But one day, as the half-forgotten prophecy foretold, the Last King would be born. His veins would be filled with black blood, his eyes, once red would be covered with an icy crust, once red, his hair will be darker than the abyss, and the earth would tremble under his feet. He would unite not only the Thirteen Kingdoms built on the ruins of the past, but also conquer many more lands, creating an Empire of a Hundred Capitals.
Evil would always live nearby, waiting for a good moment to strike. But the great evil... The great evil was born from the great good. The one who would be called the Star King and whose name would be given to his firstborn would become the terror of the unnamed planet. The first and only horseman of the Apocalypse.
The carved staff tapped steadily on the icy floor of the ancient halls. Once upon a time, here, among the tall columns decorated in the form of gigantic figures of great wizards, druids, necromancers, witches, and mages of the past; among the balustrades that overlooked the edge of the world; among the huge halls that were ready to accommodate dozens of balls; among all this splendor lived the mages of the past. They did magic, the kind of which would make a modern mage grimace as if they were suffering a toothache. But despite all of its sloppiness and crudeness, it was still beautiful.
The Order of Graven’Dor devoted itself not to fighting, but to science, art, and history. On the walls, though cracked and hidden in the shadows, you could still see the scenes of the past. Somewhere, a warlord was leading armies into battle, fearlessly looking into the amber eyes of a dragon. In other places, a robed figure, raising a magic sword and sphere above their head, caused the rain to fall, returning life to the dry earth.
Now everything was shrouded in mist and ice. However, wherever the sound of the carved staff was heard, there was also a trickle of drops. Melted water rushed somewhere through the gaps, cleansing the ancient castle of evil spells. Ash was aware of the danger of his actions, but at the same time, he couldn’t help himself.
The young mage, who had always valued beauty, couldn’t allow this place to be lost to witchcraft. Let his breath turn to steam, and legs and arms became blue, but the fire would continue to fight against the ice.
He could’ve cast a powerful spell and tried to win back Graven’Dor from the clutches of the Ice Queen, but sometimes it was better not to wake up a slumbering beast. Perhaps this is what the ballad of the Star King was supposed to teach. Sometimes, heroism led only to universal grief. Sometimes, you needed to look away and continue walking. Well, who better than Ash knew that by helping someone you only give another a reason to hate you.
“What is it this time?” Blackbeard sighed. “The crown has already been joked about. Will-o-wisps?”
“How about snow zombies?” Tul muttered through gritted teeth as he drew back the bowstring until it creaked.
There was a grating sound. A sharp, high-pitched, glass-like screech gradually approached, filling the hall. Ash felt the Stumps tense up, and heard the clanging of metal being drawn from its scabbard. He rubbed his hands together, trying to keep warm and keep out the growing cold.
The enchanted light shook and danced wildly, but it didn’t go out. To break a Master’s spell, it took something stronger than the dead, whose souls had long since turned to snow and whose eyes were now frozen wells.
Soon, the shadows seemed to spit out two figures — servants of Anna’Bre. Once fearless, glorious heroes, they now looked like an experiment of a young necromancer gone wrong. Dozens, if not hundreds of them dragged across the floor their weapons as they made their way to the Stumps. Dwarves and elves, humans and trolls, orcs, and other creatures who gave their warmth to the power of Anna’Bre found eternal life in eternal slavery. Weak-willed dolls, driven by the powers of a witch.
“This is awful,” Mary whispered, startled.
Ash couldn’t disagree with her. A man stepped into the light. Once tall, slender, and broad-shouldered, he was now hunched, blue-faced, and covered with frost. With a rasp, he eagerly reached for the only sources of heat in this abode of cold and darkness. His eyes, covered with a sheet of transparent ice, glowed with a blue haze. Behind him stood an army of people like him. All those who had once despised danger gathered for their next battle. Only this time, they weren’t led by their heart that pumped hot blood through their veins, but by a shard of ice of impeccable purity.
A group of them approached the travelers and then suddenly froze. They raised their enchanted weapons above their heads and opened their mouths in silent screams.
Blackbeard gripped his shield and covered his companions with Dragon’s Wing. Tul was already taking aim at the most dangerous enemies; Mary and Lari had drawn their blades, ready to cut down anyone who came within striking distance. Alice chanted and waved her wand every now and then. With each wave, one of the adventurers was momentarily enveloped in a golden or turquoise glow.
Ash did nothing, only observed carefully as the melted areas of the floor were covered with frost again. It could only mean one thing…
“You’ve come,” a high, beautiful voice rang out. It was as if a celestial nymph had picked up a harp and begun to sing. “Like he said... You came.”
“Who’s there?” Lari asked, swinging the blades in his hand.
Ash didn’t pay attention to the crimson stains appearing on the metal.
“I’ll be damned if it isn’t the Ice Queen,” Blackbeard spat, tightening his grip on his mighty ax.
“My servants,” the cold voice rang out again, “please, welcome our guests.”
Hundreds of zombified heroes simultaneously raised their heads, and their eyes flashed. The darkness hid in the cracks on the walls, retreating before the bright blue, leaving strange azure patterns playing on the arches.
“Beautiful,” Ash thought. “Deadly beautiful.”
“What do you want?!” Mary shouted.
Ash was going to tell her that it was impossible to negotiate with Anna’Bre, but he didn’t have time. He felt his chest and head ache as he sensed the upcoming danger.
Ash turned on his heel, spoke the Word, and struck the ground with his staff. The gust of wind that broke free swept the Stumps away like dust from an old book. He lifted them off the ground, whirled them around in a mad waltz, and carried them away in the opposite direction from the zombies. As the adventurers disappeared into the darkness, Ash smiled slightly and raised his head to look at the ceiling.
A huge cage was falling on him. He didn’t have time to cast a spell, nor to embody one of the Forms. All he could do was face his fate.
With a deafening roar, the icy fangs bit into the masonry, but even the thickness of the black marble didn’t stop the power of the great witch. Ash felt the support disappear from under his feet and he fell into the blackness. Clutching his staff to his chest, he let the cloak wrap around him.
The last thing he saw before the gray flap covered his face was the blue light of a hundred pairs of eyes growing dimmer.
Chapter 54
Some time later, Anna’Bre’s Chambers
A sh was sitting in such a cramped cage that perhaps only his stature saved him from the ache in the rear and the stiffness in his legs. He could stretch them somewhat, but he had to press his head to his shoulder. He could perhaps shrug but then he’d have to bend his knees a little. However, all these inconveniences paled before the lack of a staff in his hands.
As soon as the cage stopped its rapid descent, the staff, as if by magic (and most likely by it) flew out of his hands and floated into the corner of the chamber.
If Ash had once thought that the king had put him in a bedroom the size of a small house, he was now ready to take it back. These chambers were larger than even the most ambitious architect could have imagined. The bed alone took up as much space as Ash’s entire house. Not to mention the boudoir, the giant cupboards, the magic window that opened to up a mesmerizing view of the endless mountain range. And all of it was made of ice. Even the curtains on the wide canopy were made of snowflakes held toget
her by threads, where frozen drops of water were used instead of fiber. It constantly chimed and glittered, making Ash grind his teeth.
It was so bitterly cold that he didn’t even notice that he was shivering. The scanty cloak and his simple clothing couldn’t retain even the smallest spark of warmth. And without his staff, even he was no more powerful than an ordinary human. The name of the fire in his chest slowly faded, wasting the last sparks of his life.
“You know,” said the mystically beautiful voice. It was cold and emotionless, but indescribably melodious. “I expected more from someone named Ash.”
Anna’Bre was as beautiful as her voice. Clad in a sparkling dress made of ice silk, she looked no less mesmerizing than her castle. Her white hair tinkled slightly as he walked. Slightly transparent thin hands, whose skin was more like a crystal of unthinkable purity, played with snow dust that her being emitted. She had blue eyes, thin, white lips, and two arches of miniature snow crystals for eyebrows.
