Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

  “Wind!” Hadjar said.

  He felt kinship with the wind again. As if gliding across the area, he blurred into a lunge. Behind him, afterimages froze in various poses, as if not one Hadjar, but ten of them, had stretched out in a line, rushing to their doom.

  Once he came close to Sankesh’s titanic attack, Hadjar... did nothing. He simply merged with the swirling force of the sun disk and, in the same graceful manner, skirted the Technique. Neither the disk nor the two whirlwinds of fire could touch so much as a hair on his head.

  A moment later, the disk cut down a stone pillar. Despite being sixteen feet thick, it couldn’t resist the Spirit Knight’s attack. The destroyed stones tumbled into the abyss, and Sankesh couldn’t understand what had just burned his chest. When he looked down, he saw a wide cut running from his right shoulder to his stomach. Deep and bleeding heavily, it had nearly exposed the white ribs beneath. Sankesh turned. Behind him, a few yards away, stood Hadjar. Dark blood ran down his thigh and side, and he pointed to his chest, at the terrible V-shaped scar that had been left behind when he’d healed from Sankesh’s first attack.

  “We’re almost even,” Hadjar said with a beastly grin. “Wind!”

  Leaving behind a dozen afterimages, Hadjar charged once more into the melee.

  Chapter 416

  Sankesh struck out with one crushing blow after another. However, each time, the waves of golden light hit only Hadjar’s afterimages. He seemed to be nowhere and everywhere at once. He moved so fast that Sankesh couldn’t even see him properly. Several black blades attacked him, but only one of the five was real. The others, after getting close enough to his body, scattered into wisps of dark mist.

  Many cuts appeared on Sankesh’s torso, legs, and arms. Unlike the first one, when Hadjar had managed to take his opponent by surprise, these cuts looked like superficial scratches. Every time his sword touched Sankesh’s skin and muscles, Hadjar felt as if he were attacking a wall of iron instead of flesh. Sankesh’s Technique for Strengthening the Body was far superior to the one that Hadjar had. Even so, despite feeling like a hungry puppy trying to tear a grown wolf apart, the willpower in his blue, inhuman eyes didn’t fade or dull. Even if there was an impregnable fortress in front of Hadjar, he would never give up on trying to capture it!

  “Nonentity!” Sankesh roared as another sword slash seared a line of pain across his back.

  He spun his halberd again, but didn’t send any sun disks flying. His pride would never allow him to admit this, but he’d wasted more than half his energy during their battle.

  And his foe was merely a Heaven Soldier at the initial stage!

  This battle had to end. In addition, Hadjar needed to learn that he could never truly injure Sankesh, who was far stronger than him!

  Sensing his enemy’s approach and seeing his afterimages, Sankesh suddenly plunged his halberd into the stone floor. The energy, guided by his will and weapon, hit the ground and exploded into a flaming, golden ball.

  Hadjar, who hadn’t expected this, didn’t have time to change the direction of his attack. His quick, but insignificant compared to his opponent’s, slash struck the wall of golden fire. For a moment, the darkness and the light struggled, but it was impossible to stand against or cut through such powerful light.

  Hadjar was lifted off the ground. The wave of fire sent him hurtling a dozen yards through the air and then he slammed into a column. It cracked and began to crumble. Hadjar, who’d climbed out of the hole he’d made in the stone, collapsed on the floor. Behind him, another ancient pillar flew into the abyss, followed by a blue crystal.

  Shaking his head and trying to recover his wits, Hadjar caught a glimpse of the glowing energy bush in the center of the altar start to dim. With great difficulty, Hadjar stood up. Sankesh didn’t try to attack him again. He stood there with his halberd stuck in the stone. His whole body was covered in his own and his foe’s blood. There was a terrible cut across his chest.

  Hadjar looked even worse. He could barely breathe, and each breath produced a flash of pain. His broken ribs were cutting into his lungs. His Technique for Strengthening the Body had drained a huge amount of his energy, but it still hadn’t managed to deal with the wounds that the Spirit Knight had inflicted on him.

