Land of Magic

by Kirill Klevanski

  As she got closer to the young man’s soul, she immediately realized what had seemed so off about it. It was as if something had taken a good bite out of it, depriving the swordsman of his chance to follow the true path of cultivation. This wound had nothing to do with the seal of the Sword Spirit on his body. On the contrary, the Spirit seemed to be trying to seal the wound up and heal it. However, something was stopping it. Something dark. Something ancient. Something powerful.

  Hera came a little closer. She held out her hand...

  “Get out!”

  “By the Great Forest!” Enora cried.

  Hera, who’d been sitting quietly next to the swordsman up until a second ago, suddenly flew a couple of yards back. It looked as if something invisible had struck her. What could’ve possibly dealt an invisible blow to a Lord that could actually affect them?

  “Take him to the Spirit Tree.”

  “But aunt-”

  “Immediately!” Hera’s eyes burned with the fire of war. Enora didn’t dare argue. Wiping the blood at the corners of her mouth away, Hera rose slowly. “Stand guard there with your warriors. Wait for me and your father. I’ll be back in two days. If he doesn’t die by then, he shouldn’t wake up, either.”

  “And if he does wake up?”

  Hera looked at the pale young man.

  “Kill him. Kill him immediately! Rip out his heart, cut off his head, and all of his limbs as well. Then put them in different fires and burn them, and then scatter the ashes to all the different winds you can find in the sky!”

  Leaving the shocked Enora behind, Hera turned around and rushed out of the room. She needed to find her brother. Only he had the necessary wisdom to make this decision. She had no idea what they should do with the descendant of the Enemy who had fallen into their lap.

  Chapter 503

  “I repeat…” Hadjar loosened his grip on the blade. “Who are you and what are you doing inside my soul?”

  The raven flew down from the tree and sat on the lone rock, on the exact same spot where Hadjar’s Master had once sat.

  “You know who I am,” it said.

  Its voice was calm, quiet, and clear. It was as if the creature had been singing all its life. No living being could possibly have such a voice.

  “The Black General?”

  The raven spread its wings, looking like it was about to attack Hadjar, but restrained itself.

  “You know my true name, descendant.” The ancient spirit’s voice was steely. “You shouldn’t use the nickname given to me by those who called themselves my masters.”

  Hadjar nodded, but didn’t sheathe his sword. Over the years, he had met enough humans and nonhumans to know when not to lower his guard.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little silly to point my own sword at me?”

  The steel disappeared from the raven’s voice and was replaced by mockery. Those who wanted to take your life always smiled at you brighter and friendlier than anyone else.

  “If you could, I’m sure you would’ve made me lower it already.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. Blue eyes looked into red ones. Hadjar was still clutching the Black Blade, which must’ve looked stupid. He was threatening his ancestor with his own weapon, one of his most faithful companions in many legends about the Black General. Granted, those legends were more like cautionary tales for children, but that didn’t matter right now.

  Finally, the raven sighed, and seemed to raise its wing to its beak, like a man trying to rub his nose.

  “Why are you so hostile toward me, my descendant?”

  “Let me think about it.” Hadjar pretended to ponder. “Because I’ve been hearing about your many sins my entire life, but have heard nothing about your virtues so far. And stop calling me ‘descendant’. I have a name.”

  “History is written by the victors.” The raven responded. Hadjar didn’t want to call it by its first name. “And as for calling you ‘descendant’… Why, that is what you are. You, Hadjar, are my own flesh and blood.”

  “And just recently, a very, very, very distant relative tried to kill me. I guess she was used to killing her relatives.”

  The raven cocked its head to one side. Its eyes flashed like rubies.

  “Don’t you know that the strongest are born from the blood of those they have defeated?” Hadjar had often heard war drums before, their song making his blood boil and heart beat with great fury. But never before had he heard their unique melody in someone’s voice. “Oh, don’t act so surprised, my descendant. I’ve seen your life. The entirety of it. From its very beginning, all the way to the moment when you defeated one of my daughters.”

