Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story

by Kirill Klevanski

  “Bingo!” Ash grinned.

  “A lot of things still don’t make sense,” Lari said. “Why did you sleep with her? How did you even come up with this plan? And how the hell did you defeat a werewolf on your own? Wait... Is that why you didn’t eat with us?! You knew about the potion?!”

  “A mage never reveals his secrets!” he replied with a grin.

  The Stumps rolled their eyes. Mary slapped her forehead so hard that it left a mark. Ash just laughed. He hadn’t done that in quite some time... Not since the night that his entire Legion was killed.

  What the Stumps didn’t know was that somewhere in a castle at the foot of the Fire Mountain, a real monster was trashing about. Was it afraid that its trap didn’t work? Or was something else on its mind?

  Well, that’s a story for another time.

  Chapter 24

  14th Day of Zund, 322 A.D., Age of the Drunken Monk, Kingdom of Arabist

  M ary opened her eyes, glad to breathe in the fresh air of Arabist instead of the musty stench of Soles’s slums from which, if the king’s task was completed, she’d finally be able to move out. It was no secret that most Ternites lived off the coin they received from Ernite missions. It was ironic in a way.

  Sitting up, she put her hair into a tight bun and secured it with a hairpin. For a swordsman, there was no worse enemy than long hair and fluttering cloaks, both of which could easily be tugged on or obscure one’s view during a crucial dodge. She could’ve had it cut off, but she liked her locks too much to part with them.

  Despite everything, the morning in Arabist was wonderful. It wasn’t often that they had the chance to sleep in a cozy hayloft instead of leaky tents and bedrolls full of holes. Alice was sleeping curled up in her cloak. Blackbeard and Tul were napping back to back, weapons at the ready—a habit of experienced adventurers. Lari, lying at the entrance, was muttering something to himself in his sleep. However, looking around as she might, Mary couldn’t spot Ash. The last hour and a half were his watch, so he had to be nearby.

  “Mary,” Alice mumbled, “please, get off my hair...”

  “Sorry,” Mary whispered and got off the chestnut bush that would become lush curls once the little one was done combing them.

  Slowly but surely, the rest of the Stray Stumps woke up. Blackbeard cursed out of habit but was immediately drowned out by Tul’s monstrous yawn.

  “Where’s the troublemaker?” Mary frowned.

  The guys looked around but there was no one else there except the still-sleeping Lari. Unless, of course, we don’t take into account the pot-bellied cat perched on the support beams. Enjoying the morning sun, it lazily waved its ginger tail.

  “He’s asleep again,” Tul sighed, shaking his head as he looked at Lari.

  “I’m not,” the archer protested and jumped to his feet. Grimacing, he began to pull straws of hay from places where they should definitely not have been.

  Mary nodded, tightening her belt and adjusting the scabbard. “Guys, where’s Ash? I didn’t see him when I woke up.”

  At that moment, the sound of blows being exchanged sounded from the outside. The Stumps exchanged glances and, grabbing their weapons, flew out of the room, almost knocking the heavy doors off their equally heavy hinges. Mary’s saber flashed red, Alice’s wand glew with golden fire, Blackbeard’s shield flickered with waves of light that covered the squad, Tul drew two guns, and lightning flashed across Lari’s blades. They were ready to rescue the newest member of their squad by cutting and tearing through any monster that might’ve attacked him.

  “You moth―” Blackbeard muttered but was shut up by a bun shoved in his mouth.

  The Stumps lowered their weapons, watching as the ax split wood with rhythmical thuds. As if by magic, the firewood, cut into neat quarters, would then fly to the woodpile.

  Ash, naked to the waist, stopped to wipe the sweat off his forehead. One would think that the ladies would stop to admire the young man’s body but... there was nothing to admire. He was thin for his age, no manlier than any farmer working hard on the fields, but such was the price of magehood. One traded brute force for arcane knowledge.

  Ash, oblivious to the audience, kept chopping wood, dirtying his canvas trousers and hemp sandals even more. He hadn’t gotten a chance to change his wardrobe for years, so he kept patching up the only clothes he had. This, however, didn’t bother him as much as it seemed to bother others. Firewood kept flying into the air and soaring to the wall, forming a long, high row.

