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

“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