Бесплатный фрагмент - Anikelam, or a visit to the junk dealer’s shop

Anastasia Szasz

Anikelam, or a visit to the junk dealer’s shop

Prologue

…Spring had already burst into the life of the Holy City several days ago. Everywhere, there were those extraordinary scents of spring — viscous, spicy, damp, filling everything around them…

At times, rains poured down upon the Holy City. Slanting, resilient streams widely and freely drenched the frozen earth, as though embodying the departure of the land and all the people living upon it from winter and from the death it carried within itself. This sap, flowing from the heavens, meant for all the inhabitants of the Holy Land, for the vast nation of the Sacred Empire, a transition to life, a transition from the impermanence of existence to eternity. For spring had always signified eternity…

The inhabitants of the Holy City, meeting one another in the streets, sincerely rejoiced in life. Life seemed beautiful to them. Their Empire seemed to them the best place on earth, their capital the most wondrous, and their Tsar the most just…

And every year, on the days of the solstice and the equinox, the old gods left their altars in order to answer with their grace the gifts brought to them by the mortal inhabitants of the Holy City…

And every year in spring the buds swelled, in summer the rye ripened in the fields, and in winter blizzards swept through and snow fell. It was an unchanging cycle. And the inhabitants of the Holy City believed that it would continue forever…

But the people did not know that in recent years it had become harder and harder for the old goddess of fertility to ride out from beneath the earth to the surface, toward the light, in her gilded chariot… The people did not know that the whirl of life had little time left to endure, that they had little time left to sing merry songs, little time left to give birth to and raise children…

And today, Grakhash too was walking through the streets of the Holy City, rejoicing in life. Grakhash was one of the warriors who had dedicated themselves to the Tsar. As a child, he had undergone the rite of initiation. It had been on a fine spring day just like this one. Grakhash involuntarily surrendered himself to memories…

…Do you agree to keep forever the oath of loyalty given today? — asked a voice from the darkness of the church.

«Forever… Forever… No, I don’t want to!!! But I must… I must…» Grakhash’s thoughts were tangled in his head. He understood that his parents had decided it so. Their Tsar was the fairest, the best ruler in the world. All the inhabitants of the Sacred Empire were certain of his infallibility. Grakhash did not believe in rituals, but, regardless of his faith and will, after this ceremony had been performed, his head began to ache every time the full moon came…

A woman’s laughter brought Grakhash back to reality. He saw a girl; judging by her appearance, she was a commoner. She had stunning blue eyes and was magnificently built. But her greatest virtue was her long hair, which, like golden threads, spilled over her shoulders. It seemed that her beautiful hair had absorbed all the sunlight into itself and was even brighter than the sun, openly challenging it. Long, reaching down to the girl’s waist, it flowed freely in the spring wind, bearing witness to independence, freedom, and courage…

«Do you always walk without looking around?» the beauty from among the people asked, unceremoniously looking Grakhash over from head to toe.

Grakhash was a broad-shouldered, tall young man with long fair hair reaching his shoulders. His muscular torso was clad in iron chainmail polished to a shine, beneath which a scarlet tunic showed. A red woolen cloak was thrown over his shoulders, and a short sword hung at his belt by his right hip. But the most captivating thing was his face — with deep brown eyes in which inner resolve and willpower lay hidden.

«And do you always watch other people?» Grakhash asked in the same tone, also looking her over without ceremony.

Grakhash could see that the girl liked him, while the girl noticed that she was pleasing to Grakhash.

«Who are you, handsome? Where are you headed?» she asked.

«I am one of the warriors who guard the Tsar. My name is Grakhash. Today I must appear at the royal palace. And who are you?»

«I am the daughter of the craftsman Rikhvash. My name is Freya.»

«You have beautiful hair.»

«I know. I inherited it from my mother. I’m afraid of losing it.»

«Never say that you are afraid. Otherwise, you will draw misfortune to yourself. And precisely the misfortune you fear.»

«We are not so well acquainted that we should be giving each other advice,» Freya flared up. «If I need advice, I will go to the Maiden for it.»

«Don’t be angry with me. I liked you; I only wanted to do you good. And who is this Maiden?»

«I don’t know exactly, but I’ve heard that this Maiden lives far beyond the mountains, at the edge of the Empire. Anyone who turns to her can learn the Truth about themselves.»

«Fine weather today, isn’t it?» reckless Grakhash tried to change the subject, which seemed to him not as interesting as his companion.

«Yes, not bad…»

«I think it will rain by evening…»

For a long time afterward, their laughter, filled with the joy of a first meeting, carried over the streets of the Holy City…

On that day, Grakhash and Freya did not yet know that their carefree life would soon change. For a great, dark, heavy threat had hung over the entire Empire…

Chapter 1

A Mother’s Testament

That day, the road leading to the temple was dark. The great festival of fertility had ended, and the temple servants no longer lit torches along the roadside. Grakhash slowly wandered toward the temple, silently humming a cheerful little song to himself. From everywhere, the tickling scents of summer grasses seeped into Grakhash; somewhere a stream murmured softly, and life seemed beautiful to him… Only a headache slightly darkened Grakhash’s mood. The full moon had risen into the sky.

Grakhash was going to visit his mother, Aya, who was a priestess in the temple of the goddess of fertility. As soon as she was born, her parents had dedicated her to the goddess of fertility. This meant that, upon reaching adulthood, Aya was to leave worldly life forever in order to serve the goddess until the end of her days. But at seventeen, Grakhash’s mother fell in love with his father, and the vow was broken. They married, and Grakhash was born. Those were years of endless happiness for their family. But the broken oath gave Aya no peace. The violated vow burned her heart like fire, because in the Land of the Moon, to break the sacred will of one’s parents meant committing almost the most terrible crime imaginable. When Grakhash turned seven, and the White Moon in his horoscope returned to the same place where it had been when he was born, his mother left them and went to the temple, dedicating herself to the goddess. Grakhash and his father often visited her at the temple. And today, Grakhash was going to see Aya.

Grakhash had already come almost right up to the temple when he heard someone’s voices. Grakhash realized that his mother was arguing heatedly with someone. He quickened his pace; the road ended, and he stepped onto a narrow stone-paved path leading straight to the temple gates. The path climbed upward, to where the dark bulk of the temple rose. It was an ancient sanctuary that had stood in that place for two thousand years. Intricate monograms adorned the façade of this majestic building. The temple stood on a rocky ledge carved by nature itself, and below, from beneath the rock on which it stood, a waterfall thundered down noisily.

The area before the temple was illuminated, and when he came very close, Grakhash saw his mother. She was dressed as befitted a priestess born of a noble family. Aya wore a white satin dress; a massive necklace and bracelets of white gold adorned her neck and arms. Aya’s face expressed indignation; she was almost shouting.

At first, Grakhash could not see the face of the person with whom Aya was speaking. It was a tall man with very broad shoulders, dressed in a thin, almost transparent cloak.

Aya and the stranger were arguing desperately. But Grakhash could not understand what they were talking about. It was the temple language, which the uninitiated did not know.

Grakhash wanted to come closer and find out what was happening. But suddenly Aya began to back away in fear, toward the temple gates. The stranger started advancing on his mother. Aya turned and quickly ran toward the temple. The stranger rushed after her.

Grakhash dashed up the path, hurrying to help his mother. At some point he stumbled and fell to the ground. When he raised his head, he saw a strange and terrible sight. Never before had he seen anything like it.

The stranger caught up with Aya, seized her by the hair, and tried to turn her face so that it was directed toward him. Aya stubbornly turned away. The struggle continued for several dozen seconds. Grakhash tried to get up, but his arms and legs would not obey him; he felt unbearably heavy and could not move. Aya continued to resist, but the stranger finally managed to turn her face toward him.

«Open your eyes, daughter of the Goddess,» Grakhash heard him say in a language he understood.

Through his growing-heavy eyelids, he saw that Aya was trying with all her might to squeeze her eyes shut, but after a few seconds her eyes still opened. Grakhash saw that two piercingly bright beams were coming from the stranger’s eyes. A strange, unearthly red glow emanated from the beams. Horror appeared on Aya’s face. The stranger directed his glowing gaze straight into her eyes. At the moment the beams penetrated her, Aya’s entire body shuddered. Grakhash saw a thin, transparent substance leave his mother’s body and dart somewhere upward, into the sky. At that same moment, her whole body went limp. The stranger let it go, and it collapsed to the ground. Grakhash immediately thought that his mother was dead.

Now Grakhash was finally able to make out the stranger. He was a tall man of about forty. His nose stood out especially on his face. Large, aquiline, and pointed downward, it gave the stranger’s face a certain resemblance to a bird of prey. Grakhash thought he looked like a hawk. On the stranger’s head, Grakhash saw something resembling a golden crown, on which the warrior counted twelve points. The stranger’s body was clad in a strange garment that reminded Grakhash of a snake’s scales.

Meanwhile, the spell passed; the strange weakness released Grakhash. Horrified by what had happened, he rose to his feet and quickly ran upward, toward the temple, toward his mother’s body. When he reached the edge of the area before the temple, the stranger noticed him. He hastily covered his face with his cloak and began moving toward the edge of the platform, in Grakhash’s direction.

Grakhash backed away. He thought the stranger would kill him too. But, to Grakhash’s surprise, the stranger passed by without paying him any further attention.

«Beware! You murderer of my mother!» Grakhash shouted, and rushed at the stranger.

Meanwhile, the stranger reached the edge of the platform and… fell somewhere downward, to where the churning streams of the waterfall plunged with a hiss.

Grakhash rushed after him, but, frightened, recoiled. The height from which the waterfall fell was unimaginable. His head began to spin.

Grakhash approached the place where his mother lay. As he had assumed, she was dead. Everything became confused; the world collapsed for Grakhash. Aya was gone.

For a long time, Grakhash stood over his mother’s body, trying to comprehend what had happened. Somewhere high in the night sky, distant stars looked down indifferently upon Grakhash. The full moon had risen into the sky, spreading its dim, shimmering light everywhere.

Grakhash stood with his head thrown back and wept, gazing into the sky. Suddenly, dark clouds appeared in the heavens and quickly covered the moon. Grakhash had the strange feeling that someone was watching him. He looked around but saw nothing. Grakhash was already about to leave to call someone for help when suddenly he heard a quiet voice somewhere to his right:

«Grakhash, Grakhash…»

Grakhash looked toward the place from which the voice came. Beneath an ancient tree stood his mother, Aya. She was transparent, as though woven from the finest ether. Grakhash understood that this was his mother’s soul. As if enchanted, he approached the tree. The transparent Aya trembled and slowly said:

«Be careful, Grakhash… Do not lose your way in the worlds of reflections…»

And she dissolved forever.

No one ever managed to discover why Aya had been killed. Grakhash, however, did not tell anyone that he had seen how the murder had taken place. There were rumors that Aya had been punished for having once broken her vow. But Grakhash did not believe this. He was certain that his mother had been killed by a dark sorcerer who had taken her soul.

The words he had heard from Aya engraved themselves into Grakhash’s soul for the rest of his life. For many years, every full moon, he dreamed a dream in which the transparent Aya repeated her strange testament to him again and again. But Grakhash could not unravel what it meant.

That day, a deep hatred was born in Grakhash’s heart. He swore an oath to himself that from then on his entire life would be devoted to finding and destroying the stranger. He searched for him for many years, ready at every minute of his life to enter into battle with his mother’s murderer. But… he did not find him.

Chapter 2

The Tsar Becomes a Slave

That day, the Tsar’s palace was noisy. Preparations were underway for the great festival of the Moon. All the courtiers were rejoicing, expecting, as always, a grand feast in honor of the Mother Earth. And only Tsar Ekhash, lord of the vast Empire, sat gloomy and troubled in his chambers. Since morning, he had felt as though something terrible, something dreadful, was approaching him and his Empire.

Lying on his enormous bed, the Tsar tried to think about how he could make his people happy. It should be noted here that Ekhash had always been a good Tsar. He truly loved his Empire and cared for its inhabitants.

Suddenly, he broke off his thoughts, for he noticed something strange in his chambers. The room was gradually filling with a strange blue misty haze. This haze thickened, filling everything around him. Suddenly, there came a loud clap. When the haze dispersed, a terrible sight was revealed to the Tsar. In the middle of the room towered the huge figure of some creature. It had the head of a crocodile and the body of a man. The Crocodile’s body was entirely covered with iron scales. Its torso was protected by golden chainmail, and around its neck, on a thick golden chain, hung a metal plate with uneven edges, rusted in places. Upon it, in a strange sequence, were stamped numbers whose meaning was unknown. It seemed that the plate was very ancient — perhaps older than the existing world.

«What do you want?» the Tsar shouted. «Why have you come?»

