Stone Will

by Kirill Klevanski

  The blue, sharp sword tip plunged into the soldier's stomach. Scarlet sparks flared up and the soldier's chain mail proved to be too fragile to stop the strike.

  The soldier shuddered violently. He saw a gray shadow.

  Hadjar, after moving a step back, slid forward once again, creating a small tornado of leaves in his wake.

  He moved to the side, flicked his wrist, and swung the blade upward. The two halves of a once whole and foolish soldier fell to the ground, watering it with his blood.

  The two remaining soldiers took hold of their weapons’ handles more tightly and began to surround Hadjar from different sides. All of this happened in absolute silence.

  Hadjar, standing between them, didn’t pay any attention to the bloody rain drenching his face and hands. He turned toward the swordsman, turning his back to the ax-wielding soldier.

  He gave in to the temptation.

  Ready to cut Hadjar down, he took a step forward. And that was the last step he ever took.

  Hadjar turned and, arching his back as he did so, swung his sword.

  The ax whistled past, over his head, colliding with and deflecting the enemy’s blade. A ghostly slash flew out from Hadjar's sword.

  The soldier couldn’t comprehend why his feet seemed like they’d been covered in boiling water, and he suddenly became somewhat shorter.

  Lowering his gaze, he saw his feet lying off to the side, then he fell onto his back.

  He died quickly after the second strike pierced his chest and tore through his heart.

  Hadjar and the swordsman were left alone.

  Thrown back by his ally’s vicious attack, the soldier hit a tree, which was the only thing that saved him from falling. He immediately put up his sword defensively in front of himself, waiting for the retaliatory attack from Hadjar. But he was just twirling his blade in order to cleanse it of blood. Then, once again, he began to whirl around in a spiral. Like a hungry predator toying with defenseless prey.

  Sweating, the soldier cursed the night he’d agreed to carry out this mission for the General's son, for a few measly gold coins, at that.

  ‘He’s a simple hillbilly…’ ‘Just a sucker with a sword…’ Colin had claimed.

  And what did the soldier see in front of him right now?

  Eyes that were blue, clear, and full of rage, staring at him intently. He saw something terrifying that looked like it would devour his very soul, not a mere man!

  Swinging his sword, he launched a mad attack comparable in its desperation to the last leap of a hunted tiger.

  Hadjar held his breath and assumed a low stance. He swung the blade five times but did it so quickly that few would have seen anything more than a blurry shadow and a blade glistening in the light of the full moon.

  Five ghostly, almost ethereal slashes broke through his opponent’s guard… And then broke his opponent.

  The soldier hadn’t been able to reach his target. At first, he squinted and began to fall toward the left. Then he saw his own hand flying off in front of him, clutching his sword. The last scene his eyes witnessed was the body lying on the ground. His body. Which he’d seen from above.

  Hadjar cleared the blood off the blade with another wave, and the next moment, the head of the dismembered soldier fell to the ground.

  It may have taken a while to describe, but the tornado of leaves hadn't even fallen yet by the time Hadjar was putting his blade back in its sheath.

  He’d moved as smoothly as a swan rising into the sky and faster than a predatory cat when it pounced on prey.

  He came over to the first of the defeated enemies and sat back on his heels. He examined the body (or rather, its remaining halves) and found a miraculously intact coin pouch. Untying the ribbon holding it closed, Hadjar found two gold and several silver coins. He found approximately the same amount in the pouches of the other attackers as well.

  Now, taking into account the officer's pay he also received regularly, he had almost ten gold coins at his disposal. That would be enough to buy a house in a village, along with a sizeable, arable field.

  “Now I’ll be able to master the second volume much faster,” Hadjar muttered to himself, calculating how much money would be left after he bought all the necessary ingredients.

  It turned out that the coins he’d taken off his slain foes weren’t going to be enough for his needs. Hadjar, to get everything required to use the second volume of the ‘Mountain,’ would need about... the same amount of money he had available. Maybe even more than that. And he couldn’t even get a loan if he did need more.

  He sighed heavily and shook his head. Even such simple resources, in this world, were much more expensive and rarer than gold.

  “I wonder… How did you find me?”

  Hadjar examined the bodies once more but found nothing on them. They only had ragged, clearly taken from someone else, clothes, along with the standard army weapons, and... Nothing else.

  Suddenly, Hadjar understood. He had nothing much on him, either. Cheap, worn robes, a piece of rope instead of a belt, and sandals tied with a cheap cloth. He looked just like the day he’d come to enlist. Except for one thing. The medallion that now hung around his neck.

  Hadjar removed the trinket. It showed that he had a little less than fifty Honor points.

  The answer had been in front of him the whole time.

  How had the senior officer known where Nero had been and how had the city guard found him? It was unlikely that the guy had been running around the brothel and shouting that he'd hurt his fellow soldiers. Not a single messenger would have had enough time to get back to camp. Well, one would assume that they would’ve had to run back to the camps, but even then, they would’ve needed a direct command…

  “Ah, so that's why you need the locket?” Hadjar smiled, placing the trinket back around his neck.

