“I don’t know. Herd. Deer. I’m thinking.”
There was no democracy in the group. Only harsh totalitarianism—what the leader of the hunt commanded was carried out. They had no time or desire to argue.
Finally, Robin punched his open palm three times.
This signal meant “Getting started”.
The hunters moved from a ‘gallop’ to a ‘light trot’. They took their bows off their shoulders and nocked arrows. Looking alert, they moved strictly downwind of the herd. Armed with one of the darts, Hadjar followed them.
The farther north they went, the more clearly Hadjar could hear the sound of falling water.
“Tree. Crown. Scout,” Robin showed. He pointed to Hadjar and they climbed a tall, deciduous tree. It was almost as tall as a ten-story house.
After getting through the thick crown, the Prince turned his face toward the east wind. Taking a moment to enjoy himself, feeling refreshed, he opened his eyes and nearly fell.
Not because of the vast expanse of the valley that was covered in thick vegetation. The endless sea of green was lined with blue veins—a huge number of streams and rivers.
Some of them formed waterfalls that plunged into ponds and lakes, then ran farther down until they merged into a single, enormous body of water. Billions of tons of water fell onto a huge giant that was embracing the waterfall.
“Dead” the smiling Robin signaled immediately.
“Who?”
The old man tried to show him something, then waved his hand and got as close as possible to Hadjar.
“The ancient titan,” he said in a whisper. “The Lord of this valley. The legends say that he was once so powerful that he lifted a mountain with one hand and threw it into the sky, where it remains to this day. And below, he created our valley.”
“The one where you hunt?”
The old man smiled.
“The one where our Kingdom is located, and more besides.”
Hadjar looked at the ancient creature again. He noticed that it had turned to stone long ago. The legend was most likely untrue, but the giant, who was the size of the famous tower in Dubai, still inspired awe.
“Look” Robin signaled, pointing at something.
In the meadows on the edge of the forest, a herd of deer grazed. You could only ever see such beasts in pictures. They were all mighty and stately, much larger than their ‘ordinary’ relatives.
The weakest ones were still a higher level than Robin.
The fallow deer were beautiful. Slender and graceful, they looked like arrows that had been shot from a bow.
Robin came down first, followed by Hadjar.
“Herd. Ours. The first—scare.” Robin signaled as briskly as if he were speaking the sign language from Earth. At the same time, he drew something on the ground with an arrowhead. “They’ll run. We’ll cut off. Old ones. Weak ones. Don’t disturb the Alpha.”
With a glance, the old man ‘asked’ the people around him if everything was clear. The hunters responded with quick nods.
Robin jabbed his finger at Hadjar.
“Look. Stay close.” That was an order that Hadjar didn’t intend to disobey.
The old man took out a bundle from the ‘first-aid kit’ and handed it to the guy with the scar on his face, who moved the fabric aside to reveal a small, shimmering stone. It was too big and too... alive agate.
Hadjar felt the potent energy emanating from the stone.
It wasn’t the same as the one in the air, but it was still energy.
Having tied the strange object around an arrow, the scarred man, Iry, who had also been the one to find the herd, ran ahead.
After patiently waiting for the wind to change direction, he came out of the bushes and fired the arrow. It flew at least five hundred yards and landed next to the herd. The deer with the best senses raised their heads but didn’t smell anything. Iry had already hidden in the foliage.
Hadjar looked inquiringly at the old man, but he wasn’t paying attention to the newcomer. After a couple of minutes, something in the meadow growled. Hadjar’s heart sank, even if he wasn’t afraid.
The ghostly figure of a gigantic wolf appeared from the stone that had been tied to the arrow.
Damn! It was the size of a house, and its aura was the same as the Imperial Governor’s!
The Wolf-Leader, whose spirit the hunters had called forth, snarled and rushed at the deer. Fleeing from its ghostly fangs, they rushed toward the forest immediately, where the hunters were waiting for them.
The Wolf-Leader growled for just a couple more moments. His spirit disappeared after two heartbeats, but the frightened deer were still running frantically toward the safety of the forest and hills.
