Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Kirill Klevanski (reading books for 6 year olds .TXT) 📖

Stepping over the blood, guts, and corpses, the two made their way to the altar where the priests were already being slaughtered and offerings collected to be sold on the black market. Ash picked up the scroll that the high priest had dropped and went to the wall behind the altar. There had to be some secret mechanism that’d lead them to the cellars. But where was it?

“Are there any priests left?” Ash asked

Racker looked at the carnage.

“Yes.”

“Bring him here.”

Nodding, the lieutenant let out a sharp whistle and waved his arm. After a moment, the body of a young man was thrown at Ash’s feet. He was probably the same age as him, if not a little bit younger. Brown eyes stared fearfully through black locks damp with blood. He couldn’t believe that there was anyone evil enough to desecrate a temple in this manner.

“How do I get to the basement?”

“I don’t know,” the young man croaked and bent over in pain when Racker kicked him in the stomach.

“I have a little problem,” Ash said. “I have a lot of men. You see, they haven’t felt the warm embrace of a woman for a very long time... And it seems to me that there aren’t enough of them here for all of my hard-working soldiers. So, either you start talking or I’ll give you to those who like the embrace of young men, too.”

It took the acolyte just a moment to make his decision.

“The entrance is under the altar,” he muttered. Racker cut off his head before he could even plead to be spared.

Ash glanced at the heavy table and nodded to his friend. Surrounded in flame, he tried to push the altar away, but it didn’t budge.

“Hmmm,” he drawled, looking at the puzzled Racker. “Told you that beauty lies in simplicity.”

Stepping closer, he pressed his foot to the small ledge at the base of the altar. There was a creak, followed by the low rumble of gears turning. The altar slid aside, revealing a hole and a winding staircase.

Without a word, Racker stepped forth, formed a small fireball on the top of his staff, and led the way down. Ash followed in silence. One could still control the elements even without a staff, but it was so difficult that even the Archmage would struggle to do it.

It was only when he entered the cellar filled with gold and jewels that he finally realized that as soon as he got what the king had asked for, his service in the army would come to an end. Following Racker, who ignored all the treasures around them thinking that they were cursed, he thought about the future. What should he do once he got back? Continue his studies? Go on a journey perhaps? Yes, that sounded like a good idea. Whatever would take him far from his mentors and their endless lessons.

“General,” Racker said breathlessly.

The two stopped in front of a chest made of an unknown, transparent material. A sphere pulsed inside, filling it with the legendary white flame. According to legend, only the greatest of mages could tame it.

“That’s...”

“The Dragon’s Essence,” Ash said, nodding. What stood before him was the spirit of fire, imprisoned within a magic sphere.

Without hesitation, he tore his cloak off his shoulders and wrapped the chest in it. For some reason, he wasn’t afraid that removing it from its spot would activate some sort of a trap. Something inside told him that everything would be all right.

As he walked out of the basement, he didn’t notice the greedy look with which Racker was eyeing the bundle in his hands. Little did he know that this moment of carelessness would be the spark that’d start the fire of change.

Back in the temple, Ash told his men that they were free to plunder to their heart’s content and set toward the gates. However, he didn’t manage to get further than the temple’s door. Racker came running to him, dragging behind him a girl that had been hiding in a niche behind the now broken statue.

“Listen, give me a couple of moments,” he said.

Ash looked down at the poor girl. Even blood and soot failed to hide her beauty.

“Want some?” Racker asked, seeing Ash eyeing her.

The girl didn’t kick or scream, only gritted her teeth tightly. She was staring at them with such intent that if she had been a mage, she would’ve probably caused them to burst into flames with her gaze alone.

“No,” Ash replied.

“More for me!” He heard as he turned and walked away.

A woman’s scream echoed through the streets, followed by a loud yelp. Ash glanced over his shoulder and couldn’t help but grin. Bloody comb in her hand, she was staring at Racker who had covered his face with his hand. Cursing, he cupped her face with his free one. There was a bloodcurdling scream. The sound of hissing and the stench of burnt flesh filled the air. Racker moved his hand and dropped down the girl, her face now disfigured by an ugly scar in the shape of a gauntlet.

“Nobody touch her!” he yelled. Four deep cuts ran down his forehead, over his left eye and cheek. “Let her live... Death would be too merciful of a fate for a whore like her.”

Ash shook his head. The battle was over and the king’s order fulfilled. So why were his hands shaking and chest hurting?

“I’m probably just tired...” he thought and made his way through the burning ruins of what would soon become a ghost town.

Chapter 32

4th of Zund, 322 A.D., Kingdom of Arabist, Zadastra

B lackbeard and Ash put the boxes, the tubes, and the trunk onto their cart, bribed their horses with