“Okay.” Sankesh smiled. Continuing to carve the figure, he began to tell the story he’d read in Rahaim’s library. “Once upon a time, there lived a wanderer. He had as many names as he did faces, and no one knew in what form or where he would appear next. Some said he was a short, handsome man, and some said he was a giant and a freak.”
“A freak,” the twins laughed, “just like Olgerd!”
They hated Ragar’s son.
“Tell us why he traveled.” The girl asked breathlessly.
Sankesh smiled again. Women…
“He lost his sweetheart a long time ago. She was a beautiful Princess from one of the ancient cities, and he was but a simple potter. They ran away to live together, but the girl was stolen by Derger-” The children immediately clanged their wrists together. Their miniature bracers rang out. Derger was revered more than any other god in the north.
“That’s right,” the girl said. “Derger is strong. He took the beautiful woman, as is his right. The potter should’ve been humble and found someone more suited to him... an ugly woman.”
Sankesh didn’t argue. He had tried to contradict the child once and remind her that, despite Derger being strong, the potter and the girl had suffered greatly because of what he’d done. Alas, Ragar had been walking by at the time. Sankesh had been whipped badly that day.
“And so, the potter went on his endless journey. He visited many places, looking for an island floating in the sky.”
“Why? Why? Why?” The boys cried.
They were rather rude. Their mother had no time to discipline them, and Aisha would’ve been beaten if she’d ever tried to teach them manners. The lashes that were meant for the nanny always punished Sankesh instead. Fortunately, this happened very rarely.
“Because one of the goddesses left an elixir there for him that, according to legend, could make him as strong as the gods, allowing him to break into the Seventh Heaven and take his beloved away from Derger. He wandered the earth for hundreds of thousands of years, trying to find this island, but he didn’t know that Derger had cast a curse on him. Even if he’d walked right past the flying island, he would’ve never seen it. While the gods can’t interfere with the lives of mortals, after the elixir was created, the Jasper Emperor allowed Derger to blind the immortal potter just to be safe.”
Sankesh finished carving the desert raven and handed it to the girl. She accepted it gratefully and hugged it to her chest. The northerners couldn’t make toys, and people from the surrounding villages sometimes came to the chief and bought Sankesh’s toys, who then received an extra portion of meat as a reward.
“The legends say that the Immortal created hundreds of toys. Just like me. He gave these toys eyes so they could help him look for the island. Alas, our world is so huge that even after hundreds of thousands of years, he couldn’t find the elixir and free his beloved. And the girl couldn’t love Derger, who then turned her into a stone as punishment.”
“How did he become an Immortal?” The absentminded boy asked. “He was just a potter, and Immortals are the strongest people alive.”
“No one knows,” Sankesh shrugged. “Some say that he devoted himself entirely to the path of cultivation, went on the most terrible and amazing adventures, and saw all the wonders of the world. Others say that it’s all just a myth, and that the potter died of grief.” Sankesh lowered his voice to a whisper. “But some, in the darkness of night, when no one is listening, claim in hushed whispers that he made a deal with the Demon Emperor himself.”
“The Demon Emperor,” the children drawled. “Who’s that?”
Sankesh was about to tell them the legend of the demons and their Lord when the door opened and Aisha appeared on the porch. By the Evening Stars, she was a vision. She had a thin waist, long, braided hair, lush breasts and hips, big, beautiful eyes, bronze skin, and high cheekbones. Back in the Sea of Sand, every sheikh and sultan would have tried to woo her.
Even here in the north, where the people had different standards of beauty, free men often gazed at her with desire.
“Come back into the house,” she called in a velvety voice. “Your grandfather is here, and he brought guests with him.”
“Grandfather!”
The children leapt to their feet and ran into the house. Sankesh followed. He paused on the porch and took Aisha’s hand in his while no one was looking at them. She responded with a smile and kissed his cheek. They had been together for two years in secret. The chief would’ve never approved of their love. In the future, when his grandchildren grew up, he was going to give Aisha to one of his neighbors as a precious gift.
