Вернуться

That’s the tale

That's the tale

Nastenka was sitting in her crystal room, surrounded by snowflakes and snow maidens, now she had girlfriends. In the palace of Inget and Viskola life was in full swing. On New Year’s Eve, the inhabitants of the palace — snowflakes, snowmen, talking magical animals, snow maidens, New Year boys, winds and winters, snows and rivers, mavkas and mermaids, goblins and others — prepared a list of miracles for those who deserved them. Sometimes they came across among people, but rarely, more often among spirits and other fairy people, often among fairy-tale heroes who were slandered by writers who took up their story, but fell into their grievances and fantasies.
It was jolley for Nastenka among the fairy people. She only missed May, time by time she would look in the magic mirror to see what he was doing. And ashamed, and can not look away, looks after him both in the shower and in bed. Nastenka consoled herself that she was considered dead, and the dead have no shame.
Of course, when she was not alone, she did not look into the magic mirror. And, in general, she didn’t tell anyone about May, her mother only knew, well, Inget, of course, her named father.
The West Wind blew into the room.
— Another Snow maiden.
— It’s started again! — the girls gasped discordantly and ran to look at the new one.
Nastenka went as well.
Inget stood in front of the weeping frightened Marfa.
— Well, what are you crying, silly girl?
— No one needs me! — Martha howled.
— How old are you? Why you couldn’t find someone to your age who would want to do business with you. Or what, you are so much bad?
— What did I do? It’s not my fault that no one wanted to hang out with me?
— Well, don’t talk that, — Inget grinned, — have you heard about Grandfather Frost, good children and bad children? Grandfather Frost knows everything. I know how you ruined your sister’s things.

— She is not my sister! -Martha yelled nervously.
— Well, she is not a sister, but could become, eh? Nastenka’s temperament is meek. And you couldn’t even handle her. Well, right, you will live as a Snow Maiden, and you will learn. Eternity is long. And you have nothing to do among the people, you do not know how to be a human.

In the winter forest

— I can’t believe we’re doing this! — Vadim wandered through the snow. — Yes, even for a girl with whom I have not even slept. What if she is in bed like this, Snow Maiden, — Vadim laughed.
— Will teach her, — smiled May. — Rostislav doesn’t complain about his Snow Maiden.
— That’s right, — Vadim agreed philosophically, mechanically reached for the pancake.
— What are you doing? This is a sacrificial meal. It is forbidden. Grandpa Frost will be offended.
— Sorry, I forgot. You know, I don’t really believe that, May. This lady is crazy. Your Nastya is in a brothel somewhere or at the station, you just need to punch her phone, but we bake pancakes and run through the forest.
— I was looking for her. Those days. And I called her. Her phone switched off. And for some reason you can’t get her. I asked them for a phone number, I thought maybe they would give another one, maybe she changed it. At home she guarded, the next day, until night, she did not come, in the group I asked, no one knows anything. I have a friend of a cop, a good man, he checked her phone, and social networks, too, and he said his guys to pay attention to it. Let’s try this today, tomorrow we’ll try something different.
— It looks, we are here. Here is the first slope, Katya and I rode here, remember, such a busty one.
— I don’t remember, — May smiled.
— Listen, are you, in general, about the women? How can you not remember Katya?
— Come on, it’s youe business, to remember your women, who is busty, who is muzzy … we came, sort of. Well, let’s put it on.
— Yeah, I couldn’t anymore, I mean women, I’ll give Santa Claus a promise to love, appreciate, otherwise he won’t give me Marfutka back. Oh, well, Marfutka, you will have to try to replace all the women for me!
Vadim put the treat under the tree, May under the next one.
May raked the snow for himself and for Vadim and took off his shoes, standing barefoot on the frozen ground.
Vadim, too, immediately cursed.
— How cold.
— Don’t swear, evil spirits, they say, they don’t like it.
— How we call him?
— Well, I don’t know, in free form, I guess, Snow Maiden didn’t say anything. Inget, Inget, come to me for a treat, I have a request.
— Yeah. And I have. How did they call the swearing dwarf in the camp, right? Inget, Inget, come to pancakes and bring Marfutka. Is it ok, not too soon?
May shrugged.
— Geata taught us, Inget, Snow Maiden, — he said loudly.Vadim looked around.

