“Theia,” the spearman hissed, “you’re not the boss of me! Hands off!”
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Proximo.”
As if by magic, two more swordsmen appeared next to Proximo, carrying broadswords at their belts and round shields on their backs. Each of them wore the Geran family’s medallion — the best builders of the Empire. Due to a series of political mishaps, the clan had almost been impoverished, and had been restoring its former greatness bit by bit for several centuries now.
“She isn’t even an heiress,” Proximo snorted.
“And you’re the son of a minor nobleman, hiding behind your friendship with a junior heir of the Eternal Mountain clan,” one of the warriors hissed. “Know your place, cur.”
“Shut up, Kurt.” Proximo’s hand moved toward his spear. The swordsmen unsheathed their blades. “You’re only in this squad because Theia asked for it. How do you like the favor of an inferior family?”
The situation continued to escalate until one of the giants from the Eternal Mountain clan walked by. Holding a monstrous hammer over his shoulder, he was on his way to Galkhad’s tent. He gave Proximo a warning look in passing.
“Damn it!” The spearman spat at Theia’s feet. Yanking his spear out of the ground, he shouldered past the swordsmen and went about his business.
“My lady.” The swordsmen bowed and moved away, leaving Theia alone with the two friends.
Einen gave Hadjar a look that said: ‘We got lucky.’
“Nice sword, Hadjar.”
“Thank you... my lady. It’s my pride and joy.”
“Really now?” Theia arched an eyebrow slightly. “I’ve heard that Hadjar Darkhan of ‘The Holy Sky’ School fights with a strange black blade made from fog. Not some pitiful Heaven level toothpick.”
Hadjar and Einen instantly tensed up. They were ready to both fight and run away at the same time. Hadjar suddenly realized why Theia’s appearance seemed so familiar to him.
“Price-”
“My brother,” she said. “Price Geran is my brother… Was my brother…”
Chapter 703
T hey were sitting around a fire and drinking alcohol. Galkhad, for some reason, had rescheduled their meeting for the following morning. As Hadjar had learned, he was a junior heir of the Eternal Mountain clan, a Spirit Knight who’d mastered the Weapon’s Heart. According to rumors, he was the only junior heir of the seven great clans who’d been able to acquire and fully comprehend Imperial level Techniques. It was no wonder that many held Galkhad Garad in such high esteem.
“Price was a good man.” Since the incident at the ‘Heaven’s Pond’, Hadjar hadn’t drunk alcohol. “And a great warrior. It was an honor to fight against him and... Alongside him.”
Einen was meditating in their tent, so it was only Hadjar and Theia warming themselves up by the fire.
“He was an idiot.” Theia drank her wine. “He fought when he shouldn’t have.”
Hadjar said nothing. If it hadn’t been for Price, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Or rather, Einen wouldn’t be here with him today.
“That idiot…” Theia tossed her bowl into the fire and hugged her knees as she stared into the flames. “You know, after that battle on the Imperial road, he kept talking about this amazing Heaven Soldier from ‘The Holy Sky’ School.”
Hadjar took another bowl and handed it to her. Was this her seventh or eighth one? He’d lost count. All of them had ended up in the fire; some still burned, refusing to turn into coal.
“He kept talking about how he’d finally gotten a chance to fight a worthy opponent. He told me about a strange sword and the Technique that had nearly killed him. He told me that Hadjar Darkhan was the man he wanted to fight in a fair duel.”
Hadjar drank some more. He’d almost managed to repress his memories of Price. But now they’d resurfaced to hurt him once again. Rare were the people whom he trusted enough to fight side by side with. Price, even though he’d been a foe, even though he hadn’t known him for long, had been one such person.
“To Price Geran.” He raised his bowl above his head. “To a man of honor.”
“To my brother.” Theia raised her own bowl. “To a naive idiot.”
The silence that they were suddenly enveloped in was occasionally interrupted by the song of the cicadas and the wind. The moon and stars shone brightly, glimmering like a noblewoman’s gown studded with diamonds. Nights like these reminded Hadjar of the Sea of Sand. And Arkemeya, too. Why had he remembered her? Half monster, half human… The poor thing.
