Book-1 Tir novella

Tir heard singing, no matter succumbing to death waiting. Desert Song continued with each passing minute, getting louder and more intense. Tir suddenly felt the desire was retreat somewhere in memory, fatigue stretched behind him. This went on for a good elbow the way the shadows of the head of Tir, which moved along the sand. Tiredness suddenly gone, it seemed forever, giving way to desperately thirst for life. Tir furious on his feet. Feeling the rush of vitality,

He frantically rushed to the dune. No strength in it at the sand ridge. But the desert was too late. This time, Tir collapsed without feeling on top. When he came to, the sun was already concerned

horizon, fairly losing his hot light. In the evening it looked like the rays of Tir pathetic creature of nature. Dirty piece gray fabric a little touch of the body hanging on the hips. Those who are sentenced Prince Lakiya to a slow death of hell sands, took care of it, leaving nothing to wear.

Tir meanwhile touched myself, the skin does not have time to burn, said in a recent sunburn, abrasions and wounds were not. Only his head ached. Darkness was aching, reducible, a strong blow fell on her. To drive away the pain, Tir untied the knot, took off the bandage from the hips, then carefully wrapped the cloth head. From this head began to hurt less, and dried blood on the top of the head support is now not only the hair. This done, he began to look for the causes of what happened in concentration. Whined softly wind rustling grain on the tops of the dunes.

The sun has almost disappeared behind a solid line undulating sand. Day waning. In the air, there were the first signs of coolness coming with the setting sun. Howl disappeared a little sigh of wind

nearly fumbled the dirty mop of hair, stray from the bandage on his head and shoulders heaped grain, like salt. His head in his hands. Tir sat on the sand. Calm gradually

back to him. Finally, he drew attention to the bruise. His fingers gently groped clotted blood clot under the fabric, solid lump His fingers gently groped clotted blood clot under the fabric, glue together a solid lump of hair. The blow fell in passing that spared skull and saved Tir from death. A wave of anger swept over her mind. Shooting range on his feet, the sand immediately embraced gently feet to the ankles.

– Can you hear me, scorching hell! I, Crown Prince of Lakiya, Tir, challenge you! – Pompously he shouted. Own voice gave strength. Evening coolness cheered, cool hot body. He threw back his voice. A myriad of stars shining in the night sky, beckoning bright like neon light dots.

He found among them the North Star and their bearings for her, moved to the West…

Deserted, teasing, eye-catching to Tir, the seventh day of the journey. The day that was carrying on his shoulders the hot muzzle of the Sun. Except the sun did not seem to be around, it displaced the air, cold night life. Now the main thing – to find a shelter to wait for the desired pm and again go under the cold starlight night. But where in the wilderness will find at least a piece of shade when the sun is everywhere. Even animals do not know the rest and deeply buried in quicksand.

On the first day of the journey Tir followed the example of the desert and nearly suffocated in his sandy-haven hole. He was saved small grove of Saksaulov. Tir from last forces scored parched twigs, a tent was made, the shadow attained at. Now on his way West was in search of such groves. Until that time, he was lucky, and here today in front of tired eyes stretched boundless waves

dunes. Tyr took a deep breath, the sun has not yet reached its hot zenith, there was still time. Desert, tropics, hot during the day and cold at night, made it possible to cool the remains trapped at a shallow depth of sand dunes. If, to burrow into the sand on the shady side, you can wait until the evening, when the sun will bow to a close and touch the coolness of grains of sand can go the road. And Tir was burrowing into the sand. As can be deeper, as can be farther away from the deadly rays of radiant shine. He rowed his hands almost hot sand, getting the coveted coolness, and his hands would not obey. Fatigue squeezed the breath. Grains of sand, salt bitterness, crunched on the teeth, draining moisture from the remnants of cracked rough tongue swollen and bleeding lips. When the dune slope was a small step. Tir bandage wrapped from head to protect the nose and mouth from the sand. Then he began to dig into the dune until a thick layer of sand is not cold hid the body. “If you do not stay alive, here is my grave.” – He thought in those terrible moments. Buried alive, it does not reappear. Still, life is still warm in the body, it was shivering, like heat, which means he’s still alive. Heat it. First gradually, with an incredibly creepy slow, it drives away the cold, growing to unbearable heat… As the day ended, Tir did not remember. By the fact

