Using the nameless Technique, Hadjar focused on the image of the Black General. Deep within himself, he was going through one of the most difficult trials of his life. Every mental glance he took at the black silhouette was like walking on a thin, sharp edge, with yawning abysses on either side.
Hadjar didn’t hear the crow rejoicing deep within his soul, nor the sad sigh of the old dragon who’d been unable to save his disciple from his terrible fate. Hadjar didn’t see Erra’s smile — it was the kind of grin a murderer usually gave to their victims before making the final, fatal blow.
In the library, the last few quiet moments were coming to an end. Erra didn’t seem to care. Quite the opposite, in fact. The golem seemed to be waiting for the arrival of Sunshine Sankesh. He didn’t keep them waiting long.
Chapter 404
Sankesh didn’t appear like Hadjar’s group had. He didn’t enter through the magic door, didn’t climb out of a trapdoor or a secret passageway. No. Sankesh and his people just appeared in the middle of the room.
“Get ready.” Ramukhan extended his glowing staff toward the new arrivals.
Hadjar stared at the growing bubble of orange light. It swelled rapidly, taking up more and more space. Gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles cracked, Hadjar tried to see the people inside the bubble of light, but all he could discern was the dim dance of shadows. Suddenly, there was a deafening bang. The bubble burst, revealing the people inside it.
Hadjar didn’t recognize three of them. Judging by their uniforms, they were soldiers of Sankesh’s army. Exhausted, wounded, and bandaged up, they didn’t look like the brave warriors Hadjar had seen back at the camp in the Stone Trees oasis.
He recognized the old northerner. His once golden hair was now a rusty shade of blonde, and his skin had turned gray.
Arliksha, Sankesh’s daughter, looked the same: she had tattoos across her face, three purple spheres swirling around her, and a saber tucked into her belt.
Sunshine Sankesh stood in the center of his group. The powerful giant with bulging muscles was leaning on his giant halberd whose broad blade could give most axes a run for their money. It was an absolutely monstrous, frightening weapon.
“Serra,” Hadjar growled.
“Hadjar.” She said, smiling cheerfully. “Einen.”
Her calm, happy voice contrasted sharply with the girl’s appearance. Her whole body was covered in terrible bruises, bleeding cuts that the scraps of fabric that had replaced her clothes couldn’t hide, and numerous burns, some of which were already covered with a disgusting, yellow crust. Her hair was matted with sweat, sand, and blood. Her lips were broken and there was dried blood under her nose and ears.
“I’m sorry, Hadjar, I couldn’t stop them.”
Her tone was even, carefree, and cheerful, like she was a happy child who hadn’t been tortured by these maniacs for months.
“Sankesh!” Hadjar bellowed.
The energy around him turned from blue to black, and within it, black lightning bolts arced. Hadjar grabbed his blade and took a step forward just as Einen’s and Ramukhan’s hands landed on his shoulders simultaneously.
“It’s not time yet, barbarian.” The sorcerer whispered in his ear. “They did that on purpose. There was no reason to torture the Key. She would’ve brought them here anyway. It’s her mission.”
“The sorcerer is right, my friend,” Einen said. “They want to throw us off balance, make us act rashly.”
Einen’s hand gripped his shoulder tightly, indicating the islander’s own desire to fight. He’d never showed it, but Einen liked little Serra too.
“Are you really going to let these worms hold you back, Dragon?” Sankesh laughed.
He tossed his head back and roared in amusement. Even his throat looked mighty enough to break a common soldier’s blade.
“I pictured this place looking completely different. It’s so miserable.” Sunshine Sankesh looked around. There was contempt mixed with disappointment on his face. “What else can you expect from an extinct civilization, though? It was too weak to continue fighting for its life, after all.”
“We don’t want to fight you, King of the desert,” Ramukhan bowed. “We came here for knowledge, and you can take the rest-”
Sankesh held out his hand toward the sorcerer and squeezed. Ramukhan was torn from the floor. He clutched his own throat in agony. He clawed frantically at it, trying to breathe. Ramukhan’s staff clattered across the stone floor.
“I don’t need your permission, worm!” Sankesh snarled. “Everything under the sky belongs to the strongest. And that’s clearly not you.”
“Release him, Sankesh.” Hadjar didn’t unsheathe his sword, but there were already deep gouges in the floor around him.
“Do you want to save your master, Dragon?” Sankesh’s eyes blazed with animalistic fury. “You could’ve been part of the new world order. My order! But you chose to be a footrest for these pathetic parodies of mages instead!”
“I told you this already. I’m not a slave.”
For some time, they just stared at each other. Ramukhan stopped twitching. He turned blue, and then his eyes rolled back.
“Pathetic piece of shit.”
Sankesh opened his hand, and Ramukhan fell to the floor like a broken doll. Tilis and Karissa rushed over to him. Taking out some talismans, they hastily cast a variety of spells on the sorcerer’s body. After a few moments, Ramukhan grunted and woke up. There was a black burn or bruise on his neck, as if he’d been choked not by the power of someone’s will, but by a burning gauntlet.
“We... can... negotiate-”
Sankesh’s glance was enough to make the sorcerer close his mouth loudly and fall silent.
“I don’t negotiate with worms, wretch,” he said, turning back to Hadjar. “You know what I came here for, North Wind.”
Hadjar did know. Sunshine Sankesh needed the elixir of the gods. The damned maniac was going to ascend to the Seventh Heaven and reshape the world at his discretion, making it suitable for only the strongest to live in, with the weak forced to do nothing but cower and serve, if they even survived.
“We need to go, Hadjar,” Glen said. The Baliumian didn’t grab his sword, he even raised his hands. He radiated a willingness to surrender. “Look at that monster. He alone is enough to turn us into mincemeat. And by the gods, the gray-skinned old man isn’t much weaker than Sankesh. And then there’s his daughter. We simply can’t do anything to them…”
Hadjar understood what Glen was saying. Even if he were twice as strong, he wouldn’t be able to fight Sankesh as an equal. Still, there were things he simply could not back down from… One look at little Serra was enough to wake the dragon inside Hadjar.
“Leave, Sankesh.” Hadjar’s every word sounded like a blade being drawn from its scabbard. “If you want to become a god, do so with your own power. Otherwise, what’s the difference between you and... these worms you so despise?”
Sankesh squinted at him, then began to cackle again. His actions made the desperate madness in the depths of his soul plainly visible.
“Stupid dog. Do you think you can alter my path with mere words?”