Dragon Heart: Sea of Sand. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 4

by Kirill Klevanski

  Without hesitation, Hadjar took out a flask with a healing potion from his bag. Emptying it, he brought the flask up to the fairy’s cheek. She tried to dodge away, but was held in place by the claws.

  Only two teardrops landed inside, but that was enough to make the flask flare up with a light brighter than the full moon. Hadjar hid it in his wallet, alongside his fallen friends’ bracelets. It was made from a special fabric and hid the light well.

  “How dare you collect my tears, you dirty animal! Worthless mortal! You are less important than the bowel movements of the least powerful of the Seventh Heaven’s servants! A microbe! Less than nothing! A dirty, rotten bastard!”

  Unlike the fairy that Atikus had told him about, this one didn’t exude an aura of wisdom and mystery.

  “Calm down, birdie,” the creature jerked her hand a couple of times and the fairy fell silent. “Now, why did they send you to follow this mortal?”

  “I won’t tell you anything, beast.”

  For a couple of seconds, they just stared at each other, and then the creature shrugged. He heard a sudden, nasty crunch, and the fairy’s body went limp in her grip. Gradually, her skin grew pale as marble. The fairy’s wings fluttered a few more times and froze. With an absolutely calm, even bored expression, the creature held out the fairy’s corpse to Hadjar.

  “Take it with you. Maybe someday you’ll meet someone who’ll be able to use her body. As far as I can recall, you can make Energy Stones from their bodies.”

  “Energy Stones?” Hadjar asked as he placed the little body in the wallet as well.

  The creature shrugged once again. Hadjar flinched at the gesture, remembering what the creature had done to the fairy.

  “I’m not going to teach you the simple truths, mortal,” all the playfulness and lightness evaporated from the creature’s voice. The attractive and supple girl turned into a beautiful but distant snow queen. “It’s bad enough that I revealed myself in front of an envoy of the damned Magistrate.”

  Hadjar blinked a couple of times. He finally understood what had just happened. There had been a fairy hovering behind his ear for demons only knew how long. A messenger of the gods. Living proof that Atikus hadn’t been crazy and that the Seventh Heaven really did exist. So, the ones responsible for the destruction of Hadjar’s family were real. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

  “Well, well, well,” the creature squinted. “Now I understand why she was watching you... But that’s not important right now. Let me introduce myself, mortal. I’m Ignes.”

  “Ignes,” Hadjar repeated. “Just Ignes?”

  “Just Ignes,” the creature nodded. “You’re too young, weak, and uneducated, so my name tells you nothing. My other names wouldn’t enlighten you either. So… I won’t bother listing all of them.”

  It was hard to argue with her logic.

  “Hadjar Darkhan,” Hadjar introduced himself to be polite, although she’d already known his name.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Desert Wind Blowing from the North. A beautiful name. An ancient Name. A Name you earned. Don’t waste it, little mortal. Names had power before the Gods appeared and will still have it even after they’re gone.”

  It seemed to Hadjar like one more mystery of the universe had just been revealed to him at that moment. However, like hundreds of times before, he wasn’t yet ready to comprehend its depths. He memorized it for later, when he would hopefully be ready to tackle its intricacies.

  “What are you, Ignes?” Hadjar finally dared to ask. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I am what you see before you,” a light smile touched the creature’s lips. “I’m the air you’re breathing. I’m the grass on which you stand. I’m the forest that surrounds you. I’m the pond you’re looking at.”

  The girl rippled and disappeared. Only the pond, emanating an emerald blue light, remained.

  “You look at yourself as I look at you,” a voice sounded from the pond.

  Hadjar was speaking to a demon pond!

  “What the...” Hadjar staggered to the side, almost dropping his sword.

  “That’s why,” the incredibly beautiful girl reappeared in front of him, “I assumed a form you would prefer.”

  Hadjar’s thoughts were all over the place. The only thing he understood was that there was no actual girl standing in front of him. When he looked closely, he saw she combined the features of all the women who’d ever evoked any feelings in him, from Stepha to Ilmena.

