Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

  Mountain Wind struck Olgerd’s shield with all its weight and force. The warrior staggered, took three steps back, and then assumed a defensive stance. Hadjar, moving so quickly that he turned into a bird’s shadow to most of the spectators, struck at all angles and from the most unexpected of directions. However, each time, instead of flesh, he hit only the shield or the saber.

  “Stop playing with your food, Olgerd,” Sankesh’s voice overlapped with the noise of the battle.

  “Yes, my konung,” the northerner said.

  After he blocked a few more blows, he made a sudden movement with his shield. Hadjar, who’d just landed on his right leg, hadn’t had time to fully plant his feet on the ground. Besides, there was ice around them again. So he had to take the attack on his shoulder. He was flung aside like a speck of dust. After flying several feet through the air, he managed to shake it off and take control of his body. A saber that had shot out of the ice served as a perfect platform for his feet.

  From the outside, it looked elegant and fascinating: a man spinning like a top in the air, standing on the tip of an ice saber. No one except Hadjar knew just how difficult it actually was. The northerner struck his shield three times with the hilt of his saber.

  “Blizzard!” He plunged his weapon into the ice beneath his feet and struck it with his shield. A huge crack snaked across the icy wasteland. The ice saber Hadjar was standing turned into a mass of snowflakes. The ice cracked beneath him. Everything was drawn back to Olgerd, merging together and turning into a huge tornado. Gradually, it transformed from a funnel into a sphere. It grew with every breath until it covered the whole area they were fighting in. Hadjar, standing in the middle of the Blizzard, could barely see anything.

  The warriors of Sankesh’s army, who had already seen this Technique before, expected to hear the terrible screams of the dying man, followed by seeing Olgerd towering over his foe’s body. So, they were surprised when there was no cry. Instead, they heard the clanging of metal on metal.

  Olgerd got behind his opponent and launched his famous slashing attack. He had fought in hundreds of battles during the two centuries he’d lived in the north. However, Hadjar, who was only about thirty, had managed to survive thousands of them, and each of them had been to the death. His instincts had long surpassed Hadjar’s age and stage of cultivation.

  Without even looking back, he placed his blade behind him, across his back, and blocked Olgerd’s strike. Turning on his heel, Hadjar launched a swift counterattack, but Mountain Wind didn’t cut Olgerd, destroying a snow sculpture instead. The northerner had disappeared once more.

  Hadjar was alone in the middle of the howling wind and blizzard. Snow swirled around him, obscuring his view. All other sounds disappeared, and only the whistling of the wind and the beating of his heart remained. He could see nothing, so Hadjar closed his eyes and held the hilt of his sword in both hands.

  Chapter 373

  The battle dragged on. It had already lasted five minutes, which, for a fight between a cultivator and a practitioner, was something incredible. Such battles usually ended in a few seconds. What was going on now looked like a fight between two cultivators.

  Most of the spectators weren’t able to see the battle through the sphere of the blizzard. Only a few warriors who were strong enough continued to observe the battle.

  By closing his eyes, Hadjar hadn’t hindered his perception. He’d just gotten rid of all the distractions. His hearing, touch, and even his sense of smell had replaced his vision.

  The blizzard hid what was happening around him perfectly. Hadjar was grateful to Einen for all the sparring they’d done. If not for the fact that he’d often fought a man who could disappear into the ground, Hadjar would’ve been in trouble.

  His current state, similar to light meditation, allowed Hadjar to get rid of all unnecessary thoughts and react with lightning speed to changes in the environment.

  Suddenly, a shooting star flashed in the darkness, somewhere to his left.

  Olgerd, hiding in the snow like his totem — the snow leopard — was certain that his enemy couldn’t detect his presence. Moreover, many mid-stage Heaven Soldiers couldn’t have done so, either. No matter how talented this young man was, everyone had their limits.

  The blizzard allowed Olgerd to move faster than many cultivators who followed the Way of Speed. So, he was fully confident that his next attack would succeed. Emerging from the snowy expanse, he made a quick thrust.

