Dragon Heart. Land Of Magic. Litrpg Wuxia Saga. Book 6 - Volume 1 Chapter 3 424
“I guess this is goodbye.”
A few people were standing on the sand at the foot of the mountain. Tilis hugged Hadjar tightly, and he returned the hug. They stood like this for a few moments. When they parted, there was regret in their eyes, regret for the days, weeks, and months of friendship they’d missed out on.
“I want you to have this.” The witch handed Hadjar an ornament.
He took it carefully and wove it into his hair. Now three strings of beads hung down the right side of his hair: two from the Bedouin shaman, which protected him from evil spirits, and one, no less precious, from the young witch whose brother he might’ve been. He treasured the third string of beads even more than the first two.
“I’m glad to have met such fine warriors,” Karissa said, holding out her hand. “Live free.”
“Die well,” Hadjar and Einen responded.
Paris and Ramukhan just smiled and saluted them. Receiving a similar response from the friends, they turned and walked back. Einen and Hadjar hadn’t liked the sorcerer from the very beginning. As for Paris, after their journey to the library, the friends couldn’t help but feel like the head of the Research Chamber of Underworld City had somehow deceived them. Maybe he hadn’t, but the feeling refused to go away.
Only Shakh was left standing in front of the duo. Not so long ago, he had been a passionate boy, but now he looked like a grown man who’d been through a lot. His face was scarred, and there was determination in his eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Shakh stared at the two friends for a moment and then shook his head:
“I’ll go back to my hometown. I’ll tell my father how his brother died. I’ll tell Ilmena’s parents that she loved them.”
“And then?”
“Then…” Shakh exhaled. “I think Rahaim will agree to give me his caravan route. Or maybe I’ll just travel around the Sea of Sand. I’ll visit the Pearl and other cities.”
Shakh suddenly smiled and held out his hand:
“It was an honor to fight alongside you, Einen of the islands, and you, Hadjar of Lidus. However, this is my home, and this is where our paths diverge.”
Einen and Hadjar reciprocated the gesture and mounted their desert ravens. “May the Evening Stars illuminate your path, Shakh of the Sea of Sand.”
Without turning around, they spurred the beasts on and took off. Shakh watched them disappear, kicking up clouds of sand in their wake. Maybe he would go to the western border and begin his journey across the vast world one day, but not right now. He touched the scarlet ribbon around his wrist that Ilmena had once used to tie her hair, turned around, and followed Paris and the others.
***
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Hadjar nudged Einen.
The islander mumbled something unintelligible in response. They stood on the edge of a small oasis. It was so tiny that it looked like a freshwater pond. And yet, it was deep enough to water hundreds of red-painted elephants.
After a week of mad racing, they’d managed to catch up with a noble caravan. The fare, even by the standards of the Empire’s Borderlands, was horrific— two Imperial coins per person.
However, Hadjar had decided that Rahaim had to give them not just letters of recommendation (which had, in fact, turned out to be more or less useless to them), but also a huge amount of money — fifty Imperial coins. Each. So, Einen and Hadjar were now wealthy travelers. Considering that one of them had the Patriarch’s fortune stored in his spatial ring, it could even be said that they were very wealthy.
“Who are you?” A caravan guard asked, nocking his bow.
He was a stocky desert dweller wrapped in a white caftan and turban, and he radiated the energy of a practitioner close to becoming a true cultivator. Therefore, he was understandably a bit wary of two true cultivators suddenly coming up to his caravan.
“Travelers,” Hadjar answered. “We’d like to buy two passenger seats in your caravan.”
The guard chuckled derisively.
“You don’t look like you can afford a piece of my elephant’s dung, let alone a seat. Get out of here!”
Hadjar and Einen looked at each other, shrugged, and demonstrated that they had the necessary funds. The guard grumbled something and directed them to a person responsible for the sale of passenger seats. By nightfall, the formalities were settled and the friends had a private coach at their disposal. Unlike Rahaim’s caravan, it wasn’t drawn by desert mules. In fact, nothing pulled it at all. It rested on the back of a huge elephant.
