Olgerd was a little surprised that the swarthy, short, and frail stranger knew the language of his people, and so was Sankesh.
“You insulted your generous host who gave you shelter in his house. In doing so, you violated the laws of hospitality and dishonored yourself. Will you accept my challenge and seize the chance to wash away your shame with blood?”
The ritual phrase of the challenge sounded different depending on the culture, but the meaning always remained the same. Hadjar didn’t bother trying to defend himself or appeal to Olgerd’s common sense. The warrior had received an order from his konung and, even if he hadn’t agreed with it, he would’ve still carried it out. Had he done anything else, Hadjar would’ve lost his respect for this ferocious man. By the Evening Star, he had no reason not to respect this man who had followed their leader to the other side of the world. Instead of answering him, Hadjar simply unsheathed Mountain Wind.
Olgerd nodded and, holding up his saber, which looked more like a huge cleaver, banged its hilt against his shield. Immediately, the spectators formed a ring around them with a diameter of at least seven yards. No one wanted to get hit by the random echoes of their skirmish. Only Sankesh sat down at his oak table and rested his jaw on his fist again.
Olgerd flexed his shoulders and neck as he circled his opponent. They crunched like millstones. Hadjar, as usual, stood absolutely motionless in the centre of the ring of bodies.
In a single smooth action, he pulled off his turban and wound it around the sleeves of his caftan, tying them down so that they didn’t hamper his movements. His black hair, which had grown back and was now loose around his shoulders, swayed slightly in the wind. The ornaments given to him by the Bedouin shaman tinkled melodiously.
Hadjar sensed Olgerd’s attack before the man even launched it. Hadjar could see the energy flowing through the northerner’s body, how it surged out from his core located in his solar plexus, going to his nodes and meridians, how it then flowed to his legs and arms, amplifying them, then rushed to his sword and shield.
The northerner, roaring like a beast, attacked him. He charged his foe like an angry bear. His movements were so swift he left a blurry afterimage behind him.
The saber’s powerful strike crashed into Hadjar. It was amazing. The Heaven Soldier’s attack was so powerful it could’ve broken the spine of a Terror Wolf.
Hadjar, his sword tucked behind his back so that the tip was only slightly visible, took... a slight half-step to the side. He watched as Olgerd’s saber came crashing down just a few inches from his nose like it was moving in slow motion. The crowd let out a frustrated sigh. It looked like he’d gotten lucky.
With another, identical growl, the northerner turned around, and before the waves of sand he’d kicked up even subsided, he made another slash. Hadjar sensed his movements again. This time, he didn’t even take a step. He simply leaned back to let the blow pass over his head, then straightened and swung his blade slightly.
It was as smooth as a leaf floating on a river, but at the same time, fast enough to leave behind a blurry, undulating trail. Olgerd, sensing the danger, immediately backed away. However, it was too late. The first drops of blood fell to the sand, and with them, the severed braids of his beard. The latter fact made the northerner angry at first, which was then immediately replaced by an icy calm.
“Sorry, warrior.” Olgerd struck his shield with the hilt of his saber.
Hadjar just nodded. He could’ve probably taken advantage of his foe’s arrogance and gone right for the throat. However, he’d come here today with two goals: to learn more about his enemy’s strength... and his own as well.
This time, Olgerd didn’t attack like a bear. His appearance seemed to have changed. He assumed a low stance. His steps were wide and smooth. He squinted slightly and kept moving his nose toward the wind.
Hadjar had seen this before. Once, in the mountains of Balium, he’d witnessed a three-tailed snow leopard hunt. This looked exactly the same. A second later, Hadjar understood his mistake. He’d been relying on his instincts and hadn’t been prepared for Olgerd to hide the flow of his energy from him.
The edge of his blade was encrusted with ice, and the attack he launched from a distance turned into five icy fangs. Hadjar reacted too late to deal with all of them. Moving smoothly but quickly, he managed to cut through three of them. They melted in the air, scattering like snow dust. The fourth only grazed his left shoulder, but the fifth bit into his thigh. If he hadn’t used a Technique for Strengthening the Body, such a blow would’ve simply severed Hadjar’s leg. As it was, it had lodged itself in his muscles.
With a snarl, Hadjar tore the bloody icicle out of his leg and threw it on the snowy ground. Now it was his turn to beat his fist against his heart and for Olgerd to nod.
Tornadoes of energy that were the color of steel, sky, and snow whirled around them. The real fight had begun.
Chapter 372
The northerner swung his saber, crouched abruptly, and thrust it into the ground. Waves of icy energy spread out from it. The sand gradually crusted over with ice. Copies of Olgerd’s saber shot out from it, looking like sharp spikes made of crystal-clear ice and each was as large as a young tree.
Unlike with the similar Technique that the emerald wolf had used, these sabers didn’t ripple, allowing one to predict where they’d attack from next. They simply popped out of the layer of ice with which Olgerd had covered their entire fighting area when they struck.
Each time a saber appeared, Hadjar barely managed to avoid the deadly ice at the last moment. Relying on his great reflexes, he dodged, sliding across the ice on his scuffed boots.
The northerner growled something menacing and pulled his saber out of the ice. Hadjar almost stumbled into an ice spike that appeared suddenly. He realized then that he’d never seen such a Technique before. A Technique capable of functioning and attacking even without being directly controlled by its owner.
Olgerd chuckled and shook his shoulders slightly. Taking a deep breath, he brushed the wet flakes of snow and ice out of his long hair.
Slamming his saber against his shield once again, he assumed a low stance. This time, his movements weren’t just fast, they were like lightning. He wasn’t running, he wasn’t flying, he was simply pushing off the ground and sliding across the ice.
Crossing the distance to his opponent in a split second, he slashed down. Hadjar blocked the attack above his head. The force of the blow buried his feet nearly ankle-deep in the cracked ice.
The northerner’s smile widened, and Hadjar guessed he’d made a mistake. Not wanting to find out what happens next, he blurred into a shadowy form as he used the Six Ravens Technique, and then leapt back. As he flew over the ice, he could feel another ice saber pop out from where he’d just been standing.
Hadjar had acted quickly. But not quickly enough.
His left leg hurt like it had been submerged in a frozen lake. The pain wasn’t severe, but when Hadjar landed and tried to move his injured leg, he could do so only after his third attempt. The wound left behind by the ice saber didn’t bleed like the wounds inflicted by the emerald wolf’s Technique had. There was a long cut just below his ankle. Its smooth edges, covered in ice, seemed to curl inward.
His Technique for Strengthening the Body was working overtime, using up a lot of his much-needed energy. However, Hadjar felt that if he stopped the regeneration process for even a moment, his left leg would turn into a lifeless ice statue.