Nick Perumov “Hunters. Prophecies of Destruction. Prologue IWings blacker than the sky Nick Perumov hunters prophecies of destruction

In one of the worlds of the Ordered One, where the path once led even the battle mage Clara Hummel, there lived people, elves, gnomes, halflings and other races; Vampires, the real ones, also lived there. They sucked blood, turned victims into new ghouls, killed, and where there is such evil, those who oppose it will certainly appear.

Oddly enough, these turned out to be mere mortals, hunters, catchers, and not at all sorcerers sophisticated in the magical arts.

An old vampire hunter, a master, and his young apprentice are on the trail of a ghoul who took the life of the daughter of Prince Predslav. Taking on a vampire is a difficult matter, they are much stronger and faster than any human; one has to rely on cunning, complex traps, traps and alchemical potions that are brewed by the master’s good friend, Master Bonaventure.

After a long chase, the master and student overtook the bloodsucker in the old elven ruins, but it turned out that the vampire was in a hurry for a reason, but to meet with a certain sorcerer, with whom he performed a ritual to summon a real demon, and the wizard and the ghoul seemed to be helping each other at the same time each other, and learned from each other.

In a short fight, the ghoul - who turned out to be a striga - was severely crippled, but managed to catch the master with its claws, easily wound the student and escape. The hunters took the sorcerer, he also turned out to be a girl who called herself Cordelia Bosque, a member of the Chapter of Wizards.

She admitted that magicians and vampires have something like a secret agreement. Magicians are interested in the ability of vampires to summon demons from another world and control them to a certain extent. Vampires needed advanced, refined spells to control demons that ghouls could not develop themselves.

Having released the sorceress in all four directions, the master and student went back with all haste. The striga certainly had to return as soon as it regenerated and got rid of its wounds.

And she returned, but not alone. Two more young ghouls, and with them the high vampire who turned them all, Venqueviliana, known as the Scarlet Lady.

In a difficult battle, the hunters managed to kill one of the ghouls, seriously wound the other two, but the student also received serious wounds. And, probably, the master himself would have remained there if help had not unexpectedly arrived - an unknown creature, similar to a strange large animal, forced Venquevillana to flee and finished off the two surviving vampires.

With great difficulty, the master brought the mortally wounded student to the city of Predslavl, where, having received the news, Master Bonaventura hastened to help. The alchemist managed to delay the process of transforming the young man into a monster, however, in order to finally cope with the misfortune, a magician was required.

And then the master and Bonaventure remembered a sorcerer who, in ancient times, hunted vampires with them...

About Master Benjamin Skorra. This sorcerer had already been in the far north for quite some time, working as a modest city wizard in Gribnaya Krucha, a village of half-hearted people. And it had to happen that right now his solitude was violated - his old friend and love interest, the sorceress Alisande de Brieux di Bralier du Vargas, with whom Veniamin had strong feelings during their joint studies at the Academy, came to visit.

Benjamin did not immediately understand the purpose of the sorceress’s visit. And she came, neither more nor less, to ask for his help in some mysterious, but very important project Chapter, where vampires participated. Master Skorre allegedly prevented the sorcerers by sending out certain homunculi who killed the ghouls so valuable for the project.

Of course, Master Skorre denied everything.

It is unknown how long the verbal duels would have continued ex-lovers, however, in ley lines conducting magical power through the flesh of the world, a strange vibration arose. Benjamin and Alisande followed the trail that led them to the old temple of the Chaos worshipers. And a strange goat-footed creature burst out of it, easily avoiding combat spells and declaring that it had come here to herald the imminent end of the world and the embodiment of unknown Prophecies of Destruction.

Easily fighting off the magician and sorceress, the goat-legged creature disappeared.

Alisanda was eager to get him at any cost, to capture him, to interrogate him. And for this she turned to her, as she put it, “situational allies” - vampires.

Having tracked the goatfoot through a sophisticated spell, Alisande and Benjamin opened two portals for the pair of vampires who appeared, leading directly to the goatfoot creature. Soon they returned with the prisoner, but badly dented. In payment, the vampires - their names were le Vefrevel and Beata - demanded certain spells from Alisande. And she was ready to give them away, but the young striga Beata snatched the book from the sorceress’s hands and disappeared in an unknown direction, finally opening a portal from which a giant demon appeared. Even the magicians and le Vefrevel together could not cope with this guest. They were saved only by the fact that Alisande, at the cost of great efforts, managed to close the portal opened by Beata.

