Mary had broken two more rapiers and a saber during their journey through the swamp, cursing the day she had agreed to buy weapons from a less-famous blacksmith. Her situation was a rather odd one: usually, by the time a person reached the height and fame that Mary had, they’d already have a unique weapon, be that a legendary blade, a staff carved from wood enchanted by a powerful mage, a shield forged from a fallen stare, or a bow carved from a horn of the lord of the forest. But Mary... Mary had none of that.
Having not yet found a faithful companion that wouldn’t break during a tough battle, Mary kept changing sword after sword. Ash sympathized with her, remembering that he had once been in the same situation.
All in all, the Lurk swamp was an annoyingly difficult part of an already difficult route. Leaving behind the stench, muddy, green water of the swamp, and all other monstrosities Lurk was known for, the Stumps now faced a new challenge.
Cold winds raged in the pass, turning the gentle snowflakes into a storm of tiny blades. Somewhere in the blinding whiteness, ice trolls lurked, looking for a warm meal and skins to sew new cloaks from.
In the darkest caves, lived huge salamanders, whose fiery breath could burn alive a knight in their own armor. Stone giants, masquerading as ledges and paths, oftentimes threw into the abyss those who dared disturb them. But all these dangers paled in the face of the magical cold that covered the mountains once inhabited by the dwarves.
“Of course, these are just legends.” Blackbeard chuckled as he helped Alice put on his thick cloak. “But rumors have it that these mountains turned hostile when they were captured by Anna’Bre, the Queen of Blizzards.”
Alice shuddered and buried her face in the fur collar of her cloak.
“And they say that her servants aren’t really snow spirits, but that they were once people. Men, mostly.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear. Alice and I should be all right, then,” Mary commented. She was wearing a scarlet cloak with a brown fur lining. All of their clothes had to be enchanted by Ash to make them more suitable for this inhospitable environment. The mage wasn’t that good with these kinds of spells, but he did what he could. He breathed fire into metal and steel, saving them from pneumonia and hypothermia.
Tul, who had changed out his leather clothes for tied-up skins, winked at Mary.
“And what if she grew tired of men and now seeks comfort in lovely ladies such as yourself?”
“Tough luck!” Lari laughed. He preferred a sheepskin coat to any furs. Then again, he needed to be able to move more than he needed to be warm. “Mary has a wall instead of a heart. Ain’t no one get through there.”
Snickering, he dodged a friendly smack on the shoulder, and hurried after the rest of the laughing crew, leaving the two girls and Ash behind. One look at the mage made the two shiver despite being well-dressed. He was still in his torn tunic and canvas trousers, with worn-out sandals, and a flimsy cloak draped over his shoulders.
“Esh, maybe you should put on something warmer?” Alice suggested.
“Nah.” He shook his head, leaning closer to the staff. “I’m a mage, remember? I’m not afraid of the cold.”
“Still...”
“Leave him,” Mary ordered sternly and turned toward the trail that led up the mountain. “He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”
Having said that, she adjusted the grip on her bag and followed her companions. Alice turned to Ash one last time, gave him an apologetic smile, and hurried to catch up with the rest of the party.
The mage wasn’t an altruist or anything like that. The truth was that the Stumps didn’t have a spare set of warm clothes so they’d each have to part with one item of their own clothing to keep him warm. Ash, proud as he was, couldn’t let that happen.
Having made sure that no one was watching, he cupped his hands and whispered something. A small ball of flame appeared in his hands. Smiling, he brought it closer to his chest and watched as it disappeared into his shirt. He shifted the tunic, making sure that the painted sun was shining heart. As long as it shone, he’d be warm.
“Hey!” he shouted, running after the group. “Wait for me! You forgot your jester!”
A Few Hours Later
A snowstorm was ragging in the pass. Snowflakes, sharp as needles of an experienced seamstress, kept getting under the hoods, causing the travelers to shiver from the cold and cover their frostbitten faces with their gloved hands. The wind’s sorrowful howling filled their ears, deafening them. Deprived of one of the five senses, they kept being deceived by the snow’s illusions. Among the dancing flakes, they saw the silhouettes of spirits and giants, which disappeared in a puff of white dust as soon as they grabbed their weapons.