XXXX

Inget and Viskola played ice cubes for a wish. Suddenly Inget smiled and listened.
— What? Has everyone decided to throw away their daughters this year? Another Snow Maiden? — Viscola chuckled.
— I haven’t heard that in hundreds of years! — Inget laughed, — The Call, can you imagine?
— Your name? — the blizzard broke her beautiful eyebrows.
— Mine, yes. This is for the daughter of a good fellow.
— For Nastya? — the blizzard was amazed.
— Yeah, — said Inget cheerfully, — I’ll go, son-in-law is here, after all.
The blizzard laughed crystal-clearly and leaned back in her chair.
— Call him here. Will we test him?
— Of course. That’s the tale.
Viscola clapped her hands. 

I like to make people happy

I like to make people happy

The boys were moving cautiously toward the exit when a monster appeared in their path, a tricolored dragon, with a porcelain mask of an elder on its face. The monster looked as if man and dragon had merged into one creature, merged ineptly as if just some force had pressed the man into the dragon’s maw mid-body. The boys screamed. The masked elder smiled, stretching a slit from ear to ear.
And then the world disappeared.
XXXX
But a new one appeared. Gray, dim, like the yellow-gray portraits of the dead that were in every house in Theorann.
The boys looked around.
– What is it? – Girim asked.
– I don’t know, maybe we’re dead? – suggested Maley.
– That monster killed us, and now we’re in limbo. That’s clear, – Taris sighed.
– What was that? Did Mr. Rumu really torture people? – Maley asked.
– It’s a devil’s circus and Mr. Rumu is a sorcerer, – said Taris confidently, -I heard him say it’s for candy, the bones will go for candy, they make candy from people and sell them to ordinary people!
The boys exhaled fearfully, even forgetting that they themselves were also victims of some terrible magic.
– And now he’s put a monster on us because we’ve seen so much. And he sent us to this afterlife, – Taris continued. He had unwittingly taken on the leadership role that Desti or Hakeem usually played.
Maley grunted.
– My parents will kill me if I don’t come home tonight. I’ve got Loska to milk.
– Look, we’re stuck in the afterlife and you’re worried about a goat! – Taris was outraged.
– But the goat has to be milked! – Maley argued vehemently.

I love to give joy to people

It was dark inside the barn, but the outlines of objects were visible. Damhan walked on, under another canopy of cobwebs, and Ned followed. He found himself in a bright hall, with silver swing chairs, many curly flowers on the walls, and a marvelous view beyond the large semicircular windows: a garden, a blossom valley, a great river or sea, and a sky filled with stars and galaxies, as if this view were in space. Ned stared at the unusual picture. Everything was bright, but only in black and white. Damhan waved his hand and bright colors flooded the view. Ned exhaled delightedly.
The monster immediately pulled the man to him by the neck and kissed him, trying to devour the delight. Something sparklingly delicious overshadowed even the rapture. Damhan groaned at the unexpected pleasure and recoiled in amazement, staring inquisitively into Ned’s eyes.
– Who are you?
Ned shrugged his shoulders.
– You’ve already asked. A human.
– Why can’t I take the emotion out of you completely? Why is there something in you that others don’t have?
– Well, maybe because you’ve only met people who carry other people’s emotions, and I have my own? – Ned grinned.

They aren't people

The trio walked down the path. There was no sun here, just a dull yellow sky hanging overhead. It was light enough, like a dark overcast day.
All around them, and on either side of the road, stretched fields.
– You can’t take anything from anyone here, you can’t eat or drink, if they treat you, you have to thank them, but refuse. Or pretend to drink. Otherwise you’ll stay here forever. Everything here is dead, and if you take anything, the dead will stay with you, – Taris warned.
– It’s like taking things from a dead man’s grave, – Guirim nodded.
– Look, when we get out, what are we going to do? Tell the guards? – Maley asked, – They torture people there.
– They aren’t people, they are dukes, counts, rich men, – said Guirim thoughtfully, – bloodsuckers of all kinds.
– But they’re still people, – Maley said doubtfully.
– People, indeed. These people flogged down my grandfather till death. Do you remember that Prince Voloshsky passed by us? My grandfather made him gold-coated horseshoes as he asked, but gold wears off quickly, so he rode to the nearest tavern and came back, saying that his grandfather had stolen his gold. And they flogged down him. So if this Rumu tortures people like Prince Voloshsky, I hold no grudges against him, – Guirim said.

