“Northerner-”
Hadjar silenced her with a single glance. Ilmena nodded, cleared her throat, and drank the remnants of someone’s hooch.
“Ugh, gross! Is this what you drink up there in the north?” the girl grimaced, waving her hands around. “So, barbarian, are we going or not? Or is only one of your two swords any good? Is your second sword too small?”
Such a statement would’ve probably hurt some boy and provoked him, but not Hadjar. His rational mind could always quell his fiery temper. Otherwise, thanks to the dragon heart in his chest, he would’ve found himself fighting at the drop of a hat.
“Have you come here to hurt the boy or to forget about your fight?”
It wasn’t difficult to guess that the ‘boy’ Hadjar was referring to was the chief’s nephew.
Ilmena tried to give Hadjar a haughty look but snorted drunkenly and nearly fell off her stool.
“Maybe I’ve come for you,” she said. “You are reliable and strong, Northerner. Many local women, despite your skin color, would be happy to share their bed with you.”
“But not you,” Hadjar smiled slightly.
Ilmena squinted and then swore. Clumsily, awkwardly, all the while blushing heavily as she did so. Maybe she’d been with more than one man, but at the same time, she was still very innocent. This realization killed the last remnants of Hadjar’s desire faster than a bucket of cold water poured directly onto his crotch.
“But you’ll come with me anyway,” she didn’t ask, but stated.
“I’ll go,” Hadjar nodded.
She grabbed his wrist again. This time, Hadjar didn’t resist. As he was dragged away, he scooped up Azrea and put her in his turban. Ilmena led him outside. She clung to him like a contented cat and led him somewhere in the direction of the residential buildings.
People were still running around everywhere. Many of them looked askance at the couple. They passed the bazaar and then turned toward a dark street.
Hadjar grabbed Ilmena and pulled her to him.
“You are hot, Northerner,” she whispered in his ear. Her palm slid over Hadjar’s caftan. He smiled and whispered: “Let’s just be friends.”
Stunned, Ilmena didn’t have time to understand what he meant before Hadjar gently, but quickly and accurately, struck her temple with his thumb. The girl’s eyes rolled back and she went limp in his hands.
“Why do unconscious people weigh so much?” Hadjar grumbled, carrying Ilmena in his arms.
Easily pushing off the ground, Hadjar jumped onto the roof of the nearest house. He ran past the central part of the town until he came near the wall. Compared to the walls of Lidish cities, these walls of sand crowned with sharpened logs didn’t inspire much respect in him.
Six guards patrolled here at night. Each of them was at least at the last Stage of the Formation level. In the north, they would’ve immediately been given the rank of Senior Officer, but here they were simple guards — not the most honorable and well-paid position for a warrior. Hadjar could’ve easily cut down all six of them, but there was no need to kill the guards.
Taking off again, he quickly and imperceptibly moved toward the wall. Standing on the tip of one of the logs, Hadjar peered into the desert that lay before him. He would soon be going on a journey that might end before it even began. Or perhaps it would change his life forever. But that wasn’t his main concern right now.
Adjusting his grip on Ilmena’s body, making sure she doesn’t slip out of his grasp, Hadjar, like a shadow, slid down the wall and found himself outside the town.
Just half an hour’s walk from the town, under a small bush, was one of Hadjar’s caches — a chest that had been buried in the sand.
Setting Ilmena down beside him, Hadjar dug out his meager possessions. There were only a few things inside the chest: the white fur coat (which was unlikely to come in handy in the near future), a sleeping bag, the Moon Army General’s medallion, scrolls, and several covers. Hadjar had actually been looking for them.
Spreading the covers out on the sand, Hadjar laid Ilmena down on them and covered her with a thick blanket. After making sure she was comfortably situated, he lit some tobacco in his pipe and raised his eyes to the stars.
The desert sky, compared to the one in Lidus, was the same as a jewelry store compared to a street vendor’s jewelry tray. At times, Hadjar even thought that it was lighter here at night than during the day. Light poured from the sky like water through slits in black velvet.