  “I brought you here to make a deal. You see, Wind, I’ve lived for so long that I’ve seen some stars get born and others die. Some would’ve grown tired of such a long life, but not me. I wish to live on.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “I’m this whole oasis. I’m the life in the midst of death. I’m Ignes. Very few can hurt me, and even fewer can kill me. But, like any other life form, I’m weaker right before I die. And my death is approaching as we speak.”

  “Death?” Hadjar asked. He was always annoyed when these entities spoke vaguely. Apparently, Ignes, whoever or whatever she was, understood that.

  “Bandits are coming here. They are fleeing from Sankesh’s army,” she said in the tone of voice someone would use when telling a small child the answer to a simple riddle. “They’ll burn Kurkhadan down, and I’ll die with it. I want you to save the oasis, all of its inhabitants, and me.”

  Hadjar blinked.

  “With all due respect, honorable Ignes, your power is enough to destroy not only the bandits, but also Sankesh’s entire army. What can I possibly do to help?”

  “Stupid mortal,” the creature sighed. Damned secrets! “Despite all those insults the fairy hurled at me, I respect the ancient laws. I can’t touch mortals, and I can’t protect my people from them. But you can.”

  “But why me?” Hadjar surprised. “Is there anyone stronger below?”

  “Of course,” Ignes nodded. “Hundreds of those who easily defeat you. Dozens of those who grind you into powder.”

  “Then why-”

  “They have no Name,” the creature interrupted him. “In spite of all their power and long life, they never earned their Names. I can’t speak to the Nameless. Don’t think that you’re all that special, Hadjar Darkhan. You’re just the only one who can speak to me and see me. And thus, the only one who can accept my gift.”

  The creature suddenly appeared next to Hadjar. Ignes ran her fingers along Hadjar’s blade. As she did so, a string of hieroglyphs seemed to appear along the steel, depicting streams of wind and a dragon dancing between them.

  “My spell will last until the morning, Wind. Then your blade will crumble. I beg you, save my people... At least the children. I liked playing with them...”

  Hadjar didn’t have time to reply. He was pushed again. The world spun around him. By the time Hadjar was once more able to tell up from down, he was already standing on the shore of the lake at the base of the inverted pyramid.

  “What the-”

  Alarm bells and the cries of panicked people drowned out his curse.

  “Bandits!” The heralds cried. “The bandits are coming!”

  Chapter 295

  Hadjar reached the city almost instantly. The celebratory atmosphere had vanished, as if the panicked cries had completely turned off all the fun and serenity.

  The oasis dwellers, after making sure their children were following or carrying the ones who couldn’t run very quickly, rushed to their houses. The women were shouting something. Hadjar was struck by a sudden remembrance.

  People who had never seen a city as it was being besieged didn’t know how loudly a woman could scream when she felt like her child was in mortal danger. Hadjar had never defended from a siege. However... he had besieged cities. Sometimes, during his darkest nights, the cries of those unfortunate people haunted him.

  Thanks to the guards’ efforts, the streams of people didn’t turn into a sea of chaos and flesh. Some fell to the pavement or lost thei
r children in the crowd. They cried and shouted until the guards or compassionate people helped them.

  Someone dropped a torch and one of the market stalls erupted into flames. As soon as the wind picked up, the flame would spread to the nearby houses. Hadjar knew from experience that it was the civilians themselves who caused a good tenth of the destruction in a siege.

  With one swing of his blade, he extinguished the flame and then froze. He raised his sword up to his face and peered at the blade. It was the same as ever: simple, solid, bought from a good blacksmith for a decent amount of coin. These kinds of blades weren’t lauded in songs or legends. They didn’t get names. This blade was just a tool.

  However, during the swing, Hadjar had felt something that he’d never experienced before. It had seemed to him like the sword itself had known what to do. As if it was eager for battle and only needed its wielder to direct it, as if Hadjar wasn’t alone on the roof of that house. There was the man and there was the sword. They were there together. Two creatures ready to fight side by side.

  “Northerner!” He heard the word after sensing light breathing behind him.

