“Angels acting as messengers for the God of War,” Hadjar smiled. “There’s something profound there...”
“Maybe Harune, then? The God of Blacksmithing?”
“Why the God of Blacksmithing?”
Anise smiled that strange smile that only women could use. The kind of smile that drove men crazy, making them imagine things that didn’t exist.
Without waiting for an answer, Hadjar added:
“Their particular god isn’t one of many, he is basically the only one. He just has… many faces.”
She took her bow and nocked an arrow, carefully propping it up with her forefinger. She pulled back the string and closed her left eye. Hadjar imagined how beautiful she would’ve looked with her pretty freckles if it had been daytime. The arrow, shot without a drop of energy being expended, sang through the air. There was a short squeak and a small hare was pinned to a tree.
Anise pulled a small knife from its sheath, walked over to her prey, and ended the suffering of the beast. Along the way, she said a prayer in a language Hadjar didn’t recognize. This surprised him, as there were few languages and dialects in the world that he hadn’t heard over the years he’d spent travelling.
“It’s the language of my ancestors,” Anise explained, wiping her knife and arrow on the grass. “Once upon a time, we came from a very distant land where giants lived. We couldn’t survive there, and so we moved eastward until we arrived here. Along with six other families, we helped the Royal family of a small state in their war... then in the next, and then in the one that followed after that.”
Hadjar realized that he was being told a story so ancient that he would probably not find any records of it in the library of the Treasure Tower, or anywhere else, for that matter. It was unlikely that the Imperial family wanted someone to remember their humble beginnings. There were a myriad of legends that claimed they were descended from phoenixes, dragons, winged tigers, or some other noble creatures, but in fact, they were simple humans.
“Sometimes, I think that…” Anise said, turning to the west, “my ancestral land is calling to me. That somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, is my real homeland, and it’s waiting for me. Whenever that feeling overcomes me, I always want to set off on a journey and…”
Suddenly, Anise stopped and rose to her feet. Her face hardened, and her gaze turned from warm emerald to cold stone.
“I’m sorry, ordinary disciple, on nights like this, even a cultivator’s mind can wander.”
Carrying the hare over her shoulder, she turned and started walking toward the camp and the tent of her Lord and brother. Hadjar still didn’t understand how that was possible. He watched her go. At the very edge of the clearing, she stopped and, without turning around, said:
“If the god the angels serve is really alone, then he must be very lonely.”
Hadjar nodded and replied:
“That’s why he created the devil. To fight his loneliness.”
Anise stood there for a while and then finally left.
Hadjar continued to stare at the stars. These kinds of nights could really befuddle the minds of cultivators, who felt the world on a much more profound level than mortals. A minute later, Einen came out of the same darkness.
“I’ve never heard that story before,” he said, standing next to his friend.
“I just remembered it a few minutes ago,” Hadjar shrugged. “I had to get rid of her somehow. Did you check everything?”
The islander nodded and waved his hand. Following his gesture, magic runes carved into the trees flashed along the edge of the clearing. Einen hadn’t wasted any time in Underworld City and had managed to become skilled in the true path of cultivation. “The barrier will last until dawn. The night is my time.”
Thick threads of shadow stretched out from the runes. They intertwined around the edge of the forest, creating an impenetrable dome of darkness. From the inside, the stars were still shining in the sky, but for anyone looking at it from the outside, it looked like an impenetrable forest.
“Now we just have to wait-”
“Well, they usually say that the night is my time,” a whisper seemed to come from everywhere.
Their guest hadn’t made them wait long. He was here. Helmer, the Lord of Nightmares, had come to this world.
Chapter 463
Helmer looked the same as the last time they’d met. He walked calmly and slowly along the edge of the forest. His feet didn’t touch the grass, and he looked like he was floating above it. An acrid, gray fog followed after him. The hem of his ragged cloak dangled. Predatory visages and bright, scarlet eyes peered out from it. One of the hidden monsters held a small oil lamp. Its dim light lit up the hundreds of thousands of small shapes running around at the demon’s feet. Hadjar, who was much stronger than when they’d first met, was now able to see what these creatures were.