“Helmer said something similar,” Ash said wearily.
“Pfft, that stinking half-breed.” Anna’Bre snorted. By the Gods and spirits, even that contemptuous snort was more like the trickle of a spring brook.
“You two would get along nicely,” Ash mumbled, and immediately regretted it.
“How dare you?!” she screamed, losing all her beauty in an instant and turning into a banshee. “What would I, the great sidhe, the queen of the Winter Court, do with a mediocre half-breed who sold his soul to a demon master?”
Ash paused, watching the reverse metamorphosis. Ice beings weren’t violent or hot-tempered by nature, so he must’ve really struck a chord if he had made her this upset. In less than three heartbeats, she returned to normal.
“Pardon.” She smiled, making the ice melt and form a new layer at the same time. “The fact that I had to put up with him during the Cherry Feast was enough to drive me mad.”
“I understand,” he mumbled.
He was so cold that he had to put a lot of effort into moving his tongue. His throat burned with every word.
“Interesting,” Anna’Bre said, her fathomless eyes flashing. She slowly circled the cage, running her fingers over the icy bars. The dress swayed with her movements, hugging her curves. “I’d warm you, but I can’t.”
“Y-You c-coul-could g-g-giv-e-e m-me b-ba-ack m-my s-ta-a-aff.” His body and teeth trembled, and words moved to the beat of their own drum.
The witch laughed. At any other time, Ash would’ve given anything to hear a woman laugh like that but now he just grimaced and tried to move as far away as possible in his little prison.
“Fire and ice are a beautiful pair only in ballads,” she said. “But I appreciate my neighbor’s attempts to keep the dry wind and warm clouds away from my home. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you your staff back.”
“Is the great queen afraid of a mortal?” Ash blurted out.
She just shook her head.
“You won’t manage to enrage me twice, wizard.” She smiled. “Helmer’s name took me by surprise, but it was your only trump card.”
Ash didn’t say anything — he didn’t even know that the cards had been dealt. In that case, he could cheat a little. All ancient creatures were vain and proud. Perhaps it was time for Anna’Bre to join Hu-Chin.
“Are you gonna kill me?”
She laughed again. As equally charming and delightfully as the first time.
“What would that achieve?”
Ash didn’t immediately understand what he was being asked. Over the years of wandering, after hundreds of different adventures and misadventures, he had accepted the fact that someone was constantly trying to kill him. And if not kill, then eat. Then again, those two were, in essence, the same thing.
“Um... Pleasure?”
This time, she only arched her right eyebrow and smiled slightly.
“You must’ve met seen some strange sidhe, mortal, if you think we enjoy killing.”
“Blue Flame,” Ash said, bending one finger. “Cormac Ahinski, Soputan, Black Flame, Helmer...”
“Don’t you dare call him a sidhe!” she barked and Ash felt a momentary connection with his staff.
Anna’Bre cleared her throat, straightened her snowy hair, and smiled again.
“You’ve never been to the Fair?”
“The land of the fae?” Ash asked.
“Yes.”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I once had a pass to your kingdom, but I exchanged it for dried mushrooms.”
“Dried mushrooms?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yeah,” the mage said. “It was a beautiful pass, of course — emerald and all that, but I was hungry, and I didn’t have any money.”
The witch rolled her eyes and looked at him with pity. Not the way one looked at the hungry and the poor, but the way they give gifts to the crippled and mentally disabled.
“Why would I kill to get something that I can easily get?”
That smile, if it hadn't been cold, would’ve been passionate. Anna’Bre swayed her hips, ran her finger over her wonderfully slender figure, and took a beckoning step back — closer to the bed. Ash swallowed and opened his eyes. He had known many women, from humble maids to great queens, but never before had he had an immortal offer herself to him.
“Oh, my poor, miserable Ash,” she whispered, voice growing warmer.
The cold gradually began to recede, and Anna’Bre came closer. By the Gods and spirits, she seemed to be walking on clouds. A nonexistent wind ruffled her thick, white hair. Her clothes flowed behind her, revealing just enough to fuel the imagination. Ash’s heart skipped beat after beat, his breath got stuck in his throat, and there was nothing in the world but the charming voice and the fathomless blue eyes.
