EntranceWonderful plain of fet. “Wonderful picture, how dear you are to me! Analysis of Fet's poem "Wonderful Picture..."
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हिन्दी: विकिपीडिया साइट को और अधिक सुरक्षित बना रहा है। आप एक पुराने वेब ब्राउज़र का उपयोग कर रहे हैं जो भविष्य में विकिपीडिया से कनेक्ट नहीं हो पाएगा। कृपया अपना डिवाइस अपडेट करें या अपने आईटी व्यवस्थापक से संपर्क करें। नीचे अंग्रेजी में एक लंबा और अधिक तकनीकी अद्यतन है।
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Sergey Yesenin
I'm going. Quiet. Ringing sounds are heard.
Under the hoof in the snow,
Only gray crows
They made noise in the meadow.
Bewitched by the invisible
The forest slumbers under the fairy tale of sleep,
Like a white scarf
The pine tree has tied up.
Bent over like an old lady
Leaned on a stick
And above the very top of your head
A woodpecker is hitting a branch.
The horse is galloping, there is a lot of space,
The snow is falling and the shawl is laying down.
Endless road
Runs off like a ribbon into the distance.
Blank verses
Sergey Mikhalkov
The snow is spinning
The snow is falling -
Snow! Snow! Snow!
The beast and the bird are glad to see the snow
And, of course, a person!
Happy gray tits:
Birds are freezing in the cold,
Snow fell - frost fell!
The cat washes its nose with snow.
The puppy has a black back
White snowflakes are melting.
The sidewalks are covered in snow,
Everything around is white and white:
Snow-snow-snowfall!
Enough work for shovels,
For shovels and scrapers,
For large trucks.
The snow is spinning
The snow is falling -
Snow! Snow! Snow!
The beast and the bird are glad to see the snow
And, of course, a person!
Only the janitor, only the janitor
He says: - I am this Tuesday
I will never forget!
Snowfall is a disaster for us!
The scraper scrapes all day long,
The broom sweeps all day long.
A hundred sweats left me,
And everything is white again!
Snow! Snow! Snow!
The winter sorceress is coming...
Alexander Pushkin
The winter sorceress is coming,
Came, crumbled into shreds
Hanged on the branches of oak trees,
Lay down in wavy carpets
Among the fields around the hills.
Brega with a still river
She leveled it with a plump veil;
The frost has flashed, and we are glad
To the pranks of Mother Winter.
Winter night
Boris Pasternak
The day cannot be corrected by the efforts of the luminaries,
Do not lift the shadows of Epiphany veils.
It's winter on earth, and the smoke of the fires is powerless
Straighten the houses that lay flat.
Rolls of lanterns and crumpets of roofs, and black
White in the snow - the doorframe of the mansion:
This is a manor's house, and I am its tutor.
I am alone - I sent the student to bed.
They are not waiting for anyone. But - keep the curtain tight.
The sidewalk is bumpy, the porch is swept away.
Memory, don't worry! Grow together with me! Believe!
And assure me that I am one with you.
Are you talking about her again? But that's not what I'm excited about.
Who revealed the dates to her, who put her on the trail?
That blow is the source of everything. Until the rest,
By her grace, now I don't care.
The sidewalk is in the hillocks. Between the snow ruins
Frozen bottles of bare black ice.
Buns of lanterns. and on the trumpet, like an owl,
Drowned in feathers, unsociable smoke.
December morning
Fedor Tyutchev
There is a month in the sky - and night
The shadow has not yet moved,
Reigns over himself without realizing it,
That the day has already started up, -
Which is at least lazy and timid
Beam appears after ray,
And the sky is still completely
At night it shines with triumph.
But two or three moments will not pass,
The night will evaporate over the earth,
And in the full splendor of manifestations
Suddenly the world of daytime will embrace us...
Winter road
A.S. Pushkin
Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.
On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.
Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That heartbreak......
No fire, no black house,
Wilderness and snow.... To meet me
Only miles are striped
They come across one...
Bored, sad..... tomorrow, Nina,
Returning to my dear tomorrow,
I'll forget myself by the fireplace,
I'll take a look without looking at it.
The hour hand sounds loud
He will make his measuring circle,
And, removing the annoying ones,
Midnight will not separate us.
It’s sad, Nina: my path is boring,
My driver fell silent from his doze,
The bell is monotonous,
The moon's face is clouded.
winter night
Boris Pasternak
Chalk, chalk all over the earth
To all limits.
The candle was burning on the table,
The candle was burning.
Like a swarm of midges in summer
Flies into the flames
Flakes flew from the yard
To the window frame.