Armor and gloves iced over, leather creaking, eyelashes stuck together with snowflakes, cheeks red and lips blue, the Stumps trudged forth through the snow. Ahead, somehow managing not to sink into the white up to his ankles like the rest of them, was Ash.
Holding the staff in front of him, he dispelled the storm as best as he could, but the forces were unequal. The cold was clearly infused with someone’s magic, one so powerful that even he couldn’t remove it. Still, he could manage to clear a bit of the path, which was enough for Tul to be able to navigate them through the blizzard.
“Ironic, ain’t it?” Lari muttered. “Going through an icy hellhole just to reach the Fiery mountains. We’re supposed to be fighting ogres and demons, not snowmen!”
“I’d be thankful if I were you,” Blackbeard said. He had turned into one such snowman himself in the last couple of hours. “Or do you want to fight a higher demon?”
Lari shuddered and shook his head in unison with Alice. He’d pick the cold wind, frozen boogers, clattering teeth, and even an avalanche, over fighting even the weakest of the higher demons. Guilds of over five hundred Ternites, of which about forty were mages, were needed to handle one such fiery beast, and even they suffered severe losses.
But no stories could come close to describing the true terror of meeting one of these monsters face to face. Take, for example, Urg the Toothless. He had faced against the demon Fekhem and was even able to defeat him. But now, in the once black hair, flaunt several silver strands to remind him of the fear and horror he had suffered in that battle. It was one of these higher demons that, according to legends, drove the Ifrits out of the Fiery Mountains, declaring these ever-burning lands as his own.
It was for this reason that Mary had spent a fabulous sum buying enchanted adamantium-tipped arrows in Zadastra. That was also why the Stumps had been looking for a talented mage, and that was why the king had sent several groups of adventurers to search for the magical herb. The danger of encountering a demon wasn’t only terrifying, it instilled fear that even the most powerful amulets and strongest potions couldn’t overcome.
“Hey!” Tul shouted, putting the telescope back into his backpack. He shouted something else afterward, but his voice was mixed with the howling of the wind.
Watching him, Ash couldn’t believe that anything but snow, snow, and more snow could be seen through that funny-looking metal tube with glass at either end.
“What is it?” Mary asked. Her hair, although hidden under the hood, had iced over and turned into the back of a porcupine.
“There’s a cave over there!” Tul shouted as loudly as he could.
Mary turned around, looked at the tired faces of her companions, and made the only sensible decision.
“We’ll wait out the storm there!”
The rest of the group responded with clapping. Then again, they were probably hitting their shoulders and legs not out of joy, but in an attempt to somehow warm themselves up. The journey to the cave, though not more than twenty yards long, took about an hour. Tul, who was leading the way, was using his musket to clear the rubble. No sane person would’ve ventured into the mountains without one such weapon. Unfortunately, the definition of “sane” didn’t apply to the Stumps. Ash, still leading, didn’t risk melting even the smallest bit of
the pat for fear of causing a landslide or worse.
The travelers arrived to the cave, covered with ice and a thick layer of snow. They had enough of it to keep several pounds of meat cold during the entire summer.
The mage was the first to enter the darkness of the cave. He whispered something, and a small, but bright light danced at the end of his staff. The flames shooed away the gloom, which, just like the cold and snow, seemed to have been reinforced with someone’s magic. There were no stalagmites or stalactites in the cave, just a flat floor. The place was big enough to accommodate a small town hall or—
“A dragon,” Blackbeard breathed out, pulling off his cap and shaking snow and ice off his cloak. Turning around, he saw his friends frozen in horror. Mary was trying to get the ice out of her hair. Lari was unsuccessfully chipping the frost off the guard that held his blade glued firmly to the scabbard. Tul, almost weeping, breathed softly on the musket, cleaning it with the sleeve of his padded jacket. Alas, the weapon was clearly broken. One shoot would be enough to turn the barrel into a flower in full bloom. Alice was rubbing her cheeks with her hands, looking as sweet and charming as always.
