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

by Kirill Klevanski

  His purple eyes flashed as Einen nodded.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like that before, Northerner,” the islander whispered. “By the Great Turtle, it was unimaginably odd and potent. I would’ve never guessed that a group of strong practitioners can be so easily deprived of their power.”

  Hadjar recalled a special poison that had been applied to the inner spikes of his slave collar. Apparently, Einen remembered the same thing, because for the next fifteen minutes, they walked in silence.

  After finishing their meal, they wiped their bowls clean with sand and rags and then put them back into the light bags on their shoulders. All of the guards had these bags. They kept a day’s supply of water and provisions in them. Just in case.

  “On the other hand, now we know exactly what Rahaim and his company have been hiding from us,” Hadjar said with a sigh. He always tried to find a silver lining in any situation.

  “Do you really think so, Northerner?” Einen asked in his native language. “If Rahaim is really hunting for the elixir, then why did he tell everyone about it and reveal he had the poison? I’m sure he knew perfectly well that you’d encountered the poison before.”

  Hadjar couldn’t argue with that. Rahaim knew about the past of all his guards, and the bards had even sung about how the Mad General had rescued his friend Nero.

  “What did the old man do for so many days in Kurkhadan?” Einen continued. “I’ve carefully studied your map, Hadjar. We could’ve saved almost a month if we’d gone to another oasis instead of Kurkhadan.”

  “Maybe they have no standing arrangements with that closer oasis.”

  “On the contrary,” Einen shook his head. “Kurkhadan was the one they made a deal with at the very last moment.”

  Hadjar looked at the islander. Realization struck him like a hammer...

  “Kharad. He didn’t ride ahead to talk to the Bedouins, but to a messenger from Umar... Otherwise, we wouldn’t have found him and the leader of the Bedouin tribe in the midst of bargaining. They would’ve had enough time to conclude their talks before we arrived.”

  “Exactly. We were dealing with the small fry while he solved all the issues with the sheikh.”

  Hadjar sighed wearily and rubbed his nose. How easy war was compared to this. He knew his enemy in a war and what he wanted — to kill them. He could usually come up with a way to outmaneuver his opponents with honor and dignity... if it was possible. If not, he’d use arrogance and cunning.

  Here, in the seemingly dead Sea of Sand, venomous snakes crawled over him constantly, and he wondered when they would poison him. Smiling like a drunken maniac, he had to happily keep piling more and more snakes on himself.

  Ahead of them, Ilmena was arguing heatedly with Shakh about something. It was amazing just how true the principle of ‘the less you love a woman, the more she likes you’ worked here. As soon as the boy had stopped chasing the warrior, they’d swapped roles. Of course, Ilmena hadn’t instantly fallen in love with Shakh, but now she wasn’t ignoring him anymore, preferring to argue and spar with him instead. No one tried to intervene, they could figure it out for themselves. The only important thing was that their relationship wasn’t interfering with their work.

  “Do you think that the security guard whose place she took was really injured in an ‘accident’?”

  Einen didn’t respond. He most likely didn’t really want to look for the answer, and neither did Hadjar. If everything that had happened had been planned in advance, that would mean they weren’t just covering themselves in venomous snakes, but they were also standing waist deep in quicksand as they did so. Only a miracle could save them in that case.

  “I really want a good fight right about now,” Hadjar sighed. “Some bandits, at least a few dozen of them, ideally.”

  “Do you want to take out your anger on them?”

  “My helplessness, to be completely honest.”

  They heard feathers rustling and an unpleasant snort. Hadjar didn’t need to turn around to know it was Kharad. His Desert Raven always snorted in a special way that was as unpleasant as its owner’s own snorts.

  “Dreams do indeed come true, barbarian,” Kharad sneered. “We’ve spotted a group of bandits, about three days’ journey to the southeast. There are about three thousand of them, maybe a little more. They’re moving toward us.”

  “What do Rahaim and Shakar have to say about them?” Hadjar immediately perked up, completely ignoring the head scout’s tone and facial expression.

