly identify colors. The sky was shifting. Not quite the chaos outside the tower where Geillan lay sleeping between those four obelisks, but not the orderly perfection he had left for the boy’s mind to play in.
He was so intrigued by the sky that he failed to notice the absence of the lake. The last time he’d visited the boy there had been a lake there. It was gone, replaced by a wide field of unkempt purple weeds interrupted by the occasional bush. Those were hideous. Wild and rough with pointy, red needles nearly as long as a tree branch.
Geillan had obviously been busy manipulating Ijilv’s creation, but how? Where did he get these horrid visions to speckle about the once beautiful landscape? The boy had never been anywhere but this place. He must have gleaned these haunting ideas from his mother before destroying her. What else had he learned while scanning her mind and soul? More troubling than anything about the new and odd landscape was the thought of where the young man might be hiding in the awful place.
Kallum strolled from a dark hole within a bright orange mound surrounded by grotesque blue trees. They weren’t quite that, but it seemed they strived to be, twisted, leafless trees all gnarled up and sad. The trees weren’t near so disturbing as his brother though. Him he had left in that mock prison, gray and defeated. The being walking toward him was nothing of the sort. He glowed with all the glorious light befitting a god.
“You look as if you have seen a ghost,” Kallum boomed through a wide smile.
Ijilv felt as if he might vomit right there on the… It suddenly occurred to him that he was ankle deep in bright, yellow muck that only just failed at mocking the consistency of sloppy mud. Of course, there was nothing in him to vomit, but he remembered enough about the time before time to recall what it felt like. The perfect and horrible sound of Kallum’s voice brought him right back to that place. How? The small and gravelly thing he had left him with was gone. Could Geillan have done that? He must have. Worse still, the boy must have reasoned a method to borrow Kallum’s essence and his power.
He did his best to hide the shock and terror stomping about his mind when he finally replied, “You misread me, brother. Nothing happens in this place unless I will it.”
“Is that so?” Moshat’s voice boomed just as gloriously rich as Kallum’s had been, “Is that to say you sent Geillan to free us from our cell?”
“Of course, he must have,” Brerto laughed as he seemingly emerged from the scenery directly before Ijilv’s face.
“I did not direct him to release you,” Ijilv nearly stammered, “Nor did I command him to return you to your former countenance and glory. However, I did not prevent him from doing so.”
Kaldumahn suddenly appeared beside Ijilv with his arm draped across his shoulders, “You did not prevent him from doing so, because you had no idea what he was going to do. You must do as you see fit, of course. If it were me, I would worry greatly over how he managed to accomplish the task.”
“You have said yourself that he was under your complete control,” Moshat agreed, “Could it be you are losing power over your plaything?”
“You convinced him to kill his mother,” Brerto shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, what terror do you suppose he will unleash on you?”
Kallum approached quickly as if he planned to attack but stopped directly in front of Ijilv. “Kneel,” he commanded as he raised his hand high above his head.
Ijilv chuckled at the gesture, “Do not fool yourself into believing this new freedom my son has granted you gives you any power in this place. You are still completely under my control.”
Kallum’s cheeks trembled slightly with effort. “Damn,” he finally said before casually strolling off to stand near Moshat.
“I told you that would not work,” Brerto laughed at Kallum before turning his attention back to Ijilv, “The boy told us as much. He freed us from your prison because he was bored, if I recall correctly.”
“Yes,” Kaldumahn smiled, “That is precisely the word he used. He was bored and wanted some company.”
Brerto’s smile fled as his voice lowered and deepened, “Brother, you might as well give up the charade. We can all see the truth weighing down your troubled brow as uncertainty bends your back. It is time. Whatever you have planned for that boy needs to happen now. It is only a matter of time before he solves your puzzle and frees himself. Perhaps he will look more fondly upon you if you release him before that happens.”
“Fine,” Ijilv finally sighed, “You are correct. There is no sense hiding it from you any longer. You are still helplessly under my control, but the boy seems to be wriggling out from under my grasp. Take me to him.”
