Hadjar hoped that the creature wasn’t coming here for their souls and wouldn’t peer at them too closely. Hadjar guessed that the spell, even one cast by powerful magic users, would easily be seen through by the Lord of the Heavens.
Moving slightly away from his camel, Hadjar looked at the sky. There, among the black clouds, he saw only red flashes of lightning. However, with each subsequent flash, a silhouette grew clearer. A silhouette that often visited Hadjar in his nightmares. This was the reason why he spent all his free time in deep meditation.
After the battle against the dragon on the last day of his time with Rahaim’s caravan, his body hadn’t been injured, but his soul... A deep scar remained across its surface. A scar that had yet to heal. After all, it wasn’t every day you came across a foe who looked at you like you looked at an ant, or at a speck of dust.
The two huge, leathery wings swept the clouds aside. Covering the black sand with its shadow, the huge dragon flew through the sky.
Hadjar breathed a sigh of relief.
The monster that was currently hovering in the sky belonged to the same tribe as the one that had destroyed Rahaim’s caravan, but it was smaller. Instead of four wings, it only had two. Its color wasn’t so saturated, and it didn’t cause him to panic. Of course, the monster’s power was still far beyond the understanding of anyone there, but this dragon was far weaker than the one he’d encountered before.
“By the Great Turtle,” Einen, who was lying nearby, breathed out. “Its tail... look at its tail...”
Hadjar looked closer and cursed. Why hadn’t he noticed that the dragon was missing a tail? It had a bleeding stump where its tail should’ve been. The cut was so even and smooth that neither teeth nor claws could’ve caused it. Hadjar felt even worse when he spotted that.
He suddenly realized that the Lord of the Heavens wasn’t hunting, or flying through the air for the simple pleasure of it, or even just surveying its domain, it was fleeing! The roar which it had let out hadn’t been a hunter’s exclamation of triumph, but a prey animal’s cry of fear. The dragon was calling for help from its older relatives. However, help wasn’t coming.
The wounded dragon, soaring through the clouds at a breakneck speed, was fleeing from danger, and, by the gods, Hadjar didn’t want to find out what kind of creature was capable of injuring it.
Alas, he had no choice in the matter.
No one in the squad could contain their exclamation of surprise and admiration when a huge pillar burst out of the sand right in the dragon’s path. It was as big as a mountain. Suddenly, the pillar trembled, and, like a roll of fabric, began to unfold. Gradually, outlines of a gigantic face with a mouth appeared in it.
Out of this toothless, sandy hole, a stream of golden energy surged forward, eventually forming an equally huge staff. It struck the dragon that was trying its best to protect itself. However, the staff easily broke through the sphere of white energy that had enveloped the body of the Lord of the Heavens. The staff shattered the dragon’s wings, sending it plummeting to the ground. Another roar, full of agony and horror, swept through the sky, and then everything stilled. Apparently, this was the end of the battle, because there were already numerous wounds and bruises on the gasping monster. Its crystal skin had been punctured by its own bones sticking out of its body. Some had even broken off, which looked creepy.
“The sand,” Karissa whispered suddenly.
Hadjar looked down and leapt to his feet in surprise. The black sand was rapidly turning into the yellow, ‘native’, and ‘familiar’ kind of sand.
The same thing was happening to the sky. The black clouds were gradually turning white and gold. They parted, blowing the red lightning away and exposing the endless azure. The sun, which so rarely showed its face in the Demon’s Heart, was now gently caressing the vast territory. That was the last thing the dragon saw.
The hunters were enveloped in a wave of incredible power. It was so potent that they couldn’t move or even get up. Each breath they took was painful. Salif and the boy began to choke.
With a trembling hand, Ramukhan pulled a red cloth talisman from his pocket. He threw it toward the servants, and the strip of fabric, after splitting in half in midair, wrapped itself around their heads, making them look like mummies. They were obviously breathing more freely now, but it was still difficult for them.
“This is impossible,” Hadjar whispered, “it’s impossible.”
