In a heartbeat, Ash was on his feet, a ray of sunlight dancing in his hands. The staff made of Aramia wood responded to his summons and poured out its fire magic. The mage looked like a snarling wolf, ready to leap. However, compared to his opponent, he wasn’t even a cub; but an ant, a speck of dust in the sand.
At first he thought he was dreaming and that he was trapped in some horrid nightmare, but after a moment, when the heat of someone else’s flames seared his face, it became clear that this was all terribly real. Ash was in the center of a huge cavern with a flat ceiling and walls that were too smooth.
He had found himself in a dragon’s abode.
“Interesting,” rumbled a voice so deep and loud that Ash had to restrain himself from shouting and covering his ears with his hands. “How interesting...”
A huge head, the size of a wealthy man’s house, appeared in the light. It was crowned with eight horns, had a reddish mane that looked like a young forest, a stringy mustache the length of a small river, and a pair of bright orange eyes. It was definitely a dragon; one with a long, serpentine body, and no wings. However, it had scales so strong and sharp that they could cut through a diamond, a body so hot that it could melt a glacier faster than a group of fire-wielding mages, claws the size of spears wielded by giants, and fangs like arrows of a ballista. It was still too early to speak of its flame, and if Ash was lucky, he’d never have to learn its color.
These serpentine dragons were so old that they still remembered the era, and so rare that they each had their own color — orange, red, blue, black, and yellow. A fool would think that this determined their power, but a smart man would know that it spoke of nothing other than their status. They say that the head of the legendary White Dragons was a descendant of these scaly beasts.
“What a strange meal,” the dragon rumbled, writhing like a snake. A huge, deadly snake. “It is rare to find food with magic in these mountains...”
Ash’s knees trembled, his hands shook, and sweat dripped down his forehead. He knew that there was no chance that he’d be able to defeat the dragon if it attacked him. Especially an ancient one, who was stronger than a young God.
“Do you, great and mighty Lord of the Sky, feed of puny humans?” Ash managed to mutter through his clattering teeth.
He needed to stall for time, needed to wait a bit to come up with a plan. Maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to survive. “I thought you ate only chaste maidens, and—” He bit his tongue just in time, aware that he would’ve said too much or something rather rude if he continued.
“Goats?” the dragon finished. Ash was about to kiss his life goodbye, but the serpent only laughed. His thundering laughter shook the walls, making the stone crumble off the ceiling. “Tell me, worm, how many goats or maidens a day would it take to satisfy my hunger?”
Looking at the dragon’s body, which was almost a mile long and wide as forty men, he found his answer very quickly. He suspected that it’d take at least all the livestock in the vicinity of the Eastern Territory to feed him. That was without mentioning the chaste maidens, as the entire population of Thirteen Kingdoms wouldn’t have enough young girls to keep the dragon fed for a week.
“I see you have found your answer,” the dragon growled. Its every word was accompanied by a cloud of sparks and fumes spilling from between its teeth.
What should one even do in this kind of situation? What should he do? Play dead? Fall unconscious? Turn white from fear? Try to escape? Rush into a suicidal attack? Perhaps he should’ve done one of those, but Ash was driven by the only two emotions that he had known since the moment he was born. And one of those was curiosity.
“Then what do you eat, great and mighty one?” he asked, perplexed.
The dragon laughed again. The young mage brushed away a rock that was about to fall on his head.
“A conversation before a meal!” the dragon roared, releasing a jet of smoke and ash. “Ah, how wonderful! But it won’t get you far. Listen to me, mortal. Dragons do not feast on meat, blood, leaves, and earth, as your kin does. We feast on power! On Ternites! And there is no greater feast than the power of those you call mages.”
The dragon shook the cavern with its laughter one last time and towered above the cowering young man. His eyes shone like Irmaril at dawn, and its fangs dripped with yellow saliva, more venomous than any potion in an assassin’s arsenal. Ash realized that even he, with his vast pool of energy, couldn’t hope to defeat this monster. So, he had to rely on the only thing he had left — his cunning, which had saved him on the battlefield more than once.