“I think we all might appreciate it if you would ask us nicely to assist you,” Moshat teased.
“Please,” Ijilv’s voice remained flat as he acquiesced.
Moshat beamed as he replied, “Thank you for that. It felt good. Sadly, we are not completely sure where he is right now.”
“This place is constantly changing,” Kaldumahn complained, “I would imagine this is a result of your pet’s boredom.”
“Though we cannot take you to him as you so rudely commanded, we can help you find him,” Brerto smiled, “Despite all you have done to us, I still feel an odd kinship with you. Furthermore, I think you truly believe whatever outcome you are reaching toward is the right thing for this world.”
“As diluted as you are, I believe you believe it too,” Kallum dryly offered.
It was an odd sensation warming Ijilv’s chest. Emotions are so petty. Of course, he always told his brothers he loved them, but those were just words. They were useful tools he had always been able to exploit. They served their purpose well. Yet, it was something akin to love that he felt in that moment. As simple and dry as his brothers’ proclamations were, they meant more to him than just words. Was it loneliness? Standing there exposed as near a fraud in front of his pious and pompous brothers, and they refrained from mocking him. He hoped the odd ideas tossing about in his mind failed to show on his face.
“What about that cave you emerged from?” he nodded his head toward the place where it had been.
Kallum turned toward the same spot and shrugged, “It is gone. Nothing remains constant in this queer place. It is like the lands surrounding your tower, chaotic and wild.”
The sky flashed a translucent green off in the distance. A wild shriek rumbled over the land mere moments after.
“Is that a storm?” Ijilv asked.
“Near enough,” Moshat answered.
“I think it would be wise to head in that direction,” Brerto suggested, “The boy was toying with the weather while he played with us.”
“What did he do to you?” Ijilv asked.
“Many things,” Kaldumahn offered, “He brought the storms while he had us fighting one another in our animal forms.”
“I finally got to battle the great eagle one on one,” Moshat smiled.
“You cheated,” Kallum complained.
“I did no such thing,” Moshat shook his head, “It is not my fault you were cursed with a beak instead of blessed with glorious fangs.”
“How did he know of your animal forms?” Ijilv asked.
“Probably from the brief moment he spent with his mother,” Brerto shrugged, “Dragon’s fire is more than just a mere element. Having access to it opens a man’s mind to things other creatures simply cannot access. Who knows how much time he spent strolling through her thoughts and memories in that moment, as brief as it seemed.”
Standing around and speculating about all these troubling thoughts brought him no closer to his goal. The sky flashed again in the distance. Ijilv nodded toward the spot where the bright green flash had occurred and led his brothers in that direction. The screech that followed came a bit quicker. Perhaps the storm was approaching. He wondered what rain concocted out of Geillan’s mind might feel like. Would it be slimy, hard, or maybe just wet like any other rain?
The five brothers strolled through a forest of those blue things that seemed so intent on being trees along a trail that twisted, turned, and doubled back so often it was impossible to discern in what direction they headed. Despite that lack of direction, the storm remained in the sky. Though it was not a straight path, they appeared to be getting closer to it.
Then the trees disappeared, and it seemed they were in a cave. The walls radiated with a sparkly pink, iridescent glow. Mushrooms of all sizes and colors grew randomly on the walls and floor of the place as a stream of shimmering, green liquid oozed its curvy way through it all. It looked too thick to be water, and the odd creatures that occasionally broke the surface were able to walk upon it.
Those creatures were at least as strange as the water. They resembled frogs with legs a hair too long, but they had shells on their heads and two rows of blood red spikes lining their slightly yellow tinged skin.
“What are those things?” Ijilv gasped.
“Nothing I have seen in any reality,” Kallum replied offhandedly.
“Nothing here occurs in nature,” Moshat agreed.
“At least, not on our side of the Lake,” Kaldumahn added.
“Where are all these ideas coming from?” Ijilv troubled.
“Perhaps they are not ideas, but malformed thoughts yet to be born,” Brerto offered.
