Lightning flashed again and the girl showed emotion for the first time. She jerked back and gasped.
“Where did you get the Master’s seal?”
Hadjar cursed foully and put the seal back.
“Put the dagger away, Nero.”
“Maybe it would be better to...”
“Put it away, I said,” Hadjar closed the cage carefully and the three of them dove into darkness.
Hiding under a rock canopy, Nero untied the rope binding the girl’s hands and reached for her neck.
The girl recoiled.
“The collar has been fastened to my neck with the Lascanian’s power. If you take it off, we’re all dead. He’ll know about it immediately.”
Nero shrugged and went over to Hadjar, who was on watch, peering into the boundless darkness. How many prisoners were gathered here? Fifty, maybe up to seventy thousand? Why were there so many of them?
“What is Underworld City? There are only Bedouins in the desert.”
“I'll tell you later,” Hadjar said. “Why do they need so many slaves? I haven’t seen any construction work going on.”
“Maybe they’re going to use them like meat shields? You know, I’ve heard some generals actually do that. They put prisoners in front of their army to decrease the opponent’s morale. Thus, they deprive the opponent of their will to fight because they have to kill their own relatives.”
“Maybe…”
“Maybe you are both idiots,” the girl came up, rubbing her wrists. “These captives are here because they feed them to their monsters.”
Hadjar looked at her. She looked painfully emaciated, was wearing ragged clothes, and was covered in blood and bruises. But she was still beautiful. In general, most practitioners were. The body changed during cultivation, acquiring the features so many men and women enjoyed.
“How long have you been here?”
“A month,” the girl answered. “Maybe less, maybe more. I don’t know.”
“How did you end up here?” Nero asked.
She just rolled her eyes again.
“Do we plan to sit here discussing that or do you want to go and set fire to their haystacks and get off the plateau?”
“How did you know our plan?” Nero nearly shouted in alarm and grabbed his dagger again.
“You’re definitely a couple of idiots. I’ve been here for a month, boys,” she’d said ‘boys’ with a particularly potent loathing. “I’ve come up with a hundred and one plans for how to get revenge on them. And setting fire to the haystacks is number one on the list.”
Hadjar and Nero exchanged glances. Judging by how heavy and complex the collar was, the girl clearly wasn’t at the first levels of cultivation. Perhaps she was even stronger than either of them. Maybe even both of them combined. But only when not wearing her slave decoration. With it, a mere mortal could’ve beaten her.
“If you end up slowing us down, we’ll leave you here.”
And then three silhouettes dived into the downpour and darkness.
Chapter 62
“Water,” Nero signaled. Hadjar nodded.
Armed with his dagger, Hadjar went in the direction of the barrels and boxes. He left Nero and the strange lady to deal with the explosives. He didn’t trust the former prisoner, but he could fully rely on Nero.
Underneath a canopy of coarse cloth, there were boxes of gunpowder, piled high on top of each other. Hadjar didn’t touch them. He was much more interested in the barrels full of the combustible mixture. The nomads were probably going to cover the stones intended for the trebuchets with it.
What could be better than a huge boulder that could break through walls? Setting that huge boulder on fire.
Bypassing the first post, which stood guard over the gunpowder, Hadjar moved on.
What were the chances of him meeting a person from the city where South Wind had lived for some time? Less than the probability of winning the lottery jackpot twice a week. And yet, Fate had clearly disagreed.
Hadjar crept up to one of the guards without the aid of a flash of lightning.
He abruptly struck the broad-shouldered nomad in the temple with the hilt of his dagger. The strike was strong enough to stun the guard but too weak to send him to his ancestors.
Picking up the man’s unconscious body, he carefully lowered him to the ground. A second later, he snuck out of the darkness and knocked the second watchman out in exactly the same way.
It was easy, not only because Hadjar had the power of the Formation Stage, but also because they were relaxed, had drunk two wineskins of strong koumiss, and the sense of security that they had due to the presence of the Lascanian.
In the eyes of the nomads, the Spirit Knight was a mythical hero or a demigod, and the inhabitants of Lidus would’ve been just as awed. Who could remain vigilant on such an evening, when everybody knew that it would be impossible to enter the camp unnoticed? This ‘knowledge’ was dangerous because it was more deceptive than any mirage.
Hadjar began to carefully but quickly uncork the barrels, pulling out the plugs and allowing the smelly, black liquid to mix with the downpour. They flowed down simultaneously, like small streams, toward the pastures and the haystacks covered with fabric.
At this point, Hadjar regretted that they hadn’t managed to remove some of the covers. They, despite the rain, would’ve burned much better than wet grass.
After uncorking all the barrels he could, Hadjar tied up the unconscious guards and gagged them with rags, covered their eyes with dirt and plugged their ears with grass. That way, even when they woke up, they wouldn’t be able to understand what was happening.
It's pretty hard to wake up from such a ‘sleep’ and not be disoriented, even without being deprived of your senses. Hadjar knew this better than anyone.
Getting back to their designated meeting spot, he waited for Nero and the girl.
Smeared in mud and clay, they looked more like cave trolls or something along those lines, but definitely not normal people.
