Hadjar generously gave out Honor points (which allowed them to take scrolls from the library) to everyone who participated in the construction. This only further aggravated the situation with the Librarian. After all, previously, Hadjar hadn’t been able to give any points to the soldiers without the approval of the General staff.
Now the army had its own library—which had been obtained after the battle with the sect. Hadjar could let people use it at his own discretion, and he did so on a large scale, trying to raise the average level of his fighters before the battle with the main forces of ‘The Black Gates’ sect was upon them.
“Hadjar,” a cold but soft voice said.
The bare-chested General turned around to see the black-haired beauty standing near his tent. Very few men could pass by her and not turn their heads or stumble. Hadjar didn’t care about it at all—they could look if they wanted.
“Nehen,” Hadjar greeted the witch.
She was like a cat. She came when she pleased and left when she wanted. She sometimes spent a whole day in the library or arguing with Serra. The two witches hadn’t found a common language, and, unlike ‘their’ men, they didn’t like each other. Their dislike had even reached the point where if one of them came into view, the other would immediately walk away.
“We must talk.” Nehen invited the General into his own tent.
Hadjar just smiled at her behavior, recalling their conversation from two months ago.
***
The General was brought into his tent and laid out on the bed. The healer of the ‘Bear squad” rushed in to assist him. After pushing aside the crowd that had surrounded the General’s bed, he’d poured odorous and vile potions down Hadjar’s throat. Hadjar’s body felt as though he had been struck by lightning. He arched his back and growled, but soon came to his senses. The trembling subsided, and steam stopped pouring out of his mouth.
Soon, everyone left, leaving Hadjar alone with Nehen. Before leaving, Nero had managed to wink approvingly and Serra had given the witch a haughty look. It could be called ‘dislike at first sight’.
From under the skins, the white kitten, Azrea, crept out. Leaping onto Hadjar’s chest, she hissed angrily at Nehen.
“This is your territory,” the witch nodded. She didn’t even try to pet Azrea. “I won’t make a claim.”
The kitten hissed once more, then snorted before washing her face and falling asleep. But Hadjar knew that Azrea wasn’t actually sleeping, contrary to her usual behavior.
“You came just in time,” Nehen whispered, clasping his calloused hands. “The man was becoming impatient.”
Hadjar looked into her black eyes. The gods alone knew how much he wanted to drown in them. How fiercely he wished to be deceived by them. But he couldn’t afford it.
“Why did you let him do it?”
Nehen shuddered and wanted to move her hand away, but now Hadjar was holding it firmly between his own.
“Let him do what?”
The General frowned.
“Don’t play your games with me, Witch from the Islands.”
“So now I’m just a witch. If that’s the case, then…”
Hadjar squeezed her hand more tightly. Any other woman would’ve screamed in pain or gotten angry at Hadjar, but Nehen was different.
She understood who she was talking to.
Perhaps she understood better than anyone. She’d seen the dragon inside his blue eyes and the General’s Medallion on his chest. Something he’d won using nothing but his sheer willpower and skills with the blade.
“Your wolves could’ve easily torn him to pieces,” Hadjar croaked.
Every word was hard for him to get out, but he had to finish the conversation. Otherwise, the only thing he could do was give the order to execute Nehen. At that moment, he trusted her as much as the average sect spy mixed in with his army.
“Maybe,” Nehen agreed, “maybe not.”
“But you didn’t even try. You didn’t give the order.”
“I don’t...” The witch faltered. The dragon within the General’s blue eyes was beginning to wake up. “Despite all the songs about you, General, you truly know nothing about the ways of women.”
He loosened his grip, and, ignoring Azrea’s warning hiss, she moved a little closer and leaned over him. By the gods and demons, he relished her kiss, though he didn’t want to.
“You couldn’t come down to be with me,” she said, undressing and climbing under the skins. “And I couldn’t come up to be with you. It isn’t our way, General. You and me, we’re on different paths in life.”
She put her head on his chest and began to sort out the long strands of hair with her fingers. She licked them, making Azrea even more upset.
“I allowed him to take me hostage so he would lead me to you.” She closed her eyes, listening to the rhythmic beating of Hadjar’s inhuman heart. “Maybe that’s why you weren’t so eager to kill him that night. Because you knew he would then try to take me hostage and bring me to you. So, which one of us truly let the assassin put a knife to my throat? Me... or you?”
She closed her eyes and soon fell asleep.
Hadjar lay still for a long time that night and thought about her words.
Maybe Nehen was right. Maybe he really was the one who’d let the assassin take her hostage.
***
“This isn’t a good time to talk, Nehen,” Hadjar said to the witch.
He shook out his sore hands.
“They’re coming.”
Hadjar immediately froze. A moment later, he straightened up and assumed a stance more befitting a General.
“The beasts?” he asked.
“Yes.” Nehen nodded. For the first time, the witch from the islands looked not just pale, but pale with terror. “I’ve heard the birds singing about it and the whole forest is buzzing with the news. There are... untold thousands of them, Hadjar. A lot more than we thought possible.”