Ash, looking tired more than anybody else, hit the ground with his staff, releasing a ball of flame. It looked like he had lit a fire without using any wood. Well, that was what mages were for, to impress people with all sorts of tricks.
“Don’t be afraid.” He smiled, and moved to the entrance to draw a Circle. “Dragons haven’t been seen here in a couple of eras.”
“He’s right,” Blackbeard said, brushing his beard that now looked like a bush on a winter morning.
Having calmed down a little, the rest of the Stumps went about their business. However, they were still cautious, peering into the gloom and looking suspiciously at the arches and the walls. They, too, looked smooth, as if some giant had sanded them down. The imprints of ancient coins were still visible on the floor. The dragon’s fire had burned it into the rock, its greed had once brought gold and riches here, and its wings and scales had carved the walls and the floor.
Soon, the boys were hanging their clothes by the fire, leaving them to dry on weapons that had replaced hangers and racks. The Stumps sat in a circle, and Tul, who was in charge of provisions, handed them each a few buns of bread, a piece of dried meat, and a small skin of water. Luckily, they could get plenty of the latter, as they could just melt snow and drink until their throats were frozen.
“The bags are almost empty.” The archer sighed, rolling up another empty bag. “If we tighten our belts... We could have enough food for three more weeks. I hope.”
They then turned to Ash, who had stuffed the bun and the meat into his mouth and washed it all down with the water from his skin.
“Wfat?” he asked. “Don’tf wook at mfe!”
Mary rolled her eyes, and the others just smiled, knowing that Ash really wasn’t to blame for the lack of food — the journey was much more difficult than they had imagined. Even taking into account the emergency rations, they’d have to be very careful if they didn’t want to starve.
Mary, as befitted a leader, tried to reassure her friends.
“Don’t you worry, guys, we’ll walk around Lurk like in the good old days. We’ll soon leave behind the burnt earth and dead creatures.”
“There’s also the Forest of Shadows,” Alice reminded her.
“Ser Arlun will help us there!” Lari beamed, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Everyone knew he wanted to go back that way only because he hoped that the knight would help him master the technique.
“That’s right!” Mary smiled, grateful that her companions will still as chipper and marry as always.
Ash said nothing. He couldn’t tell them about the man’s death. It wasn’t that he thought that the Stumps wouldn’t understand his story, just that it’d take him too long to tell it as there was a lot to explain. Like, how a clumsy idiot like him managed to defeat the champion of the Arena.
“Well, we won’t go to no weddings, that’s for sure,” Blackbeard said with a smile.
“I’ll drink to that!” Lari, agreed, lifting his waterskin.
“Even if the food is good?” Alice winked.
The two looked at each other and even Ash joined them in reply.
“Even if the food is excellent!”
The Stumps laughed, while Lari choked on his sip of water. Blackbeard slapped him on the back, making Lari not only spit out the water, but almost cough up his soul and lungs. His shouting made them all laugh once again.
The boys joked and chatted about the most random and insignificant topics, but Ash, smiling, kept an eye on Alice. She was looking around the cave, shivering and pressing against Lari’s shoulder. The latter, caught up in the chit-chat, didn’t notice her distress. Ash was about to perform some funny trick to cheer her up and calm her down when she suddenly spoke.
“Blackbeard.”
“Yeah?”
“You fought a dragon before, didn’t you?”
Silence fell. Blackbeard, frozen, didn’t even bother to remove the comb from his beard. The stern look in his eyes reflected a momentary fright, which was soon replaced by sadness. That was how it usually was when you remembered something you’ve been trying very hard to forget.
“Alice,” Mary hissed, her eyes flashing angrily. “Now’s not the time or the place.”
