“Spirit,” Karissa prompted.
“Yes,” Glen nodded.
“We destroyed them.” Ramukhan said, sounding like he alone had killed the sand monsters.
The Baliumian blinked a couple of times, rubbed his chest, was surprised to find a new scar there, and then exhaled with relief. After a moment, he grabbed his saber again and looked around frantically.
“Them?” He asked. “There was only one spirit. It climbed out of the sand with a saber and-”
“You missed a lot of things,” Hadjar interrupted him and turned to the sorcerer. “Where are we heading now, Ramukhan?”
Karissa and Tilis had already gathered their things and were carrying their small bags over their shoulders. The bags contained special potions, several artifacts, and a small amount of provisions. The residents of Underworld City travelled light.
“Let’s continue toward the mountains,” Ramukhan answered after some deliberation, “we have no other choice. After that battle, we lost a lot of time and, most likely, lost our lead. If Sankesh hasn’t found an entrance yet, he’ll probably fine one soon.”
“We must hurry,” Karissa added.
The witch, setting an example for the rest, was the first to start heading toward the mountains to the east. Soon, the squad stretched out like a snake, following after her. Karissa kept her book open. The runes and hieroglyphics on its pages glowed. Two fiery shadows in hoods moved in front of them. Acting as scouts under the witch’s strict guidance, they carefully checked the nearby dunes. After shooting a flurry of miniature fireballs at them, they made the squad stand still as they prepared for another battle. However, either luck was smiling down on them, or Sankesh had appeared somewhere in the desert, and the spirits guarding Mage City, sensing a more serious threat, were rushing toward him.
“Ramukhan said that you patched me up,” Glen came up to Hadjar and Einen after talking about something with the sorcerer.
Einen glanced at him with his usual, stony expression.
“Don’t mention it.”
“And yet,” the Baliumian looked more serious than ever, “I know we got off on the wrong foot. However, you need to see it from my perspective: I didn’t have a choice. It was a tradition, not something I could defy.”
Hadjar stayed silent. He doubted Ramukhan had been talking to Glen about this for three hours. Besides, even if deceiving the newcomers was a tradition, Einen’s crucifixion had clearly been Glen’s idea.
“Don’t mention it. I didn’t help you because I like you, but to maintain the strength of the squad. So, I helped myself more than you. You don’t owe me anything, and let’s leave it at that.”
For a while, Glen walked beside them silently. The mercilessly scorching sun had almost no effect on the practitioners, but the citizens walking ahead of them were only managing thanks to their amulets. Their pace was so slow that it was just an easy walk to Hadjar. A deadly one, mind you, along the crests of dunes that, at any moment, could come to life and send them to their forefathers.
“I understand,” Glen finally broke the silence, “and yet... I’ve heard about you, Mad General, and about what you did for my homeland...”
The Baliumian’s eyes dimmed as if he were looking not in front of him, but somewhere deep inside, into his past.
“I have a difficult relationship with Balium,” he continued. “We did a lot of evil things to each other.” Glen rolled up his left sleeve, showing a burn scar. Such marks were put on convicts in Balium. “But nobody gets to choose their homeland. In addition, I left my parents and brothers there. So, thank you for their sake, at least.”
Without waiting for an answer, he quickened his pace and moved ahead of them once more.
“Do you believe him?” Einen asked his friend curiously.
Hadjar looked at Glen’s back.
“Not for a second.”
The friends didn’t say anything else after that. The desert, surprisingly, didn’t throw anything else at them. Hadjar, taking advantage of the lull, remembered the picture from the ancient scroll. For some reason, he felt like he’d already met the swordsman depicted there. He felt some vague kinship with him. However, it was unlikely that such a monster could be found among the ancestors of the Lidish royal family. It was difficult to imagine the power that the swordsman had possessed during his lifetime. If a simple picture of his attack could kill a strong practitioner such as Hadjar, what would his real life self been capable of?
