Hatred

Vtorak opened his eyes slightly, raised himself up on his elbows, and immediately got a sharp slap in the face. His head was spinning, and the young man almost fell out of bed. Out of surprise, violent anger arose in him, the boy growled before he managed to notice the mercenary hanging over him.

- Stop it! You will hurt him! – Boy heard the voice of Uttama.

- What the hell was that?! - exclaimed near him Varaha. Vtorak again tried to rise. A wound on his stomach, from a knife, was terribly painful.

- Nothing, - the boy managed, clutching his head with his hand. - She attacked me with a knife. Girl... daughter of that old man...

- What the hell? Who is that "old man"?! - shouted the mercenary. Indeed, with all his strength, he restrained himself from not giving the boy another full-fledged slap.

- That mercenary... I chopped off his hand. And now his daughter hates me...

- Ha! - Varaha swirl around and left the room, so he was annoyed now by his own young and stupid apprentice. However, what has been done - is done.

- The villagers are completely mad, - said Uttama, - You would have been hanged if Varaha hadn't beat you off and brought you here. They think that you...

- I know what they think! - snapped Vtorak. His head was heavy, not allowing him to think normally, his stomach ached from an unhealed wound, and Varaha did not at all help his health with his blow. He wanted to scream because of all this: he had to deal with peasants. The young man put his feet to the floor, and another wave of incredible pain pierced his body, - She attacked me. I just defended myself...

- Stop, what do you want to do? - scared Uttama, when the boy made a decisive, but doomed to failure, attempt to rise.

- I have to talk to them...

- No, I shouldn't! - Varaha reappeared in the room, - I will talk to them. Myself. They will just throw stones at you, or even lift you on the pitchfork. They will not listen to you.

- Yes, Varaha, go ahead, - Uttama nodded, and Varaha stepped out of the hut. She carefully put Vtorak back on the bed.

- What will happen to as now, Uttama?.. - he whispered. The witch smiled and ran a hand through the hair of a young mercenary.

- Something old will turn to dust, and something new will be born. You will justify your real name, Ishira.

- How do you know that?

- I know more than you think. Akshayah gives us names for a reason. You are a fire that will burn a lot in its path. Do not be sad that you will destroy something, because this is your bright destiny. I am sure you can bring people the warmth that they are waiting for. At the right time.

- I did not want everything to be so. That man... I didn't really want to…

- I know, - the woman smiled again. - He is a disgusting and miserable creature.

- Why do such people live in the world? - Vtorak looked Uttama directly in the eyes. In her eyes he was desperately looking for an answer. Suddenly he remembered the words of Orrick, - Because our world is so deep the divine light does not reach him?

- Of course not, - the witch laughed, - Darkness is nothing. Light is everything. Even if our world seems gloomy from the side, nevertheless, once it was created by someone. And, I am sure that this someone loved very much and continues to love his creation. Such is the nature of the creator: when creating, he puts light into every detail. Darkness cannot create anything. Darkness can only appropriate.

- But then why is there so much darkness around?"

- Not so much. It all depends on what you are looking at. Light and shadow go hand in hand forever. Darkness is visible to everyone, it is easy to see it. But to see the light, you need to learn and you got to wish to see it.

- To study?

- Yes. In every event, in every person, even the worst looking, there is something good. Try to see it.

- But what good is this old bouncer? - Gritted boy through the teeth.

- And what's so bad? - smiled Uttama, - Stupidity has never been a vice. And if you can see it, if you are smarter, take care of someone who is not so smart. If you are stronger, take care of the weak. If richer - take care of the poor.

- What for?

- Because otherwise you will be no better than those you despise.

- Why should I be better than anyone?

- There are many reasons. But, for starters, at least not to suffer.

- From what?

- From dark emotions. They are tormenting. Enslave. Dazzle. Envy, hatred, rage, greed... they all eat a person from the inside. Just as a thirst for revenge swallowed that mess, so another powerful feeling can swallow anyone.

- That thing... it's terrible... she suffered so much. I saw how she suffered! Howled all the time...

- Uttama! - Varaha ran in with a drawn sword, - They do not listen! That girl is with them, she just inflames them! Convince the people, witch! They will listen to you!

- Not now, - the woman answered calmly.

- Not now?! But when?! They are getting ready to set fire to your hut!

- In my basement there is a digging, the course leads to the forest. Take the boy in your arms and lock the door. We will exit through this hole.

Varaha wanted to challenge the decision, but Uttama discouraged his impulse with just a glance. The mercenary obediently raised the young man in his arms and followed the witch. After walking along a dry corridor overgrown with cobwebs, all three reached a well-lit up exit, securely hidden from prying eyes at the bottom of a rather deep ravine. Slipping on the crumbling clay climbs, they climbed out of the earthen cleft.

- Where should we go now? - asked Varaha.

- Back, - Uttama said calmly.

- What?! We just got out!

