The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons

by Aaron Dennis

  “In some worlds, those men defeated the Dragons, not killed, but sealed them away by forgetting that they ever existed. In your world the humans forgot about both the Gods, and the Dragons. Both Gods and Dragons fought desperately to remain, and now you have the case of trickery.”

  “I don’t understand,” Scar complained.

  “You will.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I’m just a man without a past. Who am I? Please, Dragon, tell me! It is my only concern.”

  “You are Sarkany, the Dragon Slayer. You do not have a past, because I did not give you one. You have but one purpose. Slay the Dragons. Retrieve their souls.”

  “Monster! Why should I?”

  Another pause erupted like a hole in the darkness. Scar felt it as omnipotent eyes rooting around in search of something ineffable. That voice, that presence calling itself Eternus was inside him.

  “Ah, you have become more human than I anticipated, and here we have the crux of awareness. Even I cannot foresee the outcome, but I do not want to. Experience itself is always a surprise. You may yet find your own reason. You have already grown fond of men. I have seen you helping them.”

  “I have killed them, too,” Scar retorted. “And there are many that I hate.”

  “Love and hate, Sarkany. I fashioned you as a man and not a Dragon, because that is your purpose. You will find your own reason to kill the Dragons.”

  Scar pondered the significance of the information provided. He still thought it was a preposterous dream, but another part of his mind told him quite the opposite. It was a strange, untapped portion of himself that he was unable to pinpoint. When he tried to focus on that aspect, his mind grew jumbled, and his internal dialogue focused on everything else.

  “Peace. You cannot hope to unravel such mysteries…our time is over, now. Wake.”

  “Wait!”

  ****

  Scar opened his eyes wide and took a deep inhalation. The shadowed walls of the wooden shack slowly came into view. He sat up in the cot, rubbed his eyes then turned to put his feet on the ground. A strange voice like distant thunder played in his memory, but it was too fleeting. Did I dream again? A vague feeling of some unspeakable yet pressing matter grew into melancholy. He stood up, lightly kicked Labolas in the hip and waited for his friend to wake.

  “Brehf,” Labolas murmured. “Time to rise already, eh?”

  The archer sat up and stretched. Maranjo and Hachi rolled from their hammocks and came to their feet as well, apparently fully awake. In a matter of seconds they had retied their pouches to their belts, snatched some satchels off the ground, which they slung over their shoulders, and started out of the shack. Labolas followed suit slothishly, and everyone gathered outdoors. The night was crisp and clear.

  Scar rolled his shoulders to loosen his neck. Labolas made inappropriate comments about missing breakfast, but Scar was overly concerned with his own mood to laugh. His friend chalked Scar’s sullen behavior up to fatigue, yet laughed at his own comment, whatever it had been. The new men simply waited patiently.

  “We have our mounts?” Scar asked.

  “General Sulas has made arrangements,” Hachi stated.

  “Horses should be waiting at the stables,” Maranjo added with his thick accent.

  As they all took off toward the west side of town. Scar noticed that only he and Labolas made sounds as they marched. The other two men walked in complete silence. Their movements were extraordinarily lithe.

  After passing by two, wooden posts supporting lanterns on the hard packed streets of Eresh, they came upon a guard on camel back doing her rounds. She nodded to them, but aimed a watchful eye at Scar. He paid her no mind as he was busy looking at the lodgings stationed on the way to the stables. A row of longhouses each with several windows revealed cots and hammocks inside. The glow from the lanterns on nightstands adjacent the windows provided enough light to peek inside, and Scar’s stature was sufficient to see directly into the longhouses.

  Moments later, they made it to the stables; several wooden stalls neatly walled in on three sides. The scent of horses was on the wind. Under the thatched roof, a Kulshedran guard greeted them, led everyone in, and provided four stout horses. They were large, brown horses, bigger even than the ones, which had pulled Relthys’s cart. The young man made outlandish claims of Satronian breeds versus Nabalhian.

