The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons

by Aaron Dennis

  “It’s plated so you can parry blows as though you wore a buckler,” the tanner whispered. “I had told her it was foolish…little did I know you would be out for blood.”

  Scar moved and stretched. It was a fantastic fit, but the crowning touch was the black, leather galea; a helmet that slid over his head heavily protecting his forehead, ears, and the back of his neck. In place of a standard horsehair crest was the antlers of a great hart. The tanner took a step back and a breath to witness the masterpiece.

  “You should have a look,” he said, and walked Scar over to a full length mirror. “That is how Ylithia saw you every time she looked your way.”

  He was the very definition of intimidating. Scar prodded at his cuirass.

  “Rothbert, I…thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, it was Ylithia’s doing in her own spare time.”

  He nodded before asking, “Can you make an addition?”

  “Of course,” the tanner said with a slight bow of the head.

  “Will you attach this chest piece?” Scar said, and walked over to his old armor.

  “It will take me a moment, but yes. Leave the cuirass here and come back in an hour or so.”

  Scar agreed. It was enough time to see Jordana and ask for forgiveness. Night had settled onto Othnatus, and he marched over the snowy streets to the house across the lake. He knocked on the door, but no one replied.

  “They’re probably off to Ylithia’s grave,” Labolas whispered.

  “Mm,” Scar grunted. “I’ll have to see if anyone’s at Curval’s. Then we can be off.”

  “Sure,” Labolas agreed.

  At the pub, Scar found Christina and Bridgette trying to have food and drink ready for the others’ return.

  “Will you stay tonight?” Bridgette asked.

  “No, I just wanted to ask everyone’s forgiveness.”

  “My dear, for what?” Christina asked.

  “For bringing a gruesome event to wonderful homes. I won’t hear of anyone telling me it isn’t my fault…so please, I just want you all to tell everyone I’m sorry, and that you won’t be seeing me again.”

  The women consented, forced him to take food and drink along for where ever he was heading, and said their final goodbyes. Outside the pub, as fresh snow softly fell, Scar made back towards Rothbert’s. It hadn’t been quite as long a wait as anticipated, but the tanner received him warmly and strapped the armor to his chest. He had replaced the old brown straps with new black ones and added a new buckle to hold his sword in place. Scar slid it over his back and rolled his shoulders.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it, Scar. Goodbye, and may Slibinas aid in delivering the wicked to a frozen Hell.”

  Then Labolas and Scar marched to the stables, mounted shaggy horses, and rode out of Othnatus.

  Chapter Twenty-Two- The long haul

  The Captain of the Legion of Archers argued with Scar that a direct ride west from Othnatus and out of Closicus was not the best course of action. Kulshedrans were currently as hated as Zmajans because Gilgamesh had tried to flush out the remnants of explorers by sending scouts into Malababwe, Closicus, and Balroa. Furthermore, when none of Gilgamesh’s men returned, he claimed that those countries’ leaders were spitting in the face of peace and called them traitors.

  “He has gone mad,” Scar commented.

  “He blames you, of course.”

  Labolas then outlined the supposed plan Gilgamesh had had in mind. All of Scar’s and N’Giwah’s parties were to have been slain seemingly by Khmerans. That act of shifting blame was supposed to unite Balroa, Eltanrof, Sudai, Closicus, Malababwe, and Qing-Sho. On top of that, there were never any Zmajan infiltrators as General Sulas had proposed. Instead, the idea that Zmajans were prowling around all of the countries surrounding Alduheim was meant to refocus the warfront to the south.

  “With the Gyosh and Dracos setting aside their differences long enough to wipe out Usaj, Gilgamesh had planned to reparcel the southern peninsula figuring that if Donovan took on a portion of Usaj, he’d stop fighting Munir in the north. Brokering peace between those two, he’d have the entire southeast ready to mount an attack on Sahni, but since none of that has happened, I have to try to keep my head on my shoulders…and so do you,” Labolas claimed.