“You speak of the subconscious,” Ijilv’s eyebrows raised as he pondered the thought. It would make sense, of course. He dared not share the rest of the thought. He didn’t want those ideas echoing in their minds. If Geillan had enough access to his own subconscious mind to bring his prisoners from one part of it to another, there is no telling what else he might be able to find.
“You have more to say…” Brerto began when the world around them began to swirl.
The colors went first, bleeding together on wind that seemed to originate from nowhere. Then the odd mushroom things were swept up, followed by the water, and finally the strange frog creatures with their formidable spikes. All of it whisked around the five of them until they were finally swept up in it.
Ijilv’s eyes went wide with fear as he failed to control the things happening around him. A quick glance at his four brothers assured him all but Kallum were equally concerned about the chaos warping around them. Three sets of wide eyes drenched in terror stared back at him along with Kallum’s dopey grin. The latter seemed to be enjoying the lack of control Ijilv had over a world he had created.
“You have crafted a nightmare for Ouloos over which you have absolutely no control,” Kallum scoffed.
A tear perched on one of Kaldumahn’s eyelids as he stared at Ijilv and asked, “Is this what you planned all along, to bring us all together so your monster could terrorize us before finally destroying us completely?”
The world just spun faster around them, colors and shapes bleeding together until it was all nothing more than a murky blur. Ijilv had to control it. He drew a slow, deep breath in through his nose. The air around them smelled like the instant immediately before a lightning strike. His face tightened around a scowl as he decided there would be no lightning. There would be no storm at all. He was done playing this silly game.
By the time his perfect mouth opened to respond, Ijilv had gained back enough control of his emotions to appear calm, even aloof, as he said, “Stop sniveling. The great silver lion who stalks the sky cannot be brought to tears by an illusion. Impossible. My son is having a tantrum. He finally had cause to use his great power to complete a horribly challenging task, and he is coming to terms with it. The boy killed his mother, burned her to ash with Dragon’s fire. I expected it would take him time to process the act.”
“This is a tantrum?” Kaldumahn lost the tear he’d been holding back as he spread his arms wide and glanced around dramatically at the swirling madness surrounding them.
“You failed to answer our dear brother’s question, Ijilv,” Kallum’s smile slithered off as he continued, “Was it your plan to have the boy torture us before finally destroying us in this horrid place?”
Ijilv’s smile feigned authenticity as he replied, “I have only had one singular goal since emerging from the Lake with all of you, watching the birth of this world. The mayhem surrounding us is merely a side-effect of my plan to achieve that goal. The birth of a world is no trivial thing. Billions of worlds fade from existence before ever achieving true consciousness. We must expect challenge and hardship if we hope to see this one to a different fate.”
The impossible colors and gut-wrenching shapes swirling at unimaginable speeds suddenly ceased. Complete darkness replaced them followed immediately by complete light absent any hint of shadow. The darkness had been so pitch, and the light so bright, Ijilv could no longer see his brothers. He couldn’t even see his own hands before him. Everything had been washed away. And then it was gone.
The world suddenly appeared less strange. Ijilv still stood with his brothers, but the sights around them appeared closer to the paradise he had created for Geillan. It wasn’t quite that place, but similar enough that he could at least recognize a hint of his will remaining in it.
Geillan was there lounging on a flat, smooth boulder casually skipping stones across the frothy purple waves of a vast lake. The mountains surrounding the oddly colored drink were a burnt orange. The sky above was bright pink interrupted by smoky blotches of forest green that must have been clouds despite the way they darted rather than lazed about.
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E. Michael Mettille is the author of Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1), Kallum’s Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2), Kill the Gods (Lake of Dragons Book 3), The Forgotten One (Lake of Dragons Book 4), and Hell and the Hunger (as Mike Reynolds). He has also written numerous short stories and poems. Mike has spent the last twenty years in direct marketing, print, and communication. He is fascinated by history, belief systems, the human condition and how all of those things work together to define who we are as a people. The world is a wonder and, based on the history of us, it is a wonder we have a world left to wonder about. Mike lives in Franklin, WI with his wife, Shelia, and their two dogs, Ziggy Stardust and Lady Stardust.
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Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/themikereynolds
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