“In the eyes!” Robin signed.
Climbing up onto the tree branches, the hunters began to fire one arrow after another. The herd, mad with fear, ran farther and farther without noticing that some of them were falling behind.
The oldest and weakest ones.
The well-aimed shots took them down easily. None of the arrows missed their mark. Every single one hit them exactly in the eyes.
The hunters loosed their arrows calmly. They used their sturdy, heavy bows skillfully and with practiced ease. The bows were small but still required enough strength to use that not every royal archer would’ve been able to fully pull them back.
When ten deer fell to the ground, Robin raised his fist, signaling for everyone to stop.
There was no point in killing more deer than they could safely carry back to the village. And it could also attract...
Suddenly, a human cried out, and the place where Iry had been sitting in ambush erupted in a column of fire 6 feet tall and 2 feet wide. Hadjar had to close his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, he saw a gigantic deer towering over the burnt remains of Iry. It was seven feet at the withers. His majestic horns were adorned with the roaring, scarlet flame.
The Beast was at the Alpha Stage, and he had come to avenge the fallen members of his herd.
“Look out!” Robin shouted, but it was too late.
The rest of the deer, apparently obeying their Alpha’s ‘orders’, had surrounded the clearing. They lowered their horns and stood fast, ready to impale anyone brave enough to try and get past their barrier.
Who are the hunters here? Hadjar asked himself, as he shifted his grip on the dart he was holding. Doesn’t look like it’s us...
Chapter 26
Without hesitation, Robin shot three arrows at once. Well, not literally at once, of course, he still released them one by one. Each of them was aimed at vital areas—the beast’s eyes and heart.
Snorting, the deer stomped. Three fireballs coalesced from the flame circling around its horns. They evaporated the old man’s arrows as they flew forward.
“Move!” He shouted and pushed Hadjar away.
The fireballs crashed into a tree, burning several holes through it. With a loud bang, the leafy giant teetered and then collapsed. Right on Robin’s leg.
He roared like a wounded bison.
“Run!” He shouted, the pain clear in his voice.
But none of the hunters moved to do so. Instead, each of them loosed two arrows. The forty arrows flying at the deer at once hid it from Hadjar’s view.
The Prince hoped that this was enough to bring down the Alpha. But it had other plans.
The deer reared up and then sent the entire column of fire outward. It burned through all the arrows and kept going. Some of the hunters didn’t take cover fast enough and now their scorched remnants lay on the ground.
Someone let loose a cry full of pain and despair. Dart in hand, a young man jumped forward, lunging toward the beast frantically. Hadjar recognized him. It was one of Iry’s three brothers.
Turning around, the deer struck the man’s chest with its back legs.
The force of the impact doubled the man over and sent him flying. He hit a stone that was five yards away with a horrific crunch. A fountain of blood erup
ted from his throat.
The dead body twitched a little and then stilled.
A heavy silence descended on the clearing.
The deer snorted as it looked at the terrified people surrounding it. Rearing up again, it shook the earth with a powerful stomp and the horned beasts began to move inexorably toward the center.
Watching as the hunters shot arrows and burned in the fire, Hadjar couldn’t understand it.
He couldn’t understand why he was standing still!
With a loud hoot, he threw one of his darts. It flew like a stone launched from a sling, but that wasn’t enough to break through the barrier of fire.
“Damn it!” Hadjar swore, watching as one more hunter fell to the ground.
The cries of the man, powerless against the Alpha’s flame, echoed in Hadjar’s head.
“Run!” He barely heard Robin’s voice through the noise.
The old man looked at the Prince with a sad, regretful look. At that moment, Hadjar realized which fire had killed Robin’s son and why he’d been so glad that they’d come across the herd of deer.
The old man wanted revenge...
Gripping his last dart tightly, Hadjar paused to steady himself before throwing it. He knew that he wasn’t accurate. In training, he’d been able to hit a coin with a sword, while standing three steps away. Of course, he’d been using a sword then, not a dart.
