A meeting

Day and night the young man walked forward, not at all understanding the directions. Mountains towering far away served as a guide. During the day, the sky heavy from the clouds became a little lighter, at night the lifeless ashen landscape became monotonously black. In the bag presented by the old man, the young man found a flint and a knife. He quickly figured out how to use these tools and built a torch for himself. Having split a thick stick from one end, he secured a dry bark in a crack and set it on fire from his fire. The bark quickly burned out, but with this light source, at least, managed to continue its journey even at night.

A couple of days later, the young man realized that the old man's food was over. The only animals that came across him were ash moles. Large, three-kilogram animals sometimes blew up the earth and protruded their blunt muzzles to the surface to smell elevated smells. Often at the same moment they were overtaken by a well-launched spear of a young man, which he made from a staff, having sharpened one end with a knife. The roasted meat of ash moles was clearly lacking in salt, which the old man supplemented his dishes with.

On the third week of the journey, the young man came across a wide road. On it two deep ruts from the wheels were pressed, and also traces of savvy hooves were visible. Walking along the path was much easier, and now the young man could overcome long distances in a day. For hunting, he went out of the way and went deeper into the forest, where sometimes he came across large birds and wild dogs, fried meat of which was also suitable as food. There were much more water supplies than food, and therefore it was possible not to worry at least about this. At least for a while.

A few days later he first met the wanderer on the tract. He was a tall man, much older than a young man, wrapped up and down in a camping raincoat. Over his shoulder hung a bag of baggage. Only sparkling eyes peered out from under the hood: a cloak covered his mouth and nose from dust driven by the wind. Hearing the approach of a young man, he looked around.

- Where are you going? he asked without much interest.

- I don't know, - the young man answered, - Soon I will run out of water. - I need to find the Tree before this happens.

- I go to the village, which stands near the tract, in front. Its name is Putnaya, maybe you heard ...

- No.

- Never mind. It is built around a large, tall Oak tree on a hill. There you will get water. I plan to get there by the middle of tomorrow.

- Thank. Then I'll hurry, - the young man nodded and took a step. He quickly left the wanderer behind and reached the edge of a thick, withered forest. Here, having prepared brushwood, he decided to stay for a while to rest and eat. The bonfire quickly flared up and warmed the cool air around it. The guy was slowly eating the rest of the food, when he suddenly saw three emaciated figures standing on four legs in front. These were stray dogs. Skinny and shabby, they gritted their teeth, looking at the prey sitting by the fire. The light of fire and the smell of fried meat captured their attention from afar, and led to the traveler. The young man rose to his feet and clasped a spear in his hands. The animals began to slowly surround him. The teeth were already flapping a few steps away. The guy waved his spear and immediately all three dogs rushed to him. At that moment, the spear pierced the shoulder of one beast, but, unable to withstand the wild pressure, it broke in half. The dog's jaws closed on the guy's ankle. With a howl of pain, he struck with a sweep of the debris of the spear the creature ran up, but this drove her away only for a moment. Soon, powerful jaws closed on the man's left wrist. The young man suddenly felt genuine fear. The pain deafened him, his body grew cold, emitting jets of blood, and his eyes grew darker. Suddenly a whistle of dissected air was heard, and the pain in the leg became a little easier. Dog whining with a sharp needle pricked an ear. Gathering his strength, the guy opened his eyes and saw a tall man with a dirty sword in his hand. His face was framed by a beard with gray hair, his head was completely bald, and a gold earring glittered in one ear. From the strong shoulders of the warrior on the broad back, a cloak of rough tailoring fell. It was a wanderer met on the road. Having finished the last animal, the warrior hastened to bandage the guy's wounds.

- Lie down for an hour, - the wanderer said to the wounded man, - then we will move on. So be it, I will escort you to Putna. What's your name?

- Ishira ... - the young man whispered.

