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

“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