“That’s right.” Derek nodded and held out a scroll sealed with a magic hieroglyph. “We are here to serve in your intelligence gathering and patrol squads for three months.”
Accepting the scroll from him, the senior officer touched the hieroglyph with her ring. The two symbols — the magic one and the engraved one — came together and the seal disappeared in a shower of sparks. After reading the scroll’s contents, she saluted again.
“It is an honor to receive the aid of the inner circle disciples of the ‘Red Mule’ school,” she said in an official manner. “Unfortunately, you chose the worst possible time to arrive. An army of orcs is advancing toward us. We’ll try to hold them off as long as we can, but…” She shook her head, making her polished armor rattle unpleasantly. “You’d better leave Fort Boltoy with the rest of the civilians.”
Hadjar didn’t listen to the rest of their conversation. Out of habit, he shook some of the ash from his pipe onto his palm, smeared it with his fingers, and then tossed it into the air. The wind picked it up and carried it off somewhere in the direction of the southeast. The senior officer noticed his gesture, which was unique to professional soldiers.
“Who are you, young man?”
Hadjar almost laughed. He was five years older than her, but appeared to be twenty due to the dragon blood in his veins and his level.
“Where did you serve?” The Spirit Knight added.
The trio looked at Hadjar in surprise. They’d already pegged him as an outcast from some great clan that had run away from the world of martial arts.
“On the far border,” Hadjar replied, not lying, but not saying the entire truth either. “There will be no battle today.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Commander!” The Spirit Knight saluted.
The three disciples bowed stiffly, more out of respect for the man’s high level of cultivation than because of his status.
Hadjar also tried to bow, but the Lord stopped him with a wave of his hand. In his current state, Hadjar didn’t look like a strong Heaven Soldier. Of all the people present on the wall, only the three disciples knew his true power.
“Do you know the orcs well enough to claim that they’re just out on a walk?”
Hadjar didn’t respond. He was well aware that everyone was nervous. Even with the commander’s experience in battle, he had probably never taken part in a real war. Unlike Hadjar, who had been involved in several of them.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Glittering spearheads began to appear on the horizon. Hundreds, no, thousands of spears rose to greet the dawn. They were held aloft by creatures whose very appearance inspired a kind of primal awe. They seemed at once like the greatest of predators and the mightiest of hunters.
The creatures had red skin and rode black, gray, and white wolves, each of which was the size of a horse. As for the orcs themselves, even the smallest among them were six and a half feet tall. Those that stood out were ten feet tall and even taller in some cases. It wasn’t surprising that such giants, who also possessed skin and muscles as tough as iron, didn’t need armor. Instead, they wore pauldrons that barely covered their broad shoulders, and belts to guard their solar plexus. They wore traditional clothing made from leather and hides rather than artifacts. Their long black hair was adorned with eagle feathers, and how many feathers they had depended on the orc’s status. The largest and most ferocious-looking one of them had more than a hundred such feathers.
Stopping a mile from Boltoy, the orc leader jumped off his mount. Swinging his spear over his head, he drove the blunt end of it into the ground. Hadjar felt the walls of the fort shake.
“Get ready!” The Lord signaled with his hand.
Then the orc opened his mouth. His lower fangs, long enough to touch his cheeks, glinted in the sun.
“TALK!” He roared.
Chapter 542
The commander of Fort Boltoy and the senior officers went to greet the orc army. They’d dismounted and were now walking alongside their wolves. Several orcs, including their leader, went ahead. The two groups met in the middle, right between the army and the fort.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Irma whispered.
“I don’t think it’s anything good.”
Derek nodded in the direction of the orc leader, who’d let his daughter, or his wife, do the talking. By human standards, she looked like a man, but in comparison to the other orcs, she looked slender and feminine.
The commander spoke to the female orc, then turned back to the fort. He looked at Hadjar, who realized they’d been talking about him. Well, not him, but his tattoo. All the orcs were showing off the Name tattoos on their chests. The senior officer broke off from the group and, spurring her horse, returned to the fort.
