Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

  “Aril...” everyone whispered.

  “You miserable wretch!” Roslar roared. “A mere slave dares to challenge me? I don’t know what kind of miracle happened to you and turned you into an actual warrior, but if you think you’re strong enough to fight me, I’ll be glad to help you relearn your place!”

  Roslar drew his battle axes and roared:

  “Giant’s Body!”

  As a practitioner at the Transformation stage, Roslar, after using the Technique after which their village was named, could grow five times larger. Now a thirty-foot giant stood in front of Sankesh.

  “Look at me, slave!” He laughed. “Can you think of anything else I could make enormous?”

  Sankesh roared. His aura of a Heaven Soldier surged out. He pushed off from the stone and charged his foe.

  ***

  Sankesh was sitting on Roslar’s corpse. The snow was red with blood. No residents of the Snow Giant Village had left the celebration alive. Neither had Goonar. Sankesh had killed him after Roslar, for he had given Aisha to him.

  “Sunshine.” Ragar came up to Sankesh and saluted. “What are your-”

  “Where is she?”

  “Where’s who?”

  “Where’s Aisha?”

  Sankesh’s eyes flashed with fury, and all the warriors staggered away. Even Ragar, who was on the verge of becoming a true cultivator himself, backed away.

  “Don’t you know, Sunshine? She’s dead. She died a long time ago, in childbirth. She gave birth to a girl! She begged me to name her Arliksha…”

  Ragar said something else, but Sankesh didn’t hear him. He had died twice before: the first time was when Rahaim had betrayed him. The second — when Roslar had taken Aisha. And now, he had just died a third time.

  The sun was rising in the east. He’d lived to see another dawn. He had succeeded. However, he no longer knew what he was even fighting for.

  Chapter 421

  “Aisha,” Sankesh repeated, clutching the shards. “What have you done, Dragon?”

  Hadjar didn’t understand what was happening. Why had this gigantic, terrifying man suddenly become so small? Sankesh’s skin turned gray. He was withering like a trampled flower, his death imminent.

  “You’ve devoured my sun, Hadjar. My Aisha.” Tears rolled down Sankesh’s cheeks. “All I ever wanted, Hadjar… All I wanted was to create a new world. The world of the strong. A world where no one is weak. If no one is weak, no one can be abused and belittled. No one can take anything away from anyone. There’d be no lies. No deception. A world of equals. A world of the truly happy. A world where no one can separate lovers…”

  Sankesh turned suddenly to Hadjar.

  “Oh, now I see it,” his voice trembled, “now I see…”

  The Shadow of the Immortal had told him that there were two ways for a true cultivator to perish: by being defeated in a deadly battle, or when their path was destroyed, causing their spirit to crack and die.

  Sankesh’s path, the way to his goal, was broken. And now he was fading, and so was the flickering spirit behind him. They were both going back to the World River.

  “Turn around, Dragon. Darkness itself stands behind you!”

  Hadjar turned, but saw no one there but the silent Serra. When he turned back, Sankesh was gone. The shards of the crystal fell to the floor with a clatter. They rolled away from the golden halberd buried in the ground.

  “Okay, we’ll sort that weirdness out later,” Hadjar jumped to his feet and grabbed Serra. “Run.”

  The island was crumbling. Huge chunks of rock tore from the floor under them and fell into the abyss. Hadjar, standing on the edge of one such break, could see the white expanse beneath them. It was approaching fast. When they crossed the cloud line, they would have no chance of escape.

  At the entrance to the library, Hadjar had seen a kind of flying machine. It was too broken and old to actually fly, but it would be possible to glide down in it.

  After only two steps, Hadjar realized that his hand was clutching air. Serra had remained where she was.

  “I’m sorry, Hadjar,” she tried to smile, but tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I can’t go with you.”

  “What nonsense is this?” Hadjar ran to the girl. He grabbed her by the shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. Anything you want to tell me, you can tell me after we get down.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, and spread her palm to strike Hadjar in the chest.

