The Shadow grabbed Hadjar’s hand and led him through the streets and buildings.
“Did you…”
“No,” the Shadow shook its head. “I had no father, and after courting the General for five years, I began to feel a kinship with him. Maybe he felt the same way, otherwise …”
She waved her hand again, starting the next scene. The Black General, howling furiously, was trying to break through an energy veil. He struck it fiercely with his sword, creating waves of echoes so powerful that they cut through the city as if it were made of sand. Each swing of the Black General’s sword against the veil produced a black-and-red crescent of lightning. All of them were enormous, a few hundred feet at least, but they kept going around the sphere of energies and flying on for miles. Hadjar’s heart stopped at the sight. The power of the wounded demigod was more than astonishing.
Hadjar was certain that the Shadow was protecting him somehow, or one look at what was happening would’ve ended him. The city was on fire. The buildings, trees, water, people, even the very air burned.
The golden flames consumed all.
In the center of the golden sphere that was blocking the Black General’s attacks stood a figure, one whose appearance Hadjar couldn’t discern. It held the girl’s hand.
“I told you, D-” Another explosion drowned out the name. “I’ll destroy everything you hold dear. Just as you destroyed everything that was dear to me.”
“No!” The cry of desperation created an explosion so powerful that the nearest neighborhoods were reduced to rubble. However, even such a violent storm couldn’t leave so much as a scratch on the golden dome, and then it was over.
Hadjar was back on the edge of the clouds, staring into the abyss of the universe. The crying female face hovered in front of him.
“I wasn’t the strongest, little warrior,” she said, “and you see me now only because I was the last survivor of the Sacred Abode of Wisdom. Even if I only outlived everyone else for just a few moments.”
“Who was that? Who destroyed the city and killed you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did they want to destroy everything that the General held dear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did the General fall from the sky?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damn it!” Hadjar shouted, lashing out at the void. “What was his name?”
The Shadow of the last sorceress looked into Hadjar’s eyes. How many millions of years had she spent in this state, contemplating the nature of all things and unable to influence the course of events? She had witnessed the once prosperous land turn into a lifeless desert.
“My hour has come, descendant of the Enemy.” The outline of the girl’s face began to grow hazy, “I have been entrusted with the will of the Sacred Abode of Wisdom, and I have sought someone who can free me... us…”
“What was his name?”
“I can leave in peace now. The time has come for this land to vanish into the dust of time. I have only one gift for you, forgive me.”
“Tell me, Shadow, what was his name?” Hadjar cried out, feeling the clouds float away into the boundless cosmos.
Hadjar felt the cold stone beneath his feet. Blinking, he realized he was standing on the crumbling stone bridge. Behind him was the plateau, and ahead of him, blue sparks flickered faintly on the crumbling domes of the ancient buildings.
“You already know his name, Darkhan.”
Hadjar held something cold and wet in his fist. Unclenching it, he saw a small, blue plate made from an unknown stone. The same kind of stone that the girl’s bracelets had been made from.
“Are you all right, Hadjar?” Einen asked.
“Just watch, he’s going to say he knows where we need to go or make a prophecy or something like that,” Glen wailed.
“We must hurry,” Hadjar said, ignoring the Baliumian and heading toward the pavilions.
Glen had an ‘I-told-you-so’ expression on his face.
Chapter 398
The squad was marching toward the central tower. As they got closer to it, they realized that it was just the roof, and the rest of the building was hidden beneath the stone.
They should have encountered a myriad of traps and mighty guards, but they ended up taking a brisk walk. No one mentioned Serra’s gift, but Hadjar doubted that the little sorceress’ stone had any power over the defenses of the holy of holies. After three hours of fruitless wandering among the towers, Glen decided to voice what they were all thinking:
“I don’t think we’ll find anything here.”
“Was it all a lie?” Tilis bit her lip.
They were standing near the largest of the buildings. The gray brick tower stood about five hundred feet above the ground. It was so tall that, while standing at its base, it was impossible to see the top of the spire. An ancient staircase wound around the front. Or rather, its remains did, which consisted of a few steps. Everything else now looked like the ruffles on a servant’s skirt.
“Maybe our resident prophet has some more bright ideas?” The Baliumian turned to Hadjar.
The northerner was standing in the middle of the plateau, looking inward. His bleary look was the only answer Glen received.
“Damn you!” The Baliumian cursed. “Ramukhan, we have to do something.”
An hour earlier, two red dots had appeared in the sky to the west and east. Now they stretched out in long, scarlet plumes, seeking to intersect just above the tower under which the squad stood. It was only a matter of hours before other seekers, including Sankesh, discovered the place.
“Perhaps there’s an underground entrance somewhere around here,” Ramukhan said thoughtfully, stroking the beard he’d grown over the course of their journey.
“You really think so?” Glen chuckled. “Well, in that case…”
Unsheathing his sword, he exhaled noisily and unleashed a powerful attack on the plateau. It would’ve shattered any boulder, but not even a scratch appeared on the rock beneath the group’s feet. The Baliumian barely managed to still the tremor in his right hand, and then, glancing at his sword, swore viciously. There was now a chip on the cutting edge.
“What the-”
“If it were that simple, you empty-headed buffoon,” Karissa hissed, “This place wouldn’t be legendary!”
“I haven’t heard any of your brilliant ideas yet!” Glen roared in response.
While the rest of the squad argued about a solution to the problem, Hadjar remained motionless. He couldn’t believe what he’d learned. Was the Black General truly his ancestor? Did his soul really contain the General’s sword, the sword of someone he’d considered a simple hero from a fairy tale? He’d thought of him a tragic character, one that had always attracted his sympathy, but never the desire to imitate him. The Black General had so much blood on his hands... Damn, even Primus was purer and fluffier than Azrea when compared to him. No, even Derger, the God of War, was a kind person in comparison to his former General.
Moreover, he’d found a scroll with the image of the General in the ring of ‘The Black Gates’ sect’s Patriarch. Although, that one was easy enough to explain. The Black Mountains. The Black Gates. The Enemy of everything, as he was called in Einen’s stories, must have left some of his legacy behind there, as well. However, Hadjar was certain that the General was called the Enemy in most other stories and that only a few people, including his mother, had never mentioned that word, and had only called him the ‘Black General’ instead.