Kill the Gods - Cover Reveal

Title: Kill the Gods
Series: Lake of Dragons Series #3
By: E. Michael Mettille
Publication Date: May 15, 2021
Publisher: TMR Books
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
Genre: Epic Fantasy

Druindahl’s forces have been decimated by a vengeful hero while the castle at Havenstahl lies in ruin, toppled by a violent and angry god. Both great cities desperately need the protection of their heroes, but those heroes are damnably absent. Maelich remains trapped in a fantasy concocted by his own wounded psyche, while Cialia has determined her role is to defend all creatures of Ouloos.

Perrin’s search for her precious Geillan takes her deep into the heart of the place where the maps don’t go, and even deeper into peril. Her journey toward becoming a warrior of the trail will take her to places she can barely imagine and force her to do things she can scarcely believe.

Reinforcements begin docking in Biggon’s Bay, more ships, more Trogmortem, and more terrifying giants. However, their forces are in disarray. Maomnosett Bom, son of Bok, challenges his grandfather’s campaign against the cities of dwarves and men. Ott considers Bom’s behavior an act of war against his own kind. Lucky to make it out alive, the young giant departs with a small group of like-minded warriors to seek an unlikely alliance with the men of Havenstahl.
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The next battle looms on the horizon as a loose Dragon, born of both the Lake and men, hunts her prey on her campaign to kill the gods.

CHAPTER 1

DARKNESS

Pain can be a tricky thing, difficult to gauge. The same pain can be at one moment merely an annoyance detracting from one’s ability to focus on the task at hand while in the next moment the only thing on which they can focus. The throbbing in Doentaat’s leg when he woke in darkness so pitch blindness seemed the only possibility was the latter. Rather than pushing the pain away from his focus, the disorienting fear of being without sight and unaware of his surroundings only served to strengthen it. It pulsed like someone stood above him repeatedly striking the same spot on his thigh with a hammer. Attempting to sit up only made it worse, like a jagged spear tore through his flesh. The sound he made as he gave in to the pain and lay back was something to which a warrior of his stature would never admit. The Lake could have his soul if only his agony might cease.

As the dwarf king lay in darkness waiting for death to come and end his suffering, his focus shifted. It seemed accepting his eventual demise somewhat numbed him to the pain. Of course, the throbbing in his leg had not ceased. However, it slowly loosened its grip on his awareness, or he simply stopped caring about it. As his breathing grew steady and his heart rate slowed, the why seemed increasingly less important. His mind drifted to other things, and he followed.

Helpless to do much else besides lie on the hard ground and wait for death, his mind slipped to his argument with Bindaar. They had been in his chamber talking about the war ships anchoring up in Biggon’s Bay when the great horn of Havenstahl—one of the twin horns of Galgooth—blared. The sound sparked something in him, some hidden longing lying just beneath his awareness. That spark must have shown on his face.

“Don’t even think about it,” his old chum and most trusted general had told him. “The king’s royal rump had best remain firmly planted in its throne. Leave the fighting to your solidas.”

Whether it had been hubris or defiance—the king gives orders, he does not take them—his response had been less than agreeable. “This from the scrawny waste I molded into a proper dwarf. Anything good about you, you learned from me. Tell me you don’t presume to stand in my own chambers and give me orders.”

The memory of the look on his old friend’s face hurt almost as bad as the throbbing in his leg. “No,” he looked as if he might lose a tear, “I presume nothing, but reports of what came riding in on them ships have me worried for my king’s…my friend’s…safety. This ain’t a pack of rogue grongs. They say giants fill them massive ships. My friend, you have risked your own skin to save mine more than once. I seek only to repay the favor in kind. But what do I know? The king does what the king wants.”

Of course, he failed to heed the warning, and Bindaar stormed out of the room. That was the last they had spoken as chums. When the five battalions Alhouim sent to support Havenstahl in the battle at Fort Maomnosett formed up to march, he gave the orders, and Bindaar obeyed like the rest of his generals. He recalled that same look on his old friend’s face—the frightened, sad, fury, fear that looked like tears waiting to spill onto rough cheeks—when the battalions split to take up their assigned positions, but he ignored it. Friend or no friend, there was not a dwarf alive who would give him orders.

The benefit of hindsight can help a dwarf make better decisions in the future, but it cannot undo foolish decisions once they have been made. Had he listened to his old friend’s wise counsel, he would not be blind and lying helpless in… It suddenly occurred to him that his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness surrounding him. He was not blind. The pain in his leg was still nagging him enough to stifle a chuckle at how easily he let himself fall to panic, but it did nothing to keep him from feeling a bit of shame. Luckily, nobody would ever know about the moment of weakness but him.

Doentaat had not been elevated to the status of king of Alhouim by his peers because he allowed things to be done to him. He was a dwarf of action. He did things. He controlled situations, and that was precisely what he intended to do with the one he was in, control it. The world around him was still very dark, like the late hours of a moonless night. However, he was not deep into a night of any kind. The light filtering through the canopy above him was faint, but it was there. It took mere moments for him to realize he was deep in a dense forest, and the last bits of light were fading from the western sky. Had he woken just a few hours earlier, the fear of potential blindness would never have entered his mind.

With blindness out of the way as a pressing matter, Doentaat could focus on what had quickly become his most pressing matter. Despite a great urge to ignore it, the throbbing pain in his leg demanded attention. Shifting focus back to it was like blowing on a smoldering fire. Intense and furious, it flared again. Though he was not blind, there was insufficient light to see the cause of his agony. Touching the spot certainly would do nothing to ease the pain at all. Simply moving felt like a spear was shoved through the spot. He did not want to imagine what touching it might do. Therefore, he did not imagine it very long. He gritted his teeth and got to it.

It was worse than he thought. His fingers slid slowly down his right leg toward the source of distress. His trousers were torn open, the edges crusty. Though the carnage remained hidden from sight, the spot was obviously saturated with blood. How long had he been unconscious? Considering there was no wetness, it had to be a while. It made no sense to put it off any longer. He had to assess the damage. He clenched his teeth together so tightly it hurt his jaw as he shoved his fingers into a deep, ragged gash. The spear was back, and this time it sliced through and twisted. It was difficult to tell whether it was bone or meat his fingers probed, but the cut was deep, wide, and full of gore. Through tightly clenched teeth, his howl sounded more like a war cry than a pitiable expression of pain. His hand shot to his dagger, quickly slipping it out of its scabbard. He desperately wanted to plunge it into his gut and twist, end his own suffering. That would be the coward’s way out. King Doentaat was anything but a coward. The Lake had failed to claim him, and he had no intention of giving it an easy meal.

Amazon US - http://bit.ly/LODKFKindle
Amazon UK - http://bit.ly/KDFKindleUK
Amazon CA - http://bit.ly/KTGKindleCA

E. Michael Mettille is the author of To Kill the Dragon (Lake of Dragons Book 1), Kallum’s Fury (Lake of Dragons Book 2), 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 Milwaukee, WI with his wife, Shelia.

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