BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan

by J. Eric Booker

  “Yes, sir,” Darius replied with a smile and a salute. He immediately unclasped the bag that held the armor from the saddlebag and handed it over.

  While Humonus entered the command tent with his two generals-in-tow to help him put the armor on, Cheo took the rear seat of the hawk’s saddle, while Darius took the front seat.

  As Humonus came to find out, thirty-or-so minutes later, his armor fit just like a glove! While waiting for the next half hour so he could have his turn riding on the hawk, he began performing somersaults and other acrobatics, in order to see that he had his “flexibility.” He did … and after the hour was over, he got his ride on the hawk, which ride was, in his opinion, “incredibly exhilarating.”

  Following, they—and the army—got to watch as Darius allowed the hawk to hunt on her own … and once over, everyone ate dinner and went to bed.

  For the next week, the army spread itself out into their original battle formation, before they began to maneuver at a slower-than-normal pace through the Galgaa Jungles, due to the lush jungle environment that existed everywhere—Humonus had also ordered the army to be very flexible, and to avoid any areas that looked un-traversable. So, very rare was the time when a chariot or a wagon actually got stuck in the mud, which immediately had to be pulled out.

  Throughout the evenings, whenever the army had made camp for the night, Humonus and Cheo quickly learned how to fly the hawk … per Darius’s instructions. It was just like riding a horse, as they quickly found out, except for the fact they could additionally go up and down.

  Strangely enough, there weren’t any other encounters against the gnomes the entire time! Nor had it even rained even once, which was highly unusual for a jungle environment.

  CHAPTER XIV

  Back in the Vispano Province—1 evening later…

  Only seconds after the sun had set on this particular night, Baltor woke up out of his deep sleep in the command tent.

  Upon having completed with his bath in the portable bathtub, drying himself off, and putting on all of his underclothes, his assistants came in so that they could fit him into the armor and equip him with his swords … just like every night.

  Only seconds after the assistants had finished and departed, Thorn entered the command tent, saluted, and then reported, “My Sultan, a special surprise dinner will be here momentarily.”

  With a smile, Bator said, “Thank you, General Thorn—perfect timing, as always!”

  “Thank you, my Sultan…”

  “Where is General Petrol?”

  “He said he’ll be here in about ten minutes, or so, as he had a few important things to take care of with the troops, my Sultan.”

  “No problem,” Baltor said as he took his seat at the table, which had been set for three. Thorn sat down on the other side.

  Not even five seconds later, three male soldiers entered the tent, carrying a tray of steaming food. Following behind them was a female soldier carrying two pitchers—one filled with water and the other with wine.

  Right away was the food and drinks set neatly onto the table, before these four soldiers saluted and departed the command tent.

  After the lids were removed and steam had cleared, a few seconds later, what became revealed were spicy-red potatoes that had an equally spiced strip of salmon to its side.

  Only seconds later did Baltor become very pleased with the taste of the fresh salmon he ate, instead of the heated-up porridge or dried jerky that they typically ate.

  Several bites later, Thorn revealed, “About two hours ago, we discovered a large river not too far away from here, so while most of us set up camp, I had several thousand of our troops go fishing. The salmon you are eating now came from the river, and is quite delicious, yes, my Sultan?”

  “Wonderful!”

  “Thank you, but I did not cook this. It just was my idea.”

  “Outstanding idea, General.”

  “Thank you, my Sultan!”

  “You’re welcome!”

  Upon completion of dinner that even included a couple glasses of red wine, a just-promoted general entered the command tent, snapped his salute, and reported, “My Sultan, the troops are outside ready in formation, and ready to train under your command.”

  Baltor replied, “Excellent work, General Loken”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  A moment later, Loken asked with quite a bit of curiosity to his voice, “By the way, what is it that we will all get to learn today? Blind fighting? Some additional martial arts techniques? Weapons training? What?”

