The Spindle of Fate. Defeating the Dark. Sergey Bilarin

      ISBN 978-5-0051-4157-6

      Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero

      Introduction

      This is the first story in the «The Spindle of Fate» series. It depicts a battle between Heaven and Hell for the right to possess the Spindle of Fate. This ancient artifact chooses an ordinary young girl, Marina, as its Keeper. Envoys of the rival powers set out for Earth. However, is Marina such an ordinary girl? The book also contains other short stories in the science fiction and fantasy genres. Let the book take you away to the illusory world of dreams.

      The Spindle of Fate. Defeating the Dark

      Outside, at what seems like just a stone’s throw away, darkness was gathering. Here, almost on the fringe of human settlements, the rays of the sun were unable to diffuse the darkness which was victoriously advancing. It overwhelmed the sparse little trees, the rocky slopes covered with thin grass, and the spongy bogs. Like a painter or sculptor, the dark, coming up in waves onto this disconsolate landscape was altering all of creation. A boulder covered with blue moss became a bush with big red berries, a gully turned into a meadow, and trees kept coming out of darkness and disappearing again.

      In the dark haziness one could see patches that were more or less light. At times they overlapped, intersected, overwhelmed, and interfered with each other as if playing cat-and-mouse. Sometimes the patches would fuse, forming crazy masterpieces, as if born of insane brains, or they would suddenly harmonize into rather rational pictures. However, all these metamorphoses lasted only for short moments. And once again the darkness would reach out its tentacles to chaotically touch this queer world.

      The Priestess of Flame turned away from the window and tried to concentrate on a conjuration. However, one thought kept reeling in her head: «Perhaps, I am next». Three votaresses of Flame had already disappeared without a trace, and most likely it would not be it. The girl couldn’t sleep in spite of the late hour. Turning her gaze to an hour-glass, she sleepily noticed that the grains were slowing their lazy falling and were dropping resonantly. Slower and slower, until one of them, the last one, was hanging, failing to make it to the bottom. A long echo faded in the quietness.

      She felt somebody’s presence, shivered and turned round. At the threshold of her rooms darkness was falling. No, it was not the darkness, but a man in a dark cloak with the hood pulled low over his eyes. Might he be a pilgrim, or perhaps a wanderer? Or could he be one who searches for knowledge and wishes to learn? It was already late; how did he get here? The guards should not have let him in. If there is a sancta sanctorum on Earth, this place should be it. Two steps away, up on the roof, the Sacred Flame burns, its magic light shining down on the world.

      While she was brooding, two pitch-black clots formed around the night guest’s silhouette. It was both scary and unfathomable. How could the dark have gotten into the heart of the Tower of Light? The unicycles of darkness were transformed into sinister-looking monsters and started approaching her slowly. The stranger’s fleshy lips shivered into a grin. The girl tried to stand up and run away, but was unable to, no matter how hard she tried. She tried to absorb the light coming out of the glowing pillar in the middle of the room, but, alas, could not. Barely conscious of her own body, with a final, desperate effort, she got up on her feet, then fell down on the rug and… regained consciousness, awakened by her own scream.

      Oh! It was only a dream… But, Oh, Lord of Light, this nightmare seemed so real! The fatigue gained during the day was the cause. And the troubling situation with her sisters’ disappearance… The whole of The Circle is baffled. We have to do something, but they are so weak. Her thoughts circled crazily in her mind and amassed into one tight bundle.

      A gust of icy wind cooled down the feverish body of the young sorcerer. Her transparent clothes exposed, rather than covered, her white body. Whipping around, she saw the silhouette from her recent nightmare. He was here! This is no dream! She wanted to defend herself with a guarding gesture but her hands wouldn’t obey her. As the stranger stretched out his dark palms towards her and began coming nearer, she realized in horror that she could not even scream.