The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons

by Aaron Dennis

  “Let us make haste,” Scar stated. “We’ll reorganize at the surface and rest there.”

  They nodded in agreement and resumed following the Tiamatish explorers. N’Giwah kept the lead. Moments later, they were moving through the study. At that time, Hija apologized to N’Giwah for doubting his leadership during Scar’s fight with Ylithia. He consoled her by explaining what he had seen and subsequently come to believe from observing the relics within the keep as well as having heard Scar’s story of Silwen.

  “I also believe there is the possibility that Longinus, Sirokai, Gilgamesh, and Jagongo hold some knowledge on the matter,” he added. “Perhaps their combined efforts orchestrated the joining of our groups as a means to bring this light into the world.”

  The Kulshedrans especially appreciated N’Giwah’s positive attitude. Without him, they were sure to fall into depression and believe they had been betrayed, and possibly that their king, too, was betrayed. It was too great an impact to believe their respective leaders were purposefully misleading their people. Gilgamesh was nothing if not fair and loyal.

  They had to believe that the rulers handpicked a few warriors to stumble across the truth and present it. A king suddenly forsaking his God and calling it a Dragon in the face of the masses was certain to find himself dead on his throne for such heresy, but having foolproof evidence for everyone in the world to see was a different matter.

  “When did you start to believe to the story of the Gods?” Pater asked Scar after proceeding through more rooms and corridors towards the exit. “When you saw Silwen?”

  The mercenary kept cadence with them and without breaking stride replied, “I have had burning questions since Labolas Sulas introduced me to the history of the Dragon wars. There were thirteen Dragons, and now there are thirteen Gods; an odd coincidence, no? When I pressed him and Draco siblings for answers, there was nothing anyone could provide to suffice, plus I had already fought Lovenhaad. My meeting with Silwen simply clinched it for me.”

  “Wow, I can only wonder what you have forgotten,” Jayna interrupted. “Somehow, you must have known all along. Even with our knowledge of the proposed eight Gods, none of us have ever considered the Dragons posing as Gods a possibility…we have been raised since time immemorial to believe that Kulshedra is the God of truth, and that other tribes, well, that they are confused.”

  “We are all mystified,” Borta added. “Now is the time to plan carefully.”

  “Agreed,” Pater said as N’Giwah led them back to the roughly hewn cavern just under the surface of Alduheim. “We should all keep silent until Brandt reports back to Gilgamesh. Then we will have a clear idea of what to do.”

  Scar remained quiet on that topic and instead engaged Ylithia in conversation asking after her state. The food and water had helped her immensely and he openly volunteered that he, too, did not require sustenance to his knowledge, but only enjoyed it from time to time.

  “I require food,” she corrected. “But Mekosh had temporarily blessed me in order to accomplish his task. Now that I’ve failed, my blessing is removed. I am human…maybe you are more than you appear to be.”

  “Please,” Scar’s chuckle betrayed a tinge of fright. “What am I if not human?”

  She shrugged, adding, “No matter to me.”

  “I assure you, I am human,” he snorted. “To boot, Silwen has blessed me in such a way that I dare not look at another woman so long as I live,” he added in a joking tone. “I’m certainly all man.”

  Ylithia managed a laugh and squinted her eyes at him. In the torchlight, she was a gorgeous woman of fine features, and her fighting prowess was a boon. Whatever spell the Goddess of Love had cast on the mercenary was ineffable.

  “I am glad you fawn over me, Scar,” she revealed ambivalently. “But I wonder where this life will lead us.”

  “It will lead us where we see fit. Each of us now has all they need to make their own decision, and I have already chosen a path.” Scar glanced at the rest of the crew. Some of them nodded to him. He then added in a whisper. “I hope only that you understand my decision once I reveal it.”

  Ylithia maintained eye contact for a moment. “I wonder if the Gods indeed had a plan in mind all along. Mekosh certainly said he did, and Silwen certainly seems to, but I have failed my part.”

  She smiled at Scar and he returned that smile, saying, “Don’t be so certain.”