  “I’m glad.” Hadjar didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I can’t say I’m happy about this. I’d rather not have you as my ancestor. It isn’t exactly fun when all the Spirits of this world want to destroy you.”

  The raven laughed. Well, it cackled, to be more precise.

  “Hadjar Darkhan, a descendant of the first glorious Darkhan, cannot overcome life’s most trivial obstacles.”

  “If you’ve really seen my life, you’d know that that isn’t true.”

  “I have.” The bird nodded. “That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”

  Hadjar looked into the raven’s eyes. He didn’t see any emotion in them.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I understand your caution, my descendant.” The raven flicked a speck of dust off the stone with its wing. “Helmer isn’t the type of person I’d recommend you make deals with. He’s failed me before.”

  Hadjar was about to argue that he could decide for himself what demons to make deals with, but then he realized that would be too childish.

  “You still haven’t told me what this deal of yours is.”

  “Oh, it’s very simple.” The raven seemed to smile. “You see, our goals are quite similar.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you don’t like the gods, and I loathe them. Let’s combine our efforts and we’ll both get what we want.”

  Hadjar’s shoulders shook, and then he burst into almost hysterical laughter.

  “You’ve seen my entire life, old Spirit, and you really think you can fool me with such a simple trick?”

  “No one’s trying to fool you, my descendant.”

  “I told you to stop calling me that! You haven’t told me what your goal is, or what this deal would cost me. Only a fool would accept such an offer. And I’m no fool.”

  The feathers on the raven’s neck stood on end, and its talons scratched the stone. They sent sparks flying, and looked like sharp blades that could easily cut through Hadjar’s soul.

  “Don’t be impertinent, child! I’ve fought monsters and returned the titans back to the days when there were no stars in the sky! I was one of the entities who put them there! This whole world isn’t that much older than me! You’re just a grain of sand in a vast, vast desert.”

  “Then go back to where you came from!”

  Full of pride and rage, they glared at each other. And then, the cackling filled the air once again.

  “We’re very alike, young Hadjar. Only you don’t realize it yet.”

  “Perhaps,” Hadjar shrugged. “Are we done here?”

  Suddenly, the raven jerked its head and looked up at the sky. It flapped its wings fiercely, like it was trying to drive someone away.

  “We don’t have much time left, Hadjar.” The raven sounded alarmed. “The descendants of the old Spirit have discovered me. I’ll have to hide for a while, but don’t think that this conversation is over. I’ll be waiting within your soul, my descendant, as I always have.”

  “You can keep on waiting for the rest of eternity.” Hadjar shrugged again and put his sword away.

  He was now certain that the raven wouldn’t harm him. It needed Hadjar. However, it would be better if the Enemy remained a shadow of the distant past.

  “Here’s my offer, my descendant. Accept me as your Master and
I’ll teach you everything I know. Believe me, there isn’t a single swordsman in this world that surpasses me.”

  Become a disciple of the Enemy? The greatest swordsman that had ever lived? One whose power had been equal to that of Derger, the God of War himself? If Hadjar accepted this deal, perhaps he’d be able to look down on the Emperor of Darnassus in just a couple of years. And a couple of decades later, he’d be walking around the Land of the Immortals as if he owned the place.

  The power that the Black General promised him was indeed tempting. Hadjar remembered the depiction of the Black General’s sword strike. Using a drop of the elixir of the gods, Hadjar had won his battle in the garden of the ‘Heaven’s Pond’, and seen firsthand how monstrous that power could be. Only a fool wouldn’t accept such an offer. Or a complete madman…

  “I’m sorry, but I already have a Master. The greatest dragon that ever lived, my distant ancestor. My only ancestor!”

  The raven’s eyes flashed red.

  “You’ll regret this!” It cried, and then the world went dark.

  ***

  The first thing Hadjar saw when he regained consciousness was a blade pointed at his face.

  “Pray to your forefathers, descendant of the Enemy, for this is the day you die.”