***
A journey that might’ve taken at least two years in a simple caravan lasted only a month and a half. On the morning of the fortieth day, after descending from their coach, they found themselves on the border between the desert and the Eastern provinces of the Empire.
After thanking the caravan driver for taking care of them, they untied their desert ravens and rode toward the hills to the west. The sand was gradually replaced by dry ground. Small bushes started appearing, then tall bushes, and at some point, they found themselves in a coniferous forest.
When they entered the forest, Hadjar stopped his raven for a few minutes. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. The pleasure he experienced at that moment was difficult to describe in words. It was like hugging your loved ones after a long time apart.
They emerged from the undergrowth onto a broad plateau. There was a smooth, green valley below them. It was divided in half by a rapid, winding river. It lapped at the banks and turned a mill wheel. In the distance, the black smoke of a forge swirled. Numerous villages surrounded the cliff where an Imperial city stood, right on the border.
“By the High Heavens…”
“By the Great Turtle…”
The friends gasped with delight. The city was so huge that it could easily accommodate two capitals of Lidus. Its huge towers and massive walls were decorated with long, red flags. Instead of spires, stone statues of dragons spreading their wings rose into the air. Rows of carts loaded with a variety of goods crept slowly over a drawbridge. A huge number of people riding creatures of all stripes stood in a queue.
“F.u.c.k.i.n.g hell,” Einen said.
Since he very rarely cursed, Hadjar immediately followed the direction of his friend’s gaze. He was watching a black dot in the sky. As the dot grew larger, its outline became visible — it was a small sailing boat! Flying through the sky, the sailboat covered more than a mile every second! Soon, it left the two friends standing there, gaping, and disappeared behind the walls of the city.
“Now I know why Paris smiled when we told him about the hundred coins,” the islander grumbled. “I think, Hadjar, that we barely have enough to pay for the journey to Dahanatan.”
Hadjar swallowed and nodded a little stiffly. Paris had told them that their upcoming journey would be very simple and go by quickly, but that it’d be breathtaking. He’d promised that they would see things any mortal would have died to witness.
“Let’s keep going.” Hadjar spurred his desert raven onward.
They crossed the gorge and entered the city. The guards collected the toll, a quarter of a coin! For each of them! As they entered through a huge archway, they found themselves on an avenue so wide that it could comfortably fit six carriages side by side. The number of people of various nationalities and levels of cultivation was staggering.
Hadjar, who was looking for a port on the map Paris had given him, had figured that they would need to sail down a river. However, just half an hour ago, he’d learned that the Empire could truly surprise him. When they reached the pier, it did so once more. Apart from the oddity of a small sailing frigate floating on a dense c.u.mulus cloud that was moored to a pier, it really was a most ordinary port.
As they climbed the ladder, they asked a boatswain how much it would cost to travel to the capital.
“Sixteen coins,” he said, in between shouting something to the sailors. “Each.”
Cursing Paris and Rahaim, the friends climbed aboard. They didn’t have much of a choice. If they rode their desert ravens, it would take them about twenty-one years to reach the capital through all the lands of the Empire, provided that they didn’t make a single stop, of course.
During their flight, they had to help the sailors and servants defend from harpies, repel the attacks of sky pirates, survive two storms, one of which was created by a creature so powerful that the captain had to use an artifact at the Lord level to drive it away, survive a disease similar to scurvy, not to mention almost falling off the edge of the ship several times and other dangerous adventures.
By the third week, their new clothes had turned into tattered rags, the frigate was barely able to stay in the air, and at the end, it almost crashed into the beautiful emerald domes of Dahanatan.
The miserly captain refused to give even a small reward to the friends for their assistance. So, after wandering through the labyrinthine streets of the seemingly endless city, they finally found themselves in front of a huge gate.
