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

“Everyone’s closet has at least one skeleton in it.” Tul shrugged.

“Well they ain’t looking at us, that much I can tell you.” Blackbeard waved him away.

“Continue like this, and we’ll run out not only fruit cakes and bread buns, but food in general,” Mary warned.

Blackbeard sighed and looked over at Ash.

“Well, it could’ve been worse...”

At that moment, Tul finally calmed down and, swallowing noisily, wiped the sweat from his forehead and pointed somewhere to the side.

“Is this bad enough?!”

The crowd turned and froze. Ash, opening one eye, strung a list of curses so colorful that a longshoreman would’ve blushed hearing them. The ferry groaned, made several jerks, and then stopped altogether. No matter how many people pushed with the pole, it wouldn’t budge. It was as if something was holding it in place. Something that was rapidly approaching them.

About twenty yards in height, created from animated streams of water, this something appeared in the form of a two-headed snake. Its fangs were two whirls that could cut through armor with the strength of a miner’s drill. Instead of scales, it had streams of water that flew contrary to the laws of physics, from the bottom up.

“An elemental!” one of the travelers yelled.

“No!” Ash croaked, peering into the eyes filled with emerald mist. “It’s a spirit... It’s the spirit of the river Erld!”

“It can’t be!” shouted a berserker with blue tattoos on his face. “Spirits never act on their own!”

The mages, having recovered from the initial shock, began to cast spells in attempts to break the spirit’s connection to its summoner. Soon, the air was trembling with magic. Silver sickles made of wind currents flew toward the snake, and vines that emerged from the water wrapped themselves tightly around it.

The serpent shivered under the storm and hissed deafeningly, causing people to cover their ears. Golden fire rained down upon the beast but it seemed unbothered by it.

“It can’t be!” the berserker repeated, clutching his huge battle-ax with magic runes shining red on its blades.

Twisting, the beast roared and then its left head opened its mouth, sending a shower of water bullets at the ferry and its passengers, who, having reacted too late, screamed in pain and horror. Their wounds ranged from holes the size of a pea, to those the size of a big apple. The planks cracked, sending splinters into the air, and the sail instantly turned into a sieve.

There was a moment of silence. People stared at the deck covered with blood as the water around the hull began to turn a pale pink. Blackbeard was the first to react; he snatched a shield from the cart and cast Dragon’s Wing before the next volley came rushing at them, covering the deck in a steady shimmer.

“Shields up!” he roared.

Those who managed to come to their senses were quick to grab shields and cast a variety of defensive skills that merged into one strong dome that covered the ferry. Attacks that managed to break through fell on the shields. The defenders felt their legs tremble and hands shake, but none of them dared lower their shield.

Healers, including Alice, tried to help the wounded, but they didn’t have enough strength, time, or space to save all of them. Women and children screamed and cried, the elderly tried to help, but only got in the way, and cattle ran amok, trying to escape the tenacious grip of the leather belts that held them in place.

Some managed to flee by jumping off the ferry, only to die in the river’s cold embrace. After the first defender faltered, weakening the defense, a little more than a dozen corpses lay scattered on the deck. Three children huddled under the bodies of two women who tried to protect them, and seven Ternites, who fell in battle.

The adventurers couldn’t believe their eyes, unprepared for the fact that death and danger could be waiting for them on the quiet ferry ride. Unable to stand this cruel twist of fate, many succumbed to rage. Grabbing their weapons, they rained blow upon blow on the spirit. But all their bullets, arrows, and spells, passed through the river without causing it the slightest bit of damage.

“...Seum. Rasto. Urgaberi. Urculum!” Ash finished whispering the twenty-two Words that formed one of the most powerful spells in his arsenal, and hit the deck with his staff.

The ferry shuddered with the power that had been summoned into the mortal realm. A wave of energy passed through the water, turning its turbulent surface into that of a mirror. From under the mage’s staff, a murder of crows emerged, spreading a net made of smoke that was stronger than the chains that the Gods had bound the Dark Ones with. The birds charged at their enemy, slowing down the serpent’s onslaught.

The mage swayed and wiped the blood from his nose. Due to the circumstances of his birth and origin, he wasn’t like most mages, so, for him, casting spells was the most difficult part of the craft. Even the most powerful of mages would’ve had a difficult time summoning forth Hell’s Crows.

“How...?” Mary asked, supporting him as Ash tried not to fall over.

“I’m fine,” he assured her with a smile.

“That’s... That’s not what I meant. I mean... How did you do that?!” she exclaimed and pointed at the serpent that was struggling to break free from its bonds. The crows were still holding the beast at bay, but it was only a matter of time before the spell’s effect wore off.

“Ah, that... Just an old artifact,” Ash lied, handing her a handful of ash. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Mary didn’t have time for a thorough analysis, which was probably why she nodded, yanked Ash to his feet, and did what she did best — bring order into chaos.

“Warriors and defenders!” she shouted, drawing her sword. “Don’t lower