“…Esh, don’t you need one?” she asked, feeling like someone had punched her in the gut.
The rules were that the loot had to be distributed among the team members first. Whatever was left would be sold to fill the common purse.
“I don’t,” the young mage replied and shook his head. “Mine’s better.”
Mary looked at his makeshift crooked staff with skepticism but said nothing. If he didn’t want it, he didn’t want it.
“So it’ll go to the coin purse!” she said excitedly, carefully wrapping the trophy in a cloth.
“Nothing out of the ordinary with the robes as far as I can tell… They’re self-made,” Lari said. “They’re odd looking though, but we ought to give them to the experts, the scrolls aren’t picking anything up… There’s also an amulet that allows you to get out of any part of the forest…”
“Tul?”
“Already got three.”
“For sale then,” Mary said, mentally rubbing her hands together as she calculated the profit. If the robes turn out to be something special, they could get more than fifty gold. “What else?”
“Some very strange rings.”
“Strange? What do you mean?”
“Look for yourself.”
Mary looked, rubbed her eyes, and then looked again. Two rings in the shape of snakes eating their tails had burned a big hole in the scroll. She had never seen that happen before. She reached for them but a staff blocked her way.
“Don’t,” Ash warned. Both his voice and face were unusually serious.
“Cursed?” Alice, who had finished healing Blackbeard, guessed.
“Not exactly.”
The Stumps looked up at him with a frown and were about to tell him that this wasn’t the time for jokes when they realized that the voice didn’t belong to him or anyone else from their team.
From the bushes emerged a Ternite, a berserker, and a leader of a bigger group. These scumbags were easily identified by their huge muscles and almost complete lack of armor, as well as their weapon of choice ― two axes. Behind him was an assassin, disappearing in the endless shadows, curved daggers glimmering with the most vile of poisons.
“What beauties,” the warlock behind him almost cooed.
In his hands, he clutched a silver sword. Something told Ash that this wasn’t another poser and fan of the popular Urga. The warlock, in particular his amulets and yellow eyes, gave off a sense of power.
The last member of the squad was a black-haired sorceress. In her hands, she held a carved staff with a blue crystal for a pommel. A very expensive trinket that greatly enhanced ice spells.
“Let us introduce ourselves,” the berserker said with a slight nod.
Mary nodded in return and was about to reply when Ash leaned forward. With his usual carefree familiarity, he approached the warlock and began to study his boots intently. For convenience, the young mage got down on all fours and started making notes in his imaginary notebook.
“By the way,” he asked, not taking his eyes off the shoes, “which one of you is Glich?”
“Uh…” The berserker scratched his head with the back of the ax.
The warlock pursed his lips in annoyance and tried to kick the idiot, but the said idiot disappeared, appearing next to the sorceress.
“Jasmine,” he drawled, inhaling the scent of her hair, the color of strong coffee.
The girl screamed and swung her staff. There was a woosh followed by the sound of branches snapping as Ash disappeared, appearing next to the assassin. The young mage pointed his finger at the dark elf, checking to see if he was a person or a statue someone had put on a tree and forgot about. The assassin didn’t react, but kept standing, wrapped in a cloak bearing the groups insignia – a crossed lute and a blade.
Ash disappeared again.
Feeling a tap on his shoulder, the berserker turned and saw Ash standing next to him on tiptoe. Giving him a smile, he then returned to the cart, winked at Alice, and leaned on his staff.
The berserker gave him a confused look.
“Don’t mind him.” Mary sighed wearily. “We’re the Wandering Stumps.”
From the faces of the strangers it was clear that they knew who they were talking to. After all, it wasn’t hard to recognize the insignia depicted on the cloaks, considering how many times it had appeared in the ballads.
“I know.” The berserker nodded.
“I take it you want the rings?”
“That’s right.”