  Hadjar felt a titanic power. It dragged him through a narrow tube of something invisible but indestructible. His vision blurred, and he struggled to inhale some of the air that had been knocked out of his lungs.

  When Hadjar disappeared from the square, Serra turned and walked over to the halberd. The island was collapsing all around her. The stones began to flash. The ancient tree caught fire, lava flowed out the buildings. Serra sat quietly beside the weapon. You needed the Key not just to enter, but also to leave.

  “I’m sorry, little brother.” She picked up a shard of the crystal. There was still a drop of the elixir on it. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

  She blew on it and it disappeared. She closed her eyes and spread her arms, smiling:

  “I’ve always wanted to fly.”

  A moment later, the island, after breaking through the clouds, exploded into a myriad of huge stone fragments. They rained down on the desert.

  ***

  Hadjar regained consciousness because something was biting his leg. Opening his eyes, he beheaded some animal — a mixture of a crocodile and a jackal — with a wave of his hand. The beast had been trying to break through his skin to get to the meat, but its fangs were unable to penetrate the skin of a true cultivator.

  “What the-”

  As was custom, Hadjar didn’t get to finish speaking. The clouds above his head were pierced by thousands of fiery meteoroids. Trailing black smoke behind them, they raced toward the horizon.

  “Serra…”

  At that moment, Hadjar felt a small, yellow drop appear inside his spatial ring.

  “Forgive me, Hadjar,” she said. Hadjar didn’t look around. This sensation was familiar to him. The Shadows of the past had also spoken to him like this. “I’m not a mortal. I’m the Key. I exist to let people in and to then let them out. And now I had to let the past go... The people who created me died a long time ago, and I’m going after them. To the past. I’m glad I got to meet so many good people before I had to leave.”

  Hadjar stared at the fiery comets in silence. The wind ruffled his ragged trousers, and he was still clutching a fragment of Mountain Wind.

  “Rahaim never believed in fate. He thought that he could change mine. Because of that, he lost his wife and son. I know life was unfair to Sankesh. Please don’t blame him for anything. Just remember his story and his mistakes, and when the time comes, and trust me, it will, don’t repeat them.”

  Sankesh’s life flashed through Hadjar’s mind. From the moment he’d seen his father’s blank, uncaring gaze, to the moment Ragar had told him Aisha had died.

  “Please,” Serra’s voice was almost inaudible now, “say goodbye to Rahaim for Sankesh and me. We’ll wait for him. His time will come soon enough.”

  Hadjar frowned.

  “Why does life enjoy giving me impossible tasks?”

  He saw the sultan of the Pearl of the Sands once again, standing on the battlements. There were only a few strands of gray in his hair. Not much time had passed for a true cultivator — only a few centuries — but Rahaim had died a gray-haired, withered old man. The sultan who had sacrificed his son for a golem’s sake. The man who had created a huge library in order to change the fate of a remnant of an ancient civilization. Why had he done all of that?

  A flash of insight struck Hadjar. All the mysteries and secrets that had plagued him and Einen during their journey were finally revealed. It really was that simple…

  Cracking his neck, Hadjar turned and started walking toward Underworld City.

&nbs
p; Chapter 422

  Einen and the others found him three weeks later. As a true cultivator, Hadjar had no particular need for food or water. He could just absorb energy from the World River. Still, he was glad to see some familiar faces and drink some cold water.

  He was less glad about Einen hitting him in the left and then in the right eye. He also learned that the islander could swear just as well as Nero in his prime. Well, that actually made sense, as Einen had been to many ports in his life.

  When he’d advanced to the level of a true cultivator, the blue amulet had disappeared from Hadjar’s hand, which scared the witches and sorcerer. However, Hadjar had no intention of taking revenge.

  After a month’s journey spent listening to the old man’s stories and eating the boy’s tasteless meals, they reached the entrance to Underworld City. The huge mountain dominated the sandy expanse. The way up was easier and more interesting than the descent. Tilis and Karissa cleared a small area at the foot of the mountain. Beneath the sand was a slab of granite covered in ancient runes that glowed faintly. Powering the runes with a small amount of their energy, the witches created a powerful stream of wind. It was strong enough to carry an adult all the way to the high peak.