“Maybe you should stop hiding, Einen,” Hadjar said into the night.
After a couple of seconds, the islander came out of the shadow cast by the fire. A simple ragbag hung on his shoulder, and he held the same staff he always did in his hands. Instead of sandals, he wore leather boots of some kind.
“You couldn’t feel my presence, Northerner.”
“Yeah,” Hadjar confirmed freely. “I just knew you’d be nearby.”
The islander sat down next to him and pulled out a long, thin pipe from the folds of his clothes.
“We’re going to be travelling together for a long time, Northerner,” Einen said. “It’s better to share one’s fate with a friend for three years than with a foe.”
“A friend it is, then,” Hadjar replied with a nod.
They stayed silent for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Ilmena woke up with a headache and without any recollection of what had happened last night. It turned out to be nearly impossible to convince the girl that neither she nor her honor had suffered in any way.
Apparently, Einen’s honest eyes convinced her, because after half an hour, Ilmena sheathed her daggers and no longer wanted to kill anyone with them.
An hour later, the three of them approached the designated meeting spot where Shakar, his camel, and Shakh stood. From the boy’s glance, Hadjar understood that the young man’s head was full of horrible thoughts. Jealousy was a terrible thing.
“It’s good that you are also here, honorable Ilmena,” the chief of security nodded politely. Such politeness from a cultivator and a practitioner were unusual only in the Empire and Lidus. Around here, not having any manners meant losing the respect of others.
“Unfortunately, we lost two of our guards last night, so if you still want to go with us, you are more than welcome to do so.”
Naturally, Ilmena agreed. Hadjar noticed bandages on Shakh’s arms. He hoped that this was nothing more than a coincidence, otherwise the journey through the sands could become even more interesting than he’d first expected it to be.
Chapter 265
Einen and Hadjar looked very concerned about the news. Well, inasmuch as the bald islander’s poker face could express any emotions.
“This is against my rules, but considering the situation,” Shakar continued, “I’ll delay the caravan for half an hour so that you, Ilmena, can have enough time to get your things.”
The girl shook her head and then immediately grimaced. Her neck ached after yesterday’s binge. Not to mention her head: alcohol, heads, and the morning after heavy drinking had never been allies.
“I have everything I need for the trip,” the girl said.
Despite the fact that everyone was skeptical, seeing as she was wearing only light leather pants and a female breastplate, they didn’t argue. Among practitioners, and indeed, among strangers as well, that wasn’t acceptable. They weren’t friends or relatives, so trying to take care of each other would’ve been odd.
Only Shakh tried to say something, but was stopped by a powerful wave of Shakar’s hand. Hadjar once again felt a pang of nostalgia. In the past, he would’ve cut off any burgeoning dispute among the Senior Officers of the Moon Army with that same gesture. Now, not even a year later, the memory seemed almost surreal.
“Then we’re starting right away. The caravan leaves in the evening, so you’ll have the whole day to get acquainted with our route, senior cameleers, and everything else you need to know.”
Shakar clicked his tongue an
d his camel moved forward. Shakh followed him. Only after those two were ten yards away did the trio begin to move.
Not that they preferred to stick together, but everyone had a strong desire to stay away from the Heaven Soldier and his nephew. Hadjar didn’t know what reasons Einen and Ilmena had, but he was going to rest a bit and enjoy the sunrise.
The sun was slowly rising above the flat surface of the scorched sands. Illuminating the rocks jutting out of the sand in a golden glow, it cut through the azure expanse, desperately battling against the fading darkness. In the west, the stars were still shining and the moon was running from its pursuer.
The heat caressed the caravaneers’ faces, and they hastily put on silk scarves so that their lips wouldn’t dry out and to avoid getting a sore throat. Lifting his scarf up to the bridge of his nose, Hadjar looked at the clouds, which were like wings that had been spread wide around the fireball. Like two blades, they circled around it but didn’t dare come closer.
