Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

  The barracks really was like a prison. At any rate, Hadjar had always imagined it like this, because he’d never been in prison before, only locked up in dungeons where there were no other cellmates, just rats and darkness. They’d answered with silence to every single one of his attempts to converse with them, even the stupidest ones.

  “It’s rather ironic, isn’t it?” Einen asked when he woke up.

  “It could’ve happened to anyone,” Hadjar remarked philosophically.

  “I was too arrogant.” With great difficulty, the islander sat up. Sniffing, he took a pre-prepared cup of medicine and drank it in one gulp. “I looked down on them, and the Great Turtle punished me for it. While I was meditating, these chekhars managed to put the collar on me. If not for the horror that followed, I would even admire their dexterity. They’d placed it around the head of an arrow... Apparently, I’m not the first they’ve caught like that. I managed to feel it happening, but couldn’t react in time.”

  “And then they only cut into you with knives,” Hadjar guessed from his wounds.

  “To prevent disturbances in the World River,” Einen nodded. “And they kept me conscious with some drug.”

  “What did they want?

  “That’s the weirdest thing about all of this, they wanted nothing. I would’ve told them everything. I don’t like to endure pain and I would always have time to get my revenge on them later.”

  Torture for the sake of torture... From personal experience, Hadjar knew that nothing could be worse than that. When you were tortured so someone could extract information from you, there was always the hope that the pain and torment would eventually end. When it was just for pleasure... He didn’t want to remember that...

  Emerging from his meditation, Hadjar opened his eyes and looked at his friend. He didn’t look good, but he wasn’t feeling much discomfort, either. However, there was no doubt that the people who’d tortured him were still scurrying around. Hadjar hadn’t killed all of them, he’d slain no more than eight people.

  “You’re too calm.”

  “Well,” Einen answered, wiping the elixir from his lips. “I want to believe that I’ve learned my lesson and appeased the Great Turtle. She rubbed my nose in my failure, reminding me that I am not omnipotent. Now, hopefully, when real danger comes, I’ll be fully prepared to meet it.”

  Hadjar nodded, agreeing with such an outlook.

  They talked until nightfall, recalling how and when they’d managed to get in trouble. Then they slept in shifts. However, no one attacked them that night. Apparently, Glen had decided that he should calm down for a while.

  That’s how they spent their next three days. Then Karissa came and ordered them to the Pit.

  Hadjar fought a giant bird that was a mixture of a vulture, a seagull, and a pelican. Its long, sharpened claws could barely scratch Hadjar’s chest, but he quickly separated its ugly head from its equally ugly body.

  Einen fought a sand cat. It was a pretty unpleasant adversary. It was as large as a big dog, and able to use the same Techniques as Shakh’s sand dogs. It would hide in the sand and then emerge from the most unexpected places. Hadjar didn’t know how the islander managed to deal with it.

  The following week was more of the same: they talked about the cultivation path, explored the busy city, sparred, and participated in endless fights against different creatures.

  Sometimes, their conversation briefly touched on the caravan’s fate. The friends hoped that Shakar and Shakh were searching for Serra, or at least trying to bring the survivors to the Empire. That would’ve been the fair thing to do. Of course, the contract had been nullified by Rahaim’s death, but still...

  The weeks went by in a blur.

  Two months passed imperceptibly. At the end of each month, Einen and Hadjar received three coins. Paris, who’d promised them that they’d get spots in the hunter squad in just a month, only shrugged at their questions. He said that he hadn’t received news from the hunters for a very long time, and that if they didn’t return in the near future, he would assemble a new squad.

  Over the course of their eternal sparring and battles against the beasts, Hadjar grew stronger and his understanding deepened. He was more certain than ever that neither Traves, nor the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique, or any amount of training he did on his own would help him anymore. Hadjar needed to find a place where he could progress. He needed the Empire and its numerous schools, sects, and clans.

