© Sergey Solovyov, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0069-5912-5

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

PROLOGUE

It was a long, long time before sunset. And the sun, only occasionally peeked out of such scary-looking crimson clouds, as if painted with heavenly fire. The whole earth seemed to blush because of this. Grass, trees, a huge earthen rampart of an ancient city, everything turned into a heavy and terrible color of blood.

And last night it was even worse, then the magician looked at heaven, and just gasped. A tailed star rolled across the sky. Hard news for people, and there was neither good nor peace. The gods gave a sign, but the magi could not recognize, for thin or good, how many bones he did not throw, they did not answer, did not want to speak, to reveal the will of the gods. The magician was silent, without raising his eyes to ordinary people, he did not know to say this, to find the right words, to encourage, to calm down fear.

I also went to the healer, the seer. A strong herbalist was their Elena Belaya or Beautiful, as she was called here, a found girl. In a good hour, she came to the childless Horu da Zaya, to her husband and wife, and began to take care of them herself. True, everyone was surprised at her face, as if sculpted from snow. Skin, whiter than white. But the girl was always kind, attentive, did not do bad to anyone, did not say bad words. The beauty was extraordinary, but no one sent matchmakers, and matchmakers did not enter that house, as if they knew what was secret. And she, read, could drive away any ailment. And the giants forgot the old news about the evil ignorant giants, with faces white as snow. Those who were unbearable in battle and did not know the fear of death, for they lived forever.

He asked, although he was afraid, of Elena, but then her icy eyes flashed, and she muttered something mysterious:

“Everything will change… Maybe I’ll find my brother… Know, and I’ll have to leave soon…”

Then Rist was frightened from such words that he heard, grabbed the White Swan by the sleeves, spoke himself:

“So what are you missing from us? We will put Terem twice as high. of that. Take all my gold and jade, no pity! Just don’t leave us with your grace!”

“I will not leave you magi, do not be sad… Now go to the magicians and elders of the city. Everything will be fine, I will help you to get rid of any trouble!”

It became easier from these words to the magi. And he looked at the bad omens in the sky, and was almost calm. There was no such thing that Elena the Beautiful was wrong! But, sitting and waiting is always dreary. And then, after all, she did not promise that everything would be fine, but only a misfortune to be lost. So, it was necessary to prepare for the bad… He fidgeted on the seat, not even helped by a soft hare fur pillow.

– Can’t you see who? cried the Magi in impatience.

“No, our rati are not coming,” Elder Lin answered with concern.

“And they should have returned,” said the elder from Ouma, wise Okat, quietly.

The large, simply huge city of Oum, on the banks of the great Ob River, above all the surrounding hills. Here, on rich lands, in Mother Siberia, and in the middle of the entire Russian Land, where the steppes had already begun, but the forests did not deprive people of their protection, three generations ago they erected this mighty fortress. A high steep shaft, poured on top of a wall assembled from log cabins of huge trees, grew to the top by as much as ten fathoms. Outside, the defense was a deep and wide moat, three fathoms deep, eight wide. Inside the shaft, dwellings for people were arranged, like honeycombs by bees. They looked only inside the fortress, into the courtyard. There were wells and sheds full of grain, even workshops for craftsmen-copper workers. But people, until danger threatened, lived around the fortress, freely wide, in their estates. They grazed cattle, planted rye, wheat and barley, looked after extensive apple orchards. The generous Ob richly endowed with fish, and well-arranged marinas stood nearby, where steep-sided boats and nimble shitiks awaited merchants and fishermen.

Here, in front of the huge rampart of Oum, on carved benches, sat the elders and magicians of the largest city of the giants. Behind each stood their unots, and even the youths who saw little of what were in great anxiety. Already with a week since the united army of Sargat and Oum left in the steppe, but there was no more news, as if they had failed in Tartarara. Sometimes Rist thought, why did the king not wait for help from Warta and Gandvik? Hoping for your own crowd? Did you want to get all the glory yourself? And then, he raised a army of three thousand soldiers, a great strength, unprecedented, no doubt…

– Here, drink kvass, – the magician Rist suggested to the elder who was sitting next to him, – Sakat, take all the husbands you have! – said the magician to his unot, – and you, Zhivko, give gingerbread! Yes, live, what are you sleeping on the go!

The young man nodded decorously, and taking the enda in his hands, walked past the benches. Nearby he went and helped him, quite a boy, Lit, and filled the bowls of the audience with a small bucket. Zhivko distributed sweets. And then, good rye gingerbread on honey, and there is nothing tastier! And, happy, thinking men, it seems, left their tuga-sadness.

