Читать книгу The Path of Li - Magomet Timov - Страница 2

The Sunset was hanging above the forest ranges of the Tai Hushan mountains with its last rays. And at the same moment, darkness was approaching from East. Shadows of night arrive quickly in highlands. And you can feel a whole scenery quiets down before the last ray of the sun disappears. Nights in the mountains are by no means a time of serene peace, no matter how hard the monotonous sounds of a nearby waterfall try to lull a casual traveller. During this time, spirits and animals take over the land. And perhaps with some o the creatures from a spirit world, you could find common ground, but never with the ruler of wilderness – Great Chinese Tiger. Tiger will never give up on his prey, whether it be a stray traveller or an antelope that has become separated from the flock. He walked along a mountain path, graceful and irresistible, like the Emperor himself. Beast was only five years old, in the prime of his strength and power.

He strolled around the land, as he was a house cat, with no eager of aggression. His indifference to his surrounding was incredible. In contrast to the cat, the Tiger had recently satisfied his belly with a farmers buffalo that inadvertently approached his possessions in search of food. Everything that happened later was familiar: a quick leap and a grip on the cervical artery. A few swift blows of mighty fangs warranted a well-fed life for at least a couple of days for the predator. And now he was walking through the summer forest, rubbing his glossy sides against the trunks of young trees, leaving flocks of royal fur as marks of his territory. It was his land, and all the creatures have felt his presence. His ears caught the slightest sound of the approaching night. While he majestically strolled around the wilderness, his subtle hearing caught an unusual dissonance in this familiar background, something unfamiliar and therefore alarming. He has gasped momentarily and roared softly into the darkness. He paced himself slowly through his land and was approaching slowly to the unfamiliar scent. He could resemble the scent, and it was human blood. The majestic creature was stung and rose immediately. Humans were around. He knows what it means to encounter humans-creatures who arrive at his land and act as lords. A couple of years ago, one Man left a scar on the Tiger's left side with his Claw when, being young and foolish, he approached the fire of several travellers who were putting up for the night on the mountain pass. Back then, he managed to escape, but he had to lick the wound in a thicket on the nearest plateau for a few weeks.

There was a man lying by the river shore, clutching the wound with his hands, almost invisible under his ropes. The Tiger stood and hung his paw in the air as his eyes focused deadly on the prey. But something was off about this prey. He could sense the smell of a man; it was strong and fearless; his scent wasn't an ordinary men's scent. It made him fear and respect a wounded man. He knew that is another alpha stands in front of him, perhaps not in the best physical shape, but his spirit has stood strong. They have gazed upon each other eyes, and a man has shown no fear. After a few long-lasting seconds, Tiger has roared at the stranger and disappeared into nearby bushes. The warrior exhaled with relief he couldn't understand. Death retreated, although he knew it would not be for long. His days were counted, and he perfectly knew that wounds such as that would lead to death. He could only praise the gods for letting him his last few moments at such a graceful place. He could feel the breath of death on his shoulder, and for the last moment of his existence, he wanted to gaze at the night sky, a sapphire coloured sky. His conscience was slowly slipping from his mind, and his vision was getting blurry. He shut his eyes, and with his last breath, he tried to think about something pleasant. Realising all his life have been filled with deaths, wars and brawls. The warrior shook his head, chasing away the obsession, and tried to capture the vision of sparkling clear mountain water, rushing by in a swift stream like the River of Time. But even this clear liquid was coloured by blood. The warrior sighed and closed his eyes again. After all, he had lived a decent life as a common man, a warrior, a military leader, and even an Emperor! He loved and was loved. The warrior raised the blade above his head, lifting it to heaven, and, closing his eyes, plunged into the crimson waters… The Tiger looked gloomily from the bushes on the opposite bank, watching the Man reach for his Claw and press it to his chest, his lips moving in an effort to utter something. Life was already leaving the tortured body. The Man opened his eyes for the last time to reflect the darkening sky, took a deep breath, stretched out and died… The Tiger shook his forehead, paying an involuntary tribute to the courage of an unknown creature, which did not beg for mercy in his last minutes and slipped into the thicket. The Man who found peace on the shore was the one who had been the hope and horror of the people of the Great Empire for the last decades. Now he went on his last Path beyond the Crimson Rivers.