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

Ancient as the realms themselves, it seemed to gaze with mute superiority at the countless travelers who looked like ants next to it. They were scrambling over the azure serpent, who was dismissively allowing them to pass. It seemed that if the river truly had feelings, it would be indifferent to the creatures that crossed it, because ahead of it were the Seven Seas, waters full of blood, and secrets, and a beast much more terrible than it ever would be.

Ash ran his fingers over his old, but still strong staff. He felt uneasy. Something was causing shivers to run his spine, but he didn’t know what. There weren’t many things in the lands from the left of the horizon that could frighten him.

Guido snorted nervously and hit the ground with his hoof.

“Hush,” Ash whispered, leaning close to his companion’s ears. “Calm down.”

The horse, though no longer nervous, started breathing more heavily and moved its head as if searching for danger.

“Is everything all right?” Tul asked as the cart drew next to Ash. “You look exhausted.”

“I guess...” The mage drawled. “Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel... what?”

He stared at Tul’s calm face, then looked around at all the horses. Seeing that they were calm, he felt a little better himself.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, smiling a little stiffly.

“What was in your pipe, eh?” Blackbeard poked fun and gave the mage a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Despite his good intentions, Ash almost screamed in pain and grimaced as he rubbed his sore arm. His reaction caused another wave of laughter.

“Can you keep it down?!” Lari shouted.

“I’m trying to read here!” Alice added.

It was only through great willpower and self-control that the trio didn’t laugh again. Though, this was probably thanks to Mary, in whose eyes shone the threat of deducing each chuckle, snicker, giggle, and snort from their pays. She was still bitter about having to pay the toll for crossing the river.

So, holding back the laughter, the squad continued to the ferry. Ash stared at it wide-eyed, having never seen such a contraption in his life before. He had seen ports so huge that some capitals looked no bigger than a village in comparison. He had seen cities so tiny that they could fit into a shell of a walnut, and their inhabitants onto the tip of a pine needle. He had seen a lot of things, but he had never seen people carry around a dismantled ferry in their carts and wagons.

Stopping at the shore, the Aqueals pulled out boards, logs, felt and hemp ropes from their carts and constructed a ferry in under half an hour. The resulting structure looked more like a raft, to which a low sail and steering wheel had been attached, but it served its purpose well.

The Stumps dismounted and pulled their horses into the logs, which were hastily covered with planks. It was necessary to cross in several stages, since there was no way that the ferry could hold almost three hundred people, not counting their luggage, carts, and mounts. Women, children, the travelers, and the horses went first, together with several Aqueals, led by Raland. Ash was the last to board, and as soon as he put his foot onto the deck, Guido whinnied nervously, and a strong gust of cold wind furled the sail, coiling it like a snake. Ash blinked and the sail was back to normal again.

“Is your horse all right?” Mary hissed, pulling Ash back on board.

“Yeah... He just... doesn’t like water.”

When they were all gathered on the deck, Raland gave the signal and several powerful men grasped the thick, long pole and pushed it against the riverbed. The ferry shuddered and the ropes snapped as the tree swelled with water, but the structure held. It wasn’t more than twenty yards to the other bank, which was less than an hour of sailing with good wind and a calm current. Still, Ash was nervous. As a wielder of fire, being so close to his natural enemy, he couldn’t help feel like his life was in danger. His powers would weaken the moment he’d step foot into a puddle, so he didn’t even want to think what could happen if he fell into the river.

Despite his concerns, the ferry, accompanied by the whaling of ropes and sails, slowly approached its destination. Ash closed his eyes, gripped his staff, and slowly moved his lips, reciting ancient prayers in a language forgotten by humans, once spoken by now dead Gods.

“I don’t like this,” Blackbeard muttered, tucking his favorite comb into his bosom.

“You ain’t one of them...” Tul commented and nodded in the direction of one of the elves.

Tall and handsome, with fair skin and golden hair, he was the personification of the elven stereotype. However, no one paid attention to Tul’s comment, as they all knew that elves never played the good guys in his stories.

“Maybe he’s seasick,” Mary said with a slight note of malice in her voice as she looked over in Blackbeard’s direction.

“You’re evil, Mary, simply evil,” Blackbeard said, shaking his head. “You have no love for your friends or compassion for their suffering.”

“What are you now, a preacher?”

“Gods forbid!” He snickered. “But, you know, it wouldn’t hurt to let some of their light into your black heart and—”

“I know what’s going on,” Lari interrupted them, rolling up the scroll and putting it away. He realized that there was no way that he’d be able to do any work around here. “He’s been arguing with theologians about faith again.”

“If only I had listened to them!” Blackbeard exclaimed. Everyone else just rolled their eyes. “How can you believe in the Gods? See this river? Do you see how much water there is in it? That’s about the same amount of blood that’s being shed on a daily basis! Where are these Gods