The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons

by Aaron Dennis

  “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.

  Numerous buildings of all sizes loomed over the streets. Scar gazed down dark alleys shadowed by tall lamps. There were guards on foot and horses everywhere. Invading such a city was obviously suicide. One notable difference between the capitol and other Kulshedran cities was that the guards in Tironis wore steel breastplates instead of the studded leathers worn by the soldiers in the field. I guess soldiers are expendable. Is that how a king runs his military?

  Scar grew more and more anxious about the fact that everyone thought he was supposed to become King of Alduheim. He did not have the slightest clue as to how to behave or what kind of decisions had to be made. He looked up into the starry sky and sighed.

  They continued riding in silence beyond loud taverns with light bursting through the windows, past men and woman heading home or perhaps to work late shifts. There were stores, too, with wooden signs indicating their type of business; seamstresses, smiths, general grocers, butchers, barbers, bakers, and so on.

  “This is the Commerce District,” Labolas said unexpectedly.

  “Where are we going? Scar asked. “I mean obviously the palace, but where is it?”

  “Inneshkigal, the impregnable palace is in the King’s District. The palace is quite large and houses all of the noble gentry. Everyone who has anything to do with the country’s resources, politics, or governing decisions lives in the palace. We’ll pass through the Military District on the way,” Labolas explained.

  It took minutes of trotting over streets and taking corners between large buildings before reaching the Military District, which was mostly immense bunkers used to house the city guards or soldiers. There were also offices not unlike Eresh; long buildings with many numbered doors. Fewer men and women meandered through that area, but there were plenty of soldiers. Most of them wore studded leathers and carried short swords, but there were still mounted guards in breastplates.

  “Not a lot of other tribesmen, here,” the mercenary commented.

  “No,” the archer agreed. “You’ll find them in other districts. The city is full of them.”

  By then, the palace was in view. It was an ornate sight to behold. Inneshkigal was also walled in, and though the inner walls were shorter than Tironis’s exterior, they were sanded down to a smoother finish and with slanted tops. Only the slightest of seams were visible in the grand stonework. Before the main entrance were more mounted guards, gas lamps in obelisks, and twin statues of a great serpent wrapping up a lion reared onto its hind legs.

  “Documents,” a guard asked.

  “Right here,” Labolas replied anticipating the request.

  The captain’s men all came to a halt as the guard looked over the parchment.

  He handed it back to Labolas and asked, “Business?”

  “We seek council with Gilgamesh.”

  “Right. Move into the courtyard, and the servants will handle your mounts.”

  “Thank you,” the archer smiled.

  Beyond the walls of Inneshkigal was a vast, round expanse of hard packed, pinkish soil. Servants in drab clothing immediately approached and took the reins of the mounts. One of the young Kulshedran assistants gawked at Scar.

  “What?” he barked jokingly.

  “Nothing,” the boy quickly said then mumbled, “this poor horse.”

  Scar chuckled as he dismounted. Once off the beast, he noticed Hachi and Maranjo had stayed on their horses by the entrance.

  “They are not coming?”

  “No need. I won’t be long, and then we have to ride out,” Labolas fussed.

  “No time for a break?”

  “Not for poor Labolas,” the archer sighed.

  He led Scar past the servants and down a cobbled street that rounded a gray fountain sculpted in the form of four serpents facing the cardinal directions. Surrounding the water spewing serpents was a white circle of stones and around the stones were many colorful flowers. They did not look like any of the flora Scar had seen so far. On the outskirts of the round expanse were arched entryways illuminated by gas lamps, but Scar was unable to see where those entrances led.

  Some dogs barked from inside the homes. Scar dusted his hands on his singed trousers and followed Labolas, who moved to the large, arched entry at the far end of the courtyard opposite the primary entrance. More guards lined the doorway; they wore studded leathers, yellow skirts, and carried spears. After a quick sideways glance at Scar, they returned their eyes forward.

