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

by Kirill Klevanski

  Irba tried not to close her eyes, so as not to miss something important, and not to concentrate on anything for too long. She looked like a tired passerby, absentmindedly trudging along a paved road.

  Treading carefully through the soft grass, she finally found what she was looking for — a small stream, the end of which was lost somewhere in infinity.

  She leaned over the stream and opened her eyes wide, trying to see as much as possible. At first, the stream looked like a thread of blue silk, but the longer you looked at it, the faster you realized that from one “bank” to the other you’d have to swim for no less than an eternity.

  Vague images rushed into her mind and she seemed to pass them through herself, searching for the necessary fragments. Finally, led by her heart, some higher force, or intuition, she came across the image of the Stumps. With a smile, she reached for it, but a fierce flame flared up in front of her.

  A tall pillar burst out of the ground, throwing Irba away from the stream. She screamed and abruptly opened her eyes to find Raland holding her and Alice chanting a healing spell. The girl’s hands shone with a soft, blue light and the pain in Irba’s eyes and head gradually subsided.

  “Irba, what happened?” Raland asked, concerned.

  “Is that unusual for her?” Tul inquired, thinking that such screams and convulsions were just part of the show.

  “This is the first time I’ve seen her... like this.” Raland turned to Irba, whose face was covered in sweat.

  The seer struggled to a semi-sitting position. Her whole body was trembling, and in her head she could hear the fading tolls of the bell. Her vision was blurry, but she could clearly see two blue eyes staring at her. Ash was gazing intently at her face. Irba swallowed.

  Ash had learned a lot about the nameless world during his travels, and one of the lessons things was that you couldn’t see the future without changing it. And the Twelfth Master couldn’t allow anyone to change their future. Ash glared at the seer for a moment longer, then returned to the dance with a smile, hugging the pretty girl who clung to him.

  “Miss?” Alice whispered carefully.

  Irba flinched. With unexpected strength, her fragile fingers gripped Alice’s wrist, pulling her to the ground.

  “Your journey,” she uttered so softly that only Alice could hear. “Your journey will bring terror to all of us. The last king will be born... When he falls, he’ll rise in vengeance. Flames will be everywhere... In the sky and in the waters... Horror... for all of us... The madman is walking in the shadows...”

  By this time two acrobats had arrived. They carefully picked up the exhausted seer and exchanged nods with Raland as they carried her to the far tents.

  “A hellish thing,” Blackbeard spat.

  No one even tried to shut him up with a bun or pie — everyone was too shocked by what happened. However, the oppressive atmosphere was dispelled by the music pouring from everywhere, as well as Raland’s avalanche-like laughter.

  “Perhaps that was a sign for her to finally retire!” he joked.

  “Yeah,” Lari said. He had already forgotten about the incident and was glaring at Ash again. Not that he envied the mage... Ah, who was he kidding? Of course he did.

  The feast continued, and no one thought to ask Alice what the old Irba had predicted.

  Chapter 44

  The following morning

  A sh awoke with a headache. Carefully getting out of the arms of his last night’s lover, he slowly got out of the tent, and then walk about a dozen yards to where the Stumps were.

  Mary at first forbade Alice to treat Ash’s hangover with magic, but soon changed her anger to mercy.

  “Alice, you’re a miracle worker,” Ash said, relieved. He winked at the girl and pulled a tulip out of the air with a wide swing of his arm. “Here’s a present.”

  The girl accepted the flower and tucked it into her hair. The mage gave her a thumbs-up as a sign of approval.

  “That’s enough,” Mary said sternly, adjusting her scabbard. “We should get ready and hit the road.”

  The travelers, taking into account the wishes of their leader, fooled around a little more and then started packing. Lari took the longest to get up. He was late, as usual, and didn’t wake up until the Aqueals had rolled up most of their tents.

  As a result, Mary almost fined him, but she was distracted by Zayum who arrived with their horses. Including Guido, who walked slightly behind the rest.