  “I hate to admit it, Hadjar,” Sankesh’s voice was calm despite his heavy breathing, “but Serra wasn’t wrong when she called you Dragon. I’ve fought many opponents, but you’ve outshone them all. As just a lowly Heaven Soldier, you’re able to withstand a battle against me while I’m not holding back my power. I respect you for that.”

  Sankesh raised his fist, covered it with his hand, and bowed slightly. Hadjar wasn’t surprised to see that the man knew the greeting of the Land of the Immortals.

  According to Ramukhan, Sankesh had gone to the northerners as a completely inept practitioner, and had returned as one of the most powerful warriors that the Sea of Sand had ever seen. It was easy to guess that this was due to an unusually good stroke of luck, which the young slave had been able to turn to his advantage. Maybe he’d found the Technique of some Immortal. Maybe he’d met the Shadow of an Immortal, which had then given him its Legacy or the rank of ‘honorary disciple’. Or maybe... there were a hundred other reasons Hadjar could think of. None of this, however, detracted from the fact that Hadjar…

  “I respect you as well.” He gave the same greeting. “You followed a path that would’ve broken many warriors. Your power is your own, not borrowed.”

  Hadjar respected Sunshine Sankesh for what he had achieved, especially because he’d done it all with his own two hands. He hadn’t been born into a wealthy clan or sect. He hadn’t been a disciple of a prestigious school and had no innate talent. It was only through sheer willpower that he’d gnawed his way through all the obstacles and challenges that fate had thrown at him. Just like Hadjar… But also the complete opposite of Hadjar …

  Just like the light and darkness, they could see themselves in each other, but they also saw how different they were.

  “Not long ago, I wanted to kill you, Hadjar Darkhan. Maybe because I wanted to prove to myself that I’m the strongest, but now... the world I want to build isn’t just for the strongest. Only one person can be the strongest. My world is for the strong. You’re strong. You’ve earned the right to be part of my new world.”

  Hadjar didn’t follow the logic.

  “I already told you once, Sunshine,” Hadjar said, “and I’ll say it again: I won’t be part of any new world because it won’t exist.”

  Sankesh’s eyes flashed with anger and fury, but with an effort of will, he managed to contain his rage. Somewhat.

  “Stop playing the hero, Darkhan!” Sunshine roared. “Why are you still fighting against me? Why are you planning to throw your life away? Look at your sword and cloak, they’re almost gone. Don’t try to deceive me, I already know that this incomprehensible power that allows you to fight at the level of a peak Heaven Soldier will disappear with them.”

  Sankesh was right. The cloak on Hadjar’s shoulders had gone down to his ankles at the beginning of their battle, but now it barely covered his shoulder blades. The black sword in his hands was so translucent that it was hard to tell if Hadjar was holding a weapon or if it was just fog.

  The Call would last for another attack or two, but no more. This clearly wouldn’t be enough to defeat Sankesh. Still, no matter how strong Hadjar was, he would still probably find himself in over his head. It was part of who he was.

  Maybe if their battle could be postponed for six months or a year, Hadjar would manage to progress further down the path of cultivation and comprehend more of the mysteries of the Sword Spirit, but... This world didn’t allow such wishful thinking.

  “Don’t do it, Sankesh.” Hadjar looked at the last three crystals out of the corner of his eye as he spoke to the man. They circled the altar, allowing the blue energy to flow down somewhere beneath the base of the island. “Do you think the gods would really allow for anything that can h
elp mortals reach the same level as them to exist?”

  Hadjar had expected a lot of different reactions, but not this one. Sankesh’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed loudly.

  “Gods?” Sankesh asked. “Don’t insult me, Dragon. I don’t believe in gods or demons…”

  Then why do all of this, Hadjar thought, but kept silent.

  He was taking aim.

  “I only believe in this.” Sankesh struck his chest. “And in this.” He drew his halberd from the stone. “I only believe in power. In my own power! This elixir will make me stronger!”