It became clear that the Chapter's original plan had failed. Now it was necessary to understand what these Prophecies of Destruction were and repel the new threat.

Lines run along the parchment, even, as if on a ruler. The feather dances in thin fingers, eyes of a strange amber color look at the writing intensely and carefully. The characters, lined up in a neat row, bear no resemblance to any common alphabet. Few people know that the girl, known in the Peterian Order as Magda, mixes three dead languages in her report, superimposing them on the grammar of a fourth. The "letters" that make up the letter are not used by anyone other than the brothers and sisters of the Order.

If this message falls into the wrong hands, even to the sorcerers of the Congregation, they will have to work hard to decipher it.

"Your Eminence,

the first part of the work has been successfully completed. Tests showed consistently reproducible results. In the near future we will subject the received data to a final check. Our friends point to a certain purpose, perhaps known to your Eminence; I do not dare to entrust even this message with the specific determination of the goal. The eradication of this goal is in the interests of our friends, because it is connected with the counteraction provided to them; It will bring us neither benefits nor losses. I suppose I agree with the arguments of our friends.

Magda."

Northern tract

Of course, the master thought, traveling in such a stagecoach is much more pleasant than on the back of a monitor lizard. A soft chair, warm inside, look out the window and think about the mortal. Well, or about the imperishable, if you want.

The venerable Bachelor of Natural Philosophy, Master Bonaventure, for a change, abandoned the dissection of vampire heads and began to feed his patient, who was still in a strange semi-conscious state.

– Morrigan is the creation of the Scarlet Lady. – The fat man stood next to the secured stretcher. – Now we can say with complete confidence. And Gregor and Peter too. Everything is relatively fresh. Morrigan is younger, the other two are no more than five or six years old. However... I still have additional research to do... there is something I don’t like about their excrement, about all these four. And from the freshest one, whom you, my friend, broke first, and from the rest of the troika. Atypical. But here in field conditions, I can only conduct the most superficial analysis. You can't make a correct conjunction or putrification here. – He sighed. - Eat, eat, poor fellow. You eat well... but with everything else... A real magician is needed, oh, how needed.

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Nick Perumov

Hunters

Prophecies of Destruction

Wings blacker than the sky

(One hundred thirty-five years before the events of the book begin)

The night turned out to be damp and misty, long gray tongues of fog were creeping from the deep ravines towards the village, and it seemed that the unknown creatures hiding in them were about to lick up the miserable huts covered with rotten straw.

And from these huts to the woven gray curtain, a chain of torches now often stretched. Away from the outskirts, barns and barns, from pastures - to a hill at the very edge of the forest, where seven stone pillars-monoliths rose, barely visible in the darkness, placed here in times so ancient that even scribes, if they happened to be here and heard the question about the age of the temple would only throw up one’s hands.

However, it was precisely to this hill that the procession was heading.

And it was surprisingly numerous for this time of day.

The places here, on the border of the Desolate Forest, have never been distinguished by peace and quiet. Robber gangs roamed around, monsters wandered through the thickets, who didn’t care whether they ate the cattle or their owners. And so that the flops just like that themselves climbed somewhere in the dark at night? What happened to them, why all of a sudden such fearlessness?

Ahead of everyone, six hefty men in homespun trousers and shirts, busily snoring, were dragging on their shoulders something wrapped in gray canvas, tied over whatever came to hand - belts, ropes, even fishing net– and desperately kicking.

- Hush, witch! “One of those who were dragging him shoved his fist where he had to. A scream was heard from the cocoon and immediately a furious hissing.

“Nothing, Radovan,” said another porter in a deep voice. - Just a little one. And there he goes to the post, and... as soon as his heels begin to smoke, he immediately learns how to cast a spell!

- I didn’t do any magic! – a package was heard from the depths. - Uncle Mikhas! Well, uncle Mikhas! You know me!

“Me too, my niece has found his way,” the broad-shouldered man hastily began to talk to Radovan. - Don’t meddle with my family, you witchcraft spawn!.. You ruined the cow, you damned witch! Exhausted a pregnant pig!

“Minka betrayed the little one to a cruel death...” another one entered.

- Drag, drag, there’s no point in talking here. When we put it on the fire, then we will begin to list the witch’s guilt.

- Exactly! - someone tall and skinny, wearing a long brown robe of either a local priest or a traveling preacher, entered the conversation. - Let's credit the witch with her crimes! Let him repent in the font of fire, on the edge of death! Let be…

“Forgive me, dean,” Radovan interrupted the priest. - We came, however.

