Rahaim turned to Shakar.
“The Northerner is right. Einen sometimes scares me as well.”
“Then let it be so. You, Northerner, will tell him everything that you think he has to know. That’s all for now. Wait for news from Kharad, be ready for battle, and may the Great Stars shine upon you.”
Hadjar bowed, saluted like a local, and left the stagecoach. He wasn’t escorted back, and was glad to be left alone (apart from the caravan passing by).
He needed to think everything over. As his brother had used to say, two heads were better than one.
An hour later, Hadjar returned to his section of the caravan. He carried Zurkh’s daughter on his shoulders, sang some songs, and told her two fairytales. Then her shifty father called his daughter back to their stagecoach and Einen emerged from the shadows.
They both lit up their pipes. The islander carefully listened to Hadjar’s story. He didn’t hide anything from Einen as he didn’t see any use in doing so. The frank discussion had a very positive effect on Hadjar’s mood. It was nice to freely discuss something with someone without fear of revealing any secrets. Suddenly, Hadjar realized that he practically had no secrets left. Apart, of course, from the dragon heart in his chest. This made Hadjar’s walk faster and lighter, even though he didn’t realize it yet.
“So we are swimming in a shark’s mouth, hoping that it won’t eat us,” Einen summed up.
“And blood is pouring out of us while we’re floundering desperately, as well as there being many other sharks to worry about.”
“I’d like to say, Hadjar, that I’m glad you remembered me,” the islander suddenly smiled, which made Hadjar stumble. “I prefer facing the danger, whatever it may be, to hiding in the shadows.”
“I would think that you’re the best at that.”
Einen’s smile became even wider.
“You haven’t seen what I’m really the best at, barbarian. The Great Turtle as my witness, it would be better if I didn’t have to show you. A calm sea is always better than a bloody one.”
Sometimes the islander scared even Hadjar. He looked at the sunset. The quiet weather they’d had during the past month now seemed like no more than the calm before a storm. Hadjar gripped the hilt of his simple but solid, nameless sword tightly. By the Gods, he would meet this storm with joy in his heart. If that damned library even exists, it will probably contain some scrolls about the gods. Einen wasn’t the only one smiling now. Hadjar felt like he had taken a small step toward his goal.
Chapter 271
Hadjar dodged the staff that shot toward him. It whistled past just a couple of inches from his temple. Behind him, something that looked like an inky flower bloomed from the iron-covered tip.
Einen moved the wrist of his left hand slightly and straightened his right elbow. His staff immediately turned from a lifeless piece of wood into a whip. It was as if an elephant had struck Hadjar’s back. After getting his face buried in the sand, Hadjar rolled to the side and instantly jumped back up to his feet.
“You’re quick enough for a swordsman, Northerner,” Einen rested his staff on the sand and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “But too slow for a warrior.”
Nobody had ever called Hadjar slow before. He’d always believed that speed was his strong suit.
“Really?” A mischievous smile spread across his face.
Bending his knees, Hadjar sheathed his blade. Then, quick as lightning, he unsheathed it once more, reinforcing his movements with the energy of the ‘Spring Wind’ stance.
The attack was so fast that the spectators who had gathered to watch the sparring saw only flashes of sunlight reflected on a dragon’s black scales.
Einen dragged his staff across the sand, erecting a wall of whirling sand around him. It wasn’t as dense and ‘magical’ as Shakar’s had been. The islander had just stopped his sparring partner from seeing him. When the sand sank back down, Hadjar’s blade was stuck in a conjured ape’s wide-open mouth until he pulled back.
The islander was nowhere to be seen.
Assuming a protective stance with his blade in front of him, Hadjar spun and looked around. He tried to find Einen, who was hidden in his shadows. None of his five senses could detect so much as a trace of the islander.
His eyes saw only the crimson sand, colored by the approaching dawn. His ears heard the spectators’ voices and nothing else. His skin felt the wind caress it, but there was no trace of Einen even in its whispers. Hadjar could rely only on his quick reactions and honed intuition.
