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Prophecies
“When the Two Brothers are free, the end of times will come.”
“The people of Danu will be driven to despair. And when there are fewer of them left than a handful of river pebbles, their vengeance will take place.”
Iaienne the Wise, Seeing the People of Danu
Prayer for the cup, symbol of the savior's faith
“Truly I tell you, it happens that a small sin turns an entire righteous life into nothing, and everyone suffers for the sin of one. Listen! Live righteously and modestly, for the sins of the world are accumulating, and the day will come when they will be weighed and measured, and no one will know which of the small sins will shake His Cup of Patience.
And again, and also truly I say to you – tremble! For the Three Sleeping Beasts must receive freedom, but they will not be given the power to harm living creatures immediately, but only after three days. And until all Three are freed, the Cup will not spill. So let us pray that He will take this fate away from us! Amen"
Part one
Chapter first
She would have to get to Khvalin before the downpour caught up... She woke up, breaking out of her unsteady, chilly sleep. The chilly October wind seeped through the cracks and tears in the wagon canopy. The shabby and ragged blanket did not help, if not for mortal fatigue, she would not have slept a wink until the morning. The old scar on my neck was very painful - it meant rain. An old and scary scar... very scary...
The road again. Damn her. And the eternal “...until the downpour caught up...”, repeated in different variations by the entire troupe without exception.
Yes, the local Shower could really be called that way, with a capital letter. He really had to not “charge”, but catch up - a gloomy and dark, heavenly army was coming from the east, the horizon swirled black, as if unprecedented fires were blazing there, in the distance - but people tried to talk about everything that related to the Death Showers in the most ordinary words, as if this could protect us from death pouring from the sky!
This time these words were spoken by Kitsum, an old clown who never parted with a bottle. His hands were already shaking badly, and his breath smelled of some kind of alchemical muck, even when he was a rare thing! - I accidentally turned out to be sober. He came to the platform only after “a small sip for good luck.” The volume of the “sip” varied from a two-fisted mug to a whole bottle of the strong dwarven “Stone Heat”.
She shivered, trying in vain to conserve the last remnants of warmth. That's it, now they'll lift it up. The van will stop for a few minutes at most, to draw water from a roadside well, and then drag on further, through the forest, windfall desolation, through the Subolic Wasteland, which separated the glorious city of Khvalin from the no less glorious city of Ostrag.
“...Just to make it before the downpour catches up...”
They did not stop overnight. They did not light fires at rest stops. The food was cooked somehow on an iron stove, fearing that it would be carried over the side of the van.
Because if it rains on the way, all of them can read the letter of departure.
Without waiting for a kick in the side, the girl threw back the blanket and stretched - easily, gracefully, like a wild cat. Which, by the way, was not so far from the truth. The pointed ears actually gave her a certain resemblance to a cat—and a wild one at that.
Agatha is from the tribes of Danu. More precisely, people called her Agatha - for her rare hair, blue-black, blacker than a raven’s wing; and no one cared what her real name sounded like.
“Ah, I came to my senses...” Kitsum sat on his shabby chest and drank steaming tea from a cracked bone mug. The van shook mercilessly, but the old clown somehow managed not to spill a drop.
Gods! Kitsum drinks tea in the morning!
- Let's get down to business, pointy-eared brat. Over there the boilers have not been cleaned since the evening. And Trosha brought water for you - both here and for Mr. Onfim. I would give it to the guy as a thank you...
The girl (or rather, a girl; by human standards, she looked about fourteen years old, no older; and how many wicked Danu counts, anyone who believes in the True God will never even think about) sat down mockingly, pulling the folds of her wide trousers to the sides with her fingers.
- If you drink tea, does this really mean that the barrel of the dwarf has shown the bottom, oh venerable Kitsum, may the white makeup not fall off your cheeks on the platform? “Agatha deftly dodged a tattered shoe thrown at her head and stuck her tongue out at the old man.
Kitsum treated her the best in the troupe. Except, of course, for Trosha, a pariah like her.
