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

by Kirill Klevanski

  “I apologize, honorable sheikh,” the shadow behind Hadjar became clearer and seemed to thicken as Einen emerged from it. “I’m afraid we have to say goodbye. May the Evening Stars always light your way.”

  Einen grabbed Hadjar by the shoulder and yanked. Instead of the wall, Hadjar fell back into... nothingness. Since then, no matter how hard Einen tried to persuade him, Hadjar never again agreed to travel through the islander’s shadows.

  Chapter 306

  Captivated by Einen’s Technique, Hadjar couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. Hanging on to his friend’s shoulder, he could only watch the kaleidoscope of gray and black-and-white pictures that the corridor of the treasury and the palace had turned into from his perspective.

  While Hadjar hadn’t been able to remember the way back through this intricate combination of turns, the islander had handled the task brilliantly. A couple of minutes later, Hadjar, leaning against an apple tree in Umar’s garden, uncaringly spilled the contents of his stomach on some beautiful flowers.

  “Never… again…” he repeated several times, dismissing Einen’s offer to help him up.

  Several guards ran out of the palace. Apparently, they’d been ordered to detain the stranger who’d violated the most sacred law of Kurkhadan. Hadjar was a bit amused by this, since he now knew why the law even existed.

  A figure, radiating waves of power, appeared on the roof of the palace. The man nocked an arrow. The green rays emanating from the arrow fell across the trees and immediately made neat, round holes in them. They cut through the ground at the foot of the palace more easily than a hot knife through butter.

  The echo from the Knight simply assuming a firing stance would be able to destroy a practitioner at the middle levels. What an incredible, implausible power! Gods and demons! What do the wars between Empires look like when they have hundreds of Knights in the ranks of their armies? I can’t even imagine what the Immortals are capable of! They are so beyond these Knights that they look at them the way a true cultivator looks at a mere mortal!

  Einen placed two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly. Making an unholy racket and roaring as they broke through the flower beds, and cracking the marble paths along the way like two ornery bulls, the two harnessed frogs they’d taken from the bandits rushed through the garden.

  The islander jumped into the saddle of his frog and held out his hand to Hadjar, intending to help him climb into the second frog’s saddle.

  “Wait,” Hadjar shook his head.

  He turned to the palace and met Umar’s gaze, which was full of zealous hatred. Apparently, the sheikh was almost five hundred years old, but still behaved like Shakar, only the scope of his jealousy was many times greater.

  Why had Hadjar stopped? Because, after a long time, cold goose bumps were running down his back. He’d felt the kind of fear that had gripped him the first time he’d been chained up in Primus’ dungeon.

  Hadjar knew that if he turned around and ran away, he would forever be afraid and think of a Spirit Knight as a creature of unattainable, godly power, someone capable of destroying him with the flick of a finger.

  The Mad General couldn’t allow that.

  Hadjar grabbed the handle of Mountain Wind with both hands. A whirlwind of steely, blue energy swept around his legs. The shadows of eager dragons could be seen within. The nearby bushes and treetops rustled, swaying due to the force of the rising wind.

  “Are you out of your mind, barbarian?” Einen shouted, moving his staff in front of him. “Your wounds-”

  The islander hadn’t even finished speaking before blood began to seep out through the bandages on Hadjar’s torso. The crimson stains marring the white bandages looked frightening and mesmerizing at the same time.

  Hadjar turned to the mysterious black sword residing within his soul. As before, using Ignes’ spell, he mentally assumed the ‘Spring Wind’ stance. Deprived of the spirit’s help, Hadjar was now probably hundreds of times weaker than he’d been during the battle. But now he knew what Master Traves’ Technique was capable of. Knowledge was a power all of its own, as it gave him self-confidence.

  “I’ll reach the Jasper Emperor himself!” The dragon in Hadjar’s eyes awoke, and his rage made small, blue sparks dance along the blade. “What is a Spirit Knight compared to the ruler of the gods? He’s just the shadow of an ant! Even if you bring the whole army of Darnassus here, I won’t run! ‘Falling Leaf!’” Despite his raging determination, which had assumed the form of a blade, Hadjar’s voice was calm.