  After having swallowed the portion of salmon in his mouth, Baltor replied, “Actually, I haven’t decided that—I’ll know once we commence with the next lesson, as I always let my intuition guide me.”

  “As you wish, my Sultan,” Loken said.

  He snapped a sharp salute, before he departed out the command tent with his two colonels—only seconds later, Petrol entered the tent, bowed to his leader, and said, “Finally…time to e—”

  Petrol did not get to finish his word of “eat,” for what interrupted him was the cry of one word resounding outside the command tent—“gnomes!”

  Not even a second later, Baltor and his generals were all running out the tent with swords drawn and ready—they saw that every soldier was now frozen in place with weapons and/or shield in hand, as Baltor had earlier instructed them to do! After all, they had undergone many training sessions in learning how to fight blindly—they were ready for the darkness to enshroud the land.

  Ten million gnomes magically appeared around the entire encampment in the blink of an eye! Strangely enough, there were no magic black clouds anywhere … they clearly wanted to be seen.

  Only a handful of seconds later, Baltor’s ears were the first to detect the sound of flapping wings from somewhere far off to the east—instantly Thorn, who had just caught up, asked with a little fear in his voice, “Is—is that the dragon?”

  Still scanning the skies, especially to the east, Baltor replied with a cool calmness, “My intuition tells me that it is the dragon, this army’s leader, who has come to have our pre-war discussion—yes.”

  “What is your command, my Sultan?” Petrol asked with apprehension in his voice.

  “Commanding-General, calm yourself down and order the men to form ranks—I shall personally deal with this dragon myself!” Baltor ordered. “Perhaps, just like before, this war can be averted and millions of lives saved, if the dragon and I fight one on one combat to the death?”

  Before Petrol could order the troops, Baltor interrupted him as he smacked his left fist into his right open palm, declaring aloud, “Yes, this is the exact route in making their army disorganized! This is how we will ultimately win this war today, so that we can go back homes to our wives and families.”

  “Yes, my Sultan! Forces, form ranks!”

  Thirty seconds later, the source of the sounds could be seen by everyone—a dark shadow flying in the skies toward them!

  Only Baltor’s eyes were able to zoom in and clearly see every single detail about this gargantuan black dragon that nonchalantly flew back and forth through the skies. This creature was as big as a house!

  Baltor’s super-intelligent mind had already tabulated that this dragon was nearly a hundred feet in length, and eighty feet in width if you counted the sixty-foot wingspan—it also had at least fifty tons of flesh that was protected by natural black-plated body armor!

  Only once in every ten seconds or so did those massive wings flap, though for the rest of the time they remained evenly spread out. Its flight pattern resembled a hawk’s.

  It took another half minute before the dragon arrived by landing on the ground right next to the command tent. Right near Baltor and all his officers.

  The fear in the soldiers’ eyes was clearly evident, and the dragon appeared to be thoroughly reveling in that fear, as it gazed all around with its emerald green eyes squinting menacingly, coupled with its very sinister and snaky smile!

  A few mom
ents later, the dragon looked over at Baltor, and hissed, “Greetingsss, Baltor. Now isss the time that we finally meet for the first time face to face in the flesh on the battlefield…and perhapsss for the last! Will you join usss?”

  “Never,” Baltor calmly replied.

  The dragon replied, “I’ll tell you what, Baltor. Ssssurrender all your forcesss to me, asss well your life and sssoul, and I will spare the livesss of everyone on this stinking world! If you do not surrender, however, my army of darklingsss and I will kill every single one of you—asss you can see, you and your army are completely surrounded, and outmatched. You will lossssssse…”

  Baltor answered with a question of his own, “How about a one on one between me and you—nameless one?”

  “How rude of me…let me introduce myself—my name isss Dreeak!”

  “Well how about it, Dreeak? How about it? One on one? You versus me? Man versus dragon? Come on, Dreeak the Freak—bring it on!”

