Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

  “Serra,” Hadjar growled.

  “Hadjar.” She said, smiling cheerfully. “Einen.”

  Her calm, happy voice contrasted sharply with the girl’s appearance. Her whole body was covered in terrible bruises, bleeding cuts that the scraps of fabric that had replaced her clothes couldn’t hide, and numerous burns, some of which were already covered with a disgusting, yellow crust. Her hair was matted with sweat, sand, and blood. Her lips were broken and there was dried blood under her nose and ears.

  “I’m sorry, Hadjar, I couldn’t stop them.”

  Her tone was even, carefree, and cheerful, like she was a happy child who hadn’t been tortured by these maniacs for months.

  “Sankesh!” Hadjar bellowed.

  The energy around him turned from blue to black, and within it, black lightning bolts arced. Hadjar grabbed his blade and took a step forward just as Einen’s and Ramukhan’s hands landed on his shoulders simultaneously.

  “It’s not time yet, barbarian.” The sorcerer whispered in his ear. “They did that on purpose. There was no reason to torture the Key. She would’ve brought them here anyway. It’s her mission.”

  “The sorcerer is right, my friend,” Einen said. “They want to throw us off balance, make us act rashly.”

  Einen’s hand gripped his shoulder tightly, indicating the islander’s own desire to fight. He’d never showed it, but Einen liked little Serra too.

  “Are you really going to let these worms hold you back, Dragon?” Sankesh laughed.

  He tossed his head back and roared in amusement. Even his throat looked mighty enough to break a common soldier’s blade.

  “I pictured this place looking completely different. It’s so miserable.” Sunshine Sankesh looked around. There was contempt mixed with disappointment on his face. “What else can you expect from an extinct civilization, though? It was too weak to continue fighting for its life, after all.”

  “We don’t want to fight you, King of the desert,” Ramukhan bowed. “We came here for knowledge, and you can take the rest-”

  Sankesh held out his hand toward the sorcerer and squeezed. Ramukhan was torn from the floor. He clutched his own throat in agony. He clawed frantically at it, trying to breathe. Ramukhan’s staff clattered across the stone floor.

  “I don’t need your permission, worm!” Sankesh snarled. “Everything under the sky belongs to the strongest. And that’s clearly not you.”

  “Release him, Sankesh.” Hadjar didn’t unsheathe his sword, but there were already deep gouges in the floor around him.

  “Do you want to save your master, Dragon?” Sankesh’s eyes blazed with animalistic fury. “You could’ve been part of the new world order. My order! But you chose to be a footrest for these pathetic parodies of mages instead!”

  “I told you this already. I’m not a slave.”

  For some time, they just stared at each other. Ramukhan stopped twitching. He turned blue, and then his eyes rolled back.

  “Pathetic piece of shit.”

  Sankesh opened his hand, and Ramukhan fell to the floor like a broken doll. Tilis and Karissa rushed over to him. Taking out some talismans, they hastily cast a variety of spells on the sorcerer’s body. After a few moments, Ramukhan grunted and woke up. There was a black burn or bruise on his neck, as if he’d been choked not by the power of someone’s will, but by a burning gauntlet.

  “We... can... negotiate-”

  Sankesh’s glance was enough to make the sorcerer close his mouth loudly and fall silent.

  “I don’t negotiate with worms, wretch,” he said, turning back to Hadjar. “You know what I came here for, North Wind.”

  Hadjar did know. Sunshine Sankesh needed the elixir of the gods. The damned maniac was going to ascend to the Seventh Heaven and reshape the world at his discretion, making it suitable for only the strongest to live in, with the weak forced to do nothing but cower and serve, if they even survived.

  “We need to go, Hadjar,” Glen said. The Baliumian didn’t grab his sword, he even raised his hands. He radiated a willingness to surrender. “Look at that monster. He alone is enough to turn us into mincemeat. And by the gods, the gray-skinned old man isn’t much weaker than Sankesh. And then there’s his daughter. We simply can’t do anything to them…”

  Hadjar understood what Glen was saying. Even if he were twice as strong, he wouldn’t be able to fight Sankesh as an equal. Still, there were things he simply could not back down from… One look at little Serra was enough to wake the dragon inside Hadjar.

