Hadjar looked at Einen. The islander was hovering around Shakh, pouring something into his mouth and rubbing his chest, which was covered in black spots of frostbite.
“I’m glad that he proved you wrong.”
“Yep.” Tilis’ smile was lifeless and forced, but it was better than her threats and insults. “I’ll ask Karissa why one of her men was Sankesh’s spy later.”
“You can ask her,” Hadjar agreed, “if you really care.”
The conversation stalled. They both needed to say just a few words to each other, but... to practitioners and cultivators, their own integrity often became one of the pillars of their life. Oftentimes, this would be replaced by another, simpler, and at the same time, more dangerous one — pride. Many of them, after confusing honor and integrity with pride, were ready to give up their lives if need be, but would never ‘bow their heads’.
“I want to-”
“I want to-”
They fell silent. Avoiding each other’s eyes, they stared at something in the void of their own thoughts.
Einen finished treating Shakh. He was about to approach his friend, but, after seeing the situation, decided to stay near the young man for a while.
“I guess I’ve always known.” Tilis spoke first.
In matters of feelings, women were almost always bolder than men.
“I’m sorry-”
“No,” Tilis interrupted him, shaking her fiery hair. “I knew it back when I saw you at the entrance to Underworld City. The amulet you brought with you… It couldn’t have been taken by force... and even if that had happened, the city guards would’ve received a signal, but... There was no signal.”
There was silence again.
Hadjar didn’t know what Tilis was thinking about. He was reliving the moment when Serra had smiled at him as she gave her life to take the Governor with her. The man who’d killed his brother and her husband. Hadjar hated himself for not saving her. He hated himself for not being able to save Serra. He hated himself for the fact that it had been Serra, and not him, who had sent the bastard who’d killed Nero to his forefathers. It gnawed at him every day.
“I didn’t kill her…”
“I know.”
“By the High Heavens, I am still to blame for her death!” Hadjar clenched his fists. “If only I’d been a little… Damn it!”
Tilis looked at the man in front of her. She’d hated him for so long that she could scarcely understand why. Probably because he had come back to her instead of her sister.
“Tell me about her,” Tilis asked suddenly, “tell me about my sister.”
And Hadjar did. It didn’t take long, only five minutes, no more. While he absorbed the energy of the world, reinforcing his Technique for Strengthening the Body, he talked about Serra: about how they’d first met, how they had fought together, about their many perilous adventures, how she’d loved his brother, how they had gotten married. How he’d ruined their wedding, which would remain with him forever as one of his deepest regrets. About her death. Had it been revenge? Or had she simply been unable to live without Nero? Maybe the attack that had pierced her heart had just been too much for her? Who knew…? Not he.
“You loved her.” Tilis wiped some drops of water from her cheeks. The ice on the ceiling must have started to melt…
Hadjar wanted to say something sincere and heartfelt, but... he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because sometimes it was harder to admit that you were lost than it was to help someone else find their way to the light. Besides, there was an obvious excuse he could use.
Karissa and Ramukhan had woken up.
“What happened to the Knight?” The sorcerer asked.
“He’s dead,” Einen answered.
A second later, Karissa and Ramukhan discovered that their weapons had lost their magic artifacts. They started shouting and arguing. The islander tried to reason with them. Tilis and Hadjar didn’t react. They continued to stare into the depths of their souls. Now they could both breathe more freely, a little, not much, but enough to feel a difference.
Chapter 412
“You look... so happy... as if we... won.”
Shakh lifted himself into a half-sitting position. He didn’t care that no one was happy. A moment before the young man had woken up, Einen had managed to calm Karissa and Ramukhan. They were still very angry at the loss of their magic artifacts.
As it turned out, each of the stones they’d used as explosives was worth at least sixty imperial coins. Sixty imperial coins! It was an incredible sum. There was no asset in the whole of Lidus, except perhaps the mine of Solar Ore, which could cost such a sum.
“Shakh’s right.” Ramukhan stopped complaining. “We’ve won the battle, but not the war.”
Hadjar looked at his companions.
Tilis, pale and staring off into the distance, couldn’t escape the labyrinth of her own soul. Even if she had a working magic staff and twice her usual amount of power, she still wouldn’t be able to fight. Her shock was too deep. Moreover, if she didn’t recover from it soon, she wouldn’t be able to cultivate anymore. She wouldn’t be able to help.
Without her magic book, Karissa could do nothing. Besides, they didn’t have enough elixirs and energy-restoring pills for her... So, she was also helpless.
And so was Ramukhan. Like the witches, the sorcerer was a pitiful sight without his magic artifact. There was no reason to spend alchemical drugs on them.
Only the practitioners remained.
Shakh had frostbite and severe wounds. Besides, one of his daggers had been damaged in the explosion. Even though the practitioners, unlike those who followed the ‘true path’, weren’t so dependent on their weapons, the young man had still lost about a third of his attack power. In the end, only Einen and Hadjar were capable of fighting. Everyone else was dead weight, more or less.
“It seems like we won’t win the war.” Karissa smiled sadly.
Hadjar rose to his feet, grunting and leaning on his sword. Staggering, he held onto a fragment of the column. The stone bit into his skin, leaving behind another cut. Einen looked at him with obvious disapproval. Apparently, the elixir which he had poured down his friend’s throat had cost him a lot.
“Baldy,” Hadjar nodded to his friend, “drink a quarter of the elixirs.”
“Why him?” Shakh asked resentfully.
The young man had lost all his friends and acquaintances. His uncle Rahaim, Kharad, Sular, Ilmena… They had all died. Shakh had never believed the two strangers.
“What are you up to, Hadjar?” Einen’s eyes narrowed. Despite that, the islander’s face remained impassive.
“Lead them out of here.” Hadjar picked up the bag of useless talismans and amulets.
He pulled out a handful of pills and, ignoring everyone’s outrage, put them in his mouth. The sensation was akin to the first time he’d been connected to the neural network in his previous life. He felt like electricity was surging through him.
Cold, alien energy poured into his reserves. Alchemical solutions were always very different from the natural process of absorbing power from the World River. That was why Hadjar resorted to using them only in the most extreme cases.
The body would, at best, digest a quarter of such energy. Hadjar had seen addicts that couldn’t live without the pills. It was much easier to take elixirs than to spend hours in deep meditation. However, this path led nowhere.