Having borrowed a bridle from the blacksmith for a horse, the family of farmers, together with their mount, returned home. It was difficult to call this ruined building home now. Instead of windows and doors, black holes gaped. Around the charred walls lay scraps of cloth thrown out of the closets. Clay shards of broken utensils pave the floor of the hut. All food supplies have disappeared. Even for the horse there was no oats left. Vtorak crossed the threshold of the house when he suddenly heard a rustling in the far corner of the room. He froze and listened. For a long time... so long time he didn't have to fight at all, but now the old reflexes came to life again, having extended their eyes from many years of sleep. One leg stepped forward, and his hands prepared to repel a possible blow. An ashen man crawled out of the shadow, cautiously looking around like a beast. In his teeth, he squeezed a huge turnip pulled from under the floorboards of the house - the last cache of the family.
The savage's pupils narrowed, and he jumped on Vtorak. He caught barbarian and threw him away, seriously hitting his back against the wall. Food fell out of his teeth, in a scream of pain, but the ashen quickly came to his senses and took a new leap, intending to gnaw through Vtorak's neck. Having lost their balance, both fell to the floor in a fight. Vtorak with both hands held the jaws of a feral man clacking near his face, letting his fists smashed into his body. Suddenly he felt something warm touch him. He looked to the left and saw a small palm of his son on his shoulder. The boy looked him in the eye, holding out a captured bone blade. The next moment, Vtorak grabbed his weapon with his left hand and cut the ashen's throat. Blood poured down his face and chest, causing him to close his eyes.
Having risen to his feet after victory and having rubbed someone else's blood from his eyes, Vtorak examined the remains of the looter and the underground family cache. The fears were confirmed: there was nothing edible left in the whole house, except for bitten turnips. Also nothing metal left. In the landed doors and windows, the wind howled. Mara stood at the entrance, hugging her son. She was waiting for her husband's decision. He was silent for a long time and no one dared to break his silence with a word or a gesture. Thinking through everything, he finally said:
- We have nothing more to do here. We have to return to Novgrad. Our agricultural life has come to an end.
- But how do we live in the city? - asked Mara.
- I'm going to serve as a guard, - answered Vtorak.
- You have not held a sword in your hand for so long, you lost your fingers... don't think that I don't believe in you, dear, but will people believe in your fighting ability? Will they hire you?
- I hope people still remember who I was. Understand, Mara, there's no other way now. We would be able to live on the salary of the guard. I just need to... exercise a bit.
- Can you hold the sword with your right hand? - Worriedly asked the wife.
- No. But I will be able to teach accuracy to the left, - Vtorak answered confidently.
- So be it... - the woman answered.
The destitute family gathered their still usful things left after the raid and set off on the return trip. The city met them with fuss. No one paid attention to them. People scurried back and forth through the streets, restoring the ruined and looking for the stolen. The people complained about the guards, who failed to protect the belongings of the townspeople. Vtorak led the family straight to Uttama's house, for only she could help them now.
When the plowman's heavy fist gently knocked on the familiar door, Uttama opened it a bit and went out on the threshold. Once she brought the inhabitants of her village into the city, as many elders of the valley did. Now only strong fortress walls could protect them from ashen people and northerners. The whole valley has gathered in this city. At first, Vtorak was very happy about her appearance, but soon the abyss of worldly affairs swallowed him, and he stopped visiting the healer. Meanwhile, people managed to get to know her better and appreciate her wisdom and leadership qualities. Uttama joined the newly formed council of elders, as easily as if she had always been in it, and soon she was appointed one of the three supreme elders. Vtorak looked into her eyes and saw that she knew everything that he could say now. Despite the fact that they had not seen each other for a very long time, and Vtorak expected to receive a well-deserved reproach from her, an affable smile, as always, played on the lips of the old woman. Vtorak did not know where to start, and Mara and Udaya waited patiently for the head of the family to give their common request to the landlady.
