by Aaron Dennis
“Did you try to kill me, too?”
Sulas met his son’s gaze. There was no malice or fury reflected in either’s stare.
“No. I told Hachi to use the Dosvetyulian poison. My intention was to scare you away from this dreaded confrontation…we only wanted Scar and the explorers dead.”
“So, you sent Kulshedran soldiers, a Scultonian, and a Fafnirian to die as well, and for what, the Dragon’s gain?” Scar accosted.
Before Sulas was able to answer, the sound of steel boots clamored from behind them. Soldiers were racing up the steps. When the first made it into the foyer, and Scar and Labolas turned to face them, Sulas shouted to cease. Uneasy glances passed. More soldiers halted at the top of the stairs.
“Sir?” one armored man asked.
“Go to the courtyard,” Sulas barked.
“But?”
“To the courtyard!” Sulas demanded.
Scar and Labolas looked back to the general while the others retreated.
“What’s happened, Father? What is going on here?” Labolas demanded in despair.
“What is going on is the will of Kulshedra,” he answered cryptically.
“You bow your head to a Dragon, man,” Scar howled. “Have you no honor?”
“Honor?” Sulas whispered. “I have honor…and loyalty.”
“To a beast?” Labolas interrupted.
“To my people!” Sulas barked. “Don’t you see? If you fight the king, and you win, Satrone will fall to Zoltek, or Sahni, or Sirokai, Hashnora, or whomever else. It will place a strain on Eltanrof, Zetsuru…it is a hopeless war, but you are bent on more than that, no? You want the Dragon…but if Kulshedra dies, we lose our powers.
“Think, man! Thousands of warriors on the battlefields suddenly lose their blessings. The Khmerans, the Zmajans, they will cut us down like cattle. How can we defend our country, our people, our customs then?”
“You should have thought about that before killing Ylithia. We were gone,” Scar attested. “We had nothing more to do with you or your war. All we wanted was to live our own life. Why did you have to kill her?”
“That was not our intention…not my intention,” Sulas said apologetically. “Gilgamesh wanted you dead because you abandoned him…it was retribution.”
“You’re a fool, old man,” Labolas shouted. “He had already sent Scar to his death. It was he who betrayed my dear friend, and he must pay!”
Sulas nodded in agreement. A frown creased his aged face.
“You’re right, Son, but the king worried that Scar would return,” Sulas explained.
“I wouldn’t have, but he left me no choice. He’s secured his own death,” Scar interceded.
“So it would seem,” Sulas heaved. “And he may deserve it, but I can’t let you pass. I can’t let you face him.”
“Why, Father?” Labolas demanded.
With a long inhalation, Sulas replied, “Because it is my duty. I’m an old fool, a warrior. I begged and pleaded with his majesty, but he has been deceived by the Dragon and will no longer listen to reason. I told him of the memory of Alduheim. I pleaded with him to see it for himself. Instead of listening, he threatened my family. That’s why I sent you with Hachi. I needed you to live, Labolas.”
Scar grit his teeth. His fingers tightened around his sword, and his muscles tensed.
“Anything else you need to say?” Scar asked.
“No,” the general said. “I am willing to accept my fate.”
“Good,” Scar nodded. “Labolas, you must go.”
The archer turned to his friend with a distraught look. “No,” he whispered.
“You don’t need to see me kill your father.”
“I’ll do it,” Labolas said.
Scar looked at his friend and a wave of grief enveloped him. He shook his head and tried to say something. Instead, the general agreed.
“That’s right, Son, show them all the might of Sulas,” the aged Kulshedran said with pride.
“I can’t let you do it,” Scar desisted. “You’ll never forgive yourself. It is a burden you don’t need to carry.”
“I have come this far to kill Gilgamesh for destroying our people,” Labolas started.
“You must kill Kulshedra then, but I told you, that will be our undoing. Do you want such liability?” Sulas argued.
“I-I can’t,” Labolas stuttered.