Love with hazel eyes

Even darkness has a heart

There was a rumbling sound from the Black Abyss, as if a great fire were singing. The music fell silent, not on command, but the musicians, dazed, stopped playing. The crowd watched the white, graceful silhouette walk away into the misty darkness. Mayor Dosher stood with a frozen smile that seemed to be painted on a dramatically pale face.
Olaf was walking over the abyss, and it was billowing black mist beneath him. It was nothing, it was not the first chasm he had passed.
The darkness shimmered suddenly with a golden uneven net, multicolored lights ran across it, the black fog became sharply higher. Olaf was looking ahead, not down, so only by the edge of his eye did he notice the glow below. He reached the end and stepped onto the cliff.
The crowd exhaled as one man and exploded with cheering shouts and applause.
Klaus sighed and picked himself up. Now the most important thing was beginning – whether Abyss would let the young fool go or send some evil instead.

(Name suggested by Svetlana Volkova)

The Black Abyss

«I want you to leave, but not because you could somehow hinder me. For you», Klaus sighed, «and for the city. Our kingdom isn’t just walled off from the Dragon Mountains for no reason. There are roads through the Black Abyss, but only where it’s necessary. In Damar, one cannot just build a road. The mayor is young; he wants to be remembered. He’s a good mayor, but far too young, unaware of how things stand. That’s our fault too; we didn’t tell him in time. The Black Abyss is the place where all the evil of our kingdom converges. One must be very careful when building bridges and roads over it, and only with the permission of the Dragon Mountains’ masters. There lies the land of dragons. We circumvent these mountains, not just because they are mountains, difficult to survive, easy to fall, expensive to build upon, no. It’s forbidden land, not accessible to everyone. Where the dragons grant permission, there we have roads, held up by their nobility and kindness. And the evil of the Black Abyss, that’s our evil, which prevents us from merging with the land of dragons. We must eradicate it, then the abyss will disappear. But it cannot be crossed by a rope, especially if you’re angry with me.

Whispers of the Wood Nymphs

The Excellent Guardian

«Oh, I thought it was alive,» Yultan shook his head, dispelling the illusion.
«It is alive,» Kiro smirked, «It’s the forest guardian, Bazadzhon. You’re lucky; he’s in a good mood and happy to see us. Notice the green branch in his hands? If it were a dry branch, we’d have to take a detour.»
Yultan looked at the guide skeptically.
«You’re joking, right? You think because I believe in wood nymphs, you can pass off optical illusions as folklore tales?»
«Well, most folklore tales are, in essence, optical illusions.»
«And you say this living near the Wood Nymphs’ Gathering!» Yultan exclaimed in disbelief.
Kiro nodded and smirked again.
Yultan opened the shutter and aimed to photograph the strange horned tree. Kiro glanced at Bazadzhon, who seemed pleased to pose for the enthusiastic photographer. Like in a photoshoot, Yultan stepped back, lunged forward, gracefully bent to find a more interesting angle. Several times he nearly fell but somehow defied physics to stay on his feet.
Suddenly, something jerked Yultan, and gravity finally took hold. He turned to see Kiro holding him by the collar of his jacket.
«What are you doing?»
«Сareful! Уou can’t step here,» Kiro said, effortlessly pulling Yultan aside.
The folklorist, looking around for the forbidden, didn’t even try to get up. His amber gaze stumbled upon a circle of scorched grass.
«So it’s true! I knew it!» Yultan sprang to his feet, only to fall to his knees again, seemingly sniffing the withered line. «And they said the Gathering was no more.»
«It isn’t. Not in the ordinary world, but we are, so to speak, beyond the boundary. People can’t reach here. That’s why everything here is as it should be,» Kiro said, smiling at the tree, «Bazadzhon is an excellent guardian.»

