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

by Kirill Klevanski

  A stallion rushed into the grove, caught the mage by his neck, and literally threw the dazed Ash onto his back. Ash clutched at the black mane with his right hand, and tried to hold on to the staff with his left. The stallion was running so fast that the trees turned into a brown blur.

  “Who...?”

  He didn’t finish. In the clatter of the stallion’s hooves, in the beating of his hot heart, in the breathing of its powerful lungs, and in his free, unruly soul, he heard a Name — Guido. With it came the memory of a colt given to the wolves to raise.

  “Guido!” the mage shouted.

  The stallion whinnied and leaped over a small stream. Powerful and defiant, he could outrun the wind itself. Ash laughed and snuggled up to his friend’s back. Amazing adventures awaited them, but something told Ash that he wouldn’t go join the great ones. They towered above everyone, and if he were to join them, small as he was, he felt like he’d be smothered by his own complexes.

  Chapter 57

  13th Day of the Month of Lust, 322 A.D., the Fiery Mountains

  T he Stumps were moving through a lifeless desert. The dead earth heaved under their feet. There was no vegetation for miles around, not even the most common clumps of weeds could be seen tumbling around, carried by the wind.

  The sky, covered with thick clouds, weighed not only on their shoulders, but nerves as well. Tired of shaking odd the endless rain of black ash, the adventures now looked more like chimney sweepers than ballad heroes. Orange lightning would occasionally hit the ground, followed by eerie-sounding thunder. Sometimes, they had to pray to the Gods that the fiery boulders ejected by the ever-awake volcano would continue to fly and not crash on them. For a long time, a red trail remained behind the ejected stone, encircling these inhospitable lands like a bloody belt.

  The squad remained silent. In such an environment, there was no need for jokes or idle chatter. Ash had once tried to start a conversation by asking how they had managed to find them in Anna’Bre’s home, but when he got his answer, he couldn’t think of any other topic for a conversation. The answer was so simple that it didn’t leave room for any further questions. After he had played the flute, a black sphere appeared in front of the Stumps and led them directly to the Ice Queen’s chambers.

  For the second day now, they walked with nothing but tenacity. There were no animals or birds in these lands. It was as hot at night as it was at noon. Their water supply was running out, and if it weren’t for Ash, they would’ve died of dehydration long ago. The mage often had to get close to a geyser and turned the sulfurous water into a drinkable one. It took a lot of effort, but they had no other choice.

  However, they were nearing the finish line of their journey. A huge mountain emerged from the dark fog. Not as tall as it was wide, it was an ever-smoking, forever-flaming mountain. Sometimes, the scorched desert was shaken by a low rumble, followed by the sound of a volcano spurting tons of hissing lava on the slopes, whose red glow could be seen for miles around.

  Evening of the same day

  Alice threw up, but no one blamed her for it. Pillars stood at the edges of the road. On them, instead of signs, were people and other creatures. Their mutilated, disfigured bodies looked like sculptures of a deranged artist. Some of them had their ribs rearranged to resemble wings. Others wore their entrails instead of scarves, while the rest had hearts stuffed into their mouths, or arms outstretched to hold their own eyes. There were even those who had legs instead of arms, and sticks instead of legs.

  The blood that had been dripping down the road for months had made the ground soft ad sticky. The adventurers were afraid to look down, not wishing to know what their feet were buried in.

  “Don’t look,” Lari whispered, holding Alice’s head against his broad chest. “Don’t look.”

  The girl was sobbing softly. Blackbeard and Tul were running their fingers over their weapons every now and then, and Mary was as pale as snow. Even Ash shuddered at the sight. But more than that, he was struck by the behavior of his friends.

  What made the Ternites, who despised horror and blood, go on a journey across the expanses of the nameless world? Did they like this kind of pillars? Endless strings of betrayals? Wars? Feuds? Robberies and deceit? Why did people, free in their desires and opportunities, still come into service? Was it only because of orders? He had often wondered about this, but had never found an answer.

  Another orange flash lit up a huge citadel. Its spire tickled the flank of the Fiery Mountain. At its base, it looked like any other fort – square and bland.