- Hm. That's right, yes, they came, son. A good place, clean, prayed for. You kept your idols in order, well done, my children, I praise you. There are few places where the Ancient Gods are now worshiped properly, as they are among you - that is why they all have disasters, apostates! And the witch - give her here, for brushwood! Yes, tie him to a post, by the elbows, like that!

The monoliths were decorated with narrow-eyed faces crudely carved directly on the stone. All with gaping mouths full of huge teeth. The appearance of these entities was in no way conducive to worship.

In the very middle of this circle stood a pillar, unlike the others - smooth and not gray, but somehow as if smoky. At its foot was a huge pile of firewood, surrounded on all sides by bundles of brushwood.

It was to this pillar that the six porters began to fasten their wheezing, hissing, like a wild cat, burden.

- Hurry up, kids! For witches burn well at night, driving away evil spirits and all harmful creatures!

Meanwhile, the rest of the procession with torches pulled up to the Seven Stones - men and women, old men and women, probably the entire population of the village.

“Then take the bag off her!” Now listen, witch, to the list of your atrocities! – Raising his voice, with unexpected shrill notes, the priest announced. “For you are a vessel of abominations of other men, a vessel of meth...

He wanted to say something else, but at that moment something rustled over the heads of the crowd. It was as if an invisible ice wave, the cold breath of winter, had fallen from above.

- Ah-ah-ah! It's flying, it's flying! - some young girl squealed.

-Who is flying? Where is it flying? – the priest jumped up. He stumbled out of the blue, waved his arms absurdly and released the torch.

The fire flowed through the brushwood, crackled cheerfully, rushing upward towards the girl huddled in her bonds.

A sharp whistling sound of wings. The icy wind became cutting, people backed away - and right on a pile of flaming brushwood on one side, a tall dark figure appeared, wrapped in a cloak that resembled wings bat.

– What’s the matter, my good plowmen? Mes bons agriculteurs? Ce qui se passe ici? What's going on here? – asked the arrival. Pale face and dazzling white teeth, whiter than snow. – Who are you planning to burn here tonight? Wait, wait, let me guess – la sorcière? Witch? Which, of course, with its witchcraft spoiled crops, caused the death of livestock, miscarriages in pregnant women, maybe even the death of children who were completely healthy at first glance?

Either he threw something into the fire, or he really had some kind of power, but the flame soared, roared, brushwood and firewood ignited instantly.

The tied up girl screamed as she pushed herself wildly.

The creature next to her grinned angrily and hissed.

A wave of the dark cloak - and the straps burst, the condemned witch fell like a heap into the arms of her savior.

In one leap, he jumped off a pile of flaming firewood, his clothes, smoldering in many places, were smoking, and long, pointed fangs were clearly visible in the dark opening of his mouth.

- Whomper! – one of the more courageous men shouted.

Probably the villagers should have run away in horror at the sight of such fear; but in Desolate Forest there lived then a strong and stocky people, although poor and oppressed by labor. Many came to the trial not only with torches, but also with axes, and with sharpened stakes, and with pitchforks, and with flails, and with all sorts of similar weapons, which only those who have never been under their blows can laugh at.

Despite the squeals and screams, in a single moment a solid wall rose in front of the vampire and the half-insensible victim hanging on him - drekolye, pitchforks, scythes, beastly horned spears. The men backed away, but did not run.

- Friendly, that's it! - barked that same uncle Mikhas. - Press the whomp from all sides!

The vampire looked back quickly - so quickly that hardly anyone saw his movement. For some reason, he could not transfer back to the bat; he stood there, supporting the barely alive witch girl with one hand. He hissed again, snorted like an angry cat, and pointed right hand, on which impressive claws suddenly flashed.

However, the gloomy, determined men, not at all afraid of the “Womper,” pressed forward, and the points of their stakes with pitchforks swayed menacingly already at some six or seven feet.

The vampire took off, swinging his free right hand in a crisscross pattern. The claws crashed into the thick stake, passed through it, leaving an even cut, but their sharpness played a cruel joke on the vampire - he did not knock the peasant’s weapon aside, he did not even make it duller, just the opposite.

The stake hit him in the shoulder, threw him back, and the vampire had to twist with his whole body, slipping under the pitchforks thrust at his back. The crowd almost closed over him; claws flashed again, someone who was too close shouted, and at that moment a heavy flail fell on the ghoul’s head with all its might.