Helmer’s ‘Lord of Nightmares’ title was fully justified. Each of those shapes was someone’s fear. Every one of them was so concentrated and filled with an eerie power that it could manifest in the physical world and follow its master around. Hadjar was certain that, if Helmer so wished it, his army of nightmares could destroy Dahanatan. This monster, whose face was half-hidden by a simple, wide-brimmed hat, had power far greater than the Immortal Hadjar had encountered in the Sea of Sand.
“I seem to recall you having more hair last time,” Helmer said, and sat down in front of Hadjar, clutching an orange sphere that was exuding power. Just like that, he sat on the air, and it held him like a good chair would. “And your eyes weren’t nearly closed. And you didn’t smell like fish so badly. By the gods, I don’t understand what’s happened to your friend, North Wind! I saw the two of you not so long ago.”
Hadjar didn’t know whether Helmer was deliberately trying to look like an idiot, or if he really couldn’t distinguish Nero from Einen. When he thought about it, the latter scenario was much more likely.
The demon had lived in this world for so long that, from his perspective, ten years passed as quickly as ten minutes passed from Hadjar’s point of view.
“This is Einen, from the Islands,” Hadjar introduced them to each other. “This is Helmer, the Lord of Nightmares and the Emissary of the Demon Emperor.”
“He prefers to be called the Prince of Demons,” Helmer corrected. “So, your previous friend didn’t live long enough to see me again? Well, that happens sometimes. As they say, everything bends to the will of the Heavenly Magistrate. Although, for a bit of coin, they’re always ready to extend or shorten someone’s life. However, I’ll admit that I like this one better. He’s silent, isn’t foul-mouthed, and he has curious eyes. How do you like my appearance, fisherman?”
Hadjar looked at Einen for the first time since Helmer had appeared. At first, he’d thought that his friend was being silent because he was trying to understand what was happening, but it turned out... that his fearless friend was actually scared stiff. Large droplets of sweat rolled down his face, and his shirt clung to his body. Damn it, what was he seeing right now?
“Okay, okay.” Helmer waved his hands. “I’ll put on my clothes. I know what decency means.”
Hadjar had no idea what the demon did just then, but Einen let out a sigh of relief and settled into a more relaxed position
“You were less talkative last time as well.” Hadjar teased, but he knew that the creature wouldn’t do anything to him for being a bit rude.
“Oh, yes, I didn’t have time to apologize back then,” Helmer said, doffing an imaginary hat despite wearing a real one. “Last time, circumstances forced me to hurry. I wasn’t in the best of moods, either. It isn’t very pleasant when a pathetic bag of bones and meat steals a very precious possession of yours.”
Suddenly, Helmer had a toothpick in his hand. It wasn’t made of a baby’s bones, but of wood. However, there was so much power contained within it that Anise’s sword couldn’t even compare.
“This is my favorite toothpick.” Helmer toyed with it. “Dur
ing the war, I plucked it from a Tree of Life. A very old Tree of Life.”
The demon emphasized the last sentence with a grin and continued to fiddle with the toothpick. In fairness, this artifact couldn’t really be called a simple ‘toothpick’ any longer.
“But I’m more interested,” the demon continued, “In finding out why you waited for me so casually, North Wind. Is Helmer only good for scaring children at bedtime these days?”
As he asked this, the hem of the demon’s cloak moved and bristled with bloody fangs. Hadjar had no idea if it was part of the demon’s body or a monstrous artifact because he couldn’t break through Helmer’s aura to examine his energy.
“I want to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?” The demon almost jumped for joy. “Oh, I love deals. But you already know that, or you wouldn’t have offered it.”
Einen, emboldened enough to move, put a warning hand on his friend’s shoulder. Helmer gazed at him. This time, the islander wasn’t afraid, and only tightened his grip further.
“Dealing with demons doesn’t lead to anything good,” he croaked. “I’ve seen his true nature, my friend. He only pretends to be human. This... this monster isn’t from our world.”