Hadjar guessed that the portrait depicted a dead man. Given the age of the scroll, the man had died back when a true sea had stood in this region, instead of the Sea of Sand. Or maybe a forest. Or huge, snowcapped mountain ranges had filled the entire area, and eagles had soared in the sky. Regardless, it had happened so long ago that even an approximate time period was difficult to determine...
Karissa’s suddenly raised fist interrupted Hadjar’s thoughts. The squad stopped at the top of the dune, and the landscape behind it was visible only to the witch.
“Watch out,” she whispered. “We aren’t alone.”
Crouching, the rest of the squad crowded around on the crest of the dune. Below, at the foot of it, about one thousand feet down, there was a rather large group of practitioners and cultivators. Some of them were wrapped in cloaks and held staves in their hands. Slightly flickering stones shone atop them.
“I thought that sorcerers and witches only lived in Underworld City,” Hadjar whispered.
“Yes,” Ramukhan answered through clenched teeth, obviously angry. “But not everyone agrees with the Sage’s policy.”
“Not everyone wants to live underground,” Karissa explained, “many go up to the surface and... never return. They choose a life up above, among strangers, instead. Over time, these people are removed from the lists of citizens.”
“And some of them die here,” Tilis said with the same malicious anger Ramukhan had displayed.
In total, the enemy squad numbered no less than fifty people. They even had tents. Apparently, they hadn’t spent a lot of time in this desert.
“What should we do-”
Hadjar was cut off.
The ground shook underfoot. There was a rumble, low and rolling, like thunder, but coming from the ground. The people in the enemy camp screamed and scattered away from the center of their encampment, where the desert was bubbling. The flat surface rose up like a small hill, and a huge arm extended out from it. It was so large that it crushed six tents at once. The arm was followed by the main body. Encased in armor, it was as tall as the mountains to the east. The monstrous golem’s red eyes shone like two stars. Only the upper half of its body appeared above the sands, but its shadow still covered the squad from Underworld City.
Hadjar’s mouth opened slightly. This world kept proving that it could surprise him with its miracles, over and over. The golem opened its mouth, letting out a roar that sounded like an exploding volcano.
It struck, turning half of the enemy squad into a bloody mess in one fell swoop. In a panic, the people scattered everywhere, trying to get away, but they were caught by the living dunes that assumed the form of the same spirits Hadjar and his group had encountered. The spirits cut the people down with sand sabers. Scarlet rivers of blood drenched the golden sand.
Chapter 390
“Five... seven... twelve.” As Karissa counted the sand spirits emerging from the dunes, their faces darkened.
It wasn’t difficult to imagine what this horde of monsters could do to them. Just two sand spirits had been able to nearly end the lives of the seekers from Underworld City.
While the most cowardly of the practitioners were trying to escape and were caught by the sand sabers, some of them dared to fight against the golem. Despite its enormous physical strength and size, it didn’t radiate a strong aura. So, it wasn’t surprising that the rest of the practitioners and cultivators attacked it. However, they’d clearly chosen the wrong target.
Still waist-deep in the sands, the golem waved away the practitioners as if the
y were annoying insects. Their broken bodies, after flying no less than fifty five yards through the air, landed in the midst of the massacre that the spirits were committing. Their facial expressions were masks of horror and disbelief. The cultivators, upon realizing that, despite its lack of aura, the golem was still very powerful, began to use their best protective Techniques.
“Damn,” Glen swore, “how many are there? Five? ”
“Six,” Ramukhan corrected him, pointing to a Heaven Soldier hiding among the shadows.
Two cultivators who’d combined their powers created something like a pyramid above them. They were surely natives of the Sea of Sand. According to legends, once upon a time, rulers of the Pearl of the Sands had built something similar, and they’d been buried there. The top of the pyramid looked sharp and dangerous. Hadjar doubted that even Glen would’ve been able to break through such a defense without suffering any damage. The golem simply covered both the Technique and the cultivators with its palm. Neither a cry nor a groan of pain came from beneath the giant hand. When it slowly lifted its hand with a pleased hum, two scarlet spots quickly disappeared into its crumbling, sandy outline.
