After climbing up the cliff, they threw their hoods over their heads. Not because of the rain, but in order to blend in with the cliff’s surface.
The top of the cliff was twelve miles away, but the nomads would hardly have climbed all the way up there. They were most likely on the plateau—an oasis in the country of solid stone.
The two men crawled there silently. A few hours later, they reached the slopes. On the way to the plateau, they’d noticed several large nomad outposts. Too large.
When they reached one of the ridge peaks, near the plateau, they saw a huge plain covered with grass and a few low trees. It was difficult to understand what was going on below them because of the noise the rain and storm were making.
Fortunately, they’d brought some useful things with them from the camp.
Nero took out a telescope from his pocket and, covering it with a hand, studied everything intently. After a flash of lightning illuminated everything, he whispered, cursing in surprise. “Demons and gods… What the hell?”
Nero handed the telescope to his friend.
Hadjar pressed it to his right eye and peered through the dull, cracked glass.
Lightning flashed and Hadjar cursed as well.
There, on the plateau, among the fires, was not only a sea of grass but also of herds, horses, and tents. Hundreds, thousands, probably a hundred thousand!
“How many nomads are they expecting?” Nero asked, taking the telescope back and inspecting the darkness.
“Three hundred thousand. Maybe even half a million.”
Nero swore.
“I wonder what they’ll say about the five fucking million down below.”
Right now, on the plateau, according to their most modest estimates, there was an army of at least four and a half million people. And at least one-tenth of them were horse archers.
Damn it. Damn it.
He decided to use the neuronet:
Analysis of the structure underway...
The calculation in progress... The calculation is finished...
The total number, with a margin of error at 0.05%
4,127,203 objects are present which are comparable to the host in their structure
Never before had isolated nomadic tribes gathered into such an enormous horde. They’d usually sent around two hundred thousand at most, rarely more. Lidus had always sent a numerically superior army in response, inflicting a crushing defeat on the enemy and making them hesitate to come back for at least five years.
But now... More than four million nomad fighters were there. With four hundred thousand horse archers. They’d surely sweep away the army of General Leen as an avalanche sweeps away a young tree!
“We have to report this right away!”
Hadjar got the communication artifact—a wooden raven—out of his pack. He took hold of it, closed his eyes, and then began activating the figurine with his thoughts and power. It felt like a bundle of energy from which a ghostly thread was stretching out and into the distance. Hadjar had almost activated the artifact when Nero snatched it from his hands.
“Look over there,” he gave Hadjar the telescope and indicated where he should look.
Hadjar peered into the darkness. There was a meeting going on near the biggest tent. Judging by the number of beads everyone had and their colors, the tribal leaders had gathered there. About twenty of them were present, maybe a few more. His friend had been right, the armies of the whole steppe had been brought here.
The most amazing thing was that the leaders were sitting on stones and smoking pipes while listening to a person. He was a tall man with a short, gray beard, dressed not in leather armor, but in simple, black robes that had been fastened with a silk belt. He looked calm and confident and was speaking a language that Hadjar was unfamiliar with.
Alas, the neuronet couldn’t translate it, because no information about this language had been stored in the database.
The oddity wasn’t so much in the man’s clothes as it was in his aura that Hadjar could feel even at such a great distance.
“He’s clearly stronger than a Heaven Soldier,” Hadjar whispered, fearing that, even while being a few kilometers away, this cultivator could still hear him.
“A Spirit Knight,” Nero slid down the stone on which they were lying. “An accursed Spirit Knight. Of all the rotten luck...”
After taking another look, Hadjar noticed a medallion on the cultivator’s chest. It was made of jade and amber and had the same patterns on it as the coins had.
“Look. Behind their tent.”
Hadjar looked closely and his mouth opened in surprise. Among the hastily constructed enclosures he saw... Thousands of trebuchets, hundreds of cannons, several siege towers and... Some monsters that had been trapped in cages. Monsters whose power was clearly not inferior to an Emerald Wolf’s.
Analysis of the object is underway...
The object is of an unknown structure
The average indicators
Level of cultivation
Awakening of the Mind (8th step)
Strength
2
Dexterity
3
Physique
2.8
Energy points
1.5
“This isn’t a nomad raid…” Following the example of his friend, Hadjar also slid down the stone.
They lay in a small niche, hidden from everyone’s gaze. Only the indifferent heavens, which were black, turbulent, and full of fire dragons could see them now. With a roar, the fire dragons dived down toward the ground but melted halfway.
“Darnassus and Lascan are at war,” Nero took the telescope back and put it in his pocket. “The Solar Ore in our mines isn’t such a special material by Imperial standards. To us, its value is enormous, but to them, it’s the same as iron is to the smaller kingdoms. A good but quite ordinary ore.”
“But in any war,” Hadjar said, “victory consists of many small details, not just one big battle.”
