The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons (16 page)

“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; finding
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.

“Good. Welcome back, Captain,” the guard
announced and returned the parchment.

As the men quietly rode past the wall, the
Kulshedrans maintained a fierce gaze on all the foreigners. Beyond
the entrance to Tironis was a grid of cobbled, city streets. Even
in the late hours there were many men and women out, children
toddling behind, and a variety of animals of which some were pets.
The bland but traditional clothing of Kulshedrans consisted of
sandy browns, grays of varying degrees, and thick boots to prevent
the hard ground from injuring people’s feet.