The shoe crashed into the canopy and, completing its flight, landed straight on the head of the recommended Trochet, a young guy taken into the Onfim and Onfim circus for his rare health, naturally enormous strength and equally enormous stupidity and gullibility. He worked with heavy steel balls connected by a chain, tossed them, twisted them, causing invariable oohs, sighs and covering their faces with shawls from the stout merchant women, who, through the foolishness of their husbands, ended up at the Khvalinsk, Ostrag or Ezhelinsk fairs. Almost every performance ended with the owner Onfim the first taking Trosha by the hand and leading him somewhere, returning every time very pleased. The guy appeared no other than the next morning and answered the greedy questions of Tukk and Tokk, the acrobat brothers, with only a bewildered shrug of the shoulders:
“Yes, the damned cow was jumping on me all night... It would be better if I twirled the balls one more time. Satisfied...what? I don’t know these words, Mr. Tukk, forgive me generously... I’m tired, that’s all. And they didn’t let me sleep. As always…"
“Oh,” the disciplined Trosha immediately opened his eyes. - I’m sorry, Mr. Kitsum... I’m already getting up, Mr. Kitsum...
– Can I help you recover, Mr. Kitsum? – skillfully faking her voice, Agatha continued, already bending over the cauldrons.
– Blockhead!.. Ugh, Agatha, lascivious cat, it’s you again! How many times have I been caught in your stupid trick!..
The Danu girl snorted.
Until Mr. Onfim, the acrobat brothers and the other inhabitants of the two circus vans woke up, she could afford it. Then whips or spells will be used, tormenting the flesh of the daughter of the Danu tribes. Unless, of course, she doesn't listen.
Agatha bent down even lower.
Sand and ice water - and scrub off the congealed grease and scale as you wish. No matter how bad things went, Mr. Onfim the First and the acrobat brothers, headphones and hangers-on of the owner, did not deny themselves food. True, then Mr. Onfim took a whip and personally removed the excess fat from the squealing brothers.
- Hello, Trosha.
“Oh, hello, Agatka...” He blushed, instantly turning dark, like a wild fish-eating southerner from the Islands baked by the sun.
It’s funny - the guy, who every day at fairs was thrust upon some merchant’s wife, or even a bored noble lady, gave in and was incredibly embarrassed in front of Agatha. His ingenuous heart, it seems, was forever captivated by the pointy-eared black-haired girl Danu, a disgusting and godless Inhuman, according to the authoritative opinion of the gentlemen theologians of Melin, the southern imperial capital.
- You brought water, thank you.
It’s not painful to joyfully start the day with such a disgusting procedure, but what can you do? Nobody knows what can piss off Mr. Onfim the First. Sometimes he does not pay any attention to the cleanliness of the dishes, and sometimes because of this he throws utter hysterics, ending in beatings and floggings.
Chronicles of the Rift - 1
BOOK ONE
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PROLOGUE
PROPHECIES
“When the Two Brothers are free, the end of times will come.”
“The people of Danu will be driven to despair. And when there are fewer of them left than a handful of river pebbles, their vengeance will take place.”
Iaienne the Wise, Seeing the People of Danu
PRAYER FOR THE CHALICE, SYMBOL OF FAITH OF THE SAVIOR
“Truly I tell you, it happens that a small sin turns an entire righteous life into nothing, and everyone suffers for the sin of one. Listen! Live righteously and modestly, for the sins of the world are accumulating, and the day will come when they will be weighed and measured, and no one will know which of the small sins will shake His Cup of Patience.
And again, and also truly I say to you - tremble! For the Three Sleeping Beasts must receive freedom, but they will not be given the power to harm living creatures immediately, but only after three days. And until all Three are freed, the Cup will not spill. So let us pray that He will take this fate away from us! Amen"
Chapter 1
I would like to get to Khvalin before the rain catches up...
She woke up, emerging from a shaky, chilly sleep. The chilly October wind seeped through the cracks and tears in the wagon canopy. The shabby and ragged blanket did not help, if not for mortal fatigue, she would not have slept a wink until the morning. The old scar on my neck was very painful - it meant rain. An old and scary scar... very scary...
The road again. Damn her. And the eternal “...until the downpour caught up...”, repeated in different variations by the entire troupe without exception.
Yes, the local Shower could really be called that way, with a capital letter. He really had to not “charge”, but catch up - a gloomy and dark, heavenly army was coming from the east, the horizon swirled black, as if unprecedented fires were blazing there, in the distance - but people tried to talk about everything that related to the Death Showers in the most ordinary words, as if this could protect us from death pouring from the sky!