“I do,” Scar snarled. “I’ll slay Kulshedra, Zmaj, Drac, I’ll kill them all!”
“Yes, lad, you must. Kill them all, and we will all be true equals again…that is the only solution,” Sulas stated.
“But how do we kill a Dragon? Where are they?” Labolas pried.
“Fight the king, best him, and take the jewel from Enkidu, his armor. You are the Dragon Slayer, Scar. With that gem you will find your way to Drangue…only you can go…no living man may enter the realm of truth, but you are no living man, are you?” Sulas spouted.
Scar didn’t know what to make of his mumblings. Labolas eyed his father. Before anyone else could make a move, or say anything, General Sulasa took a dagger and slit his own throat.
“Noo!” Labolas shouted and ran over to his father’s side. The aged Kulshedran collapsed against the wall and slid down. “Why, Father, why?”
He tried to stop the bleeding, but it was useless. Crimson spurted from the lethal wound.
With his last breath, the general touched his son’s face and said, “I have been responsible for too much pain…the Dragon, boy, the Dragon….”
Labolas sobbed and buried his head in his father’s chest. Scar approached him and patted his shoulder. He wanted to provide him a moment and figured he’d best handle Gilgamesh alone.
“I’m sorry, friend,” he whispered. “I will do my best to end our grief now.”
He left the Kulshedrans to kick in Gilgamesh’s doors. The wood shattered in an array of splinters. The room beyond the foyer was a large bed chamber. King Gilgamesh had his back turned to Scar, but he turned to glance over his shoulder.
“The old fool has killed himself…a befitting end,” Gilgamesh sneered.
Scar didn’t wait a second more. He stormed over to cut the king down, but a blow of energy shot him clean out of the room. He slammed into the wall of the foyer, forcing him to gasp for air. The mercenary fingered at the handle of his blade, which had slipped his grip on impact. By the time he had it and was back to his feet, Gilgamesh was storming towards him.
The king’s chest plate unleased a series of unfolding plates. They became nearly seamless as they covered him from head to toe. The end result was a man made of steel. The gas lamps glinted off the shining armor giving it a sunny gleam. Only the king’s eyes were visible. On his armor’s forehead, an amber jewel pulsated with a golden light.
“Behold Enkidu, armor of the God, Kulshedra,” the king growled in a metallic drone. “With his divine blessing, I am invulnerable.”
“We will see,” Scar retorted and dashed at him.
Gilgamesh blocked the oncoming blow by slapping at Scar’s wrists. The deflection forced the mercenary to slash at air, so he spun to lop his opponent’s head off, but the king ducked, and stood quickly with a fist into Scar’s midsection. It was only a modest blow. A split second after the blow, a wave of power sent Scar soaring through air again and back into a wall.
“We will fight in the courtyard for all to witness the unrivaled might of Gilgamesh, King of Truth,” Gilgamesh stated and placidly walked down the stairs.
Scar looked to Labolas, who was still holding his father. “Labolas?”
“Go,” the archer replied. “Go and kill him. I need a moment.”
Scar nodded. Then he bolted down the stairs into the throne room where Gilgamesh and his retainers waited. The king made a gesture of invitation. When Scar nodded, they both strutted through the corridor; it was filled with servants aghast. Upon finally spilling into the courtyard under gleaming stars, those who had followed fanned out to behold the might of two warriors.
“Sword and shield,” Gilgamesh bellowed. Soldiers quickly ran up to him and answered his request. The steel man flipped the sword about a couple of times while he felt the weight of it and the round shield. “Now, ghost, come face the man who speaks with God.”
“You’re a fool,” Scar scoffed. “Your God is a Dragon, a filthy beast spewing lies.”
“Prove it,” Gilgamesh rebutted and took a battle stance.
Scar rolled his shoulders and slowly made his approach. He knew the king could knock him about with energy, so once he reached ample distance, he rolled to the ground and hacked at the king’s legs. Gilgamesh rolled over Scar and smashed him across the back with his shield.
