Land of Magic

2

The dragon’s heart had granted Hadjar his third rebirth. It had renewed his body and spirit. The countdown of his age had begun from scratch. A similar thing had happened to Einen. His inhuman, purple eyes had been a gift from a Rainbow Fish. He’d earned this honor by rescuing a tiny fish out of a fishing net. He’d ended up rescuing one of the ‘children’ of that Rainbow Fish. Beasts on the path of cultivation could also have regular offspring, but they did so very rarely. His new eyes allowed Einen to see through the shadows.

“I’ve already passed a similar test,” Hadjar said, recalling his examination when he’d joined the army of Lidus. “The artifact that was used there could only tell if a person was older or younger, but not their exact age.”

“With all due respect to your ancestors, Lidus is truly a barbarian kingdom. I’m sure the best School in Darnassus has a slightly better artifact,” the islander emphasized the word ‘slightly’ in a mocking manner.

Hadjar looked at his friend with a frown, but said nothing. He couldn’t argue with Einen. For all their harshness, the words were still true. Compared to the ‘Holy Sky’ School, Moon Lin’s Army had been nothing more than a beetle crawling along a branch.

“You know, I’m probably just tired,” Hadjar said, shaking his head. “When the opportunity to take the easy way out came, I-”

A slap to the side of his head silenced Hadjar.

“Hey!” He said indignantly.

Einen withdrew his hand. With the same unreadable expression still on his face, he continued to stare into the distance.

“When a fish is tired, it falls asleep and floats up to the surface of the water belly-first. It seems to me like it’s the same among cultivators. We are Heaven Soldiers now, my friend. If we stray too far, we’ll disappear into the World River. So, it’s not time to let your fatigue overcome you just yet.”

Hadjar once again didn’t argue with his friend. Einen was right. However, the realization didn’t make it any easier.

“So what’s your plan, baldy?”

“We’ll become ordinary disciples, and from there, we’ll gradually earn the titles of inner circle disciples, and if we’re lucky, we’ll then find personal Mentors.”

Hadjar rested his chin on his hand and mumbled dejectedly:

“By the High Heavens, it’ll be a long road.”

Einen said nothing.

“By the Evening Stars!” Hadjar snapped. “I’m not leaving here without those damned letters of recommendation! I’m also going to extort a decent amount of money from Rahaim!”

Hadjar jumped to his feet, turned around, and headed back to Underworld City. Einen continued to sit on the edge of the cliff. He was smiling slightly.

 

  

 “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.