  “I’m just glad they’re horses,” Labolas joked.

  “What else would they be?” Hachi asked as he climbed onto the saddle.

  “Those ugly camels, I guess,” Scar answered.

  Labolas chuckled, but the other two didn’t seem to have a sense of humor. Maranjo climbed his saddle and rode out onto the streets with Hachi right behind him. Labolas looked Scar in the eye.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “About the horses?” Scar asked.

  With a wince Labolas corrected, “About the men my father sent with us.”

  “I sense they are built to follow orders not think for themselves.”

  The archer pursed his lips and added, “I think you’re right. They’re spies, you know, not warriors.”

  “Why has your father sent spies with us?” Scar asked as he hopped onto his horse.

  By then Labolas was on horseback as well. Together the two rode out and met their new comrades.

  “We will see soon enough,” Labolas huffed. “Men, we should ride directly west until we reach the main road.”

  “Agreed,” Hachi said.

  “Understood,” Maranjo accepted.

  So they did ride west. Hooves thrashed over soil and greenish shrubberies. Leaving Eresh behind in only a matter of minutes, the crisp morning air invigorated the men. Silence prevailed until they arrived at the packed road that tied all the major towns and cities of Satrone together. It had taken only a few hours. By then the morning sun had already broken the spell of darkness. Thick plants grew about the ground. Their curly leaves were wet with the dew of early morning. Birds chirped and landed about to peck at the ground before taking flight from the men’s hurried ride.

  Deliberately, the men slackened their pace. From a steady gallop, the horses were reduced to trotting. Labolas started fiddling with his satchel. He pulled out some of the fruit he had saved from the night before.

  “Anyone hungry?” he called out.

  Scar rode next to him and shook his head. The other two had relaxed their pace a little more and rode behind. That provided Scar and Labolas an opportunity to talk privately. The future king leaned towards the captain.

  “Something on your mind?” Labolas asked. Scar was reluctant to answer. He frowned, but said nothing. Once he went so far as to open his mouth. Opting to forgo elaboration, he just huffed instead. “So…yes?” Labolas prodded.

  “I think I had another dream last night, and though I can’t for the life of me remember it, I feel, I don’t know, disappointed maybe.”

  “Disappointed that you can’t remember?”

  “No,” Scar’s smile flickered. “Disappointed like, I really don’t know. Perhaps I’m just frazzled from the stress of everything.”

  Labolas reached out to pat him on the shoulder, but the horses’ movements made him miss and he laughed. Scar sighed. He wanted to laugh, but then he remembered something about Dragons. I have to kill them….

  Chapter Twelve- The King of Truth

  The setting sun was low on the horizon, casting a reddish glare over the soils of Satrone. The mercenary’s mood had lightened a bit during the ride, and though he remained introspective, he was present enough to provide his full attention.

  “My father has been trying to groom me for his position since he received it,” the archer said.

  “It sounds like a fine position to hold.”

  “Sons are born to rebel,” Labolas huffed. “I always wanted to choose my own path, and I’m better with a bow than intelligence. I’m not as sharp as my father, nor as cunning.”

  “You’ve seen to everything so far; findin
g me, planning our trip to Tironis, you’re handling those two back there.”

  Labolas rubbed his chin before taking a sip from his canteen. He handed it to Scar who waved it off.

  “You should drink. It has been a warm day.”

  “These winds are refreshing enough. Besides, I do not thirst at the moment.”

  “You didn’t eat last night either.”

  “I’m fine. I do not require as much food and drink as everyone else…as a matter of fact, I don’t recall ever being hungry or thirsty…I mean, I eat and drink when I want to, but it has never been a requirement, at least not from what I can recall.”

  “You are an odd individual, but soon the answers you seek will be provided,” Labolas smiled.

  “What will you do when we get there, to Tironis, I mean?”

