The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons (12 page)

“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 heavy 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.”