- We got out so as not to burn alive in my hut, but not to run away, - the mercenary was amazed by the coolness of the witch, but humbly followed her further, towards the village. Even from afar, it was easy to see a tall column of black smoke stretching from the thatched roof of Uttama's hut. Enraged peasants, with red faces with rage, threw torches at the old woman's house. However, they did not cry for long and rejoiced. The rising wind first blew up the conflagration they had begun, to the joyful exclamations of the crowd, after which he sharply pressed his tongues to the ground, singeing the hands and faces of several peasants. The wind did not stop until the fire spread to several more houses. Panic settled in the hearts of the people. Varaha looked at the woman in surprise:

- Did you do that?

- Does it look like I can? - Uttama looked at the mercenary. - They did it themselves. I was only given to know a little more than the rest.

- Did you know that this is exactly what will happen??

- Maybe.

- Fire is always terrible. It is impossible to resist the fire, - said Varaha, watching how people try to collect in a container of sacred water that protrudes on the oak bark in the center of the village. The unfortunate ones tried to catch every drop that rolled down the tree to splash onto the fire. Of course, this was not enough. Then Uttama ran to the inhabitants, looking at the houses turning into ashes, and called to them in a full voice:

- Heed what I tell you! This is where blind rage has brought you! The girl avenged her father, she can be understood, but revenge never ends well. It is like fire spreading everywhere and destroying everything that it possesses! You believed the girl and decided to attack the one who risked himself twice in the battle with the monster, for your sake. You did not believe his word. So what has hatred led you to? It led to all of that? In a desire to burn my house, you burned your own houses! Look! They burn like your souls in the flame of malice! - at this moment the fire spread to the magnificent crown of the sacred oak. Uttama froze in fright. To the surprise of the inhabitants, the tree caught fire very quickly. The moisture exuded by him did not help stop the fire, and it burned down like all the village buildings. - Your anger destroyed the source of our lives! - exclaimed in despair the old woman and powerlessly settled on the ground, - What have you done...

- Damn it! What the hell?! - shouted someone from the crowd.

- This Mara incited everyone! - shouted another, - Where is she?

- Yes! It was her fault!

- Beat her!

The peasants frantically rushed to the defenseless, half-deadly scared girl. Her crippled father did not dare to intercede for his daughter in front of the inhabitants. The calloused palms of the working people raised their fists to the sky with stones clamped in them, and the girl prepared to die a painful death, when suddenly a single human figure appeared in front of her.

- Go away, Mara, - said Vtorak, closing her from the people. He barely stood on his feet, but his voice was firm, quiet and confident - Run where your eyes look. Here you will no longer live.

- I... - the girl could not answer. A real struggle was bubbling in her eyes. She shuddered uncertainly, in an attempt to rise, when suddenly the first stone flew in from the crowd and broke his lip. The young man staggered, but did not fall.

- Get out of here! - he shouted at the girl and felt pain in his jaw: all his teeth, fortunately, remained in place. Mara jumped up from the ground and, having lifted a long shirt and a sundress to her knees for convenience, rushed off. The stones flew after her, but not a single one could overtake the swift-footed beauty.

- Take away your unbridled anger, you fools! - Uttama waved her hand. - There is enough damage to you that you did yourself!

- I'm sorry, Uttama ... I'm sorry ... - the peasants standing closest to the old woman muttered.

- What shall we do now? - others whispered, - We have no water now... We lost our homes…

- We will go to Putnaya, - said the witch, - We will ask for shelter there. And after that we will move on and one day we will find a new tree for us.

Residents of the village with a lost look began to wander through the dying ruins. People approached their destroyed houses and with great sorrow tried to extract from the charred remains at least some objects of the former good. They collected everything useful that they could carry away, preparing for a long journey in search of a new place to live.

Suddenly, under a cloudy sky with eternal clouds, a beautiful melody began to play among the tall pillars of black smoke. Mournful, protracted, but inspiring hope for a brighter future. Vtorak looked around: he had never heard anything so charming. All eyes turned here to the source of this bewitching sound. It turned out to be Uttama, holding a wooden flute. Grief melted in the souls and hearts of the inhabitants at the sounds of her flute. And after their faces the sky shone slightly. Heavy sapphire and obsidian clouds became brighter and turned into snow-white cumulus feather-beds. The melody did not open the sky completely, it at least made the dark veil a little thinner. Nobody said anything at this time. No one moved. Everyone was fascinated by the sounds pouring from a wooden tube. Having finished playing, Uttama went to Varaha.

- I suppose we will meet again one day, - she said, smiling.

- Vtorak and I can accompany you. The roads are not safe, our swords will come in handy!

- Oh, no, no, you and this young man have a completely different path. We can handle it, believe me, Varaha. Your student needs rest. He had better not go on a long journey right now.

- Okay, - the mercenary agreed and looked at the boy. He stood among the ashes and coals with a bloody ribbon on his face, stretching from a broken lip.