The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons

by Aaron Dennis

  Labolas didn’t reply. He instead shrugged indifferently while watching Shinji leap off the bench. The bandit leader was still laughing at Relthys when the Nagishman ripped off his travel cloak in one swift maneuver. Shinji revealed his white, ghi pants, wooden sandals, and a long, curved sword held in a shiny, black scabbard made of wood. The sword’s guard was round, and the long handle was wrapped in decorative, blue cloth.

  “The water worshiper wants to play?” the bandit grinned.

  In less than a second, the blonde haired warrior was a flurry of limbs. Shinji had darted up to the bandit, stepped his right foot way out in front of himself and drew his blade from the glossy, black scabbard in a manner that drove the pommel straight in the bandit’s abdomen. As the bandit reeled, Shinji sheathed his blade, threw a back fist with that same hand as though it sprung right off the sword, and delivered a jumping kick into the chin of the loudmouth. When the bandit leader fell back in astonishment—the pain from the heel of the wooden sandal was incredible—all Hell broke loose; everyone attacked the cart.

  Shinji managed to cut in front of two sweaty men before they reached the wagon. He swept out the feet from one man and leaned into him, which forced him to crash into his bandit compatriot. Though they tumbled over unharmed, another bandit waving a hatchet dashed at Relthys, who had only just come to his feet. Before the Nagish warrior could intervene, Scar propelled himself from the cart ready to earn his keep. His massive body collided, elbow first, with the would-be attacker. The collision sent Relthys reeling and back onto his bottom.

  While Shinji slashed his elegant and slightly curved bade in arcs, and Scar threw fists and big boots, Labolas calmly held out his left hand by his hip, took a long inhalation, and released it. The steel bracer clasped over his left wrist gently vibrated.

  It was evident the bandits were outclassed and outmatched. Shinji and Scar had already felled three men. The four that remained eyed their leader. The brigand finally stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat at the ground.

  “You think you’re tough, eh?” The bandit leader growled. “I’ll show the lot of you…the might of Kulshedra!”

  After yelling, he ran towards Shinji and Scar. Steel rings from the tops of his boots peeled away and folded back on to his calves and over his knees, but as the warriors steeled themselves, pink feathers suddenly appeared against the bandit’s throat. The man gurgled, choked, and stumbled about. An arrow was protruding from the back of the man’s neck. Both Shinji and Scar turned to the cart. Labolas had fired one arrow and had another nocked.

  Quick as lightning, the Captain of the Legion of Archers released two more arrows. The bandit opportunists turned tail to run, but Labolas felled one more. He then eyed Scar with a stern countenance.

  “Tell me, Brandt,” Labolas demanded. “With seven bandits dead, do we let the last one run for his life or do we cut him down without mercy?”

  Scar scrutinized the man in the wagon. Plated armor had appeared over his left shoulder, down his elbow, and over his hand. Between the advanced weaponry and commanding grace, the prospective king wasn’t sure what to make of him. Labolas, the captain, was a demanding man of war.

  Scar turned to look at the fleeing bandit; he was little more than a speck on the chaparral. “What separates us from bandits is mercy, no?”

  “Perhaps…perhaps that is so, but will you show everyone mercy?”

  “I will let my heart decide.”

  “That, my friend, is a redeemable answer.”

  Labolas set down his bow and closed his eyes to relax. Scar witnessed the archer’s armor vibrate, grow blurry, and then the steel plates folded into each other down to his elbow where tiny, steel scales rolled around the back of the arm and out of sight. The gauntlet over Labolas’s hand also retreated towards the wrist until all that remained was a simple, steel bracer.

  After that display, Scar turned to Shinji, who was wriggling back into his cloak. The Nagish warrior helped Relthys to his feet. With an inhalation to steady his nerves, the mercenary eyed his surroundings, hoping for a clue regarding the bandit’s base of operation.

  “I can’t believe you let that confounded man run away,” Relthys suddenly accosted them.

  “Calm yourself, old man, lest you become reacquainted with the ground,” Scar joked.