“Wounded soldier! Your presence has been requested!” She shouted up at them. “The commander has called for you!”
The trio exchanged glances and walked down with Hadjar. The senior officer didn’t seem happy about that, but she didn’t dare protest.
“Mount up.” She slapped the horse’s rump.
Groaning, Hadjar hobbled over to the horse. Azrea suddenly jumped out of his shirt, landed gracefully on the ground, and growled.
“Calm down, li-”
A vortex of white energy swirled around the cub. Turning into flames and lightning bolts, it shrank to the size of a small ball before erupting in a pillar of monstrous energy that reached the sky. When it dispersed, everyone instinctively grabbed for their weapons, staring at the beast that had appeared in front of them. Her fur sparked with lightning bolts, and her eyes glittered with white fire. The beast’s aura was at the Ancient Stage, which was equal to a peak human Spirit Knight.
“-ttle one,” Hadjar finished, his face expressionless.
Thank you, Nero — hope your rebirth was peaceful — for making me gamble so much. Hadjar was able to maintain a poker face in almost any situation thanks to his late brother dragging him to various card games. He walked up to Azrea calmly.
He’d made two steps before Azrea stuck out her tongue and licked his face. After she was done, he slicked back his tousled, wet hair. Hadjar was sure that if he hadn’t had the dragon’s blood in him, Azrea’s little display of affection would’ve scraped off his skin right to the bone. Hugging her huge neck, Hadjar buried his face in her soft, sweet-smelling fur.
“Little liar,” he whispered into her ear.
Azrea’s purr made the pebbles around her shake. She rested her huge head on Hadjar’s back and rubbed her cheek against him. She didn’t look like a fearsome beast that could destroy half the fort’s garrison on her own, but like an affectionate, playful pet. Moving away from Azrea, Hadjar looked into her eyes. Despite her great power and immense growth, he found the same kind and loving cub that had saved his life many times in them.
“I’m the one who should be taking care of you, not the other way around,” Hadjar smiled, stroking her chin.
Azrea yawned, as if saying: “You’re such a bore.”
Hadjar laughed. “Don’t think this is the end of our conversation!”
The tigress lay down on her belly and tilted her head to one side. I’ve heard that one before. Her tail slapped the ground and then her own back.
“Well, if you insist.” Hadjar smiled.
Putting the crutches into his spatial ring, he collapsed onto her back. Azrea didn’t even flinch, because to her, he weighed barely more than a feather. With some difficulty, Hadjar swung his leg over her back and held on to her thick fur. Azrea stood up, glared at everyone present, and instantly turned into a white lightning bolt. Before Hadjar could even figure out what she was planning, he was already near the two groups. Looking behind him, he estimated that Azrea had covered the vast distance in less than ten seconds. It turned out that the tigress could now run at a speed of 220mph, and, considering how easily she was breathing, this was still nothing to her.
“By the demons and gods!” The o
fficers saw the Ancient Beast and immediately drew their blades.
Streams of power swirled around the Lord.
Azrea let out a low growl.
“Please don’t kill them,” Hadjar whispered.
The tigress purred.
“Well, don’t kill them now, at least”
After staring at the humans for a bit, Azrea lay down again, allowing Hadjar to dismount. He didn’t move too far from her because he wouldn’t be able to fight or escape in his current state. His life depended on her.
The orcs looked away, seemingly not caring about the tigress’ constant growling. She seemed displeased at being ignored.
“Commander,” Hadjar bowed slightly, “Why did you send for me?”
The Lord swallowed and glanced behind Hadjar. By the demons and gods, he’d had no idea that the young man had tamed an Ancient Beast! And a tiger at that! Since ancient times, tigers had always been regarded as the nobility of the animal kingdom. Only mythical creatures stood above them — dragons, phoenixes, azure birds, and others.
“The orcs said that they would only speak to those who have a Name,” he explained. “They said that there is only one such individual among us.”