- Everything is fine, you can live in my place, - the old woman broke the long silence, realizing that Vtorak could not say anything, - This mansion were rebuilt and given to me when I was appointed the supreme elder, and I don't know what to do with such a big house. To me, there are too many rooms. I live in one single room, in another my servant Rina lives, you can settle in any other.
- Thank you, we...
- We don't even know how to thank you, dear Uttama! - Mara finished the thought of her husband.
- I am always happy to help you, we are not strangers, - The old lady smiled. Vtorak was surprised to note that the elderly woman had not changed in any way since their last meeting. Not rejuvenating or aging, she remained exactly the same as in their first meeting, when Vtorak was incomparably younger. What strange magic feeds her powers? Is time really not dominant over she, or is it just an illusion? Vtorak could continue to reflect on all this, when suddenly he remembered another important request.
- Uttama, they took everything from us, and I can no longer sell the grown vegetables... I would like to join the guard service. Could you, please, help me with this...
- I already ordered Vyazem to take you, - the sorceress nodded. - You can go to him tomorrow. He will receive you.
- Uttama... thank you! How did you even know all this?
- I'm a witch after all, my business is to know. If my knowledge can help, I try to use it. Besides, you deserve my help.
Vtorak and Mara thanked the witch and took advantage of her invitation to settle in the house. The next day, Vtorak went to the castle, to the barracks of guards. Many young warriors who did not yet have their own families or houses lived there. There lived also the old combatant Vyazem. He was strict and tough, but tried to be fair. It was to him that Vtorak came in the early morning.
- What do you want? - Vyazem asked him.
- I want to serve as a guardian of Novgrad.
- Ofcource. Friendship with the elder of the council gives its advantages, yes? All roads are opened... all places are available. And then what? Do you want to take my place too?
- Come on, what are you weaving? We are familiar for a long time with her! Take me as a guard, I will prove that I am good in battle.
- You are good with a plow, - the guard commander replied with a sigh, - Okay, I know that. With a sword you are good... was. As they say.
- And they (whoever it is) say it right, - said Vtorak with pressure. He felt exorbitant power in himself and firmly decided that he would not leave the barracks until he received the weapons and armor of the city guard.
- And what's the point of this? - Vyazem raised his eyebrows. - Today you don't even hold your sword. Can you fight by your left hand? I thought so. What was there before does not bother me. I now need fighters. But not not memories about the past.
- Take it, you will not regret it! I'll learn to fight by left hand. Only take me on the service.
- Yes, I'll take you, what else I can do? - the warrior waved of his hand, - I can't dispute the order of the council. Just what should I do with you?
- Send me to a watch.
- And if something happens, what will you do?
- I'll get it somehow.
- Somehow... - Vyazem mimicked and thought, - I myself can't stand your brother's mercenary spirit. I have always served as a warrior in a squad of knyaz. There, the guys have a concept of honor. They are not chopped for death for sparkle coins. But I, too, on the other hand, have known you for a long time... you seem to be the right man. Okay. Here's what we'll do: we'll tie a shield to your right hand, and and you'll take an iron club in your left hand. It is not a sword: it will not require special accuracy.
- I agree. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
- No thanks to me. Judging by the latest raid, soon such times will come that not only crippled... but also children and women will learn to shoot from bows. And if not that they will crush us like a bug with the boot. And no walls will help. Okay. Go ahead. In the armory you can take what you like.
Vtorak bowed gratefully and went to serve. The service was hard. He stood on guard for twelve hours and returning home only to fall exhausted onto the bed and fall asleep. These were difficult times for the guards. The council ordered the patrols to double after the attack, and all forces were thrown at it. But Vtorak did not complain. He got used to hard work and was humble and submissive where young people sometimes could not stand it. Fatigue overcame them. Sometimes there were not even days to rest, however, such was the price of peace for civilians.
One evening, Uttama called Vtorak to her. He entered her room and sat in front of her waiting. Smiling, the witch looked at the warrior, carefully, as if admiring her own creation. Finally, she spoke to him.