Suddenly, Hadjar remembered an image he’d all but forgotten.
The Master, standing before his ‘disciples’. He was armed with only a stick, but, nevertheless, could’ve used it at a level far beyond Hadjar’s capabilities.
The Prince looked at the dart in his hand once again.
It wasn’t a sword. However, that didn’t matter. He was about to face his death. The important thing was that he did so with his head held high. Bravely. No chickening out. No hiding or screaming.
His name was Hadjar Duran.
He had spent ten years dreaming about finding a cure.
He had found it.
Many people had sacrificed their lives to help him.
He wouldn’t allow this beast with fiery horns to end his life! He didn’t care about what his weapon was—a sword or a dart, it was all the same. As long as he could hear the call of the wind, he would keep fighting.
Hadjar pulled an iron arrowhead out of a nearby nest. Then he used it to whittle at the dart, shaping it.
Holding the stem of the dart, he calmly stepped out in front of the deer. He heard Robin’s desperate shouts in the background.
The closer Hadjar got to the enemy, the more he felt the heat of the flame. With each step forward, the beast seemed to become larger and more menacing.
The Alpha snorted, and the other deer stopped approaching. It’s important to note that, at the Alpha stage, the beast had sufficient intelligence, even if it wasn’t as smart as a human, to realize what was happening.
Perhaps, after another thousand years, the deer would’ve progressed further along the path of cultivation and been able to speak, but luck hadn’t been on its side.
It had been unfortunate enough to come across a strange, two-legged monster.
Hadjar’s eyes, as blue as the cloudless sky, didn’t show an inkling of fear, only his resolve, and an all-consuming fury. And so, the Alpha, upon noticing the look of a worthy opponent, took a step back, startled.
Realizing that it had just shown it was afraid, the deer reared up and sent four fireballs at Hadjar.
“Duke Velen, Earl Vaslia, Primus, the Governor, Viscount…” Hadjar whispered the only prayer he knew.
The prayer that he’d come up with. It was his battle cry.
He wouldn’t let some deer get between him and justice.
He hadn’t gotten to bury his parents yet. He hadn’t found his sister.
It was too early for Hadjar to die.
The fireballs left a heat haze in their wake as they flew toward Hadjar. The hunters were shouting about something, but Hadjar paid them no mind. His homemade sword didn’t waver.
Making it look effortless, he dived under the first and then avoided the second fireball. He turned on his heel, skipping over the third one and, barely swinging the dart, struck with the sword. It was weak, not even ghostly—a barely perceptible gust of wind. But it was enough to cut the fireball in half.
Hadjar let the two halves of the fireball pass by him, on either side.
His heart was racing.
His blood boiled. He could fight again. He could breathe again. After so long, he was alive again.
His blue eyes lit up and the deer howled with rage and fear.
The beast lowered its head and launched a burst of fire as wide as the torso of an adult man from its horns. It was the most powerful attack it was capable of.
Hadjar crouched slightly and then suddenly rushed forward. He vanished into thin air, leaving only a black mark behind, leaping over the flames with perhaps an inch of clearance, and feeling his chainmail heating up. He held on to his sword tightly, and when he landed in front of the deer, he swung upward with his ‘blade’ while straightening his body.
The hunters, who couldn’t believe that a man was capable of moving so smoothly and quickly at the same time, thought that they’d heard a roar accompanying the sword strike.
The hunters and silent deer both felt the blood freeze in their veins upon hearing that roar.
It was the roar of a dragon.
The wounded Alpha ran back toward the forest, leaving the meadow covered in its blood. It had been foolish to hope that a practitioner whose cultivation was at the Bodily Nodes stage would be able to defeat an Alpha. But he’d been able to hurt it; hurt it and scare it off.
The nearby people had only heard the roar of a Lord of the Heavens, but the beast had seen the Lord itself. It had seen the flame of power behind those deep, blue eyes and had felt the fang lurking in the sword strike. A fang that could cleave mountains in two.