  “Leave, Sankesh.” Hadjar’s every word sounded like a blade being drawn from its scabbard. “If you want to become a god, do so with your own power. Otherwise, what’s the difference between you and... these worms you so despise?”

  Sankesh squinted at him, then began to cackle again. His actions made the desperate madness in the depths of his soul plainly visible.

  “Stupid dog. Do you think you can alter my path with mere words?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Sankesh waved his hand again. Hadjar and the others reached for their weapons in order to ward off the pressure of his will, but there was no attack. Or rather, it hadn’t been meant for them.

  Little Erra was lifted off the floor and dragged through the air. A moment later, she was wheezing helplessly in the madman’s steely grip.

  “You’re the List, right?” Sankesh’s smile was beastly. “Tell me how to find the elixir of the gods and Derger’s Technique.”

  “I don’t know.”

  The cracked floor rumbled and shook, and a cloud of dust rose up, reaching the ceiling. Sankesh loomed over the little girl. With a flick of his hand, he slammed her into the floor, burying her a dozen feet below the stone.

  “Don’t you lie to me, you pathetic parody of a human. Do your duty!” He grabbed her hair and held her up like a broken doll in front of his face. “Where’s the elixir?”

  “I don’t-”

  Sankesh slapped Erra’s stomach. Like a cannonball, she flew fifty yards through the air, went through a dozen shelves, and slammed into a wall.

  “Hadjar,” Serra whispered. A small tear slid down her left cheek.

  “Sankesh!” Hadjar roared with primal fury.

  He didn’t care that Sankesh was a Spirit Knight. He didn’t care about Einen’s and Ramukhan’s warnings. He didn’t care about elixirs, gods, or demons. The little girl he’d promised to protect was crying! He was ready to burn the whole world down to avenge her shedding even one tear! Mountain Wind made a noise like thunder as it left the scabbard... but Hadjar didn’t manage to take even a single step forward.

  “Not so fast,” someone whispered in his ear.

  Glen’s dagger was at Hadjar’s throat.

  “Damned Baliumian!” Tilis shouted. “Remember the oath! You’ll be-”

  “Shut up!” Glen snapped. “Gods and demons, I’m tired of your bitching. You can shove your oath up your ass. I’m not harming the barbarian. Quite the contrary, I’m trying to save him. Right, my Lord?”

  Sankesh smiled widely at Glen.

  “My faithful dog. “

  “Dog,” Hadjar said contemptuously. “Do proud Baliumians now rejoice when they are called dogs?”

  “Shut up, Hadjar!” Glen’s dagger twitched, but it didn’t touch Hadjar’s skin. He couldn’t afford to break his oath. “You don’t know anything about me! And you don’t know anything about what Sunshine Sankesh can give you!”

  “You’re right, I don’t!” Hadjar grabbed Glen’s forearm and shouted, “Now!”

  Einen’s staff-spear flashed and the Baliumian fell in a puddle of his own blood. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened. There was a gash right in the middle of his forehead. The blood was dark and muddy, with gray lumps floating in it. Einen didn’t stop there. He reached into his own shadow and pulled out a waterskin. He threw it at Sankesh’s feet and assumed a fighting stance.

  “That’s rather curious,” the giant said calmly. “What the hell are you doing-“


  He was interrupted by the waterskin exploding. Sand flew in all directions, and from it, mounted on his sand dogs, Shakh and his men jumped out.

  “I’ll kill you!” Shakh shouted, drawing his daggers.

  Chapter 405

  “Go, my Lord.” Arliksha blocked Shakh’s daggers with her saber.

  “We’ll handle them.” The northerner struck his chest with his gauntleted fists.

  Sunshine Sankesh didn’t respond. He simply grabbed Serra and Erra by the hair and dragged them into the endless corridors of the library.

  “Sankesh!” Hadjar pushed himself off the floor.

  Even after blurring into the shadow of the Seven Ravens, he failed to break through the northerner’s defenses. The old man held up his gauntlets like a shield. The energy emanating from them assumed the shape of a wolf’s head. The beast’s sharp fangs gripped Hadjar’s sword tightly.