This time these words were spoken by Kitsum, the old clown who never parted with the bottle. His hands were already shaking badly, and his breath smelled of some kind of alchemical muck, even when he was a rare thing! - accidentally turned out to be sober. He came to the platform only after “a small sip for good luck.” The volume of the “sip” varied from a two-fisted mug to a whole bottle of the strong dwarven “Stone Heat”.
She shivered, trying in vain to conserve the last remnants of warmth. That's it, they'll pick her up now. The van will stop for a few minutes at most, to draw water from a roadside well, and then drag on further, through the forest, windfall desolation, through the Subolic Wasteland, which separated the glorious city of Khvalin from the no less glorious city of Ostrag.
“...Just to make it before the downpour catches up...”
They did not stop overnight. They did not light fires at rest stops. The food was cooked somehow on an iron stove, fearing that it would be carried over the side of the van.
Because if it rains on the way, all of them can read the letter of departure.
Without waiting for a kick in the side, the girl threw back the blanket and stretched - easily, gracefully, like a wild cat. Which, by the way, was not so far from the truth. The pointed ears actually gave her a certain resemblance to a cat - and a wild one at that.
Summary: The Mortal Shower is coming and Onfim's circus needs to hurry in order to have time to hide behind the walls of Khvalin. However, Onfim is the first to stop the carts at Drungskoo Forest. Agatha, a slave from the Danu tribe, is forced to follow her master. For a hundred years, the Tree King grew Immelstorn, a wooden sword, to pass it into the hands of the Danu family. Meanwhile, Kann-Torog and Alia-Tavi arrive in Khvalit along with the dwarf convoy. Following the dwarf Sidri, they will have to complete the task of the Stone Throne. Escaping persecution, they go to the mines of Tsar Mountain. Here, in the darkness, the dwarf Sidri must find Dragnir - a diamond sword. Will these two ancient artifacts really fall into the hands of the adherents of the Order of Ark, giving them unimaginable power and authority? Immelstorn is already aimed in Agatha's hands and aimed at the Master of the Rain. The Emperor, sensing danger, supported only by one of the Patriarchs of the Gray League, enters into confrontation with the magicians of the seven Orders. Melin is engulfed in fires.
Personal impressions:“Nick” is an English abbreviation for the name Nikolai. In general, Perumov’s work has a sense of foreign thoroughness. Good storytelling style, thoughtful plot, etc. Scattered pieces of events systematically and rapidly lead the reader further, further, further... However, this book, as such, did not receive any clear outcome. Yes, two swords are obtained, some unknown forces appear, the Emperor kills the magicians, etc. However, there is no sense of completion when the reader can take a breath with relief and calmly wait for the continuation. No, you will have to suffer here. Of course, against the background of many other “chronicles”, “chronicles”, etc. “Chronicles of the Rift” looks quite impressive, but I can’t say that it’s mine. By the way, I still don’t understand why it was “Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword” and not “Wooden Sword, Diamond Sword” because Immelstorn was obtained first.
Book cover: A green background, in huge letters “Nick PERUMOV” and already three times smaller the name “DIAMOND SWORD, WOODEN SWORD”, a clear feature of the creations of the Eksmo-Press publishing house. Speaking about the work of Pavel Rudenko, it is difficult to be unambiguous. The depicted Lord of the Rain fits well into the “format”. At the same time, he is more reminiscent of the Predator from the film of the same name starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. The skull with the spine especially contributes to this impression. It’s also bad that the artist clearly listened half-heartedly to the description of this monster. It is written, white on black:
...a head in an ugly horned helmet..., broken on one side..., a face..., a mess of rotten meat and blackened bones..., eyes - dull green eyesores..., a gigantic body - in rusty, ancient armor, pierced and broken in places .., on a belt of monstrous size there is a flambert sword, also all rusty..., and in his right hand there is a lantern. A human skull on the spinal column, which the monster's fingers hold by the spine, like a handle; a poisonous green light pours from the empty eye sockets of the skull...Compare this small fragment with what is drawn.
Dedicated to my friends, old and new, networkers, feeders and others.
My email addresses:
[email protected] or 2:5030/618.2 fidonet.org
Prologue
Prophecies
“When the Two Brothers are free, the end of times will come.”
“The people of Danu will be driven to despair. And when there are fewer of them left than a handful of river pebbles, their vengeance will take place.”