  Scar agreed, but was upset over wasted time. He wanted to mount a mad dash straight for Tironis. That’s when Labolas proposed they ride southeast to the port town of Ithlica, purchase passage on a vessel, and skirt the eastern shores around Sudai into Eltanrof.

  “Are the Dracos still allies?” Scar pried during their ride through the Closic countryside.

  “Yes, fortunately,” Labolas answered. “Donovan is an angry, young man, and so long as he has enemies to slay, he is content in supporting Gilgamesh. Besides, he is already at odds with Munir and Zoltek. Jagongo and Longinus bear him no ill will. If Donovan went to war with Gilgamesh, he’d have to contend on three fronts and with no allies; he’s a rabid dog to be sure, but he’s not quite as crazed as Zoltek.”

  “How long will it take to reach Eltanrof by sea?”

  “If there’s no bad weather it should be about five days.”

  “Damn…that’s a long time for my blood to boil,” Scar grumbled.

  “I know how you must feel.”

  “No you don’t,” the mercenary cut him short. “No, you don’t, but I appreciate a good strategy…besides, a ride directly through Closicus and into Satrone would twice as long, and that’s without opposition.”

  “Which we’d have,” Labolas interrupted.

  “And then all the opposition in Satrone on top of that,” Scar added.

  “Right, this way we have five days of dreary sailing. Then we’ll anchor in Aldurstun. It’ll be a quick ride from there to River Rock. I’ve an old friend there who should be able to get us all the way into Tironis without much effort.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see….”

  Half a day was spent riding through meadows, over hills, and leaving tracks in the snow. When they reached the port town of Ithlica by first light, they paid little attention to the townsfolk’s on goings and made a straight march for the docks. After questioning a few workers, who were reticent to speak before a seven-foot giant in menacing armor, they learned that no vessels were sailing for Eltanrof, but that one man calling himself Captain Valiant might be persuaded for the right amount of coin. Scar and Labolas learned that he spent most of his time at a local watering hole called The Fisherman’s Bharf.

  “Oh…like wharf,” Labolas joked when they saw the sign.

  Scar arched a brow and winced. He was not in a joking mood. At the Bharf, they questioned one person regarding the Fafnirian captain and were pointed to a withered, old fart in perhaps his late eighties. The coot wore a blue coat, and a white captain’s hat that pushed cotton hair down over his droopy ears. Valiant gulped down cheap liquor and denied them passage when they asked.

  “The others said you’d go for the coin,” Scar argued.

  The bronze toned man adjusted his hat over the scraggly hair and maintained that no coin was worth a trip that long. “I gots ta’ get back here, too, don’ I?” he said in a shrill, faltering voice.

  “Fine, so we’ll pay for two trips,” Labolas pressed him.

  “Nope,” Valiant said and drank more liquor.

  Scar removed his helmet and placed in on the counter next to Valiant. He took the man by the shoulder and turned him forcefully.

  “Look at me,” Scar said.

  Valiant was too drunk to be scared and said, “I’m seein’ ya’.”

  “Some men killed my beloved, and I have to get to Eltanrof. Please, if you won’t take us, help us find someone who will.”

  Scar let go the disheveled captain and slid his galea back on. The old man wet his lips, and then dried his bushy beard with the back of his hand. He huffed once, looked at his empty glass, and looked back at Scar.

  “Ya’ gonna kill ‘em in Aldur
stun?” he asked.

  “They’re not there…they’re in Tironis, but we can’t go straight there on account of the fact that my friend is Kulshedran,” Scar replied.

  Labolas nodded, but didn’t draw back his cowl. Valiant winced and looked them both over. What scant few people were also in the bar hadn’t overheard that Labolas was Kulshedran. The archer looked about nervously anyway.

  “I had a wife, once,” Valiant mumbled. “Died at sea, she did…miss that ole’ bony face every day, I do…all right, young man. Fifty coins ta’ Aldurstun, an’ Fifty ta’ get me back home.”

  At the end of his rumination, Valiant held out his hand. Scar looked at Labolas, and he fumbled around with his belongings.