They looked at each other and nodded—they’d come to the same, simplest, and most logical conclusion.
The Lascanians had united the nomads. Maybe they’d bribed them, threatened them, promised them new lands, or something else. It didn’t matter how they’d done it. The fact they were going to bring this horde to the land of Lidus was the important thing. They wanted to cut off the supply of Solar Ore to the Empire.
“How long would it take the legion to come here?” Nero asked.
“It won’t,” Hadjar shook his head. “If Lascan had wanted to, they could’ve already sent their army here. But they won’t do that because it’ll cause a chain reaction which will lead to a decisive battle. How long have they been fighting for?”
“About half a century.”
“Exactly. And in all that time, they’ve only had small, by their standards, clashes, and sieges. There’s been no large scale battle. And no one will initiate one without being completely confident in their total victory.”
“I understand,” Nero nodded. “If one of them loses such a battle, they’ll lose the whole country. So, they want to weaken their enemy by any means. Alas, those same means will be the ruin of our kingdom.”
Hadjar sighed. Nero was right, Lascan was going to crush Lidus. What is a small kingdom to one of the empires? No more than a provincial village. And when one such village suddenly began mining the Solar Ore which their opponent could use in battle…
“That’s why all the scouts have been slaughtered. And that’s why they’ve settled here on the ridge—it’s almost impossible to find them here.”
“Yeah. If it hadn’t been for you, Hadj, no one could’ve ever located them.”
And it was only thanks to the neural network that it had been possible to map out a route by which they were able to sneak onto the plateau unnoticed.
“Well, let’s sum up,” Hadjar began to tick off on his fingers. “There are four or five million savages armed to the teeth on this plateau—they have guns, trebuc
hets, and even some monsters.”
“But they would need to know how to use the cannons and trebuchets. The savages have never had such weapons…”
“I’m sure you aren’t the only one who thought about this,” Hadjar interrupted his friend. “The Lascanians must have trained the nomads. Look at this horde—they’ve been gathering it together for many years.”
Nero swore. He pulled out the telescope and crawled up the stone again.
“What kind of monsters are there?” He asked.
“I have no idea,” Hadjar bent another finger. “We can’t send a message to the camp—the Spirit Knight will surely feel it.”
“Yeah. That’s probably how they found the previous scouts. By tracking the damn signal.”
It was like a magical radar built into the enemy cultivator’s head.
Hadjar continued, “So, they have almost double our numbers. Their cavalry is six times more numerous than ours.”
“And their archers are both better and more numerous,” Nero reminded him. “The nomad children are born with bows in their hands.”
“And with a saddle between their legs,” Hadjar agreed.
“You didn’t give me a chance to see what was between their legs.”
The friends smiled rather nervously at each other.
“Are you thinking the same thing I am, Hadj?”
“I'm afraid so, yes,” Hadjar sighed, also climbing onto the rock. “We’ll most likely die in the process.”
“Well, we’ll certainly die if this mob attacks the fort and we’re there.”
They looked at each other, then turned toward their packs that had been filled with explosives.
Lightning flashed and outlined the silhouettes of two bugs crawling onto the plateau. These bugs were preparing to try and stop a few million opponents.
Chapter 61
Shrouded in shadows, the two infantrymen who had at first become scouts, and were now saboteurs, crawled around the camp. Every now and then, they would freeze in the tall grass, waiting for the flashes of lightning. The period of illumination they provided was enough for them to study the nomads in detail.
They were relaxed and half-drunk. Some were shouting and some were laughing. In the glow of the fires, silhouettes of men and women merged in ecstasy could be seen. The savages were celebrating the upcoming battle and death.
They passed around skins filled with strong koumiss. The women rode the men wildly. The men caressed the women’s small, firm breasts. The camp looked more like an orgy than a military fortification. But such was these people’s tradition and Hadjar didn’t condemn them for it. Regardless of their debauchery, they were worthy warriors and, in the upcoming battle, they would surely be fierce opponents.
Judging by the expression on Nero’s face, he wanted to join the fun.
“Be careful,” Hadjar signaled quickly.
And immediately received an answer. “I know.”
Reluctantly tearing their eyes off of one of the fires, where the people were lying on the ground in a tightly packed group, looking like a coiled snake, they moved on.
Because the mighty foreigner was there, as well as a large number of guard posts, the nomads had lost all of their vigilance. Wine had intoxicated them and lust had rendered them unable to reason. They greeted every lightning bolt with loud shouts, and it responded with a thunderous roar.
In the rain and mud, Nero and Hadjar crawled toward the trebuchets and cannons.
They were especially careful when skirting the central tent. It was almost half a kilometer away from them, but who knew what the Spirit Knight was capable of. They certainly didn’t want to find out.