  Chapter 504

  The blade was in the hands of... a creature. It had human features, but its white hair, which framed a sharply defined face, was covered in thick tree bark. Its eyes looked more like the hollows in a tree left behind by woodpeckers. Its wrinkled hands were like dried branches, and its breath was like the rustling of treetops in the summer. Its clothing resembled a forest floor, as if someone had scooped up a handful of moss, leaves, mushrooms, and branches and glued it to themselves. Hadjar had never met the King of the elves, but he assumed that this creature was it.

  “Your Highness.” Hadjar nodded.

  Without taking his eyes off the tip of the man’s blade, Hadjar noticed a lady standing to the right of the King. She looked almost as beautiful as the Spirit of the Kurkhadan oasis, and Hadjar knew right away that she wasn’t human. During his very short life, he’d met so many ancient beings that he was able to distinguish them from humans no matter how well they disguised themselves. You just had to look into their eyes — time itself rippled in them.

  The elf King’s wooden brow furrowed and Hadjar felt a surge of power strong enough to wipe out all the ordinary disciples of ‘The Holy Sky’ School.

  Probably the fully-fledged ones, too.

  “No! Wait!” The beautiful elf woman exclaimed and placed her hand on the hilt of the King’s sword. “Wait, brother,” She repeated in a whisper.

  “Don’t be absurd, Hera.” Even the King’s voice sounded like a personification of the forest, mimicking a distant birdcall coming through the bushes. “He’s a descendant of the Enemy, if not the Enemy himself!”

  “The Enemy?” Hadjar asked, feeling calm despite the situation. “Isn’t he dead?”

  “You can’t kill someone who wasn’t even born!” The King shouted angrily.

  Waves of power began to gather around him once again. They made the air tremble and the fabric of space itself crack. Strange flashes appeared in the air around them.

  “Stop!” Hera stood in the way of her brother’s blade, arms outstretched. “You’re going to kill an innocent man!”

  “By the Great Forest, it doesn’t matter if he’s guilty or not! He’s a descendant of the Enemy! It’s our sacred duty to eliminate each and every one of them from this world!”

  Hadjar was still lying there quietly, observing what was happening. At the moment, there was so much power raging around him that he couldn’t even think of moving. Sometimes, it was better to just do nothing.

  “Or have you forgotten what happened in Lascan, when one of the Enemy’s descendants gave him his soul? The whole Kingdom turned into a sea of blood! And how many Lords did it take to finally stop an ordinary Heaven Soldier?”

  “Gave him his soul?” Hadjar asked timidly.

  They ignored him. The two siblings continued to argue. Hadjar once again praised Einen’s paranoia. It, like any other disease, had been transmitted to Hadjar. It sometimes caused a lot of harm, but it had saved his life this time. In the world of martial arts, nothing was ever given to you for free. Even his distant ancestor, the dragon Traves, had had to demand a fair price for his heart. What that price was, Hadjar still didn’t know. And as for the Enemy, the Black General, he had offered Hadjar his power, seemingly asking nothing in return. He had offered to join forces with him. Except… Joining forces with such an ancient being meant he would’ve been immediately taken over by the Enemy.

  “You yourself, Hera, felt that there’s an unusually large fragment of the Enemy’s soul within him! No nation has ever encountered such a thing before!”

  “But that fragment is sealed!” Hera objected. Hadjar had completely lost the thread of their conversation.

  “Sealed inside the boy’s soul?” The elf King’s raised tone made the currents of power around him surge. “Can you tell me who exactly was able to split his soul in half and seal the Enemy in one of the halves? How long will this seal even last?”

  “I don’t know, brother. But what I do know is that this is a young man sitting in front of you, not the Enemy. No matter how strong the Black General is, he has no control over someone with free will. Like any Spirit or god, he can’t force a person to do something they don’t want to do themselves. Now look into his eyes.” Hera moved to the side and pointed at Hadjar. “Do you see so much as a speck of Darkhan in them?”