A snowstorm sculpted on the glass
Circles and arrows.
The candle was burning on the table,
The candle was burning.
To the illuminated ceiling
The shadows were falling
Crossing of arms, crossing of legs,
Crossing fates.
And two shoes fell
With a thud to the floor.
And wax with tears from the night light
It was dripping on my dress.
And everything was lost in the snowy darkness
Gray and white.
The candle was burning on the table,
The candle was burning.
There was a blow on the candle from the corner,
And the heat of temptation
Raised two wings like an angel
Crosswise.
It was snowy all month in February,
Every now and then
The candle was burning on the table,
The candle was burning.
Dilapidated hut
Alexander Blok
Dilapidated hut
It's all covered in snow.
Grandma-old lady
He looks out of the window.
To the naughty grandchildren
Knee-deep snow.
Fun for the kids
Running a fast sled...
They run, laugh,
Making a snow house
They ring loudly
Voices all around...
There will be a snow house
Frisky game...
My fingers will get cold, -
It's time to go home!
Tomorrow we'll have tea
They look out the window -
And the house has already melted,
It's spring outside!
Sergey Yesenin
White birch
Below my window
Covered with snow
Exactly silver.
On fluffy branches
Snow border
The brushes have blossomed
White fringe.
And the birch tree stands
In sleepy silence,
And the snowflakes are burning
In golden fire.
And the dawn is lazy
Walking around
Sprinkles branches
New silver.
Wonderful picture...
Afanasy Fet
Wonderful picture
How dear you are to me:
White plain,
Full moon
The light of the high heavens,
And shining snow
And distant sleighs
Lonely running.
Winter
Sergey Yesenin
Autumn has already flown away,
And winter came rushing.
As if on wings, she flew
Suddenly she is invisible.
Now the frosts are crackling
And all the ponds were shackled.
And the boys screamed
Thanks to her for her efforts.
Here are the patterns
On glass of wondrous beauty.
Everyone turned their gaze
Looking at this. From above
Snow falls, flashes, curls,
It falls like a great veil.
Here the sun is blinking in the clouds,
And the frost sparkles on the snow.
Where is the sweet whisper...
Evgeny Baratynsky
Where is the sweet whisper
My forests?
Streams of murmurs,
Meadow flowers?
The trees are bare;
Carpet winter
Covered the hills
Meadows and valleys.
Under the ice
With its bark
The stream grows numb;
Everything is numb
Only the evil wind
Raging, howling
And the sky covers
Gray haze.
Why, sad,
I'm watching out the window
Are there snowstorms?
To the lover of happiness
Shelter from bad weather
It gives.
The fire is crackling
In my oven;
His rays
And the ardor is flying
I'm having fun
A carefree look.
I dream in silence
Before the live
His game
And I forget
I storm howl.
Wonderful picture
How dear you are to me:
White plain,
Full moon
The light of the high heavens,
And shining snow
And distant sleighs
Lonely running.
Analysis of the poem “Wonderful Picture” by Fet
A. Fet was often reproached for excessive brevity and lack of deep meaning in his poems. The poet admitted that he considers even the manifestation of personal feelings unnecessary. In his opinion, a work should convey immediate impressions as accurately as possible and not impose the author’s position on readers. This idea of Fet manifested itself especially clearly in his early work. A typical example is the poem “Wonderful Picture” (1842).
The author describes his real impressions under the influence of a winter night trip. The poem is a miniature. It could be created in a burst of creative inspiration in a few seconds. Fet's talent lies in the fact that he was able to capture the most necessary details. The author’s personal attitude is expressed in only one phrase: “how dear you are to me.” This is quite enough to show the poet’s boundless love for his land. If for most contemporaries patriotism was expressed in an abundance of solemn words and promises, then Fet just mentions some everyday signs of the Russian landscape: “white plain”, “brilliant snow”. “Sleigh... lonely running” connects his poem with the traditional image of the Russian troika, symbolizing the whole of Russia.
Fet was a man with a very sensitive soul. Ordinary things that many would not pay any attention to could delight him. The poet's main merit lies in his ability to convey this feeling to the reader using minimal artistic means. The poem “Wonderful Picture” seems simple and naive to the point of banality, but magically creates a joyful atmosphere in the soul.
The poet was still a very young man. His inspiration was directly related to his youthful dreams and hopes, which were distinguished by their freshness and purity.
Only after the tragic death of M. Lazic did personal motives appear in Fet’s work. But at the same time, the poet never imposed his sad reflections on nature, but continued to look for in it a correspondence with personal experiences. Fet was of the opinion that nature stands on equal terms with man and has its own soul. Therefore, he saw his task as giving natural phenomena a well-deserved tribute, and not trying to explain them from the point of view of reason.
