The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons (28 page)

“Dragon gems?” Ylithia asked.

Scar was about to answer when N’Giwah
interrupted. “Hold a moment,” he said while prodding around the
ceiling where their way out used to lay.

“What is it?” Scar asked.

“The exit, it is blocked,” the Tiamatish
explorer replied.

“What do you mean blocked?” Lortho
bellowed.

N’Giwah motioned to Jayna to come closer. She
obliged and held her torch up toward the ceiling. Above them, where
the cave’s wall stepped up to the exit, a boulder of considerable
size had been rolled to block their way to the surface.

“Someone has tried to bury us inside,”
Shamara announced. “I fear now more than ever that not only did the
Khmerans enter from here, but that our kin must be in danger.”

“If they’re not dead, already,” Lortho
shouted.

“Peace,” N’Giwah said. “I will remove this
obstacle.” He placed his hands on the stone and began working his
Tiamatish power, saying, “The Dragon may have lied to my people,
but I still command its power.”

N’Giwah closed his eyes and concentrated on
the boulder. His magic allowed him to soften the stone little by
little. He pushed one crag and pinched a protuberance. Then he
pushed and kneaded it like tough clay.

“Wait a minute,” Hija broke the silence.
“Perhaps someone who knows about the memory of Alduheim is
preventing us from enlightening the world.”

“Impossible,” Ylithia rebutted. “I never
allowed anyone back there.”

Hija looked her up and down and spat, “That’s
right, girl, you killed our warriors.”

By the time Shamara attempted to keep the
peace, N’Giwah had small portions of the stone molding to his
touch. He was busy working the edges away from the cave’s opening,
but Scar groaned, weary at the display, and forced his way to the
stone ledge. He placed his hand on N’Giwah’s shoulder to draw his
attention.

“Allow me,” he said.

“What can you do, warrior,” N’Giwah asked
sardonically.

“Just let me try something,” Scar huffed.
N’Giwah motioned with a flick of his wrist and winced. Scar let the
man step away, and then he struck the stone with both open palms.
The impact knocked it clear out of sight. “There,” Scar said and
started to crawl out.

“We have been down here a long time,” N’Giwah
said. “It is already dark out. Be careful out there.”

One-by-one, they all made their exit and took
in great gulps of cool, fresh air. The surrounding area appeared
ominous at night; immense boulders loomed more jagged and
menacingly. The quietude permeating from the surrounding wooded
area sent chills up the spines of the group. Jayna eventually made
her way out and shined her torch about. There wasn’t much of a sign
of anything in the vicinity, and so the squad of explorers and
fighters made their way back to camp, keeping their eyes and ears
open for anything.

“Stay here a moment,” Scar suddenly
ordered.

“Why?” N’Giwah barked before the mercenary
had time to explain.

“Because I want to scout ahead.”

“Hurry.”

Scar nodded and quietly traipsed off, taking
a roundabout way back to the camp. Outside the shacks, he found his
men and N’Giwah’s slain. Drying blood pooled around three headless
Khmerans in colored robes. Weapons were laying near the deceased.
By the time Scar knelt down to inspect one of the Kulshedran
archers, N’Giwah and the rest came up behind him.

“They’re dead,” Scar murmured. “They’re all
dead.”

“Khmeran bastards!” Lortho shouted and ran to
Tarvin’s side. He stumbled about in momentary disbelief before
kneeling to cradle his friend. Lortho removed his helmet and gave
Tarvin a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see those wretched animals dead
for you!”

“It was not the work of blades killed these
men,” Ylithia said while inspecting the corpse of a sword maiden.
She removed a wooden dart from the body’s neck, displaying it for
all to see. “Khmeran fighters couldn’t have done this, though they
may have created a diversion. This is the work of an assassin.”

“Poland,” Scar heaved and ran about looking
for the old man. “Poland?”

He searched about while the others checked
their kind, cursed, swore blood oaths, and kept eyes peeled for the
professed assassin. Unable to locate the old man’s corpse, Scar
started searching shacks. In the second one, he saw the body of
Poland splayed out, face down, on the dirt floor. A dart protruded
from the base of his skull.

As Scar took a knee for closer inspection, a
flash drew his attention. Two points of light forced him to look up
in time to see something coming at his face, and he swiped at the
air catching the dart. The assassin was in the high corner of the
shack using his feet to brace himself by the ceiling. The figure
lowered a blowgun from his mouth, and Scar bolted backwards out of
the shack, shut the door, and howled out to the others.

