Читать книгу Trilogy of Dhana and the Earth. Book one. End of the world - Andrey Prudkovskii - Страница 5

First of all, I would like to talk about two people who played a significant role in the subsequent events related to the end of the world. Only a few people on the Earth know about their fate. Firstly this is mother Valya (Valentina Semenovna Kotlovanova). They remembered her as a caring midwife, then as the director of the hospital, but only her daughter Lyuba knew about other activities of hers… Secondly, Raa – Raa the Great, the holy warrior of Dhana, but only his son, Radek, knew about his earthly life… According to my information, Lyuba and Radek are on Dhana now and it is not possible to question them. Only their diaries and letters remained and I also a copy of the sacred Red Book of Dhana fell into my hands, compiled by Rose (Raegele), the daughter of Raa and his wife Siegle.

So, Raa was born on Dhana in a wild forest inhabited by terrible unknown creatures.

From Red Book of Dhana

Raa the Great was born in the Sacred Forest. His father was Han the Sun, and the mother was Dhana the Earth. After birth, the parents gave the child to the fierce sacred ants. And the fierce sacred ants did not tear the baby into small pieces, but carried it to Those – Who – Command – the Ants to raise a Supernal child in the wisdom and the power of the Supernal number four.

As you know, no one can become the Lord of the Ants without being born to them, but the Supernal Raa became him, and the Lord of the Ants Fatidic Siegle, who was then still five years old, swore allegiance to him and became his wife.

From the notes of Radek Reksovich about his father

The hollow tree where Ra was born.

My father Raa was born in a dense forest on the planet of Dhana. Here’s how he told me about his childhood:

Imagine an ordinary dense forest on the planet Dhana. Under the square Sun are huge but square on a cut trees. Under them are bushes, sundews, poisonous cobwebs, swallowing lawns, false pegs and everyone catches their game animal, which crawls, runs, jumps but just does not fly. Only mushrooms fly, scattering their spores. In a huge tree there is a hollow hut, and in it is dad, mom and a child of about five:

“Mom! … Boring!”

“Well, go tease the stump… Take the basket and collect the zingwas. Just do not go into the cobweb – it is poisonous (if anyone does not know, zingwa is a kind of mould on the Ingwas – trees that grow on Dhana).”

“Mom, why is it all the same here? Why is nothing happening?!”

Dad:

“You shouldn’t wishthis, because desires are sometimes fulfilled!”

And my desires, my dear child, were fulfilled with frightening inevitability. I just played with the old stub, and suddenly my father and mother grab me, wrap me in several layers of soft white-tree bark and demand that I be silent and not move.

The rustle of thousands of feet, the stifling smell of acid, the gnashing of jaws clenching me… There is the last mental cry and then the silence. The telepathic connection with parents, which until now has not been interrupted for a moment, has disappeared forever. They carry me, carry me. A day or two or three – into the unknown world.

And now imagine an anthill on the planet of Dhana. It looks like an ordinary earthly, only adjusted for the growth of ants. On Dhana, they are of human height. Of course, around the anthill everything is trampled for a kilometer – not a blade of grass, just dust. Ants rush with soft rustling like cars on our roads. There are people here, each with a small water bottle with formic acid on the belt, which they periodically spray on. All calmly go about their errands. They wash and hang clothes, collect mushrooms and mould, a detachment of hunters riding on ants’ rides to a distant forest, women carry formic milk from below, and young people play with rodent ants. The goal of the game is to beg the ant for what it carries. This is done this way: they take two sticks and in a certain rhythm tap them on the ant whiskers. If everything is done correctly, then the ant will give the carrying.

Little Siegle is five today, the age when the children of the tribe of the Lords of the Ants are solemnly declared adults. She, like everyone else, rushes along the edge of the anthill, trying to intercept one or another rodent ant. One of the ants stumbles upon her and knocks her down. Here you can’t yawn; otherwise they will vividly consider you food. Siegle quickly taps the password “friend” on the ant moustache and a request to give her the white bundle that is clamped in his jaws. The ant relieves its burden with relief and disappears inside the anthill. He needs food and rest after a long expedition. Siegle scarcely drags a heavy bale to her home. What did she get? A real living boy – he is sleeping!