  “Not so fast, southerner.” The true northerner growled disdainfully.

  The power of the Spirit Knight’s aura immediately descended on Hadjar. The pressure made deep cracks appear in the stone floor, and everyone except Einen was thrown aside. Even Arliksha, engaged in battle with Shakh and Kharad, was unable to resist the overwhelming power. Only Hadjar and Einen remained standing opposite the mighty northerner. As they were simple practitioners, they looked even weaker than ants under a tiger’s paw while facing the Spirit Knight.

  Sankesh didn’t see any of this. He didn’t care. He only saw his goal and he kept advancing toward it. By the Evening Stars, how long the road had been…

  “Little brother, you aren’t-”

  “Shut up!” Sankesh slammed Serra’s face into the stone wall. “Shut up, you miserable brat! I’m not your brother!”

  ***

  The Pearl of the Sands really lived up to its name — surrounded by huge dunes from the west, east, and north, hidden in the lowlands, its white stone walls and houses looked like iridescent foam atop frozen waves. Very few travelers who had visited the Pearl could doubt that it was the capital of the vast desert.

  Its avenues were wide and stone-paved, and the streets branching off from them formed a complex web. The tall, rectangular towers of the palaces provided shade during the daytime and shelter from chilly winds at night. Numerous people scurried about their business. Children’s laughter, the cries of various animals, and sometimes the clanging of armor made of real steel all filled the air.

  The city was rich. The golden domes stretched far into the sky, and one could find anything that would appeal to a buyer in the fairs and bazaars.

  The most magnificent building, however, towering above all the other buildings and with strikingly beautiful decorations, was... no, not the Palace of Sultan Rahaim and his venerable ancestors. Once, it had really been the most impressive building, and it had been difficult to find buildings that were grander and more pompous than the Palace of the Pearl in the whole desert.

  Centuries had passed, Rahaim had matured, his hair had gone gray at the temples, and with that, a new building had appeared in the city. The Temple of Wisdom and Knowledge. The library of the Pearl of the Sands. Its great stone tower seemed impossibly huge. Its spires towered even above the surrounding dunes. The abode of Rahaim and his family was now located on its summit. It was small and inconspicuous compared to the Palace, but its windows afforded a truly majestic view of the endless sand.

  “Father,” the little boy said, nervously fiddling with the sun-shaped amulet in his hands, “I wanted to talk to you-”

  “Don’t disturb me,” the tall man interrupted him.

  Dressed in a gold-embroidered outfit, he was sitting at an oak table, sorting through the texts of several books. His source of light was a white sphere circling above the man’s head.

  “It’s about mom-”

  “She’s dead,” the sultan interrupted his son again.

  “But-”

  “It’s time for you to grow up, Sankesh!” The man shouted.

  Few people would’ve recognized the wise and calm Rahaim at that moment. The best and kindest sultan in history. The man who’d created the greatest cultivation school in the city, possibly the entire desert, and whose disciples were reputed to be the best of the best, defenders of peace in the desert. Little Sankesh, Rahaim’s son and heir to the sultan’s turban, sniffed and turned toward the window. He stared at the endless sands. The wind swept the yellow dust from the dunes, which looked like golden waves from such a height.

  “Send your sister in, Sankesh,” Rahaim ordered, his eyes still on the book.

  She’s not my sister! Sankesh thought, but simply answered:

  “Yes, father.”

  Sankesh went down the stairs to the lower floors. His father’s disciples wandered among the many shelves. They greeted their Prince respectfully, but their eyes were full of mockery. Behind his back, they whispered and mocked the heir who was incapable of cultivating the Sand Techniques. The boy gritted his teeth and continued to toy with the amulet his mother had given him.

  Serra, his sister... his aunt... his grandmother... was where she always was: surrounded by her disciples who adored her, giving then advice and smiles both.

  “Girls love flowers, Durmar,” she smiled at one of the men. “Give her flowers. Or a little beaded lizard.”

  “Why?”

  “To make her think about you when she looks at it. Thoughts, Durmar, have great power.”