Iaienne the Wise, Seeing the People of Danu
Prayer for the cup, symbol of the savior's faith
“Truly I tell you, it happens that a small sin turns an entire righteous life into nothing, and everyone suffers for the sin of one. Listen! Live righteously and modestly, for the sins of the world are accumulating, and the day will come when they will be weighed and measured, and no one will know which of the small sins will shake His Cup of Patience.
And again, and also truly I say to you – tremble! For the Three Sleeping Beasts must receive freedom, but they will not be given the power to harm living creatures immediately, but only after three days. And until all Three are freed, the Cup will not spill. So let us pray that He will take this fate away from us! Amen"
Part one
Chapter first
She would have to get to Khvalin before the downpour caught up... She woke up, breaking out of her unsteady, chilly sleep. The chilly October wind seeped through the cracks and tears in the wagon canopy. The shabby and ragged blanket did not help, if not for mortal fatigue, she would not have slept a wink until the morning. The old scar on my neck was very painful - it meant rain. An old and scary scar... very scary...
The road again. Damn her. And the eternal “...until the downpour caught up...”, repeated in different variations by the entire troupe without exception.
Yes, the local Shower could really be called that way, with a capital letter. He really had to not “charge”, but catch up - a gloomy and dark, heavenly army was coming from the east, the horizon swirled black, as if unprecedented fires were blazing there, in the distance - but people tried to talk about everything that related to the Death Showers in the most ordinary words, as if this could protect us from death pouring from the sky!
This time these words were spoken by Kitsum, an old clown who never parted with a bottle. His hands were already shaking badly, and his breath smelled of some kind of alchemical muck, even when he was a rare thing! - I accidentally turned out to be sober. He came to the platform only after “a small sip for good luck.” The volume of the “sip” varied from a two-fisted mug to a whole bottle of the strong dwarven “Stone Heat”.
She shivered, trying in vain to conserve the last remnants of warmth.
That's it, now they'll lift it up. The van will stop for a few minutes at most, to draw water from a roadside well, and then drag on further, through the forest, windfall desolation, through the Subolic Wasteland, which separated the glorious city of Khvalin from the no less glorious city of Ostrag.
“...Just to make it before the downpour catches up...”
They did not stop overnight. They did not light fires at rest stops. The food was cooked somehow on an iron stove, fearing that it would be carried over the side of the van.
Because if it rains on the way, all of them can read the letter of departure.
Without waiting for a kick in the side, the girl threw back the blanket and stretched - easily, gracefully, like a wild cat. Which, by the way, was not so far from the truth. The pointed ears actually gave her a certain resemblance to a cat—and a wild one at that.
Agatha is from the tribes of Danu. More precisely, people called her Agatha - for her rare hair, blue-black, blacker than a raven’s wing; and no one cared what her real name sounded like.
“Ah, I came to my senses...” Kitsum sat on his shabby chest and drank steaming tea from a cracked bone mug. The van shook mercilessly, but the old clown somehow managed not to spill a drop.
Gods! Kitsum drinks tea in the morning!
- Let's get down to business, pointy-eared brat. Over there the boilers have not been cleaned since the evening. And Trosha brought water for you - both here and for Mr. Onfim. I would give it to the guy as a thank you...
The girl (or rather, a girl; by human standards, she looked about fourteen years old, no older; and how many wicked Danu counts, anyone who believes in the True God will never even think about) sat down mockingly, pulling the folds of her wide trousers to the sides with her fingers.
- If you drink tea, does this really mean that the barrel of the dwarf has shown the bottom, oh venerable Kitsum, may the white makeup not fall off your cheeks on the platform? “Agatha deftly dodged a tattered shoe thrown at her head and stuck her tongue out at the old man.
Kitsum treated her the best in the troupe. Except, of course, for Trosha, a pariah like her.