“Quickly! Surround the shack! The assassin is
in here!”

The squad fanned out to encircle the wooden
building. A malevolent laughter bled through the shack door.

“The Khmerans have failed in their task, and
so have I it appears,” the voice chuckled.

“Hachi!” Scar blurted out. “You sack of crap!
Where’s Labolas? What have you done?”

“You’ll get no answers from me, ghost.”

“No? Come out here and talk to me…I think
you’ll enjoy a little conversation,” Scar spoke through clenched
teeth.

“No conversation. I’ll come out and accept my
death. It is the price for failure in the order anyway,” Hachi said
miserably.

As soon as Scar saw the door start to open,
he smashed his fist through the wood and connected with the
Bakunawan’s face. The blow knocked him out cold, and Scar dragged
him out.

“Bind him,” he ordered. “I’ll get answers
before this maggot dies.”

Two Kulshedrans quickly assisted. While they
used leather straps meant for aid in supporting camping tents or
hammocks to secure Hachi, the remaining fighters gathered to
witness the unfolding situation. Steely eyes glared holes into the
Bakunawan assassin. Scowls of hatred accompanied bared teeth. They
wanted blood.

“Bind his arms behind his back and his wrists
to his feet. I want him to look at me while I bleed him,” Scar
growled.

Bosen and Pater, the two who had the
Bakunawan, complied and in a moment Hachi was placed face up,
dreaming of better times behind closed eyelids. Blood had smeared
onto his nose and mouth. Scar quickly removed a canteen from the
shack and drizzled the water over the bound man’s face. While the
group held out for vengeance, Hachi came to with a sputter. The
mercenary motioned to Jayna for her torch. He took it and held it
close to Hachi’s face.

The Bakunawan tried to move away. He quickly
realized his predicament. Wracking pain radiated from his broken
nose and his eyes went wide for a moment. Then he laughed and spat
at Scar. The saliva splattered on the mercenary’s face, but his
stoic expression implied his rage was beyond offense. He wiped the
spit off with the back of his hand.

“Going to torture me?” Hachi asked with a
grin. “I’m an assassin of The Order of Light. Do you know what that
means?”

“That you’re stupid enough to bleed before
inevitably providing answers,” Scar replied without missing a beat.
That was sufficient to make Hachi swallow hard with an ill
anticipation. “Hija, your knife?”

The Tiamatish woman obliged with a glower in
Hachi’s direction. As she handed Scar the bone blade, the mercenary
removed his sword from his back and sank the tip into the ground.
Hija gave the assassin a sound kick in the ribs that forced the
wind from his lungs. He choked and gasped for a second, but soon
recovered and laughed. Scar smiled while lowering himself close to
Hachi, the bone knife in his fist.

First, Scar also planted the torch in the
dirt next to Hachi’s head. Having ample light was a preference.
Next, he gripped Hachi by the chin and forced the back of his head
into the ground. A clear view of twinkling stars under a peaceful
night was only the first thing Hachi noticed. Then he saw the bone
blade looming above his face.

“Why did you kill everyone?” Scar
whispered.

“Orders.”

“From?”

Hachi did not reply. Scar carefully pushed
the tip of the knife into the assassin’s eye. Though grinding his
teeth and breathing heavily, Scar’s hand was steady as ever, and
the further in the blade dug, the louder Hachi screamed. His eye
deflated with an oozing secretion as the bone pushed passed his
eyelid. Scar sniffed once and waited.

“Who wants me dead?”

Between gurgling breaths, Hachi said, “You
can rot in Hell, ghost. Bakunawa has promised me a place in
Bathala.”

“Bakunawa has lied to you,” Scar replied. “It
doesn’t matter. We’re only just starting, and by the time you’re
ready to see your Dragon Lord, I’ll have all the answers I
need.

“You’re mad.”

“Yes…in more ways than one.”

Scar proceeded to roll Hachi onto his
stomach. The fighters grumbled words of anger, making claims that
unimaginable pain was due, that death was to be repaid in kind;
that mercy was for warriors not hired killers. While the Bakunawan
inhaled dirt and grass, the mercenary took a breath to steady his
nerves and punctured the tip of Hachi’s right index. The man
groaned through tight lips, but said nothing. Scar pierced two more
fingers before Hachi passed out.