“We must wait,” Hadjar ordered through hand signals. “Water flows. We are waiting for when... There should be enough water.”
If they detonated the explosives right now, the fire wouldn’t have time to burn down even a tenth of the pasture. Moreover, the horses burning in the fire would start to neigh, and the whole tribe would run to them. A horse was more important to the nomads than their mother, father, and bow combined. And these three things were sacred to any savage.
“Do you have any talismans?” The girl asked.
She had started to say something else, but Nero put his hand over her mouth. He put a finger to his lips, his entire appearance showing her that it was necessary to stay silent.
She just moved his palm aside.
“Nobody can hear us, you damn idiots. There’s the rain, all the thunder, and even the noise of a lot of drunken and mating savages.”
“I have some,” Hadjar replied in a whisper, figuring she was right.
He took the talismans that the Master had given him from his pocket. They were strips of yellow paper with red letters inscribed on them.
“Do you always carry these with you?” The girl took a few of the ‘pieces of paper’ from him so carefully it looked like she was touching a bomb. “These spells... I recognize this style. They were made personally by the Master. Where did you get them?”
“A good man gave them to me. He was your Master’s apprentice.”
“Really? Maybe I know his name and-”
“Perhaps we could discuss this later?” Nero interrupted. “Why do you need the talismans? You’re still wearing your collar, and it’s not like I could’ve taken it off earlier. I don’t have the seal. I just wanted to take a look.”
“A key-seal isn’t needed,” the lady shook her head. “You could just destroy it. Otherwise, the savages would have pestered the Lascanian endlessly.”
“Let her keep them,” Hadjar said firmly. “When we burn down everything, it’ll be useless to try a
nd hide. The Knight will find us wherever we go. We’ll tear off her collar and run away.”
“I’m very experienced when it comes to the art of escaping,” Nero smiled, trying to defuse the situation.
He failed.
“Let me ask you this, most esteemed master of running away” the girl said dryly. “How are we going to get away? If you’re planning to steal some horses, we won’t be able to even get past the first slope before we’re killed.”
“Actually, we had another plan.”
Hadjar and Nero didn’t waste time. They took some rope and tied it to the girl’s waist. She winced from the unpleasant feeling of the wet rope touching her skin and frowned, but remained silent.
Perhaps she had once worn pretty nice clothes, but now, her slender legs were being shown off beneath a tattered, green skirt. It was obvious that some jewelry had been torn off her waist, neck, and wrists. Her skin was slightly paler in those places.
Round, shapely mounds protruded from underneath the scraps of fabric that had once been a white blouse. Nero and Hadjar tried not to look. Not because it was an unappealing sight or uninteresting, but because the time and place weren’t very suitable for such things.
They began to climb up the cliff. It was much harder than they’d expected it to be.
The girl couldn’t help them and just hung there like a weight. She couldn’t even cling to the rock without her practitioner strength, let alone climb up it. Therefore, the ascent, which would’ve normally taken about fifteen minutes, lasted more than half an hour.
Hadjar was waiting for his death to arrive with every passing minute, with every new flash of lightning and thunder.
He didn’t know when the unconscious sentries would wake up, how soon they would raise the alarm, or whether the Spirit Knight would kill them the very next moment, or maybe a second later.
It was difficult to plan their next steps while distracted by all these concerns, so when the edge of the cliff became visible, Hadjar sighed with relief. They didn’t untie the lady when they finished climbing. Instead, they just made sure the knots were still tied firmly and looked down. There was a huge abyss below them, the bottom of which was still covered by a massive forest.
“Are you ready?” Nero asked him.
He took out a small artifact that looked like a detonator.
“Let’s go,” Hadjar whispered in response.
Nero blinked for a moment and then there was an explosion so loud it could’ve competed even with the noise of the heavenly thunder. A huge flash lit up almost the entire camp and the desperate neighing of burning horses filled the air.
Smashing through the pens, they rushed through the camp, setting fire to tents and trampling people. People starting crying out in dismay and confusion and the plateau was plunged into chaos.
“Go!” Hadjar shouted, feeling like something was coming toward them.
Nero tore the girl’s collar off immediately. The aura of the Transformation Stage washed over both men.
The lady immediately grabbed one of the talismans, squeezed it between her fingers, and whispered a few words. The paper turned into ashes and then various symbols appeared, spinning over their heads. They merged together in a mad dance, forming something resembling a dome.
Right after that, a gigantic flame sword struck the dome! Hadjar couldn’t believe his eyes. The symbols cracked and distorted under the force of the sword which was the size of a whole tree. The damn blade was at least fifty feet long, and as thick as two grown men!
Blood started leaking from the girl’s nose.
“Hurry,” she croaked.
Nero and Hadjar turned and ran toward the cliff. They were running without even seeing where they were going, like the horses that were burning the camp down below, on the plateau. But while the horses had encountered no obstacles, they were less fortunate. The gigantic, fiery blade flashed and the symbols faded away in a couple of seconds. Their death was imminent and they all knew it.
The girl screamed and fell to her knees. Nero and Hadjar caught her by the arms as they ran, trying to get away.