The shoe crashed into the canopy and, completing its flight, landed straight on the head of the recommended Trochet, a young guy taken into the Onfim and Onfim circus for his rare health, naturally enormous strength and equally enormous stupidity and gullibility. He worked with heavy steel balls connected by a chain, tossed them, twisted them, causing invariable oohs, sighs and covering their faces with shawls from the stout merchant women, who, through the foolishness of their husbands, ended up at the Khvalinsk, Ostrag or Ezhelinsk fairs. Almost every performance ended with the owner Onfim the first taking Trosha by the hand and leading him somewhere, returning every time very pleased. The guy appeared no other than the next morning and answered the greedy questions of Tukk and Tokk, the acrobat brothers, with only a bewildered shrug of the shoulders:
“Yes, the damned cow was jumping on me all night... It would be better if I twirled the balls one more time. Satisfied...what? I don’t know these words, Mr. Tukk, forgive me generously... I’m tired, that’s all. And they didn’t let me sleep. As always…"
“Oh,” the disciplined Trosha immediately opened his eyes. - I’m sorry, Mr. Kitsum... I’m already getting up, Mr. Kitsum...
– Can I help you recover, Mr. Kitsum? – skillfully faking her voice, Agatha continued, already bending over the cauldrons.
– Blockhead!.. Ugh, Agatha, lascivious cat, it’s you again! How many times have I been caught in your stupid trick!..
The Danu girl snorted.
Until Mr. Onfim, the acrobat brothers and the other inhabitants of the two circus vans woke up, she could afford it. Then whips or spells will be used, tormenting the flesh of the daughter of the Danu tribes. Unless, of course, she doesn't listen.
Agatha bent down even lower.
Sand and ice water - and scrub off the congealed grease and scale as you wish. No matter how bad things went, Mr. Onfim the First and the acrobat brothers, headphones and hangers-on of the owner, did not deny themselves food. True, then Mr. Onfim took a whip and personally removed the excess fat from the squealing brothers.
- Hello, Trosha.
“Oh, hello, Agatka...” He blushed, instantly turning dark, like a wild fish-eating southerner from the Islands baked by the sun.
It’s funny - the guy, who every day at fairs was thrust upon some merchant’s wife, or even a bored noble lady, gave in and was incredibly embarrassed in front of Agatha. His ingenuous heart, it seems, was forever captivated by the pointy-eared black-haired girl Danu, a disgusting and godless Inhuman, according to the authoritative opinion of the gentlemen theologians of Melin, the southern imperial capital.
- You brought water, thank you.
It’s not painful to joyfully start the day with such a disgusting procedure, but what can you do? Nobody knows what can piss off Mr. Onfim the First. Sometimes he does not pay any attention to the cleanliness of the dishes, and sometimes because of this he throws utter hysterics, ending in beatings and floggings.
Trosha wanted to answer, but he became even more embarrassed and just waved his hand.
- So what am I... I always...
- Hey, did you open your eyes there, you lazy jerboas? - Nodlik barked from the box, having spent the second half of the night sitting as a coachman. Actually, she and Evelyn were jugglers; Both continually cuckolded each other, quarreled and fought, but immediately came to complete agreement when it came to ridicule or insults directed at Agatha.
“How long have we waved, Nodlik?.. Let’s drop the reins, I have some tea here,” Kitsum responded. – The cold road freezes the chest and soul, it’s time to warm up a little!
Agatha could never understand how it was possible to treat everyone equally - to her, and to Trosha, and to Nodlik and Evelyn, who found a peculiar pleasure in doing the next nasty thing to the Dan girl.
- Tea? Did you say tea, O greatest of comedians? - Nodlik screamed. “Get that tattered cat here!” Agatha! Let's move, or you'll get us in trouble in no time!
“We” was not said without reason. Evelyn never missed an opportunity to take part in the massacre.
– Leave her, Nodlik. She scrubs boilers.
- Ahh... this is the place for crap like these Danu. Well then, I’m heading here.
“Yeah, yeah, just a minute, Mr. Nodlik...” the strong man hurried.
Nodlik threw him the reins (deftly hitting Trochet in the eye with the end of one of them) and climbed from the box into the van. He was tall, but somehow awkward, bony, broken, with a long, sad face that no amount of makeup could revive. The juggler's forehead was covered with numerous scarlet and bluish pimples; his sparse hair, piebald with gray, hung in greasy icicles - and yet Nodlik, by human reckoning, was only thirty-five!..
“M... are we getting up already?..” inquired a hoarse voice, as if it belonged to a woman. - Hey bitch, is my breakfast ready?
“Bitch” was Evelyn’s most affectionate word for Agatha.
“She cleans boilers, my friend,” Kitsum thought it necessary to note.
- Well, you’re an asshole... I found something to entrust her with... Let Onfim give her a hard time for this too - all the fun...
Agatha twitched her cheek.