  “I’ll give you fifty now, old man, but you aren’t getting the other fifty until we get there in one piece,” the Kulshedran asserted before handing him the money.

  “Fine by me,” Valiant agreed.

  They left the Bharf immediately and followed the scruffy captain as he stumbled all over the docks to a less than immaculate sloop. Valiant staggered into his vessel. Reaching over the sides, he started undoing the ties from the cleats.

  “Oh, no,” Labolas recoiled. “You can’t be serious. You’re taking us around three countries for five days in that thing?”

  “Hey now,” Valiant snapped. “The Mighty Shanowa is a fine vessel…I mean, sure, she ain’t quite…eh, what do ya’ call it?”

  “Seaworthy?” Labolas sniped back.

  “Flamboyant,” Valiant corrected.

  “I think you mean she isn’t quite buoyant,” Labolas argued.

  Scar grumbled at them to stow it and hopped onto the sloop.

  “See, your friend’s got the right notion,” Valiant chuckled. “’Sides, we’re jus’ goin’ to skirt the shores. We ain’t takin’ the deep sea. Now, get in and nab one o’ them paddles.”

  Labolas begrudgingly boarded, so they painstakingly took to the waters. Almost immediately, the old man started rambling about rigging, types of boats, kinds of fish, bait; if it had anything to do with the sea, he yammered about it. When he wasn’t talking, he was drinking, and when he was talking and drinking, Labolas was arguing with him.

  Most of the first day was a great deal of paddling. Then Valiant instructed Labolas on how to take the sail; Valiant wanted to sleep off his liquor.

  “I know how to sail, you old fool,” he snapped.

  “Then how come you’re only catchin’ half the wind, heh?”

  The archer acquiesced, and by the time the sun set, and Valiant dozed, they were off at a full twelve knots, keeping the coast to their starboard.

  “You’ve been quiet,” Labolas mentioned while the salty wind whipped his hair about.

  “Not in a talkative mood, I suppose…I miss my sweet Ylithia.”

  Labolas gave him a polite moment of silence then said, “Those kinds of contemplations won’t do you any good, friend.”

  “What am I supposed to think about?”

  “I was thinking about your sword,” Labolas said without missing a beat.

  “It’s going to cut the head off Gilgamesh’s body.”

  “No doubt, but I mean the holes. They’re diamond shaped like that man’s lance…the one who killed that fire Dragon.”

  “Drac, that man slayed Drac.”

  “Yes…anyway, I’m wondering why you have a sword designed to hold those gems. You must be here to kill the Dragons…it’s the only explanation,” Labolas wondered aloud. Scar gazed over the sea. The stars were specks glittering in a vast expanse of blackness. “Scar?”

  “What?”

  “I said, if only you could remember who you are…if you had known from the beginning,” Labolas sighed. “You must have known something after all. You always knew about the Gods and Dragons, even if you can’t remember.”

  “Does me no good now, does it,” he barked.

  “You’re angry and hurt. I get that; my king and my father sent me out to die…not quite the same, I know, but I understand your plight. Still, there’s no need to wander down a dark path…I told you, I’m your friend…no matter what.”

  “And?”

  “You should talk about her…when you’re ready.”

  The sound of the sloop splashing and waves smacking the sides drowned out everything else. Scar inhaled the salty air, laid back comfortably, and thanked Labolas for his friendship.

  ****

  “Sarkany…you have returned.”

  Scar didn’t care that he was back. He didn’t care that at that time he remembered everything that had transpired during the other meetings with Eternus, because he also remembered his inability to recollect while in the world of daily affairs. Opting for silence, the mercenary sat down on the plateau, and gazed into the expanse of darkness, but there were no twinkling stars there, just vorteces of blackness.

  “Your loss is a tragedy,” the booming voice stated. “But such is the way of the world.”

  “What a terrible platitude.”

  “Peace, Dragon Slayer. Now you are ready to face your destiny. You will claim the gem of truth from Gilgamesh.”