Mary looked at her teammates and put her hand on the hilt of her sword. Something was off here. Blackbeard was breathing heavily, clenching his teeth every time he failed to hold up his shield. Lari would be recovering for a bit longer, and Alice had spent most of her energy on healing. Only Tul, Ash, and her were fit for combat at the moment. However, given the fact that the mage was trying to catch a butterfly at the moment, he was out of the question.
“Why do you need them?” Mary took a step back, hiding her feet behind a stump. Perhaps she could use it as a springboard for her jump.
“Why do you care?” the warlock spat, swinging his sword.
“Fred!” the berserker snarled and the warlock instantly disappeared. “I apologize, it’s been a long journey, we’re all tired and nervous.”
“I got it.”
“As for the rings… We need them for a mission. We’ve been sent here to help one of the mages from the Order, to collect the items that they have requested.”
“Is the pay good?”
The berserker shrugged.
“Will you give us the rings?”
“Give you? For nothing in return?” Mary snickered. “Well, good thing you ain’t a merchant, you wouldn’t last long.”
The berserker just smirked. At that moment, red lightning passed across the warlock’s silver blade. Icy needles erupted from the ground around the sorceress, and the assassin moved deeper into the shadows.
“You see, miss, we honor the Ternite laws. And one of them says that one shouldn’t buy what one can get on their own.”
“So you’re robbing us?” Marry hissed and drew her sword. “Heretics!”
“Hey, hey, no need for name calling. This is just, ah, a different approach to the business. You have what we need. Your team is in no shape to fight. Your defender can’t lift his shield, your swordsman is about to pass out from exhaustion, and your healer is out of juice.”
Mary couldn’t object. She and Tul together couldn’t possibly beat them.
“So, give me the rings,” the berserker said with a grin and nodded in the direction of their cart. “And everything else we might find to our fancy.”
“I have the letter of his Majesty on me,” Mary said. “If I go to any Council, several dozen knights will be on your trail.”
The berserker was first silent but then he burst out laughing.
“You leave us no choice then.” The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by the whistle of steel being drawn. “Kill them.”
In his opinion, the Stumps posed no danger right now, being in the shape they were in. He’d be bragging about this catch in all the taverns he visited for years to come. He’d make sure that everyone knew that the Songs of Glich weren’t ordinary criminals and that the three hundred gold promised for capturing them was an offensive sum.
The warlock was the first to rush into battle. Using a speed-boosting spell, he leaped at his target, momentarily turning into a blurry shadow. Instead of the clang of steel of whizzing of spells, there was a cry and a thud when he dove headfirst into a tree at full speed. The tree turned out to be stronger than him.
Mary, not paying attention to him, jumped at the berserker, pushing off the stump with great force. She hoped that she’d be able to finish him off quickly. Soaring a good seven feet above the ground, she swung her saber, activating one of her most powerful skills – Comet Fall.
The berserker raised his crossed axes above his head. Steel sang as it struck the enchanted metal. For a big man like
him, a blow like that shouldn’t have been too much of an issue, but his right shoulder suddenly ached, as if someone had lit a fire under his skin. He roared like a wounded bear and loosened the grip on his weapons in surprise. Droplets of blood flew into the air as Mary’s blade left a deep cut across his torso.
The sorceress had already finished casting her spell but instead of conjuring up an ice shield and giving the leader of their group time to attack, she dropped her staff to pull up her robes which began to suddenly fall off. The shield shattered into a shower of snowflakes.
“Bastards,” Blackbeard growled, covering Tul as he frantically fired arrow after arrow at the shadow that flickered among the leaves.
The assassin, having found a good angle for a throw, reached behind his back but found nothing – his pouch was empty. The last thing he saw before Tul’s arrow opened his third eye was the idiot mage, twirling the poisoned needles between his fingers.
“Give up,” Mary hissed through gritted teeth.
The berserker roared and charged forward. The pain and blood didn’t hinder him, on the contrary, they gave him power.