“They're all just dirty pigs. Dirty, drunk, mating pigs. The pig may knock Dana into the mud, but the true Dana will never turn his anger against her.”, - although, in truth, this maxim, extracted from Atann-eeuy Akhimm, Tan-eu-Ahim, if written in primitive human letters, the Royal Hexateuch, has recently ceased to console Agatha.
Now all the occupants of the first van were assembled. Kitsum, Nodlik, Evelyn, Agata and Trosha, sitting on a box. Behind them was the second van of their circus - much larger and richer. The canopy above him was new and strong, without a single tear. There rode Mr. Onfim the First himself, Eremey the snake charmer, the acrobat brothers and Tansha - the Death Maiden, as the fairground barkers called her. Mr. Onfim himself, as befits an owner, was involved in collecting money and distributing salaries. His half-brother Onfim II sat in Ezhelina, sending news to his brother through postal spells where and when it would be most profitable to stage a performance.
Agatha - a servant, a dishwasher, a seamstress, a cook, a dancer, a musician, an acrobat, a living doll, which Kitsum beat on the head and other parts of the body with a fake whip for the amusement of the most respectable public, a living target in the Death of the Virgin attraction - completed the list of artists “Onfima and Onfima " Needless to say, she was not entitled to any salary. Dana’s slender neck was encircled by a charmed collar made of rough iron. She was a slave without the right to ransom.
“Come on, let’s go to prayer, quickly,” devout Nodlik urged the others. - And you, Danka, put down your godless eyes, you have no reason to stare at how honest people pray to the true God...
True God. Who gave the whole earth into the hands of his chosen people, from one side to another, incinerated his enemies, strengthened his strongholds and gave indestructible power to his weapons. And who vigilantly, every day, helps him now.
Everyone in the van, with the exception of Agatha, began to pray. The church did not allow Dana to receive communion or baptism. They had the right to exist either as conquered enemies - that is, as slaves; or as enemies not yet conquered, but this, of course, is temporary.
Involuntarily, Agatha listened to the monotonously droning voices.
-... And don’t let evil happen...
- God, save us from...
Everything is as usual. Agatha has already memorized this morning prayer. It was spoken in a nasal voice by the priests in the slave camp, where everyone who had just been captured was herded; the drunken voices of the guards answered the priests; the jailers pulled at the institution for those who did not want to so easily come to terms with the slave collar; the fat resellers muttered, begging for at least a little luck, that is, a successful deception; hissed the housewives who came to choose servants for themselves and concubines for their husbands, for Danu is not people, but simply a vessel to satisfy the base needs of men...
Agatha listened to the prayer. How great, probably, is the power of this new god, if he gave terrible, irresistible battle magic into the hands of the Humans, on the ancestral lands of Danu, elves, gnomes, orcs, trolls, kobolds, halflings, heads, gurrs, garridas and many others - helped create the dark Empire, the fear and horror of all non-human races, an insatiable monster, devouring the heart and liver of its enemies, coughing up legions that go further and further, to the very ocean shores. And instead of the proud swan ships of the elves and Danu, which rushed along the waves in swift flight, the seas are now torn apart by the ramming bows of war galleys, bound in red copper...
...And the Episcopate is zealous, according to the age-old rule of “divide and conquer,” and now the Free Empire, a people of unsurpassed warriors, who are already useful to the Empire, are declared admitted to communion, and now the half-subjugated people are declared “walkers of enlightenment,” their towns and villages are subject to a heavy tribute, the church , order and imperial tithes, but were left in relative peace.
The church and magicians graciously allowed the gnomes driven deep underground to somehow trade, orcs, trolls and goblins to do some menial work, they allowed kobolds into the imperial markets and gloomy caravans.
And the godless Danu and the elves are outlawed. As well as the unsurrendered heads, gurrs, and garridas. But these hardly truly understand what is happening, they are murderers and wild bloodsuckers, Danu, the former owners of the forests, waged a merciless war against them...
Agatha’s hands, without requiring the intervention of her head, were diligently scrubbing the iron insides of the boilers all this time.
-Are you finished already? – Evelyn meticulously examined the steel, polished to an incredible shine. - But now we’ll check...
- Hey, you, there, on the head! - they screamed from behind.
Agatha raised her head.