“I am from our world.” Helmer protested. “I definitely am. I was here before your ancestors’ ancestors emerged from the World River.” Einen’s assertion seemed to sting Helmer for a moment, but then he immediately went back to his relaxed, slightly mocking manner. “Besides, dealing with the gods doesn’t do you any good either. They aren’t used to keeping their word, you know. But you are still, for some reason, constantly in a hurry to go to bed with them. Both figuratively and literally. There are so many demigods roaming the world that you would be surprised at their number. Of course, we certainly try to correct this injustice, and the Lord’s policy lets us do just that. You know, for each demigod born, we get a free afternoon snack. And for every god — a double portion for dinner. What a wonderful life we have!”
Helmer, while laughing at his own joke (if it even was a joke, that is), grabbed a jug of wine out of thin air. It was corked with a simple wax seal. The hem of his living cloak pulled the seal off with a predatory, fanged mouth, and the demon drained the contents in one gulp. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he slammed the jug against a tree.
“I never liked it.” He said, watching the clay shards disappear into the haze he’d called forth. “So, what deal are you offering me, North Wind?”
Hadjar took the piece of red stone wrapped in cloth out of his pocket. It was much smaller than the one Helmer had come to Lidus for, but the price Hadjar asked for it wasn’t high.
“In exchange for this,” he said, placing the strange stone on the ground, “you’ll tell me everything you know about this.” With a slight effort of will, Hadjar summoned the Black Blade to his hand.
Helmer looked at the sword and his shining, yellow eyes peeked out from beneath his hat.
“Tell me, North Wind, why shouldn’t I kill you on the spot? That way, I’ll get the stone and destroy a descendant of the Enemy. You know, if I do that, I’ll probably get not just a double portion, but an entire feast for dinner.”
“Because we’ve met before, demon. I refuse to believe that you didn’t know whose blood I had coursing through my veins back then, too. And if you didn’t kill me then, you won’t do so now.”
For a moment, the demon’s yellow eyes seemed to peer into Hadjar’s very soul. Then the monster laughed again.
“You remind me of him, kid.”
“Did you know the Black General?” Hadjar was so surprised his sword dematerialized as he lost his grip on its manifestation.
“That’s what the gods called him.” Helmer said. “We had a different name for him. We called your ancestor ‘The One who Brought the North Wind with Him’. We called him Darkhan.”
Hadjar heard a sharp, ear-splitting raven’s cry.
Chapter 464
“It all happened a long time ago,” Helmer began his story. “So long ago, in fact, that not even the stars, the water, or the wind remember it. Back in those days, I was young, and he, Darkhan, the first of his Name, was already an old man, in the truest sense of the word. When he passed through the Demon Gates and entered the Night Lands, he looked like a dried-up old man.”
Hadjar listened intently to the story of someone who remembered a time when the seas to the northeast of Darnassus didn’t exist. And these seas, Einen’s homeland, were considered to be the oldest of the territories for many millions of miles around.
The demon grabbed another jug of wine out of thin air and drank it.
“We greeted him the same way we normally greet all mortals…”
“You tried to kill him.” Hadjar nodded.
“Of course,” Helmer spread his arms. “We are, after all, a very private community. We don’t like guests very much.”
“But you like the desperate ones,” Einen growled.
Had the islander also met the ‘descendants of Chaos’, as they were called in the oldest tales, before today? Helmer looked at the bald man mockingly, his golden eyes gleaming, but ignored his remark.
“Why did he come to you?” Hadjar looked like a starving dog clinging to a piece of meat. By the High Heavens, he wasn’t going to let this go! “The Black Gen... Darkhan was a god, if I’m not mistaken. You and they are sworn enemies.”
“Enemies?” Helmer snorted. “‘Enemies’ is too kind a word to describe our relationship. If you want, you can ask your little tagalong about it.”
The demon pointed behind Hadjar. He turned and saw the little lumps of horror and fear that followed their master everywhere tearing a fairy apart. Her tiny form had been savaged, and the grass was covered in her shimmering, silver blood.