Sensible were unots, could not get enough of them magi. Yes, and dressed smartly, in embroidered linen shirts, pants, soft shoes with windings. Heads from the wind were covered with felt hats, with nasatals, and blades that could cover the neck. So it is understandable, and both, according to custom, wore children’s hairstyles. They left several strands of hair braided in pigtails on their heads. And these braids hung on the backs of teenagers. And as I enter the age, up to eighteen years, this hair will also be cut off, leaving only a lock on the back of my head. It is worn by all gants, according to the custom of their ancestors.

Drank drinks Rist from his ladle, enjoyed the taste of currant kvass, which was put personally by his daughter Ilsa. And then, one of his joy remained when the Likhomanka took his wife and two sons. It happened four years before Elena came to them on the Ob and drove away the disease. True, a new attack came to their lands, which had not been expected for a long time… Again, strangers began to disturb them with raids, but small clothes were beaten by Siberian soldiers. True, a large army from the steppe came here, and the tsar himself raised the entire Siberian force against them.

But, other people were calm. The White King Dutun himself was now leading a huge army, and with him were the mighty Uli, the invincible Plist, and Fokey. Both the governors Sargata Salim and Tark and the governors Ouma Kintal and Gord. But the magi doubted. Will everything come out as wanted? Will they win? The seer’s words gave rise to fear in his heart.

– Here, it seems, dust rose above the road… – one of the elders whispered uncertainly, – someone jumps, goes on horseback…

– That’s right, Timai, – praised Elder Rist, – there is no one in Sargat, as sharp eyes as you!

“Salim is how good and smart I am,” the elder boasted of his son, “he grew up smarter than his father. That’s right, our rati are going back. And this, a messenger with good news!

Yes, I have seen Salima Rist more than once. And, for sure, the sensible was the leader and warrior, who more than once led the rati Sargat into battle against strangers. At least on dry, at least on foot, or in a leather boat – everywhere the young warrior achieved victory!

But, a warrior on a dry, there was only one. Nobody followed him. The carts did not dust, the severe infantrymen did not get away with the rolled road. And this man looked… Bad. It was evident that he was not happy to go to the hail on the hill. Black was the messenger’s brow. Ash covered his face, and the bad news was ahead of him. The warrior dismounted, bowed on four sides, and pulled the hat from his head. The elders and magi jumped up from their seats, surrounded the messenger in a semicircle, fearing that they would miss at least one word. They waited for what they would say, although everyone felt with their hearts what the answer would be. The faces of the Vyatsha people stretched out, even strong fingers on the staffs shrank… Heavy, ringing, silence stood on the hill, people seemed not to breathe.

– The whole army died! – shouted the sinister, jumping off his plow, – those who stayed are coming here to lock themselves behind the rampart! Another messenger went down the river, to Gandvik, there to ask for troops!

– And the Sargat army and those who came from Oum? – asked the Magi Rist, – the army also fell? And the warriors from Oum? Royal squad?

Could the seer believe that their warriors could not resist! They gave themselves to beat! He leaned on the carved staff, looked at the messenger, moved his bushy eyebrows. I looked, thinking that the malevolent was lying…

– The Sargat leaders Salim and Tark, and the leaders from Oum, Kintal and Gord fell. They did not catch up, but no one retreated. Before my death, the king sent me to Oum so that I could convey such news.

– And the White King? Rist asked hopefully.

– The royal banner fell. This means that Duptun and his close squad also died. All thirty knights fell on the battlefield. Many enemies were cut down, but ten enemies stood up for each of us. Such trouble came to us! And I had to return, – the warrior whispered.

And he, saying everything, suddenly grabbed his dagger, and at once pierced his heart. A minute later, the warrior lay dead in front of the captured people of the giants. Now for sure, the entire royal army died, every single one. No one expected this.

He looked back at the elders of Sargat the Magi of Oum. It was evident that the people of the second city of their kingdom simply lost themselves. But, he noticed how Timai’s eyes flashed, how he whispered that cunning words to Hian. And Rist remembered the second Sargatsky elder for a long time, as he wove intrigues against King Duptun, wanting to put Zia Bear on the White Throne… And Zia is now in Gandwick! Could start, oh and could…

Rist sighed heavily, and covered his face, decorated with a gray beard, palm. There was no strength to see this day, nor to hear other people. It was bad, so much so that it never happened worse…