The hefty van of Mr. Onfim the First was pulled by as many as six horses harnessed in pairs. Eremey, the snake charmer, sat on the front; however, now he was not sitting, but just opposite, he was jumping up and waving his arms.
- On the head! Have you already prayed, or not? Mister Onfim is asked! And one more thing – listen here! Mister Onfim immediately demand danka!
“We prayed, we prayed,” Nodlik muttered.
Something similar to sympathy flashed in Kitsuma’s dim gaze, fixed on Agatha.
The owner of a traveling circus had the misfortune of waking up too early. Usually on the way he opened his eyes no earlier than noon. Prayed; after which he got down to business. As a matter of fact, this meant trouble for all the artists without exception, including the fellow acrobats; only Death the Maiden, who enthusiastically warmed Mr. Onfim the First’s bed in the evenings, could feel relatively safe.
Here, in the middle of the Subhuman Wasteland, with the Death Shower hanging on his shoulders, being thrown out of the wagons meant certain death. Mr. Onfim was already furious that a good quarter of the season’s profits had to be given to the Ostrag magician, who cast a tirelessness spell on the horses.
The Danu girl slid over the side of the van like a swift weasel. Her movements showed inhuman flexibility and smoothness; it seemed that she was not running, but flowing, like a stream.
Turning around, Trosha looked at Agatha for a long time and smacked his lips with a sigh.
- Well, this bitch will get it now! – Evelyn giggled evilly. - So I don’t understand, are we left without breakfast?
“You’ll survive,” said the imperturbable Kitsum. Oddly enough, he was in no hurry to drink from the bottle - either the supplies had really dried up, or Saint Sukhorot himself, the hater of drinkers, appeared to him in a dream.
Evelyn grimaced, but remained silent - she and Nodlik once tried to arrange a “dark” for the clown. The juggler rested for a week, and Evelyn had to fork out a fair amount to have the sorceress-beautician correct the well-known asymmetry of her face. They did not dare to hurt Kitsuma anymore.
The woman immediately took out her anger on Nodlik. Drawing his head into his shoulders, he began to cook.
* * *
Agatha deftly dodged a whip that lashed out very close. The snake charmer cursed in disappointment.
“Good morning, Mr. Eremey,” Agatha sang in a honeyed voice, managing to curtsey as she ran. She grabbed the side of the cart and in one movement found herself inside.
It was warm in Mr. Onfim's van. There were two stoves here, and one was lined with stones. Both were already on fire. The brother acrobats were milling around the stoves, extremely annoyed by this turn of events. Both their faces were covered with soot.
Mr. Onfim was reclining on a cash chest, covered with four layers of blankets. Tansha-Death fussed nearby, bringing smoking bowls.
Yes, an unprecedented thing. Mr. Onfim sent his mistress to cook! Usually the slave Danu did this; Something special happened today, apparently.
The circus owner did not like to bother himself with greetings. Even with Tansha, he usually talked like this: “Well, are you ready? How long can you wait? Lift your skirt, bitch, and bend over! And you turn away, you bastards..."
“We are passing the remains of the Drung Forest,” Onfim hissed. - Let's stop now. And let's walk. Together with you. Take your belongings. Don't keep me waiting! Not that…
“Yes, Mr. Onfim,” Danu bowed low.
“Dirty pigs. Drung Forest! The western border of Danu's lands... the last stronghold. I knew that he would be on our way... He called me, he recognized me a dozen leagues away - but he could not see the collar on my neck... Great Gods, Onfim, it turns out, knows history quite well!.. And I will again have to watch how the foot of a pathetic human tramples the sacred land of my fathers!..”
However, she still could not do anything. The collar was riveted by skilled sorcerers.
Onfim threw away the blankets. In a dark green hunting caftan, in high boots and with a crooked Artsakh saber on his belt, he did not at all look like the owner of a traveling circus, who had recently turned sixty, had grown a fair belly, was a big lover of beer and women - both human and non-human races. The puffy cheeks disappeared to God knows where, and the faded eyes burned with a real, living fire - this did not happen even in the happiest moments of his life, when he was counting the proceeds.
“I’m waiting,” he reminded coldly.
Agatha bowed silently.
- Eremey! “We stop,” Onfim commanded.
The acrobat brothers looked at Dana with evil rat eyes.
It was a matter of one minute to catch up with the lead van, grab a warm raincoat - the only thing left to her, and put on traveling boots. The carts creaked to a stop; Kitsum, with his mouth open, looked at the owner.