Tree Artists

“Look there, that branch resembles a deer,” Yultan exclaimed with a spark of enthusiasm, gesturing towards the tree. “It’s as if it were alive, and over there — does that not look like a bat?”
His laughter echoed in the air.
“It seemed as though they were mid-party when they turned to stone,” he mused.
Kiro’s eyes followed the branches.
“It wasn’t a party; it was a battle. These trees draw history’s battles.”

Here the celebration is everlasting

Here the celebration is everlasting

“Where are you going? The fun has barely begun!” boomed a deep and spirited voice.

“Shall we… run away?” Narita proposed fearfully, her gaze fixed on the lights arranged into a smiling face.

“We’ve already tried,” Denis whispered, barely moving his lips, his eyes also locked on the monster.

“What do you want from us, let us go!” Narita cried hysterically, slipping off her shoe and hurling it at the beast. The shoe vanished into the smiling maw.

“Oh! I see you’re ready for the next attraction!” the radiant mouth exclaimed enthusiastically.

The pavement beneath their feet instantly turned to ice. Narita screamed in pain as her bare foot froze to the ground.

Teorann and its environs

The New Home

Olaf stumbled and came to a halt.
“Please, don’t dawdle,” his companion said evenly, though it was clear he was irritated.
“Why are the trees red?”
“It’s blood. What other color would it be?” the man explained impatiently. “Come on, move along!”
“I don’t want to,” Olaf shook his head.
“Then you have no choice,” his companion smirked. “The Black Abyss is a place of certainty. All choices are made above. Down here, you simply do as you’re told.”
“Who says?” Olaf retorted stubbornly.
“In your case — me,” the Abyss dweller began to spread darkness around him again.
“Alright! Alright! No need for darkness! I’ll go!” Olaf cried out, recalling the viscous non-existence.
The companion flashed a sharp smile and nodded towards the gates.

Beyond the Black Abyss

“What’s that?” asked Olaf.
“The dead part of the Dragon Land,” replied Rakyar.
“The afterlife?”
“No, this is where dragons live who weren’t accepted by the Magic of Nobility.”
“What does that mean?”
Rakyar curled his lip in contempt and shrugged.
“It means some dragons chose power. Upon gaining might, they decided it belonged to them.”
“Who does it belong to, then?”
“Everyone. They’re merely its conduits.”
“And that one who’s burning… is that his punishment, why is he sitting by the fire and burning himself?”
“Ah, no, that’s the Fire Keeper. It’s Rakyar. Like me. A curator. He’s here to guide those who’ve been saturated with the fire of knowledge back to the Dragon Land.”
“Why is he scorched?”
“Those who choose to illuminate others usually burn themselves. In darkness, all light is needed.”

The Monster’s Jealousy

“How does he handle that jealous demon? Or whatever he is…” Guard Rado shook his head, looking warily at the door behind which their boss and the lord of the underworld had disappeared.

“Well, he’s strong. He manages somehow,” Guard Karen shrugged.

“They say this monster gets angry at Lebada for every glance he makes.”

“Lebada is like the sun, attracting everyone. There’s always someone to be jealous of.”

“That’s true, but… it must be scary living with an undead creature. A jealous one at that.”

“It’s got to be tough, for sure.”

XXXX

“If you feed on even one emotion from someone other than me, just one, or even if you merely want to, or if I think you wanted to, you’ll go back to your imaginary realm to feed on dead scraps, got it?” Ned perched on the desk, arms crossed, staring at Damhan.

“I just looked at them. I wasn’t going to feed on them. I just found them touching… and cute. They were simply cute. I was just… comparing,” explained the Lord of the Underworld, sitting in a chair before Ned. “With us. I looked at them and started searching for whether we have something similar and where. That’s all. Why would I need to?!”

Damhan exclaimed with hysterical frustration, hugging Ned’s hips and burying his face in his stomach.

“You’re enough for me. You’ll always be enough. I’m just re-evaluating everything through you. Just comparing life with you,” the handsome monster of the underworld said. “I’m just learning, as you wanted me.”

