BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan (41 page)

Stormea read, “I will report this good news
of the dark gnome army to the Sultan myself—King Cheo.”

“Yes, your Highness,” Stormea replied with a
bow.

While Darius and Cheo unbuckled their seat
belts, Stormea turned around and called out, “Forces—strap on the
plows to our chariots. Once done with this task, go ahead and take
a thirty-minute break. Understood?”

“Yes, Ruling-General,” the soldiers
snapped.

“Carry on.”

Darius, in this same moment, had just taken
the reins of Cheo’s hawk as well his own.

As Cheo was one of the very few to know
exactly which “top secret” bunk wagon Baltor slept in, he entered
that wagon, closing the door behind him. True enough, Baltor was
still soundly sleeping.

About two minutes later and only a second
after the sun had set, Cheo observed the man abruptly sit up in his
bunk, just before he pulled off the hat and the visor.

Upon seeing the peculiar expression upon
Cheo’s face, Baltor’s eyes squinted slightly as he asked in the
Chao-chu-sha-maen language, “So, my friend, evident by the
expression on your face—the dark gnome army and the dragon has been
spotted?”

Cheo signed, “Yes, by Darius. He said he saw
the gnomes on the beach, but not the dragon, but neither did he
stick around.”

Baltor asked two questions, back to back,
“Where are they? Are they on the move toward us?”

Cheo signed, “About six miles to our
southeast, my friend… No, I don’t think they’re on the move, but
I’m not for sure about that answer, either.”

Just then, there was a knocking on the
door—swords out and ready for combat, Baltor called out in Pavelian
the new authentication code that begun after sunset,
“Bolinsky!”

On the other side, they heard the response,
“Ale.”

“Correct…enter,” Baltor replied as he set the
swords onto his bed and rose to his feet.

Entering one after the other was Stormea,
Yaush, Salami, and Ray. Ray closed the door behind him, before
walking over to his seat.

Once everyone was seated, Baltor’s right
eyebrow rose just before he said, “We can dispense with all the
cordialities and get down to business. I think it’s only fair to
assume that the dark gnome army has known all along where all our
divisions of forces have been located all across the map, and that
they wanted us to find them only now. Agreed?”

Cheo cocked his head from side to side one
time to indicate the affirmative, while Stormea and Ray immediately
snapped, “Yes, my Sultan!”

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...”

After 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.