  Inside the palace was a foyer, another semi open area wherein servants walked around either cleaning the statues, paintings, and tapestries, or neatly rearranging flowers, decorative jars, and vases on small wooden tables. Gas lamps in sconces built into the interior walls cast a bright, yellow glow. It complemented the sandy finish of the stonework. Everything had a golden sheen to it.

  “This is it then?” Scar was awestricken by the Kulshedran architecture.

  “This is it.” Labolas smiled cordially and placed his hand on his friend’s wrist. He gave him a full but cursory glance. “Now, you’re going to march in there and meet with our land’s greatest warrior. Ask him whatever you please, but be respectful; a king is always polite and calm. You are a king, my friend. Go, now. Show Gilgamesh the man I am glad to call my friend.”

  Labolas turned around and walked right out of the foyer into the chilly evening to meet with his father’s men, thus leaving Scar to observe the palace guards who returned scrutiny. After a moment, a woman emerged from the hall, which ran parallel to the foyer at the far end where a blue rug covered the stone floor. She wore a long, gray dress that danced about her feet. Her bronze tone and round features were amplified by her black, curly hair, which hung loosely about her shoulders.

  “You are Brandt of Alduheim,” she said softly.

  “I am, and you are?”

  “I am called Ehrloime, and it will be my pleasure to escort you to our Lord’s chambers.”

  “Thank you, Lady Ehrloime,” Scar said with a modest nod.

  The young woman smiled and batted her long lashes. Her peaceful green eyes were jovial, and Scar could not help but smile.

  As they started to walk Scar apologized for his appearance, saying, “I have traveled long and far to meet with King Gilgamesh and the road has been a weary one.”

  “I’m sure,” she commented while they traipsed through corridors.

  The walls were covered in paintings. Between many of them were gas lamps keeping the whole of the palace illuminated. Turning a corner, they passed down another corridor laden with statues. Some servants walked around them. They also wore gray dresses or pants with tunics laced about the neck. Everyone appeared jovial and polite. None of them gave Scar more than a respectful glance.

  “I am surprised your Lord Gilgamesh is willing to meet with me at such a late hour,” Scar said observing their calm demeanor.

  “It is no trouble, I assure you. He has waited patiently for quite some time now,” Ehrloime replied.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you do for the king?”

  “I am one of a few servants trusted enough to escort my Lord’s guests. I also relay the needs of others in the palace. Everything goes through me,” she chirped.

  Scar mused over how completely different were the operations of Usaj. They were all a very militant people. No beautiful women held such esteemed positions. Any arrangement with Zoltek had to be routed through one of his personal warriors. During his rumination, they reached an airy chamber wit
h a blue strip of carpeting, which ran from the front entrance to the throne. It was a stone chair with blue cushions. The tall back was carved to resemble a looming serpent with open maw.

  Behind the throne stood two, large guards wearing steel breastplates over gray clothing. They carried tower shields, but did not appear to hold any weapons. They were stern individuals with perpetual scowls. While Scar looked them over, a figure descended stairs from the left side of the room.

  Once the man cleared the arched stairway and approached the throne, it was evident that he was Gilgamesh. The King of Satrone was not a large Kulshedran. He was dark, almost copperish, wore steel boots, a short golden robe that did not hide a breastplate very well, bracers on both wrists, and he had a thick, black mustache that ran down around his lips and to both sides of his chin. It framed his frown in a manner that accentuated his sloped brow creating the very image of a wise, sullen warrior.

  “This is the one?” Gilgamesh asked as he approached.

  His voice was deep and heavy and though the skin of his neck and hands belied his age, his face was smooth and peaceful. Dark eyes gazed from beneath black eyebrows. Gilgamesh’s hair was thick, black, curly, and pulled back high in a topknot.

  “Yes, my Lord. This is Brandt of Alduheim,” Ehrloime stated.

  “You may go,” he replied.