“Is this what you offer? They had said you were unbeatable,” the king jeered.
As Gilgamesh mouthed off, Scar spun and delivered a sideways slash towards his opponent’s chest. Gilgamesh blocked with his shield, but the impact was greater than anticipated. The shield nearly slipped his grasp, and he fought to maintain his balance, thus providing Scar an opening. He nabbed the king by his collar and slung him to the ground before rotating his great sword and stabbing downwards. He missed by a hair as the king shrimped away.
Scar chased him about the ground with a flurry of hacks. Each one knocked chunks of pink dirt, stone, and debris around. By that time, Labolas had worked his way out to see the men fighting. He lingered, wondering if interceding with an arrow was the honorable thing to do. After only a short moment, when Gilgamesh worked his way to his feet, and Scar chopped so hard from overhead he cut through the king’s blade, Labolas decided to simply watch.
Gilgamesh was overwhelmed by Scar’s brute strength. He fell back onto his seat, blocked the next blow with his shield then wielded his magical power to send Scar crashing into the stone fountain. The chiseled serpents ruptured from his weight. Water gushed out in spurts, wetting the mercenary.
As Scar gathered his wits, the king called out again, “Long spear!” A soldier ran to him, took his shield, and gave him the new weapon. “Come at me, ghost, befouled one,” Gilgamesh taunted. “I am the greatest warrior this land has ever seen. My people will witness my might, your defeat, and tell the world of the day a fool tried to kill Gilgamesh under the guise of fighting Dragons.”
The king laughed from behind his armored face. The stilted laugh had an eerie metallic edge to it. Scar was unfazed, however, and marched to his opponent with a determined countenance. He cut the spear in half in one stroke by slicing between the king’s hands, delivered a black boot into his gut that sent him reeling then hacked into his shoulder. Gilgamesh cried out in pain. He fell to the ground bleeding and rolled over in time to see the point of the great sword coming for his face. He deftly tilted his head and the sword dug some two feet into the ground.
Gilgamesh sat up quickly to strike Scar under the ribs with an open palm, which was coupled with a blow of energy that knocked Scar clean off his feet. The mercenary had not let go his blade, so when he crashed to the packed ground, and the king howled out for an axe, he instantly darted to the man carrying the new weapon, and cleaved him in half.
“No more games!” Scar grunted.
He smashed his own gauntleted left fist into the king’s face, kicked him in the stomach, and spun to slash his head off. He missed again when Gilgamesh tucked and rolled to the ground, but gave another overhead slashed to end it. Unfortunately, a spherical barrier prevented the blade from contact. Scar growled and hissed as he forced his might into the sword.
All of his muscles tensed. The sword wasn’t able to press through the king’s magic, but he saw Gilgamesh’s eyes; they were the eyes of a desperate man; a man who knew without doubt that his life was in the balance. An interminable moment passed between foes.
“Give it up, Scar,” Gilgamesh taunted. “You cannot hope to prevail over the magic of God.”
“It is Dragon’s magic!” Scar argued. “And you will not live to see the sun rise. You killed my lover. You betrayed me and tried to kill me. You’ve been told of the Dragons and the memories of Alduheim, yet you lie to your people, to yourself. What manner of God allows only one man to reach him? Think, you fool.”
Both men grunted, heaved, and puffed. Scar held fast pushing his blade into the king’s barrier. Gilgamesh tensed muscles beneath his armor trying to hold that magical protection in place, but his strength waned, the friction of steel and magic erupted in errant sparks of blue light that quickly died out.
“Kulshedra,” Gilgamesh pleaded. “Kulshedra, help your king!”
“The Dragons have no love for men,” Scar spouted.
The king’s magic faded. Scar’s sword came down with such might it severed the king’s torso; his left shoulder and arm fell away from him as blood poured over the courtyard. Scar quickly noted the gem on the king’s armor. He wasted no time in pinning his blade through the king’s chest, taking a knife from his waist to pry the gem from the helmet, and before the Kulshedrans of Tironis were to come to grips with the death of their king, Scar forced the diamond shaped jewel into the first hole in his blade near the guard. Vertigo immediately overtook him, and he collapsed.