“What’s her name?” Theia asked suddenly.
“Whose name?” Hadjar asked in confusion.
“The one you’re thinking of.”
He didn’t answer.
Theia drained another bowl, tossed it into the fire, then grabbed the bottle and took a few hefty gulps from it.
“Men,” she breathed out, wiping her lips. “Put you near a fire, under a night sky, with a bottle of booze in your hand… and you turn into helpless romantics.”
“Do we now?”
“Poor sods, drooling over pretty girls you’ll never have.”
“The one I was thinking about tried to yank my heart out of my chest rather than win it over.”
Theia chuckled. She cradled her head in her hands and looked at Hadjar. Her brown eyes looked almost black in the darkness of the night, just like-
He shook his head. Theia smiled knowingly.
“You stupid warrior, you really are thinking about a girl,” she repeated with a drunken chuckle.
“She wanted to kill me. She’ll probably try again.”
“What kind of cultivator wants a meek, gentle spouse? What kind of cultivator just needs to have their dinner cooked, feet washed, and bed warmed?” Theia started crying. “No, cultivators need something different. We need someone who’ll hand us arrows on the battlefield. Someone who’ll face a dragon alongside you. Someone whom you’ll be able to fight and cultivate with for centuries to come.”
Hadjar knew exactly what she was talking about. Once, he’d considered Anise to be someone he could do so with, but now…
“I can assure you, Theia, that she’s not someone I think of in such a way.”
“Really?” Something mischievous flashed in the girl’s eyes. “Then kiss me.”
Hadjar tilted his head slightly to one side.
“Or is the mighty Hadjar Darkhan afraid of-”
The sharp taste of alcohol instantly went to his head. Theia leaned forward, like a cat begging to be petted. He caressed her soft, brown hair and wound it around his fist. Theia threw her head back and moaned as Hadjar’s lips moved down her chin and neck.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered in a husky voice.
Hadjar obeyed. His left hand slid under her strange armor. He found the ribbon, loosened it with a practiced move of his fingers, and then yanked it off, revealing her perky, rosy breasts. Theia moaned harder. He threw her to the ground right next to the fire. He took her right there, in the middle of the camp, illuminated by the dancing flames and beneath the starry sky. One… Two… Three times.
“Don’t stop... More... Harder…!” Sighs exploded from Theia’s lips. Dragging her nails down his back, she kept pleading for more.
Pausing only to drink, they returned to each other with renewed lust each time. Theia wasn’t as skilled as the priestesses of love in a brothel Hadjar had once visited had been. But she was still a cultivator, a Spirit Knight with endurance that no whore could match.
He took her over and over again.
It was like a fight. Leaving bloody scratches on each other’s bodies, they rolled across the dry ground of the Wastelands. The fire had long since died out, the waning moon was descending somewhere to the west, but they continued their passionate struggle. As if both of them were trying to escape from something or someone…
It wasn’t until the next morning, when footsteps could be heard coming from nearby, that Hadjar finally m
oved away from a panting Theia. They were both dripping with sweat and blood, skin scratched until it was red and bitten until it became bluish-purple. What had just happened wasn’t an expression of love between two people, but sheer, animal lust.
“Leave me,” Theia breathed out.
Wrapping herself in her cloak, she added wood to the fire, causing it to flare up. Hadjar put his old, worn clothes back on and went over to his and Einen’s tent.
The emptiness in his soul didn’t disappear. On the contrary, it grew larger. He realized that he couldn’t remember what Anise’s hair smelled like. If he’d even known that to begin with…
Chapter 704
S eated on a folding chair at the table where a rough map of the whole Wastelands was spread out, Hadjar reminisced about his days in the Moon army.
“What do you think, Buremir?”
Galkhad handed the pointer to one of the archers, who, as far as Hadjar had understood it, was a member of a noble family, just like Proximo. To the commoners of the Empire, the nobles were something akin to celestials.