  He was surprised when the young warrior easily sidestepped and his sword hissed like a snake through the snow, glancing off Olgerd’s shoulder. He growled more in frustration than in pain. Putting some distance between them once again, he disappeared into the snow.

  Hadjar shook his head. Judging by the tactile feedback, his attack had probably struck the northerner’s clavicle, even though he’d been aiming at the man’s throat. He understood that the element of surprise had been completely lost and now Olgerd would be ten times more cautious.

  Everything happened just as Hadjar had predicted. The next ten blows they exchanged followed the same pattern. The northerner attacked him with the savage intensity of a snow leopard, and Hadjar repelled his attacks, unable to counterattack.

  When two stars flashed in the darkness at the same time, Hadjar figured that Olgerd was going to try and deceive him. After deflecting the brighter one, he suddenly felt a jolt of pain in his long-suffering left side.

  Hadjar staggered back, opened his eyes, and saw not one, but two Olgerds in front of him! They were the same, absolutely identical, and stood before him, ready to strike.

  “What the fu-”

  Hadjar didn’t have time to finish cursing, as both Olgerds charged in to attack. Ice started to spread across Hadjar’s left side. It slowed him down and froze his blood. Only his Technique for Strengthening the Body saved him. If not for it, the shards of ice would’ve ripped his heart to pieces.

  Hadjar parried the swing of one opponent and dived under the attack of the second.

  Olgerd... The Olgerds continued their assault. They pressed Hadjar back, forcing him to give ground. More and more icy cuts appeared on his body, which made Hadjar slower and his swings weaker.

  As he tried to block once more, Hadjar didn’t understand what was happening at first. Mountain Wind was heavier than the average sword, but not so much that it was difficult to hold it up. However, Hadjar suddenly realized that he might not have enough strength and power left to keep the Technique for Strengthening the Body going and also hold his blade properly in order to keep fighting.

  He looked up and saw the exact same ice that was on his body spreading across the cutting edge of his sword.

  The Olgerds’ blades radiated cold, and ice runes shone across their steel. Raising their shields in front of them, they began to advance on Hadjar, trying to box him in between them.

  His desire to test his power was becoming a fatal one. Hadjar mentally called to his inner black blade and put it into his real one. To Olgerd’s shock, the ice enveloping his foe’s sword was then broken by wisps of black fog that it was radiating.

  Hadjar, keeping only a quarter of his energy supply in reserve, used the Spring Wind stance.

  Less than a year ago, Traves’ words about combining the energy of the Sword and the Wind had seemed to him like incomprehensible rambling. But now he understood the essence of the third stance more clearly. It allowed him to combine several flows of energy at once. It was easy for Hadjar to find a reflection of the Sword Spirit anywhere, even in a drop of water, so he could definitely use any other flow of energy with it as well.

  Now the Spring Wind stance was as illusory and volatile as the very thing it had been named after.

  “Spring Wind,” Hadjar said, simultaneously making three swift swings.

  The first strike, using the snow circling around them, shot forward and assumed the form of a white dragon. The second strike, incorporating the wind, became a blue dragon. The third, using his own power, his will
, and knowledge of the Way of the Sword, manifested as a black dragon.

  They, intertwined around each other, fell upon the enemy with all their might and fury. The two Olgerds joined forces and created the image of a brown bear with their shields, keeping the raging dragons back. Hadjar was pushing hard. He felt the energy escaping through his fingers, but still pressed on. This was his final chance...

  “You’ve fought gloriously, boy.”

  ...His final chance to lure the real Olgerd out!

  Appearing out of the snow behind him, the real northerner slashed at Hadjar’s head with his saber. He brought the weapon down with the force of lightning arcing down from the sky. He buried his blade in Hadjar’s head, dug in and, not meeting any resistance, kept on going.

  Hadjar, emerging from the shadow of the Seven Ravens, turned to the little dragon sleeping inside him. Together with the dragon and the black blade, he imagined an autumn leaf falling on the real Olgerd’s chest, who’d had no time to recover from the reversal.

