Chapter 137
Hadjar was finally able to sit down at the table with the help of the witch. He drank more of the damned antidote and looked at the imperturbable girl. She didn't care about Hadjar's desire to cut off her head. Despite everything that’d happened, he could not deny two things:
Firstly, she was an insanely beautiful woman.
And secondly, a horde of frightened beasts was coming toward them from the other side of the peninsula.
The General’s feelings were a mixed bag. On the one hand, he wanted to kill the witch because she’d done something to his mind. On the other hand, he was eager to rape her first and then kill her. His anger was causing him to think these thoughts—he would never actually rape anyone.
Most of all, he wanted to get back to the camp as soon as possible. They had an incredible amount of work to do if they wanted to survive this winter and the rampaging beasts that were approaching.
Sharp fangs and claws had been added to the list of dangers, alongside the hunger and cold…
“What did you poison me with?” Hadjar finally asked.
He hadn't intended to talk to the beauty, but he had to know what she’d used; after all, his neuronet couldn't even detect it.
Nehen smiled, tucked away a loose strand of hair, and sipped some herbal tea. She did this in a very feminine manner, the way only a girl who was certain of her beauty, appeal, and modesty could.
Hadjar shuddered and turned away.
He’d always thought his tastes were very specific and unrealistic. He liked a special kind of girl: strong and free, but at the same time, ladylike. Usually, not even female practitioners possessed these three qualities, let alone mere mortals.
Apparently, the islander was the second exception after Stepha—at least among the women he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.
“I didn’t poison you, General,” the witch answered quietly.
Hadjar resisted the urge to draw his blade. He still didn't have the strength for it. If Nehen called in her furry counterparts, they’d eat him up and wouldn’t even leave a bone behind.
“You said that you poisoned me.”
“I lied.” Nehen shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that, General.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re looking at me accusingly. I don’t see any reason for you to judge me.”
Hadjar thought that he had some pretty good reasons and was willing to argue with her.
“You just took control of my life without even asking!”
“I might argue that you’re doing the same with the lives of several million people.”
“They follow me willingly,” Hadjar replied. “Don’t try to change the subject. How did you do it?”
Nehen looked at her companion and peered into the depths of his blue eyes. She knew perfectly well what this man was feeling after the journey his soul had undertaken. Moreover, none of the people she’d previously guided had managed to sit up and talk, let alone demand anything, within just five minutes.
Usually, people lay unconscious for one to three days, regardless of the strength of their bodies and the level of their cultivation. They didn’t spend that time looking for a way back into their bodies, but instead, they had to try to get used to them again, the way people had to get used to a new home.
Nehen had no doubt that the General was on the verge of trying to draw his blade. And then she would have to call the wolves, and the brave warrior would become a delicious dinner for her brothers.
He was brave, strong, and reckless like a fire that had been ignited by heavenly lightning, or like a dragon possessed by a demon of rage.
She hadn’t met a man like him in a very long time.
“I needed your trust, warrior,” the witch said and pushed the cup aside. “No spells or potions can conjure that kind of trust. They can trick your mind, make you serve me more faithfully than a dog, but they can’t make you trust me with all your heart and soul.”
“Then you-”
“I tricked you,” Nehen nodded. “Or rather, your foolish belief that I would somehow harm you did. You trusted your wariness. And in that brief moment when I said I poisoned you, you believed it. I used that faith to send your soul on a journey.”
Hadjar was silent for a moment, and then, without hesitation, disregarding the presence of a lady, he cursed. If his Nanny had heard him spew such abuse in his childhood, she would’ve flogged him hard for many months.
Nehen smiled and lifted her cup again.
Hadjar had never liked mind games. Perhaps he could play them well, but not as well as he could wield the blade. A fair fight, in his opinion, was better than using manipulation and clever tricks.
Some would say that such an outlook was stupid, brutish, and fundamentally wrong, but... when you were so strong and skilled that your sword could pierce the very sky, would any of these tricks and intrigues actually be able to harm you?
That didn’t mean you didn't have to use your head. No, no, no. The mind was even more important than muscles to a warrior, but Hadjar didn’t like how many people used theirs in such perfidious ways.
“Do you often send other people’s souls on these… journeys?”
He said the last word as sarcastically as he could. But his tone failed to hurt Nehen and deprive her of her mask of icy calm. A truly homely comfort could be felt in this ice, and only a real woman could’ve created it.
“Not really,” Nehen said evasively. “They don’t always end well.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked into the General’s eyes again and realized that she didn’t have to try and hide anything from the man.
They needed each other to survive this winter, and the mystery would be unraveled sooner or later. And when the warrior learned the truth from someone besides Nehen, her being weaker than him wouldn’t stay his hand. He would come for her and take her life. And Nehen was in no hurry to meet her foremothers.
“If you had died in the body of a beast, you would’ve died here as well. If your soul had gotten lost in the endless river of energy on your way there or during your return, you would’ve died then, too. Your body would’ve dried up and become mummified, and your soul would’ve become a ghost. If your soul had been full of doubt when you’d returned, if something had gone wrong, you would never have woken up. And I can keep listing other instances of ‘if you’ until late into the night.”