“A group of forty cultivators has come together in the east, twenty miles from here...” Buremir moved some figures around on the map.
It really looked like a war council back in the Moon army had, but on a smaller scale. It was still hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that everyone present could destroy a quarter of the Moon army on their own.
“Their levels?”
Galkhad, sitting on a massive chair that had been carved into the shape of a pair of intertwined deer horns, propped his chin up on his fist. He looked menacing, but still charismatic enough to earn the loyalty of Spirit Knights and even the Gerans, who were also aristocrats, albeit of a lower rank.
Hadjar had initially assumed that he was dealing with an allied force, but he’d recently realized that there was a strict hierarchy in the squad. At the top was the Eternal Mountain clan, represented by Galkhad and his brothers. Honestly, that made their task easier to some extent.
“Seven Knights, the rest are Soldiers. None of them have mastery over the Weapon’s Heart. They’re an easy target, Galkhad. We’ll deal with them in half an hour.”
“Great.” Galkhad nodded. “And if we turn a little bit to the north?”
Taking the pointer from the archer, he began to move the figure that represented their squad along the mouth of what had once been a river.
“We could go around to the northeast and hit them before they suspect a thing.”
“But if we come up along the river, we’ll be able to-”
“Cut to the chase!” Galkhad prompted Buremir impatiently.
“That’s uncharted territory. No one knows what other monsters besides the lights might’ve woken up.”
As far as Hadjar could tell, Buremir called the Spirit-golems they’d fought against ‘lights’. Judging by everything he’d seen so far, he had no doubt that these creatures were just as powerful as Galkhad’s squad. The Dinos siblings and Dora were worth ten of the ‘Quick Dream’ School’s inner circle disciples.
Galkhad nodded. “So, in order to move farther east, we need to get rid of these idiots.”
Hadjar suddenly realized that after the Wastelands had been opened to all the disciples of the Empire, the situation in the region had changed greatly. Loners could still get by unnoticed, but they could do little on their own. Even strong cultivators like the Dinos siblings and Dora. On their own, none of them would be able to survive for long. The Wastelands were no longer the same as they’d been a couple of months ago. The map and the key had drastically changed the region.
Being part of a large squad had its pros and cons. The main downside was the lack of subtlety. If they approached the enemy group just like Buremir had suggested, it would definitely come back to bite them in the ass.
“A battle may attract other squads,” Theia said.
“It’s fine, we can handle it,” Galkhad retorted dismissively.
“You giants from the Eternal Mountain clan may have recovered, but the rest of us need more time.”
Several of the other squad members backed her up on this. The Eternal Mountain clan’s warriors were famous for the incredible amount of energy in their Cores, and the fact that they could easily restore it. Any army was happy to have them — one of their warriors was worth ten others in a war.
“You’ve had plenty of time to recover, Theia,” Proximo said. “You should’ve spent the night meditating, not pleasuring a commoner.”
Theia slammed her hand down on the table and rose to her feet. The Geran warriors rose behind her.
“One more word, you son of a measly baron, and I’ll make sure to water your lands with the blood of your kin.”
Proximo grabbed his spear.
“You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Just because you belong to a poor clan? I’ve heard about how your Head restored the clan’s treasury. How many husbands has she had? Eight? Ten? All of them were rich nobles and-”
“Shut your mouth, Proximo!” Galkhad roared, eyes blazing with rage. “I don’t like it when an upstart nobleman disrespects an old clan in my presence!”
Proximo, realizing that he’d gone too far, bowed to the giant and then to Theia. While bowing to the latter, he didn’t bother to avert his gaze. Instead, he stared sternly into her eyes — he was challenging her.
“My apologies to House Geran.”
Everyone present knew that accepting such an apology was even worse than not receiving it in the first place. If Proximo had disrespected the Dinos or Marnil clan like that, he would’ve been dead in an instant, followed by all of his relatives, including even their most distant cousins. And their lands would’ve been covered with a thick layer of ash, under which they’d have buried the mauled corpses of his family. House Geran was weak. They held the position of the seventh greatest clan only because it was beneficial to the Emperor.