  “Bah!” Relthys grumbled. “Look at what those animals did to my cart. Tell me, mercenary, King, how will your mercy fix my wagon?”

  “How would that man’s death do any different?” Scar countered.

  Relthys, at an obvious disadvantage, waved his hand and stormed off to sit down on a rock.

  Labolas hopped down to join Shinji and Scar. They all got down on hands and knees to peek at the damage underneath the carriage. It was not severe, but the wooden axle holding the wheel was beyond repair. They needed replacement.

  Chapter Nine- A biased education

  “Confound it all!” Relthys shouted.

  The old Kulshedran was more than irate. He was absolutely fuming about the damage done to his cart.

  “You must’ve endured bandit attacks before,” Labolas stated.

  “Well of course, you fool,” the old man countered.

  “Easy, now,” Shinji tried to placate his comrade.

  “Shut up, you silvery goon,” Relthys objected. “And you,” he pointed a finger at Labolas, “you just let the last of ‘em run away.”

  Labolas winced and shook his head in annoyance. The day grew fairly hot and seemed to make everyone extra fussy. He placed his fists on his hips. Shinji wiped sweat from his brow. Scar leaned against the cart, trying to catch some shade.

  “Well, what do you suppose we do?” Relthys finally asked with a modicum of control.

  His old body yet trembled from only slightly quelled rage. Labolas cocked his mouth to the side and stroked his bearded chin.

  “Eresh is the closest town,” the archer ventured. “If we start on our way now, we can get there before nightfall.”

  “And I’m just supposed to leave my supplies?” Relthys howled.

  “I’ll stand guard,” Scar offered.

  “You?” the old man grumbled with a raise of bushy eyebrows.

  Scar raised his own hairless brow and asked, “Why not me? I don’t know the area, I have no business in Eresh. You three go and secure whatever help you need. Just come back and fix the cart so we can get on with it.”

  “Oh! Confound it all,” Relthys resigned himself by dropping his head into his hands.

  Labolas could not hold back a chuckle. The old man peeked through his fingers and murmured something obscene to himself.

  “Relthys,” Shinji whispered. “Would you like it if I stay with the wagon? You can stay here, too. Let them go on to Eresh. It’s the best solution.”

  “I don’t care what you decide,” Relthys answered, stomped his foot like a child, and turned his back from his sitting position.

  Labolas grinned and shook his head in dismay while looking at Scar, who in turn smiled back. “Well, let’s get a move on,” Scar offered.

  “Yes,” Labolas agreed. “We’ll be back as fast as we can manage,” he added in a conciliatory tone.

  So the two men marched off towards the southeast and off the road. Falcons cried out overhead, their fleeting shadows swooped over shrubs and stones. Though things had taken a turn for the worst, and Scar wondered about the delay, he was glad everyone was unharmed. Relthys was a crotchety old fuddy-duddy, but Scar had liked his honesty and he enjoyed Shinji’s fighting prowess. The most astonishing event, though, had been Labolas’s armor.

  “You Kulshedrans certainly have a strange magic,” he said.

  “I prefer to call it a blessing.”

  “Does Relthys have no blessing?” Scar asked.

  Labolas frowned and with a subtle shrug of uncertainty, he said, “Who knows…some of us don’t seem to have faith. That’s all.”

  They remained silent for a time. Marching in cadence created the sounds of he
avy boots grinding rocks or shrubs into the hard soil. A scarce few puffs of white clouds way up high in the blue sky floated off to the west. There was no shade and no trees.

  Scar really wanted to get back to the old discussion; Gods and Dragons. He did not want to upset his friend, but the burning question yet remained unanswered. He cleared his throat once, but his own self-absorption prevented him from formulating the proper query. After a moment’s pause, he finally gave in to his nagging heart.

  “I hate to bring this up again,” he chuckled. “But if every tribe has specific blessings they bestow to warriors, who believe, then how can anyone attest that any one God is the real God?”

  “I hate that you bring this up again, too,” Labolas answered curtly.