  Hadjar had looked into the eyes of many creatures far stronger and older than this King. However, there was something about the old elf that almost made Hadjar avert his gaze. As soon as he felt that impulse, anger and rage bubbled up inside him. He cursed his moment of weakness.

  The elf King had seen a lot in his lifetime. He was probably the oldest living being in the entire city of Dahanatan, and, perhaps, in Darnassus as a whole. He knew about the Great War not from his mother’s stories, but from the records of the first elf King, who had lived forty generations ago. He was well aware of the danger the Enemy posed even to this day. The Raven Society, which was trying to resurrect their ancestor, and the Light Society, which opposed them, both existed for a reason.

  By the Great Forest, even if the elf King had done nothing outstanding in his entire life, this one murder... No, not murder, but act of justice, would’ve been enough to allow him to look into his ancestors’ eyes without embarrassment once he moved on to the Eternal Meadow.

  Perhaps he really couldn’t see the Enemy in the boy’s clear and strong gaze, but he was still his blood! He was the descendant of an entity who had become famous not only for his skill with a sword, but also for lying, tempting, and deceiving. Anyone who spoke to the Enemy even once became a part of his plan. It was impossible to meet the first Darkhan and come out of the encounter untainted. It was like jumping into a lake of tar and trying to cleanse yourself in a light rain afterwards. Maybe the boy wasn’t yet corrupted by the poison of true evil, but...

  “I’m sorry, boy.” The King sighed.

  With a wave of his hand, he pushed the protesting Hera aside. She hovered a few yards off the ground, entangled in invisible threads. Hadjar was crushed to the ground like a bug by an avalanche of energy.

  The sword, which was aimed directly between his eyes, shone so brightly that it blinded him. Hadjar couldn’t summon the Black Blade or use his Call. He just lay there, rendered helpless by the pressure of the King’s power, awaiting his fate. He had no regrets. Maybe if he’d accepted the Black General’s offer, he would’ve survived, but he would’ve also become the Enemy’s slave. What kind of life would that have been? Hadjar Darkhan had already worn a slave collar before. It had been placed there by someone else and it had taken him too much time and effort to remove it. He wasn’t going to put one on himself. It was better to die free than to live without honor. Except death wasn�
�t taking him. He had slipped out of its clutches so many times that it had probably grown to hate him and now wanted him to suffer.

  His vision returned gradually. Hadjar saw the bewildered King staring at a pink leaf resting on the very tip of his blade.

  “But why, Great Ancestor?” The elf sighed.

  The leaf, as if responding to his question, flew away in an endless dance atop the wind currents.

  “Well...” The confusion in the elf King’s eyes turned into determination. “You will live to see another day, descendant of the Enemy.”

  Chapter 505

  After the pressure disappeared, Hadjar was finally able to get up and look around. At first, he thought he was standing on a wooden floor, but when he looked closer, he realized that it was actually a very wide and smooth branch.

  “Wow.” Hadjar said.

  He was lying on a branch near the top of a huge tree. Its pink leaves contrasted sharply with its gray trunk and branches, and stood out amidst all the green of the surrounding forest. Even without looking at it through the World River, he could see that the tree was very unusual. Another leaf, a copy of the one that had recently fallen on the elf King’s blade, landed on Hadjar’s palm. That one leaf contained more Spirit than a Spirit Knight’s entire core.

  “What about Einen and Dora?” Hadjar asked no one in particular.

  “They’re all right,” Hera said. She’d come back down to the branch and was adjusting her hair and robes, which were made of a fabric that Hadjar had never seen before, but which looked insanely expensive. “I see you don’t believe me, little warrior.”

  “Don’t take it personally, I barely believe myself sometimes.”

  The elf approached him and reached for his hair, but suddenly pulled her hand back. Holding it gingerly to her chest, she took a step back.

  “Maybe your lack of trust saved your life. This time…”

  Hadjar sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d already gotten used to the fact that ancient creatures always spoke as if the other person possessed the same knowledge they did. It was still annoying, though.