The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons (42 page)

“I’ll not stand by and let Ylithia’s memory
linger a foul thing, an unavenged death,” Scar said as tears stung
his eyes.

“You’ve already killed her attackers,” Sulas
replied. “Your vengeance is complete.”

“But your king sent them, and he was under
orders of Kulshedra…and let us not forget he lied to me, like you
did, and sent me to my death at Alduheim,” Scar spewed.

The general nodded slowly. He looked to the
ground. A moment of angry silence passed.

“Father?” Labolas asked.

“Yes?”

“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.

Breaths were held. The courtyard, illuminated
by the many gas lamps throughout, was a silent battlefield.
Gilgamesh strode a few paces from Scar, and standing firmly on the
pinkish, cobbled road encompassing the fountain, he held his hands
out to the sides.

“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.