Once Salami had finished interpreting to Yaush what Baltor had just said, Yaush deeply boomed out in the language of Pavelian, “I agee, my friend.”
With surprise etched all over Baltor’s face, he looked over at Yaush—after all, his ears had never before heard Yaush use any other language than Valakanese!
Because Salami caught the look, he explained in Valakanese, which Baltor clearly understood, “Baltor, my friend—I mean, my Sultan—the very day after you left us, after your last way-too-short visit in Valakan, Yaush asked me to teach him this language, and I agreed. Ever since we left Valakan, Humonus had begun trying to teach him Pavelian whenever he had the time as well, which wasn’t a lot.”
Baltor didn’t know which language he used when he asked his next one-worded question, “Really?”
Salami said, “Yes—even though it has been nearly a year since we started, and I have done my very best in trying to teach him this language because you and I speak it fluently, Yaush has had a very difficult time learning and remembering the words and phrases…”
After taking a deep breath through his nose, he added, “To date, he can only name about a dozen different types of objects, and say a half-dozen very-short phrases, or so…
“Jimnee, however, has proven herself to be a quick learner—wait till you learn what she’ll probably be able to say when next you talk to her back in Pavelus, especially with Jimnee being best friends with Brishava!”
Three of those six men bore looks of happiness and pride upon their faces—Yaush, Salami, and Baltor.
However, the other three men—Cheo, Stormea, and Ray—had total looks of confusion as to what was being said, as none could speak or understand Valakanese.
After chuckling for a second, Baltor explained in Pavelian, “We were just recalling how well Yaush’s wife and my own got along. Now, let’s get down to business…
“Let’s make camp here tonight with five times the normal guards on duty. Tomorrow morning I also want to sleep in a random regular soldier’s tent, which will essentially be my command tent. Have only two guards posted around this tent, as well the surrounding eight tents—tomorrow night, one hour after sunset, we ride the remaining six miles until we reach the dragon’s army—and destroy them once and for all! Have all our men on yellow alert, ready for combat at any given second… just in case they decide to come to us.”
While Stormea, Cheo, and Salami simply nodded their heads up and down, Ray was the only to broadcast aloud, “Good idea, my Sultan!”
Salami interpreted to Yaush—in turn, Yaush said in Pavelian, “Yes.”
“So this’ll be the plan we’ll brief our troops in thirty minutes,” Baltor concluded.
Without so much as a single encounter with the dark gnomes or the dragon the entire time that night or the following day, that evening just after sunset, Baltor awoke in the bunk of a four-man-tent, but this time he was alone.
After he had bathed in his bathtub of heated water that several soldiers had dropped off prior to sunset, he dried off with a towel and walked over to the large, steel chest sitting next to his bunk. He opened it.
This chest had two different compartments—the side on the left contained six shelves of grooming and primping tools; i.e., a comb, hair and body lotions, razors and razorblades, scissors, etc, etc. The side on the right contained his “sparkling” battle armor and boots, which a soldier must have graciously volunteered his or her time to clean and polish.
Without delay he began the process of strapping on his armor on his own, and once comfortably secured to his body ten minutes later, he finally attached the sheaths on his back, which contained his sharpened/polished swords.
In order to ensure that his armor fit perfectly for the “upcoming battle,” which would most likely start this very evening, Baltor walked toward the mirror.
For the next ten minutes or so and with weapons in hand, he practiced all of his defensive blocks and rolls, offensive strikes and kicks, and/or acrobatic maneuvers like somersaults, cartwheels, flips, etc. On occasion, he stopped in order to inspect his armor for anything that needed to be tightened or corrected … when such was the case, he fixed what needed fixing.
Just after he had finished launching a defensive roll to the front and getting back on his feet, his eyes spotted through the mirror an unrecognizable soldier entering through the main flap of his tent—she was carrying a steaming tray in her hands.
After throwing a quick nod, of which nod was returned, Baltor’s eyes instantly focused themselves on his own armor, for its final inspection. He sheathed his swords.