  Everything changed when Paris himself came to the barracks.

  Chapter 350

  Paris sat at the centre table, quietly sipping his brew. His gold-embroidered velvet coat lay on the dusty floor. The jewel in his silk turban glowed faintly. He was the only person in the barracks, the other residents of it had disappeared.

  “I didn’t think we needed extra eyes and ears,” Paris said, pointing to the vacant chairs at the table.

  The Chief Researcher looked a little out of place here. He was an eastern man, but the barracks was furnished in a more western style. There were chairs, but no pillows, and there were only ordinary cups to drink from, not the bowls that desert dwellers preferred.

  Hadjar and Einen sat opposite each other at the far end of the table. It would be easier for them to mount a defense and cover each other’s back that way.

  “Before the other members of the squad join us, I’d like to hear what you know about Mage City.”

  Hadjar and Einen were dumbstruck. Does everything that happens in the Sea of Sand revolve around this myth?

  “I see you know enough,” Paris said. “That both simplifies and complicates the task, because you probably don’t know everything.”

  “I hope you’ll tell us more, honorable Paris,” Hadjar said.

  “Don’t doubt it for a second, Northerner.” The Researcher smiled slightly and sipped his brew. “It’s a strange drink: it has no taste, but intoxicates you quickly.”

  They heard very familiar footsteps, followed by the sense of an equally familiar aura. Glen sat down at the table a little stiffly. He placed the scabbard of his sword in front of him and thrust his dagger into the table. Dirt covered his leather boots.

  “It’s a drink from the Northern kingdoms,” Glen said, winking at Hadjar. “In our countries, the most important thing is for a drink to warm you up quickly, savoring the bewitching taste of an exquisite bouquet is a distant second.”

  The way he said that last sentence was a clear mockery of someone’s tone.

  “I really don’t know why mead even exists, then,” Paris said. “I certainly can’t forget its taste.”

  Glen had no comeback for that, and Hadjar, smiling at the Researcher, took out his pipe and filled it. There was clearly something interesting going on here, so he decided to just be an observer for now.

  Karissa came next. The witch, dressed in light, local female attire — which resembled both a dress and a caftan — held her hand close to her chained book. Hadjar had noticed long ago that she and Paris had a strained relationship.

  “Did you call for me, honorable Researcher?” She bowed.

  When talking to Paris, the witch always maintained a formal tone.

  “Please sit down, honorable Karissa. You can pour yourself some brew,” he said, shaking the bubbling jug at her, “but I’m not sure you’ll like it. I don’t like it at all.”

  Karissa’s eyes flashed and she poured herself a full glass of it, but didn’t drink. Women... The man who finally manages to understand them will easily become the ruler of the world.

  Karissa was followed by someone Hadjar hadn’t expected to see: Salif limped in, leaning on a staff, followed by the servant boy who’d sworn vengeance on them. It was a strange choice for Paris to make, since he was clearly aware of the relationship between them.

  “Honorable Researchers,” the old servant bowed. The boy did the same. He held a huge pile of scrolls and clay tablets.

  The servants placed it all on the table and Paris nodded. Salif and the boy began to arr
ange them in a special order: first the maps, then some scrolls, then a few figures. Once they finished, they asked for Paris’ permission and then sat down.

  The boy went to pour himself some brew, but Salif slapped his hand with his staff. The boy became even more sullen and glared at Hadjar and Einen.

  However, now that they weren’t wearing their slave collars, these glances only made them fell a bit uneasy. They both remembered how, two months ago, Einen had suffered greatly because of his arrogance.

  “They’re late,” Paris sighed.

  As if on cue, another pair entered the room. This time, Einen and Hadjar couldn’t help themselves. Springing to their feet, they grabbed their weapons and unleashed their energy, taking up defensive stances. Over the past few months, they’d learned that their amulets only punished a desire to harm a citizen. There was no penalty for demonstrating one’s power or the use of protective Techniques.