Well, it had been foolish to expect the gods to suddenly be generous to him, even for a day.
“Sound the horns!” Hadjar shouted as he turned toward the nearest warriors. “Summon all the commanders and Serra immediately! Go! The beasts are coming!”
Chapter 154
Hadjar put on his clothes, skins, and the white cloak made from the giant Alpha ape’s fur. The ice fortress had specifically been built on the other side of the dome to create a second line of defense.
All of the General’s orders were carried out unquestioningly and promptly. By the time Hadjar reached the fortress, a signalman had already been up to the mountain ridge. Climbing the steps hollowed out in the rock, he went up to the tower in which the horn had been mounted. It wasn’t just a ‘pipe’ made from an animal horn, but a real, huge horn. Two adult men could easily fit inside it, and its length exceeded ten feet.
Hadjar covered his ears with his hands and found that he was right. The sound that came from the horn’s depths was more like a wounded god’s cry—low, loud, and lingering. Many of the soldiers felt like the very blocks of the ice fortress’ wall were trembling from the force of it.
The General ran up the wooden stairs and walked out onto the parapet. Below him, the rocky abyss stretched out as far as the eye could see. The rocks had been watered for weeks and were now covered in a smooth, icy crust. Without the special equipment required, even a practitioner on the verge of becoming a true cultivator wouldn’t be able to climb up that way.
“By the demons, what’s going on, Hadj?” Nero roared, slightly deafened by the ongoing alarm.
“The beasts are coming.”
“What?”
Hadjar spread his fingers out and punched his palm, then stretched out two fingers and made several sharp movements.
In the hunting language, this meant: Beasts. Danger.
Nero nodded, removed his gloves, and cleared his ears. He felt his jaw, grimaced slightly, and nodded again.
“How much time do we have?” He spoke a little louder than was necessary, but
he couldn’t hear the answers.
However, Hadjar didn’t know how to reply to that. In his haste, he’d forgotten to check the most important thing—how much time did they have?
“Twelve hours,” a voice said behind him.
The witch from the islands came up to join them on the parapet. She looked the same as when they’d first met—a long, light dress that an ordinary girl would freeze in, even if she wore it during the spring, a thin cloak, and her loose hair almost falling to her ankles. Her skin was so white that it blended with the surrounding snow.
“Twelve hours?” Nero said, looking into the distance. Suddenly, he struck the wall hard. “Damn! Damn the gods! Damn these animals and this damned sect!”
He swore a few more times, then took a deep breath and pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“Feel better?” Hadjar asked.
“A little,” he admitted to his friend.
The three of them watched the villagers hurrying toward the pavilion, where they would be protected by the huge ice walls. In recent months, many of them had already moved up to the mountains, but, as was often the case, most people were narrow-minded. Only when the roar of the giant horn pierced the sky did they realize that the danger wouldn’t just pass them by.
Below, Simon fussed as he received the visitors. The people were using the iron-ice bridge above the pass, under the arch held open by Serra, and then entering the parade ground area. They were then hastily assigned rooms in the newly-built barracks and the caves carved into the rocks.
There were almost seven million people living at the foot of the Black Mountains, so everyone would end up being cramped and uncomfortable.
Some people didn’t understand that their very lives were on the line, and so they’d carried all their belongings with them. Some of them had even brought along loaded donkeys and horses. Those people were forced to either carry their things themselves or go back with their animals to the foot of the mountains. They began shouting and scrambling, which was immediately stopped by the soldiers of the Moon Army that were supervising the new arrivals.
Hadjar looked off into the distance.
Among the heavy gray clouds, he searched for the outlines of birds, flying lizards, and snakes. He peered toward the treetops, trying to discern even the slightest rustle or any other trace of the beasts that were charging toward them.
But everything was silent.
Inside the fortress, people were shouting, their dogs were howling, and horses were neighing. Some of them even tried to fight for their rights and were claiming that the soldiers were obliged to protect them. They were immediately shouted down not by the Moon soldiers but by their own friends and neighbors.
Hadjar and his army didn’t owe the inhabitants of these settlements anything. He hadn’t taken anything from them, and all the food had been bought or bartered for ‘honestly’ by Simon. It wasn’t their duty to protect them, and most generals in Hadjar’s place would’ve left all the villagers to die outside of their walls. Just because it would’ve been easier. In a war, you often couldn’t afford to make these kinds of difficult decisions. They would inevitably hinder your army or even lead to its outright defeat.
Seconds of waiting became minutes, then hours. The endless river of villagers and their possessions continued to slowly stream into the area behind the walls. Hundreds of thousands of people had chosen to seek shelter in the mountains. A million villagers had already come.
Hadjar was no longer looking into the distance. Instead, he was now sitting on the parapet, his back against the ice tooth. The General was calmly sharpening his sword which didn’t really need to be sharpened, but he needed a distraction.
It was a soldier’s habit that calmed the nerves and allowed them not to think too deeply. It was sometimes better not to think about what was coming.