  All of this was happening so easily and naturally as if the mage had been doing it all his life. To most Ternites, these kinds of daily chores were useless work. The number one rule of all adventures was: “don’t make what you can buy, don’t buy what you can get, and don’t get that which you already have.”

  “Ash?”

  The guy turned and smiled at the bewildered group.

  “I’d say ‘good morning,’ but one can’t really tell if the morning’s good or not.”

  “It won’t be for you, that’s for sure,” Lari growled.

  Noticing his mood, Ash wiped his neck with a piece of cloth and put on his shirt. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have done it. Lari was in front of him in a heartbeat and holding him firmly by the neckline.

  “You—”

  Ash waving his hand in the direction of the old, sturdy hut shut him up. Turning his head, Lari saw an old woman whose description would fit that of her home.

  “Grandma Gerda!” Ash waved again, his shirt threatening to rip apart in Lari’s grip. “I’m done with the wood!”

  “Thank you, Ash!” the old woman replied, ignoring the fact that the young man was being held a couple of inches above the ground. “I’ll bring you the doughnuts.”

  Smiling, she disappeared into the house. Lari, now even angrier, began to shake the poor Ash who, thinking about doughnuts, was smiling blissfully and drooling.

  “You were given the simplest task!” the swordsman snarled, losing his temper. The two days they had spent in the cursed castle had taken its toll on him. “One task! And you failed it!”

  Huffing in annoyance, he threw the boy away. Landing onto the grass with a yelp, Ash rubbed the sore spot, looking with resent at Mary and Lari.

  “One task,” Mary repeated. “You have a brain in that skull of yours?”

  “What’s the problem?” Ash grunted. He didn’t seem to have any intention of getting up.

  “What’s the—? Are you—?” Lari stared at him in shock. “Have you lost your marbles?!” he roared. “You were given one simple task! One! Simple! Task! I kept watch for half of the night and you—”

  Before he could finish, Gerda appeared next to him holding a bundle wrapped in purple cloth. Despite being old, she stood with her back straight. Her gray, but still lush hair gave her a special charm, like some sort of a farm witch. You didn’t know whether you were going to be thrown into a soup or given soup.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing Ash the bundle.

  “Th—”

  “Don’t touch it!” Lari growled, waving his hand. The bundle fell to the ground, violet cloth waving mournfully in the wind.

  “What a pity...” Gerda sighed. “I’ll go get more.”

  “Doughnuts...” Ash sniffled and reached for the food.

  “Screw it!” Lari snapped. He looked like he was about to step on the doughnuts and finish them off, but Ash threw himself at the bundle and shielded it with his body. Clinging with one arm to Lari’s leg, he babbled about how wasteful throwing food was.

  “Let me go!” Lari hissed, shaking his leg.

  “Doughnuts!” Ash yelled in panic, holding the tip of Lari’s boot in a death grip.

  “Get off me!” the swordsman shouted, reaching for the knife.

  Mary, seeing that the situation was getting far too tense, gave both of them a smack on the head. Jerking back in retaliation, Lari kicked Ash, causing the young man to yelp in pain and finally let go. The face he pulled made Alice start giggling into her
sleeve and hands. Tul and Blackbeard exchanged glances, struggling to contain their grins.

  Ash, in the meantime, was frantically picking up the fallen doughnuts. By the time Lari had glared at Mary, there wasn’t a single crumb left on the grass.

  “Ash, do you realize what you’ve done wrong?” Mary asked.

  The mage nodded vigorously. Mary was about to breathe out a sigh of relief when the old lady walked out of the house.

  “Thank you!” Ash exclaimed joyfully and sprung to his feet. Grinning from ear to ear, he took the bundle from her hands.

  “Think nothing of it, dear,” she smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’ve saved me from the cold. Bright skies and good roads to you, traveler.”

  “Thank you again!” Ash waved his hand as Gerda walked away back into the house.

  Lari was shaking with anger. He had not forgiven him for putting the entire squad in danger. Most importantly, he’d never forgive him for endangering that which was dearest to him—Alice. He didn’t dare imagine what would happen if she died and he never got to pet her chestnut curls or see her warm smile again.