  Hadjar turned around and Einen, after stepping out of the shadows, recoiled. Opening his eyes wide, he looked at the sword in the northerner’s hands.

  “An Imperial blade,” Einen breathed out. “By the Great Turtle, Hadjar! It was just a simple, mortal weapon this morning! Not even an artifact! How... Where…?”

  “It’s a long story, buddy,” Hadjar shrugged.

  An Imperial blade... Hadjar didn’t even know what that was. However, he didn’t have time to find out.

  Einen pulled himself together with great difficulty. His eyelids drooped down again, hiding his odd eyes.

  “You’re right, Northerner. I tried to find you, but you were hidden... ”

  “That’s enough, Einen,” Hadjar said sternly. “We don’t have time for this. I’ll tell you everything after we survive.”

  The islander nodded.

  “What’s Shakar doing? Did he tell you anything?” Hadjar asked.

  “He’s near the sheikh’s palace with the other guards,” Einen squatted and leaned on his staff. His gaze was directed toward the desert. There, in the distance, the lights of the approaching bandit army were already visible. “Rahaim is still inside.”

  “Will they stay there to guard it?”

  “Probably,” Einen shrugged. “Shakar is confident that we’ll be safe. There are at least three dozen Heaven Soldiers in the city. And the sheikh, according to rumors, has recently reached the level of Spirit Knight.”

  Hundreds of those who could easily defeat you. Dozens of those who could grind you into dust with little more than a thought, Hadjar recalled Ignes’ words. Either the creature had lied to him, or the damned spirit hadn’t even been talking about people at all. Given that neither Hadjar nor anyone else had noticed the fairy watching him, then... He didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “Should we hide inside the city?”

  Hadjar and Einen looked at each other. After a moment, they smiled like predators. Neither of them had left his native land to enjoy safety and comfort.

  They were eager for battle. They wouldn’t pass up this chance, given to them by fate, to participate in a small war. The city soon grew quiet. The waiting began.

  The residents hid in their homes. The guards patrolled the streets. They sought out looters, thieves, or the bandits’ spies. The latter were already in Kurkhadan, no doubt about it.

  In the north, bandits usually numbered a hundred or, at a maximum, a thousand people per group. In the Sea of Sand, it was completely different. Here, bandit groups were practically an army, just one that didn’t have a legitimate ‘ruler’ or headquarters. There might be hundreds of thousands of them.

  Hadjar and Einen sat silently on the roof of the house nearest to the city’s protective dome. The golden dome was shining much more distinctly now. Above Ignes’ location, several large hieroglyphics rotated in the air.

  Accompanied by the steady beat of the local drums, the guards came up to the borders of the dome. They wore light chain armor, open helmets, and leather clothes. Most of them were armed with short spears.

  The archers stood at the back, while the swordsmen were in the middle of the ranks. The guards wielding hammers and long spears rode huge lizards. There were at least seventy thousand defenders.

  A huge horn sounded. As it was mounted atop the sheikh’s palace, its roar carried for many miles around.

  “Great Turtle protect us,” Einen breathed out.

  Hadjar agreed with him completely.

  From behind the nearest dune, the bandit army appeared. ‘Army’ was the only way to describe it. There were hundreds of thousands of warriors, dressed in the same clothes: red turbans, red belts, and a sheath with weapons. Each of them had a wide metal disk, a skull fastened to it with four straps, on their chest.

  The same skull that was depicted in black and gold on their red banners.

  Instead of horses, the bandits rode huge scorpions. Hundreds of the beasts stomped their legs and let out disgusting hissing noises, their chitinous shells creaking.

  The spearmen marched forward. Behind them, the battalions of archers rode lizards. On the flanks, spurred by whips, thousands of slaves pulled huge ballistae and trebuchets.

  “Thank the Evening Stars,” Hadjar sighed, “The locals don’t use gunpowder.”

  Einen only nodded. Thanks to the daytime heat and nighttime cold, cannons didn’t work here.

  “Look over there, Northerner,” Einen pointed with his staff toward the bandits’ leader.