  “Something tells me,” Blackbeard rasped, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “that we’ll find the flower inside.”

  Mary glanced at the pillars. Her shoulders drooped.

  “Probably.” Tul nodded, noticing her reaction. “These were probably our competitors...”

  Alice sobbed and curled up into a ball, looking like a frightened kitten. Lari did his best to remain calm, and held her closer.

  Ash never tired of admiring his friend’s character. Sometimes, the swordsman was flighty and envious, sometimes bold and cowardly, but in the most dangerous of moments, he was always as steady as a rock. Perhaps in this lay the answer to Ash’s question about Ternites.

  “Stay here,” the mage said calmly. “I’ll go and get the flower.”

  The Stumps looked at him in bewilderment and smiled.

  “Even now, you’re cracking jokes,” Tul said, half-joking.

  Ash glanced around, then turned back to the slightly braver adventurers. Should he tell them? After all, they considered them his friend, which was why they saved him. Ash had never had any friends before, only occasional companions, forced allies, and rare acquaintances. However, all of them, sooner or later, when their own ways, leaving him alone. Ash guessed what he’d face when he entered the citadel, and that the Stumps wouldn’t survive this encounter. If he revealed who he was, they’d stay, and perhaps they’d be saved. But as soon as this thought crossed his mind, the faces of his new and only friends appeared in front of him.

  The dear Alice, whose warm brown eyes sparkled with fear. The tense Tul, behind whose frustration lay the determination to fight the “destroyer of cities.” The dumbfounded Blackbeard, who reeked of grief and betrayal. After all, it was he who had so zealously defended Ash from Lari and Mary’s accusations. In vain, as it would turn out. The latter two would most likely feel relieved and draw their blades without a second thought.

  Ash was certain that by some higher force or miracle, his identity would be revealed the moment they stepped foot into the citadel. This moment, it seemed, had become inevitable, inescapable, and ever so nearer.

  The young mage sighed. No, he didn’t have the courage to come clean. The little cowardice that remained in him allowed him to feel sorry for himself and decide that he wanted to postpone loneliness for a little while longer.

  “I thought I’d cheer you up a little,” he said, smiling a little stiffly.

  “Ash’s right,” Mary breathed with relief, adjusting the bun under her helmet. “This isn’t the time to lose heart.”

  No one objected. No one pointed out to her that there were dozens of corpses hanging along the road as no one doubted her. Ash didn’t know what greed was, because he had never experienced it, but he still wanted to believe that no amount of greed would allow someone to make such decisions. What were the Ternites fighting for?

  Blackbeard’s heavy plate armor rang. Mary and Lari’s leather grieves creaked. Tul’s bowstring hummed. And Alice’s eyes sparkled with determination. Ash walked behind, his staff tapping a measured, but slightly sad rhythm. The citadel grew nearer.

  The massive battlements, made in the shape of plummeting vultures, were cast in brass. Instead of a barbican, there were steep steps with crimson streaks and a carpet made of ash. On the sides of the picot-shaped iron gate, were metal walls with disturbing bas-relieves. The nine-foot-tall figures of warriors, whose profiles were awe-inspiring, whipped the enslaved
men, women, and children with heavy whips. People fell to their knees, trying to escape from the blows, but the frozen droplets of blood indicated that there was no escape.

  The black metal from which the walls were made merged with the equally dark, gloomy skies. Against this background, the copper-clad gate, whose peak was only a little short of the main one, looked like a captured lightning bolt ready to strike.

  The Stumps, weapons at the ready, stood at the huge gate, waiting for it to rise and let them in. Ash still stood on the second-to-last step, not daring to join them. He knew that once he got up, there’d be no trace left of his carefully guarded secret. The curse, the fucking curse of the fucking Gods, always found him. This time, in an attempt to escape from his own sins, he returned to the place where he had committed them.

  He ran from one corner of the world to the other, but wherever he set foot, in his mind he always heard Hu-Chin’s mocking laughter and the abbot’s disappointed sighs.

  “There’s a price for everything.”