  He summoned all the energy he’d managed to recover during his period of rest. He summoned all his knowledge of the Way of the Sword, and after the battle with the bandits, Hadjar had learned a few things. Now he not only knew, but understood more than he ever had before.

  His blood soaked through his bandages, landing on the blade. With a roar, Hadjar swung down. There was no lightning or thunder. The sky didn’t turn black and the clouds didn’t part. Lightning bolts shaped like dragons didn’t appear. Nevertheless, a ghostly, blue crescent appeared directly above Umar’s head. Standing seventy steps away from Hadjar, the sheikh didn’t even pay much attention to it. The green rays — just an echo from his stance — rose up like vines and, enveloping the crescent, broke it into a myriad of blue fragments.

  Hadjar, exhaling, barely scabbarded his sword and, with a great deal of effort, climbed up onto his frog.

  “You’re clearly out of your mind, Northerner,” Einen shook his head.

  The guards were very close to them, but they couldn’t compete with the frogs’ speed. The animals left them far behind in a couple of seconds. The streets flickered past as the houses turned into one blurry strip of gray stone. The people who were busy rebuilding Kurkhadan after the battle dodged aside when the two riders charged past them.

  Taking off his caftan, Hadjar tied himself to the saddle with it. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to stay conscious while traveling at such a frantic pace.

  Einen and Hadjar fled like thieves from the city they’d helped defend. Neither of them thought about how this was unfair. There was no justice in this world. There was only what you could do and what you couldn’t.

  Leaving Kurkhadan behind and climbing the nearest dune, Hadjar turned around despite himself. There, atop the inverted pyramid, in the artificial, but breathtakingly lifelike forest, a lonely figure stood. Her clothes fluttered like a piece of silk and velvet that had been torn from the evening sky. Hadjar turned away. This time around, it was harder for him to resist Ignes’ charm. The riders were soon over the dune, leaving the oasis behind.

  The spirit didn’t go away. She stood still, looking at the golden sea in front of her. To her, the dunes looked like waves...

  She held out her hand. Many miles away, the blood that had stained the paths in the sheikh’s garden lit up. It seemed to come to life, form drops, and slowly lift into the air. And then, the drops flew over to Ignes. She whispered something and the blood thickened and froze, assuming the form of a ruby which was then placed on Ignes’ belt.

  “I’ve seen Empires form and perish, the gods fall and then get back up.” The incredibly beautiful woman’s silhouette gradually melted away. “But I didn’t think I’d ever meet your descendant. May the abyss devour you, Black General. I hope that, even in the afterlife, your suffering is unimaginably horrific.”

  A gust of cheerful wind flew over Hadjar’s head. It seemed to be whispering something to him.

  Chapter 307

  Sitting on the sand, Hadjar watched the multicolored fireworks exploding over Kurkhadan. It was the second day after they’d repelled the bandits’ attack and the oasis was celebrating the victory.

  Even where he sat, several miles away, the smell of wine and flowers filled the air. The roads were paved with flower petals in honor of the defenders and visiting warriors. The citizens of Kurkhadan carried the wounded soldiers in their hands so they could participate. They did everything they could to honor their heroes. Girls k
issed them, women cried with joy. Children ran after the warriors, presenting them with miniature bouquets of flowers. Musicians played the most cheerful songs they knew. Giant bonfires drove away the night’s cold and gloom.

  Sometimes, the music and celebration froze. Their eyes shining with admiration and respect, the people would prostrate themselves before their sheikh. He stood on a platform that was being carried by strong slaves. Behind him marched young men and women of amazing beauty. Almost naked, clad only in transparent silks, they looked like nymphs accompanying their-

  “Are you going to keep peeping on them?” His friend asked from below.

  Hadjar swore quietly and folded his telescope. Throwing a farewell glance at the amazing oasis, he slid down the dune. He’d gotten much better at it, unlike Einen. He still preferred to just walk down.

  The islander, wrapped in a thick blanket, sat near a fire. The thrifty Einen had managed to fill his bags with dry ‘firewood’ before escaping from Kurkhadan. Since wood was valued more than gold, the desert dwellers used the bones of desert animals that had been treated and kept in a special solution. The smoke from such a fire was unusually white and odorless.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Northerner,” Einen sat with his eyes closed, but that didn’t bother Hadjar. “You know very well that we can’t leave the caravan.”