Their love had only one chance — Aisha needed to have a baby. But both of them were weak practitioners. Conceiving children was always difficult for those who followed the path of cultivation. Unfortunately, the Evening Stars hadn’t blessed them with a baby.
“Is everything all right, my love?”
Aisha smiled and nodded.
“I have a good feeling about last night.” She stroked her belly tenderly.
“I’m talking about the master’s guests.”
She looked worried as she shook her head.
“I don’t know. The chief of the Snow Giant Village and his son are visiting…”
Sankesh paled. Roslar was the son of the chief of their nearest neighboring village… He’d been here twice before. Both times, Aisha had had to stay near their chief. All the surrounding villages knew that Roslar had an unhealthy obsession with bronze-skinned women.
By the Evening Stars, if Sankesh had known… If only… He would’ve taken her away at once, and they would have plunged into the snowcapped mountains together, going where even the bravest of the northerners didn’t dare venture. That way, at least a few more moments of happiness would’ve awaited them there.
Chapter 420
“HA-A-A-A-A-DJA-A-A-AR!” Sankesh roared again.
Hadjar, clutching a piece of his broken sword, stared at his opponent. The ancient flying island was crumbling all around them. It was plummeting toward the ground. The wind whistled, fluttering his clothes. At first, Hadjar thought Sankesh would attack him, but Sunshine looked like a defeated giant. The energy was oozing out of his emotional wounds. Not new ones, either, but old wounds that had suddenly reopened.
“Hadjar,” Sankesh repeated, much more quietly, “what have you done, you fool... what have you done…”
The sun was setting. Reflected by the drops of the elixir, a stray sunbeam illuminated an old slave brand on the back of Sunshine’s pale skin. Hadjar had no doubt that Sankesh had been a slave before becoming a true cultivator, which meant that… The scar wasn’t on his body, or even his soul, but somewhere deeper. It was so deeply ingrained into his very core that it had survived even Sankesh’s complete transformation.
Sankesh’s halberd fell from his limp hands. He dropped to his knees, forgetting his pride and his delusions about being the strongest, and he crawled over to the shards. He lifted them gently in his arms and rocked them like a child.
“Aisha.” He whispered.
Hadjar watched in horror as the Halberd Spirit hovering behind the strongest warrior he had ever fought cracked. Sankesh was dying. Not from physical wounds, but from wounds to his very soul. Golden energy seeped out of those wounds and flew through the air, disappearing in a shower of sparks.
***
Sankesh and Aisha went into the hall, and from there, into the dining room. The chief’s house was so large that it could comfortably accommodate his entire retinue.
The dining room was often used to host feasts, joyous occasions when the whole village would gather here, but now it was almost empty. Only a few people sat at the long table: the chief, his son and daughter-in-law, with Goonar, the chief, on one side and the guests on the other.
The chief of the Snow Giant Village was a short, skeletal old man, even by the standards of the Sea of Sand. He was leaning on a staff. He had two sons: Dokie and Roslar. Both looked like mountains made flesh — tall and br
oad-shouldered, with thick red beards and long ponytails with charms woven into them.
Sankesh and Aisha arrived at the very end of the conversation.
“Well, Goonar,” the old man said, “You have good grandchildren. My grandchildren will be able to do business with them in the future.”
“Thank you, Daslar, for your kind words.” The chief, despite the apparent goodwill between them, still looked tense. Everyone knew that the Snow Giant Village was three times bigger and five times stronger than Brown Bear Village. “I will gladly go with you to the eastern provinces. Your terms are acceptable, and the loot will likely be plentiful.”
“There will be more of it than you’ve ever seen, honorable chief!” Roslar shouted. “We’ll acquire so much grain and so many prisoners that we’ll feast all through the winter!”
“May the Great Warriors help us,” Dokie added, supporting his brother.
“Let’s seal the deal!”
Everyone at the table rose, struck their goblets together so that the foam from their drinks fell into everyone else’s (an ancient custom that demonstrated that the drinks weren’t poisoned), and then drained them.