Yet only a second later, he found himself once again staring at the girl—whose uniform identified her as a corporal and whose beauty was nearly unmatched.
She had already arrived at the steel chest and kneeled down, so that she could shut the lid of the chest while still holding onto the steamy food tray, evident by the delicious food smells protruding throughout the tent.
Once she had shut the lid of the chest, the corporal set the tray down, put her right hand on the lid, but did not open it. Instead, she cast her gaze over her shoulder to look at Baltor and smiled!
In a second’s glance, his mind had already memorized her incredibly beautiful features: thick and wavy brown hair, penetrating-brown eyes, button-shaped nose, voluptuous lips. Last but not least, a very-nicely-rounded body frame! Truly, this girl was “a beauty queen amongst beauty queens.”
In order to get his mind refocused, as it should be because he was a “happily married man” and he had “a most-important battle to think about,” he cleared his throat and greeted, “Good evening, Corporal.”
While still looking his way, yet without having moved her sexy body a single inch, the corporal greeted back with a very soft and pretty voice, “Good evening to you, my Sultan.”
A second later, she cast her gaze back at the tray before she removed the lid, which caused rising steam to envelope everything like a thick cloud above her neckline for approximately six seconds.
Once that timeframe had passed, and there was only a fractional portion of the steam still left, he first saw that there was a juicy steak, delicately surrounded by a surprisingly large serving of spicy-rice … reddish in color.
A second later, the corporal stood straight up before she turned her whole body to face Baltor—this woman’s hair, face, and neck were slightly damp with perspiration.
Due to the intoxicating smells of food, his stomach grumbled hungrily and loudly. In response to that rather loud noise, his mouth unexpectedly found itself beginning to chuckle—strangely enough. Even stranger to his mind was the fact that she began to giggle back.
Once she had stopped giggling, about a dozen seconds later, she suggested with a slightly mischievous look in her eyes, “My Sultan, if there’s ever anything—and I do mean anything—that I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask. To introduce myself, my name is Corporal Jewel.”
While his right eyebrow rose, his left eyebrow squinted for a couple of seconds in contemplation—before his mind had the time to comprehend what she might also be suggesting, his mouth had answered of its own accord, “Thanks for the food, Corporal Jewel. Nice to meet you.”
After extending both arms and hands straight out in front of her for emphasis, she declared with a very soft and sexy voice, “And you are so welcome, Sultan Elysian. I must confess, however, that I wasn’t the one who prepared your meal, but only delivered it for Your Majesty’s enjoyment and pleasure! It smells blissfully delicious…doesn’t it?”
Without intending to, Baltor found his mouth chuckling for just a couple times before he was able to squash his laughter with a short sigh, and then answer, “Yes—it does...”
Jewel dropped her arms to her sides, and said, “Well, I must be getting—I still have a few more missions to accomplish, my Sultan.”
Just after she had lightly snapped a girly salute, he crisply returned a quick salute while replying, “Carry on...”
Afte
r releasing her salute, Jewel began to near his location, in order to make her way out of the tent. Just as she was about to pass right on by, however, her left foot mysteriously tripped against some “invisible force” and she began to fall toward the ground!
Baltor’s cat-like reflexes instantly took over, and before he knew it, he had both arms lightly wrapped around her waist, which stopped her from hitting the ground—not even a second later, Jewel breathed out, “Tha—thank you, my Sultan!”
“Umm…you’re welcome,” Baltor answered with a slightly cracking voice, just before he found himself clearing his throat again. He was only a second away from helping her to get back onto her feet, but before he could do this, he felt both of her hands clasping around the back of his head, and firmly guiding his lips toward hers.
Before he knew it, their lips were intertwining with a light, yet very pleasing, kiss—all the while, both pairs of eyes remained steadfastly open, except of course to occasionally blink!
Her lips slowly but surely began to suck harder and harder, as she was rapidly getting caught up in the moment of ecstasy, and only seconds later, she closed her eyes. Baltor, also caught in the moment, closed his own eyes.