«I have come for your soul,» the hideous creature answered in a muffled voice.

«I am the Tsar, and no one dares take my soul,» Ekhash shouted.

«I dare. I have a claim upon you. You cannot oppose me, for you depend on me.»

«But how? How can I depend on you? Get out!» the Tsar shouted in anger.

«Ha-ha-ha! Now listen to me. I am Merrog, your master and the master of your Empire. I was born several millennia ago of your God and Lilith, the mother of darkness. Since then I have grown, I have strengthened, I have gathered power. My dwelling place is the lower astral worlds. Until recently, I did not possess sufficient strength. But now all worlds have bowed their heads before me. The time will come when your physical world will fall to its knees before me. But I digress… So listen, Tsar: your power depends on me forever, and if you do not wish to lose it, then in everything — in every decision of yours, in every action concerning the rule of the Empire — you must obey me. And if you do not follow my counsel, I will become angry and destroy you.»

«But you are evil!!! I will not allow you to control me!!!» Ekhash shouted, trying to leap from the bed.

But suddenly a terrible weakness swept over him. Ekhash felt his arms and legs growing heavy, his eyes closing.

«Ha-ha-ha!… Hee-hee-hee!…»

The last thing Ekhash, the great Tsar of the great Empire, heard was the demonic laughter of the repulsive creature.

The Tsar sank into sleep…

In his dream, he saw himself as a young man. He was in a green meadow. Birds were singing, a stream was murmuring. He was there with his sister, Neshya. They were playing hide-and-seek. Suddenly, Ekhash fell. Something sharp pierced his stomach…

«A twig,» Ekhash thought, and wanted to get up. But he could not. He felt a strange heaviness in his stomach. And then he suddenly saw a huge snake crawling straight into his navel. Then he saw a kite soaring in the sky. The kite flew down to him, pecked him in the stomach, and immediately rose again. Ekhash saw that in the kite’s beak were thin threads coming out of his stomach. The kite opened its beak, the threads fell to the ground and began to grow into it…

Ekhash saw that he was falling somewhere downward, beneath the earth… He flew for a long time, until he struck something hard. Looking around, Ekhash saw that he was lying on a small platform formed by a rocky ledge. Far below him opened an abyss, at the bottom of which something red could be seen. Unbearable heat burned Ekhash, and he understood that he had flown to the center of the earth, that this was the very breath of the underworld. And then he saw Merrog the Crocodile, seated upon a golden throne. Black smoke swirled around him, and the mysterious numbers on the plate flared with a strange gleam.

«Now we are bound together forever!… Ha-ha-ha!!!…» the Crocodile rejoiced.

The Tsar waved his arms and rushed at the Crocodile.

«You will not dare! You will not dare!» Ekhash shouted in despair.

Gathering his last strength, he seized the Crocodile’s neck with both hands, trying to strangle him. But the Tsar’s hands merely slipped over the smooth scales, and a mighty blow from the iron paw hurled him aside…

«You are my slave!» the Crocodile roared with laughter, and the walls of the underworld shook from his laughter.

«No!!!» the Tsar cried out, and awoke in his own bed.

Looking around in terror, the Tsar could not at all notice the rusted metal plate beneath his bed, with unknown numbers stamped upon it…

Chapter 3

The Moon and the Sun

The inhabitants of the Empire and the courtiers remembered that festival of the Moon for a long time. The Moon Goddess, venerated in the Empire, was a symbol of the Motherland and the hearth. The festival of the Moon was a day of national unity, for it symbolized the solidarity of all people as one great family. The Moon was the patroness of ancestors and lineage, helping to preserve the continuity of generations. And ancestors had always been honored in the Sacred Empire, which was rare in the rest of the world.

The Moon, the great Birth-Giving Mother, fostered the growth of fruits, and the inhabitants of the Empire were the finest farmers. They did not know how to wage war, and in the Empire it was believed that war was against their religion. Every inhabitant of the Empire lived with the certainty that there was nothing worse than war. War kills; it destroys the family tree; it burns what had been patiently cultivated in the fields. Warriors like Grakhash made up the royal regiment, called upon to serve as the Tsar’s guard, though there was no real need for this, and in fact the regiment’s role was purely symbolic.

In addition, the adherents of the lunar cult especially revered the sacred feminine principle. For millennia, the inhabitants of the Sacred Empire burned incense and held festivals in honor of Proserpina, goddess of fertility; the Mother-Goddess of the Moon; and Venus, goddess of beauty. They honored woman as the continuer of the family line, as the keeper of the hearth. In the temples of the Sacred Empire, only women could foretell fate.

For many years and winters, the inhabitants of the Sacred Empire lived in harmony with themselves and the surrounding world. They loved nature and worshiped it in the form of numerous gods and goddesses. Each phenomenon of nature had its own god or goddess. If one of the gods grew angry, various misfortunes arose. Then people brought offerings to the god who governed that part of their lives in which the misfortune had occurred.

Thus, if it happened that a wolf destroyed an entire herd of sheep, people went with an offering to Pan, the patron of flocks. If the harvest perished, they turned to the goddess Demeter, or to her daughter Persephone — the goddesses of fertility and reborn nature. If a child died, people went to Hera — the mother-goddess of all that exists. People offered the gods milk, wine, and animal flesh. And the gods repaid the people in kind: misfortunes left them, and happiness knocked at their doors. These were relations that people understood. When some misfortune came to a person, he did not blame the whole world for it.

The Empire had worshiped the Moon since time immemorial, since the very beginning of this world. But the inhabitants of the Empire did not know that the Moon also had a reverse side, that Darkness had already stretched out its greedy hands toward the great Empire… Nor did they know that one of the Tsar’s warriors was yet to play a decisive role in its fate.

Far from the outskirts of the Sacred Empire, another world began, where the sun-worshipers lived. They were a very benevolent people, whose entire life was devoted to those pursuits that ancient astrology associated with the Sun. In the Land of the Sun, art, literature, and music flourished. Crafts developed actively in the cities: tanners, jewelers, and glassmakers produced a wide variety of goods in abundance.

The patrons of the City of the Sun were the musician-god, radiant Apollo, and the Muses: Calliope and Euterpe, who loved poetry; Erato, who helped compose songs; Terpsichore, who taught them to dance; Clio, who reminded them of the greatness of past ages; Polyhymnia, who sang hymns to the Sun; Urania, who taught them to observe the stars; as well as Melpomene and Thalia — the Muses of tragedy and comedy.

Unlike the adherents of the Lunar cult, the sun-worshipers believed that in order to preserve and increase one’s own «I,» it was not necessary to see it as part of previous generations. They believed this could be achieved through the development of one’s talents and abilities. The consequence of this was to be the strengthening of one’s own Spirit as part of the Sun. They, too, knew no war.

But, unnoticed, dark forces also penetrated the way of life of the inhabitants of the Land of the Sun. Gradually, they began to believe that life was a game, and that they were all actors on the stage of eternity, that one should live lightly… They produced fewer and fewer goods and worshiped Dionysus, the god of wine, more and more…

And so, that festival of the Moon went down in history. On that day, Tsar Ekhash came out to the people and said the following:

«Listen to me, inhabitants of the Sacred Empire! From this day forth and forever, your life will change! Today I received a revelation! Today God Himself descended from the heavens and spoke to me! He told me that the Sacred Empire shall no longer worship numerous gods. The idols must be cast down, and their temples destroyed. God is one; He is invisible and intangible. God is incomprehensible to the human mind. All people are God’s slaves. Man’s lot is to worship God and fear Him. Man is God’s slave. The priestesses of the Temple of the Moon are the chosen ones. Only they may interpret the messages of God. The heavenly embodiment of our God is the Moon.»

«But we worshiped the Moon before!» voices were heard from the crowd.

«That is not enough,» said the Tsar. «The Moon demands greater worship, greater sacrifices from man. From now on, no gods other than the Moon exist. Listen further to the message of God! We are no longer a people of farmers. Why waste time on crops that are ungrateful to our labor? God has told me that from now on the main occupation of the inhabitants of the Sacred Empire must be trade!»

«But to whom, and what, shall we sell?» someone asked from the crowd.

«We shall sell goods to other countries,» answered the Tsar, «and the sun-worshipers produce them in abundance. We shall conquer them. The final message of God that I heard is that we must begin a war against the Land of the Sun! From this day forth we begin preparations for the campaign, on which we shall set out exactly three years from now!»

The Tsar made a majestic gesture with his hand, preparing to withdraw, but after looking intently over the trembling people before him, he added:

«I command that from now on all women of the Empire arrange their hair in coiffures! It is unseemly for the women of our country to walk about with untidy hair!»

And so ended the many-thousand-year peace and happiness of a peaceful farming people. The Tsar’s speech shook the people. They were bewildered. They were accustomed to holding their Tsars in high esteem, considering them incarnations of the gods on earth.

Legends said that at the dawn of civilization, the gods descended from the heavens and lived among people. From the union of gods with the daughters of men were born god-men, who began the existence of the royal dynasty. The inhabitants of the Sacred Empire could not even conceive that their Tsar might be wrong. They were certain that the Tsar had access to the heavenly halls and communed with the gods. True, for many centuries they had heard no new divine revelations from him. And now, apparently, the time had come…

Grakhash was in the square at the moment when the Tsar delivered this speech. From the Tsar’s speech, which was very long, he understood that he was to be among the first ranks of those called to war. After all, he was the Tsar’s warrior.

Chapter 4

The Astrologer’s Prophecy

No one understood what was happening in the Land of the Moon. From the outside, it was impossible to understand why Ekhash, who until recently had been the kindest and most just Tsar in the world, had suddenly made a decision so uncharacteristic of him. Only one person standing in the square on that memorable day knew what had happened. It was the Tsar’s personal astrologer — Zankh.

And so, preparations began for a military campaign against the sun-worshipers. For three years, armor and weapons were forged in workshops and smithies throughout the Empire, and the entire male population of the Empire prepared to set out on campaign. Military drills were held constantly. But more than anything else, the royal government concentrated on propaganda of hatred and violence toward the sun-worshipers.

Meanwhile, the cult of the One God was marching triumphantly across the Sacred Empire. Throughout the country, the temples and altars of the ancient gods were being destroyed: patrons of nature and childbirth, harvests and rains, love and death. In their place, faith was imposed everywhere in a single unknowable deity, incomprehensible to the human mind, hidden behind the veil of space and time.

Although — no, the Moon, of course, was visible to ordinary mortals, but it was so high and so far away, and spoke to people through its priestesses in such a symbolic language, incomprehensible to them, that one could assert its indisputable unfathomability. The simple gods, understandable to man, disappeared. And the hatred that the Tsar so wished to kindle in the hearts of the former farmers gradually began to be born within them.

The minds of the people living in the Sacred Empire ceased to understand the processes taking place in nature. Now, if misfortune came to a person, it meant the wrath of an unknown deity. A person did not know what to do, or to whom to turn with his sorrow.

Before, if a patron god did not answer a person’s prayers for a long time, dislike was born in him only toward that god, along with a desire to diligently atone for his guilt before him. But now, if misfortunes did not leave a person, he began to hate the whole world.

Before, the stern and benevolent, wrathful and merry, warlike and peaceful faces of stone idols promised people either long or swift forgiveness. Now there was an unknown deity which, as the official religion proclaimed, the human mind would never comprehend. People did not see how it wept or laughed, loved or hated. Perhaps it did not know how to do these things at all? Perhaps it did not understand their thoughts, desires, and feelings at all?

People found no answer to these questions. The temples of the Mother-Moon were now opened only during great festivals, and the now-sacred priestesses of the Moon — the conductors of Divine Reason on earth — did not answer the questions of ordinary mortals in any understandable way. The revelations received by the priestesses from the Deity were abstract and vague. People did not understand them.

And people began to hate. In response to the inaction and silence of the unknowable deity, they hated the world created by that deity. Aggression accumulated more and more in human hearts. And the people themselves now longed to begin the war against the sun-worshipers as soon as possible, not understanding that, in truth, they wanted to wage war against themselves, against their own state and religion.

And so, the majority of the population actively joined in the preparations for the campaign. But, of course, there were also people who disagreed with the Tsar’s new policy. Some of them created entire organizations opposing the royal regime.

A year passed, then another, and then yet another. The time of the Great Campaign was approaching. Grakhash, as one of the Tsar’s warriors, also marched diligently every day at the military training grounds. But deep in his soul, he desperately did not want to go on campaign. In general, he had never liked military affairs.

One day, at a military gathering, he accidentally acquired a new friend. It happened like this.

The marching and sword training had already ended. Grakhash was wiping his sword when he heard a quiet whisper beside his ear:

«Hey, you, listen!..»

Turning around, he saw a boy of about fifteen.