  Hadjar looked through his telescope. With a pompous air about him, the leader was riding a huge, sixteen-legged scorpion with three stingers. But the scariest fact was that the leader was emanating the aura of a Spirit Knight! It was weak by the standards of that level of cultivation, but, damn it, he was still a Spirit Knight!

  Chapter 296

  Einen also had a telescope. He had a proper sailor’s one, like all islanders.

  “There are no less than a dozen cultivators in their ranks,” he breathed out a couple of minutes later. “A dozen Heaven Soldiers, Hadjar. Have you ever seen so many at once?”

  “Nope,” Hadjar shook his head.

  At that moment, some figures appeared on the roofs of the Kurkhadan houses. They were quite varied: tall and short, female and male, thick and slim. Some had swords, others had bows, and two people even wielded something like… lutes? Bloody lutes! There were almost thirty warriors, all of them emanating the aura of true cultivators.

  “These are our defenders,” Hadjar grinned. “Almost fifty cultivators in one battle... even if I drop dead right now, my journey wasn’t for nothing.”

  “Don’t be in a hurry to meet your ancestors, Northerner. We haven’t stained the sands with the enemy’s blood yet. ”

  There was only silence for a while. The kind that Hadjar had gotten used to during his years of war. In fact, it wasn’t silence at all. Hadjar could hear the soldiers’ prayers. Some were checking the arrows in their quivers and pulling on their bowstrings, while others were adjusting their blades or spears.

  “It’s a little unusual to see a siege without a wall,” Hadjar decided to break the silence.

  “You’re a barbarian,” Einen snorted. “I’ve heard that people in the north live in cells they build for themselves, but I never believed it until now.”

  Hadjar looked at the islander. Did people erect walls around cities only in the northern countries? Did the rest of the world use magic?

  A stately, gray-haired man stepped forward onto a roof. He held a gigantic, two-handed broadsword that could easily cut down both a horse and its rider.

  The man, apparently a local general, abruptly shouted something. Immediately, the guards formed orderly lines, doing so with practiced cohesion. The spearmen came forward and knelt, moving the tips of their weapons forward. The archers stood behind them, nocking their arrows
and angling their bows toward the sky.

  The Spirit Knight walked ahead of the other bandits.

  “Valorous defenders of Kurkhadan!” The bandit’s voice was perfectly audible for at least a dozen miles around him. “By the Evening Stars, valiant defenders, there is no need for us to shed blood! We aren’t looking for plunder in your city! We only need what your ruler has taken from us! Let him come out here and fight me! Only the two of us will bleed and, regardless of the outcome of the battle, my warriors won’t touch your city!”

  “What your ruler has taken from us…” Einen whispered. “It seems to me, Northerner, like they came here for a reason.”

  Hadjar remained silent.

  Several seconds of waiting followed. If this had happened a couple of years ago, if an enemy had approached Hadjar’s army, would he have gone out to face the enemy commander? Hadjar recalled how Dragon Tooth and Moon Leen had met their ends. Very soon, their souls would be leaving their ancestors’ homes and continuing on to the cycle of rebirth.

  “So be it,” the Knight’s voice boomed.

  The sheikh hadn’t come out of his palace.

  “It’s starting,” Einen gripped his staff tighter. His lips moved slightly, but there was no sound. The islander was praying to his ancestors and the Great Turtle.

  Hadjar silently ran his fingers along the edge of his sword. He never prayed to anyone — he didn’t know how.

  A minute later, hundreds of fiery comets arced across the night sky. Stones soaked in flammable liquid whistled over the sand, launched by the trebuchets. They flew straight toward the center of the city, aiming for the roofs of the residential buildings. Parents shielded their children with their bodies. Some of the defenders, the most inexperienced among them, involuntarily shut their eyes.

  Hadjar, trying not to miss anything, looked at the fiery flowers as they bloomed. The stones that struck the golden dome that covered the city burst into fragments. Raindrops of orange flame rolled down the dome. Once they reached the sand, they turned it into glass and lava. The defenders met the first volley with a loud ‘Assa!’ — a local battle cry.