- Vtorak, my boy... I have very little time left. Therefore, I want to give you the last and most important advice.
- What are you talking about, Uttama! Time has no power over you ...
- My time is coming, believe me. So sweet that you care about my departure, but still it is inevitable and you have to accept it. An excessive burden has landed on your shoulders since your were born. You have gone through a lot, but your path is still not finished. Remember, Vtorak... soon a new blinding light will appear in this world. I will not tell you who will become its bearer, but this Pure one will surpass all who preceded him in his deeds. Your fate is inextricably linked with this event. A new world will clear the sky and return the stormy rivers to these lands, lifting them from the underground halls. Crows - the eternal companions of the Pure - will return here. Not long left to suffer these lands. Their holy dawn is approaching. Vtorak... you will be incredibly important at this time. Without you, darkness will absorb the light of the emerging day.
- You want to say... - thought Vtorak, - I will have to become Pure?
- I won't tell you directly so as not to affect your actions, - answered Uttama. - All I can say is that you must correctly go to your goal so that this prediction comes true. Promise me.
- I promise.
- I want to believe that you will succeed. You are an integral part of the world and you must complete what was intended. You must contribute. Remember, Vtorak, what you now think is a mistake or a bad choice can have an unexpectedly bright impact on the future. All that is required of you is to go forward.
- I don't understand... - Vtorak shook his head. - How many things were destroyed along the way by my efforts. You were a witness to the destruction that happened through my fault. And now you say that all this will one day benefit?
- That's right, there is no denying this possibility, - Uttama smiled.
- Well, then tell me how I helped you when all the houses of the village and its tree perished in the fire? - Vtorak looked directly into the eyes of the witch, honestly trying to find there even a shadow of doubt. However, the old woman only squinted at them more, blurry in a smile. She gently laid a hand on the man's shoulder.
- Sometimes you need to destroy the old and create a new one in its place. Thanks to you, we have moved to the best lands. The peasants would never have done this if it had not been for the fire. Our new tree gave more water, and ash turnips grew better in the new lands. Our peasants are never confessed, but deep down in their hearts they rejoiced at the loss, which helped them find a new home.
- Why aren't they confessed?
- Many people are afraid of change. But change, unfortunately, is natural. Life never freezes, it is always in motion. It takes effort and energy. And it, of course, has a source - the struggle, - Uttama sustained a significant pause and only after that she continued, - If you ask me, then, of course, I will tell you that life is worth spending on creating. However, in the past, everyone had bad episodes, when he destroyed something important, which he later regretted. And you, Vtorak, even after so many years recall those events and still reproach yourself for them, but you don't need to. You did what you did. Darkness has as many rights in the world as light. The struggle of light and darkness is the true engine of life! The servants of darkness have always been, they are and will be. But to whom do they harm?
This in the first place quastion. No, not to the universe. It will survive them and us, without even noticing. Evil people only harm themselves... That's why I want you to throw away the sorrow of the accomplished and just move on.
- Uttama, - Vtorak frowned. - When Mara and I came to you together for the first time... you gave me a choice. You wanted me to continue to be a warrior, but I chose peace and tranquility. I thought that then I forever abandoned the fate prepared for me. But now you say...
- The destined cannot be rejected, - the witch explained softly, - Then I just didn't want the valley to lose such an experienced warrior as you. But you made your choice and forgot about weapons for a long time, -
Vtorak grinned.
- Well, look at me now, - the man said ironically, - I serve as a guard. I wear armor and weapons again. I returned to this anyway.
- Destiny cannot be avoided, - Uttama agreed. - Remember. Reaching the end is your main task. I always believed in you.
- I wanted to ask…
- Yes? - Vtorak thought, and only having prepared a question asked her.
- Why does Orrick do what he does? Why is he doing so much destruction? Why is he in this world?