«Can I have you for a minute?» the boy asked again in a whisper.

Grakhash nodded.

«I can’t talk here. Let’s move farther away from here,» said the boy.

Grakhash and the boy left the royal barracks, where the military gathering was taking place, and found themselves in a small dark alley that ended in a dead end. Stopping there, they began to speak quietly.

«My name is Efaksh. I belong to an organization that opposes the Tsar and the campaign. We are looking for people who sympathize with us. I watched you during the gathering, and from your face I understood that you are not very pleased with the current situation.»

«Are there many of you?» asked Grakhash.

«Yes, very, very many,» answered the boy. «But we want our ranks to grow. Many people are needed to overthrow the Tsar.»

«Overthrow the Tsar? But that is too serious a step…» Grakhash began, intending to refuse. After all, he had been dedicated to serving the Tsar since childhood. Besides, his natural nobility called upon him to remain faithful to his duty.

«Do not be so quick to refuse, young man,» a voice came from the darkness. «And you, youth, should bear in mind that overthrowing the Tsar will achieve nothing.»

«But why?» Grakhash and Efaksh asked in unison. From surprise, they forgot about confidentiality.

«Because another will take his place. And he will be no better.»

A figure clad in a blue mantle emerged from the darkness. It was a very elderly man whose face was covered all over with wrinkles.

«Who are you?» asked Grakhash, coming to his senses.

«I am Zankh, the Tsar’s personal astrologer. If you want to know more, come with me.»

«But why should we believe you? What if you deceive us and lead us straight into the hands of the Tsar’s guards?» Grakhash asked suspiciously.

«I will not deceive you. I am first on the list of the Tsar’s enemies,» the old man said bitterly.

«Let’s go with him. I believe him,» said the boy. «I have heard that he is a good man.»

Grakhash and Efaksh followed the old man. They passed long rows of barracks, went past the mint, and found themselves before the royal palace. A large group of guards could be seen at the palace entrance.

«Surely we are not going to enter straight through the main entrance?» Grakhash asked with irony.

«Do not be afraid. We shall go another way,» the astrologer replied.

Going around the palace on the right, Grakhash and Efaksh saw a small tower adjoining the palace. High in the tower, a light was burning. They understood that this was the astrologer’s dwelling.

And somewhere high above, the summer stars could be seen scattered across the night sky. The Holy City lay in southern latitudes, and nowhere, ever, was the sky as beautiful as it was here…

Together with the astrologer, the young friends climbed the tower. The ascent was long and even a little difficult. A narrow spiral staircase twisted and wound upward; it was dark all around, and only the light of a lone torch illuminated their way.

At the top, the astrologer indicated to Grakhash and Efaksh that they could make themselves comfortable.

«Our conversation will be long,» he explained.

Grakhash and Efaksh looked around. In the small room where the astrologer lived stood an enormous table, completely covered with thick ancient books. Some of them were open. Coming closer, Grakhash saw some kind of diagrams. On the table he noticed a strange object: two slats formed an angle between them and were joined by a semicircular rail. In answer to Grakhash’s silent question, the astrologer said:

«It is an astrolabe. A device for measuring distances between planets.»

When Grakhash had looked around a little, he immediately decided to begin questioning the old man.

«Why did you bring us here? Why did you say that the Tsar’s death would change nothing?» he began.

«The thing is that I have been watching you for a long time, Grakhash,» said the astrologer. «By the signs on your face and body, I understood that you are the only person who can save us all from Merrog.»

«Merrog? Who is that?» Efaksh asked in surprise.

«He is a demonic being possessing an intellect far surpassing the human mind. Many millennia ago, she was born in the lower worlds. The purpose of her birth is to destroy the harmony that exists on Earth. Three years ago, she appeared to our Tsar for the first time and enslaved his will.»

«Can this really be the reason our Tsar changed so suddenly?» exclaimed Efaksh.

«Yes, that is the reason,» answered the astrologer.

«But how did you learn this?» asked Grakhash.

«I saw signs in the Tsar’s horoscope that indicated it,» answered the astrologer.

«What signs?» asked the curious Efaksh.

«In the Tsar’s horoscope, the Black Moon is in conjunction with the Sun. Ancient astrology associates the Sun with the spirit of man. The Black Moon symbolizes the evil that a person can bring into this world. Through the Black Moon, demonic entities living in the lower astral worlds penetrate into a person and, through him, influence the surrounding world. The conjunction of the Black Moon with the Sun in a horoscope means that the spirit of a person born at that time is afflicted by the spirit of Evil, and through him the forces of Evil will manifest themselves in the embodied world.

«Jupiter — the planet that patronizes rulers — is in conjunction in the Tsar’s horoscope with the star Algol, located in the constellation Perseus. This is the devil’s star; murders and violence are associated with it. A person born under the star Algol strays from the true path; terrible spirits of the abyss act through him… I knew that the Tsar would begin a war…»

The astrologer faltered from agitation, but after a few moments he continued speaking.

«For the End of Times is approaching again, and someone must fulfill what has been ordained…»

«Again?» came Efaksh’s sarcastic voice. «How can the End of Times come «again’? Has it already happened before?»

«Yes, it is true, the End of Times is approaching not for the first time…» the astrologer answered anxiously, and began leafing through one of the ancient folios lying on his table.

Efaksh twirled a finger at his temple and winked at Grakhash, nodding toward the door.

Meanwhile, the astrologer continued speaking, peering into the yellowed pages of the book.

«The End of Times comes from time to time…» the astrologer said, breathless with excitement. «The squirrel turns the Wheel, and what was in the past returns again and again… Once, long ago, the Land of the Sun began a war against the Empire of the Moon. Much blood was shed, many flourishing cities were destroyed… Back then, the Spirit of Evil entered their Tsar… Now this must happen again, but the initiator will be the Empire of the Moon… But someone must stop this cycle…»

«How can that be done?» Efaksh asked with feigned interest, having decided that the astrologer was not in his right mind.

«To do this, one must find the answers to the three riddles of the Maiden hidden behind the veil…» the astrologer answered solemnly.

«The Maiden hidden behind the veil?.. Who is that?» the curious Efaksh asked again.

The astrologer smiled mysteriously.

«She is the Maiden whose entire body is hidden behind veils… No one has ever seen even her face. For many millennia she has been waiting for someone to answer her three riddles. Then humanity will have a chance at salvation, and the wars that regularly break out between the Empire of the Moon and the Land of the Sun will finally be able to cease…»

«What are these riddles?» asked Grakhash.

The astrologer smiled again.

«The riddles are these,» he answered, looking slyly at Grakhash. «One must find where the lie is hidden in the Empire of the Moon, and that is the first riddle. Then one must find the lie in the Land of the Sun, and that is the second riddle. The last, third riddle of the Maiden is the most difficult. One must guess what is hidden behind her veils… I think that you, Grakhash, can do this… There is an ancient legend about the Messenger on the White Horse, who will come on the day of the decisive battle and prevent the End of Times… Please tell me the date of your birth so that I may confirm it.»

The astrologer moved closer to Grakhash a worn notebook in which he made his calculations, and the warrior wrote his date of birth in it.

«Rest a little, and I must make some calculations,» Zankh fussed.

For a whole hour, the old astrologer pored over his papers and books, drawing and calculating something. During this time, Grakhash and Efaksh managed to doze off. At last, the old man said:

«It is done. Now I know for certain that you are the very Messenger on the White Horse who will be able to answer the Maiden’s riddles. In your horoscope, O youth, Jupiter is in conjunction with Mars in Sagittarius in the tenth house of the horoscope. The Sun is in conjunction with the star Pollux, located in the constellation Gemini. This is the star of a man who wins all battles. And these battles will unfold on the field of reason… But wait… I see something interesting here… The Moon in your horoscope is too close to the malefic star Giedi. The Moon signifies the mother… The star Giedi speaks of danger from evil spirits. Let me see…»

The astrologer went to the table on which stood a transparent crystal ball and, fixing his eyes on the ball, looked into it for several minutes. All this time, Grakhash and Efaksh exchanged bewildered glances. Suddenly, horror appeared on the old man’s face, tears flowed from his eyes, he swayed and collapsed unconscious onto the floor.

Grakhash and Efaksh rushed to help. They lifted the old man from the floor and seated him on the bed that stood in the corner. For several minutes, the astrologer remained unconscious. At last, he slowly opened his eyes.

«What happened?» Grakhash asked anxiously.

«What did you see in that ball, grandfather?» asked Efaksh.

Barely moving his tongue, the old man began to speak.

«In your horoscope, Grakhash, I saw terrible signs telling me that your mother perished at the hands of the Dark Forces of the earth.»

Grakhash was stunned.

«The Dark Forces of the earth?» he repeated. «I always thought it was a dark sorcerer,» Grakhash said more confidently.

«Be silent and listen further,» said the astrologer. «I decided to clarify whether this was so and looked into the mediumistic ball. There I saw the terrible scene of your mother’s murder. I can say with certainty that your mother was not killed by a sorcerer at all.»

«Not a sorcerer? Then who?» Grakhash asked in surprise.

«It was not a human being at all,» said the astrologer.

«But that is impossible!» exclaimed Grakhash. «I saw the murder happen, and I can swear on anything that it was a man!»

«The being that killed your mother merely took on the appearance of a man,» the astrologer continued seriously. «In truth, it is Shahgarg — one of the demons serving Merrog. It is an entity of the lower world, one of the Supreme Hierarchs of the Dark Forces. It can take the form of a human, an animal, or a bird, and live in different dimensions. On your own, you will never catch him, because he can instantly pass from one dimension to another. But I can help you.»

«You said he serves Merrog?» Grakhash asked again.

«Yes. As you can see, you are personally interested in destroying Merrog,» the old man concluded triumphantly.

«To catch Merrog, one must be able to pass from one dimension to another. For this I shall give you the Amulet of the Moon.»

The astrologer went to an enormous chest standing in the room and took out a small box. When he opened it, Grakhash and Efaksh saw a square metal plate with uneven edges, darkened by time and eaten away by rust. Rows of numbers were stamped on the plate:

«You must always keep this plate with you. Each time you wish to move through space and time, you must recite a prayer to the Moon. It is this: „O Isis! Remove the veil from my eyes; allow me to see the light of Anima Mundi…“ After that, simply imagine the world you wish to enter,» said the astrologer.

«But is it possible to imagine a place where one has never been?» asked Efaksh.

«Yes, indeed, it is difficult to imagine what one has never seen,» the astrologer smiled. «But one can imagine not the place itself, but some object or person located within it… Finally, one can simply mention the name of that place, and the Amulet itself will lead you there… But even if you know absolutely nothing about it, fate itself will tell you how to find it, will give you a sign… In general, though, it is usually enough merely to have the Intention…» the old man said, addressing the warrior.

«You know, I even like all of this,» said Efaksh. «How interesting!»

«Excellent. Now listen to me carefully…» said the astrologer, looking seriously at Grakhash. «Remember that only you, and no one but you, can answer the three riddles of the Maiden hidden behind the veils. Set out immediately; you have little time…»

The astrologer turned several pages of the book lying before him.

«According to what has been foretold, the battle between the Empire of the Moon and the Land of the Sun will take place exactly one month from now. On that day, Pluto will be positioned ninety degrees from Uranus, and Saturn will stand at the same distance from the Sun. The Sun itself will be covered by the Moon, and a solar eclipse will begin, worsened by the fact that Uranus will stand in opposition to it…»

«But what if I cannot do it? What if I do not arrive in time?» Grakhash asked anxiously.

«You will succeed. I do not doubt it. But your soul must be pure. Remember this at all times. Ah, I almost forgot!» exclaimed the astrologer, waving his arms in agitation. «This is very important: in order to defeat Merrog and Shahgarg, you will read the book of Anikelam, inscribed upon the tablets of the astral light.»

«The book of Anikelam? What is that?» Grakhash asked in surprise.

«It is a book recorded in the Akashic Records. The Akashic Records, or astral light, as the ancient scholars call it, are the totality of all information gathered about humanity throughout the entire time of its existence. The Akashic Records contain information about all events of the past, present, and future, about every person, animal, or plant. This information is divided into blocks. No one has ever managed to gain access to all of this information at once — only to certain individual blocks. Poets, musicians, and alchemists — everyone who discovers or creates anything — draw information from the Akashic Records. Gaining access to the Akashic Records is very difficult. God grants this ability to some from birth, and then geniuses appear, making brilliant discoveries. But in order to gain access to the most secret blocks, one must undergo a special rite of initiation,» said the astrologer.

«What rite? How can I undergo it?» Grakhash asked impatiently.

«It is an ancient secret rite. In order to undergo it, you must go to the monastery of Num. The Bloody Mysteries are held there. But it will be very difficult,» said the astrologer.