Despite the incredible amount of passionate pleasure his lips and even his whole body now felt, eleven seconds later, Brishava’s face popped in his mind’s eye. Instantly he pulled his head away from hers.
In the next second, he stammered, “I—we can’t do this! I’m happily married to Sultaness Brishava. If I wasn’t married, it’d be a different story, Jewel, trust me on that, but it’s not… I’m sorry!”
Jewel rose to her feet of her own accord and with a very flushed look to her cheeks. She apologetically said, “No—I’m the one who’s sorry for letting myself get out of control, my Sultan. It’s just that you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my whole life!
“The truth is…I’ve fantasized about you so often since I first saw you standing on the palace’s balcony taking charge over the Sharia Empire, and now, I allowed my fantasy to take control over my reality. Again, I’m sorry, my Sultan!”
“It’s okay,” Baltor said after taking a deep breath. “Carry on, Corporal Jewel.”
“Yes, my Sultan,” Jewel said just before she bowed and hastily exited the tent.
Baltor’s stomach once again growled angrily, and so he picked up his fork with one hand and his plate with the other, sat down on the bunk, sprinkled his seasoning on his food, and ate his delicious dinner alone—all the while, the troops and the giants had nearly finished unsetting camp and the temporary stables.
By the time he had exited the command tent, five minutes later, he saw that the camp was completely unset, and that the forces were already in battle formation. Looking and sounding greatly impressed, Baltor called out in a commanding tone, “Forces—attention!” He did not need a megaphone to be heard.
The entire army assumed the position of attention on their mounts or chariots or wagons—meanwhile, the giants who had been casually standing around, instantly assumed their own battle formation of the pyramid with their shields facing outwards.
Not even two seconds later, the hawks landed on the ground about twenty feet away from Baltor’s position—after turning around, he saw Traes sitting in the backseat of Praetor, firmly holding the reins with one hand and a scope with the other.
Sitting in the front seat of the other hawk was Cheo who held the reins. In the backseat was Darius, equipped with his own scope.
Baltor walked over until he was standing right in front of his hawk. Once there, only a few seconds later, he gazed deep into his hawk’s eyes—eyes that were staring right back—and pet his feathery cheeks while telepathically asking, Are you ready for battle, my most-beautiful hawk, Praetor?
Inside his mind, he clearly heard Praetor say, Yes I am, my master! I have learned very well how to maneuver by your telepathic commands alone over these last few weeks. Whatever you want me to do—just let me know… you’re wish is my command!
Baltor replied, Thank you, my friend!
One more thing I’d like to say, my master.
Yes, Praetor?
If I don’t come out of this alive, I’d like to say it’s been an honor to die at your side, my master!
After nodding his head a couple of times, Baltor sucked in a deep breath before answering, And let me say that it’s been an honor, my friend, to have lived by yours…
Though hawks cannot physically smile, Baltor could totally feel the smiles he and his beloved hawk shared for a few more seconds, before he climbed into the saddle and buckled up—upon seeing his Sultan complete that task, Traes immediately handed over the reins without a word spoken.
Ready, Praetor? Baltor asked telepathically, as he tied the reins around the front pommel on the saddle.
Yes, my master! I know we will win now…
Launch!
Praetor launched straight up into the air—at fifty feet in altitude, he heard Baltor telepathically say, Level out now…
The hawk did as ordered—meanwhile, his sister hawk Leshava followed right behind, thanks to Cheo’s expert directional steering using the reins.
The second Baltor’s eyes saw that the army and the giants were ready to travel, he called out from above through his megaphone, “Forward—ride!”
They, including both hawks, did.
An hour and a half later upon this very dark night—mostly cloudy without either moon visible—the army finally arrived at the western borders of the barren field that Darius had earlier scouted out the dark gnome army, which army had obviously never left.