  “Come on,” Ash whispered, tugging at his friend’s mane and feeding him a piece of fresh meat. “We’re almost there.”

  Guido snorted, but kept himself in check and didn’t gallop off to race with the birds and the wind. The mage mounted his horse, tied the knots in his scarf, and waited for the others.

  “Your horses, my lady.” Zayum bowed. Only a blind man wouldn’t have noticed that Mary’s lips parted slightly — she clearly liked the young man. “Washed and fed.” He nodded in Guido’s direction. “He kept trying to eat our stable boy instead of grass.”

  “He’s like that,” Tul said, climbing onto the cart. “You’re lucky he’s in a good mood. I remember when Blackbeard almost lost a chunk of his right ear...”

  He wasn’t allowed to finish. However, chewing a fruit cake, he didn’t seem too upset about it. When everyone was seated in their saddles, Zayum led the squad to the head of the caravan. The rolled-up tents and all of the equipment had long since been put away into the carts, while most of the old and the young were seated in carts that looked like small houses on wheels. They even had windows.

  Soon, the caravan was on its way to Erld. In the rear were the travelers not yet accepted as guests of the Aqueals. They didn’t know it yet, but their bags and purses were much lighter after the last night’s feast.

  The true art of theft wasn’t stealing, but making the victim unaware of their misfortune and part with the thief as with a close friend. And, by the Gods, there were no thieves, acrobats, and actors more skillful and talented than the Aqueals anywhere under the light of Irmaril.

  Ignoring the creaking of the wheels, the squeaking of the springs, and the chorus of voices, Ash watched Alice as she carefully read something in one of her books. No matter what anyone thought, it wasn’t a simple book, of which there were enough in any retail store.

  No, it was a book of magic with yellow, worn-out pages covered with a leather binding adorned with symbols. Some said that the more tattered one’s book was, the better the mage they were.

  Mages usually used ancient runes to write down the Words they knew on parchment. Much less often they wrote entire spells and magical formulae. Books were often stolen and were the most popular items on the black market, so mages didn’t want their spells to fall into the wrong hands.

  “Anything interesting in there?” Ash smiled, peeking over Alice’s shoulder.

  “Shoo,” she said playfully, covering her notes with her hand.

  “Awh, you don’t trust me?”

  “Mom taught me not to trust pretty boys.”

  “How rude!” Ash sniffed and turned away. Once he turned back, his face was crooked in an awful grimace. “How about now?”

  Alice did her best not to laugh, but she failed. Ash, pleased with the result, squeezed Guido’s sides a little, spurring him on. The river was close, so why not try to lighten everyone’s mood a little?

  “Such much to do, so little time,” Ash said sadly, trying to figure out how to cheer up Blackbeard.

  While he was causing mischief, he kept glancing over at Alice, who was trying to think up or learn a new Word. He couldn’t help but smile, he had been in her shoes. Well, his knowledge was much deeper than hers, but more on that later.

  By the time the caravan reached the river — a strip of brilliant blue cutting through a field of emerald — Ash had listened to a couple of Mary’s lectures, smoked a few pipes with Blackbeard, talked politics with Tul, and napped with Lari.

  Ash couldn’t help but feel as if an angry artist had attacked
the canvas in a fit of passion-fueled rage, and then looked at it, realized that he had done a good job, and left it alone. The Erld — a stormy stream, on its shallowest and narrowest point became quiet and serene, but never lost its grandeur.

  Ancient as the realms themselves, it seemed to gaze with mute superiority at the countless travelers who looked like ants next to it. They were scrambling over the azure serpent, who was dismissively allowing them to pass. It seemed that if the river truly had feelings, it would be indifferent to the creatures that crossed it, because ahead of it were the Seven Seas, waters full of blood, and secrets, and a beast much more terrible than it ever would be.

  Ash ran his fingers over his old, but still strong staff. He felt uneasy. Something was causing shivers to run his spine, but he didn’t know what. There weren’t many things in the lands from the left of the horizon that could frighten him.

  Guido snorted nervously and hit the ground with his hoof.

