Chapter 406
The northerner jerked his wrist, and the wolf’s mouth that emerged from his gloves lashed out at Hadjar’s sword. He felt as if a battering ram had struck his blade. His feet were lifted off the ground, and Hadjar, after he flew a dozen yards through the air and knocked down two bookshelves, finally landed on the cold floor.
Blood spurted from his mouth. His Technique for Strengthening the Body used up almost a third of his energy reserves at once, but even that wasn’t enough to completely nullify the Spirit Knight’s blow. His bones and skin were still intact, but the same couldn’t be said for his internal organs. The northerner’s single attack had been enough to wound Hadjar.
While Hadjar was recovering, Einen was fighting the northerner. The islander didn’t waste any time: using the Call, he summoned the blood Inheritance of his ancestors to aid him. Iridescent scales covered his skin. The light that they radiated took the form of something like a barely visible sphere. The northerner, upon seeing this, only grinned.
“Northern Wolf,” he said, throwing a straightforward punch.
The floor beneath his feet was instantly covered in a layer of ice. The air got cold, and the northerner’s next attack looked like the same wolf’s face from before. Only this time, it was snarling as it rushed forward and hit Einen.
He flicked the blade inside his staff out and, summoning the shadows, formed the figure of an ape. Wrapped in the same rainbow glow as the islander, it covered Einen with its body. Hadjar knew from experience that such a defense was difficult to bypass. It could deal with simultaneous attacks from several creatures of the Pit that were comparable in power to the level of a mid-stage Heaven Soldier.
The wolf’s fangs slammed into the center of the defenses, leaving a trail of snow behind. The ape roared as the wolf made of steel and ice tore at its flesh. Ripping the shadows to shreds, the northerner’s attack, without losing even half of its force, smashed into the rainbow scales. They only held it back for a moment, then cracked. Einen didn’t fly back, however. Still on his feet, he slid along the floor for about three yards until he came to a halt, plunging his spear-staff into the stone. The clothes covering his chest had been torn to shreds. A black, terrible bruise was spreading across it, and blood was running down the corners of his lips.
“You withstood one of my attacks.” Oddly enough, the old man spoke the desert language as fluently as Einen and Hadjar did. “You deserve to know my name. I am Ragar White Wolf.”
When he said ‘White Wolf’, the tattoo on Hadjar’s forearm grew slightly warmer. Just for a moment. Now it was clear how Sankesh’s group had managed to get to the library. Serra had shown them the way, but the trial of the first golem had been intended for those who have a Name. Like Ragar.
“We need a plan,” Hadjar croaked as he approached Einen.
“I don’t think we have time to discuss one!” The islander plunged his staff into the ground in front of him, calling upon all the shadows he could reach.
Ragar struck the ice around him with crushing blows. With each strike, the amount of ice increased. After he had covered a section of the floor that was about forty yards in diameter with ice, each subsequent attack started shooting out ice ‘fists’ that came up from directly beneath Einen’s and Hadjar’s feet. It was like Olgerd’s Technique, but while Olgerd had created fairly chaotic ice spears, Ragar could actually aim. Einen and Hadjar managed to dodge at the last moment, but they couldn’t keep that up forever.
Ragar was toying with them. He smiled. His task was simply to bog down the islander and Hadjar. The former posed no real threat to his konung, and Sankesh wanted to deal with the latter himself. There was no need to kill them right away. Ragar wanted to warm up, and besides, he could observe Arliksha’s fight as well if he drew things out.
“I’ll kill you!” Shakh roared again.
The scar across his face flashed and he threw out his right hand. The dagger in his hand lit up, and three sand dogs charged in. Without any input from Arliksha, the purple spheres floating around her flew toward them. Buzzing like bees and leaving behind a trail of smoke, they began to ram into the dogs’ bodies, but were unable to do even the slightest bit of harm to them.
Shakh’s first attack left a long gash on his opponent’s thigh. Arliksha cried:
“Peacock’s Tail!” As she swung her saber.
It looked as if Arliksha had launched not just one attack, but a dozen. She made little, abrupt movements, which left behind colorful silhouettes of weapons. These silhouettes lengthened and thickened, until a whole fan was soaring through the air toward Shakh.