“Your apology is accepted, Proximo,” Theia hissed through clenched teeth.
Leaving deep furrows in the surface of the table, she sat back down in her chair. Her warriors followed her example.
“I thought so,” Proximo whispered and sat back down as well.
“So, if there are no other suggestions, we’ll go east.”
“But-”
Galkhad’s interrupted Theia with a wave of his hand.
“Proximo has allowed himself to go too far, and I apologize on his behalf, Theia. But he’s right. You should’ve meditated. So, unless someone has a reasonable argument against it, we’ll fight this group. Let me also remind you that we have the key. And if these two commoners could track us,” Galkhad nodded at Hadjar and Einen, “others can as well.”
Hadjar gave Einen the signal. The islander leaned close to his ear and began to whisper… swear words in his native language. Furrowing his brows and tightening his lips as if in deep thought, Hadjar began to nod.
“Yes... Of course... I remember, obviously... A clever code, my friend... Yes... Really? Interesting…”
Galkhad rolled his eyes.
“What are you two whispering about?” He growled irritably.
“Pardon.” Hadjar smiled apologetically. He picked up one of the pointers and began to move the squad’s figure with it. “If we follow the river... According to the map, there’s an underground channel that the ancients used as a sewer.”
“And why should we care about where the ancients dumped their shit?”
“Well, the shit, if it’s even still there, has been petrified for a long time. But the channel will allow us to sneak six miles northeast.”
“Which will take us from the entrance to the east side,” Buremir said, “and that’s where the map is rumored to be located.”
Hadjar had no idea how the rumors of the map’s location had even reached the Wastelands, but he figured that the organizers themselves had probably spread them.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Hadjar shrugged. “But wherever the map is, why should we bother looking for it i
f-”
“-if we can have them bring it to us.” Galkhad nodded. “No one can enter the tomb without it. So, why not wait for it at the entrance?”
“Exactly.” Hadjar nodded.
Galkhad pretended to consider this suggestion. However, it was obvious that he’d already made up his mind.
What the giant didn’t know was that Hadjar had ‘forgotten’ to mention that the ancient sewer system would lead them directly to the center of a city from the Hundred Kingdoms era that hadn’t been marked on any map of the Wastelands. It had been hidden from everyone for hundreds of centuries.
“Oh, by the Great Turtle,” Einen sighed, his face buried in his hands, “we’re all going to die.”
Chapter 705
“R emind me again why we have to go first? We have the map, but we don’t have-”
“Shut up, peasant! Shut up and keep walking!”
“That’s a reasonable argument. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Hadjar turned away from the mounted Galkhad. He and Einen were walking along the bed of the old river. Putting one foot in front of the other, he descended carefully, paying no heed to the scorching sun or his worn clothes.
Once upon a time, this river had been a sight to behold. It had been hundreds of feet deep, and wide enough for several merchant fleets, accompanied by the military, to move along it. There was about fifteen miles of nothingness between the banks now. Instead of being full of life, they were now sandy slopes just like the rest of the Wastelands. Sparse, withered grass was all that remained after the Last War, the tragedy that had robbed this area of not only millions of lives, but of nature itself.
“Stop looking around!” Proximo, riding behind Hadjar, jabbed him in the back with his spear. “Move faster!”
“I’ll kill him,” Hadjar hissed in the language of the Islands.
“What did you just say, you stinking peasant?”
Hadjar cursed and looked down at his feet. Like Einen, he wore his best cloth-wrapped shoes. They were his favorite and most comfortable pair. Unlike the nobles, they didn’t have to change their shoes often. This kind of footwear was much more practical than their fashionable cavalry boots. He couldn’t imagine anyone climbing the mountains of Greven’Dor in them. Both the Dinos siblings and Dora had had to put on special boots with crampons in order to climb the treacherous slopes.
Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8 Page 28