  “Hush,” Ash whispered, leaning close to his companion’s ears. “Calm down.”

  The horse, though no longer nervous, started breathing more heavily and moved its head as if searching for danger.

  “Is everything all right?” Tul asked as the cart drew next to Ash. “You look exhausted.”

  “I guess...” The mage drawled. “Don’t you feel it?”

  “Feel... what?”

  He stared at Tul’s calm face, then looked around at all the horses. Seeing that they were calm, he felt a little better himself.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said, smiling a little stiffly.

  “What was in your pipe, eh?” Blackbeard poked fun and gave the mage a friendly slap on the shoulder.

  Despite his good intentions, Ash almost screamed in pain and grimaced as he rubbed his sore arm. His reaction caused another wave of laughter.

  “Can you keep it down?!” Lari shouted.

  “I’m trying to read here!” Alice added.

  It was only through great willpower and self-control that the trio didn’t laugh again. Though, this was probably thanks to Mary, in whose eyes shone the threat of deducing each chuckle, snicker, giggle, and snort from their pays. She was still bitter about having to pay the toll for crossing the river.

  So, holding back the laughter, the squad continued to the ferry. Ash stared at it wide-eyed, having never seen such a contraption in his life before. He had seen ports so huge that some capitals looked no bigger than a village in comparison. He had seen cities so tiny that they could fit into a shell of a walnut, and their inhabitants onto the tip of a pine needle. He had seen a lot of things, but he had never seen people carry around a dismantled ferry in their carts and wagons.

  Stopping at the shore, the Aqueals pulled out boards, logs, felt and hemp ropes from their carts and constructed a ferry in under half an hour. The resulting structure looked more like a raft, to which a low sail and steering wheel had been attached, but it served its purpose well.

  The Stumps dismounted and pulled their horses into the logs, which were hastily covered with planks. It was necessary to cross in several stages, since there was no way that the ferry could hold almost three hundred people, not counting their luggage, carts, and mounts. Women, children, the travelers, and the horses went first, together with several Aqueals, led by Raland. Ash was the last to board, and as soon as he put his foot onto the deck, Guido whinnied nervously, and a strong gust of cold wind furled the sail, coiling it like a snake. Ash blinked and the sail was back to normal again.

  “Is your horse all right?” Mary hissed, pulling Ash back on board.

  “Yeah... He just... doesn’t like water.”

  When they were all gathered on the deck, Raland gave the signal and several powerful men grasped the thick, long pole and pushed it against the riverbed. The ferry shuddered and the ropes snapped as the tree swelled with water, but the structure held. It wasn’t more than twenty yards to the other bank, which was less than an hour of sailing with good wind and a calm current. Still, Ash was nervous. As a wielder of fire, being so close to his natural enemy, he couldn’t help feel like his life was in danger. His powers would weaken the moment he’d step foot into a puddle, so he didn’t even want to think what could happen if he fell into the river.

  Despite his concerns, the ferry, accompanied by the whaling of ropes and sails, slowly approached its destination. Ash closed his eyes, gripped his staff, and slowly moved his lips, reciting ancient prayers in a language forgotten by humans, once spoken by now dead Gods.

  “I don’t like this,” Blackbeard muttered, tucking his favorite comb into his bosom.

  “You ain’t one of them...” Tul commented and nodded in the direction of one of the elves.

  Tall and handsome, with fair skin and golden hair, he was the personification of the elven stereotype. However, no one paid attention to Tul’s comment, as they all knew that elves never played the good guys in his stories.

  “Maybe he’s seasick,” Mary said with a slight note of malice in her voice as she looked over in Blackbeard’s direction.

  “You’re evil, Mary, simply evil,” Blackbeard said, shaking his head. “You have no love for your friends or compassion for their suffering.”

  “What are you now, a preacher?”

  “Gods forbid!” He snickered. “But, you know, it wouldn’t hurt to let some of their light into your black heart and—”

  “I know what’s going on,” Lari interrupted them, rolling up the scroll and putting it away. He realized that there was no way that he’d be able to do any work around here. “He’s been arguing with theologians about faith again.”

