“The Forest of Shadows,” she said, “is considered one of the most dangerous places on the mainland. Many of the vilest creatures known to the archivists dwell here, but even they’re not as dangerous as illusions are. Don’t trust your eyes in the woods. A root can turn out to be a fang of some beast, from the bite of which your skin will start to rot. A stump can turn out to be a poisonous shefleng, whose saliva leaves you paralyzed for a couple of hours. And that’s just to name a few, don’t make me start on the other, even worse monstrosities that live here.”
“I’ll keep my eyes wide open!” Ash said.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Mary sighed, ignoring him, “and get through without a fight. Otherwise, we’ll be forced to fight to the death every step we make.”
Ash nodded and pretended to take a couple of notes by scribbling with his finger on his palm. A week ago, Mary would’ve lost her temper, but she had long stopped caring. Every adventurer had their quirks, Ash’s was feigned childishness. She had no doubt that he was putting on an act, but she didn’t care why he was doing it. She was an adventurer, not a judge.
“Alice, keep an eye on him,” she said, nodding toward Ash, who was “reading” his notes and seemed to be working on fixing spelling errors in them.
Alice snorted and covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh. Ash smiled broadly at her and offered to read the notes out loud. She couldn’t help but laugh. Lari shot them a glare. He didn’t like the fact that she was getting so close to someone as suspicious and unpredictable as Ash.
“We look like jesters, not a troop,” she thought, consulting Tul’s map. “All right, people, let’s move out.”
Following their leader, the Stumps entered the shadow of the cursed forest. According to an ancient legend, a long, long time ago, the most beautiful girl the world had ever seen was born here. There wasn’t a single poem in which her appearance would be described the same as in the ballads already composed.
However, all the bards and minstrels agreed that her smile alone could make the rivers flow backward, cherry trees bloom in winter, and the sun rise in the west.
As all love songs would have it, this beautiful girl fell in love with a simple potter. The boy, they said, wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed nor the handsomest lad in the land, but the way he played the flute could make the sky itself cry or smile.
It was love at first sight and a life full of happiness. They were even expecting a child. But, no love tale would be a love tale without some tragedy.
On one not very beautiful day, the God of war and patron of blacksmiths, Raigo, was in a hurry from a battle to the heavenly halls. He rode on his war ram, whose hooves were of pure flame and whose horns sparkled with lightning.
He leaped across the seas and oceans, raced across the rivers and lakes, until he met a lady whose beauty was sung about in a thousand and two ballads. Raigo fell in love with her at first sight and offered her to go with him to the halls, where the Supreme Lord, the Jasper Emperor, would make her his daughter and grant her immortality.
The girl laughed. The sound of her voice made the flowers around her bloom and the hardened warrior blush like a scorned child. She told him that she loved the potter and that she didn’t need anyone else. Her reply made Raigo furious and he killed the young woman in a fit of blind rage. Afraid of what he had done, the God ran away, and the potter, finding his beloved dead, could do nothing but grieve.
For ten days and ten nights, he played the flute, and for ten days and nights, the heavens wept black tears, drowning the forest below. From the rotten, tear-soaked soil rose what is now called The Forest of Shadows. No one knew what happened to the potter. Every bard came up with a different fate. Some said that he went to Heaven to take revenge, others that he had gone to the Abyss to find and bring back the soul of his beloved.
“That’s a nice, but sad story,” Alice said to Ash.
“Keep it down you, two,” Tul said, ducking under another branch. He was in the lead as he knew how to navigate the forest and find the hidden paths. He wasn’t afraid of the purple grass or the giant trees that loomed over them like weeping giants.
The trunks creaked and the crowns swayed, their rustling instilling fear in the soul of passersby. Every couple of steps, Alice lifted her head to look up. Because of the dense foliage, it seemed as if the sky itself was shrouded in darkness, through which only the faint light of Myristal shone occasionally.