“Take it to the ants. Let it be eaten, anyway we can’t save it!” – The mother says.

“No, he’s mine. I’ll take care of him.”

“The Elder will not let you do this!”

“I will blandish them!”

“The Elder cannot be blandishing. They do everything only according to the Law – according to the Great Law of the Four Truths, about which, my little one, you still do not know anything. But you can speak on the Council yourself, because from today you are already an adult.”

Siegle on the Council

Elder:

“The law says: a stranger who appears near an anthill must be given to ants.”

Siegle:

“My mom said that you decide according to the Law of the Four Truths, but for now you have informed me only one. And what do the other three TRUTIONS say?”

Elder:

“They will not help you. Listen: if a stranger appeared near the anthill through no fault of his and the ants didn’t touch him, then he should be taken to the nearest forest within two days and released. When the same stranger reappears, the basic rule of the Law is applied to him. So tells the second TRUTH.

If a stranger is needed by the tribe and invited by its members, then he is a guest and can remain on the territory of the tribe for 10 days, while a guardian is appointed, who must all the time stay with the Guest all these 10 days. So tells the third TRUTH.

According to the second TRUTH, you can take a stranger to the forest, but it is dangerous because you are small and fail to protect him from a running ant. However, he will also be eaten in the forest.”

Siegle:

“No, it’s not that. And what is the fourth TRUTH?”

Elder:

“This truth does not suit you. Moreover – it is generally impossible!”

Siegle:

“Tell it!”

Elder:

“If a member of the tribe of the Lords of the Ants decided to connect his life with a stranger, becoming his husband or wife, then he is obliged to take full responsibility for the stranger’s behaviour and to prove to the tribe within a year that the stranger can become one of us. Otherwise he becomes a stranger and forever expelled from the tribe together with his ward.”

Siegle:

“That suits me. I will be his wife!”

Elder:

“????????? – Let it be!”

Mother:

“She is only five.”

Elder:

“The law says: at the age of five, the child becomes an adult and is responsible for his decisions. Let it be as she decided! And may you have no other husband besides what you chose! This is what the law says!”

A year had gone by. Siegle and Raa were inseparable. They played, worked and studied together. A year later, the Elders recognized that Raa had no difference in his skills from other children of his age. He was no worse than others in talking to ants with a “stick code”, asking for a drop of sweet food from them or what they carried, did not forget to spray himself with acid, and even once before everyone’s eyes he rode on an ant. So Ra became one of the Lords of Ants.

From the Registry Office of the village No. 573 (Pitvill)

Aleksandra and Maria are twins, born on February 13, 50th year until the end of the world.

Parents: father – Aleksandr Sergeyevich Ryaboy, mother – Lyubov Dmitrievna Ryabaya.

From the records of Sasha’s and Masha’s neighbour – Valentina Semenovna Kotlovanova

Sasha and Masha grew up before my eyes. They are good girls. Sasha loved to say: – I’m not Sasha! I am Aleksandra!

They got a difficult fate. Father drank. At home it was hungry. I often fed them. When they were 10 years old, their father died, and a year later their mother died.

By that time, the girls had matured and coped well with their non-consuming economy. Mostly they ate food from their garden, and some of the villagers helped. They had no money. They wore clothes given by the state, and received it in the school for poor. The girls grew up large, strong, but they didn’t have any admirers, apparently, it was due to their unfortunate surname Ryabaya, therefore, maybe they possessed no outstanding beauty. And the guys were afraid of their heavy hands and a severe look. After the eighth form, Masha became a milkmaid, and Sasha suddenly left for the city.

Explanation of Lyuba, daughter of Valentina Semenovna

I think the history of our village1 and the fate of my mother needs to be told.

The village was inhabited by all the servicemen, who must prepare food, wash clothes, and sew up their pants. But nobody from the village stuck their noses into the pit. There were only some people in uniform, those designated as “secret ones”. Then the pit was either finished or abandoned – in general, no one knows about this. Those in uniform went off somewhere. And where did the convicts go – no one knows. Just before departure, a young soldier came to the village and took out a roll bending from his bosom:

“Here,” he said, “Valentina, she’s an unaccounted girl, she’s not been registered anywhere, so grow her yourself as you want, and let her patronymic be Semenovna, I will share my name with her.”

