“Where’s the bald man?” Shakh asked, pressing the dagger a little harder into Hadjar’s neck.
A trickle of blood ran down the blade. The drops, as they fell to the grass, created a slight echo. Well, maybe he’d changed over the past months, but some skills could only be acquired with enough experience.
“He’s busy setting up the camp,” Hadjar said, squinting at the blood behind him. How long would it take Einen to notice his absence and follow the trail?
“That’s good. I’ll kill him after you.”
“If you’re going to kill me, why draw things out?”
“I don’t know,” Shakh said, almost laughing, “Maybe I want to savor the pleasure.”
“You’d better go see the healers about that. They have special herbs-”
The dagger jerked again and more blood covered the ground. Some skills could definitely only be acquired through years of practice.
“Shut up and keep walking, traitor.”
They moved slowly through the dense undergrowth until they came to a cluster of boulders. Hadjar stopped. Cold and slightly damp, the stones lay in a mound, right in the middle of a wide clearing that was on the very border with another lake.
Even without knowing what to look for, it was easy to spot the spell cast over this landscape. It had been put up in a hurry, not particularly thought out, and very cheap. The talisman that had been used to cast it cost less than a quarter of an imperial coin and was very popular with the Bedouins. These kinds of stones looked more natural in the desert than in the centre of an oasis.
Without looking into the World River, Hadjar touched the surface of the stones with his palm. Instead of a rough surface, he only felt slightly condensed air.
Smiling at the fact his hunch had been correct, Hadjar stepped forward. He passed through the spell and came to the edge of a camp. Either the gods were mocking them or Ramukhan was an idiot, because they’d stopped just a quarter of an hour away from another group of hunters.
No wonder Shakh had ambushed him so easily. There was a stunning view of the slope they’d recently used to get to the oasis from this camp. And all the while, they’d been watched like naïve, bumbling schoolchildren.
“It’s nice to see some familiar faces,” Hadjar grinned.
By the fire sat a group of men with whom he’d had several perilous adventures. However, not one of them looked the same as they had three months ago.
Kharad, the caravan’s former head scout, had lost his arrogant demeanor. He looked tired. He fidgeted with his scarf and a necklace made from a Desert Raven’s claws. His Desert Raven’s claws…
Sular was the only other scout sitting around the fire. He was silent, as always. His falcon would most likely not be able to fly in the near future. It was sitting on a log, cleaning its bandaged, broken wing. There were other caravan guards there was well, ones whose names Hadjar couldn’t remember.
“Sit down,” Shakh ordered, kicking Hadjar in the back of both knees.
His legs buckled and he fell to the warm ground. He could’ve tolerated that kind of treatment, but the slap that Shakh gave him as he passed him… Hadjar’s eyes flashed, and the grass around him, as if being reaped by a huge scythe, was cut down and began to whirl around dangerously. Shakh had barely enough time to react, and so did the others, when grass blades rushed toward their chests. A few inches from the boy’s flesh, the grass sword was stopped by a glowing wall of golden energy.
“Calm down, Northerner, we mean you no harm” came a coughing, hoarse whisper.
“Speak for yourself, uncle,” Shakh spat out.
He was ready to fight. Not two, but three sand dogs prowled around him. Each of them had a dagger in its mouth instead of a tongue. He held two more daggers in his hands. He’d obviously changed a lot. In his eyes, there was neither fear, nor the desire to show off, only cold calculation. He looked like a desert wolf.
“I agree with Shakh,” Kharad said hoarsely. “This is the only way we can honor Rahaim.”
“Idiots!” Shakar shouted, then coughed wetly.
“Uncle!”
Shakh rushed over to his uncle and Hadjar could now see the man lying on the other side of the fire. Gods and demons, what had these past months done to the Heaven Soldier who’d once been able to send Hadjar flying back a dozen paces with a single swing of his saber? He was so weak now that he could hardly speak. He was lying on a makeshift stretcher. Shakh helped him get up to a semi-sitting position. Shakar covered his mouth with his hand, but dirty blood spurted through his fingers with every cough. And it was just that, dirty — red, but with black, oily stains.
Covered with a blanket, he tried to hide the stumps of his left arm and leg from Hadjar. Yellow bandages were wrapped around his once broad and powerful chest. Now he looked like a skeleton.
“It’s all right, Shakh,” Shakar whispered, settling back into his pillows. “Let the Northerner come closer.”
Shakh looked at Hadjar with hatred, jerked his head in his uncle’s direction, and walked away. Hadjar took a couple of deep breaths, calmed his inner dragon, and walked over to the former chief of security.
“Bend down so I can see you,” Shakar said.
Hadjar noticed that the cultivator’s left eye was missing. Instead, a black, scorched eye socket gaped open in its place. His right eye, which he still had, looked lifeless. It was almost a milky white.
“Just as I thought,” the cultivator said. “Hadjar didn’t betray the Contract.”
“He could have done it a thousand other ways-”
“Shakh,” his uncle interrupted him. “I understand your desire to take it out on someone, but the northerner isn’t the one to do it on.”
Hadjar felt a faint breath on the wind and saw the darkness thicken behind Shakh. As he’d expected, Einen hadn’t kept him waiting for long.
“Tell me, boy,” the islander hissed, pressing the boy’s own dagger, deftly drawn from its scabbard, to Shakh’s throat. “Does it feel good to have a dagger held to your throat?”
Kharad, Sular, and the other guards sprang to their feet, but Einen only pressed the dagger harder against Shakh’s throat. The first drops of blood fell to the ground.
“Another step and-”
Suddenly, Shakh turned into sand and vanished into thin air, only to reform a moment later behind the islander. The situation had turned upside down: now the young man was holding a dagger to Einen’s throat.
“You can answer your own question, baldy.”
Before Shakh managed to do anything, Hadjar blurred into the shadow of the Six Ravens. He snatched up Mountain Wind, which had fallen from Shakh’s hand when he’d done his sand trick. Standing behind Shakh, Hadjar held his blade above the boy’s head.
Utter silence fell over the clearing.
“Well, this is a rather familiar situation, isn’t it?” Shakh asked with a hint of amusement.
“We’re just missing Ilmena,” Einen nodded.
Shakh dropped his weapon first.
“You don’t have a mark on you either,” he breathed out slowly, showing his deep disappointment. “Damned Sankesh…”
“What happened to all of you?” Hadjar asked.