Shakh managed to erect a sand wall in front of him, which he then entered as if through a door. After the wall was hit, the sand flew everywhere, but the young man was no longer there. The others, however, weren’t so lucky.
With a shrill ‘Kya!’ Sular’s bird, spreading its broad wings out, shielded its friend and master. One of the beams conjured by Arliksha’s Technique twisted around the bird’s neck. A scarlet fountain drenched the silent hermit’s face. Horrified, he watched his best friend die. With a menacing cry, Sular drew his sword and lunged at his opponent, but suddenly stopped. His arms twitched and his weapon clattered to the floor. One of Sankesh’s warriors had managed to place a Technique that looked like a stone spear in front of the distraught Sular. He’d been run through, and he remained impaled there, flailing in agony as he tried to find purchase with his feet.
Kharad, who had seen it all happen, could hardly hold on to his sanity. Alone, with just his sword and his small shield blazing, he was holding back the onslaught of three of Sankesh’s warriors at once.
Arliksha and Shakh’s fight turned into a duel. The tyrant’s daughter no longer hid her aura. The power of a Heaven Soldier pressed down on Shakh. But even that couldn’t stop his furious onslaught.
The remaining six beams Arliksha had conjured scattered across the room. They easily cut through the bookshelves. Hundreds of scraps of paper and parchment swirled in the air. From off to the side, the witches’ cries of despair could clearly be heard even as they tried to save Ramukhan.
Shakh emerged from the sand behind Arliksha, grabbed his dagger in a reverse grip, and slashed at the girl’s back. There was no cry, no blood, only a shower of sparks followed the young man’s swift lunge. The girl had armor beneath her leather suit. The Heaven level artifact had easily blocked Shakh’s quick but not very strong strike. Arliksha, realizing that if it hadn’t been for her artifact, she would now be dead, became enraged. Turning on her heel, she swung her saber with all her might. Her saber, flashing with a pale, pink glow, left a trail behind that looked like a peacock spreading its wings.
The attack was so powerful that it cut into the stone floor, leaving behind gouges several feet deep. Shakh was cut in two as easily as the bookshelves had been. The triumphant smile on Arliksha’s face immediately wilted when, instead of blood… sand poured from Shakh’s body. Then the two halves crumbled, and Shakh, sitting on one of his sand dogs, jumped out from somewhere off to the side.
“Sand Fang!” Shakh shouted.
The dog beneath him dissipated in a cloud of sand, and then, turning into a huge dagger, left another cut behind on his foe’s body. This time, it was on her shoulder. Despite its size, the attack had been so swift that Arliksha had only seen a brown flash. As soon as Shakh touched the sand on the floor, he fell into it.
While Arliksha was trying to get Shakh, Hadjar and Einen were trying to survive.
“Can you do that trick again?” Hadjar asked while once again dodging the ice fist that shot out from beneath him. Einen nodded silently.
“On my mark, then!”
Ragar knew that the practitioners were up to something, but he was dismissive of their efforts. Of course, they were much stronger than anyone at their level he’d fought before, but what could ordinary practitioners do against him…
His next attack, aimed at Hadjar, suddenly… hit its target. The ice fist punched throug
h the swordsman’s chest. For a split second, Ragar looked away from the other battle, surprised. By the time he saw the impaled body disappearing into the shadows, it was already too late.
“Autumn Leaf!” Someone behind him shouted.
Hadjar, emerging from Einen’s shadow, immediately awakened the little dragon within him and attached the black blade to Mountain Wind. He imagined three autumn leaves landing on the Spirit Knight’s back.
Chapter 407
Hadjar launched two attacks. Two blue crescents with black sparks inside them stretched out into sharp ribbons.
Ragar, despite his bulk and impressive muscles, was faster than anyone Hadjar had ever seen. A fighter who was used to fighting with his own hands rather than with weapons had to have enough speed and strength to keep up with a spearman or a swordsman.
The northerner’s hands blurred as the two strikes merged together. He didn’t summon the wolf heads and didn’t use any Techniques. However, there was so much power in his every blow that Hadjar couldn’t block them.