Mary was having a hard time dealing with her opponent. Each blow, even if it was the simplest one, threatened to end her. A berserker’s strength lied in their rage, and the stronger the bloodlust, the deadlier their fists and axes became.
While Mary was circling the raging giant, the sorceress finally overcame her shyness. Letting her robes drop, she launched a huge icicle in Alice’s direction, putting an incredible amount of power into the spell.
The glittering projectile, nearly three feet long, had almost reached Alice, who was busy supporting her teammates with spells and buffs, when a figure clad in armor appeared in its path.
“Lari!” she shouted, feeling something warm fall on her face.
The swordsman collapsed to the ground, clutching the icicle that had pierced his stomach. Alice, holding back tears, knelt by him and began casting all healing spells she knew.
Tul, having drawn the bow back until it creaked, couldn’t release the arrow. The sorceress struck the ground with her staff, freezing the archer, unprotected by the healer’s spells, in place, taking with him the arm of the screaming Blackbeard who hadn’t had the time to move away from his teammate.
The berserker, whose right shoulder was covered with a strange black burn, continued to slice the air with his axes, looking for his opponent. At some point, he managed to find Mary. A sword, cut at the hilt, screeched. Mary ducked under the berserker’s arm and, twisting, plunged a dagger into the burned shoulder. The giant roared again and Mary watched in shock as flames shot out from the wound instead of blood.
The sorceress, having completed another incantation, created a fan of ice knives, which were instantly launched in Lari’s direction. They cut through the air with a loud woosh, but never found their target, having melted halfway to it. The idiot mage appeared in front of her, calmly holding his staff above the ground.
The berserker rolled his eyes and fell just as Mary slashed his throat, slicing through an artery. Choking on both air and blood, the giant fell to his knees and then collapsed to the ground, twitching and sullying the grass with his blood.
The sorceress was left alone, but there was no sign that she had any intention of surrendering. She couldn’t afford to back down in front of some pathetic jester dressed in beggar’s rags. If she could beat him, she was sure that she’d be able to beat the rest.
“Blizzard!”
With the staff, she drew a wide, wavy arc in the air, and a blizzard consisting of myriads of sharp needles rushed toward Ash. But he didn’t move. He hit the ground with his staff, turning the projectiles in front of him into droplets of warm water. The rest of the needles hit the trees behind him.
The sorceress, having had time to gather enough power for one of her most dangerous spells, just smiled. She drew a rune in the air with the crystal on her staff. The Word, frozen in the air, shone with a blinding blue. She then plunged her staff into the ground and waves of ice began to radiate from its base, freezing everything they touched.
Alice and Mary dragged the pale Lari to the cart as carefully as they could, looking at Blackbeard with anguish. He was screaming more and more as the ice bound not only his arm but also his legs. He was still clutching his ax as he couldn’t afford to lose it – he had to protect Tul no matter what as there might be someone else lurking in the woods.
Soon, the entire clearing turned into an icy tundra, and the trees into huge icicles. Among this wasteland was a small patch of green earth on which stood Ash. Not paying attention to the fact that her opponent had managed to survive another one of her techniques, the sorceress got ready to attack again. She showered him with ice needles, sent snowstorms and blizzards into battle that dusted the forest with snow, but she didn’t so much as manage to touch the idiot mage.
The cold made a cloud of steam escape from Mary’s mouth. Her hands were blue and trembling, but Ash, standing in his rags, didn’t feel the slightest bit of discomfort. He just kept hitting his staff against the ground, dispelling one spell after another.
The sorceress was breathing hard. Her legs were trembling and there was blood coming from her nose, a sign of magical exhaustion.
“Av-Avalanche!”
She slammed her staff against the frozen ground but nothing happened. She didn’t have enough power for another spell. She was coughing and wheezing, choking on her own blood, but she refused to give up. Clutching her staff, she straightened her back and tried again.
“Av―”
“Enough!” Ash shouted.
