Chương 1446: [1355] – Y06.255 – The Peak V

The sand basked the figure in golden light as she followed the road forward, a hardy goat at her side, which carried much of her gear, and most importantly, water. Thankfully, she was still walking along the road that was near the hills of Central Aswadasad, so she did not need to worry much, but it was always good to be prepared, and there were still villages nearby, not that she wanted to settle herself among them, considering their history of treating those who looked like her.

As she approached the small outpost, the sand shifting lightly under the gentle wind, she noted the figure, whose back faced her as he sat casually upon the half wall, his cape gently billowing behind him. He was adorned in full plate, like herself, his cloak a dark grey, lined with a much lighter grey, almost silver. She could not see it from her point of view, but at his side, there was certainly a blade.

"You were easier to find than I expected," the man admitted.

"Thank you," the woman replied, undoing her visor, trying to catch greater details to see if she had met him before. It wasn't like she had met everyone from the Order, but she had met quite a few upon her travels, though his voice seemed very different to those she had met. The figure shifted slightly, turning to face the woman, reaching up to remove his helmet to reveal a handsome face, the kind that was born handsome, and the look within his eyes, the smirk upon his face, revealed just who he may have been.

Locks of curly hair fell behind his ears, his dark hair almost silky, his dark skin not quite as dark as midnight, but more so the darker kafa some of the villagers enjoyed, while his eyes were a piercing grey.

"I am Taher, son of Jalima the Beautiful."

"Sword of the Second Dawn," Gangak confirmed, bowing her head lightly, the woman taking off her helmet to reveal her pretty face, her horns, as well as the tattoo, a red x, with yellow tilted kites that flanked the cross on either side.

"It is an honour. My name is Gangak."

"Yes," Taher said, smiling wide towards her, revealing his beautiful white teeth, his cape billowing under the heavier breeze for a moment.

"I have heard of you, Gangak. They call you Flame Brand. A red skinned Iyrman, one who, when she draws her blade, blood is spilled."

"Yes," Gangak replied simply, her eyes falling upon the handsome fellow, wondering if she should have accepted Afraz's offer to accompany her towards the Order.

"I have come to stop you," Taher finally admitted, smiling politely.

"You may try," Gangak replied curtly.

"You do not wish to know why?"

"We of the Gaks have never asked the Aldish why, and we of the Gaks will not ask the Aswadi why," Gangak replied, as though this was simply how the world worked.

"Your presence, dear Flame Brand, is causing us great trouble," Taher said, finally hopping onto his feet, clasping his hands together, cracking his knuckles.

"It is difficult enough for Aswadasad to keep the various tribes in check, but at a time like this, after the rumblings of the devilkin, we cannot allow one whose skin is so red, whose horns are so sharp, to inspire hope."

"Do not allow Life's Rose to hear you are afraid of hope," the woman joked, patting her goat lightly, before tying him to the pole. Taher smiled wide, before stepping out, heading out of the outpost a short way, before turning upon his heel. He donned his helmet and drew his blade, that which was slightly longer than a typical blade, made of obsidicule, freshly forged.

"I will allow you the first strike." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Thank you," Gangak replied, drawing her beautiful blade, which she had gained from defeating one of her many opponents. It was a blade made of red, like that of the Blood Blade or the Crimson Blade, but this blade was new, the Sanguine Sword of Saifa, a woman whose name would go down in history because Gangak had asked her name before killing her.

It was this blade which would write the woman's name into the history books, and finally, after all these centuries, break the curse of the Gaks, even if it meant slaying the handsome Taher, son of the Second Sword of the Dawn, for none could be considered the first.

"She was a difficult fight," Taher admitted, opening his eyes, as though waking up from a dream.

"It was the greatest fight I ever fought. At first, I wished to incapacitate her, but the moment our blades met, ting, I realised…"

"Just how amazing my grandmother was?" Adam asked, raising his brow.

"We were too close in skill," Taher said, recalling the fight, the blows of explosive power she had managed to receive, and the burst of swordplay which he could barely handle.

"I was unable to hold back, not against her." Adam's lips formed a small smile.

'That's my grandmother.'

"I fought as I was taught. My blade was a blade that was for war, in glory of the Lady. I had trained my entire life with such a thought. Yet, that woman that I faced, her blade too, was one of war, which spilled blood, for death, in the most efficient way possible." Taher continued to look to the past, to another time, a memory, a dream, a nightmare.

"I only survived due to fortune. My leg, crippled. My fingers, missing. That day, I was so brutally defeated. I managed to wound her too, though I did not cripple her in the same way." Adam's smile faded, the half elf inhaling deeply, but what could he do? It was his grandmother who he tried to defeat, for the sake of politics, and it was his grandmother who…

"It wasn't long. Many heard she defeated me, that she had crippled me, the hope of Black Mountain. It was a great loss for Black Mountain, yes, but at that time, due to the situation with the devilkin, the Orders forced her into exile."

"I heard," Adam replied.

"The Orders assisted in killing a blue dragon and, in exchange, they had her leave until the start of the millennium." The old man nodded, smiling slightly, for though he had lost against her, the Orders had claimed victory over the Iyr that year, for they did not step forward.

"It was a shame it was such an awkward time for her rise. I hope she is well."

"She is," the half elf replied, swallowing his annoyance.

"She's much better now that her greatchildren are so healthy, so troublesome, and that her grandniece, Taygak here, is going to soar into the heavens. It is Taygak who will rise this time."

"It is difficult to do so in Aswadasad, even for those who do not hold the name Gak, even when there is little trouble with the devilkin."

"No matter where she chooses to fight, she'll succeed, this Taygak of ours," Adam stated firmly, holding the old man's gaze.

"Will you make certain of it?"

"I will."

"Will she allow you to do so?"

"Of course," Adam replied, smiling shamelessly.

"I am Flame Brand's grandson, after all."

"There are many who would not wish to see it."

"I'm sure."

"Do not say I did not warn you." Adam could feel the heat rush through him, the half elf flexing slightly, growing slightly more annoyed with each passing moment.

"I just need to be so strong that even all the Orders joining together will be unable to force her away." Taher coughed, almost falling into a fit of laughter, though he managed to will it away.

"Yes. Just that strong."

"No, I don't need to be that strong," the half elf said, chuckling opposite the old man.

"I just need friends who will help me." Taher bowed his head, for if Gangak had brought her own companions, perhaps she would have been able to rise even higher than she had, to become a household name, like that of Marmak.

"I have quite a few already," Adam mused, glancing aside towards Bael, thinking of Lord Morkarai too.

"So I'm sure it won't be too difficult."

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Taher said, fairly certain the half elf couldn't deal with such a scene. Adam thought about his words. He was fairly certain he would need more luck to deal with such a situation, but it was still a few years away.

'I can't do it, not right now, but if they do threaten Taygak, then…' Samra reached up to her forehead, rubbing it gently, leaning in towards Dunes.

"Should he speak such words so brazenly?"

"There is a saying in the Iyr," Dunes said.

"Adam is Adam." Samra leaned back, letting out a soft sigh. She understood the words immediately, they did not need to be explained, for certainly, Adam was Adam.