  The lady of the palace bowed her head and exited the room, leaving Scar with the king and his guards. The flames of gas lights burned quietly. A soft breeze circulated within the throne room.

  “It is quite an honor to meet you, King Gilgamesh,” Scar said with a subtle smile.

  “Please, such formalities are bothersome. You will call me Gilgamesh, and I will call you Brandt.”

  Scar remained politely quiet for a moment then added, “If that is your wish. Labolas has told me much of the world, of Kulshedra, Satrone, and your leadership. He has become my friend.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Gilgamesh said and sat on his throne. He extended his legs and relaxed his regal bearing before leaning his elbow on the armrest. He then rested his cheek against his closed fist. Prior to any elucidation, Gilgamesh made a movement with his other hand to the men behind him. They walked hurriedly out of sight and returned with a wooden chair for the guest.

  “Thank you,” Scar said and sat down when they placed it behind him.

  “We are not a boorish people like the Zmajans. No doubt Zoltek had you bowing before him wanting you to lick his boots.”

  As Gilgamesh spoke, the men returned to their posts. Scar tried to relax in the chair, but it was a bit small for his stature, and the wood creaked.

  “Your cultures are very different,” Scar agreed.

  “Zoltek does not seek peace…I do not believe that Sahni seeks peace either. Do you seek peace, Brandt?”

  “I do, yes. Through Labolas’s eyes I have seen a world that begs for it, and if I truly am instrumental to this effect, I will gladly offer my services, but as you no doubt know, all I want is to know who I am, from where I came, and what is expected of me as King of Alduheim. I am but a bladesman…I, I do not know what I can do as King.”

  “I am glad to hear you speak so sincerely,” Gilgamesh replied. He then grew extraordinarily quiet. The king even half closed his eyes. His lower lip drooped a little. Scar thought he was falling asleep in the middle of conversation when the man suddenly perked up and spoke. “These are dire times. We are all so drained by this war. The citizens are tired. The farmers are tired. The soldiers are tired, and I am tired, but our enemies are not. They are relentless.

  “Unfortunately, there is still much to be done…so much to be done, in fact, it feels as though the work will never end. I’m certain you hoped to come before me and receive answers to all your questions. If only it were so simple, Brandt.

  “I must apologize to you. Though I have spoken to Kulshedra on your behalf, he has informed me that you are unknown to him…a strange anomaly, yet I believe he accepts your service. He has a plan, you see, and together we will build you a future. Pray, let your past, whatever it may have been, fall to the wayside.”

  Scar winced, obviously annoyed, and without saying as much, spoke frankly to the king, “Labolas had insinuated that I was, or my family had been, part of an old kingdom with whom your own family was acquainted.”

  “Yes. Our rich family history has been documented and passed on from ruler to heir for generations. My father told me of how Alduheim and what is now Satrone joined forces to defeat the Dragons. It was our unwavering faith to Kulshedra that served to that end, but the predecessors of Sahni betrayed Kulshedra, slayed the rightful heir to the throne of Alduheim, and took the castle for themselves.

  “All of our people fought, but against the might of Khmer and her allies, we were driven out of Alduheim. Inneshkigal was erected in the name of King Innesh and Tironis was built in honor of his first born son who fell to Khmeran forces, and all of Satrone was built around Tironis. We are a proud and loyal people, Brandt.”

  “What does this mean for me?” Scar asked in disbelief.

  “It means that now is the time to take back Alduheim.”

  “Then we are to defeat Khmeran forces?”

  “That will be instrumental in delivering peace, but we must also defeat Zoltek.”

  “Taking back Alduheim will help to that effect as well?”

  “My information states such unequivocally.”

  “Can you explain it to me? I am afraid I do not understand.”

  “Think of it this way,” Gilgamesh began with great patience. “Taking back Alduheim and restoring it to a true kingdom will brandish the might of Kulshedra. It will foster new alliances, and with no more of my forces fighting endlessly to enter that old kingdom, we can devote more power to the south. Furthermore, there is a great deal of hidden knowledge in that ancient, buried castle. That is why Jagongo has sent explorers to the area. It is why Sahni has been trying to hold it. It is why Zoltek has sent his covert forces.”