  “If not for the contract-”

  “If not for the contract,” Einen interrupted, “We would have gotten lost in the Sea faster than you can-”

  This time, Hadjar interrupted him. With a bloodthirsty grin, he pulled out a small bundle from the inner pockets of his caftan. Einen’s eyelids trembled slightly, and then his inhuman, purple eyes glittered.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  Hadjar nodded.

  “I took it from a dead Heaven Soldier during the battle,” Hadjar explained.

  He remembered how one of the bandit Spirit Knight’s powerful blows had launched the unfortunate fighter into the air, and how he’d landed near Hadjar, already dead. Any respectable traveler would’ve taken advantage of such good luck.

  “That’s looting, Northerner.”

  “No, it’s called being savvy,” Hadjar tapped his temple with a finger and hid the map once again. “The way to the Empire is almost fully laid out here. A route that goes through oases and the desert cities.”

  Einen twitched and glanced around furtively. His knuckles turned white from how tightly he was gripping his staff.

  “Don’t show that to anyone,” he whispered. “They’ll kill us just for the opportunity to look at that map, not to mention...”

  The islander didn’t finish his thought and just waved his hand wearily.

  “I don’t know if it was good or ill fortune, but the Great Turtle’s will brought us together, Northerner,” Einen sighed and relaxed. “Regardless, we still have to abide by the contract.”

  Hadjar nodded sadly.

  Mercenary contracts had almost the same power as an oath made on your blood and cultivation. You wouldn’t burn to ash from an internal fire if you violated them, instead, a pattern would appear on your forehead. Thanks to that pattern, anyone could immediately spot someone who’d gone back on their word. There was nothing worse for a practitioner or cultivator. If that happened to you, it wouldn’t matter what level you were at, how much money you had, what clan, sect, or school you were supported by. If you couldn’t keep your word, you were a nobody.

  That was why Einen and Hadjar had spent the last two days waiting for the caravan, having set up a small camp a couple of miles away from Kurkhadan. Alas, Rahaim was apparently in no hurry to leave Umar’s side, too busy discussing some important matters with him. The rest of the caravan were having fun at the celebration.

  Hadjar sneezed and wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself. The nights in the Sea of Sand were sometimes colder than winter evenings in Lidus had been. At least it didn’t snow here. To be honest, Hadjar sometimes missed the snow.

  “You wanted to learn about the Call of Blood, Northerner,” Einen suddenly said. He stirred the fire.

  “Yes, I did.” Hadjar nodded. “But I didn’t think you would ever tell me about the true path-”

  “The true path isn’t something that can be discussed by a fire,” the islander interrupted him. “I’ve already told you that I don’t have the necessary knowledge to explain it properly. Just a few wrong words could lead to not only your destruction, but mine as well. By the Great Turtle, the latter option scares me much more than the former.”

  That sounded reasonable. If attempting to clarify the true path could harm the speaker, it wasn’t surprising that Hadjar still didn’t know anything about it. No matter who Hadjar asked, the risk was probably too great.

  “As for the Call of Blood,” Einen opened his eyes wide, showing his inhuman irises. “That knowledge is available to only a select few — those who have nonhuman blood in their veins.”

  Hadjar nodded slowly. Everything fell into place. That was why Einen had decided to become friends with Hadjar and not someone else from the caravan.

  “When did you realize the truth?” Hadjar asked casually while his hand quietly moved to his belt, closer to his sword.

  “The first time I saw you,” Einen answered, and with a slight rattle, a sharp, metal spear tip popped out of the top of his staff.

  The fire crackled and a cold, hard wind blew past. It caused small sand tornadoes, making them whirl around two figures sitting on opposite sides of the fire. Blue eyes peered into purple ones.

  Shallow cuts occasionally appeared along the sand, as if someone had slashed it with a sharp blade. Small holes seemed to manifest in the sand, as if someone had stabbed it with a spear. Suddenly, everything calmed. Hadjar and Einen simultaneously reigned in their energies and moved their hands away from their weapons.

