Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (ink book reader .txt) 📕

“A hellish thing,” Blackbeard spat.

No one even tried to shut him up with a bun or pie — everyone was too shocked by what happened. However, the oppressive atmosphere was dispelled by the music pouring from everywhere, as well as Raland’s avalanche-like laughter.

“Perhaps that was a sign for her to finally retire!” he joked.

“Yeah,” Lari said. He had already forgotten about the incident and was glaring at Ash again. Not that he envied the mage... Ah, who was he kidding? Of course he did.

The feast continued, and no one thought to ask Alice what the old Irba had predicted.

Chapter 44

The following morning

A sh awoke with a headache. Carefully getting out of the arms of his last night’s lover, he slowly got out of the tent, and then walk about a dozen yards to where the Stumps were.

Mary at first forbade Alice to treat Ash’s hangover with magic, but soon changed her anger to mercy.

“Alice, you’re a miracle worker,” Ash said, relieved. He winked at the girl and pulled a tulip out of the air with a wide swing of his arm. “Here’s a present.”

The girl accepted the flower and tucked it into her hair. The mage gave her a thumbs-up as a sign of approval.

“That’s enough,” Mary said sternly, adjusting her scabbard. “We should get ready and hit the road.”

The travelers, taking into account the wishes of their leader, fooled around a little more and then started packing. Lari took the longest to get up. He was late, as usual, and didn’t wake up until the Aqueals had rolled up most of their tents.

As a result, Mary almost fined him, but she was distracted by Zayum who arrived with their horses. Including Guido, who walked slightly behind the rest.

“Come on,” Ash whispered, tugging at his friend’s mane and feeding him a piece of fresh meat. “We’re almost there.”

Guido snorted, but kept himself in check and didn’t gallop off to race with the birds and the wind. The mage mounted his horse, tied the knots in his scarf, and waited for the others.

“Your horses, my lady.” Zayum bowed. Only a blind man wouldn’t have noticed that Mary’s lips parted slightly — she clearly liked the young man. “Washed and fed.” He nodded in Guido’s direction. “He kept trying to eat our stable boy instead of grass.”

“He’s like that,” Tul said, climbing onto the cart. “You’re lucky he’s in a good mood. I remember when Blackbeard almost lost a chunk of his right ear...”

He wasn’t allowed to finish. However, chewing a fruit cake, he didn’t seem too upset about it. When everyone was seated in their saddles, Zayum led the squad to the head of the caravan. The rolled-up tents and all of the equipment had long since been put away into the carts, while most of the old and the young were seated in carts that looked like small houses on wheels. They even had windows.

Soon, the caravan was on its way to Erld. In the rear were the travelers not yet accepted as guests of the Aqueals. They didn’t know it yet, but their bags and purses were much lighter after the last night’s feast.

The true art of theft wasn’t stealing, but making the victim unaware of their misfortune and part with the thief as with a close friend. And, by the Gods, there were no thieves, acrobats, and actors more skillful and talented than the Aqueals anywhere under the light of Irmaril.

Ignoring the creaking of the wheels, the squeaking of the springs, and the chorus of voices, Ash watched Alice as she carefully read something in one of her books. No matter what anyone thought, it wasn’t a simple book, of which there were enough in any retail store.

No, it was a book of magic with yellow, worn-out pages covered with a leather binding adorned with symbols. Some said that the more tattered one’s book was, the better the mage they were.

Mages usually used ancient runes to write down the Words they knew on parchment. Much less often they wrote entire spells and magical formulae. Books were often stolen and were the most popular items on the black market, so mages didn’t want their spells to fall into the wrong hands.

“Anything interesting in there?” Ash smiled, peeking over Alice’s shoulder.

“Shoo,” she said playfully, covering her notes with her hand.

“Awh, you don’t trust me?”

“Mom taught me not to trust pretty boys.”

“How rude!” Ash sniffed and turned away. Once he turned back, his face was crooked in an awful grimace. “How about now?”

Alice did her best not to laugh, but she failed. Ash, pleased with the result, squeezed Guido’s sides a little, spurring him on. The river was close, so why not try to lighten everyone’s mood a little?

“Such much to do, so little time,” Ash said sadly, trying to figure out how to cheer up Blackbeard.

While he was causing mischief, he kept glancing over at Alice, who was trying to think up or learn a new Word. He couldn’t help but smile, he had been in her shoes. Well, his knowledge was much deeper than hers, but more on that later.

By the time the caravan reached the river — a strip of brilliant blue cutting through a field of emerald — Ash had listened to a couple of Mary’s lectures, smoked a few pipes with Blackbeard, talked politics with Tul, and napped with Lari.

Ash couldn’t help but feel as if an angry artist had attacked the canvas in a fit of passion-fueled rage, and then looked at it, realized that he had done a good job, and left it alone. The Erld — a stormy stream, on its shallowest and narrowest point became quiet and serene, but never lost its grandeur.