We were surprised by the kindness and courage of the soldier. After all, the girl was the child of the convicts, but he was not afraid – he carried her and even gave her his own name as patronymic.

That is how my mother grew up as everyone’s favourite; they gave her the surname Kotlovanova. She has been to each house of the village, everywhere she got taught something new. She became Jill of all trades. People even came to her to be healed. As the girl became an adult, she was provided with an abandoned hut; she finished and fixed it. Never got married though – lived all by herself. She repeated: “I am Semenova, I will remain like this.” As if she knew! Once that Semen came back to our village. He drove a black car, with the retinue – he became a great man. They spent the whole day in the foundation pit, behind the barbed wire. I don’t know what happened there, but people heard how loudly Semen shouted. There were rumors that supposedly we are about to be resettled, farther from the secrets! But it went fine. Semen stayed overnight in our house. His retinue located in the tent near our house, they either slept or guarded him. In a year I was born, hence I am Semenovna too. By that time, our neighbor Aleksandra has already been working in the city, and the milkmaid Maria has been bringing me, little girl, milk. Auntie Maria often babysitted with me, when mom left for the city. There she studied at the courses of midwives-nurses. From the city she always brought presents and letters to aunt Maria from her sister Aleksandra. For some reason, the sisters never used mail.

From Aleksandra’s letter to her sister Maria

Dear Maria,

I am doing alright, do not worry! I earn enough; live in a separate apartment…

At first it scared me being here! First things first.

I arrived. There were thousands of people. They were running, hustling. A uniformed galloped up to me, asking:

“Lady, do you need help?”

He took my suitcase and walked on, I followed him. And then I heard somebody screaming:

“Watch your steps! You’ve crushed me!”

I looked under my feet – there was a kiddy about 6 years old.

“I am Petruha-the-ragged-ear” he said and showed me his ragged ear “you can’t step on me!”

Then I looked around, and that one – with my suitcase – vanished into thin air. I ran out to the square. Cars are buzzing… No suitcase, anywhere! No money, no stuff, no books… I’m standing burst out crying in the middle of the square, and people are running, they don’t look around, cars go around me… Nobody cares about me. Then it buzzed, went motorcyclists in black. The police guard shouts:

“Move, move!” – pushing me somewhere, but he couldn’t shift me. I was too heavy… And the buzz was getting closer. A big black car is racing. The guard became wheyfaced, put his hand to his head and froze. And I rooted to the ground. I stood, with my mouth opened. The car stopped, and some small, but, an important person came out of it.

“What is going on?” – he asked. Everyone is silent. Then it hit me:

“I’m from Pitvill. I arrived here, but my suitcase was stolen!”

“Now we will check from what Pitvill. There is no such village! And there wasn’t! Get in the car.”

I sat petrified and we drove. And the car howls and howls, plug your ears, if don’t want to become deaf.

We arrived somewhere. Well, at least my passport remained in my bosom. He took it and says:

“What is Pitvill? Here – in the passport it says that you live in the village number 573, not a word said about Pitvill.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but no one can remember this number 573, everyone says Pitvill, and I said so.”

“Okay,” he said “to hell with Pitvill. Tell me!”

“Tell what?”

“Tell me everything! About your whole life. Come on, look at me!”

And he looked at me so menacingly that something died inside me, and I began to tell him everything. And here is the thing – now I don’t remember anything about it. What did I tell him? What happened next?..

I woke up in the middle of nowhere. It was sort of a hospital. No clothing, no passport, I only had a gown on – white, long, apparently, hospital. I tried the door-handle – it was locked.

A nurse dressed white came in. She washed me, gave breakfast. She did not say a word, perhaps, she was completely deaf. So I lived in this hospital for three days. Finally, someone came: “Get ready, let’s go.”