He’d already felt a similar power before. It had happened so long ago that he’d almost been convinced it had just been a dream.
With great difficulty, using his willpower and obstinacy, having to lean on his sword, he rose and turned around.
An old man was flying over the sand. In his right hand, he held a staff with a round, golden globe at the top. The staff touched the sand lightly, kicking up golden sparks which painted the desert in its usual shades of yellow and, once they reached the sky, dispersed the black clouds as well.
His gold and red caftan fluttered slightly in the wind. A simple turban covered his gray hair. His bronze skin couldn’t hide his deep wrinkles. The old man’s calm eyes gazed steadily at the vast area stretching out before him.
An orange sphere was flying ahead of him, followed by a cheetah. One glance at the beast was enough for them to see that it was a much stronger monster than the fiery bird and the snake had been.
“I don’t like the Demon’s Heart.” The old man’s voice sounded pretty normal, there was no power or the echo of time in it. “If this dragon hadn’t been such a coward, I would’ve never even come here.”
As soon as Hadjar looked into the old man’s eyes, he shuddered. Eternity looked back at him. It was akin to how looking into the eyes of the Bedouin’s boy shaman had felt. However, the old man’s eyes also contained a whole ocean of power.
“Immortal,” Ramukhan said breathlessly.
The old man turned his head toward him. Nothing happened. No surge in the streams of the World River, nor any other external manifestations of power, but the sorcerer’s eyes still glazed over. The same thing happened to the rest of them.
“Don’t worry, young man,” the old man smiled as he looked at Hadjar, “Nothing terrible has happened to them. I’ve just erased the last few minutes from their memory. I’ll do the same to you.”
Hadjar raised his left hand suddenly. He straightened his palm and tilted it to the right. He traced the index finger of his right hand over his left palm, and then struck that same palm with a fist. Bowing low, he uttered a ritual phrase. He’d never thought that this knowledge would prove useful to him so soon in his life.
“The one who has seen the glory of the House of Blade Fury greets you, Wiseman!”
By the Gods, for the first time in a thousand years, someone had managed to truly surprise the old man.
Chapter 359
“Do you want me to tell you about the Immortals?” The Shadow of the Immortal laughed.
It was the sixth month of Hadjar’s training in the underground tomb. His concern about Nero’s fate, who was struggling against the terrible poison of ‘The Black Gates’ sect at that very moment, hadn’t disappeared. But the Mad General believed that the Shadow had indeed altered the current of time.
The power he felt in this place would’ve driven anyone mad. So, he was happy about the fact that, according to most people, Hadjar was already mad.
“Yes, Master,” Hadjar bowed, “Please tell me about them.”
“If it wasn’t for all of your hard work, I’d think you were shirking your training.” The Shadow glanced at the worn stone that Hadjar was practicing his swordsmanship on. “Let’s make a deal — you accept my power and become my heir in exchange for my knowledge?”
Hadjar shook his head.
“With all due respect, honorable-”
“Wiseman,” the Shadow interrupted him and sighed, then sat down opposite Hadjar. They were sitting on a small hill covered with grass that had a great view of the Palace of indescribable beauty. “I know you came
here for the flower. It’s a stupid decision that I still respect immensely. Tell me, little warrior, will you regret your decision if your friend dies?”
“I’m here to save him.”
“No, I don’t mean from the poison. If he dies in a year, or two, or ten, hell, even a hundred. If he encounters a foe he can’t overcome. When he inevitably dies, will you regret your decision?”
Nero? Die? A foe he can’t overcome? Hadjar thought this was a foolish thing to ask. Whatever danger threatened his friend, he would always have Hadjar at his side. He and Hadjar would face any enemy together, even the whole world!
“In the Land of the Immortals, it is customary to address someone as being ‘wise’ if you want to be respectful.” The Shadow popped a blade of grass in his mouth and stretched out on his back. “What use is honor or power to those who live forever? Time is of no importance to us. Honor and power are important only to those who are waiting to die.”
“But you can be killed,” Hadjar said.