- You see, for him this world is just a night dream. You already know that, right? He told you about it. But, unfortunately, he is who he is. Not only here, but also in his own world too.
- Is there really nothing good about him?
- Why? - surprised Uttama, - He is smart, very talented. Here he also gained power. He has no equal in this world. Neither in power, nor in the mind. That is what allows him to show tyranny and not to reckon with the laws of the world. What is holy to you is nothing to him. As far as I know, he was always like that.
- Is he smarter than everyone in this world? Is he even smarter than you? - said Vtorak. Uttama laughed.
- I must have put it wrong, - she said, - He is smarter and more talented than anyone he knows in this world. He is not aware that I am here. Well, it's time to say goodbye. It was an honor to know you, Vtorak from the ashen valley. Promise that you will complete your journey!
- I'll get there, Uttama. I will do whatever it takes.
Vtorak left the room of the witch. He could not believe that the all-knowing woman, over whom time does not have power, seriously started talking about her own death. The next day, Vtorak came to the service and almost immediately found out that Vyazem had called him and two more young guards - Koba and Sonmar - to himself in order to give a special task. When all three appeared in front of his desk, the guard commander said that people began to see near the eastern hills a strange hermit who never contacted them, although he noticed them several times. They were afraid to approach, but if a person did not serve as a scout for the northerners, it was necessary to at least try to invite him to the city. Vtorak knew firsthand how dangerous it was to live in the distance now, and so he happily agreed to go. The youth was dissatisfied with the order, although it did not immediately show. They did not like the prospect of spending the whole day on the way to the indicated place and another day on the way back, but they did not dare to object. The three warriors left the city.
Long and hard was their way. The north wind brought snow from the glaciers and turned up ash whirls. He could not reach the foot of the mountains even in all his might, but the weakened gusts brought with him snowflakes and the cold of the glacier, penetrating through clothes to the bones. On the gentle slopes of the foothills, soldiers followed each other in silence, for everyone could only think about what could lie ahead. If the mysterious hermit lived far from people, it means that he was not afraid of the northerners, who now filled the entire valley. And with one who alone could give them a worthy rebuff, it was worth being careful. Suddenly, in the silence, the young guard's voice sounded. The boy was overwhelmed with thoughts and he could no longer stand oppressive silence.
- I heard that somewhere in these mountains there is a whole lake of clean water, - Koba said suddenly, staring at the mountains on his right hand, "why didn't we send scouts there?"
- This lake is sacred, - snapped Sonmar, - you can't just take water from it. The Mountain God will be angry.
- What other mountain god is this? - did not believe Koba.
- There is one... He is tall like a tower, and from his shoulders six arms grow at once. He has one flaming eye in his forehead, and he hides the other two in a chest. In appearance you cannot say that he is very smart, but in fact he is the wisest and oldest inhabitant of the valley.
- Liar! - waved his hand Koba. Vtorak also smiled involuntarily, - You do not believe him too, master Vtorak?
- Go to hell, - snapped Sonmar.
- I don't even know, - answered Vtorak, - Look!
On one of the cliffs, they noticed a high watchtower. She towered as a black claw in the fog above the surrounding lands. Vtorak offered to watch vicinity from it, and the rest agreed. A narrow path led to it, lost between the sharp spurs of the mountain. The path obediently skirted the huge boulders, but was not afraid of gorges, throwing stone bridges over them, built in ancient times. The sentinels stepped on it and only at dusk reached the entrance to the tower.
- It smells strange here... - the young guard observed.
- Old blood smells like it, son, - Varaha answered calmly. The warriors behind him drew their swords. Pulling a torch from his bag, Varaha set fire to it with a flint and lit the room with flame. A trembling light fell on the walls and floor, illuminating a gloomy heap in the distance, lying under the ascending spiral of a spiral staircase. Vtorak came closer. A pile of rags sometimes jerked unnaturally. It soon became clear that this was a man. Vtorak turned him over onto his back and, to his horror, saw the face of a wounded and aged man... Varaha.