Dark blood poured out in a stream, but the vampire seemed to be waiting for this. The right hand grabbed the flail, pulled the daring fighter towards himself, and with enormous force he flew chest forward right into the tips of the pitchforks and spears. The vampire rushed after him.

The men's instant confusion cost them two more - the claws opened the neck of one, and tore off half the face of the other. Throwing away the third, pushing away the fourth, the vampire cleared the way for himself and, throwing the witch over his shoulder, galloped away, towards the dark, fog-shrouded forest.

Behind him, the wounded were screaming terribly, the crowd was wailing. A thrown spear whistled, pierced her back, and as soon as the girl was not hit, the ghoul growled, wheezed in pain, twitched, bringing his shoulder blades almost together. The shaft fell out, blood splashed out of the wound in a wave, dark, smoking, like earthen oil.

He crashed into the thickets, and they no longer pursued him there.

* * *

- Thank you! - The girl was good. As expected, redhead with green eyes- such people in villages are always suspected of witchcraft, especially jealous wives, noticing the glances of their men directed at the “shameless redhead.”

In the centuries-long war between humans and vampires, unexpected turn when there are peacekeepers on both sides of the barricades, ready to try to find mutual language with old enemies. But not everyone is ready to even think about peace, and while the leaders of the Night People and the sorcerers of the Chapter are conducting secret negotiations, the confrontation between vampires and hunters - the defenders of ordinary people - continues.

Novel
Genre: adventure fantasy
Publishing house: “Eksmo”, 2017
Artist: I. Khivrenko
Series: “Fantasy of Nika Perumov”
416 pp., 15,000 copies.
"Tales of the Orderly One", part 1, book 1
Similar to:
Barb Hendy, J. S. Hendy, Dampier cycle
Peter W. Brett "Marked"

The large-scale epic novel "Death of the Gods 2", which has been actively worked on over the past five years, is intended to complete the story of Hedin and Rakot, which began more than twenty years ago. But if the final point is expected here, then this does not at all mean farewell to the Ordered Universe. This is clearly indicated by the start of a new sub-cycle, which opens with the novel “Hunters. Prophecies of Destruction."

Most of the books in the main series are distinguished by their epic scope: the characters are all powerful sorcerers and gods, and the actions of the heroes affect the fate of entire worlds. “Hunters” cannot boast of such things - by the standards of the cycle it is a very chamber work.

The action takes place in one and only world, where we have not looked before. The plot revolves around a local conflict between people and the Night People. The main characters are local inhabitants: a nameless vampire hunter with an apprentice, the sorcerer Benjamin Skorre, waging his own war against vampires, his ex-lover Alisande du Vargas, seeking to end the feud between the two nations. Certainly, ordinary people you can’t name them, but they are clearly not in the same “weight category” as, for example, Hedin or even Fess.

Therefore, the first “Tale of the Ordered”, unlike the novels of the main cycle, cannot be attributed to the epic fantasy for which Perumov is famous: no global events take place here and the fate of the universe is not decided. On the pages of "Hunters" readers will find a cheerful adventure fantasy with rapidly developing events, several intertwined storylines and an abundance of fight scenes.

The first “Tale of the Orderly One” cannot be classified as the epic fantasy for which Perumov is famous

From time to time, Nick slows down the narrative slightly to allow the characters to discuss what is happening at length; predilection for long-winded conversations differ in last years characters from most of Perumov's books, and characters“Hunters” were no exception. Oddly enough, the author reveals the world of the book rather weakly: in terms of elaboration and quantity of details, he is significantly inferior to Melin or Evial. Moreover, if it weren’t for the appearance of an extremely recognizable messenger of one of the great forces of the Ordered and the mention of several familiar names, it would not be easy to guess that the events of “Hunters” take place in the universe familiar to us from “The Death of the Gods” and “Annals of the Rift.” However, the weak connection with the main cycle is fully compensated by the fact that “Prophecies of Destruction” can easily be read without familiarity with Perumov’s previous novels.

However, if there’s anything I seriously want to complain about after reading “Hunters,” it’s the local vampires. Almost all the representatives of the Night People who appear on the pages of the book turned out to be very faded and inexpressive, with the exception of the antagonist, the Scarlet Lady. Obviously, the author sought to move away from the now fashionable tendency to show ambiguous, or even positive, bloodsuckers and therefore portrayed them as real monsters. But we remember from the unforgettable Ephraim and Hedin’s apprentices that Perumov knows how to write delicious vampires! It's a shame that in the novel, where they play a key role, he was unable or did not want to do this.