  Instead of answering any of Baltor’s questions and attitudes, Dreeak replied with a question of her own, “Why don’t you just honorably sssacrifice yourself for the world, and prepare for your death that isss inevitable?”

  In exasperation, Baltor flung both his hands and head high up into the heavens, and while gazing all around in those skies, cried out, “My God, why have you given me such a cowardly and stupid dragon who speaks of honor and sacrifice as if it knew all about these divine qualities, yet knows nothing at all?”

  Instead of waiting for a response from God or the dragon—Baltor’s hands instantly grasped the handles of his swords, unsheathed them, and threw them like darts straight for the dragon’s eyes!

  Even though each sword simultaneously punctured through an eyeball of the dragon, the illusion completely disappeared in “a puff of smoke,” as did all the images of the darkling gnomes!

  Baltor’s dropped-open mouth asked the question, “What the—?”

  The very second he had begun to voice this question, his two swords landed and stuck themselves into the ground, fortunately without hurting anyone in the process.

  Just as Baltor had begun over to walk to retrieve his swords, the sounds of flapping wings, as well a deep booming laughter, could be heard far away to the southeast; soon after, those sounds dissipated into the night…

  After he had sheathed his swords, only a couple moments later, he declared through his megaphone, “Forces—what we obviously just experienced was a magical illusion of epic proportions!

  “So, from here on out, whether you can see and hear a darkling gnome and/or dragon does not mean they are actually there. Thus, trust only in your sense of intuition, in order to win against the actual foes wherever they lie. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my Sultan!” they all boomed.

  “Unset camp and eat dinner…in one hour, we assume battle formations and move southeast. Dismissed.”

  They did.

  Precisely one hour later, and the report was given that all was said and done, Baltor replied, “Excellent! Major-General Thorn, order the forces to move.”

  Only a second earlier, Thorn had arrived riding on one horse while bearing the reins of Baltor’s horse. While handing those reins over, he answered, “Yes, my Sultan!”

  After Baltor had grabbed the reins, Thorn called out, “Forward march—half right, march.”

  Baltor climbed into the saddle of Grasha and the army began to once again march southeast. By sunrise the following morning and without any encounters, they made camp with triple the normal guards. That night, before camp could be unset, Baltor issued the order that the army was to keep the camp set for the night as they would be staying one more night—the following morning was when they would move on.

  That night, alone in his command tent with the strict order not to be disturbed for any reason other than if they were being attacked, Baltor continued to make what he called “acid bombs.”

  In order to produce one such bomb, which he had learned long ago how to create in his chemistry class, there were three necessary ingredients—the first ingredient was a glass beaker that had all these qualities: one-gallon sized, ovular-shaped and acid-proof.

  The next two ingredients were very different, yet equally powerful acidic solutions that could eat through flesh, rock, and even steel … all but this special glass.

  As Baltor had almost-fatally discovered, years ago, during the time of the “Great Earthquake,” as well his classmates and teacher, the first type of acid reacts very violently when shaken up and intermixing with sudden large doses of oxygen—it literally explodes like a bomb!

  So, here were the very-very-very careful steps Baltor used in order to make each and every acid bomb—first, he set the opened-at-the-top beaker into a beaker holder sitting on his table.

  He next filled the beaker nearly halfway with the first solution, and then he ever so slowly heated the glass in the middle until it got soft and manageable. Once so, he ever so gently pinched the glass in the middle with pliers until thoroughly sealed. After the glass was cool and stiff, he inspected the beaker to make sure it was sealed, washed out the top half, dried it, and filled it three-quarters of the way to the top with the second solution. Finally yet importantly, he heated the glass back up and thoroughly sealed it at the very top.

  Baltor could only imagine the “devastatingly brutal effects” that would occur when the glass finally got shattered and the two acids intermixed—after all, he had never seen this weapon yet explode!