Suddenly, something stabbed Hadjar’s side. Not hard enough to do damage, but it was still tangible. He swung his blade and launched a crescent of energy that crashed into one of the small dunes, but no scream or blood followed his attack.
Einen appeared out of nowhere, left a black mark on Hadjar’s shoulder, and disappeared back into the shadows. A few more black flashes, energy crescents, and bisected dunes followed, but not a single cut could be seen on Einen. He was still hiding in the shadows, and the hieroglyph ‘barbarian’ appeared on Hadjar’s body.
“Well.” Hadjar smiled even wider.
Remembering Shakar’s trick, the one he’d used to deal with his nephew, Hadjar closed his eyes. He turned toward his inner sword, looming somewhere within the dark, foreboding void of his consciousness.
He saw the shadow of the shadow of the Sword Spirit, something that Hadjar couldn’t understand or explain. It wasn’t like the world energy that he used in his stances and Techniques. It wasn’t the ‘magic’ used by the locals, or Einen, Serra, and Nehen. It wasn’t Hadjar’s ability to attack with a sword from a distance. It was something that existed purely because of his knowledge and swordsmanship.
Therefore, Hadjar didn’t know what exactly he had mastered over the years he’d spent training. Nevertheless, this lack of understanding didn’t prevented him from applying this image to his Techniques. He wanted to try out his strongest attack.
“Get ready, Einen,” Hadjar warned his opponent, wherever he was. “I don’t know how strong my next attack will be.”
He visualized the image coalescing in his hands and connected it to his nameless sword. Then, after getting closer to the surface of his consciousness, he found the emerging image of his soul which was also a mirage, a fact that indicated a practitioner was on the verge of advancing to the Awakening of the Soul Stage. Hadjar took the world energy and, using Traves’ Technique, assumed a stance.
“Spring Wind!” He also added all the knowledge he possessed about the Way of the Sword.
The spectators suddenly felt as if an army was marching nearby. They heard their drums beating, horns blaring, and someone shouting a Generals’ name.
Then the outlines of blades appeared in the air, almost invisible and barely perceptible. They whirled around Hadjar, and a dragon glided between them. He rammed his sword into the sand. A steel dome spun around him, made up of gusts of cutting wind and phantom blades. The dragon roared and the spectators’ blood boiled, as if they were a part of the invisible army. They also wanted to chant the General’s name and beat their blades against their heavy shields.
The dome expanded. Thin and transparent, it nevertheless possessed terrifying force and cutting power. It crushed the sand, cutting each grain into particles so tiny that they looked smaller than dust.
Suddenly, the dome trembled, then started to vibrate. It had already stretched out for almost fifteen feet, leaving Hadjar standing on the only safe area.
Then a black veil appeared before it. It was like black ink mixed with dusk and shadows. Einen emerged from the veil. He slammed his staff forward abruptly with a cry of ‘Boulder Storm!”
Hadjar now understood why Ilmena had given up so hastily. To an onlooker, this Technique may have looked like rocks falling into the sea, but to the person facing it... Hadjar felt as if the sky had cracked and the remnants of burning stars were raining down on him.
Unlike Ilmena, Hadjar wasn’t trapped. Einen had to break through th
e steel dome, which blocked the falling rocks and sliced them to pieces, blocking a thousand swings of the islander’s staff. Unfortunately, regardless of how many attacks the dome reflected, they only became faster and more violent.
Like with Shakar and Ilmena, a wave of energy began to emanate from the islander, a Technique or something else that Hadjar still didn’t understand. It changed the islander’s attack, wrapping the rocks in darkness and turning them into invisible, black flashes. Soon, one of these strikes simply... went through the dome without meeting even a hint of resistance.
“The true path of cultivation-” Einen began.
“Shut up, baldy,” Hadjar interrupted him.
Hadjar squeezed the hilt of his sword with both hands, and then swung it sharply, sending out a vicious attack. A gust of wind surged out from his sword, forming a titanic blade that had a dragon atop it, poised to strike.