“O, great and mighty one,” he said, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to the ground. “Your flame is hotter than the light of the sky wanderer, your fangs and claws sharper than the coldest of winters, and mind cleaner and clearer than a spring stream!”
The dragon leaned his head to the side and looked curiously at the young mage.
“Do not delay the inevitable, worm! I will eat you even if your speech is sweeter than molasses!”
“I don’t doubt it, great and mighty one!” His heart was pounding so fast that Ash felt like there was no pause between the beats. “But I have a suggestion!”
“A suggestion? Well... I have not spoken with anyone in a very long time, so I will let this farce drag on for a while. And the fact that you are holding a piece of Primrose has intrigued me. I am listening.”
Ash gathered his courage, put his thoughts in order, and decided to cling to the straw he had been given. He had nothing else to hold on to, anyway.
“O, great and mighty one, I dare say that the more power you consume, the stronger you become!”
“And you are clever... For a worm, of course.” The dragon, as if he really were a huge snake, coiled, laying his powerful head on his even more powerful body.
Ash looked up and noticed that glimmering between the dragon’s claws was a blue pearl so large that it could easily be mistaken for a glacier.
“Then, great and mighty one, let me offer you a deal. If you eat me now, you won’t get more powerful. As you have justly and wisely pointed out, I’m only a wretched worm. Just a speck of dust compared to your power.”
“You suggest that I spare you? Do you think I am stupid enough to buy this nonsense?” The dragon’s roar caused blood to flow from Ash’s ears, and when the mighty jaws snapped above his head, he felt the blood mix with his sweat.
“No! Nothing of the sort, great and mighty one!” he exclaimed, flattening himself to the floor in an attempt to reassure the dragon of his respect. “You can eat me whenever you please! I’m just saying that now may not be the best time for that because I’m weak!”
The serpent stopped snarling and fuming. He coiled up again and stared at the mage.
“Yes... You are right. You are too weak to make me stronger. To satiate my hunger, perhaps, but no more than that.”
Ash was silent, waiting for the dragon to ask the final question. He knew that the dragon was by no means stupid or short-sighted, just greedy. As all of them were.
“What do you suggest then?”
Ash gathered his courage.
“Train me!” he blurted out.
“What?!” he roared. “Train a worm?!”
The young mage rose from the ground and leaned on his staff, knowing that there would be no turning back this time.
“If you, the greatest and most powerful one, teach me all the tricks of magic and how to tame the elements, then you will consume so much energy that you’ll become more powerful than you’ve ever been.”
The dragon leaped up and approached Ash. His fangs were so close to his face that the mage could see his reflection of them, and his acrid breath brought tears to his eyes. The dragon sniffed the air, making his nostrils flutter like the sails of a galleon.
“Yes...” he drawled. “I can smell fire in your heart... Hmm... The Al’Krair of the Black Flame has been indulging himself a bit too much lately... He believes that if I prefer solitude in these fa
r-away lands, that I am too weak to fight for my territory.
Oh, if he only knew how wrong he is! How dare he, the one who had defiled his body with wings, speak so of me?! So be it then! I shall train you and then devour you, and finally prove to the Council that I am not weak! Listen, worm! From now on, you will be called the disciple of the great one, the original dragon, the Blue Flame, one of the dozen bearers of color – Master Hu-Chin!”
The serpent spewed out a column of blue flame that melted a large niche in the wall in a fraction of a second. Ash didn’t know it yet, but it was in this niche that he’d spend the next six months. And Hu-Chin didn’t know yet that he was training the one who’d not be his dinner, but his undoing. And the people of the Kingdoms couldn’t imagine that it was this dialogue that would start what would later be known as “The Legend of Ash.”
Chapter 50
1st Day of the Month of Lust, 322 A.D., Foothills
T he storm had subsided on the third day of their journey through the pass, and the party now enjoyed a serene mountain scenery. The snow carpet covered all the cracks and sharp rocks, wrapping them like a fluffy and deceptively warm blanket. A light breeze played with the snowflakes, twirling them in a chaotic dance. Mountain peaks stared proudly at the granite sky, as if daring them to come closer.
Sometimes, a howl of a mountain wolf would reach their ears. Sometimes, the drums of the mountain trolls could be heard. At such times, the squad lurked like a group of experienced burglars. No one wanted to risk their lives again.
After the terrible blizzard and the ensuing avalanche, some areas of the pass had changed dramatically, and the map that they had was now useless. Tul had to run forward every now and then to see if they were going the right way or if they needed to change direction.
Ash, looking at his cloaked companions, thought only of the warm, slightly tart hnes and the equally warm Aqueal lady. Technically, he had two things on his mind, but that wasn’t the point.
“Another couple of days at this pace,” Blackbeard muttered, looking longingly at his once-luxurious beard. Because of the cold, wind, and the snow, it turned into a huge icicle, clanking merrily against his heavy armor. “I’ll have to change my nickname...”
“Baby-face!” Ash exclaimed, bouncing up and down on one leg. Why he did that, no one knew. Perhaps not even he.
“Pft, look who’s saying.” Mary snorted.
“Hey, I’ll let you know that I’m mature in all the right places,” Ash retorted, frowning.
The boys laughed and the girls blushed. Alice in particular. Her reddish cheeks seemed surreal against the blinding white of the snow and gaping holes of the caves that beckoned tired travelers into their deceptive calm.
This friendly batter could’ve continued all the way to the Mountains, but Tul, who emerged from around a bend, cut their joking on a rather inappropriate topic short with his appearance.
It was hard to imagine a situation in which a seasoned tracker, a famous archer, and a born marksman would match the color of the white blanket that covered the entire Rezaliks mountain chain. Unfortunately, this turned out to be one of those moments when Tul couldn’t boast of his ancestors’ endurance.
Pale, face the color of a lime, he tried to say something but only opened and closed his mouth, pointing with his hand somewhere to the side.
“What is it?” Mary asked, concerned.
“S-S-Sn,” he stammered.
“We know what we’re surrounded by,” Blackbeard said, but no one laughed.
“Gi-Gi...” Seeing that he was getting nowhere with his stammering, Tul added pantomime to his performance, which confused his friends even more.
“A mime? There are mimes in the mountain?” Ash said thoughtfully as he watched Tul’s performance.
Something clicked in Mary’s head and she exchanged glances with Lari, whose face was rapidly becoming the same color as Tul’s. In less than a moment, they shouted in unison:
“Snow Giant!”
At first, the party froze. And then, before their hearts could even make a beat, they hurried to prepare themselves. Bags and luggage flew into the snow. Everyone hurried to arm themselves and take a defensive stance. Blackbeard smashed the icicle in his way with his fist and raised his shield, hiding his companions behind the glow of the Dragon’s Wing. Alice was already casting some sort of spell to protect them. Mary and Lari stood shoulder to shoulder, their blades glittering. Tul and Ash moved to the rear, not because they were afraid, but because that was the best spot for long-range attackers.
For the first few seconds, nothing happened. Everyone hoped that Tul had made a mistake, that he had imagined it all, or that the wind, snowfall, and light had played a trick on his eyes. But at the same time, everyone knew that an experienced tracker was never wrong. And thus, in a matter of moments, a terrible roar was heard, followed by a small earthquake. Each step of the titan, which hadn’t yet appeared on the narrow path, shook the ground with such force that one would think that they were standing right above a mine.
The snow on the ground bounced slightly and was picked up by the cheerful wind that ruffled their hair and the hems of their cloaks. Ahead, beyond the precipice, there was nothing to be seen save for a white wall, and to the right, around a bend, a black peak.
“Ready!” Mary shouted and everything froze.
There was no roaring, no tremors, and even the snowflakes seemed to have stopped their dance. They looked like pompous courtiers, waiting to see who had decided to fight at the Royal Ball. Had it not been for the white clouds of steam coming out of the mouths of the travelers, one would think that they, too, had been frozen in time.
