“Follow me,” Arkemeya said quietly.
“What is this?” Derek whispered.
They had to be careful when descending the steep steps of the narrow path. Arkemeya tied her horse to the dead tree and held on to the edge of the cliff as she walked. They, bound by one chain as they were, couldn’t do the same. So they simply walked as cautiously as they could. At some point, Alea tripped. Had it not been for Steppe Fang, they would’ve all fallen into the foggy abyss of the gorge.
Once they were finally at the barbican’s gates, the four of them watched in awe as Arkemeya opened them with a flick of her wrist. The heavy bars groaned and disappeared into the stone. The bridge looked like something out of a childhood nightmare. Shrouded in fog that stretched over the precipice, it was old and worn down. Hadjar stepped on it more carefully than he had on the rocky steps.
The farther they went, the more severe the atmosphere became. If not for Steppe Fang’s potion, the three disciples would’ve dropped unconscious long ago. As it was, they were making their way through the fog with a lot of difficulty.
Struggling to breathe, Hadjar looked at the world through the World River and almost immediately wished that he hadn’t. The fog, which wasn’t supposed to have any energy in it, shone with a bright light. It even had some sort of energy body that was trying to attach itself to them. It would’ve probably succeeded, too, had Arkemeya not been there. Thanks to the odd symbol on her palm, the fog didn’t dare approach her.
“What is this fog exactly?” Hadjar asked, stunned. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“It’s a Spiritual Parasite,” Arkemeya explained.
“Is it some kind of guardian?”
She nodded. “Exactly. This symbol on my palm prevents it from devouring us.”
Soon, they were at the huge gates of the main entrance. Hadjar estimated that they would need at least fifty guards to man them, but there was no one there.
“It’s not too late for you yet, you stupid humans.” Arkemeya turned to the squad. “If I take you inside, you’ll all face a death so horrific that mothers will frighten their children with stories of your suffering for centuries to come.”
Hadjar smiled. Long ago, in an underwater cave, he’d heard a similar threat.
“If you want me to, I’ll remove the seal and let the fog devour you.”
“Calm down, Arkemeya,” Hadjar said. “We’re sticking to the plan.”
Or with the part of it that you’re familiar with, at any rate.
“I feel sorry for you,” Arkemeya whispered. Hadjar was convinced that she felt more sympathy for herself than for them.
The demoness turned to the gates and raised her hand. The symbol on her palm flared with green light that then stretched out in a long column and hit one of the round, stained-glass windows. After a while, there was a rumbling. The gates, covered in artifact iron several inches thick, creaked as they slowly parted.
The foyer wasn’t dark and scary, like Hadjar had expected it to be, but warm and solemn. There was a carpet on the floor, spread out like a blue sea over the gray stones that disappeared somewhere near the steps of the wide staircase leading up to the second floor. As many as ten pairs of guests could walk freely along it. On the high ceiling, lamps made of some kind of crystal shone with a cold light. Similar to the lamps inside flying ships, they absorbed energy from the World River and instantly converted it in order to radiate light.
Old tapestries hung on the walls, many of them so faded that the scenes they depicted were no longer discernable. There were also several paintings. Hadjar remembered that any picture painted by a cultivator carried certain mysteries inside it and cost a lot of money. There weren’t as many of them here as in the Lascan Imperial Palace, but it was still an impressive collection.
After giving all of them some time to admire the interior, Arkemeya led them toward the stairs. Despite the thick carpet, their footsteps echoed throughout the empty corridors.
Hadjar was certain that the gods had helped them in their venture. Their arrival coinciding with the preparations for the King’s festival being held on the eve of the Black Star couldn’t have been a mere coincidence.
When they reached the second floor, which was similar to the first, Arkemeya led them not to the ballroom where the feast was being held, but to the kitchen. Hadjar suspected that they wouldn’t see anything pleasant in there, but as he passed through the narrow doors and entered the spacious and bright room, he realized that he’d never seen anything as horrible as this in his life.