  And although he was aware of this, he wasn’t prepared to receive the divine punishment with a raised head. He continued to run like a cowardly hare chased by a pack of bloodhounds.

  “Esh?” Lari called. “Chickened out?”

  “A little bit.”

  The mage took one last step and the gate swung open with a metallic creak. Inside, the citadel resembled the Crystal Palace’s lavish “throne room,” caressed by the tongues of numerous torches and oil lamps.

  Blackbeard was the first to enter, immediately covering the group with Dragon’s Wing. Tul, whose loaded pistols were begging to be released from their holsters, pulled back the arrow so far that its plume reached his ear. Ash was afraid to imagine what strength he had to possess if he could pull a bow so far.

  “Ssso, you came.”

  From a throne of yellowed bones, rose a figure so grotesque that it drew a gasp of astonishment from the newcomers. A humanoid reptile clad in scarlet armor with three scars across its face greeted the guests. Its arms and legs were clawed, its face frozen in a snarl, and behind it was a powerful tail topped with a metal lance.

  The bowstring sang, but Racker didn’t bat an eye. A Word left his scaly lips, and the Stumps fell to their knees. The pressure that had been put on them was so strong that it broke through Alice’s protective spell. The poor girl couldn’t move even her finger to wipe the blood from her nose. The same fate befell the rest of the adventurers.

  The arrow stopped in front of Racker’s face, and fell to the floor with a rattle. The adamantium tip soon fell silent, having left scratches on the granite.

  Ash, whose magic could not be tamed by the Word, glanced behind him and looked at his bewildered companions with a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes. Would he ever again be able to call them his friends? Even if they survived to tell the tale of this battle, he doubted that he would. The “tool of the Gods” didn’t have friends, only legions of enemies and a horde of bounty hunters.

  “Long time no see, Racker,” Ash said a little sadly.

  “Too long,” the reptile drawled.

  Chapter 58

  “I ssse you’re not alone.” Racker pointed a claw behind the mage’s back.

  “About that... You’re a bastard, Racker, but you’ve never broken your word.”

  If the reptilian could arch an eyebrow, it would’ve. But its face wasn’t made for human emotion, so it just stared at the mage.

  “Give me your word that if I die, you’ll give them the Star Flower.”

  Racker was silent for a moment, and then he burst into a terrible, croaking laugh. Ash tightened his grip on the staff, which sent a wave of momentary warmth through his tired body.

  “Die?” The forked tongue licked the dry nostrils and retreated back into the fanged mouth. “I have no need for your life! Idiot! Do you think I’ve been hiding from you all thisss time? Do you think I was afraid of death?”

  “Sorry if I offended you, but you’ve never known for tour bravery.”

  Racker growled, causing the walls to tremble under the power of his rage.

  “You idiot! All thiss time, you’ve been playing to my tune! All thisss time, I wasssn’t hiding, but luring you out! And you came, like a moth to the flame... I never wanted you! But sssomething of yoursss...”

  An old, worn-out staff rolled across the floor. Ash stood motionless. He knew. All this time, Ash knew about Racker’s intentions. The reptile’s already huge eyes opened even wider.

  “Four years ago, when you burned down the monastery, I really thought that you were after me. But then...” He remembered what followed after he had devoured Hu-Chin’s heart. If not for the staff... Well, thank the Gods and the Spirits that there was only one reptilian standing here now. “Then everything fell into place. At first, I thought that I should keep the staff from you, so I ran. I ran for eight years, hiding in every nook and corner of this planet... But then I realized.”

  “What?”

  More than anything, Ash wanted to turn around and look at the Stumps in the eye. But he couldn’t. He was terrified that he’d see contempt and fear on their faces. Fear even more than contempt.

  “There’s a price for everything,” Ash whispered mournfully. He stood still for a while, looking into the depths of his own soul, and when he looked out, it was as if he was transformed. His face became stern, his back straightened, and his features seemed sharper. “You cursed the castle, confused Ser Arlun, blackmailed Anna’Bre, and all this for the sake of correcting your own mistake.”