“He’s vanished,” someone gasped.
Scar opened his eyes. He was not at Inneshkigal and certainly in no courtyard. He scurried about to examine his surroundings. It was varying degrees of blackness; a familiar setting. In the blackness was a gossamer wispy mist of white. It swirled by from every which way like curling smoke. Wide eyed, and confused, Scar tried to gain his bearings, but this was not an ordinary realm. There was no up, down, or anything to stand on. A red glow drew his attention, but before catching it fully, something like misty scales washed it out of sight. A thunderous sound accosted his ears, it was akin to an elongated, guttural warble. The cacophony left a thought in Scar’s head.
The Dragon had said, “You cannot be here! No man can be here!”
“I am here, Dragon! Show yourself!”
Another thunderous blast of melodious growls replied, “What are you?”
“The vengeance of a defiled soul. You have my Ylithia, and I will see you dead.”
A third roar of sheer horror and anger rocked the mercenary, but his attention was focused on an amber glow. The gem in his blade pulsated brighter and brighter. He held the blade over his head and such brilliance erupted that it vanquished the darkness. The horrid surroundings turned into a radiance; degrees of light like the sun shone from every direction revealing a great, misty whorl. Looking upon it, Scar saw two blood red orbs staring into him. The mist coalesced into the form of a dragon with no physical substance.
While Scar stared at the great beast, a power outside his control forced him to spin the sword, take a valiant leap, and with his left hand extended, fingers spread, he pulled back his left arm and thrust the blade with all his strength into the Dragon’s sternum. Mist erupted from the wound like ripples of water over a placid lake. When Scar landed, he spun and sliced through more misty scales, causing the mysterious beast to fall forward. As it arched its lizardine head away, the Dragon Slayer slashed out Kulshedra’s throat.
A vicious staccato sound erupted from the dying creature as it said, “Life and death are the only truths, but you have neither…what are you?”
Scar had no answer and no time to think. The mist exploded around him then snaked into the Dragon gem. With the mist billowing about him and into the sword, the golden light also diminished until there was only a great sense of pressure. Drangue was coming apart without the soul of Kulshedra to sustain it, and the aftermath was ripping Scar to shreds.
Vertigo overtook him once more. He passed out for a second. There was no more pressure, only a sense of emptied lungs. He opened his eyes wide and took such a gasp of air that he inhaled dirt
from the courtyard.
Quickly forcing himself to his feet and coughing, he looked upon the Kulshedrans around him. They gawked at him in return. Then they looked at each other, or their hands, their arms; they all scrutinized one another with such curiosity. The power of Kulshedra left them. Their bronze tone visibly lightened to a tanned skin. Everyone was absolutely in the throes of despair.
When they could handle it no more, they dropped to their knees. It was then that Labolas stumbled over to Scar. The mercenary looked at his friend.
“I, I did it,” he said.
“I know,” the archer replied, and raised his left wrist to gaze upon his bracer. He focused the power of Kulshedra, but nothing happened. There was only a void there. “Can you imagine what’s happening in Alduheim or on the Usajan border?”
Scar frowned and shook his head, saying, “I’m sorry, Labolas. It had to be done.”
“Certainly,” he whispered. “But what will my people do now?”
“They will fight for their families and help to spread the word that Dragons have posed as Gods,” Scar claimed loudly enough to draw the Kulshedrans’ attention.
Labolas nodded and added, “We should move.” Scar agreed and made to follow his friend, but faltered and grasped the archer’s shoulder. “What is it?” Labolas asked.
“I, I remember everything,” Scar gasped. “My, my name, who I am, what I’m doing….”
“What? What do you recall?”
Scar stared into his friend’s eyes and said, “I am Sarkany, the Dragon Slayer.”
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