Chapter 605
The kitchen was full of zombies. Looking closer at the men and women, Hadjar saw strange symbols carved into their foreheads. They were all covered in old, crusty blood and skeletally thin, with sunken cheeks, cracked lips, and rotten teeth. Dressed in rags, they stared at the empty space before them with… happy eyes. Mad, but happy eyes.
“What happened to them?” Derek asked.
Arkemeya removed their shackles and put on the fake ones that Hadjar, with the help of his willpower and the Black Blade, had made from the cannons. Just when he was beginning to think that he’d have to repeat Derek’s question, Arkemeya decided to answer.
“Our saliva has an intoxicating effect, so don’t eat anything from the hands of the Dah’Khasses.”
Arkemeya didn’t look the least bit pleased about any of this. Hadjar could easily imagine what fate awaited her if their plan succeeded. And if they failed… Well, he doubted that the King would show mercy to a traitor.
The demoness freed Derek, then Alea and Irma. They tried to look calm, but failed. When they’d originally left their school, they definitely hadn’t expected to find themselves risking their lives infiltrating a demon lair.
“Stop growling, big guy,” Arkemeya said as she tried to approach Steppe Fang, who snarled menacingly and bared his fangs at her. “Do you want me to accidentally cut you?”
She still had her sabers, but she knew that she couldn’t use her weapons against any of them.
“Why haven’t we come across any Dah’Khasses yet?” Derek walked over to one of the ‘zombies’ and waved his hand in front of his face. The man continued to smile stupidly as he cut a chunk of bloody meat into fine, thin slices. As Hadjar understood it, if not for the symbols carved into their foreheads, they would’ve crumbled to dust long ago. The atmosphere of the castle was lethal to mortals and weak cultivators. The only reason the Lascanians were still alive was because of Steppe Fang’s alchemy.
“Only the nobles are here today,” Arkemeya explained. “And they consider it shameful to stand next to mortals or to even look in their general direction.”
“What about their future Empire? How’s that going to work?”
“They’re going to rule there, so it will apparently be fine.” Undisguised hostility could be heard in Arkemeya’s voice. “The nobles have never left our lands and they rarely leave their castles.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Derek stopped waving his hand in front of the man’s face and walked over to a pot that was bubbling on the stone cooker. Lifting the lid, he picked up the ladle and was about to dip it into the stew when Arkemeya put her hand on his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why?” Derek shrugged her hand off his shoulder and scooped up some of the stew.
“As you wish.” Arkemeya grinned, looking at Derek as he brought the ladle up to his lips. “But you should first think about what we eat.”
Derek blinked several times, dropped the ladle back into the pot, and moved away. The sisters followed his example and backed away from a table where several women were cutting meat. Everyone understood where this food had come from.
“Weaklings,” Arkemeya whispered, removing the shackles from Hadjar’s hands.
Finally free, he rubbed his wrists, and then secured the fake shackles around them. A true cultivator would have no problem removing them.
�
�Does everyone remember their roles?” He asked, turning to the startled disciples.
Even Steppe Fang looked dumbfounded. Hadjar, who’d seen mounds of corpses and rivers of gore before, wasn’t so shocked by the kitchen.
“Are we really going to serve these monsters?” Irma’s lips trembled slightly. “And serve them… serve them… this…”
“Calm down!” Alea said and grabbed her sister by the arm. “Don’t think about it. Instead, focus on how this will help save our country and our loved ones from suffering a similar fate.”
“Are you ready?” Hadjar asked sternly.
There was still some doubt in everyone’s eyes, but there was no cowardice.
“Then let’s get changed.”
Hadjar, who had learned much from Arkemeya about the Palace, had planned out how they’d get to the King. The only thing he hadn’t taken into account was that his companions weren’t adventurers, pirates, or warriors, but inexperienced children.
“Evening Stars help us,” he whispered and hit one of the servants.
