Book-1 Tir novella. V. Speys
ended, Tir did not remember. By the fact
it returned the cold. He fueled the pitiful remnants of the forces that made awaken consciousness. Tir got outside. He was shaking from the cold. Reigned around the darkness of the night, only stars twinkle in the sky, always inviting, giving hope. Looking at the North Star, Tir moved on. His journey is endless agonizing climbs on loose and rolling down the slopes. When the moon is sharp horn of the village on the horizon, the edge of the sky at East erupted. The stars that twinkled merrily, suddenly faded, and have gathered off the night sky. Suddenly he heard a woman crying is far from clear, as if someone desperately shouting or calling for help. His heart beat in his chest. Tir, gathered his strength, rushed to where the voice was coming. He overcame three small sand dune. At the top of the fourth, he again opened vast panorama of the desert. And there, in the distance, judging by the stars, in the south-west, over the horizon, could see a bunch of green vegetation. The voice seemed to came from different directions, and the sound was clearer now there. But with the first pink colors of the dawn, the voice disappeared into space, disappeared. Dawn grow stronger and already the sun slowly rose over the horizon. In the pale gloom gave melted wavy strip of greenery, to which his gaze, as their last hope of life. Tir strode forward. Legs almost did not obey; the brain molten lead broke the skull. Collecting the last of his strength, Tir was moving forward. The reality was a little ghostly. On knew that already trudged through the dead are nameless city, a voice that sounded feminine cry, belonged to a jackal pack, follow in his footsteps. Tir stubbornly trudging to their landmark that now loomed two very tall palm trees with green ball fruits that grow on the very top. Near the foot of one of them ran merry brook that formed a small puddle or a small lake. With little lake water evaporates so quickly that trickle barely had time to fill it. Tir fell right in the middle of a cool little lake, he drank greedily
Shake a little salt water, feeling the moisture poured on the hot body. As if in a dream, he drank and drank, unable to quench their thirst. Belly swelled. Tir finally got on dry sand. Its sick. But that was almost a dream. Exhausted, he forgot himself under the shade of palm crowns saving…
East, like the cool palm, the breeze gently touched whiskey sleeping in the shade of palm trees at the little lake. Then angrily threw a handful of hot sand in the screwed-up eyes gray animal, pursues all over the man, and flew far, far away in the heavenly blue, where you can escape the heat and enjoy the domed minaret there a deserted city, sing in the towers, announcing the arrival of the evening chill lonely walls as he did many centuries ago, when the city lived and the streets were filled with colorful clothes of men and women, screaming kids and pets. Wind been waiting for the return of the people. Waited and when tired returned from a long trip and was unable to find the city, and only one tower pointed to the fact that the city was buried under a thick layer of sand, a long-time enemy of the west wind. Since then, the East wind Unnamed not leave town. He ceased to mourn the people buried in the streets. He roared furiously, throwing bales of sand directly hating the West in the face of wind. This went on day and at night as long as the streets of the city do not rise before a mighty punch in its pristine glory. But strangely, the people were gone, only the white bones of men so frightened gaping eye sockets of the skull, which here and there, lying across his path. Wind living searched everywhere. Flew through the window frames in the wine cellar, where rows and rows of huge barrels of unfinished wine. He knew that the wine is there, because even on the tables were full of mugs. He knew that the surviving people come back and will finish wine. He peered into a luxurious palace, where the pools still not so long ago was splashing the water clear, and now lay sand and again trying to convince himself that the people will return here to clear pools, fountains start, grow flowers. But the days passed after day, were the years of the century. Crack walls of the city, a beautiful mosaic domes, like fish scales, flew down. Wind angry at people for what they did not return to collect and bury the remains of the brothers and the city once again give life to his presence. He cursed them and wanted to get even more to one of them. He certainly would punish him for such a folly – throw city gray