Even if he didn’t have the glittering gauntlets on his hands, Ragar would’ve still been able to defeat Hadjar’s attacks with his bare hands. The crescents, upon impacting his fists, dispersed in a shower of sparks. They flew all around the room, leaving shallow cuts on the walls, floor, and shelves.
“Nice try.” Ragar was reaching with his will for Hadjar’s throat when he sensed danger coming from both above and behind him. The Spirit Knight’s heightened perception allowed him to see the menacing thrust of the spear-staff aimed at his back. Shrouded in shadow, the islander struck with a quick blow that still had enough concentrated power to penetrate even Arliksha’s armor.
From above, taking the form of a writhing dragon, came the sword slash. Had he not witnessed it with his own eyes, Ragar would never have believed that a swordsman of such low level could ever make such an attack.
With an effort of will, the northerner flung Hadjar aside and slammed his fists together. Assuming a low stance, he exhaled sharply. The ice around his feet cracked, and dozens of huge fists shot out simultaneously, aiming to intercept Hadjar’s slash and Einen’s lunge. They mauled the dragon. It disappeared in a black haze, followed by the ghostly sword that had served as its body.
Einen, seeing dozens of ice fists flying toward him, didn’t follow through on his spear thrust, but melted into the shadows instead. For the first time in his life, doing so didn’t save him. Even greatly weakened, having lost both strength and speed, Ragar’s attacks still followed the islander. Hadjar was surprised to see his friend thrown out of the shadows. Einen rolled across the floor, his back slammed against a pillar, and he spat out blood, wheezing.
“You should just wait for the konung to reach the elixir of the gods.” Ragar wasn’t scared of continuing the fight, but he was angry that the pathetic practitioners had been able to catch him off guard. A drop of scarlet blood was rolling down his cheek. One of Hadjar’s attacks had managed to leave a small cut on the northerner’s face. “He ordered me to keep you alive, Darkhan, but he didn’t specify if you had to be whole.”
With a roar, Ragar stamped his foot on the floor. The movement alone made the walls of the library shake. Rocks fell from the distant ceiling, and wolves leapt out of the ice. Seven of them. All of them huge. They had icy fur, and their steel fangs and claws gleamed in the light. They weren’t radiating the power of the northerner’s gauntlets, but his boots instead, and this new power felt superior to Ragar’s previous attacks in some ways.
“Come on!” Hadjar shouted.
He jumped toward Einen. One of the wolves tried to pounce on them. After blurring into a white flash, it suddenly froze. Hadjar had used the ‘Rustle in the Treetops’ Technique, and the wolf was now trying to punch through the sword strike that had a black dragon writhing within.
The six other wolves had almost buried Hadjar and Einen like an avalanche when a firestorm swept toward them.
Hadjar had no idea what Karissa had asked for from List, but it was clearly something impressive. Until recently, the peak of her skill had been the spell that summoned three fire shadows in armor. Now, mounted on armored horses, spears drawn, five fire warriors galloped toward the ice wolves. Behind them, the flames of a veritable firestorm raged.
Karissa herself slid down the wall, exhausted. Her book fell from her hands, and blood ran down her cheeks and out of the corners of her mouth. The witch had used up all her power, putting absolutely everything into this spell.
The fire warriors swept through and trampled the plaintively whining ice wolves. Still, Ragar hadn’t struck with his full might. He couldn’t disobey his konung’s orders and kill Hadjar. The latter, realizing this, shielded Einen, not allowing their enemy to direct all his attacks at the islander.
The fire warriors who had trampled the ice wolves hadn’t suffered many casualties. Instead of the initial five, three warriors came rushing toward Ragar. He met them with punches so devastating that a wave of power radiated from each blow. They crushed the stones of the floor and left deep holes in the walls.
All three riders and their horses were obliterated in an instant. Three explosions blocked Ragar’s view for a moment. When the smoke cleared, a huge spear was flying toward him, sparks dancing along its length. Created from lightning bolts, it released bolts of electricity all around it, which struck the stones, leaving behind deep furrows in them. Scraps of paper and papyrus lit up. The spear struck Ragar, burning the very air in its path.