Having undressed the man, he took off his own clothes, hid them in his spatial ring, changed into a gray robe, and picked up the tray. Elegantly served, the food would’ve looked delicious if he didn’t know what it was. Soon, everyone was dressed and ready to go.
Steppe Fang, who couldn’t pretend to be a waiter, whispered something in his native tongue and got down on all fours. Arkemeya put a collar around his neck and led him along like a dog.
Hadjar, merging with the crowd, entered a narrow, dark corridor that led in the direction the noise and silvery light were coming from. Ten seconds later, he just barely managed to contain himself from gasping in admiration. In a huge hall made of crystal, hundreds of couples danced to the slow rhythm of a beautiful melody.
The couples consisted of tall men in expensive doublets, frozen at the age when they made girls’ hearts beat faster, and women who looked like the embodiment of any young man’s dreams. Their white, rarely black hair and beautiful dresses swayed with every move of their long, slender legs. Their waists, accentuated by wide belts, seemed so thin that one could probably hold them comfortably with just one hand. The servants passed through the rows of dancing couples, carrying glasses full of scarlet liquid or plates with appetizers.
Hadjar carefully moved toward the long table where other demons were feasting, searching for Arkemeya’s father.
And even though he’d been given a description, he didn’t really need it. The King was the epitome of masculine beauty and grace. Dressed in a white and red doublet, he gazed lazily at the luxury surrounding him with clear, blue eyes. His white curls fell just a little short of his broad shoulders, and his fine brows gave his gaze a certain wistfulness. The power he emanated terrified Hadjar, as it was beyond his comprehension. Had he wanted to, the King could’ve destroyed the entire Palace and all its guests with a single flick of his finger.
“Your Majesty.” Arkemeya bowed. “I’m sorry to interrupt the celebration, but I caught an orc. He was scouting our borders.”
She yanked the chain and Steppe Fang crawled forward. The King was no more than ten feet away from him. A perfect distance.
“What a funny toy you’ve brought me, my daughter,” he said in a voice filled with apathy and boredom. “But I don’t understand why you decided to bring this animal here-”
“Black Wind!”
Using all the power he could wield at once, Hadjar drew the Black Blade and attacked. Because he’d known that his attacks wouldn’t be able to so much as scratch the Nameless, he’d made sure to take several crystals from the crashed ‘Drunken Goose’ and hide them in his spatial ring. Using his will, he hurled them at the King, and right in the path of his Technique. As they shattered, they created anomalies in the energy streams, similar to the vortex they’d traveled through. And although the anomalies were fleeting and weak, they’d still stop the King from using his power for a little bit. Seeing his chance, Steppe Fang snarled. Yanking the lid off one of the trays, he retrieved the bone dagger and plunged its blade into the King’s chest.
It can’t be this easy! Hadjar thought and glanced at Arkemeya, who was smiling triumphantly. The oath scar still glistened on her arm…
Everything fell into place. But it was already too late.
With a slight rustle, an aura of unimaginable power formed behind Hadjar.
“How curious… A descendant of the Enemy…”
The King snapped his fingers and Hadjar was lifted off the ground like a puppet and sent flying. Held by an invisible power, he smashed into the crystal wall and collapsed to the floor. He couldn’t move, only watch what was happening.
The couples stopped dancing and lined up around the hall. Holding their glasses, they looked at the King. He must’ve been stabbed by the dagger, but was now pacing calmly in the center of the room.
He approached the immobilized Steppe Fang. Grinning, he leaned in and patted the orc’s head.
“Nice try, but I’ll be taking this.” The King snatched the dagger from the orc and broke it in half as if it were nothing more than a toothpick. The shards landed at Arkemeya’s feet. “Your friend is waiting for you.”
Steppe Fang flew a dozen feet through the air and crashed into the wall next to Hadjar.
“And now, for our guests of honor!” The audience applauded. “The ones without whom the Black Star festival wouldn’t be complete!”
Three figures in gray robes soared into the air and flew up to the King. Their hoods fell off. Derek, Alea, and Irma stopped in front of the demon, unable to move.