“I see,” Hadjar said.
He turned to the orcs. They turned to him. The leader slapped the tattoo on his muscular chest with a clenched fist.
“Gurtan, Bear’s Rage, greets you, runt,” he said in a voice that matched his appearance — powerful and ferocious, inspiring both awe and respect, imbued not only with power, but with honor as well. Hadjar would’ve been overjoyed to fight a foe whose voice could say so much about them.
Rolling up his sleeve, Hadjar displayed the red tattoo given to him by the Bedouin shaman.
“Hadjar, North Wind, greets you, giant.”
They stared at each other for a while, until the leader nodded approvingly and sat down on the ground. He needed no chair, nor elaborate negotiation rites and traditions. Ignoring the other humans, he crossed his legs and placed his spear next to him, pointing away from him.
“Let’s talk, North Wind.”
Chapter 543
Hadjar knew that he was in the presence of a foe that he didn’t want to provoke. Gurtan had the aura of a Lord, which, of course, was more potent than that of a human Lord. He was bigger, faster, and stronger. The only thing in which the orcs lagged behind the humans were their artifacts. Their lack of skilled artifactors was the only reason why they hadn’t been able to conquer the entire world by now.
“May the Spirits guide you on the road of life, runt.”
Gurtan first touched two fingers to his heart, then to his forehead, and then drew an arch in the air that seemed to connect him and Hadjar.
“May the journey through the clouds of the High Heavens be a joy to you, giant.”
Hadjar drew a semicircle in the air with his open palm. It was the only greeting he knew to use between Named entities. It had come from the dragon race, but nobody cared about such trifles. They might’ve heard about Lords of the Heavens existing in the Empire, but they’d probably never met them in person.
“I’m glad that we came across someone recognized by the Spirits among these runts.”
The leader nodded to the female orc standing next to him. She, in turn, nodded to a large orc in the back. They took a blanket made from animal fur off one of the wolves, then they spread it across the ground between Hadjar and Gurtan, and finally, they placed two bowls filled with some kind of herbal extract down on it. The female orc then untied a long tube from her belt and retrieved a pipe from it. The pipe was made of bone and almost one and a half feet long, decorated with various symbols and ornaments. She filled it with herbs and handed it to the leader. He lit it and then handed it to Hadjar.
“Guests first,” he explained.
“Guests?” The commander roared, power swirling around him. “Who do these animals think they are?”
The orcs ignored his insults. No one except Hadjar mattered to them at the moment.
After taking the pipe, Hadjar sniffed the herbs first. They smelled sweet, but not acetic. They weren’t poisonous, but they might’ve had hallucinogenic properties. Hadjar was certain that refusing the pipe would be an insult, and he really didn’t want to offend a giant whose biceps were as wide as his waist.
As he inhaled, Hadjar barely managed to keep from coughing. He, a smoker, still choked on the sickly sweet smoke. After holding the smoke in his lungs for a while, he exhaled a thick, white cloud. It soared into the sky and disappeared.
“What... is… this…?” Hadjar asked between light coughs, handing the pipe back to the orc leader.
“The leaves and seeds of a thousand-year-old fern,” he replied, then inhaled from the pipe calmly and deeply.
That answer surprised Hadjar. In the Lascan and Darnassus Empires, a handful of such leaves would’ve cost a hundred coins. Not to mention the fact that this plant was of inestimable value to him. Without its root, he wouldn’t be able to progress on his ‘Path through the Clouds’ meditation Technique, which would render him unable to progress to the advanced stage of the Heaven Soldier level forever.
Thanks to the Dream Grass, his experience, and the accumulated energy of the World River, Hadjar had been able to break through to the middle stage, but that was pretty much all he could do right now. The ‘Path through the Clouds’ Technique was at the Heaven level, and without special ingredients, it would be impossible to go any further with it.
Trying not to show his interest in the plant, Hadjar changed the subject.
“What would you have done, giant, if I hadn’t been in this fort?”