jackals, these vile creatures that feed on carrion. Once anger at people become intolerable. Wind attacked the palm trees. He frantically tore their leaves, fruits, and was still only when he saw the sand broken one of them. He very grieved over it. Palma will never rose above desert. And then, finally, man. Oh, he’s out and the East Wind, to give it all to open the door to the secret treasure of the dead city, make man the lord of the palaces. Tir opened his eyes. High above the broad leaves rustled two palm trees, broken trunk, a third lying on the hot sand to the crown lakes. The evening sun rays stretched copper on trees which now resembled bronze column. Lakeland, which saved Tir from thirst, as if burned in the sunlight, throwing handfuls of gold coins, rabbits feet, pathetic grass that grew just something where there near the little lake. Pleasant coolness poured on the tortured body, returning to the reality of Tir. He looked up, then sat down and looked around. Unfamiliar place seemed ghostly vision. He rubbed his eyes. No, it’s not a mirage. The water here, there, then life. A wave of joy eyes watered. Tir fell to the ground. Hot tears rolled down doling Dirty cheeks. Tir gradually calmed down. Memory painted dark day’s journey. For a moment it seemed that it was a dream, a vision of the desert and the unbearable heat. He remembered everything that happened to him. Seven days without food and water under a withering sun of the desert – no, it cannot be repeated. Do not want even think about the continuation of the way. Though little lake water and gave him drink. But hunger was left. He saw in the sand a few round, the size of a human head, the fruit. Hardly picked up one, exhausted hands. He wanted to smash a coconut hit one of the other, but the venture failed. Only overpower even more, he collapsed with a nut in his hand in the shadow of palm trees on the soft sand. Catching his breath, Tir, as in a dream staggered slowly to his feet. View opened half filled with sand wall of a guard tower towering gate. Even now, the wall was still high. Tyr went to the gate closes baggy folds into the city. He, though not explicitly, still remembered that there was to the healing spring across the city through the open gate. And someone closed the door behind him, and maybe it made the wind?
– Hey-ho! Is there anyone? – Shouted Tir.
– Who-who-who? – Echoed through the city. Tir’s listened. Dead silence reigned there. Fear, like ants crawling on a swarm the back. As if someone’s gaze followed him. An unpleasant chills ran through his body. Tir involuntarily looked up. No one was not in a narrow loophole the Watchtower: “Probably, there in the darkness of the shadow sits this savage!.”, He thought.
Tir still moved forward. Comforting thought that if someone he wanted to find something that someone would already have done it. Cheered up these thoughts, he forcefully pushed the gate leaf. Bloodcurdling screech broke the silence. He saw a narrow street, in the middle of which could be seen distinctly human footprints. He is excited with joy looking at them, afraid of only one, and suddenly it a mirage? But the sigh of disappointment escaped from the emaciated chest, it’s his own trail! West Wind “sarcastically observes” pathetic, leather-wrapped human a skeleton, suddenly come to life in a ghost town. Stealthily, so as not to wake his longtime opponent of the Eastern wind, so the people who loved and defended, Western, when a man was lying senseless in the shade of palm trees, closed the gate leaf. Tir moved along the ruins. The sun almost touching
horizon, casting the surviving walls of the long shadows on the street. Need to find a home somewhere to gather strength. As I was struck by the surviving structure of a rectangular shape with a flat roof. Tir went there. He crossed the area, which ended in the street. Evening cool is eager body, but from the ruins of clay, both on the stove has cooled down, still smacked of heat. Black hole entrance wafted “mold” the dungeon. Tir the stone steps down to a spacious hall. Twilight of the indoor space of the room made it difficult to discern. Gradually his eyes adapted and Tir was able to see a short, round tables, covered with decayed rags, cups on the tables. Tir curiously approached. Bronze bowl with a thread made with great skill, were filled with sand. He took one and held it up for a better look over to the window, carving on bronze striking beauty. Last glare of the setting sun still penetrated the city and the remnants of light fell into the square hole of the window illuminating the gloom Zaal. On the table,