The lyrics presented are quite small in volume. But this does not mean that you can quickly and superficially read the poem “Wonderful Picture” by Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet. Despite its brevity, the poem carries a serious semantic load.
When creating this work, dated 1842, the author implemented an interesting idea. The poet did not use a single verb in the text, but the resulting picture feels quite dynamic. This construction of the poem gives readers the opportunity to imagine the implied words themselves. But even without this action, the landscape reproduced by the author does not lose its significance and attractiveness. Fet with sincere admiration describes the wonderful picture that opened up to him on a winter night. The author was attracted by the snowy plain, clearly visible in the bright moonlight, and the distant sound of running sleighs, rare for such a time. Of course, even these simple, everyday, familiar to many moments are worthy of close attention.
When considering the text of Fet’s poem “Wonderful Picture” in a literature lesson in the 5th grade, it is very important to emphasize its structural features. On our website, poems are easy to learn online or download in full.
Stepping through the disk, Midnight left Kanaglim and found herself on a white plain. It seemed to the sorceress as if her brain remained in place, as if it were an axis of rotation, and her body only made a revolution around it.
Midnight took a breath - and the acrid fumes burned her throat and nose. She looked around, but the shining whiteness blinded her like the sun. The earth underfoot moved as if alive, and millions of monotonously buzzing voices filled the air with their murmur, which made the sorceress’s skin tingle.
Gradually, Midnight's vision was restored. A shimmering disk hung in the air next to her. It seemed unwise to leave the door between Levels open; the sorceress concentrated - and the disk disappeared.
In a moment, her brain began to process what she had seen, heard, and felt. She stood on an endless white plain among so many people that she would not even dare to count them. Unlike the ghosts of Kanaglim, these creatures had material, completely tangible bodies. If Midnight didn't know who was in front of her, she might have thought that these people were alive.
To the right of the sorceress stood a huge crowd of thousands. Everyone was looking in the same direction, with their heads turned to the sky, as if they were looking at something that Midnight could not see. While she was studying the crowd of inhabitants of the underworld, a whisper was heard from somewhere in the back rows of the crowd. Becoming louder, it rolled in a wave towards the sorceress and finally, turning into the roar of the tide, fell on her. Midnight even winced at this noise.
- Tyr! - the crowd howled.
Thousands of followers simultaneously called the name of their master. Midnight easily imagined how their scream made its way through the emptiness of the inter-level space and, having reached the Kingdoms, reached the ears of Tyr.
“O Tyr, god of Justice, Guardian of Libra, answer us who have believed in you,” they shouted in the crowd. Despite the many voices, the words of the prayer sounded clear and distinct. - When will you answer us, those who laid down their lives for the sake of your glory, who brought truth and justice to all ends of our world? Listen to the prayer of your parishioners, Tyr. Take a look for yourself! Here is Mishkul the Mighty, who called King Lagost to justice; and here is Ornik the Sage, who judged the cities of Yonne and Talbeuf; and here is Krat from Proskur, who...
The prayer continued, the believers proved their devotion to their god and listed the exploits of all those present. Judging by the size of the crowd, the liturgy must have lasted for several days. The sorceress wandered away from the gathering of believers, trying to find anything that could indicate the location of the Castle of Ashes.
On her way, she often encountered groups of people ranging from five or six to ten thousand. One day, Midnight encountered twelve women who were flagellating themselves as a sign of loyalty to the goddess of Pain, Loviatar. Another time, the sorceress came across a thousand followers of Ilmater standing shoulder to shoulder in complete silence. Sometimes there were groups of believers chanting prayers to the ancient gods, whose names had long been forgotten in the Kingdoms.
After several hours of wandering, Midnight realized that she would never find the way to the castle unless someone directed her. And then she stopped one plump man.
– Could you tell me how to find the Castle of Ashes? – asked the sorceress.
The man opened his eyes wide and scared.
- No, no, I can’t! – he snapped. - How do I know the way there? And what did you need in the castle?
The man turned sharply and disappeared into the crowd.
Midnight stopped three more and asked them the same question. Their answers were strikingly similar to each other: all three stated that they did not know the location of the castle, and then made it clear that asking such questions was simply stupid. And the sorceress decided to stop asking questions. For some reason, her requests caused the dead to become incredibly agitated.