Ramukhan, like Karissa, was leaning against the wall. He was breathing hard, and yellow sparks were still crackling along his staff.
The northerner held the spell back with a roar. He grasped the shaft of the lightning spear. It tore toward his throat, and he tightened his grip. The spear cracked, lightning bolts surging out. They melted the ice, turning it into lava and boiling water. Clouds of steam rose up. Despite how strong Ramukhan’s spell had been, it hadn’t even managed to hurt Ragar. It wasn’t supposed to…
Unable to release the spear — it would’ve pierced his throat if he had —Ragar saw the ice hammer too late. Having absorbed the vapour, covered in a layer of lava as well, it flashed past him and struck Arliksha in the back.
Tilis, lowering her staff, hoped their plan would succeed. They’d worked it out back when Hadjar had returned from his visit to Sankesh’s camp. Only now did the witch understand why the two foreigners had seemed so confident. They’d had reinforcements with them all along.
Arliksha managed to block the hammer, but then Shakh appeared out of the sand behind her. His daggers flashed. They whizzed through the air and sank into the base of her neck. One subtle movement later, and Shakh was standing over her decapitated body. He held the severed head of Ilmena’s killer by the hair.
Kharad lay behind him, atop the three corpses of Sankesh’s warriors. He had killed them at the cost of his own life. The last warrior standing had managed to run Kharad through with a spear, but he’d grabbed the shaft, pulled the enemy toward him, and then cut off his head. Because he witnessed Shakh’s victory before he died, he went to his ancestors’ home with a happy smile on his face.
***
“Father...” a whisper drifted over to Sankesh.
The man froze for a moment, his whole body tense, but then, without even turning around, he continued to walk forward. His daughter had been too weak to handle simple practitioners. That meant she wasn’t his daughter anymore!
***
In her last moments of consciousness, Arliksha watched her own body twitching in agony. Her thoughts were muddled. A pale, cold mist obscured her vision. Like a little girl, she tried to call out to her father, but was unable to move her lips. The last thing she saw before she died was the look in Sankesh’s eyes. There was no warmth, no sadness, only disappointment and contempt for his daughter’s weakness…
“Arliksha!” Ragar shouted, but it was too late.
The girl’s head, after flying through the air, landed at his feet. The nort
herner looked at the girl he’d loved like his own daughter. He remembered carrying her on his shoulders, showing her how to gather honey, teaching her how to hunt hares and wolves in the snow, how to fight against mountain bears with only a dagger, how to dance and fight, how to sing and brew mead.
“I’ll kill all of you,” a blizzard began to rage around Ragar.
Behind him, the ghostly silhouette of a huge snow wolf appeared. It was only his second time seeing such a thing, but Hadjar knew that when a cultivator summoned their spirit, their powers were tripled.
“I think we need a new plan.”
Einen and Shakh stood on either side of Hadjar. They were mere practitioners, and wounded as well, but now they had to fight and defeat an enraged Spirit Knight.
Chapter 408
Hadjar glanced at the witches and the sorcerer. Fortunately, they were smart enough to move away from the battle. Despite their exhaustion from casting the powerful spells, they were still relatively okay, but they wouldn’t be of any use for the next few hours.
Ragar was trying to regain his focus. At the level of a true cultivator, having control of his emotions was as important as his power. In order to control such vast amounts of energy, not to mention use such horrific Techniques, one had to be in control of themselves. Any cracks in their ‘soul armor’ could lead to not just them wasting power, but them even experiencing backlash from their own power. Arliksha’s death hadn’t just cracked Ragar’s ‘armor’, but torn it to shreds. When Hadjar looked at their foe, he didn’t see a giant brimming with power, but a man bleeding out, the pain of loss nearly overwhelming him. Energy seeped out of the northerner’s soul wounds, spilling like liquid ice onto the stone floor and covering it in a layer of bloody frost. Ragar was already mortally wounded, even before the true fight began, which was the only thing that could help the three practitioners win.
“I’ll cover you,” Einen said in the same calm manner he always had, unchanged even in the face of mortal danger.
Dragon Heart Page 36