Ned warmly and thoughtfully stroked his beloved’s hair, lifted his face, leaned down and kissed him, then pulled back, admiring him with a smile.

“Alright. Alright.”

XXXX

The guards listened to the lovers’ argument with a hint of fear, wondering if the undead monster might get angry.

A young guard, as sunny as Lebada but more naive and gentle, Lasur Veresk, smirked.

“It’s hard to tell who has it tougher with whom.”

The Lesson

“Be not naive, children. Believe not in foolish fairy tales. You are here because no one wants you. Yours shall be a life of hardship. And the first way to ease your burden – cast from your minds those deceitful rose-tinted hopes. You are children. You possess no rights, no voice, no property, no place in this world. Disobedient, vile, unpleasant, cruel you are. Any adult can subjugate you with ease. Punish, humiliate, hurt. Thus is the world arranged. Nay, not only here. Everywhere. Weak you remain.”

Teacher Ongsau prowled the classroom, his colorless eyes occasionally piercing into a student who would freeze until the teacher looked away. In his hand, he twirled a thin green-black cane with a leather strap at its end. It writhed like something alive between the man’s slender fingers, as if he were restraining rather than holding it, and should he release it, the cane would attack and beat everyone in the class.

“What is this?” demanded Ongsau, halting before the desk where Kira and Madzok sat.

Madzok tried to appear as innocent as possible, and perhaps it might have worked, but Kira immediately burst into tears.

“Forgive me, Teacher Ongsau, I… I was writing the assignment for the next lesson, because I… I wrote it, I did everything, but there was a smudge, and you know how strict Teacher Asfera is about smudges, and I, I noticed the smudge just before your lesson and… I wouldn’t have had time during the break… but I was listening to you, truly, I can repeat everything! Test me, please!”

“Forgive her,” Madzok pleaded.

“Forgive her, Teacher,” echoed another voice from the class.

This emboldened the children, and more voices arose.

Ongsau surveyed the class, finding himself at one of the desks where a pair of twins sat – also a boy and a girl. They had recently arrived at the orphanage.

“And what think you, Madhala? Shall I forgive Kira?” the teacher inquired.

“I would forgive her,” the girl shrugged, looking away.

“You would forgive,” the man nodded, “and you, Madh?”

“In my view, there is nothing to forgive, for she has done nothing requiring apology.”

The teacher nodded again.

“I. Cannot. Fathom. How. Else. To. Beat. Into. Your. Worthless. Skulls. That. There. Are. Rules. Which. Must. Not. Be. Broken.”

The cane seemed to wrench itself from the teacher’s hands and began to lash the students. First the twins, then all those who had spoken for Kira, then Madzok, and finally it reached Kira herself.

XXXX

“He always claimed we were cruel. So let us learn this lesson!” Madzok’s brown eyes blazed with fury.

The girls with faces disfigured by the cane, with bruises from the strap and scars from the thin rod, looked trustingly at their classmate.

“Here is what we shall do!” Madzok summoned the children.

XXXX

“What seek ye?” Ongsau turned from the cabinet upon seeing the cluster of children, “you have not my lesson now.”

“You’ve always declared us vile and cruel, Teacher, have you not? We’ve decided to agree!” Madzok sneered.

The teacher raised his eyebrows, but this was all he managed to do, for the swarm of children descended upon him, knocking him down, scratching and biting him.

“What do you, children?!” he exclaimed, but Kira sank her teeth into his throat, and the Teacher’s voice transformed into a gurgling rasp.

When it became evident that the cruel teacher was dead, they stepped back from him.

“Now we carry him to the pond, as agreed,” said Madzok. “And thus shall it be henceforth with anyone who offends us!”

Domes opened the door to the garden, the others lifted the teacher’s corpse in unison and bore it to the pond. Some children remained to erase the traces. The children cast the corpse into the pond, knowing that monsters would drag it to the bottom and devour it within minutes, yet they stood watching to make certain. Someone hurled a stone at the corpse. The others grew merry and also began to throw stones.

They had chosen the perfect hour; no one was in this part of the garden, and Armek with Kidrom kept watch lest someone appear.