  Oftentimes, there was a sense of eternity in the eyes of the creature that looked like a nine-year-old girl, but it didn’t last long.

  “Play with me!” Serra exclaimed, suddenly losing sight of that wisdom.

  “Serra!” Sankesh shouted, not approaching the group of her disciples.

  “Yes, little-”

  “Don’t call me that!” Sankesh almost shrieked. “Filthy brat…”

  “Prince!” The disciples thundered in unison.

  Durmar separated from the group and came over to the Prince. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like living stone to the child, but the boy didn’t look away. Fearlessly, he stared at the man who could wring his neck with just two fingers and at his massive axe. The young man leaned toward the Prince and whispered so that no one but Sankesh could hear him:

  “Watch your mouth, you incompetent puppy. Otherwise, you could have an accident.”

  Sankesh gritted his teeth again in impotent anger. With great difficulty, he pretended to ignore the insult.

  “Father. Wants. To. See. You. Serra.” Sankesh forced every word out with the force of a blacksmith hammering hot iron.

  “Yep!”

  The happy girl leapt from her pedestal and ran toward the winding staircase that led up to Sultan Rahaim’s chambers.

  Sankesh glared at her back as she ran.

  ***

  “Sound the bugles!” Rahaim shouted.

  Standing on the ramparts, clad in gold and steel armor, he didn’t look like a sage, but like a formidable warrior. Below him, under the walls, the bandits’ banners fluttered. Hundreds of thousands of chekhars were besieging the Pearl. They didn’t have the power needed to capture the city, but they were still demanding tribute… These fools didn’t know that Rahaim’s school was strong enough to drive them away.

  A low rumble swept over the endless sand. Accompanied by the bandits’ cheers, the capital of the Sea of Sand opened its gates, but instead of a defeated sultan, hundreds of warriors charged in to engage the enemy.

  “My Lord!” A scout fell to one knee behind Rahaim.

  “Not now!” Rahaim snapped.

  Gripping the edge of the wall, he peered at the ranks of his warriors. His heart told him that… And it was true. Alongside his best disciples, his son rode ahead of the army on a desert raven. Sankesh, who was now sixteen, hadn’t even been able to reach the level of the Bodily Rivers. He was almost a mere mortal.

  “Fool!” Rahaim wailed. “Idiot! By the Evening Stars, he is my punishment for some great misdeed!” The sultan turned to his subord
inate. “Convey my orders to the army: I want the best disciples to immediately-”

  “Serra!” The scout interrupted him. “My Lord, the bandits have captured Serra!”

  “She should’ve been safe in the library!”

  “The girl ran away and-”

  At that very moment, a plaintive cry sounded from below, from the direction of the bloody battle. Rahaim ran to the edge of the wall. He watched his only son get yanked out of the saddle, then a slave collar was placed around his neck, and finally, he was dragged away from the battle like a beaten dog.

  “Father!” The wind carried the boy’s desperate cry.

  Sankesh looked into his father’s eyes, he was the only person who could help him. A second passed… Then two… Before Rahaim turned away. Sankesh had seen only disappointment and contempt in the sultan’s eyes. Contempt for his son’s weakness…

  “Father!”

  The cry echoed across the battlefield for a long time, but Rahaim didn’t hear it. He was rushing to help Serra.

  ***

  After kicking the helpless golems some more, Sankesh moved on. The elixir of the gods was very close, but for some reason, his heart began to ache. The accursed Evening Stars had forced useless memories from his past before his mind’s eye. And once again, someone was rushing in to help Serra.

  “I didn’t tell you this before, freak,” a mad smile twisted Sankesh’s face into an inhuman expression, “but the blades of my daughter, which she killed your beloved Rahaim with, had been laced with poison. He didn’t die quickly. In fact, he took a really, really long time to die…”

  Serra looked up at the giant, but all she saw was the abandoned boy whose own mother had died in his arms from a terrible disease.

  “But he was your father…”

  “I have no father!” Sankesh’s roar shook the walls. “Now shut up, or Rahaim’s fate will seem like a gift from the heavens compared to yours.”