«How interesting!» exclaimed the curious Efaksh.

«The book of Anikelam is one of the most secret blocks of the Akashic Records, alongside the blocks concerning the mysteries of the creation of man and the universe,» the old man continued.

«But why?» asked Grakhash.

«The book of Anikelam contains sacred information about the stars and planets of our Solar System, as well as about magical rites that make a person strong and invincible.»

«I will definitely gain access to the book of Anikelam,» Grakhash said firmly.

«I see a true warrior in you, O youth!» exclaimed the astrologer, rejoicing that he had managed to convince Grakhash of the need to follow his mission.

«But listen, venerable elder, I have a question for you,» said Grakhash.

«What question?» asked the astrologer.

«Soon after my mother died, I spoke with her,» said Grakhash.

«Spoke with her?» the old man asked excitedly. «And what did she tell you?»

«She gave me a strange testament,» Grakhash said after a pause. «She said: „Be careful, Grakhash, do not lose your way in the worlds of reflections.“ What does that mean?» he asked the astrologer.

«Oh yes, the worlds of reflections…» the astrologer said thoughtfully. «To learn what they are is part of your mission… Without answering that question, you will not be able to answer the three riddles of the Maiden hidden behind the veils…»

«So, we are setting out on a journey!» exclaimed Efaksh.

«And will you not come with us?» asked Grakhash.

«No…» the astrologer said sadly, and his eyes grew misty.

«Why? You know much about magic and astrology, and you could give us invaluable help,» the warrior noted.

«Unfortunately, my duty commands me to remain near the Tsar.»

«When will we see each other again? When we return from the campaign?» asked Efaksh, who in a short time had grown deeply fond of the absent-minded old astrologer.

«I fear that in this physical world we shall never see each other again,» the old man said with pain in his voice. «In the astral world — perhaps…»

«But why?» Grakhash and Efaksh were bewildered.

«I am an astrologer. I know everything about the past, present, and future,» said Zankh. «I calculated from the stars long ago that the Tsar will kill me. It will happen very soon.»

«But why not hide from him for a while?» Efaksh suggested.

«Only people who do not know the laws of the Universe speak as you do. Everything we do, everything we think and dream about, is predetermined from birth. Only madmen believe that they can change anything in their lives. But I know for certain that this is not so…»

«Wait, I disagree with you!» exclaimed Efaksh, wishing to argue with the astrologer. He had always believed that everything depended on his own efforts.

But at that moment, the clock on the city’s main tower loudly struck midnight. The astrologer said anxiously:

«You must hurry. Today is the Great Festival of Fertility — the only night of the year when the monastery of Num is open to all visitors. If you do not receive initiation before dawn, when the monastery closes, you will not be able to gain access to the sacred book of Anikelam and will not fulfill your mission.»

«And where is it? Will you tell us the way?» asked Efaksh.

«It is far away, a thousand kilometers from here, in the Forest of Cybele.»

«But there is no way we can reach it before dawn!» exclaimed Grakhash.

«Do not forget that you have the Amulet of the Moon…»

Grakhash took from his pocket the metal plate received from the astrologer and brought it to his eyes. The ghostly light of the Moon, streaming through the window, fell upon it. «VI, II, IX, VIII, VI…» the outline of each number lit up in turn.

Grakhash slowly pronounced:

«О Isis! Remove the veil from my eyes; allow me to see the light of Anima Mundi… I wish to be in the monastery of Num…»

Before his eyes appeared spirals, rings; the old astrologer blurred and disappeared. Space and time folded for the young friends, only to appear again at another point on earth.

The astrologer called after them:

«Take care of yourselves! Perhaps we shall meet again someday!..»

Chapter 5

The Death of the Astrologer

Tsar Ekhash sat gloomily upon a golden throne adorned with inlays of precious stones. Although there were many courtiers, guests, and servants in the palace, he felt like the loneliest man on earth. Ever since Merrog had established his power over the Tsar, he had been in a foul mood all the time. The Tsar was thinking. He was thinking about the question that now constantly occupied his mind: how to preserve and strengthen his power. Today the Tsar had summoned the astrologer, and now he was waiting for him to arrive.

Quiet footsteps sounded in the throne hall. The Tsar raised his head and saw the astrologer before him.

«You called for me, O ruler?» asked the astrologer.

«Yes, I called for you, Zankh,» said the Tsar. «Have you made the horoscopes of my faithful servants — Haniksh and Key? I wish to know of the events that await these glorious warriors. Each of them has done much to strengthen our state.»

«And what good have they done?» the old man asked mockingly.

The Tsar did not notice his irony.

«Haniksh has put much effort into ensuring that the cult of the Mother-Moon flourishes in the Sacred Empire, while Key devotes all his time to preparing for the Great Campaign. He personally trains the warriors so that they may easily crush the hateful sun-worshipers. Today, both of them are among the worthiest people of the Sacred Empire.»

«My ruler,» Zankh began gently, «unfortunately, their horoscopes do not tell me at all that they are decent men.»

«What nonsense are you spouting, you worthless old fool!» the Tsar howled. «I shall order your head cut off for such words!»

«What is to be cannot be avoided… You used to believe my predictions,» the astrologer remarked calmly.

Ekhash’s entire face turned red; he was breathing heavily. His hands convulsively gripped the armrests of the throne.

«And what exactly did you see in their horoscopes?» he asked the old man menacingly.

«I see in Key’s horoscope a square between Mars and Saturn. In addition, the Moon is in conjunction with the star Antares, located in the constellation Sagittarius. A person born under the influence of Antares is willful, uncontrollable, and impulsive. Such a person must not be allowed near military action, much less be given the chance to command it. He will destroy everything in his path, sparing nothing living around him, not even his own warriors. To satisfy his own ambitions, he will stop at nothing…»

«You lie, miserable worm! I will destroy you!» shouted the Tsar.

«You are wrong not to believe me, Tsar. Be careful. The negative aspect between Mars and Jupiter tells me that Key is very ambitious and sooner or later will lay claim to the royal throne,» the astrologer concluded calmly.

«And what about Haniksh?» the Tsar asked, stammering.

«He is a true madman,» said the astrologer. «The Moon is waning, Mars is in Cancer, Mercury is in Aquarius… He is a pathological hater of women. You say he builds temples to the Mother-Moon? But look at the cult he has created! The priestesses of the Moon are unreachable to the people! They demand unbearable sacrifices! Soon the rebellious people will burst into the Temples and destroy them all! Tsar, whom have you placed at the head of your Empire?»

«You lie!» the Tsar almost howled. «Haniksh is a decent man!»

«I tell you again, O Tsar: Haniksh is a madman. In his horoscope, the Black Moon and the White Moon are in conjunction. The Black Moon reflects a person’s connection with evil. The White Moon reflects a person’s connection with good. The merging of these two Moons happens rarely, once every thirty-two years. There have been many cases in history when, at the moment of their conjunction, religious figures were born who created cults in which, under the cover of religion, service was rendered to Satan.»

«You lie, lie, lie!» the Tsar roared. «I do not believe a single word you say!»

«Your heart and your memory lie, my ruler! Remember that I have never deceived you!» exclaimed the astrologer. «I beg you, open your eyes! Come to your senses before it is too late! I know that Merrog is instilling these thoughts in you! Force your soul to awaken!»

Hearing Merrog’s name, the Tsar shuddered, but said nothing.

«I know, Tsar, that lately your head has been aching, and at night you see nightmares in which infernal entities kill living infants. This is the future that will come to the Sacred Empire if you allow Merrog to rule you through those close to you!» the astrologer said calmly.

«But if our cult is evil, why does God not punish us?» the Tsar asked mockingly, having already recovered a little. «We have been preparing for the Sacred Campaign for almost ten years, and all these years fortune has been with us!» the Tsar said, proudly raising his head.

«Remember one simple thing, Tsar,» Zankh said, enunciating each word. «It is not God who helps you, but the Forces of Evil. And they always help only for a time, and at the most important moment they abandon a person. A person thinks that fortune will always favor him, but in truth they are only using him to achieve their own goals. Insignificant people they simply discard, while major figures they destroy. You will be the first they destroy after they establish their power over the world. You will remain alive only if your soul becomes completely black. But I know that you have not entirely lost what is human in you. And they do not forgive that.»

«I shall order your head cut off for everything you have said here today!» the Tsar shouted again. «Someone, take him away from my sight!» In despair, the Tsar clutched his head. It was beginning to ache more and more.

«I know that for all these past months you have thought only about power. But you were not like that before. Before, you thought about your people and cared for them. Understand, Tsar: the thoughts swarming in your head are not yours. Merrog — one of the Supreme Demons of Darkness — is placing them there. You are a kind, honest, just man. By an effort of will, you can still break your connection with him. I implore you: do it, save the Sacred Empire! Renounce the campaign against the sun-worshipers!» Zankh said softly.

The Tsar’s face turned green, his eyes bulged from their sockets, and he seemed to be trying to answer the astrologer’s words. For several minutes he struggled with himself. At last, wheezing, he forced out:

«Everything you say is untrue… I know no Merrog. The Spirit of God speaks with me. Our cult was created from the words of God…»

«I know what kind of God that is,» the old man said sadly. «My mission was to warn you. Now it has been fulfilled.»

Meanwhile, the Tsar began to regain control of himself again. Suddenly he straightened sharply on the throne and shouted:

«Guards!»

A few seconds later, four guards in armor appeared on the threshold of the throne hall.

«Seize the old man!» the Tsar growled.

Two guards twisted Zankh’s arms behind his back, while two others stood on either side of him. The astrologer remained perfectly calm.

«I order you to execute this worthless worm tomorrow at dawn!» the Tsar pronounced his sentence.

«As you wish, Tsar… But remember — one day the Messenger on the White Horse will come…» the old man murmured in farewell.

After the astrologer and the guards had gone, the Tsar sat on the throne for a long time. Heavy thoughts tormented him.

And the next morning, news swept through the Holy City that the Tsar’s personal astrologer had been beheaded. It was said that during the execution he had been completely calm, like a man who had meekly accepted his fate.

Chapter 6

The Festival of Fertility

Grakhash and Efaksh came to their senses on a narrow sandy road. Majestic night reigned over the earth. It was dark, and the young friends, who were on their way to the monastery of Num, could see nothing around them.

«It’s strange that there are no torches burning along the road. They are always lit for the Festival of Fertility,» Grakhash remarked in surprise. His mother had been a priestess, and since childhood he had known the rites of all religious celebrations.

The sounds of the Great Festival of Fertility, being held that night in the monastery of Num, reached Grakhash and Efaksh. The closer the young friends came to the temple, the louder the human voices and temple music became.

But this was what surprised the young friends: the music and voices were not merry or truly festive. The music was heavy and aggressive; the beating of drums could be heard again and again. At times, human cries rang out, resembling shrieks.

«This festival of theirs is rather strange!» Grakhash said in bewilderment.

«Yes, as if they are burying someone — or preparing for a final battle!» Efaksh agreed.

«It’s a good thing I have my sword with me today!» said Grakhash, listening closely to the strange sounds.

«Maybe the old man mixed something up when he sent us here?» asked Efaksh.

Grakhash did not have time to answer him. The young friends had come right up to the monastery. Before them rose an enormous dark structure. Everything around it looked very gloomy. The vault of heaven was lit by the full moon. High in the sky, where the columns of the temple ended as they stretched upward, crows were circling. There were many of them. The crows cawed loudly, with a strained cry. Shivers ran down the backs of the young friends. It seemed that the crows had flocked here for a reason, and that they were waiting for something.

«Listen, Efaksh, crows gather where there is carrion,» Grakhash said warily.

Grakhash and Efaksh stood very close to the temple entrance. The sounds coming from behind the massive gates were terrible. There was human weeping, and groaning, and the roaring of animals. Drums boomed hollowly, and it could be heard that the people inside were wildly shouting the same word over and over, as though praising someone.

The young friends hesitated. They did not want to enter the frightening temple. But duty and conscience called Grakhash and Efaksh to fulfill the mission entrusted to them. They opened the massive gates. The sight that appeared before their eyes filled the hearts of the brave warriors with irresistible revulsion.

They saw a vast temple chamber. Towering columns supported the dome. On the walls were depicted goddesses connected with different states of womanhood: maidenhood, maturity, motherhood, love, and old age. Persephone and Demeter, Hera, Aphrodite, and Rhea looked with divine dignity upon everyone who entered the temple. The walls were spattered with blood.

The temple was noisy. There were many half-naked men and women, children, animals, and birds inside: horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens. The animals made a great deal of noise. The temple was filled with neighing and mooing, bleating, grunting, and clucking. The people’s nakedness was only partly hidden by loincloths. They behaved very strangely. Most of them, looking toward the place where the altar stood, continuously made rhythmic movements forward and backward with their bodies, moving like pendulums. Others, spinning in place in a dance known only to them, inflicted bloody wounds upon themselves with knives.