  It was Hadjar’s second time looking at this mountain peak. It looked like the mouth of some creature (most likely a bird), but the artistry no longer inspired much awe in him.

  “By the Evening Stars, all of you made it back!”

  Hadjar wasn’t surprised to see Paris waiting for them at the entrance. He looked exactly the same as he had on the day they’d departed.

  “We-”

  “Take me to the Sage,” Hadjar interrupted him. “Immediately.”

  Paris didn’t miss the fact that Hadjar didn’t have his blue amulet anymore, or his new aura of a Heaven Soldier.

  “I remember our bargain, Northerner. The Sage himself came out to greet you.”

  Paris stepped aside and an old man emerged from the shadows.

  Einen immediately took a step back and readied his staff-spear. Hadjar just attacked. Leaving behind a dozen afterimages, he reached the Sage in an instant and punched him in the jaw. He hit him with all he had, using all his energy. The shockwave that spread outward after the punch shattered the rocks around them. Huge boulders rained down. Paris and the others, except Einen, were thrown to the floor.

  “What the hell-”

  An imperious wave of the old man’s hand interrupted Ramukhan.

  “I’m glad to see you too, Mad General.”

  The Sage, the leader of Underworld City, the strongest cultivator in the Sea of Sand, a Lord, looked exactly like Rahaim had on the day he’d been killed by Arliksha. Or rather, when she’d killed his golem. The real Rahaim had been born thousands of years before his son could’ve ever imagined.

  ***

  They sat in a secluded room. Rahaim was smoking a hookah. He wore a blue caftan and yellow trousers. A small, sandy pond separated them.

  “I couldn’t help it, Mad General.” Rahaim’s voice was the same as his golem’s had been. “When my wife died, I couldn’t stay in the Pearl any longer, so I came here, to the city my thirst for knowledge had long ago led me to.”

  It was just as Hadjar had suspected. Rahaim was tens of thousands of years old. He’d begun his search for the library of Mage City back when Lidus had been a mere village. True cultivators lived long lives. Very long lives…

  Born in the Pearl, he’d explored every corner of the Sea of Sand until he’d found Underworld City. He’d then become a personal disciple of the Sage at that time, and had even succeeded him after the man’s death. Despite being a Lord, he fell in love with a mere mortal, and he took her back to the Pearl, where they lived happily for half a century. She was able to become a practitioner at the Bodily Rivers level, but that wasn’t enough to save her. She became ill, and even he, a Lord, couldn’t cure her.

  “After she died, I left a golem-clone behind to take my place. It was of the highest quality that the Empire could produce. I gave him three orders: take care of Serra, Sankesh, and gather information about the library.”

  Rahaim exhaled some smoke, and it took the forms of a dragon, knights, and even the sun.

  “I had a vision that one day, a dragon would come and devour the sun. I thought it had something to do with Serra and her homeland, but the girl always told me I was wrong…”

  Hadjar sat across from the man whose son he had killed. However, he didn’t feel at all guilty. If anything, Rahaim was the one responsible for his death.

  “I see that you condemn me for my actions... Maybe you’re right to do so. I’m a fool. I didn’t realize that a golem, no matter how good it was, was only a poor copy. At a critical moment, he made the wrong choice.”

  “But you could’ve gone after him! You were a Lord. Your power was enough-”

  “Enough to do what, Darkhan?” Rahaim’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a Lord, but I’m only at the initial stage. My life is coming to an end. In the Empire, I might not be seen as cannon fodder, but the rumors you’ve heard are all false, Hadjar. Just to give you a little insight into how vast this world truly is — in the Empire, a Lord at the initial stage is held in the same esteem as a senior officer is in Lidus.”

  That bit of news didn’t really shock Hadjar, it only confirmed his assumptions.

  “But enough about me. You’ve come here to learn about the true path of cultivation, and I’m ready to teach it to you.”