A few hours later, they were near the pens. The horses were grazing peacefully. A few nomads hurried to cover stacks of mowed grass with some cloth. They didn’t want the future food of their horses to get wet and rotten. The rains would really delay them, but not for long. It wouldn’t be nearly enough time for the army to get ready for their arrival.
“Food.” Nero pointed at the haystacks.
Hadjar didn’t understand at first, but then smiled murderously. They could remove the tarp. It wouldn’t do much harm since there were thousands of haystacks there. But at least they could inconvenience the enemy.
Coming up to the nearest stack, Hadjar was about to slit a working nomad’s throat when Nero stopped him.
He pointed toward the central tent and signaled quickly. “The strong beast.”
Hadjar nodded and stowed the dagger. Could the Spirit Knight feel someone’s death? He didn’t want to risk it.
Waiting until the nomad left, they removed the tarp. The ten-foot stack was now exposed to the rain, so they went further into the darkness. They moved slowly as they were removing the tarps and, after the tenth stack was uncovered, both of them came to the conclusion that this was a useless exercise.
“Too long. Complicated. No time.” Nero showed.
“Another way. Trap.”
Hadjar pointed at the explosives, then the gunpowder, and finally at the rain which seemed to be drenching everything. Gunpowder meant combustible mixtures. Such substances burnt even in water. They’d cover water with a thin pellicle and would burn so hot that a man’s skin would melt right off.
Hadjar and Nero were faced with a choice—to burn a certain part of the haystacks or to undermine most of the cannons.
While hiding in the ravine, they thought over the situation.
The cannons could shoot at a long distance and every shot that hit the ranks of their soldiers would end hundreds of lives. But, on the other hand, they were absolutely useless in a melee, unlike the horse riders, who were able to spend hours circling around the flank, showering enemy fighters with well-aimed arrows.
Exchanging glances, they nodded and went toward the cannons, which were a little further away and were being guarded quite vigilantly.
Pointing to a part of the cliff, Nero ‘walked’ with his fingers. He was suggesting they climb up and skirt the guards on the mountain. This way, they would remain unnoticed and wouldn’t have to cut the nomads’ throats. They had to keep the Lascanian and his power in mind, after all.
Hadjar nodded. They began to climb the cliff again. But this time, the task was more complicated. If they had been crawling vertically before, now they were moving horizontally.
They had to drag themselves along like snails. It turned out to be much harder to pull off.
Perhaps that’s why Hadjar nearly fell when he heard a female voice from below. “Hey! Help me!”
The voice spoke Lidish without a single trace of a savage accent.
Hadjar looked down, and, during the next flash of lightning, saw hundreds of crowded cages. The wet, weakened people stood there, leaning against each other and shivering from the cold.
Damn, there was probably at least ten thousand of them in those cages!
What was even stranger was that the cage from which the female voice had come stood close to the rock and about thirty meters away from the others. There was only one girl in it.
Isolated, lonely...
Hadjar swore, noticing that Nero was already going down. His friend couldn’t leave a lady in trouble. The sun was more likely to rise in the west, rivers to flow backward, or cherries to blossom in winter.
Nero sometimes demonstrated the qualities of an absolute imbecile.
Hadjar hurried after him and soon they were back on the ground.
“Are you crazy?” Hadjar hissed.
“I won’t leave a lady to the mercy of these savages.”
Nero went to the cage and, taking something out of his pocket, began to pick the lock.
“Hurry up,” the voice urged. “The patrol will pass by here soon.”
After a few moments, there was a muffled click, the cage opened, and the girl came out. Lightning flashed and they managed to see her appearance. She was short, had an hourglass figure with a very thin waist, beautiful legs, a high forehead, thick, black hair, and dark, olive ski
n.
Name
???
Level of cultivation
Formation (Seed)
Strength
1.6
Dexterity
1.7
Physique
1,3
Energy Points
7.2
Wait, she has how many energy points? What!
Hadjar grabbed for his dagger, but Nero had already brought his blade down to the girl’s throat.
“Make a sound, savage,” he hissed through his teeth, “and I’ll send you to the endless steppe.”
“It’s a plain, ignoramus,” the girl replied calmly. “They believe in the endless plain, not a steppe. Which one of us is the savage, I wonder...”
“It’s a trap, Nero,” Hadjar hissed. “Knock her out and let’s go.”
“Gods, you are both idiots!” She rolled her eyes and looked far too calm, as if a sharp blade wasn’t pressed against her delicate neck. “I’m not a nomad.”
“You sure seem to be one,” Nero looked at her pointedly.
“I’m from Underworld City.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s in the Sea of Sands.”
“What nonsense,” Nero snorted, and had already raised his fist, but then Hadjar stopped him.
“Wait,” he whispered and took the seal out of his pocket. The one that South Wind had left him before his death.
Stone Will Page 38