“Well, now you can’t ask her anything.” Helmer sighed, and waved his hand vaguely in the air. “I’ve been trying to teach them manners for millions of years, but it’s no use. They’re a bunch of naughty, misbehaving assholes!”
After they heard Helmer’s cry, the nightmares began to run around with a squeak, trying to hide. The disfigured body of a once-beautiful fairy lay in the grass, twitching.
“We’ll have to make do without her opinion,” Helmer said. “To answer your question, Darkhan was never a god. He was a very old, very powerful, ancient spirit. The gods granted him power comparable to their own, but no more. However, for humans like you, there is no real difference in their powers.”
Hadjar couldn’t understand everything Helmer was saying, but it was more knowledge than he could’ve gotten from all the libraries of Darnassus combined.
“So, beaten and disgraced, he crawled his way into the Night Lands. Honestly, we didn’t consider him to be anyone of note at first. In order for us to learn just how important he was, millions of my relatives paid with their lives. Who could’ve predicted that the old man could wield a sword so well?”
“Wait... did you say disgraced?”
“Yeah.” Helmer nodded. “Something happened in the Jasper Palace. I don’t know what, but Derger and his loyal dog and right hand, the Black General, fought so hard that the Heavens shook. Many peoples disappeared in the cataclysms that their duel caused in this world.”
Hadjar didn’t voice the question that was on the tip of his tongue: ‘What could such beings as the God of War and his most loyal and powerful General find to be valuable enough to fight over?’
“Darkhan wounded Derger severely. Well, the god immediately cried for his daddy, as bullies often do. The Jasper Emperor, of course, didn’t appear in the flesh, but sent out one of his Emissaries, who explained to Darkhan just how deeply he was mistaken. At the same time, he sent some people to their forefathers. They also had a city that was quite amusing — it flew through the sky.”
Hadjar frowned. This was strange. If Helmer was talking about the Mage City, then the vision that Hadjar had been given by the Shadow of the last mage didn’t mesh with this story. The creature in gold that had alm
ost destroyed the Black General had clearly been burning with a desire for revenge, something a simple Emissary, an instrument of retribution, couldn’t possibly have felt.
The demon seemed to sense Hadjar’s skepticism and waved his hands. He did so rather comically and awkwardly. Faker...
“I won’t claim that all of this is true,” the Lord of Nightmares immediately preempted all questions. “I’m only telling you what I heard from Darkhan himself. Yes, we knew each other personally. Well, as much as neighbors can know each other, at any rate. Our relationship wasn’t a particularly friendly one. We both served the same Lord, that’s all.”
Hadjar’s eyes widened.
“Did Darkhan serve the Demon Emperor?”
“The Prince.” Helmer corrected wearily. “But it doesn’t matter. Yes, he served him, obviously! I have no idea how much it cost the Emperor to secure his loyalty. I, a simple courier of fears, wasn’t privy to such important plans. I only know that their agreement went sideways for both of them. Just like with Derger, they argued about something. Darkhan, after killing half the population of the Night Lands and seriously wounding the Prince, disappeared into the Spirit World.”
Hadjar and Einen looked at each other. Another fairy tale had just come to life right before their eyes. The Spirit World was real! The place where spirits dwelled when they weren’t walking amongst the living! The legendary place where heroes of the past had either found or created the most incredible artifacts and Techniques in all of cultivation!
“Because of this,” Helmer finished, “he was declared a posthumous enemy of our people. He wasn’t the Enemy of Everything for nothing. He was too ornery. He couldn’t get along with anyone. The whole world was against him.”
Hadjar felt like Helmer was lying to him, but he couldn’t figure out what the lie was. Damn it! The demon could tell him that Darkhan had worked as an assistant of the Tooth Fairy and Hadjar wouldn’t be able to verify his information. Such ancient knowledge could only be found in one place — the Land of the Immortals. But getting there would be difficult, even more so than reaching the Seventh Heaven.
Land of Magic Page 20