A strange, radiant star crossed the night sky and crashed into the side of a nearby cliff. A Golden-scarlet glow illuminated everything for a moment.
It was visible as dozens of large pointed blocks were thrown into the air from a strong blow. Rock dust rose, and the rock, which in the dimness of the night looked like a black, solid mass, changed its shape. A large crater formed on its side.
Chunks of the stone monolith fell down the slope, Bouncing, hitting each other and splitting into small fragments. Then came the low rumble of the impact. The ground around them trembled.
The boy Hadi, who had watched the fall in surprise, clung to the sharpened logs to keep his balance. Just a moment ago, his attention was drawn to this unusual star that was falling from the heavens to the earth. Hadi had seen shooting stars before, but this was the first time he had ever seen one so large and so close.
It seemed to the boy that the star was alive. Its center pulsed with a bright silver light and a dozen pointed rays with shining edges protruded from it. As it fell, it left a pale yellow-purple trail behind it, which quickly faded as soon as it hit the rock.
Hadi gasped and shook his head. There will be something to tell your friends tomorrow. They'll be surprised! And even envy him for sure. The boy smiled, imagining how everyone would gape at his story in the morning.
The night guard was coming to an end and morning was already very close. And there's a new day. And new labors and cares and amusements, which are not so much in his native village in the valley of Sunset rocks. But for the time being, all of Hadi's relatives were asleep, except for him and two other boys who guarded the village from far away on other sides.
The silence of the night and the hundreds of stars twinkling in the black sky were mesmerizing. The boy leaned on a pole that served as a fence on the protective wall of the village, on which he stood and, throwing back his head, tried to find his favorite Ushas among them. Therefore, he was a little surprised when the air next to him was filled with the hiss of dozens of hot lights flying as if from the sky.
One of the burning arrows flew very close to Hadi's head. It passed with the hum of a great wild bee and sent a wave of searing heat over the boy's face. His long hair hissed and his nose smelled burning.
As they fell, the arrows struck the ground and the roofs of the large round yurts where his relatives slept. Hadi shouted with all his might. Many of his relatives were out of their sleep and trying to put out the fire that was eating their cozy homes with a crash. It was as bright as day and the air was covered with blue smoke.
- Fire! Carcasses! excited shouts rang out over the village. But the fire was rapidly gaining strength and devouring everything in its path.
From the direction of the entrance gate came the booming and powerful sounds of blows. Outside, someone was breaking them down, furiously dealing heavy damage over and over again. The sturdy logs were cracked and splintered. Soon they broke down and fell to the ground with a thud. Savage warriors, armed with curved, dull-glittering scimitars, were rushing into the village through the open doorway, whistling and shouting.
Hadi's relatives, half-naked, clutching spears and swords, ran to meet the enemy and entered the frenzied felling. The night's silence was replaced by screeching, clanging metal, and angry shouts.
Hadi watched from the height of the wall as his friend Martan pulled his sister Anhra out of his flaming Yurt by the hand and dragged her away from the fiercely fighting warriors. The fire, meanwhile, rose to the heavens. The air was filled with the many-voiced screams of women trying to extinguish the raging flames and the war cries of men.
Hadi was down the stairs in a flash, taking a deep breath, and running, shouting, to the gate where his father and brothers were fighting furiously. As he walked, he took out a dagger to help his family and cover their backs.
Meanwhile, Martan, Hadi's one-year-old, tightly clutching the little hand of his sister, continued to drag her, restless and sleepy, to the outskirts of the village.
"Let Go, Martan!" Where's mom? the girl whimpered and looked around in fright, big tears streaming down her cheeks. His black hair, disheveled from sleep, glowed like the glow of a fire.
"Run, Anhra, run!" Mommy will be right back! the boy repeated quickly, without stopping. They found themselves at the security wall, where the local boys had a secret hole hidden, and Martan forced his sister into it, and then dived into the dark hole himself.
It was dark and cool outside. Children, smeared with soot and dirt, looked around in fear and waited for their eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn gloom after the bright fire. From beyond the wall came the terrible roar and crackle of wood being consumed by fire, the clash of blades, the angry screams and cries of women, but the human voices were becoming less and less. - Bacha! Dokhtarak! a tall, dark-faced warrior shouted angrily as he climbed the guard wall and saw the children below. In his right hand he held a scimitar, the blade of which was covered with a dark liquid.
— Come On, Angra! Martan pulled his sister by the hand again, toward a low rock that was very close by. The girl, not resisting, and smearing tears on her dirty cheeks, trotted after him, almost getting tangled in the hem of a long, coarse, linen shirt that reached almost to the ground. Her long black hair swirled in the cool wind.
The siblings ran along the gentle slope of a hill covered with dried grass, often skirting boulders and boulders everywhere. They could hear the sound of horses ' hooves behind them. Looking back, Martan saw two riders galloping after them. His chest felt cold, but he gripped his sister's hand even tighter and ran as fast as he could toward the darkening bulk of the cliff, hoping to hide there.
The edge of the sky to the right of the children turned red with the dawn rays, illuminating the light-beige mounds of large boulders, which became more and more near the highest rock in the area. Suddenly seeing a small crevice under one of the boulders, the boy instantly made up his mind and turned towards it.
Martan pushed the whimpering little sister into the black gloom and dived in after her. There he put his hand over her mouth and shushed her. The horse's footsteps came closer and seemed like thunder from the sky, but Martan's heart was pounding even louder, and the boy tried to breathe more steadily to calm him.
The two horses abruptly slowed down, and two strange warriors leaped from their wolf-skinned backs. - Bacha! — plaintive shouted one of the soldiers who are relatives of Martin called anayami. - Harob!
Martan tried not to breathe. The angry dark warriors were not far away, and the children could see them clearly. They were dressed in dirty trousers, soft short boots, and thick leather shirts. Both had curved scimitars.
Anarie was slowly approaching the rock, under which hid the children on the move looking around. - Bacha! one of the warriors called again and again, coming closer.
Martan saw the huge black eyes of his little sister looking in amazement at his brother, then at the unknown warriors, and continued to press his right hand firmly to her lips. He put his left arm around the girl and pulled her to him.
Notes:
how do you like the introduction?
I welcome criticism in any form, please indicate all the shortcomings of my work.
Misha Shuklin