  “They don’t want to change course. They say it’s time to drench the caravan in blood. At dawn, we’ll set up camp. You and Einen will be responsible for the left flank of our defenses.”

  After relaying this information, Kharad tugged at the reins of his beast, turned it around, and sped off to bring the news to the rest of the guards.

  “I don’t know, Northerner,” the islander’s purple eyes flashed, “if I should thank you for your prediction or challenge you to a duel.”

  “Save your strength for the bandits.”

  “That is, indeed, the wise thing to do,” Einen sighed.

  Chapter 323

  The next day began oddly, somehow. After the passengers had been informed that bandits were approaching, Hadjar had expected them to panic or at least become anxious, accompanied by crying children and noncombatants, while everyone else would be eager to take up arms. But… Nothing happened. The people received the news with the serenity of a lazy tiger that had just been told that hunters had entered its forest. The tiger knew that there was still a lot of time before the hunt began and just kept resting calmly. The passengers of the caravan, after the siege at Kurkhadan, were just glad they’d had a few days to rest up. They didn’t care that this could turn into an extra month on the road.

  All around the stagecoaches and carts, the people joked and laughed. The children scurried around the adults. They often made things worse more than they helped, but were so eager to make their own, albeit small, contribution to the common cause that no one had the heart to turn them away.

  The older children removed springs from the wheels. The men then took off the wheels and stored them inside the stagecoaches lined up around a camp fortification. They didn’t form a circle, but rather a triangle of sorts. The huge lizards were being held behind these makeshift walls, and archers climbed into their saddles, checking the visibility from these living towers.

  Kharad, along with his people, rushed around the caravan. They’d made a trap in the sand and then laid out some artifacts and other tools unknown to Hadjar.

  In general, life in the caravan continued in full swing. The boys and girls had fun. They carried bags filled with sand on their shoulders and stacked them on the outside of the perimeter.

  No matter how the battle ended, no one wanted to spend too much time afterward repairing things. Although the stagecoaches and carts were being used as fortifications, they were still cherished.

  Among the caravaneers that answered to Rahaim, there was even a designated person who was responsible for erecting fortifications. He was a short man, middle-aged and at a middling stage of cultivation. Nevertheless, he handled his duties quite aptly.

  Under his strict but patient leadership, by the end of the second day, the caravan had turned into a decent fortification. It was made of wood and covered with sandbags, even frail and plagued by some engineering errors, admittedly. But it was still an impressive fortification, all things considered... Hadjar was definitely impressed, anyway.

  He also took part in the transformation of the caravan: he dragged boards around, drove stakes into the sand, and even helped hide barrels of water and boxes of provisions. They were hidden in a hole, under awnings and hastily erected covers. They had to stay safe, as any damage to them could cost the caravaneers their lives.

  Now, along with Shakar and Kharad, Hadjar stood near a small map drawn directly on the sand.

  “What does Sular report?” The chief of security asked, nodding towar
d the warrior who commanded a falcon.

  That morning, the bird had left Sular’s forearm. It had then spent several hours soaring across the azure sky. When it returned, it was evident that several arrows had hit it. Sular rarely spoke to anyone besides Kharad and his feathered friend. Hadjar sometimes thought that the man and the bird were one entity.

  “They have three thousand warriors on Desert Ravens,” Kharad drew arrows on the sand as he spoke. They denoted the bandits’ movements. The people listening to him wrapped their rugs and blankets tighter around themselves. A cold, west wind was blowing through, and the sun had already disappeared behind the dunes, plunging the Sea of Sand into dusk. “And about two hundred horsemen.”

  “Horsemen?” Einen asked. “Are there actual horses in the desert? Or are you talking about-”

  “No,” Kharad interrupted him. “They don’t have desert horses. We would certainly lose if they did.”