Everyone, not just Baltor, could clearly see tens of millions of dark gnomes—some were on the ground and others were flying in the air—all were clearly visible because of the tens of thousands of magically-glowing red orbs that also floated ten feet up in the air! They wanted to be seen!
Both males and females wore the same exact black attire, from the boots on their feet, to the chain mail armored vest, to a cape with hood that covered their face and bodies. Their impressive variety of weapons was the only thing that distinguished anything about them at all!
In that next moment, Baltor’s superhuman senses revealed that there weren’t actually tens of millions, but only a little more than a million dark gnomes waiting—odds that made it fifty-to-one against his own forces. Still astronomical in the odds of winning, in is unspoken opinion, but not impossible.
After all, he had a little more than twenty thousand cavalry forces, and several hundred giants. Unfortunately, the bulk of his forces (hundreds of thousands) were still more than six weeks away. This battle would be long over by then…
Despite the horrible odds, Baltor refused to get fazed or scared. Once his assault-team had reached the one-mile-marker from the enemy, he confidently issued the command from above, “Halt!”
The forces did.
Because Baltor could now sense the incredible nervousness and fears in all his troops, especially because of the odds not being stacked in their favor, he began to fly his hawk back and forth in front of his troops.
All the while, he called out through the megaphone he unstrapped from Praetor’s saddle, “Forces! I can sense the fear that is in your hearts and your minds! It is okay to be afraid, but if you let fear govern, and you flee like a coward, then know that this evil army and their dragon leader has one singular purpose—too destroy our beloved world, including our friends, our family, and our Sharia Empire!
“Do not let their numbers, which are ‘mostly an illusion,’ scare you. Actually, they only have a little over a million dark gnomes! So once I have dispensed with the dragon, I shall jump right into the middle of their swarms and help you all out! I promise…”
After a very short pause, Baltor added, “For the Sharia Empire!”
For a few moments, most of the troops remained gloomily silent. Only the highest-ranking officers were the very few to emphatically respond!
At the top of his voice, Baltor
called out yet again, “For the Sharia Empire!”
This time, hundreds of troops responded, though most sounded weak, “For the Sharia Empire!”
After sucking in a really deep breath, Baltor roared aloud, “For the Sharia Empire!!”
This time, tens of thousands of troops responded emphatically, “For the Sharia Empire!!”
While drawing his swords and holding them crossed over his head, Baltor sucked in yet another breath, just before he roared like a dragon, “For the Sharia Empire!!!”
The entire troops and even the giants responded with such zeal that even the dark gnomes, all the way on the other side of the battlefield, became just a bit startled! A few strangely became afraid.
Feeling satisfied by their last response, Baltor sheathed back his swords, and said through his megaphone, “Excellent! King Cheo and I shall now ride out to meet the enemies’ leader for the pre-combat meeting. Be patient. We shall return shortly! Ruling-General Stormea, you’re in charge while we’re gone.”
“Yes, my Sultan!” Stormea called back from below, of whom was riding on Baltor’s black stallion, Grasha. At the same time, Baltor and Cheo made their way on the hawks to the center of the battlefield.
Upon seeing the two hawks and their four riders coming their way, the dragon who was on the ground in the very middle of all her gnomes, launched herself into the air, and flew out alone to meet them.
Once they had all arrived in the very middle of the battlefield, approximately two minutes later, they landed upon the ground, facing each other at a distance of thirty feet.
With a menacing grin that included her forked tongue slithering out between her teeth for a second, the dragon began, “Nice speech, Baltor, but hopelesssss—”
Without an ounce of fear, Baltor interrupted, “That is your opinion of the situation, Dreeak. Hope is only dead once dismissed by the heart and mind.”
“The situation,” Dreeak countered, “isss that the bulk of your forcesss cannot help you, and you’ll all be long dead by the time they arrive, and then they too will die, asss will thisss whole world. However, if you surrender your life and your soul to me now, we can avert thisss unnecessary war! You are the one I really want, and the reason we have come…yesss!”
BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan Page 31