Hadjar touched the hilt of his sword. In moments like these, he regretted that he didn’t have a week available to engage in some deep meditation. Maybe then he could grab the bird of inspiration by the tail and advance a little further along the Way of the Sword Spirit.
He often found himself seeing the Sword’s shadow even in the simplest of items: the spoon he held when eating unappetizing soup; in the women who he sometimes caressed, all too rarely; in the way he spoke and even thought; in the way his feet moved across the sand; in the sand itself; in a gust of wind, telling him stories about distant lands and amazing places. The elusive Sword’s shadow, comparable to a mirage, was hidden within all of this. This feeling, like an old, unreachable itch, had settled somewhere in the back of his head and now haunted Hadjar.
“Northerner,” Einen, walking beside him, whispered in the language of the islands. Ilmena turned around, frowned slightly, and quickened her pace, but she was obviously planning to eavesdrop on them. “I don’t like this situation, Northerner. The disappearance of two guards on the night before the caravan departs is a bad omen.”
Hadjar looked at Ilmena. Why was she listening when she didn’t know the language?
“Do you suspect Shakh did it?”
“That boy?” Einen seemed surprised. “He’s as hot as a geyser of lava, but as soft as the snow in early spring. He injured his hands when he hit a wall.”
Hadjar thought this over. Indeed, the wounds that he’d noticed on Shakh’s hands couldn’t be the result of a battle. Well, unless the fight was against a stationary, rough surface.
“Young hearts are like a tide during the storm,” Hadjar could swear by his ancestors that the islander even smiled as he said this, “but their minds are like amber when it comes to most things. Motionless and dead.”
“If what you’re saying is true, then who would be interested in causing problems for a simple caravan?”
Einen turned slightly toward him, looked into his eyes, and shook his head.
“I don’t know, Northerner. That’s why I propose that we stick together.”
“And why do you think that I trust you?”
Einen laughed. His laughter was unpleasant, like a dolphin’s squeak or a hungry gull’s squawking. Hadjar frowned, and Ilmena, cursing all the while, quickened her pace and almost caught up with the chief of security.
“No one mentioned trust, barbarian.”
Hadjar suddenly got it.
“You suspected me,” he said. “That’s why you watched me all night. You saw that I’d knocked Ilmena out, so you were wary of me.”
Einen nodded. His knuckles paled as he tightened his grip on his fighting staff, as if preparing for battle.
“I thought you were going to kill her.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. The Big Turtle as my witness, I just don’t want to get stabbed in the back.”
Hadjar grimaced and spat on the ground, which drew the condemning glances of all the locals. Around here, moisture, even saliva, was treated like gold was in Lidus.
“I thought you wanted to be my friend.”
“I still do,” Einen nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, barbarian. If you were involved in this accident, I’ll watch you and I’ll be able to better understand the situation. If not, and I suspected you for no reason, I’ll have a strong warrior at my side. Either way, it’s convenient. It’s the same for you.”
Hadjar looked at the calm islander. His bald head, which he hadn’t wrapped in a turban, glistened slightly. His people’s beliefs didn’t allow him to do so. Nehen had never worn a headdress and hadn’t braided her hair, either. It had always rested on her shoulders and back like a dark waterfall.
“We are both strangers here,” Hadjar sighed, sipping a little from his waterskin, just to wet his lips.
“Indeed we are,” Einen nodded.
Then they continued walking in silence.
The caravan stopped a short distance from the town. The sun hadn’t even risen to its zenith when Shakar finally brought them over to see the rest of the people traveling with them.
The sight baffled Hadjar. He’d expected to see something similar to a camp of wandering circus performers, only on a larger scale. In reality, stretched out across the sand, rocks, and small, thorny vegetation, there was a small tent town. There were even some shoddy wooden constructions present. The people fussed over everything and the cries of the cameleers and animals rang out. Several hundred tents and a lot more than a thousand people could be seen.