  Ylithia frowned and shrugged. “I am at a loss, yet to travel with a group of strangers bent on revealing the Dragons to the world is a valorous quest, for sure. I should, however, advise you all that it will not be easy. Informing the world of the Dragons’ lies is paramount, yes, but this whole mess has me on edge; if the Dragons were defeated here at Alduheim, how are they influencing the masses?”

  Scar and some of the others were awestruck. They had not made that connection and certainly wondered after a similar fashion. Stopping briefly, they considered what little they knew, or whether what they had been taught was even accurate.

  “Silwen says the Dragons are controlling the tribal leaders. Perhaps those Dragon gems are to blame.” Scar’s comment frightened the group. Just a minute before, they were optimistic that maybe their kings new something, but if Silwen suggested they were being controlled, that posed a problem.

  “Dragon gems?” Ylithia asked.

  Scar was about to answer when N’Giwah interrupted. “Hold a moment,” he said while prodding around the ceiling where their way out used to lay.

  “What is it?” Scar asked.

  “The exit, it is blocked,” the Tiamatish explorer replied.

  “What do you mean blocked?” Lortho bellowed.

  N’Giwah motioned to Jayna to come closer. She obliged and held her torch up toward the ceiling. Above them, where the cave’s wall stepped up to the exit, a boulder of considerable size had been rolled to block their way to the surface.

  “Someone has tried to bury us inside,” Shamara announced. “I fear now more than ever that not only did the Khmerans enter from here, but that our kin must be in danger.”

  “If they’re not dead, already,” Lortho shouted.

  “Peace,” N’Giwah said. “I will remove this obstacle.” He placed his hands on the stone and began working his Tiamatish power, saying, “The Dragon may have lied to my people, but I still command its power.”

  N’Giwah closed his eyes and concentrated on the boulder. His magic allowed him to soften the stone little by little. He pushed one crag and pinched a protuberance. Then he pushed and kneaded it like tough clay.

  “Wait a minute,” Hija broke the silence. “Perhaps someone who knows about the memory of Alduheim is preventing us from enlightening the world.”

  “Impossible,” Ylithia rebutted. “I never allowed anyone back there.”

  Hija looked her up and down and spat, “That’s right, girl, you killed our warriors.”

  By the time Shamara attempted to keep the peace, N’Giwah had small portions of the stone molding to his touch. He was busy working the edges away from the cave’s opening, but Scar groaned, weary at the display, and forced his way to the stone ledge. He placed his hand on N’Giwah’s shoulder to draw his attention.

  “Allow me,” he said.

  “What can you do, warrior,” N’Giwah asked sardonically.

  “Just let me try something,” Scar huffed. N’Giwah motioned with a flick of his wrist and winced. Scar let the man step away, and then he struck the stone with both open palms. The impact knocked it clear out of sight. “There,” Scar said and started to crawl out.

  “We have been down here a long time,” N’Giwah said. “It is already dark out. Be careful out there.”

  One-by-one, they all made their exit and took in great gulps of cool, fresh air. The surrounding area appeared ominous at night; immense boulders loomed more jagged and menacingly. The quietude permeating from the surrounding wooded area sent chills up the spines of the group. Jayna eventually made her way out and shined her torch about. There
wasn’t much of a sign of anything in the vicinity, and so the squad of explorers and fighters made their way back to camp, keeping their eyes and ears open for anything.

  “Stay here a moment,” Scar suddenly ordered.

  “Why?” N’Giwah barked before the mercenary had time to explain.

  “Because I want to scout ahead.”

  “Hurry.”

  Scar nodded and quietly traipsed off, taking a roundabout way back to the camp. Outside the shacks, he found his men and N’Giwah’s slain. Drying blood pooled around three headless Khmerans in colored robes. Weapons were laying near the deceased. By the time Scar knelt down to inspect one of the Kulshedran archers, N’Giwah and the rest came up behind him.

  “They’re dead,” Scar murmured. “They’re all dead.”

  “Khmeran bastards!” Lortho shouted and ran to Tarvin’s side. He stumbled about in momentary disbelief before kneeling to cradle his friend. Lortho removed his helmet and gave Tarvin a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see those wretched animals dead for you!”