A terrible scream was heard from Midnight's left. The sorceress immediately turned towards the noise. Thirty steps away from her, something - a whole mountain of muscles - was trying to catch up with some woman. The crowd parted to clear the way for the runners, so Midnight could see the scene unfold from beginning to end.
The woman looked to be about forty years old. She had the same black hair as Midnight, but with gray. However, the sorceress was most interested in the medallion hanging on the woman’s neck: a blue star inside a circle.
Mystra's emblem!
The creature that attacked the woman was disgusting. The creature's head resembled a man's, with a human nose, mouth and ears, but with sharp fangs oozing yellow bile and eyes glowing like hot amber. The head rested on an ugly body, thick and round, like a huge barrel; Long arms extended from the shoulders. Where muscles should have been, mounds of rough, flabby skin bulged out, and numerous old wounds bled foul-smelling green pus. The creature's legs were so swollen that they could hardly support the bulky body. And yet this mountain of meat, swaying from side to side, moved with amazing speed and dexterity.
Since the sorceress knew almost nothing about the Kingdom of the Dead, she doubted whether she should intervene, but her indecision did not last long. Midnight could not ignore the danger facing one of Mystra's followers.
– Leave her alone! – the sorceress shouted.
Hearing her words, the woman rushed towards Midnight. The creature stopped, then frowned and shook its head, as if it couldn't believe what it was hearing.
“It belongs to Lord Myrkul,” the creature finally roared.
Considering the explanation sufficient, the creature ran up to the woman and hit her on the head with handcuffs. Mystra's follower fell.
- Stop! Midnight ordered, walking towards the woman. - Just touch her and you will die!
The creature froze and looked intently at the black-haired sorceress.
- Will I die? Will I touch and die? - the creature roared and burst into laughter, from which small waves ran through the fat body. The freak then knelt down and snapped one ring of the handcuffs onto the woman's wrist.
A confinement spell appeared in Midnight's thoughts. The female magician hesitated for a moment, but immediately felt an unprecedented closeness to the magical fabric of the world. The connection seemed strong and stable, and not as unpredictable as in the Kingdoms. Midnight smiled and cast a spell.
The creature also handcuffed the woman's other wrist.
Having completed the spell ritual, Midnight headed towards the mountain of meat.
“I warned you,” said the sorceress. The ugly carcass looked up and bared its fangs, then rose to its feet.
- You will rot in...
The sorceress extended her hand and touched the vile creature, unleashing magic. The freak immediately fell silent and froze in place. A moment later, the black ball swallowed up the fat monster and dragged him under the white earth. Now the freak will remain there, frozen, until someone frees him.
Midnight began to tremble. She sat down and closed her eyes. Standing in the face of the disgusting creature, the sorceress was angry and full of determination. Now that the duel was over, she, to her surprise, felt unwell and afraid. Even though the magical fabric seemed stable, Midnight trembled at the thought of what could have happened if the spell had failed.
The sorceress tried to push aside thoughts of possible failure. Magic had not failed, and there was no reason to believe that magic was as unstable outside the Realms as it was in the normal world. Midnight sat with her eyes closed for a little longer.
- Do I know you? – asked a male voice. This voice seemed familiar to her, but Midnight could not remember where she heard it. She opened her eyes and saw hundreds of people staring at her. The woman who was saved by the sorceress was nowhere to be seen. She disappeared without thanking her savior.
The man who asked the question, dressed in a scarlet robe embroidered with gold, stood directly in front of Midnight. It was Raymon, a servant of Letander.
-What are you doing here, Ramon? – Midnight was surprised, rising from the ground. The last time she saw him was at the trial in the Valley of Shadows. The clergyman was still alive then.
- So I really know you! – Ramon exclaimed with delight. - I was not mistaken!
Still, the priest did not answer Midnight's question. He died in the forest near the Valley of Shadows when an oak branch suddenly came to life and strangled him. Raymond preferred not to talk about it.
“Yes, you know me,” Midnight confirmed. “You testified against Adon and me at the Elminster murder trial.
Raymond frowned.
- Elminster? But he... he didn't die, did he?
“No, he’s not dead,” Midnight answered quickly. – The court's decision was a mistake.
Raymon frowned again, regretting that he could not remember the details of this matter, since since he found himself on the white plain, the memories had slowly begun to leave the cleric. However, the priest remembered that Midnight escaped execution.
“I don’t remember that trial well,” said the clergyman. “But you escaped, so, as the followers of Lethander say, “a bright dawn is worth a dark night.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Midnight answered, thinking about those people whom Cyric killed to gain her freedom.
Raymon didn't notice Midnight's sadness.