  Using the remainder of his energy, even allowing the ice to surge into his own body, Hadjar roared: “Falling Leaf!” He attacked with a vicious upward slash.

  The three dragons disappeared and the fake Olgerds turned into snow dust.

  The spectators watched as the blue and black flashes of a storm bloomed inside the snow sphere. Merging together, they tore apart the shackles of snowy captivity and shot out, assuming the form of a blade that had a sleeping dragon inside it.

  Suddenly, everything disappeared. The blade dissolved in the air, the snow melted on the sand. Only two men remained.

  Hadjar was leaning on his sword. He was breathing heavily. His wounds, which had recently been covered in ice, were now bleeding profusely.

  “You’ve fought gloriously...” Olgerd, who was standing opposite him, whispered.

  He put his hand to his bloody chest. The wound was so deep and horrific that his shattered ribcage and bisected heart could be seen through it. Already dying, the northerner turned to Sankesh and saluted him.

  The King of the Desert stood nearby. Hadjar had expected him to react somehow — to nod, or close his eyes, to somehow acknowledge his subordinate’s deed. However, Sankesh only said “Worthless weakling!” and grabbed his blade.

  Praise the gods, Olgerd died before he heard what the maniac had said.

  “Fuck the laws of hospitality, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Behind Sankesh, his monstrous aura spread out like a huge blanket. Hadjar had no doubt that he would be meeting his ancestors soon. Maybe if he’d been uninjured and well-rested, he could’ve tried to flee, but right now...

  “Father!” Arliksha again knelt in front of Sankesh.

  “Konung!” Eight mighty northerners stood up.

  Hadjar cursed quietly. Each of them was much stronger than Olgerd had been. Their leader, a gray-haired old man who had awful scars across his face... Damn it all, he radiated an aura only slightly weaker than that of Sankesh himself.

  The King of the Desert looked like an enraged beast that had suddenly found itself behind bars. With a loud roar, he drove his halberd into the ground, causing a huge pillar of sand to erupt toward the sky.

  “Leave, you damned worm. Whine and howl impotently as you await your demise, for I, Sunshine Sankesh, will soon come for you.”

  Chapter 374

  Stumbling, Hadjar hobbled toward the camp. Despite using his sword as a crutch and watering the dunes with his blood, he kept walking forward. Suddenly, his sword bent and Hadjar fell down. But instead of finding himself sprawled out on the ground, he was leaning on his friend’s shoulder.

  “They beat all the shit out of you,” Einen said as he emerged from the shadows.

  “Why do you say that?” Hadjar grinned.

  “You’re much lighter now.”

  The islander helped Hadjar get to the camp. He’d been absent for only a few hours, but Ramukhan and the others had managed to move a great distance toward the east. If not for the camels they’d left behind for the two of them at their previous camp, Hadjar and Einen wouldn’t have caught up to them. It took Einen two and a half hours of frantic riding to move Hadjar’s unconscious body to the new camp. Einen jumped down and pulled Hadjar off the camel’s back.

  “Evening Stars!” Ramukhan muttered through clenched teeth. “Quick, bring a stretcher for him! Salif, tell the boy to prepare some medicine.”

  Turning to the boy, the sorcerer added: “Don’t put anything unsavory in the medicine. Otherwise, you’ll pray for death by the time I’m done with you.”

  The boy swallowed and nodded. Having lived his entire life in Underworld City (he was the son of a servant), he knew very well what angry sorcerers and witches were capable of.

  Hadjar was placed on the stretcher, near a merrily crackling fire. It reminded him of the evenings when the three of them — him, Nero, and Sera— had roasted meat on a fire, away from the main military camp. Nehen had never joined them. Hadjar should’ve understood then that the two of them had no future...

  “What happened to him?” Karissa’s worried voice was muffled, as if she were speaking through a veil.

  Hadjar didn’t see what was happening around him, just the blurry orange flame nearby.