Somewhere in the center, beyond the weakening dome, the blade and the black rocks collided. An explosion rang out, followed by a massive whirlwind of energy. The spectators crouched, and some even held their shields in front of them.
Hadjar flew nine steps back. After rolling across the sand, he tried to breathe. A black spot was spreading across his chest — the place where Einen’s attack had hit him. The blow had been weakened and slow, otherwise it would’ve pierced through Hadjar’s body and buried itself deep in the sand.
Einen lay sprawled on the sand as well, having been flung back as far as Hadjar by the backlash. A spot was now also spreading across the islander’s chest. Only this one was red. There was a shallow but long cut across his skin, under his tattered clothes, with black bruises around it.
“By the Great Stars,” a voice proclaimed, “If I didn’t already know that you were simple practitioners, I would’ve thought that I’d just witnessed a battle between true cultivators.”
Hadjar barely raised his head. Through the muddy veil of fatigue and injury still covering his sight, he discerned a figure. Soon, he could see the smiling Kharad. Apparently, the man was glad to know that his subordinates were so powerful.
“You have an hour, strangers, then we’ll be going on patrol.” Kharad turned around and left. Hadjar flopped onto his back and started breathing a little more evenly. He realized that he still didn’t know if he was stronger than the islander or not. Even if he went all out, he wouldn’t be able to say for sure that he’d defeat him.
“We’ll do this again in a month,” Einen grunted.
Hadjar nodded.
“If we survive,” he answered.
“If we survive.”
Chapter 272
“Hadjar! Hadjar!”
Hadjar finished bandaging his wounds and crawled out of his stagecoach. The girl he doted on (Hadjar still didn’t know the girl’s name) was running around nearby, waving her arms wildly. Recently, Hadjar had told her a story about the bird Rukh, which dominated the sky somewhere above the Empire’s vast territory. It was a huge falcon, capable of carrying off a whole village in its claws.
The girl had liked the story, as it had been about love, tragedy, and had had a happy ending. Now she was always playing a game she called ‘the big bird and the wind’. It was rather funny.
“Yes, my little princess?”
The girl stopped, put her hands behind her back, and smiled broadly at him. Her bright eyes and smile were contrasted by her dark skin and black hair
“Why are you so strong? Dad says he’s never seen a swordsman like you before.”
Hadjar looked at Zurkh, who was walking next to his own stagecoach. Sometimes, the man would glance over at his daughter, but without any concern. Everyone trusted the caravan guards. On top of that, the desert dwellers treated children with the utmost care. It was unlikely that even Sankesh would’ve approved of how Primus had treated his nephew.
“Has your dad met many swordsmen?” Hadjar asked carefully.
“Of course!” the girl answered proudly. “He’s met so many of them! As many...”
She struggled to find a suitable comparison.
“As many as there are stars in the night sky!”
Hadjar barely resisted the urge to grin. When would someone as ordinary as Zurkh tried to pretend he was have met so many swordsmen? A sword wasn’t the most popular type of weapon. It was difficult to train with, and not the most formidable in a battle. So where had Zurkh had the opportunity to see so many people following the Way of the Sword?
“Don’t tell dad,” the girl suddenly felt shy and pleaded in a whisper. “I’m not supposed to talk about that.”
Hadjar nodded and, still lost in thought, ran his finger over his lips, showing her that they were sealed forever. The girl’s father saw the gesture and called the girl back. “Serra! Don’t run off like that!”
“Okay, dad!” the girl shouted back. “Bye, Hadjar. Please don’t die today!”
She said it as casually as goodbye. After smiling at him one more time, she rushed off to her father. Hadjar stood there, stunned. His heart was thudding in his chest...
“Northerner,” a palm rested on his shoulder. “Your style of meditation surprises me sometimes.”
Hadjar shook his head. He’d have to get used to the fact that some names were too common in this area. Snapping out of it, he turned to Einen. “I think having our spar this morning wasn’t the best idea, islander.”