  “It was not the work of blades killed these men,” Ylithia said while inspecting the corpse of a sword maiden. She removed a wooden dart from the body’s neck, displaying it for all to see. “Khmeran fighters couldn’t have done this, though they may have created a diversion. This is the work of an assassin.”

  “Poland,” Scar heaved and ran about looking for the old man. “Poland?”

  He searched about while the others checked their kind, cursed, swore blood oaths, and kept eyes peeled for the professed assassin. Unable to locate the old man’s corpse, Scar started searching shacks. In the second one, he saw the body of Poland splayed out, face down, on the dirt floor. A dart protruded from the base of his skull.

  As Scar took a knee for closer inspection, a flash drew his attention. Two points of light forced him to look up in time to see something coming at his face, and he swiped at the air catching the dart. The assassin was in the high corner of the shack using his feet to brace himself by the ceiling. The figure lowered a blowgun from his mouth, and Scar bolted backwards out of the shack, shut the door, and howled out to the others.

  “Quickly! Surround the shack! The assassin is in here!”

  The squad fanned out to encircle the wooden building. A malevolent laughter bled through the shack door.

  “The Khmerans have failed in their task, and so have I it appears,” the voice chuckled.

  “Hachi!” Scar blurted out. “You sack of crap! Where’s Labolas? What have you done?”

  “You’ll get no answers from me, ghost.”

  “No? Come out here and talk to me…I think you’ll enjoy a little conversation,” Scar spoke through clenched teeth.

  “No conversation. I’ll come out and accept my death. It is the price for failure in the order anyway,” Hachi said miserably.

  As soon as Scar saw the door start to open, he smashed his fist through the wood and connected with the Bakunawan’s face. The blow knocked him out cold, and Scar dragged him out.

  “Bind him,” he ordered. “I’ll get answers before this maggot dies.”

  Two Kulshedrans quickly assisted. While they used leather straps meant for aid in supporting camping tents or hammocks to secure Hachi, the remaining fighters gathered to witness the unfolding situation. Steely eyes glared holes into the Bakunawan assassin. Scowls of hatred accompanied bared teeth. They wanted blood.

  “Bind his arms behind his back and his wrists to his feet. I want him to look at me while I bleed him,” Scar growled.

  Bosen and Pater, the two who had the Bakunawan, complied and in a moment Hachi was placed face up, dreaming of better times behind closed eyelids. Blood had smeared onto his nose and mouth. Scar quickly removed a canteen from the shack and drizzled the water over the bound man’s face. While the group held out for vengeance, Hachi came to with a sputter. The mercenary motioned to Jayna for her torch. He took it and held it close to Hachi’s face.

  The Bakunawan tried to move away. He quickly realized his predicament. Wracking pain radiated from his broken nose and his eyes went wide for a moment. Then he laughed and spat at Scar. The saliva splattered on the mercenary’s face, but his stoic expression implied his rage was beyond offense. He wiped the spit off with the back of his hand.

  “Going to torture me?” Hachi asked with a grin. “I’m an assassin of The Order of Light. Do you know what that means?”

  “That you’re stupid enough to bleed before inevitably providing answers,” Scar replied without missing a beat. That was sufficient to make Hachi swallow hard with an ill anticipation. “Hija, your knife?”

  The Tiamatish woman obliged with a glower in Hachi’s direction. As she handed Scar the bone blade, the mercenary removed his sword from his back and sank the tip into the ground. Hija gave the assassin a sound kick in the ribs that forced the wind from his lungs. He choked and gasped for a second, but soon recovered and laughed. Scar smiled while lowering himself close to Hachi, the bone knife in his fist.

  First, Scar also planted the torch in the dirt next to Hachi’s head. Having ample light was a preference. Next, he gripped Hachi by the chin and forced the back of his head into the ground. A clear view of twinkling stars under a peaceful night was only the first thing Hachi noticed. Then he saw the bone blade looming above his face.

  “Why did you kill everyone?” Scar whispered.