“That’s right.” The Shadow smiled a little sadly. “That’s why, in the Land of the Immortals, there are criminals who are despised and heroes who are praised. There are beings full of honor, and there are those who have forgotten about it.”
Hadjar didn’t ask what the Shadow meant by ‘beings’. Instead, he was all ears.
“The Immortals value knowledge most of all, as knowledge is power. And what do you think is the pinnacle of knowledge? Wisdom. Knowledge without wisdom is like a sword without a scabbard: it wounds both the enemy and its owner.”
Then the Shadow’s lengthy tale about his country began. He said that those who were born in the Land of the Immortals couldn’t be compared to the practitioners of other countries. He said that they were already at the level of a Heaven Soldier at birth.
Hadjar listened to the story with a faint smile. Could a baby really be a true cultivator? It was impossible, surely.
The Shadow told him about their cities of unprecedented size and heart-stopping beauty. About the people who lived, learned, fought, reconciled, loved, made friends, wove intrigues and conspiracies, celebrated, and died in battles there. According to him, his country was almost no different from any other. Well, apart from the fact its warriors could cut mountains in half with a casual wave of their hands. Hadjar still didn’t believe that was possible.
“I lived in the House of Blade Fury,” the Shadow continued. “I began as a mere servant, then became a disciple of the outer circle, then a full-fledged disciple. Alas, the rank of a disciple of the inner circle and the knowledge that would’ve come with it was something I could never attain.”
“You trained in a House?” Hadjar asked.
“Yes,” the Shadow nodded. “It’s a sort of sect.”
“What’s the difference?”
The Shadow of the Immortal thought about it for a moment, then laughed.
“There probably isn’t one. Our sects are just called Houses instead.”
Suddenly, the Shadow rose to his feet and made some gestures that Hadjar didn’t understand.
“If you ever find yourself in my homeland, visit my House and go to the stele of the Furious Blade, then greet it with these words: ‘The one who has seen the glory of the House of Blade Fury greets you!’ Then, perhaps, the forefathers will be kind to me and let me move on to the circle of rebirth. And if you ever meet an Immortal, call them ‘wise’. There’s a chance your meeting will end well if you do…”
***
The old man looked at Hadjar.
“You’re not even a true cultivator yet,” he said at last. “How did you, a worthless worm, ever meet someone who taught you how to use the House of Blade Fury’s greeting?”
Hadjar felt a power so intense that his heart nearly stopped beating press down on him. By the gods, if he’d been a mortal, Hadjar would’ve died on the spot. Worst of all, the old man hadn’t actually used any energy. He’d just been a little indignant, and because of this superficial emotion, Hadjar had almost died.
“Don’t be angry, oh wise Immortal,” Hadjar said, his back still bent. “Please, listen to my story first.”
Apparently, after becoming an Immortal, a person acquired truly divine patience. The old man listened to Hadjar’s story from beginning to end without interrupting, and sometimes even asked questions in order to clarify some details. Hadjar told him everything that had happened to him from Nero’s poisoning in the battle with ‘The Black Gates’ sect to when Hadjar left the Immortal’s tomb.
“My House of the Golden Heavens has never been on good terms with the House of Blade Fury,” the old man sighed. “But to simply deny an Inheritance... Apparently, this young man had had a worthy talent. I grieve his death with you.”
The old man turned to the rising sun, put down his staff, and fell to his knees. As Hadjar looked on in disbelief, he bowed three times to the giant star, touching the sand with his forehead. The Immortal who could easily destroy a dragon was bowing... It seemed to Hadjar like all the wonders he’d seen before paled in comparison to this.
Once he was done, the old man rose to his feet and picked his staff back up. This seemingly ordinary weapon emanated a powerful energy.
Suddenly, something occurred to Hadjar.
“You said ‘his death’. But he was already dead. His Shadow taught me.”
