Read Online The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons by Aaron Dennis - Free Book Online Page B

brightened the modest room. The rich woods from
which it was comprised gave it a pleasant sepia tone in the light
of mid-morning.
    “Zmajan forces have fled to the south. The
Kulshedran who ran from battle was the same who informed the
contingent from the west. Due to his information, they made their
way to the outpost. There they found your sword and sent it along
with a detail to ensure its safety to Tironis. Your sword was to be
a gift to Gilgamesh.”
    “I must retrieve it!” Scar shouted in
alarm.
    “Calm yourself, mate,” Labolas chuckled.
“We’re making our way there by carriage ride.”
    “When?”
    “In just a few hours. The cart master arrived
to drop off supplies. We’re hitching a ride back to Tironis with
him,” Labolas explained.
    “How long will it take?”
    “Oh, two days. We’ll likely have to make some
stops along the way.”
    Scar inhaled deeply and nodded his head in
approval. Labolas scrutinized the prospective king. After a short
moment of silence, the Kulshedran spoke.
    “You look ruffled.”
    “Perhaps I am…something about that dream,”
Scar muttered. “You know, I don’t recall having slept since that
first fight.”
    “Well, no sense in worrying over dreams,”
Labolas comforted. “C’mon, Brandt, let’s get some food in our
bellies.”
    Scar nodded. They both left the coziness of
the sleeping quarter for the longhouse main room. It was desolate
compared to the formerly lively night. A young man and woman, both
Dracos, were busy cleaning up. Slits of sunlight gleamed over the
floor. Chairs were stacked on tables. Stools were upside down. A
different bar tender stood behind the counter; the man was a tall
Draco. While he organized the beverages, Labolas approached.
    “Got breakfast?”
    “Aye,” the Draco replied without turning
around. “Check the spit.”
    Labolas turned to the fire at the center of
the room. It was mostly embers. Over the coals was a large cooking
pot. The sound of bowls being placed on the counter drew the
Kulshedran’s attention. He smiled to the bar tender, took the
bowls, and helped himself to the stew while the man dusted his
hands on the white apron he wore over his buff tunic.
    “Here,” Labolas said, offering a bowl to
Scar.
    When Scar took the bowl, the main doors came
open. Three Kulshedrans walked inside, two older men and a woman.
They all wore studded leathers. Each carried a weapon. The two men
wore maces on their hips. The woman had a long sword. Their faces
immediately contorted in rage. Muscles tightened beneath bronze
skin.
    “What’s he doing here?” one of the men howled
and pointed at Scar.
    The mercenary said nothing but sipped his
stew.
    “Hold on,” Labolas intervened.
    “Shut it!” the other Kulshedran man
countered.
    Weapons were drawn and the soldiers strode
over to the center of the room.
    “Take it outside,” the bar tender admonished.
“I’ll have no bloodshed in here.”
    The soldiers ignored the warning and kept
stride.
    “I said hold it,” Labolas yelled.
    By then, the Dracos who were cleaning stopped
their work to watch the proceedings. The oldest soldier, one with
scraggly gray hair, scrutinized Labolas.
    “You’re a captain. What’s he doing here?” the
old soldier barked.
    Scar raised an eyebrow, but did no more than
continue eating. Tension forced such a silence in the room that
Scar’s slurps sounded like an army marching through mud.
    “Relax,” Labolas advised. “We’re going to
Tironis. Gilgamesh seeks an audience with–”
    “Stop it!” the Kulshedran woman interjected
with a piercing voice. Pointing her weapon with a hand trembling in
anger she continued shouting. “The ghost responsible for
slaughtering our people is right before us, and you break bread
with him?”
    “I follow our king’s orders. I suggest you do
the same,” Labolas advised maintaining an even keel.
    “Listen,” Scar started.
    “No,” the other Kulshedran man interrupted.
“You, listen. I’ll not stand