The little girl wrapped her cloak around her and adjusted the crystal amulet. Ash could feel her fear, but he couldn’t protect her. He knew more about the forest than any of the Stumps. During his travels, he had heard many a legend of cursed places. Most of them were a hunter’s tale, but there were some that were true. Even the famous guilds avoided this cursed forest for a reason.
The group moved slowly, carefully choosing their path. Birds that looked more like bats saw only a string of light from their perches, wandering somewhere toward the depths of the abyss. The flickering torches brought the shadows to life, confusing the eyes and senses of even the most skillful of adventurers. Roots became dangerous snakes, branches – hands of mighty beasts, any hole was a gaping maw, and tree a giant, famous for their love of human flesh.
“Don’t worry, Alice.” Hearing someone whisper in her ear made the young girl jump in surprise and clutch her wand until her fingers hurt. “Don’t worry. They’ll protect you.”
Turning around, she stared in surprise at Ash, wondering why he wasn’t as pale as the rest of them, why he kept smiling even though he knew that his rags wouldn’t protect him even from the thorn bushes.
Contrary to all logic and common sense, Ash walked calmly behind all of them with a hop in his step and a smile on his face. He didn’t seem to care that he was the last in line, which was the most dangerous position to be in at the moment.
“Don’t worry,” he repeated.
“Stupid,” Alice mumbled and turned away. “Of course he isn’t afraid, he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. He’s just stupid.”
She walked on, feeling her fear begin to recede for some unknown reason. Breathing became easier and she no longer felt like some dangerous beast lurked in every bush.
Ash, noticing how her shoulders relaxed, nodded contentedly. He didn’t give a damn about Kessa’s words or the Master’s advice, or even if the God of all Gods came down from the Heavens and ordered him to do something. He’d just flip him off and tell him to shove it.
All he knew was that he had to help save a little girl who was suffering from a terrible fever. For her sake, he was willing to do more than oppose the Order, whose power was comparable to the combined strength of the armies of the five kingdoms.
He walked calmly along the path, his footsteps accompanied by the blows of his staff hitting the ground. Every creature that lurked among the playful, mischievous shadows remained in its place, trembling with overwhelming terror, bound by fear of Hu-Ching’s disciple, called the Blue Flame. They were more afraid that the dragon’s disciple had not only escaped his domain, but had also taken his master’s head with him.
A few hours later, the forest was colored a shimmering green. Come night, the ancient spirits woke up and began to wonder the forest, looking like what in the songs was often described as lost fireflies. Green spheres danced around the Stumps, beckoning them to follow them into the darkness of the forest.
Unable to resist, Alice reached for one, but Mary caught her hand.
“Don’t touch them,” she whispered sternly. “It’s the morguls playing. Fireflies are just a legend. You touch these and you’re lost to us.”
The girl nodded, hiding her cold hand in the pocket of her robe. Morguls were terrible creatures, similar to angler fish that lived in the deepest parts of the sea. But unlike their toothy water cousins, morguls had four legs, seventeen eyes that never blinked or closed, and a great thirst for blood. Had she overcome her fear for just a moment and looked back, she’d see Ash listening attentively to the lights resting
on his shoulder. The green sphere, which had acquired several appendages, looked like a pot-bellied man telling a story to an old friend. The forest fairies couldn’t abandon their “lost brother” (as they called the forest). They couldn’t leave that which had long since died, trapped by the blackest kind of magic.
“He’s here,” the fairy whispered, tugging on the boy’s scarf. “The great horror is at hand! Helmer is on your trail!”
The light blinked and faded away, mingling with the others. Ash removed the staff from his ear as he felt his heart skip a beat.
Chapter 34
27th day of the month of Tamir, 318. A.D., Kingdom of Arabist, somewhere in the forest
H undreds of fires turned the dark evening into a summer twilight. Myristal shone brightly in the night sky, rivaling in its brilliance with Irmaril. Among the trees and the gray, mended tents, one could hear fervent laughter, the quivering strings of cheap lutes, the beating of old, thinned-out drums, shouts, hums, clinking of metal, and the splashing of cheap booze.