it returned the cold. He fueled the pitiful remnants of the forces that made awaken consciousness. Tir got outside. He was shaking from the cold. Reigned around the darkness of the night, only stars twinkle in the sky, always inviting, giving hope. Looking at the North Star, Tir moved on. His journey is endless agonizing climbs on loose and rolling down the slopes. When the moon is sharp horn of the village on the horizon, the edge of the sky at East erupted. The stars that twinkled merrily, suddenly faded, and have gathered off the night sky. Suddenly he heard a woman crying is far from clear, as if someone desperately shouting or calling for help. His heart beat in his chest. Tir, gathered his strength, rushed to where the voice was coming. He overcame three small sand dune. At the top of the fourth, he again opened vast panorama of the desert. And there, in the distance, judging by the stars, in the south-west, over the horizon, could see a bunch of green vegetation. The voice seemed to came from different directions, and the sound was clearer now there. But with the first pink colors of the dawn, the voice disappeared into space, disappeared. Dawn grow stronger and already the sun slowly rose over the horizon. In the pale gloom gave melted wavy strip of greenery, to which his gaze, as their last hope of life. Tir strode forward. Legs almost did not obey; the brain molten lead broke the skull. Collecting the last of his strength, Tir was moving forward. The reality was a little ghostly. On knew that already trudged through the dead are nameless city, a voice that sounded feminine cry, belonged to a jackal pack, follow in his footsteps. Tir stubbornly trudging to their landmark that now loomed two very tall palm trees with green ball fruits that grow on the very top. Near the foot of one of them ran merry brook that formed a small puddle or a small lake. With little lake water evaporates so quickly that trickle barely had time to fill it. Tir fell right in the middle of a cool little lake, he drank greedily

Shake a little salt water, feeling the moisture poured on the hot body. As if in a dream, he drank and drank, unable to quench their thirst. Belly swelled. Tir finally got on dry sand. Its sick. But that was almost a dream. Exhausted, he forgot himself under the shade of palm crowns saving…

East, like the cool palm, the breeze gently touched whiskey sleeping in the shade of palm trees at the little lake. Then angrily threw a handful of hot sand in the screwed-up eyes gray animal, pursues all over the man, and flew far, far away in the heavenly blue, where you can escape the heat and enjoy the domed minaret there a deserted city, sing in the towers, announcing the arrival of the evening chill lonely walls as he did many centuries ago, when the city lived and the streets were filled with colorful clothes of men and women, screaming kids and pets. Wind been waiting for the return of the people. Waited and when tired returned from a long trip and was unable to find the city, and only one tower pointed to the fact that the city was buried under a thick layer of sand, a long-time enemy of the west wind. Since then, the East wind Unnamed not leave town. He ceased to mourn the people buried in the streets. He roared furiously, throwing bales of sand directly hating the West in the face of wind. This went on day and at night as long as the streets of the city do not rise before a mighty punch in its pristine glory. But strangely, the people were gone, only the white bones of men so frightened gaping eye sockets of the skull, which here and there, lying across his path. Wind living searched everywhere. Flew through the window frames in the wine cellar, where rows and rows of huge barrels of unfinished wine. He knew that the wine is there, because even on the tables were full of mugs. He knew that the surviving people come back and will finish wine. He peered into a luxurious palace, where the pools still not so long ago was splashing the water clear, and now lay sand and again trying to convince himself that the people will return here to clear pools, fountains start, grow flowers. But the days passed after day, were the years of the century. Crack walls of the city, a beautiful mosaic domes, like fish scales, flew down. Wind angry at people for what they did not return to collect and bury the remains of the brothers and the city once again give life to his presence. He cursed them and wanted to get even more to one of them. He certainly would punish him for such a folly – throw city gray jackals, these vile creatures that feed on carrion. Once anger at people become intolerable. Wind attacked the palm trees. He frantically tore their leaves, fruits, and was still only when he saw the sand broken one of them. He very grieved over it. Palma will never rose above desert. And then, finally, man. Oh, he’s out and the East Wind, to give it all to open the door to the secret treasure of the dead city, make man the lord of the palaces. Tir opened his eyes. High above the broad leaves rustled two palm trees, broken trunk, a third lying on the hot sand to the crown lakes. The evening sun rays stretched copper on trees which now resembled bronze column. Lakeland, which saved Tir from thirst, as if burned in the sunlight, throwing handfuls of gold coins, rabbits feet, pathetic grass that grew just something where there near the little lake. Pleasant coolness poured on the tortured body, returning to the reality of Tir. He looked up, then sat down and looked around. Unfamiliar place seemed ghostly vision. He rubbed his eyes. No, it’s not a mirage. The water here, there, then life. A wave of joy eyes watered. Tir fell to the ground. Hot tears rolled down doling Dirty cheeks. Tir gradually calmed down. Memory painted dark day’s journey. For a moment it seemed that it was a dream, a vision of the desert and the unbearable heat. He remembered everything that happened to him. Seven days without food and water under a withering sun of the desert – no, it cannot be repeated. Do not want even think about the continuation of the way. Though little lake water and gave him drink. But hunger was left. He saw in the sand a few round, the size of a human head, the fruit. Hardly picked up one, exhausted hands. He wanted to smash a coconut hit one of the other, but the venture failed. Only overpower even more, he collapsed with a nut in his hand in the shadow of palm trees on the soft sand. Catching his breath, Tir, as in a dream staggered slowly to his feet. View opened half filled with sand wall of a guard tower towering gate. Even now, the wall was still high. Tyr went to the gate closes baggy folds into the city. He, though not explicitly, still remembered that there was to the healing spring across the city through the open gate. And someone closed the door behind him, and maybe it made the wind?