Hadjar placed his cup on the table.
He looked at the witch, at the bottomless depth of her black eyes, and at her face—for which some would’ve been willing to die.
It was foolish to say that Hadjar didn’t understand her motives. She wanted to protect her people, her village, and all those to whom she was connected by the scarlet ribbons of destiny. Who was Hadjar to her? Just another man with a sword at his belt and military regalia on his chest. A passing stranger. An all too brief companion on the long and winding path of life.
He probably would’ve done the same thing to protect his people—the army. In fact, he'd already done that when he’d decided to go to war against ‘The Black Gates’ sect, and when he’d left Tuur in charge of his army and gone to the mountains to find medicine for his friend.
He understood the motivation and reasoning behind the witch’s actions perfectly.
But, by the demons, that didn’t mean he was ready to put up with them!
Silently, without even saying goodbye, Hadjar stood up. He didn't manage it on his first try. He stumbled, but, by clutching at the edge of the table and leaning on his sword, he was able to limp to the exit.
Nehen never moved. Even when the General opened the door and went out onto the porch, when her wolves growled while staring at him, she never budged. She knew that if she moved, the warrior would die. He would have to draw his sword, and then she would have to give the order to her wolves.
And yet, looking out the window at the receding figure of the brave General, she hoped that he would turn around. She
didn't know why, but she still hoped.
Hadjar did not look back.
Chapter 138
As Hadjar walked through the forest and back toward the village, he constantly felt the wolves’ gaze upon him. He didn’t know whether Nehen had sent her furry buddies to protect him in his weakened state or... her. Hadjar, leaning on his sword, walked through the forest, the ground now frozen under its winter blanket. The trees creaked in the wind, and the black crows circled above him, cawing.
“Don’t expect me to die here,” the General growled at them as he stumbled onward.
He was weak and wounded, not so much physically as deep in his core. It was unlikely that his soul going on such a journey could end up being harmless for him. No matter what the witch had said, it was impossible to simply transfer a consciousness from one body to another without any consequences.
The last time Hadjar had experienced something similar, his body had died; only a pile of meat and bones had been left on the doctors’ table.
After leaving the crows and the wolves far behind, the General returned to the central village. Many people were now gathered in the streets. Cheerful and carefree, they enjoyed the festivities and had as much fun as they could.
Sometimes, one of them would notice the warrior moving in the direction of the Chief’s tower. Their faces became grim and their gazes stern. Mothers hid their children behind their backs, and husbands would step forward protectively. They were clutching a variety of utensils and basic weapons. One guy was apparently even planning to fight the General with an ordinary baton.
Hadjar ignored them all.
“Please take this,” Hadjar heard a voice behind him say.
Hadjar instantly used his neuronet,
[Analysis! Threat level: zero]
The little girl that Lian had recently given a flower to was standing nearby. Now she was holding out a piece of bread to Hadjar. The bread was old and stale; in the north, where it was cold six months of the year, and the snow covered the fields for over half that time, bread was one of the most valuable things they had.
“Thank you.” Hadjar nodded and accepted it.
The girl smiled and disappeared back into the crowd, and Hadjar continued on his way. He passed several crowded shopping areas, and the people there were preparing for after the festival by selling everything they couldn’t carry in their hands or put in a bag. However, Hadjar didn’t hear even a single cry announcing the sale of any ingredients for cultivation.
The people here weren’t very strong. He hadn’t seen many practitioners above the fifth stage of the Bodily Nodes.
The reason why was clear: it was highly unlikely that ‘The Black Gates’ sect wanted to have a settlement full of practitioners located at the foot of their strongholds. Talented people wanted to leave their villages as soon as possible to go see the world, and they would leave through the Black Gates the sect had used for its name; Hadjar felt it must get confusing at times.
Putting his hood up to avoid the cold of another gust of wind, Hadjar finally reached the tower.
The same guards met him. This time, they looked at him with a slight grin, as if they were silently laughing about his visit to the witch.
Nehen had a sort of special authority among the villagers. She was treated with a mixture of fear and immense respect, and perhaps a little worship from the men. After all, she was incredibly beautiful. Although, a simple word such as ‘beautiful’ could not describe even the shadow of her face.
“Your weapon, oh glorious General,” one of the guards said, much more boldly and sarcastically than before.
Hadjar took off his weapon and threw it on the chest next to him. He almost fell as he did so.
The guards didn't even move to help him, despite him clearly needing it.
Did he really have to protect these people from the animals’ invasion? Anyone else, if they’d been in Hadjar’s shoes, would have given up by now and returned to the mountains. They would’ve focused exclusively on fortifying and protecting their army, rather than these uncouth villagers. But Hadjar wasn’t ‘anyone else’. He was a General who tried to preserve his honor whenever possible.
Perhaps he was the last of his kind.
“General!”