The sorcerers and witches who were standing behind the cultivators tried to give them orders, but the panicked fighters were no longer listening to them. They kept randomly launching their best offensive Techniques at the golem, which, grimacing, shielded itself with its forearm.
The giant’s heavy, slow movements created such powerful wind currents that the grains of sand became deadly. The practitioners who didn’t manage to run away and find their death at hands of the spirits were pulverized by the sand.
Shielding itself with its left hand, the giant clenched its right hand into a fist and struck out slowly. It had such a huge range that even the fastest of the cultivators couldn’t escape. Plunging its hand into the sand up to the elbow, the golem cackled triumphantly. It looked pretty creepy.
Behind it, the spirits were fighting the rest of the squad members, easily overwhelming them with their might. They circled the sorcerers. Several of them, sticking their staves into the sand, chanted something. Energy boiled and metal walls appeared around them, created from the air and compressed sand to serve as a frail, temporary shield. The spirits’ blows left deep cracks and cuts on their surface. However, this was enough to buy some time for the other sorcerers.
Seven people wearing hooded robes crossed their staves, their pommels angled toward the giant. They chanted something in a whistling language and almost died from their own spell. The combined power of seven witches and sorcerers was so great that its echo reached even the dune on which Hadjar and the rest lay. Raging wind currents nearly cut off the crest they were on and were stopped by a wave of Hadjar’s hand. He called forth very light, invisible blades that reflected the echo and directed it down, beneath the slope.
The attack of seven magic users working together was amazing. With a wild roar, a tornado of shimmering, white wind erupted into being. Condensing quickly, it took the shape of a huge spear that could probably harm even the giant golem.
Shooting out at a speed that Hadjar wouldn’t have been able to dodge or even block, the tornado drilled directly into the center of the golem. The attack created whirlwinds of terrifying power. This time, Einen had to erect a protective wall of shadows in front of the squad. The vortex was so strong that it created a real sandstorm. It hid the sorcerers, spirits, and golem from their sight. Everyone grabbed the hilts of their weapons. Being prepared never hurt.
“Do you think they killed it?” Glen asked.
The answer wasn’t long in coming. When the energy dissipated, the storm gradually subsided and rained down on the ground. What the squad members saw then was the best demonstration of what a dangerous place they were in.
Before them was the same deserted plain from before. There were no traces of the battle left, except for the abnormally high dune in the center. They saw no golem, no spirits, and, most horrifyingly, not a single body or drop of blood. No camels, no things left behind by the other group, no broken tents. Even the metal walls erected by the powerful spells had disappeared beneath the hungry sands.
“If you want to, you can go check things out,” Tilis grinned. “You can go and maraud, as barbarians are wont to do. Go, steal things from the dead.”
“If I’d killed them myself, I would definitely take your advice into consideration. After all, it’s the custom of the desert.”
“What are you-”
“That’s enough!” Ramukhan stopped them from bickering any further.
For a moment, silence permeated the crest of the dune. Everyone involuntarily imagined themselves in the place of the people who’d been unlucky enough to either trigger a trap or the come across a golem’s lair. None of them deludes themselves into thinking that they would’ve been able to escape. Even Sunshine Sankesh and his army wouldn’t have been able to handle such a monster, especially while it was being supported by a dozen spirits.
“I suggest we go around this place,” Einen said thoughtfully.
“Yes!”
“Of course!”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Agreeing with the islander, the squad quickly moved away from the awful place. In a minute, they were already a good distance away. About half an hour and four thousands yards later, they stropped gripping their weapons tightly, but it was a full five hours later before Karissa closed her book and put the talisman she’d been holding between her fingers back into it.
“I think I know why Serra gave you that stone.” As usual, Einen emerged from the shadows.
“You figured it out too?”