Grakhash and Efaksh were horrified by everything they saw. But the most terrible sight appeared before the young friends when they came almost right up to the altar.

The altar was a large cube covered with heavy red fabric. It rose two meters above the floor, so that everyone present could see what was happening during the temple service.

Usually, a deep bowl was placed on the altar, which during the service was filled with milk or honey. This was the people’s offering to the almighty gods. But the offering taking place now was entirely different.

Beside the altar stood a half-naked priest holding a knife in his hand. From time to time, someone from the crowd handed him a sheep, then a chicken, a pig, or a foal. The priest seized the animal tightly, dragged it to the altar, and cut its throat. Then he held the bleeding animal over the sacrificial bowl and filled it with blood.

On the other side of the altar stood a massive golden tripod. Upon it sat the main participant in the ritual taking place — the priestess of the Moon. She took the bowl filled with blood and solemnly drank it. Every time she drank the blood, the crowd below began to rage especially fiercely. The people whirling below cut bloody wounds into themselves with even greater force, frenziedly plunging huge knives into their tormented bodies. Some of them, bleeding heavily, fell dead.

While the priestess drank blood from the bowl, the priest was not idle either. He furiously butchered the sacrificial animal he had just killed on the altar. The priest threw pieces of fresh meat into a huge vase standing at the feet of the priestess of the Moon. After the priestess drank the contents of the bowl, she seized the pieces of meat one after another and devoured them. The crowd below went mad. Women shrieked loudly, men shouted warlike praises to the priestess of the Moon.

The blood of the sacrificial animals flowed down from the altar onto the floor. An entire lake of blood had already formed, and its amount kept increasing. The people standing close by stood ankle-deep in blood. In their frenzy, they bent down and drank the still-warm blood straight from the floor, at the same time rubbing it over their half-naked bodies.

The priestess of the Moon was completely naked. She wore only massive golden ornaments: a necklace around her neck, long earrings reaching her shoulders, and bracelets on her arms and legs. Not all the blood that the priestess drank from the bowl entered her mouth. It flowed down her naked body and fell onto the floor around her. The priestess’s face was brightly painted in different colors: lilac, crimson, and black. She had long, thick black hair falling almost to her waist. During the temple ritual, it had grown even darker and heavier, mingling with blood.

The crowd raged more and more. The people surrounding Grakhash and Efaksh loudly shouted the same word over and over. Because of the noise made by the crowd and the animals, Grakhash could not make it out. At last, he understood:

«Cybele! Cybele!» the people cried, worshiping the priestess. «O Mother Earth! Praise be to you, goddess!»

Since childhood, Grakhash had known that during temple festivals, priestesses symbolically embodied a deity that had descended from the heavens to take part in the people’s celebration. The ceremonies held during the festival helped people understand what that deity patronized. Thus, during the festival of fertility in the temple where Grakhash’s mother had served, Demeter — the goddess of fertility — was worshiped in the form of the priestess. The milk and honey poured into the bowl symbolized eternally fruit-bearing nature, whose gifts — plants and animals — fed humankind.

Suddenly, the priestess rose from the tripod, threw aside the bowl, and shrieked loudly:

«And now let us begin the festive meal!» — and pointed toward the left wall of the temple.

Turning their heads toward the wall indicated by the priestess, the young friends saw a long festive table stretching across the entire wall, covered with a red tablecloth. There was a great deal of food on the table. There was raw meat of animals and birds, and the bowls were filled with a red liquid. Grakhash thought it was not wine, but blood.

Hearing the priestess’s words, all the people in the temple immediately rushed to the laden table. They began greedily devouring the food upon it.

Grakhash and Efaksh stood bewildered in the middle of the emptied hall. Around them were only pools of blood and bloodied, half-butchered animal carcasses. Outside the window was a sultry summer night, and the animal corpses had begun to spoil. A disgusting, suffocating smell hung in the temple.

Meanwhile, the priestess of the Moon stood silently beside the altar, slowly looking around the hall. Her dark eyes, full of menace, came to rest on Grakhash and Efaksh. The priestess asked hoarsely:

«Hey, why are you not taking part in the festive supper?»

Grakhash thought he heard mockery in her voice. Everything he had seen in this temple seemed strange and frightening to him. Driving away his alarming thoughts, he answered:

«We came to this temple to receive initiation, priestess. The Bloody Mysteries are held here, are they not?»

The priestess’s eyes lit up with an evil fire. She said insinuatingly:

«Yes, the mysteries are held here. But in order to receive initiation, you will have to sacrifice something, warrior. Are you ready?»

Grakhash thought the priestess would ask him to sacrifice some valuable objects to the temple — for example, the golden amulet worn on the body by every warrior dedicated to the Tsar, or his weapon. This was common practice during temple mysteries.

«Yes, I am ready,» answered Grakhash.

When Grakhash spoke these words, the priestess’s eyes filled with blood, and greed flashed in them.

«Then sacrifice the life of your young friend!» she screamed. «Let him be your offering to the Mother-Moon!» And she laughed demonically.

Grakhash was paralyzed with horror. Efaksh, standing beside him, turned white as a sheet.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, several priests appeared. They seized Efaksh, who was in deep shock, and dragged him toward the altar.

Unexpectedly, the drums began to beat. The priestess, dancing in place, screamed throughout the temple:

«People! Let us bring our chief sacrifice! The Moon Goddess deserves human flesh!»

The people sitting at the table leapt up and, holding bowls filled with blood in their hands, shrieked:

«Death to him! Death to him!»

Grakhash wanted to run to Efaksh’s aid. But when he tried to move, he discovered that he could not stir. The priestess of the Moon, narrowing her blood-filled eyes, stared intently at Grakhash. It seemed that at any moment her gaze would turn Grakhash to stone.

For several minutes, the priestess did not take her terrible eyes off Grakhash. Meanwhile, the priests continued dragging the desperately resisting Efaksh toward the altar. The priestess opened her mouth and said sweetly:

«And now, to the table, brave warrior! Take part in our festive meal!»

And… Grakhash discovered with surprise that his legs were moving by themselves toward the enormous table. He did not want this; everything inside him resisted it, yet still he walked.

When Grakhash came right up to the table, the priestess said spitefully:

«We cannot continue our feast without our dear guest! Taste our dishes, warrior, and after that we shall bring our chief sacrifice!»

In horror, Grakhash watched as the priests finally dragged Efaksh to the altar and furiously tore the clothes from him. Under the priestess’s fixed gaze, he slowly lowered himself onto the bench standing at the head of the table. Pieces of meat and ears of wheat lay scattered across the table. The people sitting there settled back down and began devouring the food again.

The raw meat filled Grakhash with revulsion. He did not want to eat it. But, obeying the priestess’s invisible command, Grakhash’s hand reached out, took a piece of meat, and began bringing it to his mouth. At that moment, he saw with horror that Efaksh had been handed over to the chief priest. Efaksh cried out loudly, begging for help.

In despair, Grakhash looked around. His gaze fell upon the table. Meat lay on it. The man sitting beside Grakhash tore a large piece from the meat and began greedily devouring it.

Meanwhile, the priest at the altar raised the sacrificial knife over Efaksh.

One more minute, and Grakhash, against his will, would taste the food that disgusted him, becoming the same as the possessed people in the temple. One more moment, and Efaksh would be sacrificed to Cybele. Everything clouded before Grakhash’s eyes. The smell of narcotic incense and corpse miasma reigning in the temple was driving him mad. Grakhash desperately tried to concentrate. His gaze fell upon the table again. And suddenly…

Grakhash leapt to his feet and shouted loudly:

«This is not true! None of this exists!»

At that moment everything broke apart, crumbled away. The priestess of the Moon, the people in the temple, the animals — everything spun like a whirlwind before Grakhash’s eyes and… disappeared.

«It does not exist, does not exist, does not exist…» only the echo repeated after Grakhash.

Chapter 7

The Book of Anikelam

Grakhash and Efaksh stood on the stone steps of an ancient temple. It was surrounded by a high fence, and several other buildings could be seen around it. Grakhash realized that this was the monastery. The weather was wonderful. High above, the sky was piercingly blue. Trees were green, birds were singing. The sun shone brightly in the heavens, sending its warm, life-giving light down to the earth.

Efaksh looked himself over in confusion. He was completely naked, except for a loincloth.

«Do you know where my clothes are?» he asked Grakhash.

Grakhash looked at him in bewilderment.

«What, don’t you remember that they took them off you?» he asked Efaksh.

«Who took them off? When?» Efaksh cried.

Grakhash understood nothing. Can it be that Efaksh doesn’t remember that he has no clothes because they wanted to sacrifice him? Perhaps my friend has lost his mind after what he went through, he thought.

«Your friend is all right. He has not gone mad. He truly remembers nothing,» Grakhash heard a pleasant voice say.

Turning around, he saw a young, beautiful woman. She was descending the temple steps toward them. She was dressed in a white silk tunic. Her feet were shod in golden sandals. Grakhash heard a pleasant sound: the delicate earrings hanging from the woman’s ears were jingling. Judging by everything, she was a priestess in this temple. Coming closer, the woman said:

«I congratulate you, Grakhash. You have passed your first initiation and proved that you are worthy of gaining access to the Akashic Records.»

«I don’t understand anything. What initiation?» Efaksh asked excitedly. «We have only just arrived at the monastery! Can one receive initiation so quickly?»

«Tell your friend what happened to you,» the priestess said to Grakhash.

Briefly, Grakhash told Efaksh what had happened to them in the monastery. As Grakhash spoke, Efaksh’s eyes grew wider and wider. When Grakhash fell silent, Efaksh asked:

«But why do you remember it, and I don’t?»

The priestess said:

«You do not remember it because you were frightened. Fear bound your soul and slammed shut the door leading into the corridors of your memory. Grakhash was not frightened, and therefore he clearly remembers what happened.»

«That isn’t true. I was frightened too,» said Grakhash. «I can say that I was terrified.»

«Yes, you were afraid. But you tried to find a solution and focused inwardly. It was precisely because of this that fear could not fully take possession of you, and you saw the invisible,» said the priestess. «Tell us how you understood that everything happening to you was not real,» she asked.

«I saw that the meat from which the man sitting beside me had torn off a piece a few seconds earlier became the same again as it had been before he did so. I thought that in our world this was impossible, and I understood that all those people and that food were not from our world.»

Then Grakhash remembered that crows had been circling above the temple in the vision.

«Yes, you are right, Grakhash. It was an illusion created by Shahgarg. He wanted to frighten you so that you would fall forever into the Worlds of Reflections and be unable to fulfill your mission.»

«But if all of that was unreal, why did it carry over into the physical world? Why am I still without clothes?» asked Efaksh.

«Because you were too frightened, Efaksh. Our thoughts, desires, and feelings exist beyond space and time. It is also very important that you were more afraid for yourself than for your friend,» said the priestess. «And now let us go into the temple. You must pass the final stage of initiation, Grakhash.»

The priestess and the young friends climbed the steps and entered the temple. It was quiet inside. Only their footsteps echoed hollowly beneath the temple vaults. The walls and ceiling of the temple were decorated with mosaics depicting idyllic scenes of paradise that had once existed on earth. One mosaic showed the god Dionysus dancing with nymphs in the forest and drinking wine with shepherds. Another showed Artemis the huntress pursuing a doe. A third showed Persephone, holding seven pomegranate seeds in her hand, having just ridden out from beneath the earth in a golden chariot…

Grakhash’s gaze stopped on one of the mosaics. It depicted a very beautiful young girl. Grakhash felt as though he could sense spring freshness emanating from her. Her face was radiant and clear. She was driving a chariot drawn by winged horses. On another mosaic, she was shown running across a green meadow surrounded by a flock of snow-white lambs.

Grakhash asked the priestess:

«Who is that?»

«That is Selene, the goddess of reflected light,» she answered.

«The goddess of reflected light?» Grakhash repeated in surprise. «What does that mean? Once I heard that there are certain Worlds of Reflections…»

«Selene is one of the faces of the Moon. She is a pure, immaculate goddess, the bright image of the Moon. Selene gives people Good. Her opponent has always been Cybele — the dark side of the Moon, the goddess of Evil. You met Cybele today in your vision,» said the priestess, then fell silent in thought.

«But what does she have to do with the worlds of reflections?» Grakhash asked impatiently.