- The name given by а demon ... - the man muttered through his teeth, - I despise these names. My advice to you: invent a name for yourself. Do not live by their laws. Choose your own path.

- You arrived on time ... - the young man remarked. - What is your name?

- My name is Varaha Boar. I am a mercenary. Peasants pay me in silver so that I kill those who prevent them from living. Mostly robbers. By the way ... you could thank me. I understand that you were most likely born recently, but it is customary for people to thank for their help.

- Thank you ...

- Politeness in our world cannot be overestimated! - smiled Varaha.

Vakhara found for the young man a thick branch, diverging into two processes and, chopping off the excess, made a crutch out of it. Now, together they moved with the same leisurelyness with which the mercenary had recently walked by itself.

- If you hadn't run forward, you wouldn't have gotten into such a situation, - he laughed. - So you came up with a name for yourself? How can I call you?

- Invented, - the young man replied, - Call me the Vtorak, for I will always be second to you. I pray you, Vahara, teach me how to fight! Otherwise, the world will simply swallow me up, so weak. Later I will work out your lessons with a sword!

- My craft is not easy and it is very dangerous. Why do you need it? Stay in Putnaya. Ask for apprentice to a blacksmith or shoemaker. Live calmly. Do your thing. Start a family. You are young, for you now this is the surest way.

- What is the use of picking up a lot in my hands if I fail to keep everything? - stubbornly answered Vtorak, - If everyone can disturb my peace, burn the house and harm my family, why should I have them?

- If you succeed, you will always have money to hire people like me! - grinned Varaha.

- I want to rely on myself.

Varaha did not answer, pretending that he had not heard the last phrase. So two travelers went all day, until it became completely dark in the district. The young man's leg ached a lot, even though the mercenary put the powders from the healing herbs that he found at the edge of the forest under the band.

- Get up, you need to collect brushwood for a fire! - said Varaha and poked a young man settling on the ground with his foot in the side.

- I can't go ... my leg really hurts ...

- I see. That's why I do not make you hunt! If you want to survive on a big one, never relax. Now get up. Is that all you can?

The boy reluctantly obeyed. His bandages were already crimson with dark spots of blood, especially the one that was on his leg. He gathered brushwood and settled down by a stone-paved fire. Vahara soon returned with the carcass of an ash mole shot from a bow.

- How long have you been fighting a sword, Vahara?

- As long as I remember. I am a creature of a demon, just like you. While still young, I ended up in a gang of robbers. We robbed the villages. Since the kingdom of the sages fell, there was no one to protect the simple peasants and robbery became the most profitable.

- Why did you become a mercenary?

- Very soon, the villages lost everything that they had and many robbers realized that since they had nothing more to take from them, it would be more profitable to give them time to develop their farms, to have opportunity to collect the payment systematically. However, in order to have the opportunity to establish their own affairs, they needed protection from gangs. So part of the raiders became mercenaries. Here I am too. I thought I could find a better way than the one I followed.

- You said ... "The kingdom of the sages" ... what is it? - Varaha with a stick scattered the coals in a languishing fire. He already had enough heat to bake the freshened carcass, and he, having planted the animal on a stick, put it on the hornets stuck on both sides of the fire in the ground.

- All these lands once looked completely different. Here the rivers flowed and stood the cities of the Kingdom of the Great Clean and his wise disciples. At least that's what they say.

- Who's talking? - asked Vtorak interestedly, peering into the skin of the killed animal, bubbling over the fire. The young man moved closer to the coals, thereby disturbing his injured limbs. The wind blew right in the back and Varaha gave the guy his cloak.

- Look, don't get sick, boy, - said the mercenary. - If, in addition, you blow your back and you can't straighten up, I won't drag you to the village.

- Thank...

- Hm, - Varaha thought for a moment, - Usually old people tell all kinds

tales of the past greatness of the Pure Kings. You better ask them, not me.

- Did they really saw this pure kingdom?

- No, - the mercenary shook his head, - but they knew those who saw it.