  For this very reason, the reason of caution, he ensured that the “completed acid bombs” were carefully wrapped in blankets, placed in a wood box, and stored in the back of the supply wagons. By the end of this night, since having left Pavelus, he had managed to create yet another bomb to add to his collection of sixty-four.

  The following morning, while the army marched, Baltor slept in the back of one of the bunk wagons—nearly a dozen small-to-medium battles against dark gnomes occurred throughout this day, but nothing major occurred—only a dozen friendly casualties there were in total, while hundreds of gnomes died. That night, while the army camped and treated their wounded, he made yet another bomb—sixty-five.

  CHAPTER XV

  In the Kingdom of Thorium—the very next morning…

  Chelsea arrived at the docks of Politesse on her ship. As soon as she had identified herself to the port authorities, both rank and name, a small procession of guards escorted her beyond the city walls, through the beautiful capital city, and up to the stunning stone castle that lay near the center. Thousands of city folk walked here and there, mindful of their own business.

  This massive/ten-story building had not just been built for looks, yet more-so to be a formidable fortress—complete with a moat that surrounded her and an attached drawbridge that was currently down.

  Once inside, the guards forthwith escorted Chelsea to the throne room, where she saw a gorgeous young woman sitting in her red-velvet throne. She had short-cropped, blonde and wavy hair, wore a golden crown, and of course, a classy golden dress.

  The royal announcer declared in the language of Thorium, “Queen Calitta… Ambassador Chelsea of the Sharia Empire has arrived, and wishes to speak with you.”

  Calitta politely greeted in Pavelian, “Welcome to Politesse, Ambassador Chelsea.”

  With another low bow, Chelsea replied, “Thank you, Queen Calitta.”

  “So, what brings you to my kingdom?”

  “Most likely you have heard the news that the Sharia Empire has recently taken over the Vaspan Empire?” Chelsea answered with a question of her own.

  With a pleased smile upon her face, Calitta answered, “Yes, I have, which is a very, very, very good thing! Emperor Vaspan has been a royal pain to us for many decades now, stealing our lands and killing not only our soldiers, yet marauding and pillaging our villagers—men, women, and children.”

  With an understanding nod, Chelsea said, “As you know, he was just as much of a problem for the Sharia Empire, but now this
problem has finally been eradicated, Your Majesty. He was killed in a one-on-one duel with Sultan Baltor Elysian. The Sultan and his wife now equally rule both the Sharia and the Vaspan Empire.”

  “Most excellent news,” the queen replied. “By the way, have you had breakfast yet, ambassador?”

  Chelsea answered with a smile, “No, I have not…”

  “Would you dine with me for breakfast? I haven’t even eaten yet.”

  “I would be delighted to dine with you, your Majesty.”

  Returning the smile as well a nod to her head, Calitta rose from her throne. Besides the thirty guards who accompanied them, the two left the throne room, and headed for the royal dining hall.

  Once there, nearly five minutes later, servants served a delicious breakfast, consisting of breakfast meats, hard-boiled eggs, toasted muffins, fresh fruits, and fruit juices.

  Nearing the end of breakfast, in between taking small bites as well the two sharing a few get-to-know-you conversations, Calitta finally asked, “So, are you married, Ambassador Chelsea?”

  As soon as Chelsea had swallowed a piece of spicy sausage, she replied, “Why yes I am. Are you, Queen Calitta?”

  “No, I’m not. Even though I’ve had a lot of suitors and three fiancées over my life, mostly princes from other nations, I’ve never married. It is so hard nowadays to find a suitable man, and most especially, a suitable king for my kingdom!”

  “Really?”

  “Unfortunately so. So tell me, what’s your husband’s name and what does he do?”

  “Well, I am married to Ruling-General Humonus, and he is off fighting a campaign for the Sharia Empire as we speak.”

  “Hmmm, I met a man named Humonus, once upon a time, when I was a teenaged girl—I think he was about seventeen or eighteen, but he was no soldier and definitely no ruling general.”