«Our ancient sources of secret knowledge say that the light of the Moon, which she sends to the earth every night, does not belong to her. The Moon reflects the light of the Sun. That is why Selene is called the goddess of reflected light,» the priestess said, falling silent again, and then added:

«The ancient texts say that the Moon is the mother of the Earth. Long ago, the Earth broke away from the Moon and became a separate planet. Soon after that, the Moon died. Life ceased within her. She cannot shine by herself. She can only reflect another’s light. The Moon will never forgive the Earth for this. Through Cybele, she takes revenge for her death… Our Earth, created by the Moon, will always be a world of reflections… But we have digressed. You, Efaksh, stay here. The priests will feed you and give you new clothes. Grakhash will come with me. He must complete his initiation.»

The priestess led Grakhash into a small temple chamber. It was completely dark inside. Candles were burning. The reflections of their flames drew hieroglyphs written on the walls out of the darkness. The priestess pointed Grakhash to the center of the hall:

«Stand here and close your eyes. You must relax deeply and think of nothing.»

Grakhash did as the priestess instructed. A few seconds after he closed his eyes, the entire room filled with music. Wonderful sounds filled Grakhash’s soul more and more strongly, and he began to see beautiful images.

…There he was, holding hands with some young girl, spinning in a circle. They were happy. Suddenly the girl turned around, and Grakhash saw that it was Freya. Grakhash understood that he was seeing one of his past lives. Apparently, this was the golden age of humankind, when paradise existed on earth.

Some young, slender youth approached them and, smiling, gave the girl a bouquet of narcissi. She went off somewhere with him. Grakhash was confused and crushed; he was jealous…

…In the evening, on a deserted road, Grakhash met his rival. They spoke. Grakhash made a biting joke about the young man’s relationship with the girl. The rival was insulted. He drew his sword, and Grakhash did the same. They fought, and Grakhash killed the youth…

…The girl learned that Grakhash had killed a man because of her. She was broken by grief. Now she and Grakhash could not be together…

…The sea. Restless waves crashed against the rocks. Grakhash saw the girl throw herself down from the cliff…

The images of the past ended. Grakhash felt tears flowing down his face. It seemed that at any moment his heart would tear apart. Grakhash sensed that someone had placed a palm against his chest.

The beautiful music continued to sound. Its harmonious notes penetrated deeper and deeper into Grakhash’s heart, touching the very depths of his soul. Grakhash began to see other images.

First, he heard the distant ringing of a little bell. The ringing gradually drew closer. At last, it sounded somewhere right beside Grakhash’s ear.

Ding-ding… Ding-ding…

The ringing lulled Grakhash, and he suddenly wanted very much to sleep. Consciousness slowly left him.

Suddenly, a large black raven appeared before Grakhash’s eyes. Grakhash saw in its claws the very little bell from which the quiet ringing came. The raven flapped its wings, and… some object appeared in its talons. When Grakhash looked closely, he saw that it was a thick, weighty book. The book opened, and Grakhash began to read it.

The book was written on some material unknown to him, outwardly resembling papyrus. Grakhash did not know the language in which the writings were inscribed, but to his great surprise, he understood perfectly what was written in the book.

«Every thought, desire, and action is nothing other than an imprint of eternity,» Grakhash read. «One event reflects another. Whoever finds two identical imprints will obtain a keyhole. Whoever has the keyhole will find the key. Whoever turns the key in the keyhole will open the Truth.»

Grakhash was amazed. He realized that he was reading the sacred book of Anikelam.

«…You will find Merrog in Dantaiya — the valley of lakes… Hurry…» croaked the raven. But the raven’s beak was closed, and Grakhash understood that he was hearing its words in his thoughts.

The ringing of the little bell began to slowly recede. Grakhash once again began to become aware of what was happening. Now the music began to fade. Now he heard the priestess’s voice very close to him:

«The initiation is complete.»

Grakhash opened his eyes. The candles had been extinguished. Through a rounded window in the roof of the temple, a bright shaft of sunlight fell upon him.

How amazing, he thought, squinting in the sunlight. Just now this chamber was in darkness, and my consciousness too was in darkness. Tonight I saw Hell, and now I am in Paradise. How close they are: Day and Night, Light and Darkness, Selene and Cybele…

«Have you understood that you must hurry?» the priestess interrupted his thoughts.

Grakhash looked up at her in surprise. Suddenly, he clearly realized that she knew everything about his visions.

The priestess led Grakhash into the hall where the young friends had first begun their acquaintance with the temple. Efaksh, dressed in clean new clothes, was already waiting for him.

From Grakhash’s face, he understood the course of their further actions.

«We are in a hurry again, aren’t we?»

Grakhash nodded. He began quickly thanking the priestess. She gave him parting instructions:

«The book of Anikelam will appear before you each time you think of it. Its appearance will be announced to you by the little bell. But you must not speak with the raven. It is the eternal guardian of the Sacred Book. But… I feel that I am delaying you. Go quickly to Dantaiya.»

Grakhash took out the Amulet and rapidly pronounced the magical formula:

«O Isis! Remove the veil from my eyes; allow me to see the light of Anima Mundi… I wish to be in Dantaiya, in the place where Merrog is…»

Chapter 8

Merrog’s Magic

Grakhash and Efaksh came to their senses in a forest clearing beneath the crown of an ancient oak. Overcoming the slight fatigue that came over them each time they traveled through space and time, the young friends quickly rose to their feet and went forward, looking around. They were searching for Merrog, believing that the magical Amulet had brought them exactly where they needed to be.

The wide path along which the young friends walked clearly led somewhere, but nothing could be seen through the dense branches of the trees.

Grakhash had already seen Merrog in the astrologer’s crystal ball. He had described to Efaksh the terrible Crocodile with the body of a man. And now the young friends expected the dreadful monster to appear before them at any moment.

The path led them to the shore of a lake. It was so enormous that the dense forest standing on its far shore seemed blue because of the bluish haze enveloping it.

At the edge of the lake, quite close to them, stood a beautiful young girl. It looked as though she was washing laundry. But, looking more closely, Grakhash realized that she was whispering something while bending over the waters of the lake. Narrowing his eyes, the young hero carefully studied the features of her face. The girl was sitting with her head turned slightly in his direction, and he was able to make her out well. The girl’s face was beautiful, but there was something predatory and cruel in it.

Suddenly, the girl rose sharply and turned to face Grakhash and Efaksh, staring straight at them. The young friends exchanged puzzled glances. The girl clapped her hands and… began slowly melting into the air.

A realization pierced Grakhash. He rushed at the girl, thrusting his sword forward.

«Grakhash, Grakhash, what are you doing?» Efaksh shouted in bewilderment.

But it was already too late. The girl melted into the air. In despair, Grakhash threw his sword to the ground and covered his face with his hands.

«Everything is lost, lost,» he repeated bitterly.

«Grakhash, Grakhash, what is lost?» Efaksh asked, stumbling over his questions.

«Everything is lost,» Grakhash repeated. «We let Merrog escape.»

«Merrog? Was that him?» Efaksh asked again.

«Yes, it was Merrog. Remember, the astrologer told us that he can take on any form he wishes and move into any dimension he wants,» Grakhash confirmed. «He has just gone into another dimension. But I don’t understand why we let him escape. After all, the sacred book of Anikelam told us that we would find him here.»

«We did find him here,» Efaksh remarked sarcastically, already beginning to grow tired of their exhausting adventures.

«Here is what I will tell you, my dear friend,» Grakhash said thoughtfully. «Not everything is so simple with these magical things. I think something depends on us too…»

«In any case, I suggest we not be upset,» said Efaksh. «First, we need to rest a little so that we can begin the search again with renewed strength. I suggest we return to that wonderful oak and rest in its life-giving coolness. Then it will be easier, and perhaps the answer will come as to what we should do next.»

«You are right,» Grakhash said bitterly. «Let’s go.»

The young friends quickly walked along the path into the depths of the forest and soon found themselves once again near the ancient oak. The tree was so old that its bark had almost turned to stone on the outside. But the oak was green, and the wind rustled in its fluffy branches. It was a sunny summer day.

Grakhash and Efaksh lay down on the ground beside the mighty oak and dozed off.

The valley of lakes — Dantaya — lay thousands of kilometers away from the monastery of Num. As a child, Grakhash had heard about it from his mother. It was an amazingly peaceful place. Here, small villages stood a short distance from one another. Tiny houses with red roofs looked like something from a fairy tale. The villagers knew one another by sight. They were always sincerely benevolent and remarkably polite to one another.

When Grakhash awoke, he did not immediately notice the roofs of houses showing through the foliage. The buildings were very hard to see. Apparently, this was why the young friends had not noticed them the first time, when they had been searching for Merrog. Grakhash realized that it was a little village.

Suddenly, Grakhash heard voices. Looking more closely, he saw the villagers returning from the lake. The inhabitants of Dantaya often went to the lakes they revered. Water was the source of their life. Every time they returned from the lake, they were filled with energy and boundless happiness.

However, now Grakhash did not see the usual joy on the faces of the inhabitants of Dantaya. Gloomy gray shadows were returning from the lake. The people’s faces were very pale, their bodies sickly. Their eyes were bloodshot; in some, they darted about nervously, while in others they had rolled back altogether. In amazement, Grakhash watched the sorrowful procession. Efaksh had already awakened and stood beside him silently in bewilderment.

Suddenly, an animal roar came from the thicket. Grakhash and Efaksh exchanged frightened glances, preparing to see a predator.

But from behind the trees appeared an elderly peasant woman in a white apron. Her head dangled from side to side, her hands made chaotic movements in the air, and hatred burned in her inflamed eyes. The peasant woman’s mouth spewed terrible curses.

When one of the pale shadows came level with the young friends, Grakhash decided to ask him a question. It was a neatly dressed young peasant.

«Tell me, what has happened to you?» Grakhash asked.

The peasant slowly turned his head, looked at the young friends with clouded eyes, and… threw himself to the ground. The peasant began rolling on the ground, beating his chest, and growling like an animal.

«R-r-r-r… Curse you, Dantaya… Curse all of you…» fragments of phrases reached Grakhash and Efaksh.

It seemed that everything in the peasant’s chest was boiling; his throat was choking on the terrible sounds it was producing.

Grakhash and Efaksh looked around. Now all the people returning to the village were behaving just as strangely. People growled like wild beasts, waved their arms, jumped, performing unimaginable pirouettes in the air, mooed, and barked.

An elderly man passed by the young friends. His head, like a pendulum, kept swaying now to the right, now to the left. He was quietly muttering something under his breath. Listening closely, Grakhash and Efaksh realized that he was talking to himself.

Some young peasant woman ran out of the forest from the direction of the village and, wringing her hands, cried out:

«Misfortune! Misfortune! Dantaya has been cursed! Misfortune to us all! The lake has been cursed!»

The peasant woman picked up a boy who had run out after her and, judging by everything, had intended to run to the lake for a swim.

«Do not go to the lake! It is cursed!» the peasant woman shouted to Grakhash and Efaksh. «Whoever bathes in it, or drinks its water, will become like them!» she sobbed, pointing at the people passing by.

Grakhash and Efaksh stood beneath the ancient oak, gazing at the terrible scene. Suddenly, Grakhash fell into thought. He reflected for a minute, then said:

«I think Merrog cursed the lake. It was he who was at the lake. I am sure of it.»

«But what are we to do now?» asked Efaksh. «Where are we supposed to look for him now?»

«I think we did not end up here by chance,» said Grakhash. «Freeing these people from the curse is part of our mission. That is why the book of Anikelam brought us here.»

«But how will we free them from the curse?» asked Efaksh.

«I don’t know. We must ask the book of Anikelam,» said Grakhash, and thought of the sacred book.

That very second, he heard the quiet ringing of a little bell somewhere near his right ear. Then, before his inner sight, a raven appeared. It flapped its wings, and the sacred book opened. To Grakhash’s surprise, it opened precisely to the page he needed. Grakhash began to read.

The book of Anikelam was not written like ordinary books. Wherever Grakhash’s gaze fell, golden-orange letters appeared, but as soon as he looked away, the mysterious writing vanished. Therefore no one except Grakhash could ever have read the wondrous book — even if they had been beside him at that moment.

«The water in the lake of Dantaya was cursed by Merrog,» Grakhash read.

«Look!» croaked the raven, and moving images appeared on the pages of the book.

Grakhash peered closely. He saw millions of strange entities. Some of them had horns and hooves, others had large membranous wings, and still others were altogether shapeless. They made a great deal of noise. There were shrieks, cries, and other unpleasant sounds.

I have heard this somewhere before, flashed through Grakhash’s mind.

The next moment, Grakhash saw that the entities were clinging to stone walls and a stone ceiling. He realized that they seemed to be suspended from them, though they were holding on by themselves.

There was no floor in this chamber. A long tunnel descended somewhere downward. Something red could be seen at the bottom of the tunnel. Sometimes it seemed to advance toward the chamber where the entities were, and then retreat again. Grakhash understood that it was lava. The entities were beneath the earth, at its very heart.