All of them were doing something: packing things in bales, securing provisions with ropes, loading the animals up. Most of the men were dressed in simple caftans, white or gray. Women wore red and blue ones, which protected them from the blazing sun a bit better.
People wearing light leather armor and silk cloaks draped over their shoulders were walking through the camp. They were guards. Hadjar was surprised to see that they didn’t just wander around, shooting suspicious glances at everyone and everything, but instead hurried to help everyone who asked them.
“It’s impossible to survive in the desert without mutual assistance,” Ilmena whispered after catching up with Hadjar. “You barbarians don’t understand that.”
Hadjar didn’t reply. He was still shocked. How was this small settlement, something he would’ve never called a mere ‘caravan’, supposed to cross the desert in just three years?
By all the gods and demons! It was impossible.
Apparently, only Hadjar didn’t believe they could make it and, perhaps, Einen. Shakar and his nephew shouted at them: “Hurry up! We’re leaving for the Sea of Sand as soon as the sun sets!”
Chapter 266
Walking through the busy crowd, Hadjar heard several different languages. He couldn’t understand some of them and didn’t even recognize a few. These kinds of caravans were the only way to get to the Empire available to regular people. Of course, most of the caravan members were desert dwellers, but a third of them were foreigners.
That meant that not all the guards who saluted Shakar in the desert people’s manner (placing two fingers on their lips and then on their forehead), had bronze skin. Hadjar thought he spotted several of his countrymen, but they immediately disappeared in the crowd.
“Now I’ll introduce you to the owner of the caravan,” Shakar said. “But before I do, listen and remember well the rules by which you’ll be living in the coming years... Or until the sands carry your souls away.”
He’d used the word ‘souls’ deliberately. The locals believed that a person had three souls: the Past Soul, determining a person’s circumstances at birth, the Present Soul, shaping a person’s fate depending on their deeds, and the Future Soul, which was both the most mysterious and most valuable, as it determined a person’s fate after their death and whether the ancestors would accept them into their house.
“Every day, the guards get up an hour before everyone else. Each of you patrols your section of the caravan, checking to make sure everyone is alive, healthy, and
has enough water and food for a day’s travel. You’ll be assigned to the fourteenth central section.”
The guards weren’t the only ones who greeted Shakar. Many of the people paused what they were doing to talk to the chief of security. They showed him genuine respect.
The Heaven Soldier was a prominent figure, both because of his power and the fact that the caravans under his command tended to get to their destination intact and unharmed. Caravans often disappeared in the desert and no one in the Empire ever saw them again.
“You’ll get food and water every day. Your daily portion is a liter of water and dinner. Everything else is up to you to buy with your own money. In the event we fight someone or... something, everything you earn with your blade is yours.”
“What happens if someone challenges us?” Ilmena asked.
“No one challenges anyone here,” Shakar responded. “We don’t need to add problems to the pile, it’s large enough as it is.”
Hadjar didn’t hear most of what was being said. He couldn’t take his eyes off of three huge, fat, reptilian creatures that were lumbering toward the center of the caravan. They were no less than fifteen feet tall. They had wide, long necks, square heads, flat jaws, and green eyes. Their skin hung down in flaps. Water could be heard sloshing around in their huge bellies.
Alongside the lizards... ran hens. Well, something similar to them, at any rate. They were birds as big as a horse, with predatory beaks and rows of sharp, yellow fangs. Desert dwellers wearing white caftans and colorful scarves rode on their backs. They emanated the auras of practitioners at the Transformation of the Mortal Shell Stage.
“Shakar!” one of the riders shouted. He wore a green scarf and had a short spear and a heavy, round shield attached to his saddle. He rode up to the cultivator, saluted, and then glanced at the strangers.
“Newbies?” he asked.
“That’s right, Kharad,” Shakar nodded.
Dragon Heart: Sea of Sand. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 4 Page 5