They still had three hours before the beasts ar-
“By the demons…” Someone whispered in disbelief. “It’s a whole oce-”
He didn’t get to finish speaking. The thundering roar of the horn struck his ears again—long and low. This time, it struck terror into the people’s hearts, both villagers and warriors alike.
Hadjar jumped to his feet and looked into the distance once again. What he had at first mistaken for a black storm cloud was, in fact, a myriad of flying beasts. They now covered the sky. Birds, lizards, snakes, flying wolves and tigers... Millions of small, black dots had fused into a single dark and ominous cloud.
Below them, on the ground, the trees weren’t just shaking, they were falling down with a crash, sending mounds of snow flying into the air. If a veritable horde of creatures was flying through the sky, then there must’ve been ten times their number on the ground. Moving in a single column, they were charging straight at the villages and the ice fortress towering over them. Lions, leopards, and panthers streamed across the mountains. They were overtaken by mountain sheep whose hooves sent out flames, their horns shining like a blacksmith’s furnace.
Hundreds of thousands of animals at the level of the Awakening of Power and higher were making their way along the sides of the mountains, forgoing the lower ground.
Fixing the anomaly in the registry.
Code:
17%!82
Threat level:
super lethal
Chance of the host’s survival:
<0.74%
“We must raise the bridge, Hadj!” Nero shouted, standing next to him.
Hadjar watched the line of people still going into the fortress. They hadn’t seen the threat coming from the direction of the high hills and frozen rivers yet, but they had heard the roar of the horn. The people were visibly panicking. They started running toward the fortress, pushing each other and falling into the snow, which became soaked in crimson as people were trampled underfoot.
Mothers tried to push their frightened and crying children forward, and husbands tried to do the same with their wives.
A real bottleneck formed at the entrance to the fortress. Crying, screaming, blood—everything mixed together into a single palette of horror and despair.
“If you don’t raise the bridge,” forgetting about his lower rank, Nero seized his comrade’s shoulder, “we’re all going to die. Every one of us! Raise the bridge, damn you!”
Hadjar immediately dismissed the image of Elizabeth—his mother—from his mind. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t trying to save him from the traitor Primus. If he succumbed to sentimentality, if he allowed the cries of mothers and children to influence his decisions… they really would all die.”
“Raise the bridge,” Hadjar ordered the officer on the wall.
“But, my General, there are still people out there.”
“And there are people in here!” Hadjar pointed to the millions of frightened faces already huddled behind the golden barrier. “Most of the villagers are already under our protection. As for those who end up outside... May the gods help and protect them. Raise the bridge, Officer! That’s an order.”
The young officer swallowed, quickly wiped his sleeve across his face, and turned to his subordinates.
“Raise the bridge!” The order came and was followed by shouts and cries.
Then came more orders:
“Close the gate!”
“Pour water on the walls!”
“Uncover the cannons!”
“Archers, prepare your arrows!”
While carrying out their orders, each soldier was chanting a prayer. They were asking the forefathers to forgive them for all their sins and to take them to their heavenly homes where their families and lovers were waiting for them.
Hadjar gave a few more orders and, adjusting his sword, went to one of the towers. He tried not to look down as he did so. The people who’d managed to climb the rising bridge were now trying to break through the heavy gate and were dying in the ensuing scramble.
Their deaths, like thousands of others, would soon be yet another burden for him to bear. He was going to have
to avenge the death of each of them. They would go to the forefathers together with dozens of beasts killed in their name.
Hadjar swore they would.
Chapter 155
Hadjar climbed the highest tower slowly. It was even taller than the watchtower with the gigantic horn. He had to go up a looping, steep staircase, made of ice and covered with rough oak boards, to get up it.
Shielding his face from the wind, Hadjar managed to reach the top. There was a cannon there that had been built specifically for the General. In the entire army, only he had enough strength to handle such a thing. He tore the cover off it, exposing eight black trunks—four trunks on each side of the load-bearing axis.
The cannon was about 15 feet tall and each trunk was at least 10 feet high. Hadjar picked up one of the nearby boxes of cannonballs, struggling under its weight. He carried it to the cannon and, taking off his gloves, loaded the ten ‘mischief makers’, as Tuur called them, into the cannon’s special chutes.
Sitting down in a specially designed iron chair, Hadjar turned the handle that activated the machinery. Massive sprockets began to rotate beneath his feet and the weapon reluctantly turned toward the cloud of different monsters floating in the sky.
They got closer with every minute that passed, and it was soon possible to see them clearly.
Hadjar raised the oval scope and gave the order: “Focus fire on targets that are the greatest threat.”
The neural network responded with the familiar click and a red scope consisting of two crossed lines and several circles appeared before Hadjar’s eyes.
Hadjar wasn’t a marksman or an archer. He couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn while standing ten yards away. But with the help of the neuronet, he could shoot even better than Lian—the leader of the archers.
[Marksman module has been activated. Targets will be highlighted according to threat level. Commencing scan now…]
Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2 Page 41