  Ramukhan and Tilis, dressed in red caftans and turbans, entered the barracks. Both of them looked like they were ready for a good fight, not like they’d come there to talk.

  “What does the Research Chamber need from the defenders of the city, Paris?” Ramukhan asked, not even approaching the table.

  “What are those bastards doing here?” Tilis added.

  Their staves were oozing energy, and the stones in their pommels shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow.

  “I would advise you to calm yourself, Ramukhan.”

  “If it hadn’t been for the Sage’s orders, I wouldn’t have even come here at all,” the city’s chief of security grimaced.

  Over the past couple of months, Hadjar had become familiar with the local hierarchy. If one ‘translated’ it into Lidish, Ramukhan and Paris were the local Dukes. The Sage was the local King. Tilis and Karissa were nobles, with no less authority than proper Lords, and they belonged to one of the two warring factions.

  The city had only one budget, but a lot of people wanted to get a few coins from it. The two biggest players on the field were the City Defenders and the Researchers. That’s why they disliked each other greatly.

  “But the order was given, and that’s why you’re here. I repeat, calm yourself and your subordinate.”

  “Or what?”

  Paris’ eyes flashed with menace. A stone slab appeared in his hands. Neither Hadjar nor Einen could’ve predicted what happened next. The glow of their blue amulets faded.

  “Or you’ll see what the two best warriors in my squad are capable of.”

  There was utter silence.

  “There’s no need to spill the blood of citizens in a battle with strangers,” Ramukhan nodded.

  “But-”

  “Shut up, Tilis, this isn’t the time to pursue your blood feud.” The Chief of Security stowed his staff.

  To Hadjar’s chagrin, Paris put the slab away as well, and their amulets once again glowed with life and energy.

  As the two Defenders sat down at the table, Paris glanced at the friends and asked them to sheathe their weapons and drop their protective Techniques. Hadjar and Einen hesitated for a moment, but fulfilled his request.

  Paris had done right by them in these past two months: he’d fed them and treated them to evenings of small talk where they’d sometimes learned useful information as well. So, they were obliged to show him respect.

  “Now that we’re all here, I’ll begin.” Paris smiled amiably. “You are all here because of your unique abilities.”

  “Thanks for the compliment,” Tilis interrupted him, “but I’d like you to get to the point.”

  Paris gave her a slightly mocking look. Tilis blushed and grabbed her staff, but she was stopped by Ramukhan’s imperious gesture.

  “Alright then. How do you feel about going on an expedition to search for the lost library in Mage City?”

  Chapter 351

  Hadjar wasn’t surprised to hear what Paris was suggesting. Surely, the rest of the strong organizations in the desert were also thinking about the same thing right now. Moreover, it would be reasonable to expect they’d run into several expeditions from the Empire. After all, it was rare you got a chance to explore a place where a god-making elixir could be found. Einen seemed to be thinking along the same lines as him. He and Hadjar looked at each other and nodded. When the Researcher had asked what they knew about Mage City, they’d assumed that the conversation would be about the library.

  “You’ve read too many scrolls, Paris. Mage City is just a fairy tale.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that we live atop their remnants?”

  That shocked Einen and Hadjar. Underworld City used the remains of Mage City somehow. How was that possible?

  “Remnants,” the Chief of Security snarled. “Some old warehouses and the menagerie you’re trying to rebuild. I’m sure that won’t do us any good.”

  “Aren’t you interested in learning the secrets of the ancient times?” Paris narrowed his eyes.

  “Do you want an honest answer? I’m far more concerned with sending expeditions to the Empire! I don’t understand how you bookworms, for some reason, always think everything old is somehow better than something new.”

  “New Techniques,” Paris said. “Maybe there’s something valuable to be found in the Land of the Immortals, but I believe far more in the existence of the library of Mage City than I do in the Immortals.”