  The Sage held out his index finger, and before Hadjar could react, a flash of light shot through his mind. He suddenly saw himself floating above the World River. It suffused everything: matter, all of the ephemeral existences, such as the soul, space, or even time. It was truly omnipresent.

  Suddenly, Hadjar realized that he had simply been absorbing the bestowed energy all this time. However, if the World River truly was one with everything, it was part of him as well, and instead of just absorbing and using it from within, he could control its external manifestations as well.

  Hadjar waved his hand, trying to form a stream of wind in front of him, but immediately experienced such a searing pain that he instantly passed out. It took five minutes for him to regain consciousness.

  “I thought as much,” Rahaim said. “The first time I saw you in person, here in the Pit, I felt an imbalance in your spirit. I don’t know when it happened or why, but your soul, Hadjar, is not whole. The fact that you became a true cultivator before you had knowledge of the true path only added to it. I’m afraid you’re incapable of using the true path of cultivation.”

  “The true path,” Hadjar snorted, rubbing the back of his head. “Fuck that shit!”

  “I understand your skepticism,” the Sage smiled. “Those who begin cultivating with inner energy are always outwardly stronger than those who use the outer energy. But I’ll tell you this much: only one who merges the two energies, combining both paths, can reach the level of the Lord. That’s why we’re called Lords, we are masters of our own power, not borrowing it or limited by it.”

  Hadjar was upset. The Lord level seemed like an unattainable pinnacle to him right now, but in his heart, he hoped that, one day, he would be able to…

  “Don’t despair.” The Sage picked up a stick and a jug. He poured water on the sand, and then traced a winding path in the muddy sand. “Sometimes, the one who follows a new path reaches the goal earlier than the one who follows the well-trodden route.” He moved the stick a second time, drawing a straight line that brought the water to its destination much sooner than the winding one.

  “What do you mean, Rahaim?”

  “There are no legends in this world, and believe me, I know a lot of them, but even so... there are no legends that tell of a man with an incomplete soul.”

  Well, Hadjar wasn’t one to boast about his uniqueness. Especially when that uniqueness was akin to a disability.

  “Thanks for the lesson.” Hadjar nodded and got up.

  “Stay, General. Become my discipl
e. Together, we can-”

  “No thanks,” Hadjar said curtly, “I don’t respect you.”

  Rahaim’s eyes flashed for a moment, but then his anger turned into resignation.

  “And yet, I haven’t fulfilled our bargain. A reward has been promised in exchange for your adventure.”

  Hadjar had no doubt that the medallion which Ramukhan had never taken off and had given to Paris as soon as they’d arrived was a spatial artifact. According to Einen, he’d been unconscious long enough for the sorcerer and the witches to delve into the books and scrolls. Shakh kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t spoken to them at all in the two months they’d spent in Underworld City.

  “I know you’re looking for information about the Land of the Immortals.”

  Hadjar arched his right eyebrow.

  “Paris told me what books you took. Don’t blame him. He acted on my direct order. I also know you want to join a school in the Empire. I’ve lived a long life, Hadjar, a very long life, and I’ve have managed to cultivate many good acquaintances. Among them is a master at the ‘Holy Sky’ school. It’s the best school in the Empire. It’s located in the capital. I’m sure you’ll find information about the Land of the Immortals there. After all, their library is so vast that even the library of Mage City seems insignificant in comparison.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I could write you a letter of recommendation, but, alas, they are very strict about who they will accept into the school. Only those who have reached the level of a true cultivator before the age of sixteen are eligible to take part in the examination.”

  Hadjar’s heart skipped a beat. Without a recommendation letter, he would only be allowed to take part in the examination of ordinary disciples. But with it, it was possible to become a disciple of the inner circle.

  “Well, write two letters, then, for me and Einen.”

  With those parting words, he turned and walked away. He knew the islander had a secret as well. His inhuman, purple eyes were definitely a sign of something more lurking beneath the surface. Passing the age test wouldn’t be much of a problem for either of them.