Roslar, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his shirt, stared at Aisha. She instinctively backed away, hiding behind Sankesh. That only made Roslar stare at her more lustfully. Goonar noticed.
“Do you like her?” He asked.
“Yes, venerable chief. You know my passion for bronze-skinned beauties.”
Goonar grunted and nodded. He threw a quick glance at Aisha and Sankesh.
“Well, if she has a baby, it’ll be a strong slave.”
“Thank you, venerable chief,” Roslar saluted him with a wide grin.
Sankesh felt like a giant had snatched the earth from under his feet. As if in a dream, he saw Roslar leap across the table and grab the screaming and writhing Aisha in the dim reflection of a broken mirror. Sankesh clenched his fist and swung, but before he could strike, Roslar’s knee hit him in the stomach. Sankesh lost consciousness.
***
Aisha came back a week later. Weakened, looking somehow diminished, she didn’t speak to anyone for another week. During the first day of her absence, the realization of where his beloved had been taken nearly drove Sankesh mad. Only now did he fully understand the helplessness Aisha’s mother had felt. He bit the knuckles on his hands until they bled, he prayed to the gods and demons alike, he even called for his father’s help. He banged his head against the wall, hoping to have the physical pain drown out the emotional one. However, all of it was in vain.
Roslar told the chief that ‘his slave was too spoiled’ and Sankesh was whipped. He was glad when it happened. He was so lost in the agony of the physical torture that he forgot the pain in his heart.
Several months passed. They both tried to forget the horror. Goonar let them live together. However, they didn’t sleep huddled together, as before, and instead, each of them slept on their own side of the ramshackle bed.
Aisha bathed often. Very often. She cried. Then she bathed again, scrubbing her skin until it bled, and she cried some more. Sankesh bit his knuckles whenever she did that. He wanted to hug her, but every time he tried to do so, he saw Roslar caressing her smooth skin, moving his hand lower and lower... It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to Aisha. Sankesh knew that, but he couldn’t help it.
Two months later, at the end of winter, Sankesh gathered up his few possessions, which included a stolen kitchen knife, rolled them up into a makeshift bag, and slipped out into the yard. Cautiously, he dug a worn pair of snowshoes out of a snowdrift and headed for the woods. Even if he still didn’t understand how they worked, he could use them.
“Sankesh.”
He started at the sound of his name, which he hadn’t heard for so long that he’d begun to forget how it sounded outside of his own thoughts. Aisha stood behind him. Barefoot and dressed only in her nightgown, she was standing knee-deep in snow.
“Forgive me,” Sankesh whispered.
He turned around and walked away.
“I’m pregnant!” She exclaimed desperately, but he didn’t stop.
Once, long ago, they’d dreamed about having a baby girl together, and they’d agreed that they would call her Arliksha. Arla was Sankesh’s mother’s name, and Ikshan was Aisha’s mother’s name. Now, however, he couldn’t accept this baby as his own. He left the village and the silent, tearful Aisha behind.
***
Sankesh stopped keeping track of time. Every new morning, he set himself a goal — to survive until the evening, and in the evening, he would set a new goal — to live until the morning. He didn’t know the exact date, but winter had come last month.
Covered in scars and wounds, Sankesh kept trudging through the storm and darkness. He walked toward the Icy Shield, where the ancient cultivators and practitioners had lived once. Worshippers of the Sun.
In reality, he could no longer hope to get any revenge or find salvation, and so he was relying on a myth. He fought against wolves and bears, eating their raw flesh. He avoided the animals that had managed to form their cores and start walking their own, animalistic path of cultivation. His gaze hardened, becoming iron itself.
Rahaim would’ve been proud of him.
***
The following winter, after spending a year surviving alone where even true cultivators would’ve died, Sankesh reached the Icy Shield. The snowy wasteland was a kind of gateway to it. There were fragments of an ancient fortress wall in the middle of it.
