Swords and plowshares

Twenty three years have passed since Vtorak left the valley to the will of fate. The glaciers stopped the rapid movement from north to south and now stood not far from the northern mountains of the valley. The former citizens of Stargrad settled at the southern borders of the Valley, and the inhabitants of the villages destroyed by the northerners joined them. Near the majestic stone fortifications of Cheshtaa, unusual buildings of immigrants now arose. In the caves under the fortress, people found dozens of whole and broken shells belonging to ancient huge snails. From whole shells and their fragments, from wood and clay, refugees built houses for themselves. So a new city appeared - Novgrad. They lived, enduring rare raids of the northerners, fighting hunger and cold, for together with the ice descended into the valley and icy winds.

Time is changeable. Life flows in its flows, forever changing and transforming itself. The warm currents of this amazing river intersect and mix with the cold, complementing each other, replacing, opposing them. Despite the fact that the inhabitants of the valley were forced to leave their native lands, they quickly realized that something positive could still be found in the new order of things. There was enough water for everyone now: clever scouts made their way through the settlements of the northerners and brought people splinters of great glaciers from the north, brave hunters fed the inhabitants by the caught in the area animals, and well-built farmers blew up the land, generously sowing it with seeds, growing fleshy root crops, like ashen turnips. With the advent of large water supplies donated by glaciers, it became easier for them to grow their crops. Plants watered with cool water grew to incredible sizes, surprising residents of the ash valley, who had never seen lush vegetation. Very soon, the food issue was thus resolved.

The mighty warrior Vtorak also worked as a farmer. In the morning he went out to hoed and weed the fertile soil, freeing it from weeds, to water, fertilize or harvest. This was usually the warm part of the year. A man was quite happy with such a life. He could not answer if he was used to her, or truly loved her, but Vtorak was really nothing to complain. Now, in the spring, he plowed up the earth, still damp from the snow that had recently fallen, and making with all his might plowing by big iron plough, that the workhorse was dragging behind.

- Vtorak! - he heard Mary's voice from the field, - Udaya with you?

- No, - the man replied, leaning on a plough, - I have not seen him today.

- I'll go find him. I'm afraid that he would not go too far north...

- Okay. And I will finish with plowing.

- I know that everything is fine, I will quickly find him, don't worry. - Mara smiled and went in search of her son. Who would have thought ten years ago that a warrior and a peasant woman would find in each other something that they could not find anywhere else - a real family. Vtorak wiped sweat from his forehead and slapped his ash horse on the steep side, so that she would continue to drag the plow with her. Spring promised to be colder than before, but this should not have done much damage to plants, which are mostly underground. Abundant watering was much more important for them, and scouts promised to bring ice from the north by the end of the week. Vtorak believed that this year they were about to harvest a good harvest.

Before he could get to the end of the furrow, he saw two running figures in the distance. Udaya and Mara fled to the house, with all their might, escaping from the chase. Soon in the dust raised by the lush wind, the outlines of the pursuers became noticeable. Hunters of the ashen people, waving wooden clubs over their heads, yelling and hooting, chased a woman and a child. For a long time terrifying rumors were circulating about them. Ash people did not know how to cultivate the land, and all the big prey in the territory they seized quickly came to an end. The tightness in which they had to huddle also greatly inflamed their rage, which is why the clans and tribes very quickly began to fight among themselves. The dead were fried and eaten so as not to leave meat to the beasts. Soon, all the ashen people, or rather, their remains, turned into cannibals. Nevertheless, this did not frighten the settlers of the valley driven from their land, for, until now, ashen people were afraid of them and did not make serious raids. What Vtorak saw before him could mean only one thing: the ashen peoples were seized by hunger, and now they are ready to risk everything for food. Their torment became stronger than fear.

Having freed the horse from the harness, Vtorak jumped up not it, clinging to the mane with his left hand, and galloped towards his wife and son. Dust filled his eyes, but he hurry the animal faster and faster. Finally, having reached the fugitives, Vtorak clung to the horse's neck, clasping it with his right hand, and grabbed Mara and Udaya with his left and put them on the back of the horse. The horse snorted in heaviness, but stayed on its feet.

- Hold on, hold on, dear! We need you to strain up now, - the horse reassured Vtorak. She snorted again and rushed back to the city.

- We only have to get to the city! - said Mara. - They will not overcome the wall.

- We will do it, honey. We will do it, - Vtorak answered. His gaze flickered around. He was still waiting for the raiders to appear from the dry thickets of the forest around. A native hut caught his eye. A bow with arrows, a heavy ax, jerked beef, bread, the heat of the hearth and homeliness - everything remained in it. Now the house is treacherously thrown into ruin to barbarians. What will become of him? He looked now, as never before, alive. It wanted to pray for salvation, to break loose and rush away from death, following it's family, but it just humbly remained silent, realizing that the lives of the owners were much more expensive than its own. It is forced to die, having given all his supplies to the destroyers, so that those who were native to it did not die.

Ahead appeared the high wall of the old Cheshtaa family fortress, now surrounded by the buildings of the new city. The fortress seemed to come to life and became completely different from itself abandoned, in those years when the foot of Vtorak stepped on its cold floors, accompanied by the soul of Khali. So much time passed, and the former mercenary still with warmth in his soul recalled the old man.