“That’s right,” the old man said. “But if he taught you, he must’ve chosen you to be his heir. After you refused to accept his Inheritance, he couldn’t pass it on to anyone else. So, with you gone, the tomb was destroyed, and the Inheritance along with it, and the Shadow then returned to his owner to face the judgment of his forefathers.”
The old man looked slightly reproachful.
“But that means…”
“That’s right,” the Immortal said. “You abandoned your Master’s life’s work. By the Evening Stars, the judgment of his forefathers will be severe.”
Hadjar remembered the Shadow’s request for him to bow to the stele in his House.
“What if I bow to his House’s stele in his name?”
“Then your achievements will be linked to his name and his forefathers will be pleased,” the old man nodded.
Hadjar’s heart skipped a beat. It turned out that, for all these years, he’d been wearing the stigma of dishonor. The Shadow, which could’ve easily destroyed him, had preferred to disappear after giving him the flower and sharing a piece of his knowledge. Thus, he’d both saved his brother, Nero, and also helped Hadjar survive the battles that had followed. He’d turned his back on someone who’d been so kind to him. By the gods, what he’d done, though he hadn’t known about the consequences, had been the height of dishonor!
Without hesitation, Hadjar plunged his blade into the sand in front of him. Dropping to his knees, he bowed to the sword three times. Then, after running his hand over it, he summoned his own power and said:
“I swear that I’ll bow to the stele in the House of Blade Fury one day to ensure that my Master can rest in peace.”
The blood on Hadjar’s palm flashed with a blue light, and then slid back into the wound. A faint scar remained on his hand, one that wouldn’t disappear until Hadjar fulfilled his vow. And if he didn’t, his soul would be destroyed and he would disappear in the World River.
“What you just did was quite honorable,” the old man said. “I’m glad to see that my countryman made the right choice. Perhaps you’re even more worthless than the sand beneath our feet right now, but I believe that we’ll meet again someday. So, let me tell you my name. I’m Harlim.”
Just like that. The Immortal named Harlim. Nothing else.
“Now, you must excuse me, I need to get back to my work. Your friends will wake up in about two hours. Try not to reveal that you remember something that they don’t.”
With those parting words, the old man was about to leave, but then Hadjar bowed low again.
“I know I’m asking a lot, but would you let me take a look at your trophy?”
“My trophy?”
“The dragon’s body.”
"Oh, that. I want nothing from that coward but its first fang and core. You can keep the rest. Consider it a gift.”
Hadjar eyed the carcass and immediately refused. All he wanted to do was examine the dead dragon carefully, in the hope that, when the neural network finished rebooting, it would be able to use this new data to finally discern what kind of changes Traves’ heart had made to his body and energy.
Computing module is currently rebooting…
Approximate time until completion is…
“Since we’re going to be spending a bit more time together,” the old man began as his cheetah bit into the dragon’s body, “Could you tell me where you’re going in this accursed place, forgotten by the Evening Stars, and why?”
Chapter 360
Azrea popped up from beneath Hadjar’s turban. She stretched, slid down to his shoulder, licked his stubbly cheek, and then ran across the sand. When she caught up with the cheetah that was clawing the core out of the monster’s carcass, she meowed.
The spotted animal was distracted from his grisly work and looked down. At the foot of the mountain-sized body, a small, white lump of wool stood on the yellow sand. The cheetah snorted and went back to his business, but Azrea persisted. She meowed once again. This time, it was an angry meow. The cheetah looked up from his work once again, and Hadjar could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. After this, the happy cub pounced on the fallen dragon like white lightning and joined in.
It was probably inadvisable for such a little creature to taste the dragon’s blood. Hadjar was about to get up from the sand to retrieve his furry companion when Harlim stopped him. The old man, who was smoking a long, spiral pipe, smiled and said: “Leave her be. Despite the fact that she’s a beast, she knows how to live better than we do. Animals, in general, always know better than us.”
Hadjar looked at the Immortal, then at the dead dragon, and sat back down. They were sitting on the crest of a small dune and watching the sun fighting for every inch of space. It was fighting against the black clouds and the lightning that flashed through them.
Dragon Heart Page 13