Bulls On Parade

[Connor Kent]

Achilles, son of Priam


Achilles looked at Tammuz with a challenging smirk. "It's you this time,"
he said to his friend, as he held his mug in his hand. The pretty silver haired bar maid stood next to him with the skin ready to refill. The girl next to Tammuz, out of place raven dark hair, had the same. Their eyes constantly flicked to the small pile of silver on the table. Whoever won would give a share to his girl.

The sounds of dicing and raucous laughter filled the tavern, though a few were betting on their own game. In the foreign accents of these northern lands, the one girl counted "One. Two. Three. GO!" Immediately, Achilles began.

"One.


Tammuz immediately threw out "Two."


"Three!"


On up the numbers they raced, as fast as possible. They were getting close to 21. Wait. Who was gonna be the one to avoid saying it? This was already their third game and his head was a bit foggy from the mead and whatever else these people had fortified it with. Him. It was him.

"20!"
Tammuz yelled.

"20!"
he repeated just as quickly.

Tammuz heard the number and immediately responded "21!!!"
instead of 19, like he should have. Laughter erupted from them both and Achilles thankfully put his mug down and then watched as the girl filled Tammuz's to the brim and then him down it all as fast as possible. When he was finished, he burped long and loud and the whole tavern exploded with laughter. They didn't often get visitors from the south, but Achilles and his friends had been liberal with their coin and the buying of drinks. Drinking was the great equalizer.

Enki had said it best. Men need alcohol. It's the first thing every civilization makes along with weapons and shelters to enjoy prostitutes. Course that was a joke. But that was Enki. Always with the jokes.

Anyway, Tammuz's eyes swam. If Achilles had had three, Tammuz was up by almost double that. He was having fun. Prometheus and Coyote should be returning soon. He eyed the blued eyed beauty next to Tammuz- curse the man for a face that was almost as pretty as a girl's- as she commiserated with him over his loss. Her loss. This had been the final round. Just because she liked him didn't also mean she wasn't working him. Women could do both.

Achilles smiled and sat up to scoop the winnings towards him. He split off a few for another round for everyone, and then a few for the girl next to him, to whom he winked. "You're my luck now. Don't run off on me.'
She laughed and tapped his nose. He sat back into the chair thinking as Tammuz settled his girl. She wouldn't be disappointed long. His head was warm despite the chill of these lands. He might stay, one of these days. Might but probably wouldn't. Home called to him. The war. The War that was his life. The tattoo of the Iasan's tooth- the Dragon's tooth- was visible on his forearm. A remembrance. His father had given it to him. His father.

He would be going home. He would see his mother. But it was time to bring the war to the Gods.

The door to the tavern opened, the cold gust of wind sweeping into the room, causing the flames to flicker. He looked up, hoping it was Coyote and Prometheus. That they had succeeded.