- Savages! Savages are coming! All to the wall! - shouted loudly Wtorak, as soon as the horse's hooves stepped into the dusty streets. He himself jumped off her back, lightening the animal's burden, and walked alongside, leading her by a long mane.

- Where are they coming from?! - a young guard ran up to the arrivals.

- Well-known, from the north! Where are they still coming from! Trumpet the alarm, son, they certainly won't climb the wall, but they can ruin the city. Savages are very hungry.

- Yes, sure! - the guard nodded fearfully and, adjusting his helmet on the run, darted to his post. "He must have been on guard recently," thought Vtorak, shaking his head.

An alarming hum of horns spread over the city. Under the guidance of the guards, the townspeople gathered in the fortress. The gates closed and sentinel archers poured onto the wall. Mara and Vtorak, along with other residents, ended up in a spacious hall with ancient statues of former masters. Five times above the living, the images of the fallen ancestors of Cheshtaa watched their lives coldly and indifferently, like birds flying too high above the world to really be affected by earthly unrest. "The statue of Hali should also be here," thought Vtorak, glancing to the marble faces, "His place is next to the most worthy men of his clan."

- Where are you from, son? Where are your parents? - leaned towards Udaya the old city blacksmith with a thick belly and hard disheveled whiskers, noticed Udaya, who had gone to look at the foot of one of the statues. The boy cringed, embarrassed, and retreated to his mother.

- This is our son, - said Mara. - Everything is okay, he is not lost.

- Ah, there you go! Good - answered the blacksmith, straightening his back, - And it's not surprising to get lost in this stampede. I myself have two kids. Twins. Agni and Agra. And what's your name, baby?

- He does not speak, - Vtorak answered shortly.

- How? Still?

- Yes. He is already ten, but... Uttama said that he cannot be healed now. Perhaps he will speak when the time comes.

- So you know Uttama? City Council Member? - sincerely surprised the blacksmith.

- We knew her before all this... yes, we know her.

- Everyone are here, - said the man. Rising on his toes, he looked around the crowd, - I wonder when they will let us out of here.

- Obviously, when the savages will leave, - answered Vtorak.

- Won't the guards give them a fight? - asked Mara.

- Oh no, - her husband answered, - they cannot win the battle.

- We have so few guards, - agreed the blacksmith, - The council will not risk the lives of the last soldiers.

- So, we are hiding here like driven animals?! Not able to resist? - surprised Mara.

- Alas, in our time the heroes of past legends have disappeared, - the blacksmith shrugged, - But when I was a child, they existed for real. Knights in shining armor, strong broad-shouldered warriors, an jousting code... Warriors whose outfit for battle is a great honor for any blacksmith! Today there are no such heroes...

- Perhaps they still remained somewhere, - said Vtorak, noting the glance thrown in his direction by Mara.

- They fought with the giants... They drove out demonic creatures... saved the children... I will never forget the one, which I knew.

- Who was it?

- The knight who saved once from certain death me and my sister. His armor sparkled silver between the black tree trunks. He rushed right at us... Even the wolves were afraid of him. His name was...

- Khali, - Vtorak blurted out, - I knew him too.

- Hmm... yes, that was his name. But... with all due respect, you, my friend, are too young to know him. Besides... I'm sure he died a long time ago in battle. Who told you about him? - as soon as these words fell from the lips of the blacksmith, the gates of the hall opened and a guard ran in.

- Everything is over! The enemy retreated! - he shouted, raising his fists. His voice reflected from the walls of the hall and did not immediately reach the thoughts of the people listening to him. When they realized their happiness, they perked up and the audience was immediately filled with glee. Life went on.

Coming out of the fortress into the city, residents discovered traces of the invasion. There weren't too many savages, they obviously rushed along the abandoned streets, dodging arrows streaming from the walls, and carried out as many supplies as they could pick up in their hands. The robbers were scared. On the streets layed the corpses of ash raiders who did not have time to hide under the roofs from arrows. The inhabitants of the city, grumbling and sighing with displeasure, began to restore order. Vtorak also looked around the city with interest. He understood that in an open battle the guards would quickly be surrounded and destroyed by savages. Hopes to survive outside the walls of the fortress could remain only with a madman. The guards did the right thing, but the people were still unhappy with the ruins. The man looked at Mara. She scaredly bit her fingernails on her left hand and gripped Vtorak's hand tightly, looking around. Seeing everything that the barbarians did with the city buildings, being under a hail of deadly arrows, she was unimaginably afraid of the idea of ​​what they could do with the lonely houses of farmers standing too far from the high walls of the fortress. Udaya walked next to his mother with sparks of curiosity in his eyes. He had never before been on the battlefield and was now experiencing an amazing, incomparable adventure. Suddenly something caught his attention, and he threw himself to the side.

- Udaya! - Father called menacingly.

- Udaya, wait! - affectionately added the mother. The boy went to one of the fallen savages and timidly examined him. Then, looking back at his parents with a smile, he picked up a bone sword with an obsidian blade from the ground that lay near the dead man's feet pierced through by arrows and showed it to his father.

- Well, you can take this trophy for yourself, - Vtorak softened. Looking at his son, clinging tightly to the hilt of the sword, he remembered his own youth and the first sword, previous owner was killed personally by Vtorak, - Once you learn how to use it, you will become a great warrior! - said Vtorak, patting by the head the boy who came closer.

- Like your father ... was many years ago, - Mara looked dreamily at her husband.

- Yeah... - he muttered, - Once.