  “Well, now,” Labolas paused to organize his thoughts. “I will have to leave you with Gilgamesh. The spies and I will then ride out to carry on my father’s request.”

  “You wish to avoid it?” Scar asked, sensing the tone of distress in his friend’s voice.

  “No…well, yes, but not enough to shirk my responsibility. If he says that Gilgamesh has agreed to it then I must honor both their requests.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Gilgamesh also has you in mind to succeed your father.”

  “Perhaps, though I had hoped my position as Captain of the Legion of Archers would prevail.”

  Having left the more arid region of Satrone, the riders passed by wispy trees. Birds scattered from their branches upon the approach of horses. Scar watched their flight into the darkening sky. The lament of insects and other distant birds erupted over the chilled winds.

  “Are there other legions?” Scar asked.

  “Sure,” he smiled. “The Legion of Guards, The Legion of Riders, The Legion of Infantry,” Labolas paused, pondering his feelings. He squinted at the horizon. The inclined slope of the hill upon which they traveled obscured the road for a while. “I have worked diligently to make Captain. It has quite literally been my life’s work. I know my father is proud of my accomplishments, but he has always been disappointed that I am not the man he is. I have seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, yet he still tries to send me on these missions….

  “I botched the last one. It was my hope that after the failure, he would no longer push the issue. It seems I was mistaken.”

  “What happened?” Scar asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Oh, a contingent of Bakunawans were intercepting Nagish forces in Dosvetyulia from mounting a surprise attack on Khmerans in Alduheim. I was supposed to find out where they were stationed, with whom they were consorting, why they were assisting Khmerans, and who their leader was.”

  “Bakunawans?” Scar interrupted. “I thought they were allied with Bollans.”

  “We thought so, too, or at least, most Kulshedrans share this belief, but Bakunawans have recently showed Khmeran support, which does not bode well for us. Though the island of Qing-Sho bears difficulty in moving into the warring territories, their own spies and Special Forces are supremely effective.”

  “Hachi is Bakunawan,” Scar furrowed his brow as he spoke.

  “Yes, and I wouldn’t trust him, but my father knows everything about everyone, so if he places his trust, and my life, in that man, I have to…to make peace with that.”

  “Yet you seem reluctant.”

  “Like I said, I am not as sharp as my father; I am unable to predict the plots of men.”

  “What happened on your last mission?”

  Labolas winced and looked off into the landscape again. Crows cawed, and insects buzzed their sad aria into the evening. The archer turned to Scar, gave a weak smile, and took a breath.

  “Since the Bakunawans and Bollans share a modest allegiance to one another, they were able to move through the caves of Dosvetyulia under the pretense of gathering their own intelligence on Alduheim, something altogether too prevalent nowadays. When they reached the Khmeran border, they slaughtered the Nagish team who was there to keep the Khmerans from inciting conflict with Tiamatish explorers. By the time I made my arrival, the Bakunawans were gone and a team of Khmeran assassins attacked us.”

  “Vexing that people of life would have assassins.”

  “Khmerans may hold the blessing of life, but it is a curious blessing, and one of the reasons I can’t believe that their God is a true God. They do not seem to die the way everyone else does…though I have to admit Scultonians are also odd in that regard.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Labolas had a look of impatience, but he resigned himself to answering. “The blessing of life heals Khmerans. They are unable to wield their power unto themselves directly, but one Khmeran priest can hold prayer to keep his men healing rather quickly…this is why I did not comment on your ability to recover. You did tell me you heal quickly and well, so do they. What I mean when I say that they do not die like us is that you must sever their heads in order to kill them, otherwise their priests will return them to the field of battle.”

  Scar remained silent for a moment. He turned back to observe the general’s spies. In the growing darkness they were just shadowy figures. Hachi’s eyes produced an effervescent glow for a moment then it vanished. Curious about what the power of light might be, the mercenary raised a hairless eyebrow.

  “Khmeran assassins killed your men?” Scar finally asked after facing his friend.