He plunged his staff into the ground; at the same moment, a wave of flames swept across the clearing, melting the ice and freeing Tul and Blackbeard from their prison. Mary’s breath was no longer visible, her hands were no longer trembling, and her nails and lips had taken on a healthy pink hue that had replaced the recent blueness.
“Please, calm down,” Ash practically begged as he walked over to the hunched girl. “Ten years in prison is better than death. You’ve no magic left in you, if you try to cast another spell, you’ll end up killing yourself.”
The sorceress collapsed to the ground and Ash knelt in front of her. He put down his staff and shrugged off his cloak, intending to cover her, but she waved him away.
“I know who you are,” she whispered, plump lips stained with blood. “You’re A―”
At that moment, she turned into a ball of blinding light. When the Stumps regained their vision, all they saw was a handful of ash being blown away by the wind.
“She didn’t listen,” the mage muttered mournfully, getting to his feet. “For every magic, there’s a limit beyond which you cannot go.”
Ash walked over to his teammates, mentally cursing the sorceress. If she had only kept her mouth shut, she might’ve made it through the day. If only… But it was true that Helmer’s predictions always came true, even if the goddess of fate herself resisted.
While Blackbeard and Tul were actively drinking to keep warm, Alice shed tears over Lari who seemed to have fallen asleep.
“Lari!” she wailed, clutching his hand. “Come on! Wake up!”
The wound had already healed, but the warrior showed no signs of life.
“I think,” Ash whispered, wringing water out of his trousers, “that only a true love’s kiss can wake our hero.”
“But…”
“Alice,” Mary whispered, “everyone knows about the two of you. Come on now.”
The girl, cheeks red with embarrassment, leaned down but Lari came to life before she could place a kiss on his lips. He suddenly sat up and hugged her. She, not accepting this turn of events, began to beat the poor man.
“And they call us an honorable group of Ternites…” Mary sighed and facepalmed.
Chapter 38
A few hours later
The Stumps were finally done preparing to continue their journey. They loaded the cloaks of their defeated enemies into the cart and b
uried their corpses into a mass grave (that is, a big hole that they dug as quickly as they could). The sorceress’s staff, made of expensive materials and imbued with powerful magic, Mary would sell to one of the nobles. Sometimes, trust and favors were more valuable than coin. Everything else would be sold at the market, save for the rings, which they buried deep into the ground. As valuable as favors were, they didn’t pay the bills.
Except for the staff and robes, they didn’t take anything else from the Songs. Honest Ternites considered looting an unworthy act and seldom took anything from their fallen colleagues, save for their weapons. To take one’s clothes was disgraceful and dishonorable.
The damaged armor and broken sword were wrapped in skins and placed at the bottom of the cart. One of the blacksmiths would probably manage to fix them as the steel had been properly enchanted.
After they’ve had some rest, Mary announced that they had had a nice warm-up and that the real journey was about to begin. From there on, they traveled without stopping until nightfall.
During that time, Mary kept glancing at Ash, who kept himself amused by making fun of Lari as the warrior had to lie in the cart with the goods due to his wounds. Alice had forbidden him from walking until she deemed him healthy enough to stand without falling over. Lari was amazed by how easily Ash had dealt with the sorceress. Then again, he shouldn’t have been, mages were more powerful than them. In a battle between two novices, the mage would definitely win. It was only after many years of traveling and learning the secrets of sorcery that a sorcerer could become equal to a mage. Or strong enough to stand up to them.
By the evening, the Stumps occupied a small clearing, over which, as per Mary’s orders, Ash put up a shield, spending a lot of time and nerves, though not his own, on it. After such a busy day, it was difficult for the squad to remain calm. The fluttering of a bird’s wings, the creaking of roots, the rustling of the wind, all of it made Blackbeard raise his ax and Tul draw his bow, pulling three arrows out of his quiver at once.
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 22