  For a time he did not touch the subject, but it was a long road, and he knew the mysterious fellow was only trying to comprehend a very mysterious world. In fact, it was that issue- trying to understand the ploys of God, or Gods, that led to war. Labolas wanted to see peace in his lifetime, yet he believed that was only possible if everyone, or mostly everyone, acquiesced to the belief of only one God.

  “I guess I can’t attest to anything save experience,” the archer broke the silence after some twenty minutes. “In my life I have seen the blessings of many tribes. I don’t claim to have the real answer. I cannot possibly hope to comprehend the designs of a deity. All I can say is that every tribe does receive some blessing, a very specific blessing according to his tribe, and the intensity of that blessing is usually predicated on faith. Sometimes it is predicated on other virtues.”

  Scar tried to let the words sink in, make some sense, but he still felt something was missing. He looked at the dusty ground without saying a word while he kept pace with the seemingly tireless captain, not that his own constitution was lacking.

  “Where do I fit in? I guess that’s my real issue, here.”

  Labolas nodded almost imperceptibly, saying, “Again, I can’t hope to comprehend that either, Brandt. I wish I could shed more light on your plight.”

  “You made a rhyme,” Scar chuckled.

  Labolas also laughed. Their comradery did ease the tension of such a heated topic. As the blazing sun continued to beat down upon their forms, Labolas struggled to assist; he tried to keep his own self-reflection at bay and simply asses the discussion objectively.

  “Listen,” he started. “Brandt, it’s everyone’s lot in life to deduce how they fit in. I don’t think any man can give you that answer. You will have to acquiesce to Kulshedra. He is God of Truth after all.”

  Scar rubbed the sweat off his head. He grumbled about the heat as they marched their way up a steady incline. The land was on a slope. After some time, the two came to the descending side of the slope and towards the river.

  “I don’t see why I should acquiesce to anyone. None of them have blessed me,” Scar sighed.

  “You heal quickly. You are tireless. Hell, you were set on fire and have recovered. How can you claim to have no blessing?” Labolas countered in a tone of reverence.

  The mercenary nodded, his heavy mood slowly dispelling. “These are not blessings of Kulshedra.”

  “No, I suppose they are not.”

  “There are thirteen tribes,” Scar started up again. “Each with its own territory, people, and blessings, but you say there was once another kingdom. Was there a tribe of Alduheim?”

  Labolas admitted he had never heard of such a tribe. The kingdom of Alduheim was ancient and little of it was known. It was a while yet before he said anything else.

  “Gilgamesh is the man to answer your questions. He is much closer to Kulshedra, much closer to truth.”

  “If you don’t mind indulging me further.”

  “Yes?”

  “I had asked if the paladins wage war against each other.”

  “I believe only Paladins of Severity only ever attack other paladins. Severity is, after all, all they know.”

  “An abysmal existence to want to extinguish everyone simply over a lack of conformity.”

  Labolas’s eye twitched. He was unsure if Scar was speaking allegorically. “Do you refer to the tribes wanting everyone to fall under one deity?”

  Scar had not made that connection and was only speaking existentially. The mercenary was almost shocked by his friend’s question.

  “I, I’m not sure, now that you mention it. I had only meant that those paladins appear, well, severe,” Scar replied and laughed. “To change the subject.”

  “Please,” Labolas interrupted.

  “Yes, well, I’m wondering what role Alduheim is to play in this worldwide conflict. I mean, am I to side with Kulshedra? Simply be an ally? Who will my people be? There is, this is just too much…I don’t even know who I am!”

  “Peace, Brandt,” Labolas consoled and placed a hand on his friends wrist. “You should not even hope to force these issues nor try to find all the answers in one day. Let the course of life find its way to you. Besides, you are whoever it is you want to be. Perhaps you cannot recall who you are for that very reason. In fact, how do you know that you are not part of Kulshedra’s great design? You may well have been sent here by him.”

  Scar managed a weak smile. In spite of his prowess in battle, Labolas was quite the philosopher. The mercenary was impressed and was very glad to have such a friend. He thought back to their first meeting during the defeat of Lovenhaad.

  “Kings don’t rule alone, my friend,” the Kulshedran smiled softly. “Take Gilgamesh, he has many advisors and counselors.”