  Hadjar said nothing. He’d spent a year in the Black Mountains as a disciple of the Shadow of the Immortal. He’d listened to stories about the distant land nestled among white clouds. It was hard to imagine — a whole country floating in the sky. A person that saw such a thing probably wouldn’t be afraid of death any more.

  “But we’re not talking about that,” the Researcher continued. “I have orders from the Sage-”

  “I don’t know what your orders were,” Ramukhan interrupted him. “The Sage only asked me to come to this meeting. I will decide whether I join this expedition or not.”

  “Then I hope you’ll like this.”

  Paris placed a small leather bag in the center of the table.

  “And… what now?”

  “Open it,” the Researcher said, “then we’ll talk more about this.”

  Ramukhan fumbled for a moment, then, resting his belly on the edge of the table, leaned over and picked up the bag. He untied its strings and peered inside. He stared at it for a moment, then handed it to Tilis with trembling hands. The witch, after assessing the contents, turned pale and almost fainted. She put the bag back on the table and leaned back in her chair. The expressions on both Defenders’ faces showed how amazed they were.

  Hadjar couldn’t resist his natural curiosity and peered inside the bag as well. He’d been prepared for anything: from an Energy Stone, all the way to a bone that was millions of years old. To his disappointment, only a fragment of a jade seal lay inside. It was certainly old, gray with age, but it radiated no energy and caused no disturbance in the currents of the World River.

  “How do I know that’s not a fake?” Ramukhan asked.

  He took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweaty forehead.

  “I think,” Paris chuckled, “the Sage’s word will be enough to convince you.”

  This argument appealed to Ramukhan and Tilis as much a bucket of cold water did. Both Defenders shuddered and fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

  “Could anyone explain to us, the stupid barbarians, what’s going on?” Hadjar asked, annoyed at his own ignorance.

  “There is an ancient map in the Sage’s chambers,” Karissa said, studying the jade fragment. “It covers such a vast territory that even a Spirit Knight wouldn’t be able to traverse all the lands on it in their allotted ten thousand years of life. This map, according to the legends, is a remnant from Mage City. In its upper right corner is the seal of the city. This shard resembles a part of it.”

  “It doesn’t just resemble it. It is a part of it.” Paris shook his head. “The Sage compared the patterns for a month, until he confirm
ed my assumptions. That jade fragment is really from the city. Just like the map.”

  South Wind had told Hadjar about this map. The Scholar had claimed it was no smaller than the one in the Royal Palace of Lidus, but had been made on a scale that was a hundred times larger, covering a lot more territory than the map in Lidus.

  He now understood how the Sea of Sand, which wasn’t considered a very enlightened region, had such a treasure. Them having access to relics from Mage City was a logical explanation.

  “Is this why the last group of hunters disappeared?” Karissa put the jade aside.

  Paris nodded a little stiffly.

  “I lost contact with them two months ago,” he said sadly. “I’d hoped it was because of the anomalies of the region they were in, but... I know better now. All of them most likely died by Sankesh’s men’s swords, or fell victim to traps, or the animals that dwell there killed them.”

  “Animals?” Tilis asked.

  Paris nodded.

  “Mage City is an ancient land. It’s older than both Lascan and Darnassus. Mages and practitioners who lived there bent the streams of the World River, gathering and storing up its energy. Over millions of years, these changes must’ve somehow transformed the environment in that area, making it more violent and dangerous. And the animals that lived there most likely transformed along with their surroundings.”

  “In other words...” Ramukhan said, his gaze hardening, “You’re saying we might encounter monsters we don’t know about out there.”

  “Or ones you’re familiar with, but they’ll be far more powerful than their unchanged counterparts. Or you might come across creatures you’ve never even heard about. Or maybe you won’t find anything. There is not enough information, even in myths and tales, to say anything with certainty…”

  Einen suddenly slammed his hand down on the table so hard it cracked.

  “What area are you even talking about? Nobody knows where the city is!”