  “That’s why you left your post?” Mary asked, arching her eyebrows. She couldn’t believe that it was possible for someone to be so irresponsible. “Because of doughnuts?”

  “Of course not!” Ash protested. Mary’s eyes lit up with hope. “Lodging isn’t free, I had to repay old Gerda somehow. So I decided to help her and chop up some firewood.”

  The flicker of hope faded away as soon as it lit up. Mary wanted to go back in time and give herself a good trashing. The only reason they forced themselves to put up with this idiot was because they were desperate.

  “We paid for the night!”

  “Yeah, with coin.” Ash shrugged. “What good is that to an old woman?”

  “That’s not our problem!” Lari butted in. “You risked your squad’s life for the sake of some... some... Ernite!”

  Silence fell on the clearing. Lari, realizing what he had just said, turned pale and began to look around, hoping that no one had heard him. Unfortunately, people did hear and were now looking at him with reproach. Even Alice, the sweet and kind Alice, furrowed her brows and pressed her lips into a thin line.

  “How do you know that you’re not an Ernite?” Ash asked, looking somewhat thoughtful.

  “I... I...”

  “Can you feel? Do you yearn? Dream? Love? Hate? I don’t want to upset you, but the Ernites do the same. As well as all those that have a heart.”

  “I know that I’m a Ternite!” Lari flared up.

  “Perhaps you’ve been lied to. Perhaps everything around you is just an illusion of a skilled heretic. How’re you different from an Ernite then?”

  Lari wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Turning pale, he pulled a knife from his belt and ran the blade across his palm. His blood, like that of any Ternite, flickered slightly.

  “What are you doing?!” Alice exclaimed in fright and rushed toward him.

  But just as she was about to use her strongest healing Words, Lari moved away. He didn’t just take a step toward Ash but just about flew over to him and slapped him in the face so hard that the latter fell to the ground again, spitting blood. Lari would’ve hit him again had Tul and Blackbeard not held him back.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Mary yelled, almost breathing fire, as she switched her gaze between Lari and Ash. For the first time since their meeting, the argument became violent. “You’ll both pay a fee from your own coin purses and add it to the squad fund.” Her eyes ablaze, she turned to Lari. “What the hell, man?”

  “I,” Lari mumbled. “I don’t know...”

  Mary rolled her eyes and sighed wearily. How could an experienced swordsman like him allow himself to fall for tricks and taunts of a childish mage? That one was a mystery for the archivists of the Royal Library.

  “Guys,” Tul called. He was standing at the edge of the clearing and waving his hand. Each time he’d try to take a step forward, he’d encounter a thin barrier woven from fiery threads. The flames seemed to be preventing him from leaving the area. “Are we trapped again?”

  Blackbeard cleared his throat. “If I’m not mistaken, this is the Circle of the Elements.” He looked at Ash who was wiping blood off his busted lip. “Can you make Circles?”

  “Huh?” the young wizard asked after a while, having not realized that the shield-bearer was addressing him. “I can... I learned about it... I think I can, yes.”

  Mary’s hand greeted her face with a loud smack for the second time that morning. This man would take her to her grave faster than any monster.

  Circle of the Elements was one of the most complicated spells known to the Archivists. It allowed the Ternites that served the king to protect an area without having to keep watch as no one could enter or leave it for a good couple of hours.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked although she already knew the answer.

  “Um... I forgot...” Ash shrugged.

  Counting to ten and muttering a calming mantra to herself, Mary shot him a glare.

  “You two will shake hands and apologize to one another,” she almost growled. “You’ll also put a part of your reward into the squad fund and we’ll forget that this incident ever happened. Is that clear?”

  Ash sprang to his feet and held out his hand with a careless smile. Lari frowned, switching his gaze between him and Mary. He still looked ready to fight and clearly wasn’t up to forgetting or forgiving anything.

  “Lari,” Mary warned.

  Looking at the rest of the squad, he saw Alice’s frown and felt his heart sink. Sighing, he turned back to Ash and shook his head. The mage, still smiling, returned the handshake. Grimacing, Lari yanked out his hand from his, turned on his heel, and walked away.