The Seventh Legion was celebrating its last night under the same banner. Tomorrow, the general and the lieutenant would go to the capital for orders, and the soldiers, having received a good pension, would retire and finally return to normal life. The invincible army, of which only one thousand one hundred and thirty-seven men remained, although disbanded, would forever be remembered.
Ash, sitting by the fire with the rest of the officers, rubbed his chest. Something had been stirring there for a while, something he didn’t understand. A smile stretched his lips. Never before had he heard such genuine and merry laughter. In honor of their service, each prisoner was released, given one gold coin, and a skin of water. He didn’t understand why he had decided to do that, but everyone supported him, so he didn’t think about it twice.
“So, Vaha…” Racker nudged one of the officers, a tall, young man with a lot of scars on his face. A former thief, now the captain of a group of hundred. “What are your plans for the future?”
“Well,” the young man muttered, looking at the fire, “I was thinking of opening a tavern somewhere near the Seven Seas. Smugglers always need safe houses, so I thought…”
The officers burst out laughing. Vaha had always had a keen eye for business. He’d be able to sell sand to a nomad if he so wished.
“I thought about going north,” Ergbek joined the conversation, clutching his huge ax. “Nords will begin their campaigns soon. I’ll go to them as a mercenary. My guys are also thinking about it.”
“A band of mercenaries, huh?” Racker asked. He took a bite of his rabbit and washed it down with some booze.
“It’s an idea.” Ergbek nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep a spot open for you, lieutenant. If you ever go north…”
“Nah! Too cold for me!” Racker laughed. “And I’ve heard that Northern women have thicker beards than their husbands and sons.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, lieutenant!” Raylan and his group of archers laughed. “You’re thinking of dwarves! The Northern women, ah… Waists as wide as your arm, skin as white as the first snow, cheeks red as the dawn, and―”
“―and hands so skilled in combat that they’d wipe the floor with you before you could even begin to court them!” sneered Skosi, the cavalry leader. He was a young lad, even younger than the general himself.
“So, what are your plans?” Vaha asked, narrowing his eyes.
Skosi hesitated to answer at first, but then he shrugged off his shyness.
“I’ll get married and raise horses.”
There was a moment of silence and then the crowd roared with laughter. It was both difficult and funny to imagine someone like him getting married. No woman in the thirteen kingdoms would marry such a thug and a marauder.
“And you, general?” Erbgek asked. “What are your plans?”
Ash looked up from the dancing flames. What did he want to do? He didn’t know. Ultimately, he’d do what the king told him to do. All he could do was hope that Garangan wouldn’t tell him to continue studying. By the Gods, he hated studying.
“I…”
“The general,” Racker interrupted, “will busy himself with exploring the deepest depths of magic, in order to one day steal the Archmage’s cap.”
Ash rolled his eyes and the officers laughed. By now, everyone probably knew how much he hated anything related to studying or training.
The fun continued until late at night, but after Myristal began to lean toward the west, there wasn’t a single person left in the camp that could stand on their feet without leaning against a tree or a friend.
Ash, hardened by drinking strong rum, looked suspiciously at the translucent liquid in his mug. In his opinion, the booze was far too watery and weak, so why he was so dizzy? Why did his eyelids feel like steel curtains and why was there a fog enveloping everything?
He tried to get up but instead fell face-first to the ground. The last thing he saw was Racker smirking, swinging an empty vial in his hand. Ash glanced at the empty barrels and instantly understood – they had been given a sleeping potion.
***
Ash awoke abruptly. His eyes shot wide open and his hand immediately reached for the staff, but found nothing except cold air. The king’s gift hadn’t been able to survive the siege of Zadastra, leaving its master defenseless.
“What the hell is this?” he croaked.
During his slumber, the forest had been turned into a nightmare, created by the imagination of a frightened boy huddled at the hem of his mother’s skirt. A bloody bacchanalia, an orgy of mad demons – those were just some of the comparisons that surfaced in his mind.