  A desert horse was a monster with six or eight legs. It was faster than the wind and could easily jump over a wall twice as high as the one the caravaneers had built. Two hundred riders mounted on such beasts could easily burst inside, and then the battle would be lost. Not for the guards, who would be able to fend them off, but for the ordinary travelers. They would be little more than a bloody mess in just a few moments. They surely hadn’t paid good money for such a terrible death.

  “But what are ordinary horses-”

  “I don’t care about that, Einen,” Shakar interrupted the islander. “First, we’ll send them to their forefathers’ homes, and then we can find out where they got the damned horses.”

  Hadjar glanced at Einen to signal that this wasn’t the best time to try and unravel the tangle of the snakes’ intrigue. It was no coincidence that the bandits had found them so quickly after Kurkhadan. They’d chased after them as if they’d known where they were headed and why. Rahaim surely hadn’t left his former disciple empty-handed...

  “If we do everything right, we’ll get by without many losses,” the chief of security continued. “Danah, your archers will occupy our ‘towers’. You know what to do — aim for their ravens’ legs, create a mess among the attackers, and let them trample their own comrades.”

  A tall, skinny young man nodded at Shakar’s words, and Hadjar stared at his thick and curly, black beard. He’d always wanted to grow one himself, but, alas...

  “Zharkhin.” She was one of the few women in a leadership position in the caravan. She was definitely both strong and charming. “You’ll control the eastern flank. Try to hold it. That is probably where the main attack will be concentrated.”

  Their camp had been set up in such a way that the nearest dune was to the east of them. On the one hand, the riders would have an advantage — they would come in with the sun at their backs. On the other hand, their own blades would blind their comrades who attacked the western flank. In a war, it was always like this — you had to sacrifice something to gain an advantage elsewhere.

  “Hadjar and Einen, your flank is the western one,” Shakar began to draw a simple plan. “The archers will support you. Try to divide their forces into several smaller ones as quickly as possible. Kharad’s squad will then be able to easily flank each of their fractured attack groups. Once they do so, you will make your way to the rear, turn around, and strike the eastern flank.”

  Hadjar listened and nodded. In principle, the plan wasn’t bad. Of course, he would have done things differently, due to being the Mad General who was used to fighting on a hard surface against a standard army. He had no idea how battles should be conducted atop sand, against a smaller number of opponents. Especially if all of them were riders. He’d have to put his faith in Shakar’s experience.

  “Does everyone understand their assignments?”

  The guards nodded. An inconsistent hum made by sporadic cheers followed.

  “Then rest up. Tomorrow will be a hard day.”

  With a wave of his hand, Shakar erased the plan from the surface of the sand and, straightening up, called Shakh over. The boy and Ilmena hadn’t been allowed to attend the council, which had greatly hurt their feelings. They’d envisioned themselves as fully-fledged ‘leaders’ already. Their disappointment had been tremendous when they’d realized they were still a long way from that.

  Einen and Hadjar retreated to their flank, which consisted of a dozen carts and stagecoaches, hundreds of sandbags, and one tower. Their responsibility wasn’t that great if one ignored the fact that there were hundreds of defenseless travelers behind them. Hadjar took his pipe out of his pocket and started smoking.

  “I still don’t like what’s happening, Northerner.”

  Hadjar smiled and exhaled a ring of smoke. Nero’s rings had been much better, but he was now okay, thanks to practice.

  “You know, Einen, these discussions of ours are becoming as commonplace as conversations about the weather.”

  “What do you suggest we do, then?”

  Hadjar looked at the distant stars. Their cold light rained down on their shoulders, washing away all of the fatigue they’d accumulated during the daytime.

  “We take the situation very seriously. Maybe we can’t escape, but we can definitely try to stir up this nest of snakes.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting bitten?”

  Hadjar’s blue eyes flashed with an inhuman brilliance, echoed a second later by Einen’s purple ones.

  Chapter 324

  The morning began with the sound of loud trumpeting. Shakar was blowing into the twisted horn with all the power his lungs could muster. He’d raised the alarm. The bandits were here.

