Book-1 Tir novella

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: