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

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 replace 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