  That was the truth. Sankesh had never stooped to using artifacts or armor. He had used only his own body and weapon. And that was all he needed to create a new world.

  “I think we’ve reached an impasse,” Hadjar said.

  “Then prepare to meet your forefathers!” The golden energy surged around Sankesh like a storm.

  “We should both prepare.”

  Hadjar made his move. His two strikes merged into one. The black cloak disappeared from his shoulders and the blade vanished from his hands, but they were no longer needed. The first black crescent struck the nearest column. It cut it to pieces and dropped the penultimate crystal into the abyss. His second attack flew toward the far pillar — the last one keeping the fragment of the ancient civilization from complete destruction. As soon as the last crystal fell, Sankesh felt the earth shake. He saw the buildings crumbling, and in the distance, he noticed the walls of the ancient library collapsing.

  “Stop!” He roared.

  Sunshine held out his hand. With an effort of will, he pulled the hidden Serra toward him. The girl screamed, but the invisible power was already drawing her inexorably into Sankesh’s hands.

  “Stop or I’ll kill her!”

  The second crescent dissipated in the air, turning into black fog without reaching the crystal. They both froze.

  “I thought so,” Sankesh said wryly. “You’re still too weak. And now she’ll die anyway-”

  “And you’re too stupid,” Hadjar interrupted him, “if you truly believe that the Mad General’s plan is so simple.”

  Sankesh had been too preoccupied with his goal, which was so close, to realize that Hadjar had come here to rescue Serra. That meant he wouldn’t have destroyed the island anyway, because he and Serra would surely have died in the crash that followed, but Sankesh could’ve survived.

  Which meant that…

  “No!” Sunshine flung Serra away, but it was too late.

  Hadjar threw his right arm out from behind his back. The tip of the broken Mountain Wind flashed. With incredible speed, it flew through the air. Just before it collided with the protective shell of the elixir, Hadjar imagined he saw the smile of the last sorceress. A hole appeared in the shell around the crystal swirling inside the tree, and the sword went right through it.

  “NO!” Sankesh roared.

  At the same time, using the last vestiges of his power, Hadjar swung the second fragment of Mountain Wind. The attack was weak, but it was enough to cut off the very top of the column and bring down the last of the crystals. The blue bush in the center of the altar went out, the blue veins running through everything disappeared, the earth cracked, and the giant island fell from the sky.

  Hadjar shielded the little girl. Powerless, he held his broken blade in front of him and watched the energy swirl around the frantic Sankesh. The man looked even more powerful than he had at the beginning of their battle.

  The huge tree was falling. It was drying up and turning into gray dust. Shards of the crystal flew everywhere. Drops of liquid gold still glistened on them. Those were the remains of the ancient potion that nobody could get now.

  “What do we do now?” Serra asked.

  “HA-A-A-A-A-DJA-A-A-AR!”

  “I didn’t think that far ahead,” Hadjar said, his face pale.

  Chapter 417

  Sankesh stared at the shards of the crystal scattered across the square. The yellow drops of the elixir glistened on their sharp edges, illuminated by the setting sun. Its purity and radiance were undeniable proof of its quality. There might not have been a single ancient cultivator for many millions of miles around who would’ve been capable of making such a thing.

  Perhaps a similar elixir could be found, but it would probably only be available in the mythical Land of the Immortals, of which Sankesh had learned hundreds of years ago, but it would be weaker and of a lower quality.

  The reflected sunbeams made Sankesh reflect on his past for a moment. He’d both found unattainable heights of happiness and fallen into an abyss of despair in the past. Sunshine had been born from all those experiences, vowing to reshape the world in his vision.

  ***

  Wrapped in a tattered blanket, young Sankesh, now seventeen years old, looked through the bars of his cage at the snowy forest. For a year, he’d been sold and resold by various slave traders. During that time, he had crossed the Sea of Sand, skirted the eastern provinces of the Empire, and reached the northern region.

  Thanks to Rahaim’s books (a man he no longer considered his father), Sankesh had read about snow and even seen pictures of the white substance falling from the sky, but this was his first time seeing it up close.