“This should wake you, friend,” he said, and
held the torch to the assassins treadless, black, leather boot.

Within seconds Hachi’s body was revived with
a spasmodic jerking. He howled out in pain and growled like an
animal trying uselessly to wriggle out from Scar’s iron grip. The
mercenary’s arm tensed holding Hachi in place. He eased the fire
away for a moment.

“You understand I’m not going to kill you.
You won’t see Bakunawa until the wolves come to feast on your
viscera…and you’ll be very much alive while they eat.”

As Hachi snorted out puffs of dirt, he
wriggled against his binds. Words of praise were spoken about
wolves’ propensity for slowly removing intestines before devouring
their prey.

“You might as well tell me everything from
the beginning; why you were sent with Labolas…if I like what I
hear, I’ll consider ending your misery…otherwise.”

Scar trailed off, but not before putting the
torch against Hachi’s foot again.

“Graah! All right, all right!” he puffed, and
Scar removed the flames a moment. “The answer’s right in front of
you. General Sulas ordered me to go along. He wanted everyone dead
and the Khmerans blamed.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t ask. I was paid to do a job.”

Scar looked at his confederates and asked,
“What do you make of it?”

“He’s lying,” Pater growled. “No Kulshedran
would hire a killer like him. He just wants you angry enough to
kill him.”

“Just leave him for the wolves!” Ezlo
added.

“I’ll give him something to think about,”
Jayna cried out and kicked Hachi in the head.

Scar winced and pushed her off while the
assassin mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Scar asked.

“Hit him again,” Lortho shouted.

“Hold on a moment!” Scar pleaded. He lifted
Hachi’s head by his headband, which slipped off causing the
Bakunawan to eat another mouthful of dirt. “Speak!”

“I suh-I said, obviously Sulas and Gilgamesh
don’t want whatever’s in there discovered. It was all a trap, and
with the Khmerans to blame, Jagongo was likely to finally add her
forces to Satrone’s against Sahni. It’s all a game of politics.
Don’t you get it? We’re all pawns! Only I know my place!”

“A sound proposition,” N’Giwah said to Scar.
“With the Khmerans blamed for killing all of us, Gilgamesh could
certainly unify Malababwe, Balroa, and Closicus. Using them against
Usaj and reducing Nabalhi’s support all at once, Gilgamesh would be
able to secure the entire lower half of the world.”

“Now hold on,” Bosen interceded. His two
cents provided Hachi a momentary respite. “Our king isn’t after any
such thing. Gilgamesh is a good person. We ought not jump to the
conclusions of a tortured assassin.”

“He’s right,” Scar agreed. “His claim also
implies that the general ordered the death of his own son.”

N’Giwah shrugged. His mind remained
unalterable.

“That is their way,” Shamara hissed. “The way
of leaders blinded by their own machinations; a false sense of
control…Gilgamesh must be terrified by your presence and the
secrets of your people.”

She was referring to the mystery of Scar’s
origin, but her words of dissent regarding the King of Satrone sent
the Kulshedrans into another fit of anger. Scar’s mouth went agape
and his fury swelled. He had little concern over their menial
bickering.

“Not fifteen minutes ago it had been possible
that the leaders were working together to have us find the truth
and bring it to the people, now you believe the assassin?” Scar was
incredulous.

“You know I’m telling the truth,” Hachi
griped. “Just think about it. Sulas sent his son to find you, to
convince you to fight for Kulshedra, right? But what did he have
you do as soon as you met with him? He sent you here at the same
time he sent us here. You’re all supposed to be dead, and that
damned paladin–”

“Once again I’ve been lied to and
manipulated?” Scar hollered over Hachi’s assertion. “First Zoltek
and now Gilgamesh? That’s it! I have had it with these confounded
kings and their, their, their…blatant disrespect! I am not a tool!
I am not a disposable weapon!”

Hachi let out a coughing spurt of maniacal
laughter and added, “You see it now, don’t you? Without me, you are
all too stupid to work together, too stupid to consolidate your
people’s forces and drive out the evil. Your kings argue just like
you do; a bunch of spoiled children with inflated egos! We are all
tools, we are all puppets! Know your place.” He yelled into the
grass fluttering from his breaths. “Hashnora has foreseen this!
Only Bakunawa, the God of Light, can shatter the darkness of the
world!”