  “Orders.”

  “From?”

  Hachi did not reply. Scar carefully pushed the tip of the knife into the assassin’s eye. Though grinding his teeth and breathing heavily, Scar’s hand was steady as ever, and the further in the blade dug, the louder Hachi screamed. His eye deflated with an oozing secretion as the bone pushed passed his eyelid. Scar sniffed once and waited.

  “Who wants me dead?”

  Between gurgling breaths, Hachi said, “You can rot in Hell, ghost. Bakunawa has promised me a place in Bathala.”

  “Bakunawa has lied to you,” Scar replied. “It doesn’t matter. We’re only just starting, and by the time you’re ready to see your Dragon Lord, I’ll have all the answers I need.

  “You’re mad.”

  “Yes…in more ways than one.”

  Scar proceeded to roll Hachi onto his stomach. The fighters grumbled words of anger, making claims that unimaginable pain was due, that death was to be repaid in kind; that mercy was for warriors not hired killers. While the Bakunawan inhaled dirt and grass, the mercenary took a breath to steady his nerves and punctured the tip of Hachi’s right index. The man groaned through tight lips, but said nothing. Scar pierced two more fingers before Hachi passed out.

  “This should wake you, friend,” he said, and held the torch to the assassins treadless, black, leather boot.

  Within seconds Hachi’s body was revived with a spasmodic jerking. He howled out in pain and growled like an animal trying uselessly to wriggle out from Scar’s iron grip. The mercenary’s arm tensed holding Hachi in place. He eased the fire away for a moment.

  “You understand I’m not going to kill you. You won’t see Bakunawa until the wolves come to feast on your viscera…and you’ll be very much alive while they eat.”

  As Hachi snorted out puffs of dirt, he wriggled against his binds. Words of praise were spoken about wolves’ propensity for slowly removing intestines before devouring their prey.

  “You might as well tell me everything from the beginning; why you were sent with Labolas…if I like what I hear, I’ll consider ending your misery…otherwise.”

  Scar trailed off, but not before putting the torch against Hachi’s foot again.

  “Graah! All right, all right!” he puffed, and Scar removed the flames a moment. “The answer’s right in front of you. General Sulas ordered me to go along. He wanted everyone dead and the Khmerans blamed.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t ask. I was paid to do a job.”

  Scar looked at his confederates and asked, “What do you make of it?”

  “He’s lying,” Pater growled.
“No Kulshedran would hire a killer like him. He just wants you angry enough to kill him.”

  “Just leave him for the wolves!” Ezlo added.

  “I’ll give him something to think about,” Jayna cried out and kicked Hachi in the head.

  Scar winced and pushed her off while the assassin mumbled something unintelligible.

  “What?” Scar asked.

  “Hit him again,” Lortho shouted.

  “Hold on a moment!” Scar pleaded. He lifted Hachi’s head by his headband, which slipped off causing the Bakunawan to eat another mouthful of dirt. “Speak!”

  “I suh-I said, obviously Sulas and Gilgamesh don’t want whatever’s in there discovered. It was all a trap, and with the Khmerans to blame, Jagongo was likely to finally add her forces to Satrone’s against Sahni. It’s all a game of politics. Don’t you get it? We’re all pawns! Only I know my place!”

  “A sound proposition,” N’Giwah said to Scar. “With the Khmerans blamed for killing all of us, Gilgamesh could certainly unify Malababwe, Balroa, and Closicus. Using them against Usaj and reducing Nabalhi’s support all at once, Gilgamesh would be able to secure the entire lower half of the world.”

  “Now hold on,” Bosen interceded. His two cents provided Hachi a momentary respite. “Our king isn’t after any such thing. Gilgamesh is a good person. We ought not jump to the conclusions of a tortured assassin.”

  “He’s right,” Scar agreed. “His claim also implies that the general ordered the death of his own son.”

  N’Giwah shrugged. His mind remained unalterable.

  “That is their way,” Shamara hissed. “The way of leaders blinded by their own machinations; a false sense of control…Gilgamesh must be terrified by your presence and the secrets of your people.”