Sankesh passed by them. In all that time, he never said a single word or turned back. Aisha’s image was disappearing from his memory, but he didn’t care. He had only one goal — to live until the sunset, and then, to see the dawn again.
***
Two years later, Sankesh, wandering through the mountains, fell into a crevice. He thought he was going to die that day. And he did. Sankesh died and Sunshine was born.
The crevice led into a mountain gorge where an ancient castle stood. Covered in ice and snow, it had lost its former greatness over the years. The only thing that reminded of its former glory was a hundred-foot statue of a warrior towering over the building. The man held a huge sword in his hands, the sight of which nearly killed Sankesh.
The statue seemed to contain a part of the Sword Spirit. It was barely there, but even after millions of years, it was still capable of taking the life of a weak practitioner.
It took Sankesh another six years to find a room in the ancient castle that contained records of the sun worshipper’s Techniques. Or rather, not records, but drawings on the walls. They showed a young warrior practicing different stances. A golden halberd glittered in his hands.
***
Sankesh, who had been seen as a lazy and incompetent practitioner all his life, suddenly felt a deep kinship with the Light Spirit. The secret room where a book with a meditation Technique was stored allowed him to make an improbable leap forward in his cultivation. In just a year, he, a mere practitioner at the Bodily Rivers level, was able to reach the level of a true cultivator. It was an achievement that would’ve been legendary in any era, but Sankesh didn’t care. He only wanted to follow this new path to a new life.
A short, weak practitioner entered the ancient castle, and then a giant Heaven Soldier came out. His muscles bulged like boulders. His veins stood out like steel ropes. His black hair fell to his waist. He was nearly seven feet tall. In his hands, he clutched a makeshift spear. Made of stick, rope, and a suitable stone, it was the only thing that hadn’t betrayed Sankesh over the years.
The mountains shook with an inhuman, almost bestial roar, and Sunshine set off on his return trip.
***
A few people stood at the top of the hill, and below them, two villages had gathered. The Snow Giant Village and Brown Bear Village had merged while Sankesh had been away. Although it would’ve been more accurate to say that the Snow Giant Village had gradually absorbed its ally. The smaller village didn’t like it, but... the weak
could only humbly accept their fate.
The two chiefs stood in front of two people: Roslar, and a rather plain girl of high rank. She was Ragar’s daughter, the daughter of the highest-ranked warrior after the chief.
Ragar wasn’t happy about the marriage. Roslar, aside from his fondness for bronze-skinned women, was a good-looking guy. But this marriage, which the chief of the Snow Giant Village, Daslar, had demanded, looked as if Ragar had betrayed his daughter.
The girl was sad. On her wedding day, when a bride should be happy and pleasantly nervous, his daughter was grieving. Grieving for her beloved who’d fallen in the last campaign. Coincidentally or not, Roslar should have been the one safeguarding his back. He had also been the one who had carried the lover of his present bride back on his shield.
“By right of being the strongest, Roslar, in front of the Great Warriors and Derger, marries young Ragneda! If there are any here who oppose this alliance, who can challenge the right of Roslar, speak now or forever hold your tongue!”
There was a second of silence. The onlookers began to hoot and congratulate the newlyweds when a terrifying roar sounded, filled with such power and strength that the snow shook under the northerners’ feet, and birds quickly flew away.
“I’m against it!”
A giant came up to them. His bronze skin shone in the sunlight. On the right side of his body, bloody wounds from fangs and claws glistened. It looked as if the warrior had only recently won a terrible battle against a huge beast. Even in this weather, wearing almost nothing, he didn’t feel cold. Unarmored, wearing only his bracers and trousers, he held a makeshift spear in his hands.
“Who are you?” Roslar asked. “Who dares challenge me? Give me your name!”
The stranger looked around, making even the bravest warriors tremble.
“I was once called Sankesh, son of Rahaim, the sultan of the Sea of Sand. You know me as Aril, Goonar’s slave. But from this day onward, I’ll be called Sunshine! The man who will burn the whole world down and erect a new one atop its ashes!”
Dragon Heart Page 43