The girl covered her mouth with her hand, aware that her innocent question had probably reopened some old wounds. “I... I’m sorry, Blackbeard.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” he replied with a shrug and removed the comb from his beard. Taking a sip of water, he looked longingly around the cave. “And you, Mary, calm down. There’s nothing wrong with questions. Well, I might as well tell you, the mood is suitable for a horror story by the fire. So, kids, want me to spin you a little tale for good night?”
The Stumps nodded reluctantly. They knew that Blackbeard had once traveled as a guard before joining the squad. It wasn’t exactly the same as being a mercenary, but it was close in meaning and spirit. Three or four years ago, he was invited by the Alliance of the Seven Guilds, who decided to go after a dragon and its riches. Blackbeard had never told this story before, but everyone knew that it didn’t have a happy ending.
The firelight danced in his dark eyes, and the play of shadows made his face look even more rugged and sadder than it was.
“I was called by an old friend, Rango the Fanged.”
“Isn’t that the one who spat in the duke’s face?” Lari asked.
“Yeah...” Blackbeard smiled. “That’s the one. He was a nutjob who performed all kinds of crazy stunts... But that’s not the point. I was young then, and... Esh, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Just... Forty isn’t that young...”
“I’m thirty-four!” Blackbeard roared.
Ash choked on his water and waved away the help. Clearing his throat and wheezing, he looked at him and the rest of them in surprise. No one smiled, winked, or gave any indication that this was a joke.
“I told you that the beard makes you look older!” Mary giggled, which was more surprising than the fact that Blackbeard was actually in his thirties.
“Oh, come on!” He protested, stroking his beard. “Shall I continue, or do you wanna make fun of me some more?”
“Yes, go on!”
“Be quiet then!”
“But how—”
Alice put her hand over the mage’s mouth before he could say anything else. However, she jerked her hand back with a cry when Ash licked the inside of her palm.
“So,” Blackbeard continued, “there were about four hundred of us from all the seven guilds. They gathered in a week, took a short course on dragon slaying, and advanced with nothing but song and dance. Most of them were fresh out of school, still novices... There were only three masters, and even they weren’t that good. No one, of course, listened to the experienced fighters who kept repeating that a dragon can be more terrifying than an entire army of demons.�
� He paused to drink again, wiped his lips with his sleeve, and grimaced as if someone had replaced his water with tart wine. “It took us half a month to reach the lair. We were so disorganized... People were promised so much coin that everyone rushed to battle without a second thought... And he... He...” He waved his hand and turned away. “My task was to keep the left flank, but I couldn’t hold it... I... I got scared and stepped back, and Fanged... Fanged died in the first wave. I didn’t even have time to blink when I was thrown back like ash in the wind... I barely remember anything after that... Screams, blood... Two huge yellow eyes... I remember running without looking back, leaving my weapon behind... Only seventy survived, but I was the only one who made it to the city. The rest died from their wounds on the way...”
Alice sniffed softly. The others were as white as the snow that circled the cavern walls. Many schoolboys, mouth agape and eyes wide, listened to the stories of experienced Ternites, about dragons, demons, monsters, and dreamed of gaining fame in a battle against one such creature. But, as history had shown, only few survived such an ordeal.
Only a thousand skilled and experienced adventurers, led by no less than a hundred masters, would be able to defeat a dragon. In the entire history of the nameless world, only one person had done something like that, but they had already become an exception for any rule that governed this world. And it was he now that listened to Blackbeard’s story.
As the rest of the Stumps laid out their sleeping bags, Ash stroked his staff thoughtfully, watching the magic flame dance. Once upon a time, he, too, had looked into a pair of huge, yellow eyes...
Chapter 49
10th Day of the Month of Afir, 312 A.D., Eastern Territory
A fter hundreds of battles, in which Ash played jump rope with death more than once, the mage had developed a sixth sense for danger. As soon as he noticed something unusual, he immediately entered the state of combat-readiness. A sense comparable only to that of an animal. It didn’t fail him this time either.
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 31