And just when they were ready to believe that trouble would pass them by, a powerful roar shook the mountain, and a white hand appeared on the black peak. A huge hand that could crush a siege cannon into a ball of steel gripped the black stone, turning it into an icy needle with just a touch. An even huger head appeared right behind it. It was like a snowball, crowned with icy horns, and eye sockets filled with blue shimmer of meltwater. Before them stood a monster whose breath could freeze your guts to your skeleton.
The giant head moved, staring at the pass until its eyes fell on the miniature figures of the travelers.
“Hold still,” Blackbeard whispered. “Do not move.”
No one dared. No one flinched, sneezed, or, even worse, decided to play snowball with the giant. These titans were like spiders, and the snow was like cobweb. If you touched one “thread,” the host would be notified about the presence of uninvited visitors.
The head seemed to frown and back away when, as luck would have it, things went wrong.
A sharp gust of wind brought snow with it, knocking some off some rocks and over the dumbfounded Stumps. The giant quivered with rage; its eyes shot wide open, blinding them with their radiance, and then a roar came from the gaping maw that was the giant’s mouth, bringing with it an even stronger gust of an even colder wind.
Blackbeard shouted something and the Dragon’s Wing changed color, turning golden. The blue wind hit the exposed shield and the dwarf screamed. He was pushed back a foot or two, but he didn’t give in. Digging his heels into the ground, he left behind two deep furrows in the snow.
The giant screamed again, making the distant slopes tremble, and then it emerged in all its horrific glory. Its fifty-foot tall body was a walking pillar of snow, covered with a glittering ice armor, similar to the one that protected most of the creatures that lived here.
The titan had no weapons. Not that it needed one, anyway, for its claws were more than enough. It had no magic either, just sheer strength, an icy breath, and a foot big enough to crush a mounted troop. It was fourteen tons of malice and unprecedented power.
Like a playful child, it ran its hand along the edge of the mountain, scooping up a small (for it) lump of snow. Taking aim, it snarled and hurled the projectile in the direction of the bugs that dared disturb its peace.
“Air!” Blackbeard yelled,
raising the shield above his head and changing the Dragon Wing’s position from vertical to horizontal.
A block of ice about five feet across hit the wall, driving Blackbeard waist-deep into the snow. Without throwing the shield, the dwarf, with a dissatisfied grunt in which the juiciest of curses could be heard, tried to get out.
The giant began to prepare another attack. Perhaps this time it would squash the bugs as... well, as the bugs they were. But being so huge, the giant wasn’t particularly agile.
Mary and Lari leaped over Blackbeard, who was still digging, and charged. Mary’s rapier flashed crimson, and she fluttered like a butterfly. If an artist were around, they’d paint a wingless Valkyrie soaring toward the Heavens. Her chestnut hair fell over her shoulders and her eyes glittered like steel as she arched her body to strike.
Such a blow could break armor reinforced with enchantments and potions; crumble the walls of a fort; and destroy a spell. But when faced against ice armor, it only left a couple of chips in it. The giant didn’t even notice it, sending another attack at the group.
“Alice!” Ash shouted. “Help!”
The girl nodded. She turned to the wizard and whispered a magic-enhancing spell. Her wand made a strange shape in the air, leaving a golden trail behind it, like a sprinkler.
Ash didn’t feel invigorated. Then again, when your power was enough to turn an Ice Giant into a puddle, only the spells of a High Priest could help you. Still, he nodded in gratitude, and struck the ground with his staff. He had asked Alice for help only so that the power of his spells wouldn’t seem suspicious.
Lari’s blades flashed with fire, turning into two rays of sunlight. Using his favorite technique, The Star of the Lagoon, he lifted himself in the air, and then disappeared. His blades, enhanced by Ash’s magic, proved to be much stronger than a rusty rapier.
Hitting where the tendon would usually be, Lari managed to slow down the Giant. No one was certain how the anatomy of a Giant looked like, but this particular titan didn’t seem too happy about being hit. With a roar, it dropped to one knee.
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 32