“I don’t need you.”
Derek was also slammed into the wall. Taken aback and frightened, he stared at his friends in disbelief. Everything had been going so well…
The King then looked at the crying Alea and Irma. He sniffed them both, then took hold of Alea’s face and said: “I don’t need you.”
There was a nasty crunch. Energy no longer flowed through the poor girl’s body. She’d died instantly. Irma fainted. Hadjar saw tears running down Derek’s cheeks.
“Feast, ladies and gentlemen! I need to prepare the bride for the best night of her life.”
The Dah’Khasses laughed and applauded again, watching as the King walked to the doors with the unconscious Irma floating behind him.
“By the way, my dear daughter…”
“Yes, my King?” Arkemeya bowed.
The demon nodded toward the three figures pinned to the wall. “Take them to the fields. I think there’s enough room for them there.”
Chapter 606
At first, Hadjar thought that he was back in the dungeons of the Royal Palace of Lidus. However, this dungeon was more spacious and not as dark. Dim light was streaming in through the narrow gap in the wall that served as a window. There was even a bed. If straw strewn across the floor could be called such.
Hadjar got up and crawled over to the bars. Grabbing the cold steel, he tried to pull them apart, but failed. The metal had no energy of its own, so he concluded that it wasn’t an artifact, despite its apparent sturdiness.
He was surprised to discover that he wasn’t shackled, and that there was no slave collar around his neck. Even so, power wasn’t leaving his energy body. As if trapped inside his meridians and nodes, it begged to be freed. In other words, right now, he was the same as any mortal.
“What the-”
“You’re awake, great.”
Hadjar’s eyes narrowed. Opposite his cell, there was a wall with a sconce. In it, instead of a torch, was a bluish crystal. Its faint light reminded Hadjar of the lamps hanging from the Palace’s ceiling.
“Steppe Fang?”
“Yes, it’s me…” The orc’s voice came from his right, probably from the cell next to his. “Derek is still unconscious.”
This was the first time the orc had called the Lascanian by his name.
“Can you break the bars?”
“If I could do that, Darkhan, we wouldn’t still be here.”
Hadjar swore and then sighed. It had been worth a shot.
Frustrated, he slammed his fist against the bars a couple more times. Licking the blood off his broken knuckles, he walked back to the wall. Leaning his back against it, he slid to the cold floor. He presumed Steppe Fang was sitting in exactly the same position in his own cell.
“The plan didn’t work, did it?” Steppe Fang sounded disappointed. In himself, more than anyone else. “I don’t understand, Darkhan. I saw him! I felt him! I struck the very center of his power. I felt the dagger pierce his flesh and-”
“A substitution artifact.” Hadjar sighed, staring at the ceiling. Heavy drops of water would occasionally fall from it. “It had been prepared in advance.”
“But how…? I don’t understand…”
“Arkemeya.” Hadjar said the name without any hatred. She’d beaten them fair and square. “Our arrival wasn’t just noticed, but planned.”
“Did they let us break through the vortex?”
“No.” Hadjar shook his head. He twirled the spatial ring in his hands. It shone faintly in the dim light. “We broke through by ourselves. But as soon as the vortex was destroyed, the King found out about it. And-”
“Sent the half-breed,” Steppe Fang growled. “You should’ve let me rip her throat out, Darkhan!”
Hadjar sighed.
“I guess I should have,” he drawled. “But then he would’ve sent a hundred more Dah’Khasses after us.”
“Better death in battle than this!”
Steppe Fang slammed his fist against the wall. Hadjar felt a slight jolt in his back. He couldn’t argue with the orc. Indeed, it would’ve been better to fall in a worthy battle and meet their forefathers with honor.
Damn it all to hell! He hated both schemes and dungeons!
“But how did she betray us?” Steppe Fang asked. “I saw the oath scar on her hand. If it hadn’t been for that, by the forefathers, I would’ve wrung her neck.”
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 28