- Mister... Mister Onfim! - He wheezed from fear and stumbled on almost every syllable. - Rains... Mr. Onfim...
Agatha almost fell, noticing the smile on her owner’s thin, bloodless lips.
- It's okay, Kitsum. I've thought of everything. Including this stop. Wait for us... we won't be long, at most until the evening. And so that the temptation for hotheads to run away with the wagons and money is reduced, I cast a Put spell on the horses.
He raised his hand. On his ring finger, Agatha saw a ring with an emerald-colored stone in a cheap bronze frame. Onfim muttered the words of the password, and the stone flared up, disappearing in a bright green flame. There was only an empty slot left on the ring.
For a moment my ears were blocked.
“By my arrival, the van should be heated and dinner ready,” Onfim ordered in an unpleasant voice. - Now go ahead, danka!.. Earn your bread!..
Agatha silently moved forward.
“You surprised me, Onfim. I would never have thought that you knew about our Forest. I never would have thought that you would want to climb into it yourself. But most importantly, what do you need in the Drung Forest? Your magicians combed it up and down. And a lot of people visited - they were looking for Danu’s gold, fools... You don’t look like a fool, Onfim. You are a dirty, cruel, depraved and dishonest pig, Onfim, but at the same time you are far from stupid. So why did you need to come to our Forest?”
The trees along the road grew ordinary, human ones. Garbage trees, as the true Danu called them. Small, skinny, tormented by rot and aphids, and here and there entangled in silkworm webs. Their hateful gazes glared at Agatha's back; tongueless mouths opened, spewing out a stream of dirty and disgusting curses, inaudible to anyone but her. Against this background, the desire to be raped and strangled by one’s own father could pass for refined politeness.
A little further from the road the forest became clearer. This is understandable - the trees along the highway took on all the anger of those passing by, all their grief and disappointment, and therefore they got sick, wasted away, but did not die and even gave birth to offspring. The infinity of torment only intensified the anger.
The branches tried to grab Agatha's hair and scratch out her eyes - Onfim lashed them with a thin bone stack, and the girl felt a sudden icy prick in the pit of her stomach - the yellowish bone clearly contained some kind of spell, and not a simple one at that.
Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword. Volume 2 Nick Perumov
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Name: Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword. Volume 2
About the book “Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword. Volume 2" Nick Perumov
A universally recognized master of his craft, a true genius who, it seems, never stops creating for a minute - Nick Perumov. From his pen came many books, cycles, and multi-volume volumes. It seems that new creative ideas are pouring from the author as if from a cornucopia. And despite the fact that there are a huge number of works created by the author, the quality of each subsequent one does not suffer at all. We present to your attention the book “Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword. Volume 2". Probably, for true fans of Perumov, any words about this book will be unnecessary. For those who are just getting acquainted with his work, it will be enough to read only one book to form a personal, authoritative opinion about the author himself and his works.
“Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword. Volume 2" is a real, high-quality modern combat fantasy. Start reading, and it will be very, very difficult to return to the reality of our world. A magnificent antithesis of a completely fictional world, which seems much more realistic than the real one. In this book, Perumov continues the epic of swords, telling about the centuries-old Empire founded by people, which once defeated the orcs and elves, gnomes and even Danu. About an Empire that was built and maintained on fear and blood. All the power of the throne rests on the seven Magical Orders, which have absolute power over all the inhabitants of the country and even the Emperor. But in the wilds of the Drung Forest the sacred sword Immelstorn awakens, and in the caves of the Undermountain Tribe - the sword Dragnir. And this means only one thing - the day of the beginning of the great battle and monstrous revenge is approaching. Who will be able to escape, who will survive, and who will win is described in the most detailed manner on the pages of the book.
The book “Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword. Volume 2" became the point of intersection of characters from many volumes, magicians and gods, the Emperor, their destinies. Each of the characters, even the minor ones, are detailed and smoothly woven into the main storyline. The book is read in one breath, which is not surprising. The incredible dynamics and way of constructing the plot do not let go of the reader's attention for a minute, and the constantly fueled curiosity forces you to read the book to the last page and immediately pick up a new one.
This book, like all of Perumov’s works, is incredibly fascinating, colorful and full of unexpected plot developments. It is definitely recommended reading for all fans of this genre and this author.
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