Bottom line: a rare fantasy about vampires these days, where blood lovers are no more or less positive heroes, but the main enemies of the human race. We will find out in the second and final volume of “Hunters” whether the warring parties will be able to resolve the centuries-old conflict.

Electronic sales

This spring, a store opened on Nik Perumov’s official website perumov.club e-books. In it you can purchase the writer’s works that were published earlier; New works will also appear there, distributed exclusively. For example, through the site you can buy the story “The Witch’s Court”, which is adjacent to the cycle about Molly Blackwater and has not been published in paper. And for pre-ordering “Prophecies of Destruction,” readers will receive the prequel story “The Roofs of the Academy.”

A ghoul - any ghoul - is evil in itself. Any ghoul kills, drinks blood, eats hearts and livers. But... he rarely kills just like that, casually. Although in recent years... - He stopped short. - And when I just started, most of the old ghouls actually resembled lone wolves. They killed for food, and occasionally for fun. But they just killed. And Elysia, a gentle young lady like your little flower, did not kill dozens of people, even hundreds. She cut and, damn it, laid out patterns on the squares.

Page 1 of 85

Prologue I
Wings blacker than the sky

(One hundred thirty-five years before the events of the book begin)

However, it was precisely to this hill that the procession was heading.

And it was surprisingly numerous for this time of day.

- Hush, witch! “One of those who were dragging him shoved his fist where he had to. A scream was heard from the cocoon and immediately a furious hissing.

“Nothing, Radovan,” said another porter in a deep voice. - Just a little one. And there he goes to the post, and... as soon as his heels begin to smoke, he immediately learns how to cast a spell!

- I didn’t do any magic! – a package was heard from the depths. - Uncle Mikhas! Well, uncle Mikhas! You know me!

“Minka betrayed the little one to a cruel death...” another one entered.

- Drag, drag, there’s no point in talking here. When we put it on the fire, then we will begin to list the witch’s guilt.

“Forgive me, dean,” Radovan interrupted the priest. - We came, however.

- Hm. That's right, yes, they came, son. Nice place, clean, prayed for. You kept your idols in order, well done, my children, I praise you. There are few places where the Ancient Gods are now worshiped properly, as they are among you - that is why they all have disasters, apostates! And the witch - give her here, for brushwood! Yes, tie him to a post, by the elbows, like that!

It was to this pillar that the six porters began to fasten their wheezing, hissing, like a wild cat, burden.

- Hurry up, kids! For witches burn well at night, driving away evil spirits and all harmful creatures!

Meanwhile, the rest of the procession with torches pulled up to the Seven Stones - men and women, old men and women, probably the entire population of the village.

He wanted to say something else, but at that moment something rustled over the heads of the crowd. It was as if an invisible ice wave, the cold breath of winter, had fallen from above.

- Ah-ah-ah! It's flying, it's flying! - some young girl squealed.

-Who is flying? Where is it flying? – the priest jumped up. He stumbled out of the blue, waved his arms absurdly and released the torch.

The fire flowed through the brushwood, crackled cheerfully, rushing upward towards the girl huddled in her bonds.

A sharp whistling sound of wings. The icy wind became cutting, the people backed away - and right on the pile of flaming brushwood on one side, a tall dark figure appeared, wrapped in a cloak that resembled the wings of a bat.

Either he threw something into the fire, or he really had some kind of power, but the flame soared, roared, brushwood and firewood ignited instantly.

The tied up girl screamed as she pushed herself wildly.

The creature next to her grinned angrily and hissed.

A wave of the dark cloak - and the straps burst, the condemned witch fell like a heap into the arms of her savior.

In one leap, he jumped off a pile of flaming firewood, his clothes, smoldering in many places, were smoking, and long, pointed fangs were clearly visible in the dark opening of his mouth.

- Whomper! – one of the more courageous men shouted.

- Friendly, that's it! - barked that same uncle Mikhas. - Press the whomp from all sides!

The vampire looked around quickly - so quickly that hardly anyone saw his movement. For some reason, he could not transfer back to the bat, and stood there, supporting the barely alive witch girl with one hand. He hissed again, snorted like an angry cat, put out his right hand, on which impressive claws suddenly flashed.

Nick Perumov “Hunters. Prophecies of Destruction. Prologue IWings blacker than the sky Nick Perumov hunters prophecies of destruction

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Electronic sales

Prologue I Wings blacker than the sky

(One hundred thirty-five years before the events of the book begin)

Prologue I
Wings blacker than the sky