  Parents hastily hid their children away in pre-prepared shelters in the center of the fortification. Hidden behind empty crates and covered with thick cloth and mats, the children huddled together. The bolder among them tried to find at least some kind of gap in the defenses to observe the battle through. Most, however, clung to the others and shut their eyes so tightly that their brows almost touched their cheeks.

  The women... Well, if you haven’t seen a woman born amongst the sun and sand whose child was about to be attacked, you don’t know what true fear is. Hadjar tried not to look at the women’s faces as they clutched their clubs, stakes, and homemade bows. He’d used to believe that Serra was frightening when angered. The witch hadn’t been nearly as scary as these women right now.

  The men had wanted to help the guards directly, but the fighters had refused. They’d been hired by Rahaim to protect the caravan, and they weren’t about to accept help from the very people they were supposed to protect.

  In short order, everyone assumed their posts. A few of the people on the ‘towers’ were checking if their arrows were secure in their quivers. The ones on the ‘parapets’, hidden behind the makeshift wall, were sharpening their swords and checking their armor. Nobody wanted to fight outside the perimeter. They were hoping to use their hastily erected defenses throughout the battle.

  “It seems to me like our plan hasn’t garnered much support,” Einen said.

  The islander had changed out of his caftan and into the military outfit of his people. In Kurkhadan, due to how sudden the attack had been, he hadn’t had time to do so. Now he was standing in a robe that mostly resembled the white bandages on a mummy. Wrapped in it from head to toe, Einen had left only a small gap for his eyes and nose. Because of the fabric, his voice was a bit muffled and sounded strange.

  Hadjar also hadn’t elected to fight in his caftan and trousers. He had put on his old, shabby leather trousers, his simple canvas shirt, and his vest that had metal plates in the lining. The nearby guards looked at his outfit with great envy. Metal was a rare and precious material in the Sea of Sand.

  “I don’t care,” Hadjar responded dismissively, bandaging his palms. Due to all the sand and heat, he wasn’t sure that he could hold his blade for long with just his bare hands. “There’s no enjoyment in just staying behind the walls!”

  Einen’s bloodthirsty, animalistic grin and the p
redatory gleam in his purple eyes was just the answer Hadjar had expected.

  Out of all the guards, with the exception of Kharad’s squad, only Hadjar and Einen had chosen to meet the enemy’s charge outside the fortification. Like two heroes from legend, they greeted the bloody dawn side by side, ready and eager.

  A black dot glided across the sky, piercing the air with a sharp cry. Hundreds of gray lines followed it. They whistled through the crimson sky and fell, digging into the crests of the sand waves.

  Kicking up great plumes of sand, their swords drawn, the riders charged toward them. As Shakar had predicted, the main group was coming at them from the east. There, practically flying over the dune, they had the sun at their backs, which greatly hindered the defenders.

  However, the chief of security hadn’t expected for the horsemen to go west, followed by about seven hundred of the Desert Ravens. There wasn’t a drop of fear in Hadjar’s blue eyes. They were just furious, hungry for blood, and emanating raw desire for battle. Hadjar looked like a hungry cat ready to pounce on some idiotic, suicidal mice.

  Shakar sounded the horn twice in rapid succession. The archers, upon hearing the signal, began to shoot arrows at the enemy, one by one. As they’d been instructed, they aimed not at the riders, but at their mounts. When they fell, it created a mess, and as a result, several bandits would fall to the sand as a result of just one well-aimed arrow.

  Nevertheless, most of them broke through to the fortification. They covered the golden dunes like a dark blanket. Behind them, a dust cloud surged up, toward the sky. Hadjar and Einen realized that the strangest bandits they’d ever seen were charging them. Covering the bodies of their strong horses, light plates of iron armor glittered in the light of the dawn sun. In their hands, the riders dressed in black clothes held sabers, small shields, and spears. Despite the fact that they differed little from the rest, they were still different enough to arouse suspicion...

  Unfortunately, there was no time to really think about what was happening.