  “Yes. I practically walked into a trap. What bothers me the most is that the only way the Khmeran assassins could have known that Kulshedrans were on their way to hold conference with the Nagish was for them to receive word from the Bakunawans.”

  “Why is that the only way they could have known?”

  “Because Bakunawans can foresee certain events to some extent. They say that the power of light is strong in their leader, Hashnora, that he can see all that will come. I find that quite difficult to believe. If it were so, we would either have peace in the world, or the Bakunawans would have full control…at any rate, they must have known I was coming and informed the Khmerans.”

  “But why would they do that? Are Bakunawans allied with Khmerans?” Scar was incredulous.

  “I just don’t know anymore,” Labolas said and shook his head in despair. “This is why there is no way for me to succeed my father, and I wish he could just understand that. There are men and women more fit for such a task.”

  “You sound distraught over your failure.”

  “I am saddened my failure caused comrades to fall to evil forces,” Labolas explained.

  “How did you manage to survive?”

  “I didn’t make Captain by losing on the field of battle. The men I led were simply ill equipped in that regard…they were too young, inexperienced. They panicked when the attack commenced and forgot their training.”

  “You would not normally be in charge of finding someone like me then. I mean, it is not a mission for the Captain of the Legion of Archers,” Scar surmised.

  “That is correct. Again, it was my father who beseeched Gilgamesh and begged him for another chance to show him that I can succeed.”

  “You’re doing a fine job so far.”

  “Thank you, and I am very glad to have met you, Brandt, but I wish we could have met under more friendly circumstances. Now we ride on to Tironis, where I will leave you in the hands of Gilgamesh. I do not know what will become of you, nor do I know how my next mission will play out. These are tumultuous times…Kulshedra be with us all.”

  The archer’s gloomy tone and glassy eyes was more than Scar cared to bear. Instead of being swayed by emotion, he gazed upon the horizon. A shadowed structure loomed largely in the distance. The walls of Tironis were near. Many small spots of light glowed about the structure. Scar figured they were gas lamps burning brightly along the city’s exterior. Night had swooped in quickly during their relaxed ride.

  “That is Tironis?”

  “Yes, we are nearly there,
and not a moment too soon,” Labolas answered. “The walls were built all around the capital ages ago. No force can penetrate them directly. No country has ever attacked Tironis successfully, and no man has ever penetrated the walls of Inneshkigal, the palace, since Gilgamesh inherited the throne from his father, Horthomesh.”

  The reverence in Labolas’s voice made Scar’s body shudder. He knew his friend was truly proud to be Kulshedran and that his loyalty to his country and its sovereign were unwavering. It was an inapplicable feeling for Scar.

  He was nobody. He had no one and held no allegiance to anyone except his friend. What would I do if pressed to carry on a mission I did not care to…what should I do if I don’t want to be King?

  A row of stone obelisks lined the cobbled road from fifty feet or so in front of the grand doors of the walled city. The entirety of Tironis was fashioned from immense, brown stones. Two stone doors, each twelve feet tall, stood opened outwards. Several Kulshedran guards on horses held long spears at the ready. The lights from the obelisks flickered over bronze skinned soldiers.

  “Who goes there?” a guard asked.

  “Labolas Sulas, Captain of the Legion of Archers, and I bring Brandt of Alduheim to meet with Gilgamesh. Behind us ride Hachi and Maranjo, General Sulas’s men.”

  “Documents?” the guard asked as he rode closer.

  Labolas and Scar halted their mounts. The spies rode up behind before stopping as well. Labolas fiddled with his satchel. He dug out the required documentation, a rolled up parchment. As the guard looked over the paper under the light of yuclid lamps, Scar saw archers patrolling the high walls. It was truly impossible, from that particular point of entry, to raid the city. Furthermore, there was a portcullis before the double doors. It was raised as there was no threat at that time. Seems you can’t sneak in by foot or storm the walls.