  “Missstake?” He laughed. “You usssed to be different, general. Once upon a time, people ran upon hearing the sssound of the war drummsss. And now?”

  Racker outstretched his right hand and cast a spell. The staff vibrated, flew into the air, and landed on his scaly palm. Lightning flashed and thunder shook the walls. But, surprisingly, everything inside the citadel was calm. As soon as the wood touched the scales, Racker began to change. He became a foot shorter, and his shoulders narrowed to their original width. The emerald scales retracted into his skin, and his pupils began to widen.

  Soon, an ordinary-looking man of about thirty stood on the pedestal. The scars remained, stretching from the right temple of his bald head, and disappearing right near the edge of his black beard and mustache. The scarlet armor had shrunk enough to fit snugly around the new figure, but the frightening glow of the amber eyes remained.

  Racker breathed a sigh of relief and ran his fingers over his right cheek.

  “Finally,” he whispered, voice once again normal. “Finally! You damned demon! I’ve missed the warmth of my own body... And other bodies...”

  Amber eyes slid over Ash’s shoulder. The mage was sure that Racker was looking and Alice and Mary. Lari’s teeth gritted faintly, but even he was unable to break free from the magic chains that held him pinned down.

  “And now—”

  There was a yelp of pain and a clatter. Racker had let go of the staff and was looking at the black burn on his palm. The red-hot staff rolled on the floor, and flew to Ash. It froze in front of him as if apologizing for the momentary betrayal. The mage smiled warmly and called for it in his mind. The staff showered him with scarlet sparks and took its place in his hand.

  “Demon!” Racker exclaimed, and then spoke a Word. The burn mark on his hand dissolved in a whirl of black flakes. Mages who carried the name of fire in their hearts could always be distinguished from the rest by the fact that they could control any of its forms — even wounds.

  “Take out your weapon,” Ash said.

  Racker straightened up and held out his hand. His old staff, topped with a spike tempered in the blood of his victims, flew out of the wall, smashing through granite and metal. The two mages faced each other.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this moment,” Racker said with a grin. “Do you feel it, my friend? Do you feel how the blood boils? How the heart beats faster? How the mind is clouded with rage?” I know you do.”

  Ash sai
d nothing and lowered his eyes.

  “Whatever you say or do,” Racker continued. “No matter how hard you try to atone for your sins, I know who you are. You’re the general of the Seventh Legion! A murder, a traitor, a desecrator of temples and graves! The man who has killed hundreds and tortured even more! You’re the one who burned down Zadastra and gave me the power I wield today.”

  “No,” Ash said, and lifted his head, pulling off the black scarf with his free hand. Ashen hair fell like a waterfall over his shoulders, followed by something small and blue. “I am the Master of a Thousand Words, the twelfth Master of the Order. A guest of the feast in the Crystal Forest, slayer of Hu-Chin! I’m the one who walked this continent from one end to another, who saw wonderful things, and met amazing people, who fought with the Titans and defeated the Giants. The one who listened to the fae, and the one who gambled for his life with the Demon Master.”

  As he spoke, his voice grew stronger and louder. The walls shook, and the enchanted metal crumbled. Swirls of power gathered around the young mage, made of energy so wild that it became visible to the naked eye in its fury. A turquoise tornado of magic enveloped his figure.

  It struck the distant vault and pierced it like an arrow, shooting up into the gloomy sky. Touching the black clouds, it twisted them like dough. Lightning flashed and thunder struck.

  “I’m Ash!” His voice seemed to come from everywhere. From the stones, the statues, from the torches, and even the air itself. Loud and resonant, it penetrated every cell of the body and rang like an alarm bell. “The greatest mage of the Drunken Monk era!”

  “The greatest?” Racker chuckled, gathering a similar tornado around himself. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

  Both storms disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Ash waved his staff, and the adventurers were dragged away into the furthest corner of the hall. Alice woke up and immediately covered her friends with a golden dome, under which the glow of the Dragon’s Wing could be seen once again. No one dared to interfere — the pressure of the magic alone prevented them from breathing normally, squeezing their hearts like a steel vice.