Lian ran to Hadjar and helped her commander sit on a nearby bench. Slightly tipsy, but with a still clear mind, Helion approached them both. As soon as the cavalryman examined the General, he didn’t look like the cat that had eaten the canary anymore.
Well, Helion might’ve managed to find some common ground with the female servants...
“Have you been attacked, my General?!” Helion instinctively reached for his blade, but ended up only patting his thigh. His weapon, as well as its scabbard, had been left in the hall. The cavalry officer got himself together and looked at his boots. All three of his sharp daggers were still hidden there.
They were long enough to let them use weakened versions of their Techniques.
“No.” Hadjar shook his head. “It was just a little magic, Officer.”
Lian swore. She cursed witches and their ‘cheap tricks’. It was a good thing that Serra wasn’t there. Hadjar didn’t doubt that she would’ve taken it personally.
The maids were still fussing around. They put platters of different food, as well as jugs of booze and water on the tables. They also covered benches with woolen bedspreads in case the celebration ended up lasting until the following day.
Many of the servants looked at the strangers with interest. They must’ve been very curious. They had all known that the General would be visiting Nehen before Hadjar had even reached the forest.
“I think you saw all you needed to see,” the Chief said as he approached.
Hadjar looked into the man’s eyes. The Chief couldn't stand it and turned away. Hadjar figured he wasn’t ashamed, but he might’ve been feeling remorse at the fact that he hadn’t warned him about what might happen in the witch’s hut. But then, if the General had known what to expect, it was highly unlikely that Nehen would’ve been able to deceive him as she had.
“We’ll help you,” the General nodded. “On one condition…”
“General,” Lian said a bit fearfully. “What do you mean by that?”
“One condition,” Hadjar repeated, ignoring the officer’s remark.
“I am listening, honored General.”
“You’ll help us in turn. I see your barns are full of supplies, and my soldiers might soon begin to starve.”
Now the Chief looked like a real ruler. His eyes hardened, and his face darkened.
“We need those supplies to survive the winter,” he said quietly.
“If my army starves, you’ll get to see the winter as animal droppings.” Hadjar suddenly grinned in a slightly rapacious way. “Besides, my dear Chief, I can’t guarantee that when my warriors get hungry, they won’t just come down from the mountains to visit your villages. And, as I’m sure you know, a hungry and angry soldier isn’t the most pleasant of neighbors to have.”
Helion and Lian looked at their General in surprise. They hadn’t previously seen or heard Hadjar threaten someone in such a cunning way. Their commander was a hot-blooded man. He could curse and raise his sword against the noblemen and the Generals’ officials, but he had never before resorted to using such methods.
However, this kind of behavior and negotiations were familiar to civil rulers.
Chief Darius mulled Hadjar’s words over.
After a few minutes, he sighed and nodded his agreement.
“Send your logistics officer here after the holiday. We'll arrange everything.”
Hadjar felt better. Their coming here hadn’t been in vain—he’d been able to solve the problem of his army’s lack of food, which was perhaps the most urgent of all the issues they faced.
“I’ll send him tomorrow morning.” Hadjar stood up with the help of Helion and Lian. “The beasts will be here in about a month and a half… perhaps two. So, we don't have much time to celebr
ate, Darius. If we don’t hurry, we’ll all die.”
Darius didn't move.
“Let me point out, General,” he said, “that if we cancel the festival, people will figure out that an invasion is imminent and begin to panic.”
“You have to tell them about it.”
“Undoubtedly. But we'll do it at the right time and avoid them panicking. And as you well know, General, a panicked peasant is not the best of neighbors.”
Hadjar bravely withstood the taunt.
“Well,” Darius continued in a much kinder tone, “you can hardly go back to the mountains in your current state. Relax, General, have fun at the party. My home is your home. My wine is your wine. The dances will start in three days, and, honored General, if you’ve never seen a girl from the mountains dance, you’ve never seen a woman in your life.”
Lian started to say something, but ultimately chose to remain silent, deciding that it wasn’t worth getting into an argument over.
After sitting down on a bench, Hadjar picked up a piece of dried meat from a tray. Yes, maybe he could’ve gone back to the mountains, but he much preferred to stay for a couple of days. Perhaps he would examine the sculpture of the God of War more closely—if he could stop thinking about the witch, Nehen… It could happen.
Chapter 139
Hadjar untied the letter from the crow’s leg. Tuur’s report said that everything was quiet in the camp. Everyone was busy with their work: clearing the land for the barrier shafts and they’d also designated teams for digging channels.
The Engineer asked if it would be possible to send troops up to the mountain peaks to cause several explosions with powder charges and create a real avalanche.
Hadjar looked out the window. There, in the distance, a raging blizzard was enveloping The Black Mountains.
I wonder how Tuur is able to build something in this kind of weather…
All the work was being done outside the perimeter of the barrier, where the blizzards were still going strong.
The General wrote his reply, tied the paper to the crow’s leg, and sent the bird on its way. He watched the black silhouette disappear into the distance, hurrying to deliver his message. Hadjar didn’t know how such a small bird could withstand the vicious weather.
Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2 Page 33