Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story, Kirill Klevanski [great reads .TXT] 📗

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