  “If only I had listened to them!” Blackbeard exclaimed. Everyone else just rolled their eyes. “How can you believe in the Gods? See this river? Do you see how much water there is in it? That’s about the same amount of blood that’s being shed on a daily basis! Where are these Gods even looking?”

  “Everyone’s closet has at least one skeleton in it.” Tul shrugged.

  “Well they ain’t looking at us, that much I can tell you.” Blackbeard waved him away.

  “Continue like this, and we’ll run out not only fruit cakes and bread buns, but food in general,” Mary warned.

  Blackbeard sighed and looked over at Ash.

  “Well, it could’ve been worse...”

  At that moment, Tul finally calmed down and, swallowing noisily, wiped the sweat from his forehead and pointed somewhere to the side.

  “Is this bad enough?!”

  The crowd turned and froze. Ash, opening one eye, strung a list of curses so colorful that a longshoreman would’ve blushed hearing them. The ferry groaned, made several jerks, and then stopped altogether. No matter how many people pushed with the pole, it wouldn’t budge. It was as if something was holding it in place. Something that was rapidly approaching them.

  About twenty yards in height, created from animated streams of water, this something appeared in the form of a two-headed snake. Its fangs were two whirls that could cut through armor with the strength of a miner’s drill. Instead of scales, it had streams of water that flew contrary to the laws of physics, from the bottom up.

  “An elemental!” one of the travelers yelled.

  “No!” Ash croaked, peering into the eyes filled with emerald mist. “It’s a spirit... It’s the spirit of the river Erld!”

  “It can’t be!” shouted a berserker with blue tattoos on his face. “Spirits never act on their own!”

  The mages, having recovered from the initial shock, began to cast spells in attempts to break the spirit’s connection to its summoner. Soon, the air was trembling with magic. Silver sickles made of wind currents flew toward the snake, and vines that emerged from the water wrapped themselves tightly around it.

  The serpent shivered under the storm and hissed deafeningly, causing people to cover their ears. Golden fire rained down upon the beast but it seemed unbothered by it.

  “It can’t be!” the berserker repeated, clutching his huge battle-ax with magic runes
shining red on its blades.

  Twisting, the beast roared and then its left head opened its mouth, sending a shower of water bullets at the ferry and its passengers, who, having reacted too late, screamed in pain and horror. Their wounds ranged from holes the size of a pea, to those the size of a big apple. The planks cracked, sending splinters into the air, and the sail instantly turned into a sieve.

  There was a moment of silence. People stared at the deck covered with blood as the water around the hull began to turn a pale pink. Blackbeard was the first to react; he snatched a shield from the cart and cast Dragon’s Wing before the next volley came rushing at them, covering the deck in a steady shimmer.

  “Shields up!” he roared.

  Those who managed to come to their senses were quick to grab shields and cast a variety of defensive skills that merged into one strong dome that covered the ferry. Attacks that managed to break through fell on the shields. The defenders felt their legs tremble and hands shake, but none of them dared lower their shield.

  Healers, including Alice, tried to help the wounded, but they didn’t have enough strength, time, or space to save all of them. Women and children screamed and cried, the elderly tried to help, but only got in the way, and cattle ran amok, trying to escape the tenacious grip of the leather belts that held them in place.

  Some managed to flee by jumping off the ferry, only to die in the river’s cold embrace. After the first defender faltered, weakening the defense, a little more than a dozen corpses lay scattered on the deck. Three children huddled under the bodies of two women who tried to protect them, and seven Ternites, who fell in battle.

  The adventurers couldn’t believe their eyes, unprepared for the fact that death and danger could be waiting for them on the quiet ferry ride. Unable to stand this cruel twist of fate, many succumbed to rage. Grabbing their weapons, they rained blow upon blow on the spirit. But all their bullets, arrows, and spells, passed through the river without causing it the slightest bit of damage.