“We would’ve razed it to the ground and moved on,” Gurtan replied, taking another drag and spewing smoke through his nostrils like a dragon.
The sharp sound of weapons being drawn filled the air. Energies swirled around the Lascanians, coalescing into Defensive Techniques. Once again, no one paid them any mind.
Even Azrea yawned and tried to catch a grasshopper with her paw.
“Would you have fought against the Empire?”
“Our people aren’t interested in hunting down humans, runt.” The leader handed the pipe back to the female orc. She took the ritual object reverently, shook out the ashes, and put it back in the tube. “But it’s better than letting the Dah’Khasses become stronger.”
Hadjar had no idea who these Dah’Khasses were, but, judging by the frightened whispers coming from behind him, the Lascanians sure did.
“The Dah’Khasses?”
“Are they even real?”
“My mother used to scare me with stories about them when I was a child! She said that if I didn’t clean up after myself, they’d come and drag me to their horrific dwelling, and I would never see the light again!”
“Damn it all!” Hadjar cursed under his breath.
During his time on this world, he’d learned one thing — all the scary children’s stories turned out to be real sooner or later. Perhaps they’d been greatly exaggerated and distorted, but they were still real.
“Who are these Dah’Khasses?” Hadjar asked, not really looking forward to the answer.
“Little assholes from the Prince’s domain!”
Hadjar used every atom of his discipline to keep his expression neutral. Right next to him, out of thin air, appeared Helmer, the Lord of Nightmares, an ancient demon who remembered a time when the Enemy had fought both for and against his side. A wide-brimmed hat covered his inhuman, gray face and he wore his customary living cloak, which bared predatory fangs at Hadjar. Helmer held a ball of essence in his hands, which looked as if it were bleeding. The only thing different from his last visit was the absence of his army of small, black lumps — personifications of people’s nightmares.
“Don’t worry, friend.” Helmer sprawled out on the ground and pulled his hat over his eyes. “These ants don’t see me, and here-”
Hadjar didn’t have time to say anything before Helmer snatched a fairy out of thin
air.
“My traditional gift to you.”
There was a slight crunch, as if someone had snapped a twig, and the fairy’s body fell at Hadjar’s feet. She was dead, with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. And she was, indeed, one of the best gifts he could’ve asked for. Hadjar hadn’t encountered anything that could feed his Black Blade better than the body of a Seventh Heaven’s spy.
“I don’t like it when they eavesdrop,” Helmer commented, then shook his hands. Orange blood essence floated in the air.
One of the orcs ran up to the female orc and said something to her. She immediately bent down to whisper the information in Gurtan’s ear.
“Our shaman says that a hot wind is blowing. Perhaps one of the Dah’Khasses is watching us.”
“Did he just compare me to those pathetic bloodsuckers?” Helmer’s aura flared up so much it was terrifying. “I might just eat them as punishment.”
Helmer pretended to reach for Gurtan’s throat when a low growl sounded.
Hadjar was surprised to see Azrea, still lying down, lashing the ground with her tail and baring her fangs in a very threatening manner.
“Your cat can smell them too, runt,” the orc leader declared.
“What a clever kitten!” Helmer murmured with a predatory smile. “Can I have it?”
“Over my dead body,” Hadjar answered firmly.
The demon turned to him, that same predatory grin still on his ghastly face.
“That can easily be arranged, you miserable bag of bones.”
Chapter 544
Prepared for anything, Hadjar looked into the demon’s narrow, scarlet eyes. If the laws of the Heavens and the Earth, which even the gods obeyed, hadn’t forbidden it, Helmer would’ve probably burned half of Lascan and Darnassus to the ground by now. Perhaps only the combined efforts of their most elite cultivators, coupled with them using the most powerful artifacts of either Empire, could’ve stopped the Lord of Nightmares. But only stopped, not killed. Even the combined forces of Darnassus and Lascan wouldn’t be able to put him to rest.
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 4