“He got what he deserved!” Kira hissed.

“He got what he deserved!” the others echoed.

“Indeed, ’twas almost amusing,” they heard the caustic voice of Teacher Ongsau.

The children froze, looking with terror at the sinking corpse.

“I am here, behind you,” Ongsau said with contempt.

Some turned, others stood still, eyes shut tight.

“Stupid, lazy human larvae!” the teacher hissed, “is this how you learned your lesson? That you are cruel? What of the lesson that you are weak, that any adult can overpower you?! Imbeciles! To the punishment room, forthwith!”

“But how? It cannot be! It cannot be!” Mini began to hysteria.

“Aid your demented friend,” the teacher hissed, “and make haste. Come now, my cruel little merrymakers, if you wish to learn what cruelty truly is, I shall show you.”

If you are lucky

If you are lucky

“Your Highness!” the man called mockingly, his voice tinged with a playful sneer.

The girl let out an indignant, helpless cry, her protest ringing with desperation and futility.

“Leave me! Get away!” she shouted, sinking ever deeper into the snow but stubbornly pressing forward.

The man turned his darpia – the pride of Ashvaz – downward. The obedient darpian bird descended in a graceful arc, gliding toward the girl. Its colossal frame towered over her; one stride of its talons spanned the length of five human steps, making it all too convenient for the rider to snatch his fleeing quarry.

“Shahar, let me go! I’ll become queen, and I’ll banish you!” the girl shrieked, though her voice wavered and cracked. In the next instant, she collapsed against his chest, burying her face in his cloak. Her arms wrapped around his neck as sobs broke free, uncontrollable and raw.

Shahar laughed softly, that echoed the tenderness of a father comforting his child. Gently, he pressed her head to his cheek, a quiet reassurance. With a subtle motion, he signaled the darpia, whose long, elegant neck curved as it watched him. The bird spread its mighty wings and took flight, soaring into the endless expanse of sky, a crystalline blue that seemed to stretch into eternity. Below, the snow sparkled like diamond dust, bearing silent witness to yet another humiliation of the princess.

“I don’t want to go back to the palace! I won’t return, do you hear me? I’ll run away anyway!” the princess sobbed, her voice trembling with defiance and grief.

Shahar, commander of the royal guard, hesitated. He wanted to tell her to save her hopeless plans for her father, not waste them on him. Yet, the weight of too many reprimanding glances, too many memories, held his tongue. Instead, he sighed softly, a resignation settling over him like the falling snow.

“Liora…” he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle, a warning laced with understanding.

To be queen

So what actually happened to her? Why did this particular conversation with Shakhnaz lead her to the Decision? Was it the beauty of his seriousness that made her want to become such a friend to someone, the way Shakhnaz had been to her father? In fact, that is precisely the role of true beauty: to reveal itself — the beauty of being someone. And that is why only noble, responsible beauty deserves that name; everything else is merely a rough mold of beauty with a line of borrowed trust.

Maybe Shakhnaz really was a star, lighting the paths of those who had lost their way in the dark.

Maybe the welcoming circle of the strong — the confident Milad, who never sought any title at all (once he laughed at such a question from Liora and said that the title the king’s friend suited him perfectly), the beautiful forest princess Lonrahfar, who gave up the role of queen in order to live in a house by the royal preserve, Shakhar — well, Shakhar simply seemed to become closer and more accessible through this group; he did not truly reveal himself to her in any new way, she always remembered him nearby, always the same, always an inseparable part of her father — showed her the kind of genuine relationships she wanted to build in her own life as well.

Maybe the contrast with the relationships within the often ignoble youth of noble blood was simply too obvious.

Maybe she hadn’t noticed the difference before because that other level of closeness and relationship — those were her father’s friends, something distant and old, often moralizing and therefore dull, and the conversation with Shakhnaz showed her that there could be a place for her there as well.

Maybe the words about what it means to be a queen finally took on meaning, because she spoke with a peer who, in essence, already occupied such a position.

Whatever the case, her path was now illuminated, and she ran along it.

Вернуться
ДОНАТ

Добавить комментарий

just read