  All this time, he hadn’t just been wearing an “achievement counter”, but also a “beacon” of sorts. It was a magical device intended for tracking. Local officials were craftier than he’d given them credit for - it was quite a convenient system. It probably decreased the number of deserters in the army as well.

  After a few weeks of wearing it, Hadjar had, for the most part, forgotten about the medallion. The people who had been serving for more than one year had probably already gotten used to it. Why had the soldiers taken off their lockets, going into the woods? They had obviously been forced to do so.

  And who better than an adjutant to know all about the various properties of these trinkets? An adjutant probably also had access to a tracking device for the lockets, whatever that may be.

  “So, Colin, you most likely already know about this incident…” Hadjar mulled things over.

  The adjutant had certainly already run to the General and was dragging her over to see Dogar. What a war crime. Killing fellow soldiers. Hadjar wasn't going to be shackled as Nero had. No, he'd be sold into slavery at best. And the money would be given to... well, ideally, to the families of the dead men. In reality, the greedy hands of the bureaucrats would take 90% of it for themselves.

  “So, you set a trap for me and I got caught in it?”

  Hadjar chuckled.

  Trying to trap a former circus freak and brothel worker? Ha! Hadjar knew tricks that Colin hadn’t even heard of!

  And yet, Hadjar had been right about one thing. The adjutant, General, and a few soldiers in armor were already heading toward Dogar's camp.

  Chapter 42

  “Senior officer Dogar!”

  The General entered the tent. She looked the same as when Hadjar had seen her that first time. Her tight braid was as thick as Dogar's wrist. She was dressed in half-armor—an iron skirt and gloves. Except for this time she hadn’t brought a spear.

  But, given the late hour, it became clear that the General hadn’t yet gone to bed. Apparently, she had been preparing for the War Council or had been engaged in something equally important.

  “Dogar!” Colin entered the tent behind her, the w
arriors trailing after him.

  He looked sleek and polished, wearing white robes belted with a wide, silk ribbon. He looked like one of those rich men who spend all of their evenings in the best taverns and restaurants in the city. Not like a soldier or a warrior of the army.

  The armored warriors following the General looked completely different.

  Still, Hadjar was glad to see Colin's smile wither. The “armored lady” seemed to stumble over her words. Well, who could blame them?

  Who knew what they’d expected to see, but it clearly hadn’t been the scene in front of them right now.

  In addition to Dogar and Hadjar, the twenty best warriors from the group were also in the tent. Each of them, without any exaggeration, was worth a dozen ordinary soldiers. And, apparently, they looked so intimidating that the General's bodyguards began to unsheathe their swords.

  “Stop,” the lady said quietly, and the soldiers immediately returned their blades to their sheaths.

  She looked at Dogar. The General looked like Thumbelina compared to the bear of a man. Fragile and defenseless. But the mighty Dogar wilted slightly under her gaze. A fierce determination and great power radiated from it.

  “My General,” the senior officer knelt and punched his chest with a meaty fist, saluting her.

  The rest of the people did the same. Well, except for the three dissected corpses on the floor who couldn't really salute their General. Admittedly, they weren’t able to do anything right now.

  Being dead usually had that effect on people.

  “What is the meaning of this, Dogar?” the General asked, allowing everyone to get back up.

  “General, my assistant, officer Hadjar, stumbled upon a group of nomad scouts while hunting in the woods.”

  Colin, who had already begun to say something, decided to remain silent.

  The General walked over to the bodies. She calmly bent over the corpses and inspected their faces and bodies. It looked strange to Hadjar since various images from the past world were still fresh in his memory.

  “They don't look like nomads…” the General stood up and looked at Hadjar.

  The young officer withstood her gaze, despite the power behind it. His father had used to look at him the same way, many years ago, when he was being too naughty. And the power of the King had been enough to make stone statues kneel in front of him.

  “Officer Hadjar!”

  Only after being directly addressed did Hadjar fall to one knee and put his fist to his heart.

  “My General,” he responded, with genuine respect.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Yes, General.”

  Hadjar straightened up and told her everything. Down to the smallest detail.

  He had gone to the forest to hunt. Then he’d followed the trail of the Black Wolf. He’d thought luck was on his side. The wind was blowing in his face, and the beast itself was engaged in the pursuit of game. Hadjar had followed the trail, but three men blocked his path. Two with an ax. One with a sword. All of them had been at the level of the Bodily Rivers, no less than the eighth or seventh stage.

  “You managed to beat three warriors at the eighth stage of the Bodily Rivers by yourself?” Colin snorted. “I remember you were only in the first stage three weeks ago.”

  “Adjutant,” the General cut in, the warning clear in her tone.

  “But…”

  “Adjutant!”

  Colin sighed and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He wasn't going to argue with the commander. While he didn't think that the crazy girl was worth scraping off the sole of his boot, it was still too early for him to make his move. No one knew what could happen during their battle with the nomads... Generals often died in battle and new, stronger, more determined and decent people would then take their place.

  His father had taught him that.

  “Go on, officer Hadjar.”

  “Yes, General.”