This nurse quickly dressed me in a public baggy robe. We went out and got into the car. And again I appeared in a room, where I was telling everything. The head came in and said:

“Aleksandra Aleksandrovna, we have checked everything. You will work with us. The salary is good. The work is interesting, important, but secret.

So, to you, sister, I will not write anything about it.

“You will be provided with a separate apartment. And buy a car in a year or so, with your salary you will be able to allow it. You will call me Semen Andreevich. If you have any difficulties, contact my deputy first of all, and if not, then directly me. “Between us,” he said “I am familiar with Pitvill very well. It will be necessary to go there, see what is what. Oh, by the way, here is your suitcase!”

And here I felt gratitude and love for this man, which I can’t describe.

So, since then I’ve been working…

Write me back soon!

Yours, Aleksandra

From the tales of Granddad Plop told to his grandchildren

My dear children, you all live in a beautiful green forest, you are full, dressed, and everyone loves you. And I was born in a terrible wild city where no one loved each other. And sometimes people even killed each other. That’s what a dreadful place I lived in being your age. If you go up that hill and look north, that city will be visible on the horizon in the form of a dirty black spot. Savage people live there now. And now there is poisoned soil and air. So you kids never go there. In my childhood, a thousand times more people lived in the city than now. And then my name was Petruha-the-ragged-ear because, as you can see, one ear really is all ragged. I lived at the station and at the market, and ate what I managed to steal. You, children, must not steal, as doing this is not good. But in the wild city where I was born, without theft I simply could not feed myself, as I was still a little boy and couldn’t work. You might ask why not I ate grass or bark of trees. I will answer: back then people still did not know how to eat only grass. And now those in the city do not know how to do this. And my wife, my sorceress Rose, taught us to eat grass. But in the city this would not help either. There was little grass there.

So, consequently, I stole at the station and the market. Once the traders caught me, beat me up, and dragged me by the ear. Since then I became – a ragged ear boy. And soon something happened that changed my whole further life. Back then I stole in league with the swindler Black eye. His name was because he actually had a black eye. Apparently he was once punched in such a way that it remained with him for life. He was a neat and polite swindler. He was never rude with anyone and took things from people in thirty three ways, but always very politely and without the slightest disrespect. Once we were standing at the train station, looking at the crowd of arrivers, and there she was – a lady! Well, a thief’s dream to be honest! Big, charmless, with extremely naive eyes, dumbly blinking.

Black eye said:

“Come on!”

And I was still gazing at the lady. And it’s not that I felt sorry for her, but rather felt myself uncomfortable. That, as my wife Rose says, your foresight stirred.

Meanwhile, Black eye approached the lady and took her suitcase. Then I did my part. I rolled under the lady’s feet and point on my ear. While she peered with her daylights at my ear, Black eye pinched the suitcase in the backstreet. You might ask what do on Earth “daylights’ and “pinched’ mean. Children, that’s what we called eyes, and pinched stands for stole. There my role ended, I would have to run to Black eye to share the booty, but I did not run – I stood still, I observed what the lady is about to do next. But she did nothing. I ran out to the square where the cars were, standing crying. Cars buzz – they drove around her, but she did not understand. I kept on the watch: what would happen next? Maybe the police guard would take her somewhere. I waited till not the police guard took it, but the black car. And this was just even worse. We have already had legends about this car. If a thief saw it, he did not remain at large for long. Some kind of mysticism.

I said to Black eye:

“That’s it, we got into muddle!”

And he told him everything as it was. Black eye turned pale with fright, he immediately got on the train and got away in an unknown direction. Even the suitcase he left to me. But I didn’t leave, because I was little, and I didn’t steal. But still, they sent me to a military school for difficult kids two days later. What they taught me there is nothing good. They taught me how to kill people. I have been studying there for eight years, and then I was sent to Marazia to defend our country from Marazian savages. You have asked about the barbarians of Marazia – no, they were no more barbarians than the inhabitants of my hometown. Although, of course, they were very different in appearance. Their skin was darker, they had black hair and brown eyes. They lived not in stone houses, but in adobe houses or even in tents or caves. But they were not savages. It was simply their custom to fight us, and ours was to fight them. But I will tell you later of what happened to me in Marazia.