  “I don’t know why,” the islander whispered softly, “But I feel like you aren’t my enemy, Northerner.”

  Hadjar only nodded in response. He felt the same way.

  “The first time I saw you,” Einen repeated. “You, apparently, have never met other people with the Inheritance before.”

  “Inheritance?”

  “Yes, that’s the name of the blood that still lingers from distant, inhuman ancestors. I didn’t ask about your family because I’m sure that the Lidish royal family has its own secrets it would prefer to keep.”

  Hadjar tensed again, but quickly let it go. The cunning Einen had surely overheard a few... dozen conversations and had known who his companion had once been for a while now.

  “In my family, the Inheritance always manifested itself, without fail. My father, brothers, and sisters all possessed it. So, I knew how to distinguish ordinary people from Inheritors ever since I was little.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Hadjar wasn’t overjoyed about the fact that everyone he would meet in the Empire would probably be able to figure this out as well.

  “It depends,” Einen shrugged. “In my case, it’s people’s scent. You have a strange scent, Northerner: a mixture of blood, iron, and wind. Before meeting you, I didn’t know that the wind could even have a scent...”

  “You’ve never slept next to a dunghill,” Hadjar grinned, recalling his life as a freak. Einen’s lips twitched a bit, which meant he was laughing hysterically.

  “What kind of Inheritance do you have?” Hadjar asked.

  The smile disappeared from Einen’s face.

  “You’re a barbarian,” Einen said with a slight hint of rudeness in his tone. “I sometimes forget how wild your kingdoms are. On the islands or in the Empire, you’ll be challenged to a duel for such a question. Everyone considers their Inheritance to be one of their greatest secrets.”

  Hadjar nodded, agreeing with the islander. Indeed, it’s not like he had to tell every person he met what kind of blood ran through his veins.

  “But considering our circumstances…” Einen said slowly. “I have the blood of the Pearl
Trout.”

  Hadjar barely restrained himself from snorting. The Pearl Trout! Why had such a stupid name been given to a fish that could sink the entirety of Balium with a single wave of its tail? Einen stared at Hadjar expectantly. Long seconds of waiting stretched, during which a difficult decision was made.

  Chapter 308

  Hadjar looked into the other man’s purple eyes. He suddenly remembered another man, falling to his knees after being run through by a blade. Hadjar’s first and only friend had died right in front of him...

  “A dragon,” the words fell from Hadjar’s lips like the tolling of a bell. He understood perfectly that there was no going back now. He would once more be walking through this world with someone by his side. Time would tell whether this would turn out to be a good thing or not. “In my case, it’s a dragon.”

  To Hadjar’s surprise, Einen’s reaction was wildly different from what he’d expected. He simply nodded and asked: “What kind?”

  Hadjar was startled.

  “What do you mean ‘what kind’?”

  Einen tilted his head to one side and then sighed wearily.

  “Don’t tell me, Northerner, that you don’t even know how to tell dragons apart?”

  “I know,” an almost boyish resentment could be heard in Hadjar’s voice. “I’m not talking about Earth Dragons, Swamp Dragons, Sand Dragons, and so on, but about one of the Lords of the Heavens.”

  Einen took a deep breath and shook his head.

  “I’m also talking about those,” he said, adjusting the ‘wood’ in the fire. “There are many kinds of Lords of the Heavens, Hadjar. Legend says that somewhere out there, very far away, in the West Mountains, lays Dragon City, a forbidden kingdom of the Lords. So many of them live there that if they all assumed their true appearance, they’d cover the sky for many miles around.”

  Hadjar blinked a couple of times. Now it was his turn to sigh tiredly. What did the phrase ‘very far away’ mean in local legends? It meant that a mere mortal had to spend several hundred lifetimes to get there. Usually, such a legend also mentioned boats that could sail across the sky or flying beasts that true cultivators rode like simple practitioners rode horses. Sometimes, there was even mention of Flight Techniques. However, Hadjar had recently found out that the tales about Heaven Soldiers being able to fly and command the elements at their discretion had indeed been just that, mere tales. There was a fraction of the truth in such stories, but only a fraction.