  “The king has it?” Scar interrupted.

  “All of them have their respective gems.”

  “Will I remember?”

  “Irrelevant. You will see it when you fight Gilgamesh, and you will know what to do. Place it in the blade, and that alone will transport you to Drangue, the realm of truth. There you will slay the beast, and his soul will enter your blade. Once you have them all, you will come back to me in your totality.”

  “And the Gods? How can I kill them?”

  “That would be a catastrophe. Without their guiding principles, men well cease to exist.”

  “Why should I care?”

  “You may have lost your love, but you still have friends, and they, too, have loved ones. Please, Sarkany, do as you’re told…had you done so from the beginning, your tragedies might have been averted.”

  “You’re a fool, Dragon,” he shouted. “How could I have done such with no memories? You created a flaw, but that flaw has its own life. I will do as I please.”

  “So you say, but everything that has transpired inadvertently placed you right where I wanted you.”

  “Bah,” Scar spat.

  He felt the sting of tears, but none fell from his eyes. In Eternus’s realm, he was unable to cry.

  “Though you still find it difficult, try to trust me. You may not like what you are, what we are, but once you slay Kulshedra, everything will become clear.”

  “I only want to try to find Ylithia’s soul.”

  “It is gone, spent by the Dragon to strengthen his worshipers. Go now, Dragon Slayer, fulfill my desires.”

  ****

  Scar awoke to Labolas arguing with the old coot. The sun had not yet risen, and Valiant wanted more sleep.

  “Pilot your own damned ship,” Labolas snarled.

  “Stupid, boy,” Valiant mumbled.

  “I’m almost forty!”

  “Would you two stow it? Both of you get some rest. I’ll handle the sail,” Scar affirmed. He stomped over to take the tiller. “What do I do?”

  “Jus’ hold her steady an’ let the wind take her as she goes. Keep the shoreline in your sights, an’ you’re good as gold,” Valiant instructed.

  He watched Scar for a moment to be certain he understood. Once satisfied, he went to the aft and peed into the sea. Then he went back to sleep.

  “He’s a delight,” Labolas sneered.

  Scar shook his head. The trip had turned out to be much more annoying than anticipated. All he really wanted to do was kill Gilgamesh, but instead he was left to stew.

  “You seem to be enjoying these stupid games with the old man,” Scar commented.

  “Enjoy-enjoying?” Labolas exclaimed. “It’s all I can do not to feather him.”

  “You could, you know?”

  “What, kill him and take the ship?” Labolas asked, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ve conside
red it….” The archer scrutinized the old man. Then he looked at Scar wondering if the mercenary had been kidding. “Not like you to want to kill someone for no reason.” Scar shrugged. “Dream again?”

  “Yes, but I can never remember them. I just wake with the feeling I’m supposed to do something.”

  “Kill Dragons?”

  “Kill Dragons,” Scar agreed.

  Labolas laid down to make himself as comfortable as possible. He watched wispy clouds roll in overhead. Morning was soon to come, and although he was tired, his mind was restless.

  “I wonder what will happen if we do kill Kulshedra,” he said.

  Scar wondered likewise, but his thoughts meandered. For a time, there was nothing to think about. He closed his eyes trying to remember Ylithia’s warm body, her flowing hair, her sweet, caring personality. An odd thought then struck the mercenary, a thought that seemed out of place.

  “You once told me your father knows everything about everyone.”

  “Yes,” Labolas agreed as he rolled onto his side, kicked the excess rigging away from his feet then tossed onto his other side and grumbled.

  “What if your father knew about Hachi’s poison,” Scar said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if he knew Hachi couldn’t kill you, if he intended for you to get away?”

  Labolas jumped up to a sitting position. “He’s the one who started me taking small doses of poisons when I was young. My God, you could be right.” The archer’s eyes darted about as he tried to piece the puzzle together. “He might have known all along that Hachi wasn’t working for him. That would mean he either wanted me to flee, or even return to Alduheim to find the truth…he may have never trusted Gilgamesh.”