He was sitting in the midst of a forest fire, watching monsters battle one another. Half-human, half-wolf, they fought each other as if instead of reason they had only madness left. They gnawed at their opponents, falling under claws and fangs themselves. The grass was red with blood. Guts hung from the branches. The flames hissed, licking wounded heads and arms.
A terrible growl rang out.
Ash jumped to his feet, shivering like a leaf in the wind, and tried to tame the flames, but in vain. The element didn’t want to obey the weak mage, whose hands were shaking as if he was suffering from a deadly fever.
Another roar came, closer and louder than before. Ash raised his head and came face to face with a giant beast. Its muscles were visible even under the thick fur, and its fangs were the length of daggers. He didn’t dare look lower to see just how big its claws were. For the first time in his life, the young mage understood what fear was. The knowledge came suddenly, together with the sweat that wetted his back and vomit that clamped down on his throat.
His heart skipped a beat as the beast snarled and charged, dashing across the blood-soaked ground. He was so confused and scared that he couldn’t even close his eyes to at least spare himself of looking death in the eyes. He stood and watched the black shadow rush toward him like a lead bullet fired from a musket. Another beat skipped, but he didn’t feel the blade-like claws ripping through his chest and stomach.
The monster landed behind him and began to tear at another creature. Ash turned around in disbelief. The fangs, the claws, the maddened eyes… The beast was no beast, but Ergbek.
Even more confused, Ash looked around the battlefield, realizing that it wasn’t werewolves that were fighting around him, but his men.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Someone chuckled behind him.
Ash immediately recognized the voice. He didn’t even need to turn around. A terrible pain shot through his chest and red droplets appeared on the grass. He fell to his knees, coughing as the blade tore through his lung.
A shadow loomed over him. Racker looked down at his general, feeling only disgust. He had once considered him a worthy leader, someone who didn’t suffer from foolish notions such as “honor” and “morals.” He had led the Legion into the craziest of battles, allowing them to fulfill their wildest fantasies, but all of that had changed.
He had begun t
o feel the general’s cold heart grow soft. He saved the foal, didn’t allow the captive children to be burned, forbade them to level Zadastra with the ground, and then he dismissed the Legion, giving them all a gold each! But all these were trifles in comparison to his biggest transgression.
A fire-wielding wizard could become a force to be reckoned with if they used the Dragon’s Essence. Ash could’ve surpassed the legendary First Master, he could’ve risen above the kings, outshone the epic heroes, could’ve been compared to the Gods themselves! But what did the fool do? He locked the Essence in a chest, determined to blindly follow the king’s orders to the letter!
If Ash was too much of a coward to defy the king, then he, Lieutenant Racker, would be more than happy to get that task off his hands.
Grimacing, he turned Ash’s body over with the toe of his boot. Blood was trickling from his chest. All he needed to do was pull out the dagger and let the mage choke on his own blood and vomit.
“I see you’re not surprised,” he commented, looking at the young man.
Ash was silent but there was something elusive in his eyes. He couldn’t tell which hurt more – the steel in his chest, or the metaphorical knife in his back. He realized that he couldn’t escape death and made peace with the fact that his days were numbered. He had served the king faithfully, following orders to the very end, as he had been taught by his mentors. He had followed all the principles of the religion of the thirteen kingdoms that the high priest had hammed into his head. As per the king’s orders, he had led his men into terrible battles. He knew by heart all the Words that Arthur had explained to him.
As the steel sunk deeper into his chest, Ash began to understand things that he hadn’t realized before. He was suddenly aware of the fact that his entire life had been led and dictated by other people. He finally realized the meaning of the word “to want” – he wanted to live, to live as he pleased!
A ball of fire shot up into the air. Racker, roaring like a wounded beast, tried to put out the flame that had caught his hair and beard. When he finally managed to subdue it, Ash was gone. All Racker saw was a shadow fading away among the burning trees.
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 19