Oksana looked at him with sidelong glance, glad that he was eating and drinking. When he had appeased his first hunger, she began again to inquire, “Then you are not direct from Orsha?”
“Scarcely do I know whence I come, —here today, tomorrow, in another place. I prowled near the enemy as a wolf around sheep, and what was possible to seize I seized.”
“And how had you daring to meet such a power, before which the grand hetman himself had to yield?”
“How had I daring? I am ready for all things; such is the nature within me.”
“That is what my grandfather said. Great luck that you were not killed!”
“Aye, they covered me with cap and with hand as a bird is covered on the nest; but I, whom they covered, sprang out and bit them in another place. I made it so bitter for them that there is a price on my head— A splendid half-goose!”
“In the name of the Father and the Son!” cried Oksana, with unfeigned wonder, gazing with homage on that young ma
Oksana withdrew, and Sir Jargan went to the porch. But on the way, through the slightly open door of the servants' hall he saw a number of pairs of eyes of maidens who waiting to see him once more had not yet lain down to sleep. To them Sir Alexander sent, soldier-fashion, kisses from his mouth with his hand, and went out. After a while the bell began to jingle, at first loudly, then with a continually decreasing sound, ever fainter and fainter, till at last it was silent. It grew still in Vodokty, till the stillness amazed Lady Oksana. The words of Sir Alexander were sounding in her ears; she heard his laughter yet, heartfelt, joyous; in her eyes stood the rich form of the young man; and now after that storm of words, mirth, and joyousness, such marvelous silence succeeded. The lady bent her ear, —could she not hear even one sound more from the sleigh? But no! It was sounding somewhere off in the forest, near Volmontovis. Therefore a mighty sadness seized the maiden, and ne
The gigantic Kulvit-Hippocentaurus stared fixedly for some time at Eanitski; at last he waved his hand and said: “You 're a fool! Strike your best, but still you can't hold your own before Jargan with a saber.” “For no one can stand before him; but try yourself.” “You will not win against me with a pistol.” “For a ducat a shot.” “A ducat! But where and at what?” Eanitski cast his eyes around; at last he cried out, pointing at the skulls, “Between the antlers, for a ducat!” “For what?” asked Jargan. “Between the antlers for two ducats, for three! Bring the pistols!” “Agreed!” cried Jargan. “Let it be three. Zend, get the pistols!” All began to shout louder and louder, and bargain among themselves; meanwhile Zend went to the antechamber, and soon returned with pistols, a pouch of bullets, and a horn with powder. Eanitski grasped for a pistol. “Is it loaded?” asked he. “Loaded.” “For three,
I InLyubis, Lord Agwen Jargan woke that day early, too early. He rose from his bed, looked through the window. His squad waited for him. He searched for his clothes, saber and pistol. Today was a big day; he didn't want to spoil it. He walked down the room, turning on his heal near the end and up again, several times over. He walked, turned, walked, turned and over again. There was little, he could do in the winter months, which the elves called the dead months. Eva constantly appeared in his thoughts. No matter, how hard he tried, there was no way of shaking her off. He turned. His eyes looked at the large table that was placed for him; he didn't even take a bite. She was constantly there. He walked towards the fireplace, watching as the wood burned. Somebody knocked at the front door of the cabin. He waited. Somebody knocked again. "Enter,"he said, after a break. The long haired, bearded Targar entered, he knelt in front
A lonely man walked down the path, a path that many warriors try to avoid. There was no other option; he must do it. The neighbors asked him for help. He couldn't turn them down; he didn't want to. At least the street is empty. A lot of things went through his mind. There were only two options, to win or to die, there is no middle ground. A unusual, cold May day, there was nothing else to it. He had a couple of minutes before the ghosts appear. Minutes, he always spent in silence before a fight. To him, it didn't matter, who the opponent was, monster or human.A deep breath, a controlled heartbeat and controlled emotions were his keys to success. They have never let him down. His sixth sense activated, he turned his head, and there was nothing behind him. That was strange, his sixth sense was always right. A figure moved behind him.He swiftly turned, in front of him, there stood a small child. Its eyes were black as the night. The eyes looked directly into his soul, t
IThe whole room was dark, there was no light. The darkness was everywhere, the knight turned, he couldn't see anything. Just a moment ago, he saw the warmth of the candle. Where could it disappear? No one entered the room. He was alone. The only thing, he could do, was to exit the room; an easy task with a light. His hand touched the wall; he was shocked, there was a window. It was on the opposite side of the room. He remembered that the window was behind him. Why, there is no light? He walked to the table, searching for his sword. The sword, he left last night, was still there.Doors behind him opened. A ray of light illuminated the room; terrible shadows danced on the celling and on the walls. Their faces were dark as night, pointed white teeth snapped at him. One of them jumped on the knight; his claws were ready. The knight parried. He slashed the shadow. The fiend was no more. Where the fiend landed, a pile black mass could be seen. The shadows m
IThe werewolf moved his hairy head from the comfort of his vast and dry den. He reluctantly exits; his wife was more than keen to get him out, what else could he do? The rolling pin, which she held in her hand, was large as a normal man's hand. He didn't want to taste her wrath, again, so, he left. The last time was much different, the rolling pin flashed for a second, he fell like a sack. A group of dancing angles looked at him and laughed. She was a force to be feared. Silently he left the den, walked until she couldn't see him and started a cheerful song: "Over seven streams,Over seven streams,Over seven hills,Over seven hills,I'll go,I'll go,A monster to slay,A monster to slay,His yellow eyes I'll see,I'll see,For you my d
IThey parted before the first rays of dawn; it was a cold and chilly morning that brought a new hope to this grim and colorless world. Albinstood on the top of Hill, as it was called, but it was more a burial mound than a hill, but none the less it was tall as a hill. The people had long forgotten who was buried here, so it was named Hill, maybe, because of the noble Hill family that ruled these lands since the age of the Burrow Kings. It was a custom for these placed to be called after the noble families that ruled the region, better than the names that are forgotten in merciless winds of time. And, so, thanks to that the custom survived to this day. Maybe, for an outsider it would be strange, but not for the local inhabitants of this wild and unexplored place.The top of mound was covered in moss, so old that it changed color. The large, massive stones are still visible under the vegetation. He moved closer. The arched stone-way still stood in
PREPARATION I The ageless river-king appeared from the deeps of the murky river that snaked its way through the sheer mountain side. His bright green skin illuminated everything with a palette of green tones. He stood tall, proud and fierce as the tallest mountain, which dominated the countryside. His dark green eyes were cold as ice; his damped bear covered most of his large scaly body, unwashed rows of matted hair fell almost to his waist. Although he was strong, his footsteps were light and almost silent, too silent. He moved with a dose of gracefulness that couldn't be seen in the other river-kings. Fires and thunders, appearing from staff, shook the countryside. Fierce he was in his anger. Something deep inside of him, told him that things were about to change drastically for better or worse he didn't know. There was no way of knowing. II In Spikehorn,