They came to the cliff.
“We need to jump,” Hadjar said.
[The probability of the host surviving such a scenario: <23%]
Hadjar just shrugged off the message.
“Are you crazy?” His friend shouted.
“Are there any other options?”
And then it became difficult, almost impossible, to breathe. Both of them felt it. Hadjar barely managed to turn around. A silhouette was floating in the distance, about a hundred yards away, without the assistance of wings or any other device. He just slowly descended from a great height.
It’s the Spirit Knight. Damn that Lascanian!
He only touched the handle of his sword and the wave produced by the aura of his blade rushed toward Hadjar. It was a simple aura, the mere desire to draw a blade, but it was enough to cut through rocks like they were plain paper, even at a hundred yards.
Hadjar’s instincts began blaring like a siren.
He knew that, once the aura touched them, only three red smears would be left behind.
Drawing his blade, Hadjar assumed the ‘Strong Wind’ stance. He slashed with his sword, unleashing all of his strength and putting all the skill he could muster into the strike.
Astonishment was plainly evident on the cultivator’s face. Why is this ant of the Formation Stage still alive?
A whirlwind of razor-sharp wind, within which ghostly blades danced, emerged from Hadjar’s sword. The attack collided with the aura and... Could only delay it for a couple of seconds.
The Spirit Knight had been able to unravel Hadjar’s Technique with only a simple touch against his sword hilt.
But that couple of seconds had been enough for the talisman in the lady’s hands to burn up.
The cry of a crane rang out in the sky and Nero and Hadjar jumped off the cliff.
The cultivator roared with rage. Stones crumbled from the force of it as the trio flew away on a ghostly crane that had been created from the same hieroglyphs as the recently employed shield.
“We have to get back to camp as quickly as possible,” Nero said, holding the bloody and pale girl in his lap.
“I hope this bird knows where to go,” Hadjar muttered, staring at the shape of the mountain range disappearing off in the distance.
He knew that the cultivator wouldn’t follow them. If he got too close to the camp, the Librarian would feel it. And such a meeting would immediately lead to a chain reaction that none of the parties involved in the conflict wanted yet.
“At least we’re still alive.”
I made it…
Chapter 63
General Leen's tent was once again crowded because of the numerous people that had gathered inside. On top of that, she had ordered that Sirius, the head of the Fort, attend the meeting as well, which everyone else disapproved of.
He appeared to be arrogant and confident, just like last time, wearing gold jewelry, precious stones, silks, and brocade. The only thing that made him a general was his title and the insignia that went along with it. The valuable badge of office hadn’t been stolen purely because thieves avoided targets who were too important.
“Do you believe these soldiers?” Sirius pointed his thick finger at Nero, Hadjar, and Serra.
That was the name of the girl they’d saved, Serra. She now looked a little better than she had a couple of hours earlier. Dogar’s healer had treated her wounds, given her his brew, and even some clothes. The brown leather jacket and high boots suited her, emphasizing her shapely figure.
“I swear on my power and blood…” Hadjar slashed his knife across his palm and his blood burned. “I’m telling the truth.”
For a couple of seconds, people just stared at him, but Hadjar didn’t catch fire like any person that had violated a blood oath would have.
“You see, Sirius, he's telling the truth.”
“Or he thinks he's telling the trut
h,” the official replied immediately. “You never know what he might’ve imagined seeing in the storm.”
And as if in confirmation of the official’s words, lightning struck and the thunder rumbled so loudly that the figures on the table shook.
“That's nothing, Sirius,” the General suddenly stepped around the desk and approached the paunchy man. The petite girl still looked like an enormous tiger stepping on a mouse’s tail. “Where are your patrols, Sirius?”
The official turned paler and sweatier with every step Leen took. He turned to his soldiers, but they weren’t eager to draw their weapons. Several senior officers were also in the tent, so any move would’ve been truly suicidal.
“The patrols are patrolling,” the head of the Fort shrugged nervously.
“Really? That’s a surprise, Sirius. Then why didn’t you tell me then that the nomads were capturing the people of our Kingdom?”
“Well, they looted a couple of villages…” Sirius’ adjusted his collar nervously. He couldn't breathe. “Should I send the garrison out every time someone burns down a village on the border?”
“A couple of villages? What villages are you even talking about, when they’ve captured a quarter of a million people? Something tells me, Sirius, that they’ve sacked not just a couple, but a couple hundred villages! Where are the patrols?”
“Yes, well, I…”
“Where are the patrols, you fat bastard?”
The General grabbed Sirius's shirt and easily lifted him off the floor. The fort soldiers took up arms, but Dogar silently came up behind them and laid his huge paws on their shoulders. He pushed them down so hard that their armor cracked and began to fall apart. He kneaded the metal just like baker's dough.
Rat-man, the official’s ever-present companion, looked around hastily. Apparently, he would be the first to abandon the sinking ship.
“No patrols!” The tubby ‘general’ screamed hysterically, his legs dangling in the air. “No guns, no patrols, no garrison!”
Leen loosened her fingers and Sirius fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Tears were streaming down his red, sweaty face, washing away the paint he had coated it in.
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