around and froze all stood around me and did not move. People stood in a non-movable, position and did not move.
– You, you, stop time? How is it possible?
– It taught me the corridor, the one you got in the past. And you will go home on time.
– Who else knows about the existence of the corridor?
– Only dedicated. But they can not use it because they do not know the cycles of time. One nun Floors monastery that was once the on Castle Hill, managed to accidentally as you learn one turn of the cycle. She once went back and changed there with his young flesh. She returned to the monastery her young flesh, surprising his young nun. But you can not cheat time. The next day she came back and stayed at home. You know that the corridor has the ability to close and who knows during limited hours, never return in due time.
– Yes, I think I read somewhere about the wonders of the Castle Mountain. That’s to be precise about as described in this historical fact as you talk, Lybed.
– Well, well, let’s be to say goodbye.
– Tell me, I’m very excited; after all, I talk to a living legend, founder of the dynasty of Kiev. Tell us, we’ll meet with you?
– I hope so. Since the motion of the planet Earth in the next few hundred million years is not going to change, our corridor remains stable all the time.
– I hope to see you soon.
– I’ll find myself. – Having said that, she slowly melted in the eyes and vanished. Passengers with a derailed tram began to move, slowly to the metro station «Red Square.» I followed the crowd of passengers…
Chapter Two
Falling asleep while lying in bed, I began to think through the slumber of their family life. A year later, I got married and I love my wife. Children, we have decided not to start. First you have to live for yourself, look around, then to make a final decision and take the education of infants. With such thoughts of a warm, cozy family nest came a dream, like a breath of spring breeze with the smell of the first spring foliage mixed with the smell of herbs. Inhaling the aroma of brown hair of my wife calling Association spring breeze brought these wonderful smells of spring, I did not notice that went to sleep. Before my eyes swam pictures dream where I saw myself as a scientist, the warrior, the boy, the son of a blacksmith…
…The Time Machine brought this boy to us from time immemorial. He was twelve years old at the most. He was dressed beautifully in rich robes. Most looked like a little flour and breakfast childhood oriental tales than beautiful European boy.
– I was born – he began his story – in the family of a blacksmith. My father, Gabriel Handy, famous for its blacksmith and heroic strength. He could lift with one hand on the back of a bull and make a mountain that near the mill, a cart laden with sacks of flour. – Boy solidly akimbo, it was evident that he was proud of his father.
– My name is Nikolka. I still had seven brothers and sister. Father is older than I am, often he took with him into the forest to fetch wood for charcoal obtaining. And we sometimes spent at work a few days. One day, like last time, we went with him on our mare harnessed to a cart to the forest for firewood. Home stay with young nurse my brothers and sister. Father last time scheduled and stripped the bark at the bottom of the trunks of several pine trees, they have dried up and waiting when we will cut them for firewood. The forest was so quiet and mysterious, only the tops of roaring wind. We drove into the clearing. There was a sagging wall frame. In the hut we found the skins on the bed and on the stove. Found harvested supplies, onions and potatoes. Here we are going to stay for a week. This was our building, where they could spend the night and in the winter without fear of severe frosts.
My father woke me up at sunrise to sunset; we cut down a pine tree. I knocked branches, their father was chopping firewood. Chop up a cart full of wood with the top. To do this, the sides of the cart were stuck flat and long branches and can be shipped in the WHO how could drag our horse. And filled to the wagon, we moved back. When the bend of the road there, was the first charred hut, my heart pounding in my chest anxiety.
– Again fire at Rakitin. – Said the father. But it was not a fire – it was a whole conflagration. Our farm burned down. Not a single hut is left intact. The ashes become homeless wandering dogs, and occasionally heard their eerie howling. Father, that is urine, drove the horse to our house. On the road I came across scattered in disarray broken dishes, tubs, the corpses of old men and women, and killed livestock. It frightened in this dead farm.
Here, finally, is our cottage. A pile of smoking firebrands but still ash on the ground of property. And the mother of the dead, and my brothers and sister. Nurse lying near the hearth with an arrow in his chest. The father went to his mother and pulled the arrow out of his chest. He carefully examined the arrow.
– Tatars! – She said in a choked voice, turned around and went to the place where it was smithy. They rummaged in ash, he took a shovel with a candle of grip. He pulled out of cinder shovel and put in its place a long branch, which pulled out of the wood to prop up the wagon. Brothers and sister, and mother we buried. Then his father by ash from surviving instrument, something which the dishes, loaded it all on a cart and we headed back to the rickety shack. There also began to live. I helped my father to process garden and tinker with it frame. And when this council, my father became a master of the bow. Arrows he did with metal tips. When winter came, the father went to nag away into the forest to hunt and bring to a deer carcass. And once he brought on poles hooked to the horse bear. From bearskin was a good and warm Zupan, and bear meat was very hearty and delicious. We lived with his father in affluence and warmth. Only a sense of constant longing for the people of mamma and sister develops and persists. One day in the spring, when we came back from the hunt, in the clearing stood a horse with a bloody man on his back. When we got closer to the horses, they saw that person sticks out from the back arrow. The father took the horse’s body and examined it. He was a young man dressed in a Russian soldier. He was wearing a leather jacket over a coat of mail. Leather pants and boots, a helmet on his head with a white beam of horsehair. All spoke of the high-born warrior. On his side hung a sword in its sheath. Father carefully to avoid causing unnecessary pain, rolled armor, ripped his shirt near the wound, and his ear to his chest began to listen.
– He is alive. – With these words, my father suffered a body in the house. Lubricate the wound bandaged bear grease and clean rag, prepared in advance, just in case, to hunt there, anything can happen.
Warrior raved three nights. He shouted among my deep sleep and often wake us. He called someone in their delusional hallucinations, he shouted and ordered. On the fourth night was quiet. I thought that he passed away, but his breathing evened out, was calm. During the day he opened his eyes, looked around and asked me in a weak voice:
– Where am I?
– You are at the smithy craftsmen Gavril, I’m his son. Nikolka my name. Our farm burned Tatars, were all killed. My father and the entire farm just stayed.
– Where’s the father?
– He’s gone to hunt, and told me to be near you.
– Where is my sword, bow, chain mail? – He moaned, trying to get up. – Give them to me, I want … – he did not finish, and fell on the skins, terrible