  “He’s an idiot, that’s what happened!” Ramukhan growled out. “We had to use our best concealment amulets, and now he’s exposed us-”

  “They have about six hundred strong practitioners,” Hadjar muttered, interrupting him. “Sankesh’s daughter is very hard to read... she could be a Soldier or a Knight... Sankesh’s personal guards. Nine, no… eight people, now. Seven of them... are Heaven Soldiers. One... is a Knight. They’re very strong…”

  “What about little Serra?” Einen asked.

  Tilis, upon hearing the familiar name, flinched like she’d been whipped, but said nothing.

  “She is... not with them,” Hadjar croaked. “She’s somewhere nearby... I don’t know... where. They are hiding her... She... can... probably… sense the entrance. The key... Compass ...”

  “That explains how Sankesh knows where to go,” the islander nodded. “Now sleep, my friend. Leave the rest to us. Regain your strength and power. Let the Great Turtle cover you with its shell.”

  Einen put his hand on Hadjar’s forehead, and he was carried off, far away. For a moment, it really felt like the shell of a huge turtle had fallen on him. As big as a whole mountain range, it sheltered him from all his troubles and worries. Just like his mother had, long ago...

  Hadjar opened his eyes.

  A bonfire was crackling nearby. Dry pine and aspen logs, folded into the shape of a pyramid, sparked slightly from time to time. The sparks stung him pleasantly and weren’t painful. There was a thick predawn fog lingering over the low grass. The sedge rustled. The full moon shone. It illuminated the wide lake and its banks, which Hadjar was sitting on. He watched a little fir tree swinging in the wind. Hadjar liked fir trees. They reminded him of his old dream world, where they would be decorated for a holiday with a funny name. New Year. He’d always liked that holiday.

  “She’ll soon be here,” came from nearby.

  Another man was sitting at the fire. He filled his pipe and offered a bag of tobacco to Hadjar. He nodded gratefully, accepted it, and filled his own pipe. It was the tobacco that little Eina from the brothel ‘Innocent Meadow’ had given him. It was amazing... Once, she’d been older than him, but now she would forever be younger...

  “I like it here.” Nero took a drag and then let out a line of little smoke rings into the sky. He’d always done that better than Hadjar. “It’s so peaceful. Sometimes, I even want to stay here.”

  “Well, then stay,” Hadjar answered, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself.

  Nero turned to him and smiled. That kind of smile usually meant trouble.

  “You know that I can’t do that, brother,” Nero answered... Or Eren did... “I... We... We have to move on.”

  Hadjar nodded.

  Tonight was
the night when Nero’s and Serra’s souls had to leave the home of their ancestors and move on to their rebirth. Their next lives would depend on how their forefathers had met them and their judgment.

  “Am I dreaming?” Hadjar asked. “Or am I really... really…” the words were difficult to say, “…talking to you?”

  Nero smiled again and exhaled some more smoke rings.

  “I don’t know, brother, I don’t know. Does it really matter?”

  Hadjar took a long drag from his pipe. The potent, fragrant smoke entered his lungs, causing him to cough. It was quite powerful.

  Nero laughed and nudged Hadjar with his shoulder. It was such a familiar gesture, one that Hadjar missed so much that he involuntarily touched the sleeve of his caftan.

  “I never said goodbye to you,” Hadjar sighed. “I didn’t take you... on your last journey, didn’t bring your body to the fire and honor it. I didn’t… save you, brother.”

  The smile disappeared from Nero’s face. Putting his pipe aside, he peered into the flickering flames.

  “But you kept your promise, Hadjar. You took us with you on your journey.”

  In Hadjar’s hands, the leather wallet with the two wedding bracelets appeared. “But we should have-”

  A warm, calloused palm rested on his shoulder.

  “Stop it, brother,” Nero shook his head. “It was my choice to make. I don’t regret it for a second. By the gods, I don’t regret that I joined the army and became your friend. I don’t regret that the gods rewarded me with such an amazing brother. I don’t regret that I found my death close to you, side by side, as it had always been. So do me a favor and stop thinking of yourself as the center of the world. People die every day, regardless of your desires. Live, brother, and give all those who are in your way fucking hell. Don’t forget that we were going to find out if this world is truly boundless. Therefore, a very long journey still awaits you.”