The other deer ran away, following after their leader.
Exhausted, Hadjar slowly lay down on the grass. He spread his arms out to the side and stared at the boundless sky. The ‘sword’ in his hand crumbled into dust, unable to withstand the force that had been channeled through it.
“Duke Velen, Earl Vaslia, Primus, the Governor, Viscount…” he repeated, almost inaudibly, and closed his eyes.
He didn’t even have enough strength left to breathe. But he could still hear the mighty serpent growling somewhere in the depths of his chest, near his heart.
Chapter 27
Hadjar awoke with a shout and reached for his sword. Instead, he grabbed someone’s wrinkled hand and not the makeshift blade he’d wielded previously.
“I'm too old to fall for such tricks, stranger,” a hoarse, raspy voice told him.
The Prince turned his head; amber eyes stared back at him. He was tied up, lying in a large bed in the living room of a rather impressive house. In any case, this room was far more spacious than Robin’s entire house had been.
The old woman was sitting by the bed, slathering a fragrant, green goo on his burns. She looked like any other forest witch—fat, with a sharp nose, wearing clean, well-kept clothes with visible patches on them.
There was a wardrobe filled with numerous clay jars behind the sorceress. Hadjar saw a variety of medicines he was familiar with inside the wardrobe, marked with the familiar hieroglyphs.
The Prince inhaled the odor of the goo, recognizing the sharp, slightly putrid smell.
[Swamp Ointment. Healing properties: low]
“Is that Swamp Ointment?” He asked.
The witch looked up. He shivered slightly at her glance.
She was a kind of stereotypical forest ‘witch.’
“What’s your name, smartass?” The old woman asked him, speaking clearly and precisely, unlike the other villagers.
”Hadjar.”
She just shook her head.
“Your name is too dangerous these days.”
She was obvio
usly not one of the natives. And her house was situated on the outskirts, outside the village stockade.
“Is your name Gnessa?”
“You’re a quick-witted one.” Despite her age, the healer’s movements were strong and quick. She easily bandaged his hands and right thigh. “How do you know about the ointment?”
Hadjar stared at the old woman for a while. She finished bandaging his burns, got up and walked over to the wardrobe, where she put away the rest of the ointment. It was a rather rare medicine. It would be possible to buy a horse in the city for a tenth of what Gnessa had just stored.
Scholars manufactured all of the healing concoctions, and there were a lot fewer of them than the practicing warriors. Learning how to do it took too long and was too difficult.
“My teacher told me about it.” Hadjar had no reason to lie.
“Teacher?” Gnessa was wiping her hands with a rag towel as she spoke. “Did the river bring you here?”
“How did you guess?”
The witch smiled. She came over to a homemade table (to be fair, everything there was homemade) and picked up a bowl of delicious soup. She handed it, along with a spoon, to Hadjar, and then sat down again.
“It brought me here, too. It’s brought many people to this and the other villages in the valley. Sometimes, I even think that it takes away those who have been rejected by the outside world: the runaways, the poor, the ones with broken hearts. They are healed here.” Gnessa looked out the window and smiled at the midday sun. “The Forest heals them.”
That's right—the word ‘Forest” was written with a capital letter. She’d pronounced the word ‘Forest’ with a lot more respect than the natives had.
Hadjar touched his chest. It was hard to argue with the sorceress; his heart really had been broken.
“I won’t ask you to be my disciple,” she said suddenly. “You have another fate, stranger Hadjar, one tied to wielding a sword.”
She looked at him so pointedly that only an idiot wouldn’t have understood— the wise woman knew. But, how…
”The merchant told me about it many times, years ago,” she said, answering his unasked question. “And then Lida came back one day, saying that the river had brought a newcomer… Then two worn out hunters came out of the forest with a wild story. Iry and his brothers were dragged back in body bags. We asked the hunters what had happened and they... They told us about the Alpha, about the heroism of the stranger. And, of course, you and Robin were carried back to me on stretchers.”
Stone Will Page 17