  “Saddle the horses,” Mary ordered. Ash shuddered and turned pale. “We’re going to Zadastra.”

  Ash felt all the blood drain from his face. Shuddering, he turned around and went to the stables, her words ringing in his mind.

  “We’re going to Zadastra.”

  Chapter 25

  8th of Amir, 311 A.D., Middle Kingdom, Mystria

  T he sound of thundering drums made the frightened mothers hide their children behind their backs and men grab anything that could serve them as a weapon. Here, in the heart of the Middle Kingdom, one could no longer hear the echoes of war — the soldiers of Arabista had circled the capital, trying to postpone the moment when a white flag would flutter above the royal palace. The war’s end wasn’t far off, and the people of Mystria were relaxed. However, today they were reminded of all the horrors that His Majesty’s legions had done.

  The army that had become the nightmare of the five surrounding states and the terrifying reality of the other seven was approaching the gates. Two thousand mounted knights in scarlet armor could be seen drawing nearer. Their plates weren’t made from a special metal, no, but dyed crimson by the blood of their enemies.

  It took the general and the lieutenant seven days and nights to enchant each armor and piece of weapon with a Word that’d prevent it from rusting. Since they had nothing to clean their gear with, their army had been nicknamed the “Foul Legion” as they carried with them the stench of death and rot. Crows and vultures followed them on their travels, forever circling over the banners decorated with the heads of the legion’s enemies.

  The knights rode up to the gate, raising clouds of dust. Children wept, women screamed in fright when they saw body parts tied to the saddles, and men turned pale as they felt their hearts skip a beat. The legion looked more like an army of demons than of humans. Rumors spread throughout the kingdom that it had never suffered defeat.

  At the head of the army were the two men feared by every mortal in the neighboring states. The so-called “Nameless” baronet, the only one who wore a black cloak instead of a scarlet one, which in the ballads became a piece of cloth cut from the essence of darkness itself. Behind him was his lieutenant, Racker. />
  In his hand was a staff, the top of which was fitted with a spear tip glowing with runic script. To his saddle were tied the heads of generals, who had never seen the ambassadors arrive to discuss the terms of the ransom; and he was clad in full Dragon armor (rumors also said it that he was the first to slay these magnificent beasts) that glimmered a deep red. Peeking under the steel helmet adorned with horns was long, black hair tied with red ribbons that matched his red, tattered cloak.

  It wasn’t surprising that Racker was much more feared than Ash. One could negotiate with the latter, but the former was ruthless. He didn’t know reason, only blood and gore, like a proper beast.

  At the gate, a platoon of guards greeted the general according to the custom but without any respect in their eyes. The young mage gave them a slight nod and turned to his men.

  “Ergaben,” he called a muscular, tall man with an ax to step forward. He was so heavy and large that he rode not a horse, but an ox. Only it could stand three hundred pounds of muscle encased in fifty pounds of steel. “You’re in charge.”

  The giant nodded and turned to face the army, barking orders and snarling through his visor shaped like a bear’s muzzle.

  “Will you open it?” Racker smiled maliciously, lifting his visor. “Or should I help?”

  The startled guardsman gave the signal to the lookout on the tower. Four blows of the horn were followed by the rattling of the gates and creaking of unoiled iron. The heavy gates groaned as they opened a way to the Kingdom’s capital.

  Ash spurred his horse into what he could call his hometown. Racker, winking at the trembling guards, followed, casting murderous glances at everyone. He was the only one who could be trusted with having Ash’s back. The two fire mages were the deadliest combination in the entire Kingdom. They didn’t count, but they were certain that they had saved each other’s lives countless times.

  The two were riding down the Central Avenue, observing people as they hurried back home. Tables set by various vendors and taverns had disappeared from the street. Windows were closed, doors barred, and shutters slammed shut. Those who remained on the street rested their trembling hands on the hilts of their weapons. Fear had filled every nook and cranny of the glorious city of Mystral. Even the ever-present scent of coffee and flowers had disappeared from the air, giving way to the stench of blood and rot.