  “He does?” Scar was astonished.

  “Well, sure,” Labolas chirped. “No one can rule a country alone.”

  “But I thought he spoke directly to Kulshedra. Why would such a man need the advice of subjects? Would they not be fallible?”

  That was a chord which rang true, and for a moment Labolas did not have an answer. “Well, I,” he stammered. “Ah,” he said as though an insight had come upon him. “I can’t say for sure, as I have never asked, but it is a safe assumption that they advise him on matters of strategy, conflict resolution, trade, and local governance. Certainly he does not plague Kulshedra with insignificant queries.”

  Scar nodded with understanding. All these blasted worries, he thought. It would have been simpler to just be a mercenary for hire, but it looks like that is not who I am. Perhaps I am meant to be King. My concerns for these people grow every day. His internal dialogue gave way to recent events in Usaj.

  After being accosted by the Dracos, he had wandered into the country ruled by Zoltek; they were all people concerned only with attacking the other tribes. They truly had no allies and did not seem to hope for any kind of peace. Their resolution was one of bloodshed. They were all guided by the principle of severity…I think there is more to these paladins than just confusion. I think they may be on to something…Gods and Dragons…Gods and Dragons.

  The men continued trudging in the heat for hours. No more words were uttered for a long time. Before the sun set, and as a cooler wind finally started to blow, they followed the Iles north and came upon a large bridge built over the river. Massive, brown rectangular pylons supported the structure. Water rushed against the Kulshedran architecture. At that spot the river was nearly a hundred feet across and the lines of sediment made it clear that it crested, at one time or another, at nearly three hundred feet.

  “We’re not far now,” Labolas broke the silence. Scar said nothing. He was intently gazing upon the bridge. The dark brown stone blended in nicely with the dark blue river and the dusty brown soil. There was a bit more vegetation in that vicinity, due no doubt to the river.

  “A fine bridge, no?”

  “Such a marvelous structure,” Scar replied.

  “Discovered the love of architecture all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know that it’s sudden,” he retorted. “I feel as though people who can raise such structures ought to be able to find a way to negotiate peace, bridge the gap, so to speak. There are better
things to do than fight.”

  Labolas pursed his lips and nodded nearly imperceptibly adding, “The architects have indeed erected magnificent constructs, but peace, like the bridge, must be laid one stone at a time.”

  Scar mused over a life free of violence. He tried to think about whether he held any talents or skills besides mowing down enemies. There was nothing in his memory of the sort. To the best of his knowledge, he was just a fighter.

  The mercenary smiled for a moment then started to cross the bridge. “What’s Eresh like?”

  Labolas marched over the bridge alongside him, and as he looked over the rail to the raging river below, he replied, “A military town. Mostly everyone there is a soldier. It is so close to Juhir, a town on the Satrone-Sudai border, that it requires some extra regulations. Though the people of Gyo are allies, we always protect our borders.”

  “People of Gyo?”

  “We call them Gyosh.”

  “Gyosh? Like a Gyosh warrior?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gyo is the God of…?”

  “The sun…they say.”

  “Yet, you are allies.”

  “That is correct,” Labolas struggled for a moment to provide an explanation to a question Scar was sure to ask. They were both on the other side of the bridge by then. “It is said that Gyo, God of the Sun, believes that both Kulshedra and Khmer, while not true Gods, are bearers of truth and life respectively and as such their people must be of good will.”

  “But you are at war with Khmer,” Scar interrupted.

  “Indeed, which often strains our Gyosh relationship, but the agreement between Gilgamesh and Munir, their sultan, is so long as they don’t hinder or help either of us against each other, they will support our struggle against, say, Zoltek.

  “So, Gilgamesh is at war with Zoltek, and the leader of Khmer?”

  “His…or her…? The leader of Khmer, we do not know if it is male or female, but it is called Sahni, and yes. Gilgamesh is at war with Zoltek, like everyone, and with Sahni. Our real allies in all this are the Dracos and Scultonians, but even the latter is occasionally disconcerting.”