  “I don’t understand why Sahni hasn’t wielded that knowledge against you if it is there,” Scar interrupted.

  Gilgamesh allowed his eyes to relax again. He was in a very strange state of immobility, which made Scar uncomfortable. It was almost like the man was completely drunk for just a moment. Then the king opened his eyes wide and spoke again before relaxing his appearance.

  “All I know in that respect for certain is that no one has been able to find the hidden knowledge since the keep has been buried, and that has been a long time…since before my father’s rule, but now you are here, and I believe you are indispensable in acquiring that knowledge.”

  “How? You said Kulshedra does not even know me.”

  “Truth, but I know that you did come from somewhere, from a people whom I had been taught were all persecuted and killed by Khmerans and with that strange sword. I am told there are places that no one can enter in that buried castle. I am also convinced that you will find a way…. N’Giwah believes he will find a way, but I am certain he will not. In one form or another, Labolas will see to that. This brings us to what exactly I expect of you, but first I want you to understand that it will be your choice. I pray only that you will do what is right for everyone.”

  “What do you mean?” Scar asked while crossing his left shin over his right knee and leaning forward.

  “You will march due north with a squadron of my men. You will fight your way inside Alduheim, defeating every Khmeran you see, and you will find the hidden knowledge. With it, we will raise Alduheim to its proper place in the world, and I am certain that in doing so everything else will fall into place.”

  “But what is this knowledge? How will I find it, or even know I have found it, and won’t there be many out there who either wish to see Alduheim remain a shambles, or worse, fight with all their strength to usurp it again?” Scar asked raising his voice with passion.

  Gilgamesh slowly nodded, saying, “Truthfully, all of what you have conceived is possible, but that is the wa
y of the world. If there are no good men willing to fight for what is just, then we are all already doomed. For the moment, we must play the hand we are dealt. I ask that you carry this mission out for me, and in turn you will have Satrone at your disposal in order to raise Alduheim. After that, I can only hope that our allegiance will start to etch away at the foundations of war. Brick by brick, we will lay a foundation of peace.

  “So far as what that knowledge is, or how you can ascertain you’ve found it, I can say only that you will know when the time is right. Kulshedra has not revealed much on that matter, I am afraid.”

  Scar relaxed back in his chair and pondered the proposition of the man before him. Gilgamesh was certainly determined to see peace, but Scar felt uneasy. There were so many questions playing through his mind: Does he not see that Khmer and Kulshedra must be Dragons? Their might is equal. Does he not fear this hidden knowledge? Why was it hidden? Does it truly exist? What will he do with it? He certainly did not mention giving it to me…no. I believe his wish is to wield Alduheim for his own purposes, and what about my sword? Why did he mention it…what should I do?

  “You ponder, Brandt,” Gilgamesh spoke suddenly.

  “Yes,” Scar replied. “Of course I do.”

  “That is good. Rash decisions pave the road to failure. I will do my utmost to put you at ease. First, I will return your blade as a gesture of good will,” Gilgamesh said and snapped his fingers. Again the guards ran off then quickly returned with something large wrapped in white cloth. They revealed Scar’s sword and handed it to him. As he looked over it, Gilgamesh spoke again. “You may lead my men as you see fit. They are to respect you as King. Among them are scholars, so you must do your best to keep them alive. They will help you find the hidden knowledge, and if you can recover it, you have my resources to rebuild your kingdom. There is little else with which I can provide you.”

  “Why a small force? Why not a large one?”

  “I must hold my borders lest someone like the Ghost of Zmaj decimate them,” Gilgamesh smiled shrewdly. “Furthermore, there are many other soldiers already fighting in Alduheim. Rest assured, with your prowess and my men, entering the keep will not be difficult.”