  First, he killed the lanky guy who’d wielded an ax. Hadjar pointed at the two halves of his body. He demonstrated the deadly attack for everyone. However, he had to restrain his ghost blade so it wouldn’t ruin the tent, which was now fairly crowded. There were a lot more people stuffed inside it than had originally been planned for.

  Then there were two more men left. He killed them. It ended quickly.

  As soon as Hadjar had cleared the blood off his blade, he immediately tied a rope around the bodies and carried them over.

  He showed the General the bloodstained rope.

  “And we were about to come to see you, my General,” Hadjar continued. “When you yourself came to us. Have you already been told about the nomad scouts?”

  The General shifted her gaze from Hadjar to his sword, and then to the corpses.

  “Dogar,” she said.

  “Yes, General.”

  “Let your people go and get some sleep. I’ve seen your training, they're gonna need a lot of strength tomorrow.”

  The Bear turned to his subordinates. They were staring at the soldiers behind the petite lady. Yes, she was their General. Yes, they respected her immensely and would die on the battlefield for her if she demanded it of them. She'd led them through such terrible victories and battles that many couldn’t even comprehend it.

  But who’d made them strong and powerful? They were feared and respected by the entire army. Who had made that happen?

  Dogar.

  He stood a step above the General, and even the King, in the eyes of these warriors.

  “You heard your General! Go to bed! Double training tomorrow!”

  “Yes, sir!” the warriors thundered and, marching in unison, shaking the very earth, exited the tent.

  Each of them shot an unambiguous glance at the General's bodyguards before disappearing into the night.

  There was more space in the tent, but Hadjar still didn’t dare to breathe in deeply. He could smell the armored soldiers. They had been sweating far too much as the two dozen elite heroes walked past them.

  “It would seem that a bandit gang had appeared in our forests.” The General said, adjusting her gorgeous hair. “Adjutant Colin.”

  “Yes... my General.”

  “I want you to form a team and scour the southern edge of the forest. Move out tomorrow after the War Council and come back the day before the march.”

  “But this... officer,” Colin literally spat out the last word, “killed the bandits in the north!”

  The silence hung heavy in the tent.

  “With all due respect, General,” Hadjar bowed. “I didn't mention that I’d encountered them up north.”

  “Thank you, officer,” the General nodded. “I don't remember that either. You're leaving tomorrow, adjutant. That is my direct order.”

  Colin stared blankly at the commander for a second, then let out a loud snarl. If he’d had the chance, he would’ve slammed the door behind him. But there were no doors on the tent, so he just waved his hands around so hard that he ripped off one of the canopies.

  Hadjar mentally showed the adjutant one of his most rude gestures. Well, he could’ve shown it for real, as well, because no one would’ve known what it meant. But that would’ve been rude to do in front of a lady.

  “Three of them…” the General sighed sadly. “Did they have any money on them, officer?”

  Hadjar handed her the three bags of gold and silver coins silently.

  “I expect these coin pouches to be handed over to their families,” the lady said suddenly.

  Dogar and Hadjar looked at each other.

  “They don’t look like bandits at all. They look like my soldiers.”

  “My General!” Dogar and Hadjar immediately collapsed to their knees.

  Who would’ve thought that she was so insightful?

  “Stand up, officers,” the fatigue was plain in the lady's voice. “I hope that after the battle against the nomads, my adjutant will be promoted and become the General of another Royal army.”

  Well, there we
re several such armies and generals in the country. Hadjar served in the Northern, and there were also the Southern, Eastern, Western, Central and numerous Fort garrisons, which were all ruled by generals.

  “Good night, officers. I'll be waiting for you at the War Council tomorrow, Dogar.”

  “My General,” the senior officer bowed. “Let me bring my assistant along.”

  The General looked at Hadjar.

  “It's up to you,” she said, leaving the tent, then paused for a moment. “Twenty Honor points, officer Hadjar, that's all I can do for you. A soldier in his own camp should feel safe and it is the General's task to ensure he does... Twenty points…”

  Then she left.

  Hadjar handed Dogar the bags of money. He put them in a trunk and promised to personally make sure their families received them.

  He and Hadjar were decent people.

  They weren't like the greedy officials. Children could end up starving because of Colin's and the soldiers' stupidity. No one wished to subject them to such a fate.

  Hadjar left his superior’s tent and went over to his own. Along the way, he saw the General, standing by herself in the camp. She was looking up at the sky and thinking about something.

  Oh, God. She was so beautiful.

  But neither lust nor other, more tender feelings were evident in Hadjar's gaze. Only immense respect. He now understood why two million soldiers revered her so much. She was a real General. And soon enough, he would have the opportunity to see her in battle.

  Chapter 43

  The entire camp knew that a War Council was going on in the General's marquee. Therefore, the situation was extremely tense. There was almost no conversation or laughter. No one sang or danced around the fires.

  People walked around with grim expressions on their faces. Many of the soldiers were cleaning their armor or sharpening their weapons with abandon. Someone tried to forget about it by distracting themselves with training or, if they were at a high stage of cultivation, by immersing themselves in meditation.