“Let me hear a proper roar, beast! I want to see your power! Assume your true form,” the bird urged him.
Traves remained lying on the ground. He knew that if he used too much power, the resulting dissonance could harm Hadjar. He wouldn’t allow this to happen, and not just because the young man hadn’t completed his part of their deal...
“Know your place, reptile,” the black bird croaked out snidely.
The pressure disappeared, and Traves, breathing heavily, got back up and sat on the stone. Looking at the bird, he realized how enormous this world truly was. Residing on the border between his and Hadjar’s soul, he hadn’t immediately noticed the presence of anyone else. A few years had passed before the black spark regained consciousness. Even more time had passed before it had been able to free itself from the shackles that the laws of the Heavens and Earth had bound it in. Traves hadn’t paid attention to it at first. Then everything changed when Hadjar passed the test of the Tree of Life and accepted its gift. He’d taken that damned black sword... Traves hadn’t been able to believe his eyes. His mother had used to scare him with those old, stupid horror stories back when he’d been a child. Only after his death had Traves learned that those horror stories were all true.
How strong the Enemy must have been billions of years ago if even now, after his death, his remnant, which was just a billionth part of the smallest grain of his power, was able to influence someone else’s soul.
“Why don’t you just kill me?” Traves asked.
“You’re already dead.”
“You know what I mean.”
The bird looked at the dragon.
“You’re already strong enough to get rid of me,” Traves continued. “Then Hadjar won’t have to fulfill his part of our deal and you’ll be able to directly influence him and forge the boy into your ideal weapon.”
“The boy,” the bird repeated slowly. “Do you truly sympathize with his plight, oh fierce Lord of the Heavens?”
The bird said those last words with a grin.
“You don’t? He’s blood of your blood. Flesh of your flesh.”
“Flesh of my flesh,” the bird laughed. “Thousands of people just like him are scattered all over this world. People who have my blood flowing through their veins and my spirit sleeping within them.”
“But your spirit only awoke inside him.”
“For now, yes. But, even dead, you can sense that the winds of change have started blowing. Mage City will soon appear and the Magistrate of the Seventh Heaven is making more and more mistakes by the day. Mortals are fighting more often, animals are moving from place to place... Even your reptile brain, lacking though it may be, can surely comprehend that all of this is related.”
Traves didn’t answer. He really did feel like something was happening in the outside world. It was unlikely, however, that anyone besides the great Immortals could also notice these changes. So, proximity to the Enemy and being in a state of neither life nor death had its advantages.
“As for this lump of flesh,” it was clear that the bird was referring to Hadjar, “as you so eloquently put it, a child shouldn’t play with real weapons. Let him play with you in your little sandbox. You’re perfect for each other, you miserable jerks.”
“He’ll die trying to repay his debt to me.”
“If he does, that means he’s too weak!” The bird raised its voice only slightly, but black lightning flashed across the sky. “If he doesn’t, he’ll become stronger. Maybe I’ll pay more attention to him if that happens.”
Traves watched the flashing lightning disappear.
“Then why are you trying so hard to restrain yourself, Enemy? Assume your true form, break through the boundaries of his soul, and emerge into the real world once again.”
The bird’s red eyes flashed again.
“Stop teasing me, reptile. As soon as I do that, there will be nothing left of your precious piece of flesh, not even a memory.”
“Nor of you, Enemy,” Traves’ voice began to turn into a growl again, “and perhaps Hadjar would consider it an honor to die, if it meant locking you up for the next several billion years.”
“I’ll awaken in others.”
“While you are awake in him, the rest of your descendants won’t be able to awaken your pitiful remains. On top of that, you already presented your sword to this family.”
“The others also have some gifts.”
“But not the sword!” Traves rose again. His hair swayed, turning into scales. “So don’t pretend that you don’t care about his fate. You depend on him as much as he does on my heart! I’ll say it again, Enemy. Get out! Don’t show your face here again!”
The bird spread its wings and croaked menacingly, but then flapped its wings once, then a second time, and then it completely disappeared somewhere behind the clouds, becoming a distant, black dot.
Traves was about to immerse himself in meditation that would allow him to observe Hadjar’s life, when the wind brought the words: ‘Your time is nigh, reptile!’ along with loud laughter. It was hot, like steel that had recently seen battle.
Traves looked up at the sky. The clouds turned white again and the gray disappeared, returning to its original azure. The wind was light and warm again. By the High Heavens, every time he visited this place, with each new step he took along the cultivation path, Hadjar only got closer to his death.
“He’ll never be your slave, Enemy.”
The bird didn’t answer, and Traves finally plunged into meditation.
Chapter 379
Hadjar opened his eyes. His heart ached. He’d never felt like this after meeting with his Master. However, at that moment, he felt as if he’d fought himself. Shaking his head, Hadjar disregarded his musings and looked up at the sky. He read the stars, determining his approximate location and making simple calculations to discover that he had slept for...
“Three days of healthy, sound sleep,” Salif whispered, helping Hadjar sit up, “is the best medicine, in my opinion.”
So it had been three days, not eight.... He really missed the neural network sometimes!
Thanking the old man, Hadjar got up and stretched with relish. After a three-day sleep, he felt completely rested, but his body was numb. His muscles, deprived of any physical activity, had ‘gotten lazy’.
‘Where is everyone?” Hadjar asked.
A bonfire was crackling nearby. Hieroglyphs were flickering along the borders of their camp, erecting another veil. Only he, the old man, and the servant boy were near the fire.
“They left to look for your lake,” Salif answered, advising the boy on how to cook the porridge.
“Of course,” Hadjar nodded. “My lake.”
Recalling South Wind’s advice that only old people could argue with old people and he should thus try to avoid doing so himself, Hadjar looked around again, more attentively this time. However, nothing much had changed over the past few days.
The forest was the same, full of strange vegetation unknown to Hadjar — a mixture of palm trees, birches, and fir trees. They looked a little scary, but were quite harmless. Of course, if you confused a vine or a branch with a venomous snake, it wouldn’t end well for you.