– Hey-ho! Is there anyone? – Shouted Tir.

– Who-who-who? – Echoed through the city. Tir’s listened. Dead silence reigned there. Fear, like ants crawling on a swarm the back. As if someone’s gaze followed him. An unpleasant chills ran through his body. Tir involuntarily looked up. No one was not in a narrow loophole the Watchtower: “Probably, there in the darkness of the shadow sits this savage!.”, He thought.

Tir still moved forward. Comforting thought that if someone he wanted to find something that someone would already have done it. Cheered up these thoughts, he forcefully pushed the gate leaf. Bloodcurdling screech broke the silence. He saw a narrow street, in the middle of which could be seen distinctly human footprints. He is excited with joy looking at them, afraid of only one, and suddenly it a mirage? But the sigh of disappointment escaped from the emaciated chest, it’s his own trail! West Wind “sarcastically observes” pathetic, leather-wrapped human a skeleton, suddenly come to life in a ghost town. Stealthily, so as not to wake his longtime opponent of the Eastern wind, so the people who loved and defended, Western, when a man was lying senseless in the shade of palm trees, closed the gate leaf. Tir moved along the ruins. The sun almost touching

horizon, casting the surviving walls of the long shadows on the street. Need to find a home somewhere to gather strength. As I was struck by the surviving structure of a rectangular shape with a flat roof. Tir went there. He crossed the area, which ended in the street. Evening cool is eager body, but from the ruins of clay, both on the stove has cooled down, still smacked of heat. Black hole entrance wafted “mold” the dungeon. Tir the stone steps down to a spacious hall. Twilight of the indoor space of the room made it difficult to discern. Gradually his eyes adapted and Tir was able to see a short, round tables, covered with decayed rags, cups on the tables. Tir curiously approached. Bronze bowl with a thread made with great skill, were filled with sand. He took one and held it up for a better look over to the window, carving on bronze striking beauty. Last glare of the setting sun still penetrated the city and the remnants of light fell into the square hole of the window illuminating the gloom Zaal. On the table, next to the bowls were bowls. Hearth in the middle of the hall. There, on the circuit was a huge cauldron filled with sand.

– “Apparently this is the hall where the mob is going on holidays for entertainment events. – Tir – guessed it – then there must be a wine cellar!”

Tir almost groping got to the entrance to the cellar. Foot felt the first step in the darkness that enveloped the entrance to the basement, went down. There was groping explore the basement and soon came across a wet barrel, then another one, again and again. Below, on one of the barrels, he felt the wooden plug sticking out of the barrel, as the mote out of a tree trunk. Tyr tried to move her, to no avail. Then gather strength struck the foot traffic, there is no result. Fatigue fell upon a new force made drops on the cold and wet ground cellar. Hands in the dark looking for the support and stumbled upon a small stone. Tir was on his knees and felt the cork, hit it, trying to dislodge it. Knock tree stone silence woke. Thud of wood stone silence woke the dungeon, but cork resist. Slightly moving spirit, he resumed his pounding stone on wooden bitches. And bough broke. Forces again left him with his knees, he slid down and this time he found himself in a sticky wet and smelling delicious wine puddle. Tir touched the place where the broken tube. Oh! Miracle! there trickled wine! He set his hand and when without waiting in the palm would be enough wine, eagerly licking small portions with wet hands. This went on until the power finally left him… Tir came out of the cellar, he did not remember, but he had to spend the night at a round table at which He brushed his hand decayed rags with sand. Night came out cold. Sleep is coming, the heat by covering the body and disappear, threading needles cold. Tyr at such moments crook into a ball, pressing his feet and hands to his chest. “That morning! – He amused himself! – I will find fuel and light a fire the next night, it will be warm, the night will be warm. “From these thoughts Tir getting warmer, and again he forgot himself in his sleep. As the sun rose above the horizon and drove cool off. Sweet Dream swept Tir. first time in eight nights, he was fast asleep. I woke up only when the heat, extending its tentacles in the window, got to him, pulled the rest of sleep. Tir opened his eyes blinding shaft of light slashed like a blade. For a moment it seemed that a shadow flickered and disappeared. Tir jumped up and found that a piece of cotton patched in many places robe hid it at night. Looking around closely, he saw that the fire is smoldering under the cauldron, and from it comes the delicious smell. But to detect the presence of man, he could not. As if he is on fire in the hearth fire and cooked him a delicious blue of the game. Without hesitation Tir rushed to Kazan and scooping hot ladle blue left behind by someone, burning and choking, greedily ate the contents. And only when the bottom of a drop not left and hunger with a vengeance whipped eat several servings, he found that the food is no more…