Then Grakhash saw the girl sitting beside the lake. She whispered something, and that very second millions of entities beneath the earth flew swiftly upward, to the surface of the earth. Having emerged from the underworld, they hovered low in the air above the ground for some time, remaining invisible to the people busy with their affairs by the lake. Then the entities began falling one after another into the Sacred Lake. Together with the water that people drank and in which they bathed, the messengers of Hell penetrated their bodies.

Now an elderly peasant woman who had been washing laundry fell and began growling like a wild beast. Now a young peasant, after taking a sip of water from the lake, began beating his chest and shouting, «I hate, I hate!..»

A pleasant voice began speaking in Grakhash’s head. Only it was impossible to understand to whom it belonged: a man or a woman.

«Millions of years this army has awaited its hour. And now it has come. The End of Times has arrived. At Merrog’s command, they have finally emerged to the surface. They will enter every human being, and in every human being a thinking particle of evil will appear. They are all Merrog’s children. They will always be drawn to their father — and with them, people who no longer have power over their bodies and minds. And people will do what Merrog needs. The peaceful inhabitants of Dantaya would never willingly have gone to war against the City of the Sun. And now they are obedient tools in the hands of the Forces of Evil. The same would sooner or later have happened to all the inhabitants of the Earth who do not wish to serve them. The book of Anikelam did not bring you here by chance, Grakhash. You must stop this, and stop it now.»

But why did Merrog not do this earlier, and instead allow the inhabitants of Earth to live peacefully? What prevented him from doing it earlier? Grakhash thought.

«Merrog did not have enough strength for it. He was waiting for a favorable moment, when the planets would take certain positions,» Grakhash heard in his thoughts.

But what can I do to stop this? Grakhash thought.

«Because of the curse Merrog placed upon it, the water in the Sacred Lake became dead,» the letters on the pages of the book flared up. «You must find living water, Grakhash, and then the possessed inhabitants of Dantaya will become as they were before.»

The last letters vanished from the page of the book, and no new ones appeared. Grakhash strained to receive new information, staring into the book.

Where should I search for living water? he asked the same question again and again.

But the pages of the book folded together, and it closed. The little bell rang, and somewhere in the depths of his consciousness Grakhash saw the raven flying away into the dark distance.

Awakening from the trance he had been in, Grakhash saw Efaksh beside him. Efaksh was waiting impatiently for Grakhash to speak to him. Grakhash told him what he had read in the sacred book.

«I do not know where to look for living water,» he finished his story.

«I suggest we rest a little,» said Efaksh. «Let’s go and rest beneath the tree. Maybe we’ll be able to sleep for a while. Though I doubt we can after everything that has happened.»

With a heavy sigh, Grakhash agreed. The young friends went back to the ancient oak and settled comfortably beneath it. Efaksh fell peacefully asleep. Grakhash sank into a heavy drowsiness.

Suddenly, Grakhash saw the Milky Way and the stars scattered across the sky. Someone was walking toward him along the Milky Way. When the person came closer, Grakhash saw that it was the old astrologer.

«How glad I am to see you!» Grakhash exclaimed joyfully.

«I told you that we would meet again,» Zankh said mysteriously.

«But how did you get here?» Grakhash looked around. «Why are we meeting on the Milky Way? You are supposed to be in the palace!»

«I am no longer in the palace, Grakhash,» the astrologer said sadly. «I am dead. Two days after our meeting, I was executed by order of the Tsar.»

Stricken by grief, Grakhash was speechless. He wanted to say something comforting to the astrologer, but could not force out a single word.

«Let us not speak of what is not within our power to change,» the old man said firmly. «I have come to teach you how to find living water.»

Grakhash turned entirely into attention.

«You will not find living water in some miraculous lake on Earth. Such a lake does not exist. Living water is in the same place as dead water, in the very same lake cursed by Merrog.»

«But how is that possible? The water in the lake is poisoned; people cannot drink it!» exclaimed Grakhash.

«Listen to me, Grakhash,» the astrologer continued. «Every thing in our Universe contains both good and evil. It is like the two sides of the Moon: dark and light. One must only know how to bring this to the surface. Here, in the Worlds of Reflections, one must only turn the swiftly vanishing reflection to the side one needs.»

«But how can that be done?» Grakhash asked impatiently.

«Look, tonight there is a full Moon in the sky!» The old man pointed with his finger to the round orb emitting a faint silvery light.

Grakhash cast a glance at the Moon and thought that only recently it had been a crescent, a half-round sickle that grew larger and larger each day until it turned into the round face of a Maiden with plump cheeks.

Meanwhile, the astrologer continued his explanations:

«You see, the Sun and the Moon, the Day and Night luminaries, have moved solemnly in a circle of twelve houses since the creation of the Universe, passing from one house to another… As I have already told you, the Moon envies the glory of the Sun, because she does not have as much warmth and light as the Sun does, and people will never love her as strongly as they love the Sun… But every month, on the day of the full moon, the Moon, which moves faster than all the other planets, stops in the house located in that circle opposite the house illuminated by the Sun that day… And the Moon looks at the Sun from afar, yet directly, gazing enviously into its shining face, and she desires to become as great as the Sun. And the Sun, from its house, looks at the Moon, and at times it seems to it that it is looking into a mirror and sees there its pale, ghostly reflection…»

Holding his breath, Grakhash listened to the astrologer’s wondrous tale, while the old man kept speaking and speaking:

«We all depend on the Moon — our mother, Grakhash. In each of us there is a particle of the Moon, and this particle gives birth to our desires. On this day, our desires are reflected like in a mirror from the surface of the Moon. Returning to Earth, desires turn into reality. And depending on whether our desires are good or bad, whether we desire good or evil, in reality we see the beautiful or ugly consequences of our desires. Long ago, in ancient manuscripts, I read words spoken by God Himself: „Fear desires, for they are always fulfilled.“ Merrog did not choose this day for the curse by chance. The words he spoke over the waters of the Sacred Lake turned into reality the dark desires of the inhabitants of Dantaya, accumulated by them over long centuries.»

«But did the inhabitants of Dantaya really have dark desires? Since childhood, I have heard about Dantaya, and I know that there are no kinder people on all the earth,» exclaimed Grakhash.

«All people living on earth have a dark side to their soul. In some, it is developed more; in others, less. Very long ago, when humanity did not yet exist, the Supreme God loved Hecate — the dark half of the Moon — and from their union the first man was born. Since then, all people living on earth have carried within themselves a seed of evil. This seed often manifests itself as jealousy, envy, hatred. Even if a person is very good, he cannot live his life without at least once envying, becoming jealous, taking offense, or growing angry… Over the millennia of humanity’s existence, people have accumulated enough negative desires. Merrog used them to place his curse. If people were completely pure and immaculate, Merrog’s magical formulas would never have taken effect, remaining only empty words.»

«But how can I break these spells?» Grakhash asked again. «I think it must be very difficult!»

«Ancient texts say that one pure thought can destroy the strongest magic. I will tell you how to do it,» said the astrologer, and brought his lips very close to Grakhash’s ear. «Listen then, warrior…»

Then he whispered something into Grakhash’s ear. The old astrologer spoke for a long time, and no one in the entire universe heard what he told Grakhash.

When he had finished speaking, the old man said:

«And now go, and do everything I have told you. Your goal is the salvation of people, and this is another step on the path toward it.»

The old man quickly walked back along the Milky Way, in the direction from which he had come. Soon he dissolved completely against the background of the starry sky.

Grakhash opened his eyes. Not a trace of the heavy sleep remained. His soul felt bright and light.

Grakhash began shaking Efaksh:

«Get up, I know what to do now!»

«Oh, why? I was sleeping so well,» Efaksh grumbled sleepily in displeasure.

«Are you coming with me to save humanity or not?» Grakhash asked mockingly. «If you are, then hurry — I’m already leaving!»

«All right, all right,» Efaksh hastened. «I’m coming,» and rose to his feet.

The friends looked at the sky. It was blue-blue, almost black, and stars were scattered across it. Judging by everything, they had slept for a very long time, since day had already given way to evening, and night was about to fall.

«Now is the right time for the ritual,» Grakhash said.

The young friends once again walked along the path toward the Sacred Lake. They stopped silently at the very edge of the water.

«Remember, friend, you must concentrate on your strongest desire,» Grakhash began instructing Efaksh. «But do not forget that it must be the purest and most selfless desire you have ever experienced!»

«Yes, I understand, I understand!» Efaksh interrupted his teachings impatiently.

Grakhash looked upward again. The full Moon was shining in the sky. It seemed that a soft and gentle light flowed from it.

How deceptive you are, Grakhash thought to himself.

In his right hand, Grakhash held a small pocket mirror he had taken from Efaksh. Boys never part with such things. In this, the old astrologer had not been mistaken.

Efaksh stood silently, his head thrown back, looking at the Moon.

Grakhash also stood for some time, concentrating. Then he slowly turned his back to the Moon. Raising the mirror, he began staring intently into it so that the Moon too was reflected on its surface. In his left hand, Grakhash held the Amulet of the Moon, received from the old astrologer.

«O Isis! Remove the veil from my eyes; allow me to see the light of Anima Mundi…»

«VII, VI, V, IX, III…» the numbers on the sacred amulet lit up with golden fire.

Then Grakhash began to think. With all his strength, he tried to think of something bright, of the good of all people on earth. But those thoughts barely came into his head. Only one thought pulsed ceaselessly in his mind, coming so easily as though a door had been opened for it.

Freya, Freya, I love you, Grakhash thought at that important moment, and he could do nothing about it.

At last, something happened. Grakhash did not even understand at first what it was. In the mirror he held in his hands, the reflection of the Moon suddenly flared up, illuminated by an inner light, and quickly went out.

Grakhash understood that the ritual was over. He turned and looked at Efaksh. Efaksh stood looking at the Moon, absorbed in thoughts of his own.

«Friend, didn’t you realize that everything is already over?» Grakhash patted Efaksh on the shoulder in a friendly way.

«No, I thought it would go on for a long time,» Efaksh said thoughtfully.

«Didn’t you see something bright flash on the Moon?» Grakhash asked in surprise.

«No. Was there something?» Efaksh asked again.

Grakhash smiled inwardly. At that moment he understood: what one person sees is far from always just as obvious to another.

«All right, we will wait until morning comes,» Grakhash smiled. «Then we will find out what our magical manipulations have led to.»

Grakhash looked at the sky again. The constellation Aquarius shone there. From two vessels, Aquarius poured living and dead water down upon the Earth.

The young friends returned once more beneath the branches of the ancient oak and fell soundly asleep.

When they woke in the morning, the first thing they heard was the cheerful laughter of peasants walking past the young friends toward the village. Judging by everything, they were returning from the lake.

Grakhash and Efaksh exchanged meaningful glances and ran as fast as they could to the Sacred Lake. Reaching the water, the young friends stopped. Before their eyes, a peasant woman led to the lake the possessed young peasant with whom Grakhash and Efaksh had spoken the day before. The peasant woman was pushing him into the water with all her strength. As he entered the water, the peasant resisted desperately. He growled, howled, and hurled curses.

But as soon as he plunged into the lake water once, his eyes cleared again, the convulsions disappeared, and his arms and legs took on their usual appearance.

«Now the Sacred Lake has truly become Sacred,» Grakhash pronounced solemnly. «For now there is living water in it.»

«A miracle, a miracle!» the young friends heard behind them.

Turning around, they saw the elderly peasant woman walking surrounded by her relatives. She was completely healthy.

«A miracle, a miracle!» her relatives continued shouting. «This morning she got up as she used to be! The delusion has passed!»

When the crowd came closer, Grakhash asked:

«You must have given her water from the lake to drink?»

«No, we did not,» one of the relatives answered.

«Did she bathe in the lake?» asked Efaksh.

«No, we told you: she woke up healthy today,» someone in the crowd insisted.

«But that is astonishing!» exclaimed Efaksh. «Why is that?» he asked Grakhash.

«My friend,» Grakhash began, «yesterday I understood the following from the astrologer’s words. There is no such thing as living or dead water. Water is one, like any matter. It only changes its energy to positive or negative, depending on what kind of thought is applied to it: good or evil. Yesterday, with our pure thoughts, we changed the matter of the water that had been spoiled by Merrog’s curse. Any matter initially contains both a seed of good and a seed of evil. What matters is only to make those seeds sprout. The drops of water that entered people from the lake are particles of the original water in the lake. They are particles that will never forget their homeland — the lake. They will always remember it and preserve their connection with it. Energy is transmitted from one particle to another through space and time. That is why the energy of the Sacred Lake entered people even at a distance.»