Einen only shrugged and pointed at the sky. “What should happen is sure to happen. Come on, Northerner, I don’t like to make fate wait.”
Together, they stopped following the caravan’s route and began to descend down one side of the dune. The sun was rising in the sky. It wasn’t too hot yet, so the caravan was moving forward. It would have to halt in only a few hours, when the sun reaches its zenith and it becomes difficult to move or even breathe.
Shakar had warned the new members of the scouting forces that they shouldn’t take their camels with them. They were, of course, reliable and faithful companions in the desert, but not the fastest, and speed was the most important factor when scouting in the desert.
Einen walked ahead of Hadjar. A wide shadow stretched out behind him. It covered the unsteady sand. Walking on it, Hadjar felt like he was walking across a hard surface. This didn’t fit his preconceptions about Techniques. However, no matter how much he asked the islander about it, he remained silent, the same as Serra and Nehen had.
He had only explained his silence once: “I can’t tell you about the true path of cultivation, Northerner. One wrong word from me will destroy your base and you’ll go down the wrong path. Only an experienced and wise mentor can teach you. ”
Thanks to Einen’s shadow, they descended down the dune much faster than ‘ordinary’ people did. Kharad’s team was already gathering below, all of them men and women burnt by the sun. Some of them rode Desert Ravens. The animals amazed Hadjar with their ability to peacefully eat the sand just like the desert horses did.
The others rode the 15ft lizards, observing the environment from atop them. Fortunately, there were only three such monsters, as they made Hadjar uncomfortable.
“For some reason, I’m not surprised,” Einen whispered, pointing his staff to the side. There were two more white, toothy ‘hens’ next to the lizards. Shakh and Ilmena were riding them. The young man was trying to start a conversation with the girl, who did her best to show just how bored she was of his attempts.
“Indeed,” Hadjar agreed.
Hadjar didn’t care if they were there because of Shakar or the fact that Rahaim was trying to strengthen his squad any way he could. He was much more concerned with surviving the coming years than trying to figure out the intricacies of other people’s thoughts.
“You took your time.”
Kharad didn’t look ridiculous riding on a very formidable ‘hen’. On the contrary, his short spear and shield inspired fear. It was also easy to see that his bird wasn’t a simple means of transportation, but a faithful comrade as well. The numerous scars on the bird’s power
ful beak and body spoke for themselves. Apparently, Kharad had fought the Bedouins, bandits, and other dangers of the Sea of Sand more than once. No matter how Kharad treated the foreigners, he commanded their respect with his obvious experience.
“We didn’t pick the best time to spar,” Einen replied, surprising Hadjar.
Only someone who didn’t regularly talk to the islander would’ve thought that he had made up an excuse. Hadjar understood that the bald man was mocking Kharad. The leader of the scouts had managed to get on even his bad side.
“Get on your Ravens and try to keep up. I won’t waste time discussing the plan and route again. If you live long enough to get to the gorge of the Dead Mountains with us,” Kharad looked down on them, “try to be less like yourselves and more like the warriors of the Sea of Sand blessed by the Great Stars.”
Neither Hadjar nor Einen were hurt by his words.
They nodded calmly and walked over to their Desert Ravens. The bald islander chose the one that was smaller, calmer, and had a blue scarf attached to its saddle. Hadjar got a large bird with a black scarf. While approaching the ‘hen’, Hadjar realized that this wouldn’t be easy.
“I fucking hate riding,” he whispered.
Chapter 273
Hadjar gritted his teeth, but held the reins of his ‘hen’ tightly. He’d once thought that riding horses and camels wasn’t his strong suit, but now he knew for sure: he should never ride anything else again, period.
The desert rushed past him at such speed that the dunes merged into an endless golden wave. Only the multi-colored scarves tied to their faces saved them from the flaying wind. The huge, bipedal birds could travel at a frightening speed. Instead of enjoying the landscape of the endless desert, Hadjar was trying not to fall out of the saddle and die.
Dragon Heart: Sea of Sand. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 4 Page 8