Tir gradually regained strength. Day, one after another, stretched and repetitive sequences of the day and night. In the morning he found in a cauldron all large portions of soup, and one day even caught a piece of meat, daily activities likely it was meat Coney. Desert under a giant roof of blue sky appeared trap, the city, I saved – crypt. Dead silence reigned everywhere. Blinding rays

drove all live in deep burrows, were forced to dig into the thick a layer of sand, and in the evening, little lake, drink Tir, livestock neighborhoods gathered at the watering hole. And since the advent of the cool night just so they could hear noises whining jackals. Neither eat nor drink it no longer wanted, the mysterious savior regularly fed him. The wine cellar of the healing balm, entering the body, quenches thirst, doubled the feeble strength. By returning to Tir erstwhile confidence in themselves, in their sole purpose, as the Crown Prince of Lakiya. But who his mysterious savior? So clean burn hall. So carefully placed antique cups on the tables. And most importantly, who cooks his food in a cauldron? Tyr decided to put an end to the mystery and waiting for the night, pretending to be asleep. Waited, lying on his bed, a table, covered with a piece of patched robe. In the morning again was cooked in a cauldron food. Tir did not keep track, because sleeping dead sleep a healthy young man, reinforcing forces, each time before going to bed, old mellow wine from the barrel cellar. Accustomed from childhood to the concerns of the palace cooks, he was not particularly trying to track down a mysterious well-wisher, taking food in the morning, for granted. His thoughts began to occupy an enemy shot and brought down his plane. Who is this messenger of war? Thousands of times asked myself Tier one and the same question, but found he was unable to. With thoughts of intendents came just hate… One morning, awakened by the chill of Tir. Something was pressing on his chest, taking away heat. He opened his eyes. Chilling fear pierced like an arrow out. On the chest, coiled, dozing huge venomous viper. Her head was turned to the side of the chin of Tir and a forked tongue, occasionally popped out and tickled the grown stubble. Thoughts were worn in the head of Tir, replacing one the bullets in automatic weapons. But give in to fear, as the crown prince, he timidly Lakiya. Willpower Tir resisted the treacherous “boom” of fear and has become coolly weigh the situation. The first thing to do is not moving, try not to be hung. Snakes do not attack the dead, and with the rising of the sun is closer to the zenith and c increasing solar heat ebbs snake. Sooner or later it crawl away a wet and cool cellar. And Tir, with “iron” was the calm biding. Suddenly the rapidity with lightning someone’s hand shot up and the snake’s head, flying high above the chest of Tir, fluttered in the strong fingers stranger. Prince, as required by court etiquette, though he is now not in the palace, but all the same with slow dignity, sat up in his bed, a table and arrogantly began to consider their savior. It was a woman wrapped in rags, the former was once black robes from head to toe. Scraps hung up on her heels and black boys’ feet of dirt, exposing the white body through the hole. Her face Tir could not see because it was closed once black and now bloomed in the sun to a pale gray scarf. Only his eyes, large very rich black “olives”, looked at him warily. But it lasted for a few moments, then pulled out a stranger with his free hand, from some scraps of clothes, and a curved dagger in an instant cut off the snake’s head. Tir curiously watched her as the one without turning no attention to the prince, quick and deft movement dragged the cord tail of the snake made from coconut fibers. Then tied the loose end of the lace hook driven into the wall and held up a clay bowl on the floor under the bottom of a headless snake. There has bled red snake blood flowed. A woman is, wielding a dagger, ripped belly snake and took out her insides neatly placed next to a bowl. From this flowed the blood is stronger in the bowl, and the still-beating heart she enthusiastically winner, brought to Tir. She gestures, trying to persuade the prince began to offer to eat rawer and has a beating heart, gesticulating vigorously that it will give him supernatural powers and make him invincible in the enemy camp. He dismissed a grand gesture with his hand fluttered to her snake heart from him, and pompously uttered: