Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (essential reading .txt) 📗

dragon, as if he really were a huge snake, coiled, laying his powerful head on his even more powerful body.

Ash looked up and noticed that glimmering between the dragon’s claws was a blue pearl so large that it could easily be mistaken for a glacier.

“Then, great and mighty one, let me offer you a deal. If you eat me now, you won’t get more powerful. As you have justly and wisely pointed out, I’m only a wretched worm. Just a speck of dust compared to your power.”

“You suggest that I spare you? Do you think I am stupid enough to buy this nonsense?” The dragon’s roar caused blood to flow from Ash’s ears, and when the mighty jaws snapped above his head, he felt the blood mix with his sweat.

“No! Nothing of the sort, great and mighty one!” he exclaimed, flattening himself to the floor in an attempt to reassure the dragon of his respect. “You can eat me whenever you please! I’m just saying that now may not be the best time for that because I’m weak!”

The serpent stopped snarling and fuming. He coiled up again and stared at the mage.

“Yes... You are right. You are too weak to make me stronger. To satiate my hunger, perhaps, but no more than that.”

Ash was silent, waiting for the dragon to ask the final question. He knew that the dragon was by no means stupid or short-sighted, just greedy. As all of them were.

“What do you suggest then?”

Ash gathered his courage.

“Train me!” he blurted out.

“What?!” he roared. “Train a worm?!”

The young mage rose from the ground and leaned on his staff, knowing that there would be no turning back this time.

“If you, the greatest and most powerful one, teach me all the tricks of magic and how to tame the elements, then you will consume so much energy that you’ll become more powerful than you’ve ever been.”

The dragon leaped up and approached Ash. His fangs were so close to his face that the mage could see his reflection of them, and his acrid breath brought tears to his eyes. The dragon sniffed the air, making his nostrils flutter like the sails of a galleon.

“Yes...” he drawled. “I can smell fire in your heart... Hmm... The Al’Krair of the Black Flame has been indulging himself a bit too much lately... He believes that if I prefer solitude in these far-away lands, that I am too weak to fight for my territory.

Oh, if he only knew how wrong he is! How dare he, the one who had defiled his body with wings, speak so of me?! So be it then! I shall train you and then devour you, and finally prove to the Council that I am not weak! Listen, worm! From now on, you will be called the disciple of the great one, the original dragon, the Blue Flame, one of the dozen bearers of color – Master Hu-Chin!”

The serpent spewed out a column of blue flame that melted a large niche in the wall in a fraction of a second. Ash didn’t know it yet, but it was in this niche that he’d spend the next six months. And Hu-Chin didn’t know yet that he was training the one who’d not be his dinner, but his undoing. And the people of the Kingdoms couldn’t imagine that it was this dialogue that would start what would later be known as “The Legend of Ash.”

Chapter 50

1st Day of the Month of Lust, 322 A.D., Foothills

T he storm had subsided on the third day of their journey through the pass, and the party now enjoyed a serene mountain scenery. The snow carpet covered all the cracks and sharp rocks, wrapping them like a fluffy and deceptively warm blanket. A light breeze played with the snowflakes, twirling them in a chaotic dance. Mountain peaks stared proudly at the granite sky, as if daring them to come closer.

Sometimes, a howl of a mountain wolf would reach their ears. Sometimes, the drums of the mountain trolls could be heard. At such times, the squad lurked like a group of experienced burglars. No one wanted to risk their lives again.

After the terrible blizzard and the ensuing avalanche, some areas of the pass had changed dramatically, and the map that they had was now useless. Tul had to run forward every now and then to see if they were going the right way or if they needed to change direction.

Ash, looking at his cloaked companions, thought only of the warm, slightly tart hnes and the equally warm Aqueal lady. Technically, he had two things on his mind, but that wasn’t the point.

“Another couple of days at this pace,” Blackbeard muttered, looking longingly at his once-luxurious beard. Because of the cold, wind, and the snow, it turned into a huge icicle, clanking merrily against his heavy armor. “I’ll have to change my nickname...”

“Baby-face!” Ash exclaimed, bouncing up and down on one leg. Why he did that, no one knew. Perhaps not even he.

“Pft, look who’s saying.” Mary snorted.

“Hey, I’ll let you know that I’m mature in all the right places,” Ash retorted, frowning.

The boys laughed and the girls blushed. Alice in particular. Her reddish cheeks seemed surreal against the blinding white of the snow and gaping holes of the caves that beckoned tired travelers into their deceptive calm.

This friendly batter could’ve continued all the way to the Mountains, but Tul, who emerged from around a bend, cut their joking on a rather inappropriate topic short with his appearance.

It was hard to imagine a situation in which a seasoned tracker, a famous archer, and a born marksman would match the color of the white blanket that covered the entire Rezaliks mountain chain. Unfortunately, this turned out to be one of those moments when Tul couldn’t boast of his ancestors’ endurance.