  “Stop making all that noise!” The bars of his cage were struck with the handle of an axe.

  Sankesh recoiled and involuntarily reached for the slave collar on his neck. Over the past year, he had learned the language of the northerners. The Evening Stars hadn’t given him a talent for the path of cultivation, but he had a good memory and was very intelligent.

  “Water,” a voice croaked from behind him.

  Sankesh was not alone in the long cage. There were a dozen of them in here. Most of the prisoners were from the Sea of Sand. Their skin had turned from a dark bronze to a pale pink in the year they’d spent travelling. There were also several barbarians among them. Once they’d reached the snowy lands, they’d felt much better and had been able to find common ground with the guards of the caravan.

  “Here, take it!” Laughing, one of the golden-haired giants dressed in fur and iron armor made a snowball and threw it into the cage.

  The woman, who was Sankesh’s compatriot, reached out with trembling hands and grabbed it, glaring at the others. The cage was so crowded that they kept warm mostly thanks to each other, and not the torn rags that they’d been given a month ago.

  The desert dwellers were mostly thirsty and desperate for water. The barbarians, when they thought no one was looking, collected snow from the bars, melted it in their hands, and drank. Or even just put it in their mouths right away. Sankesh, after learning their trick by spying on them, now did the same.

  The woman was weak, but no one thought about robbing her. First of all, the guards would beat them for fighting — damaged ‘goods’ were harder to sell. And secondly, everyone knew that a desperate mother was more dangerous than any predator.

  The woman, after breathing on the lump of snow for a bit to melt it, held it to her daughter’s lips. A young girl of thirteen. Maybe a little more. Wrapped in the same rags as everyone else, she clung to her mother’s chest, who kept trying to cover her with her rags as well.

  The guards didn’t let them freeze, but it was still rather cold in the cage. The leader of the caravan, the main scoundrel, assured them that the sooner they got used to the cold, the more they would cost. And the higher the price paid, the better the northerners treated their slaves.

  The snowball melted, but the girl still asked for more. Her mother almost wept with helpless frustration.

  “Take this,” Sankesh held out a small snowball imperceptibly.

  The woman recoiled at first, as if she’d seen a dangerous snake, but then, her hands still trembling, she accepted it gratefully.

  “Where did you get this?” She asked in the language of the Sands.

  Sankesh turned around, making sure no one was listening to them, and then whispered:

  “When snow fal
ls from the sky, it settles on the bars. Collect and crumple it up in your hands. It turns into…” It took Sankesh a moment to remember the right word. “…ice. Then put it on your tongue. It’ll be very cold. It’s bad for her teeth, and even a bit painful… But she won’t suffer from thirst anymore.”

  The woman, ragged and sore, blinked a couple of times. Her lash-less eyes looked like ghastly gray hollows. She and her daughter had joined, or rather, been bought from a slave fair in the Imperial city bordering the North. Over the past three months they’d spent in the snowy forests and wastelands, they hadn’t exchanged even a couple of words with their compatriots.

  None of those present trusted their fellow slaves much. Moreover, while the guards tried to keep the ‘goods’ intact, some of them still died sometimes. The guards weren’t interested in their possessions, so they were taken either by the nearest or the strongest. It was an unspoken rule — whoever took someone else’s things first was their new owner.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the woman began to bow to him feverishly. Slaves were taught how to bow by the Empire.

  Sankesh grabbed the woman by her shoulders. “Stop that or we’ll get noticed.”

  He looked around warily. Fortunately, they were at the very end of the cage. The barbarians and the rest of the desert dwellers were ignoring them. They were breathing hard on their hands, which were red from the cold. The guards, like Sankesh, were looking at the forest. Huge trees blocked their view, and the road wound between snow-covered hills. According to the stories he’d heard, there were monsters in these forests that were even worse than those that roamed the vast expanses of the Sea of Sand. Sankesh didn’t want to encounter any of them even without a slave collar around his throat…