Stunned, Efaksh listened to his friend’s words. In his heart, he felt that today one of the most secret truths of the Universe had been revealed to him.

But suddenly, a strange noise sounded behind them. Grakhash and Efaksh turned around and saw that someone was hiding behind the bushes. Judging by the sounds coming from there, it was an animal. It rustled around a little longer and ran out into the clearing. Before the eyes of the young friends appeared a young, strong donkey. It shook its tail comically and ran briskly up to Efaksh.

«My God, it’s a donkey!» Efaksh shouted in delight. «My dream has come true!»

«What dream is that?» Grakhash asked suspiciously. A vague guess flashed through his head.

«Yesterday you told me to think about my most sincere and pure desire,» Efaksh began telling him breathlessly. «And I thought about how much I wanted to have my own donkey. It has been my dream since childhood. You can ride a donkey, carry things, and transport other people for pay. Thank God! Now I will never go hungry!» Efaksh raised his hands to the sky.

«You are an idiot, Efaksh!» Grakhash exclaimed indignantly. «I told you to think about the good of all humanity, and instead you thought about your own skin!»

«But… if I don’t go hungry, that will benefit all humanity too,» Efaksh remarked modestly, lowering his eyes.

«What an idiot you are, Efaksh,» Grakhash repeated. «You should be grateful that all the inhabitants of Dantaya did not turn into donkeys!»

«I won’t do it again, Grakhash,» Efaksh blushed deeply. «I promise you.»

«I no longer believe you,» Grakhash continued indignantly. «In the temple of Hecate, you also got into trouble because you thought only about your own skin. I refuse to continue my journey with you. I cannot rely on you in fulfilling my high mission,» Grakhash said, proudly raising his head.

«Please, friend!» Efaksh pleaded. «Forgive me, I won’t do it again!»

«All right, this time I forgive you,» Grakhash softened. «For the last time.»

«Thank you, my friend,» Efaksh rejoiced. «For the sake of our friendship, I will even give up this wonderful donkey.»

«You? Give it up?» Grakhash burst out laughing. «You will never get rid of it now! It is the realization of your desire!»

And indeed, all the while the young friends were speaking, the donkey stubbornly followed them.

«God said: fear desires, for they always come true,» Grakhash recalled the astrologer’s words. «But that means… that soon I will meet… Freya! I was thinking of her!»

…And all matter, not only on earth but in the entire universe, was nothing other than water — fluid, receptive, and changeable moisture, passing from one state into another… And the Tree called the World Tree was not only earthly, but universal. And this Tree had forty-nine branches, and each of them was higher than the one before it. And near each branch, hidden in the clouds, there was a Kingdom. And the total number of these Kingdoms was forty-nine.

Those especially far-sighted might have seen the battlements on the fortress walls of these Kingdoms, and pointed towers with banners raised above them… At the very top of the World Tree, in the forty-ninth Kingdom, a mighty river had its source, carrying its waters downward, flowing through all forty-nine Kingdoms… And the water thickened into matter…

And the matter woven in the Kingdoms close to the top of the World Tree was so subtle that a human being could never have seen it; it was weightless dew… But the matter woven in the Kingdoms that lay far below the middle of the World Tree was a veil that people could have seen, though not all of them, and it flowed as a pure river…

The fabrics created in the Kingdoms located at the foot of the World Tree were denser, and the river’s flow slowed within them… In the first three Kingdoms, matter was especially heavy; it was a coarse covering, dark and viscous waters brought to a halt…

And only sparks of flame can, here in the lower Kingdoms, stir up the water frozen in the swamp, so that mighty waves may roll through matter… But just one black drop can extinguish the rising wave, stopping the river again and turning it into a rotten well…

Chapter 9

The Heavenly Ladder

The young friends settled on the shore of the Sacred Lake.

«We need to ask the book of Ankelam what we should do next,» said Grakhash, and thought of it.

And once again he heard the approaching ringing of a little bell; the raven flapped its wings, and the book opened.

«Where should I look for Shakhgarg?» Grakhash asked. Throughout all his adventures, he had not forgotten for a single minute that he had to catch his mother’s murderer. This was Grakhash’s most cherished dream. Every night he had terrible dreams in which he again and again saw the scene of the murder, but, to his great sorrow, could do nothing to help Aya. And now, after Merrog’s spells had been destroyed, Grakhash thought that he could finally think of blood vengeance.

The pages of the Sacred Book kept turning, but Grakhash could not read the answer to his question.

«Go to the Higher World,» the raven croaked into his ear after several minutes.

«The Higher World? Where is that?» Grakhash asked the book, and immediately read the answer:

«There are three main worlds: the Middle, the Lower, and the Higher… People live in the Middle…»

«And how do they differ from one another?» asked Grakhash.

«Warrior! Hear the Truth…» the book answered. «Sooner or later every person dies. But his thoughts, desires, and feelings are eternal. They never die, but continue to live in other worlds, different from the physical world. Low, evil thoughts and desires live in the Lower World, while high, bright, good ones live in the Higher World. Shakhgarg is a being from the Lower World, but he is so powerful that he can rise even into the Higher World.»

«But I don’t understand,» Grakhash exclaimed in surprise. «What do these thoughts and desires look like?» The warrior was extremely intrigued.

The answer did not appear for a long time. It seemed as though the book were thinking. At last, several pages turned, and Grakhash read:

«They resemble themselves. Although… quite often they look like the people who gave birth to them.»

«But how can I rise into the Higher World?» asked Grakhash.

«You will climb there by the Heavenly Ladder,» fiery letters lit up in the book.

«And what is the Heavenly Ladder?» Grakhash asked again.

«It is the Ladder that connects all worlds. With the help of the Sacred Amulet of the Moon, you will open the door leading to it.»

«But how?» asked Grakhash.

«To do this, you must imagine a tall ladder, with one end resting upon the earth and the other vanishing into the clouds, and then pronounce the word of entry into the dimension you wish to enter,» the letters flared up in the Sacred Book, and then it closed.

When Grakhash came to himself, Efaksh whistled.

«Well, now! All this time you were sitting with your eyes open and moving them from side to side as though you were reading something in the air! Did you learn something new?»

Grakhash told Efaksh what he had learned from the Sacred Book.

«And will you take me with you to the Heavenly Ladder?» Efaksh asked slyly.

Grakhash glanced at him suspiciously.

«And you won’t let me down?»

«No, I promise,» Efaksh pleaded.

«Then all right. Let’s go,» said Grakhash, and took the Sacred Amulet from his pocket.

«O Isis! Remove the veil from my eyes; allow me to see the light of Anima Mundi…» the warrior quickly pronounced.

«…IX, VI, III, V, VII…» the numbers on the amulet lit up one after another.

And suddenly, before the eyes of the young friends, a wooden door appeared. It was small, but massive. Mysterious writings were carved upon it. Above the door, a plaque had been nailed, and on it, in golden letters, was inscribed: «Remember yourself.»

«An interesting motto!» Efaksh remarked.

«I think it means something,» said Grakhash.

A golden ring protruded from the door. Grakhash pulled it, and the door opened.

The sight that appeared before the young friends shook them to the depths of their souls. Directly before them, a wide stone staircase stretched both upward and downward. It had a countless number of steps. Neither the beginning nor the end of the staircase could be seen.

Various entities hurried back and forth along the stairs. Judging by everything, there were representatives here of both the Higher and Lower Worlds.

Paying no attention to the young friends, a tall, slender woman was ascending upward. She was beautiful. Her dress was woven from the finest fabric in wondrous shades. A bouquet of roses crowned her head. Her beautiful blue eyes shone with an inner light.

«That is love!» exclaimed Grakhash. «Someone was thinking about love!»

Efaksh nodded as though enchanted.

Somewhere to the side, a door opened, and some woman, bent over, began descending downward. She was very ugly. She wore a dirty dress made of black and green fabric. The woman’s face was wrinkled, her eyelids slightly lowered, and crooked teeth protruded forward. Her eyes were full of malice.

«Look! That is envy!» said Efaksh.

The young friends heard some commotion behind them. Turning around, they saw a man and a woman on one of the lower steps. Judging by their clothes, they were city dwellers. Apparently, they were inhabitants of one of the lower worlds, since one of the side doors was open. They stood on the step and were talking about something. Grakhash and Efaksh listened.

«Oh, how I hate you!» the woman’s words reached them. «Admit that you were with her! Say that you spent last evening with that slovenly girl!»

The warrior and the boy exchanged glances.

«Clearly. That is jealousy,» Efaksh stated.

«Yes, apparently someone was very jealous and thought about it all the time,» Grakhash agreed.

A rumble sounded. A man appeared on one of the lower steps. He was leading a horse harnessed to a large, solidly built cart. The man descended several steps and disappeared through one of the side doors.

«Why, we know him!» exclaimed Efaksh. «That is the young peasant from Dantaya who was enchanted! But why is he here?»

«That is not him,» said Grakhash. «Those are his thoughts. Apparently, he dreamed very much of having a cart. And now he lives here with it.»

«Well, well…» Efaksh said in delight.

«By the way, now I know the place where your donkey used to live before it materialized in our world,» Grakhash remarked ironically.

Grakhash and Efaksh stood on the step a little longer, watching the inhabitants of the Higher and Lower Worlds passing by them.

And suddenly Grakhash saw something interesting.

Flapping its membranous wings and hopping from step to step, a black horned imp was descending into the Lower World. Stepping solemnly in golden sandals and leaving snow-white feathers all around, a small host of angels was ascending into the Higher World.

«And why are those here?» Grakhash said in surprise. «They are from fairy tales!» Then he caught himself.

«I understand: people believe in them, think about them! They must be here!»

On each step stood two guards dressed in golden armor. Each guard held a golden spear in his hand.

Grakhash stepped onto the first step, which led into the fourth dimension. Efaksh followed him. Then the young friends took another step and found themselves on the second step.

But suddenly the guards blocked their way with their spears.

«I am sorry, but only one of you may pass here,» one of them said.

«But why?» Efaksh asked indignantly, guessing that they meant him.

«Your consciousness does not correspond to this dimension. You are too attached to the earth. Your thoughts and desires will not be able to live in this world. They will die at once, and together with them, you will die as well. We cannot allow you to die. Your time has not yet come,» the guard said impassively, addressing Efaksh.

«I knew it,» Grakhash muttered irritably, casting a sidelong glance at Efaksh. «Your selfish interests have let us down even here. All right, return to earth and wait for me there. I hope we shall meet again soon.»

With his head bowed, Efaksh obediently turned and went down. From the indignant slam of the door, Grakhash understood that his friend was back on earth.

Grakhash took a step onto the stair leading into the fifth dimension. The guards did not stop him.

Grakhash turned first to the right, then to the left. There were doors on both sides.

I wonder which one I need to enter? the warrior thought.

As if hearing his words, one of the doors opened.

Coming closer to the door, he saw that a plaque had been nailed above it as well. Upon it, words were engraved in silver: «What you imagine, is.»

Another interesting motto, thought Grakhash.

Looking inside, Grakhash saw a green, hilly plain. Directly before him, a wide road stretched obligingly into the distance.

Grakhash entered. The door slammed shut behind him, and he found himself completely alone in a dimension foreign to him.

Grakhash walked along the road at an unhurried pace. He walked for a long time, and all that time there was nothing around him except green grass beneath his feet and a bright blue sky above his head. He did not encounter even trees or shrubs along the way.

At last, Grakhash saw a wide river, with a wooden bridge thrown across it to the other side. On the opposite bank, a mill slowly turned its wings. One, two, three; one, two, three — the mill’s wings touched the water with a splash. There was something eternal, true, and lulling in those sounds. One, two, three; one, two, three. Grakhash’s eyes began to close. Gathering his last strength, he tried not to fall asleep. At last, through the haze that veiled his eyes, he was able to make out a silhouette. It was Shakhgarg. Grakhash recognized his hawk-like nose and transparent cloak.

He is trying to put me to sleep again! flashed through Grakhash’s mind. Do not sleep! Hold on!

Shakhgarg stood on the bridge. Grakhash stood on the ground, on the opposite bank. In three leaps, Shakhgarg crossed the space that separated him from Grakhash, soared into the air, and dealt Grakhash a crushing blow with his sword.

With an incredible effort of will, Grakhash shook off the deadly fatigue and drew from its sheath the sword from which he never parted. Gathering his strength, he made a counter-thrust.

Shakhgarg began circling around Grakhash in the air. He struck one blow after another, trying to wound Grakhash.

«Ha, ha, ha,» the demonic laughter of the entity rang out again and again. «I am invincible; you will never prevail over me.»

Grakhash’s eyelids began to close again. For a moment he shut his eyes. When he opened them once more, he could not believe his own eyes. Shakhgarg was not alone. There were… many of them.