All this time, Hadjar had been thoughtfully toying with the blackened ring on his finger. He had stored his few valuable belongings — little Serra’s gift, the fairy’s tears, and two imperial coins — inside it. He’d left the wallet with the bracelets on his belt. Maybe it was stupid, but to him, it was something far too precious to risk on an artifact he wasn’t sure he could rely on yet. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that, at just his request, things would disappear into nowhere and appear out of nowhere. It seemed far too unnatural.
“I think if Glen hadn’t stepped on the spirit,” Einen grinned slightly, “it wouldn’t have attacked us.”
Hadjar was about to answer him, but, apparently, the desert wasn’t particularly inclined to let him finish speaking.
Ramukhan, who was walking at the head of their column, raised his fist into the air and shouted something. In all honesty, it wasn’t particularly important what he’d said. Everyone was already tense like the strings of a Ron’Jah right now.
Tilis and Karissa, without saying a word, immediately threw their spells ahead of Ramukhan. Karissa, as always, used fire shadows in hooded robes, and Tilis brought down a flurry of water that resembled a hammer striking the swirling, revitalized sand.
A roar mixed with hissing filled the air, and a huge, white snake emerged from the sand right in front of them. Its head was the size of an adult male, and its eye sockets and mouth radiated blue light.
“Cover me,” Einen whispered and ducked into his shadow.
Hadjar cursed and unsheathed his sword.
Chapter 391
Emerging in front of the snake, Einen twisted his staff and a spear shot out of its pommel, accompanied by a screech of steel. Dressed all in white, the islander held his spear-staff behind his back and faced the snake with his side toward it. When it spotted its enemy, the snake completely burst out of the sand.
Its huge, white body writhed and coiled around Einen. The snake’s head, which was emitting a bluish light, leaned down and hissed at the warrior, revealing curved fangs. The creature was more than one hundred and fifty feet long and could easily swallow a horse. Its hissing made the white bandages that comprised Einen’s traditional battle garb flutter, as if it were being buffeted by the wind.
The snake’s lunge was so swift that its white head blurred into a b
arely perceptible line. With its prey still encircled, the snake’s head passed within inches of Einen’s chest as he managed to dodge.
The islander stabbed it swiftly with his spear-staff. Its force was concentrated at a single point, unlike a sword’s, so it caused almost no echo. That was both its strength and weakness. Hadjar’s strikes would hit a wide area. This way, some of the energy dissipated, but at the same time, forced his foes to use a larger, more energy-consuming way to defend themselves.
Einen preferred targeted attacks. Because they were focused on just one point, they contained more power, but defending against them was much easier. That was why the islander always attacked his enemies with a barrage of swift strikes.
“Boulder Storm!” Einen shouted in his native language.
He jumped and hovered in the air. From behind him, a hail of sharp stones rained down on the snake, caressing its white scales like a pouring rain. Sparks fell to the sand, melting it into small puddles of glass. The islander hadn’t actually used stones to attack, but hundreds of sharp thrusts of his spear-staff.
The snake twisted and, unable to break through the barrage, swung its tail, which was the size of a battering ram. It lashed out toward Einen’s back, but the islander was ready. Halting his attack, he swung his staff behind him and dropped into the shadows. The snake’s tail ended up hitting itself, which only made the reptile angrier.
No one from the squad interfered. They were confident in the islander’s ability to deal with a creature at the initial King Stage, and they didn’t think this was a trap.
Einen fought alone, trying to draw out a potential ambush that the rest of the squad would then counter. Hadjar kept his sword unsheathed, watching not only the fight, but his surroundings as well.
The islander emerged from the shadows. He whirled his staff around him, and with each swing he made, the shadows rose and thickened until they formed the upper body of a huge, 9ft ape. It struck its chest with its paws, opened its fang-filled mouth, and with another thrust of the spear-staff, charged the snake. It tried to dodge, but it couldn’t evade the much faster Spear Technique.
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