“I know how cruel your fate is.” Oh, that voice... “You are not of the fae or of humans. You’re a poor soul, driven away by everyone.” Oh, those eyes... “Without a home or a family. Without friends, but with a great many enemies. You search but you cannot find.” How sweet and charming her words are. “So why suffer? Why wait for someone to end your life? I’ll end eventually anyway.”
Ash didn’t notice when her hands passed through the ice bars to touched his face. Whether it was his imagination or not, the touch didn’t chill his already blue skin. She wasn’t warm, but she wasn’t cold either. It was both pleasant and different at the same time.
“Just one kiss,” she whispered in his ear. “One kiss and all your worries will go away. No one will touch you here in my abode. Only peace, eternal peace...”
Her lips were so close and so inviting that she didn’t even have to tilt her head forward. It was enough only to want and she’d dink his soul to the bottom, leaving a shard of ice where his heart had once been.
Ash closed his eyes.
The witch screamed and recoiled, and when the mage opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but grin. A rune shone like fire on Anna’Bre’s right cheek. Four triangles held together by a circle — the unity of elements.
“You’re right.” Ash smiled triumphantly. “Ice and fire are a good match only in fairy tales.”
Anna’Bre’s eyes flashed as she shed her mask and lost her grace in an instant. Her hands were crowned with icy claws, her face acquired sharp and rather repulsive features, and instead of teeth she had fangs like those of a piranha.
“Die in that cage then!” she shouted.
A blizzard swept through the hall. The bars of Ash’s cage were covered with icicles, making his “home” even more claustrophobic. The mage ignored the wind and snow, folded his legs, closed his eyes, and began to recite the prayers that he had learned in the monastery. Gradually, the world around him turned into a flower meadow that spread all the way to the foothills of Mazurmana.
The witch screamed, but her voice reached Ash like through thick, muddy water.
“I’ll watch you suffer, you worm!”
And then Ash remembered Liao-Fen’s wisdom. A thought so profound that it could re
place his entire religion. Ash thought about it in the morning, at noon, and evening. He pondered every day and every night and discovered an even deeper meaning each time that left him with new questions.
“That which we see, isn’t forever,” Ash whispered.
“Let’s see which is more eternal — my magic or your will,” Anna’Bre retorted, realizing that the mage was referring to his cage.
“Can you see my will?” the mage asked.
Anna’Bre must’ve said something, but Ash didn’t hear it. In his mind, he was lying in the flowers near his house. Birds sang in the sky and fairies accompanied them in the swaying buds of spring flowers.
***
It had been a long time since Ash had felt his hands, his feet, or, most importantly, his magic. The staff was still hanging in the air in the farthest corner of the ice chambers. Anna’Bre, lying on the snow covers, once again indulged in carnal pleasures with one of her many servants. And this particular man was so endowed that his manhood could be used as a battering ram. No wonder that the witch was enjoying herself so loudly that her voice made the crystal windows shake. Ash couldn’t tell if she was moaning with pleasure or screaming in pain. It wasn’t that he was a voyeur and that he enjoyed these things, but that Anna’Bre had been doing nothing other than enjoying herself in front of him for the past few days. Apparently, in this way, she wanted to break his will, but all she did was make him even more disgusted.
With another moan, Anna’Bre straightened up like an arrow and froze. A few minutes later, her lover walked out of the room like a limp doll. The witch got up, put on a robe made of ice particles, and went to the cage. Her white fingers traced the bars, and a soft chime filled the huge room.
“Oh, my poor, miserable Ash...” she said as she circled the cage. With each step, the cold receded, making the air relatively warmer. Steam was still pouring out of Ash’s mouth, but his legs and arms tingled uncomfortably as blood returned to them. Unfortunately, the blood went to places other than his limbs. His pants suddenly felt tighter. “I see you enjoyed my little performance after all.”
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 36