“You behaved bravely in saving that woman,” said the clergyman, shaking his finger at the sorceress. - But at the same time it’s stupid. You only stopped one of them, and that won't save her.
-What kind of freak was that? – Midnight asked, pointing to the place where the pile of meat had just been.
“One of Myrkul’s servants,” Ramon explained.
Midnight's heart jumped and she suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. She noticed that the souls of the dead were still looking at her.
“I want them to stop staring at me,” Midnight said worriedly, glancing at the crowd.
Ramon turned to the onlookers.
“Go ahead, there’s nothing more to see here,” he ordered.
However, the crowd did not disperse, and then Raymon took Midnight by the elbow and took him aside.
- Don't pay attention to them. They were interested in your eyes.
- My eyes? – Midnight was surprised.
- Yes. They were just closed, but the dead do not close their eyes. “Raimon stopped and looked at the sorceress. “I guess that means you're alive.” Right?
- So what? – Midnight asked, looking away and avoiding a direct answer.
- Nothing. Just unusual. The dead do not use magic, unless they are zombies, ghouls. By the way, did you just resurrect or did something else happen to you?
Midnight sighed.
- I'm alive, Raymon. And I need your help.
-What do you want? - the clergyman asked, carefully walking around a group of elderly ladies rolling around laughing on the ground - followers of Llyra, the goddess of Joy.
“I need to find Ash Castle,” Midnight said. “The fate of the whole world depends on this.”
The sorceress did not go into details. Until Ramon agreed to help, it seemed wiser to her not to bring him up to date.
– Castle of Ashes?! - Ramon exclaimed. – This is in the city of Myrkula!
- So what? We are already in his domain.
Raymond shook his head.
- Not really. However, you can get to Myrkul’s abode quite easily.
-Will you help me?
“You must be telling the truth,” Ramon continued, “otherwise you would never have decided on the eternal torment that you will find in the city of Myrkul.” Yes, I will help you, I am sure that the god Letander would want the same from me.
“Thank you,” Midnight nodded. - So where are we going?
Ramon pointed to the right:
- To the west.
- To the west? – Midnight asked, looking around the clear sky and trying to find at least some landmark that could indicate the direction. - How do you know that the west is there?
Ramon smiled:
- I don't know. But when you die and come here, you acquire a certain special feeling that I cannot describe. You just have to trust me.
Considering all the difficulties that Midnight had faced so far, the sorceress decided that it would indeed be smarter.
Raymon led the sorceress through the crowd circling around them, every now and then stopping or turning to the side to make sure that there were no servants of Myrkul nearby. They walked like this for many hours, and Midnight was already starting to get tired.
- How far is it still? – she asked.
“Pretty well,” said Ramon, continuing to walk forward.
“We need to find a way to get there faster,” Midnight said, puffing. “I must meet Kelemvor in Waterdeep.”
“But we can’t move faster,” said Ramon calmly. “Unless, of course, you want to attract the attention of the attendants.” Don't worry though. Time and distance are completely different here. It doesn't matter whether you spend a day or a month getting to the Castle of Ashes - time flies much faster here than on earth.
Several more hours passed, and the sorceress was completely exhausted. She collapsed on the ground and fell asleep, and Ramon had no choice but to guard her peace. It took a long time before Midnight woke up and they continued on their way. On the way, the sorceress did not miss the opportunity to ask Raymon what he knew about the kingdom of Myrkula.
Adjusting his pace to Midnight so that she could keep up, Ramon said:
– Myrkul rules two domains: his own city in Hades, where we are heading and where the Lord of Dust reigns supreme, and the Fugue Plain, a sublevel located next to his city. Supervision of the plain is also the responsibility of the god. Thousands of passages through which the souls of the dead penetrate lead from the Kingdoms to the lands of the Lord of Dust. The souls of Myrkul's followers go straight to his city in Hades.
Here Ramon interrupted his story.
“You know, you can get to Waterdeep even before your friend Kelemvar,” the cleric said after a pause.
- How? – Midnight was surprised. The thought of using the Kingdom of Death as a shortcut inspired the sorceress.
“Most likely, in the city of Myrkula there is an exit to Waterdeep,” Ramon answered. “And if you manage to get out of the city, you can return to the Kingdoms through this passage.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Midnight nodded gloomily.
“The followers of Myrkul,” Ramon continued the interrupted story, “go straight to his city, while everyone else ends up on the plain of Fugi, which in reality is only a temporary refuge for the souls of the dead. Here the servants of Myrkul - I think they were once his parishioners - collect the souls of the Unfaithful and the Deceitful...
- Unfaithful and Lying? – Midnight interrupted.
“The deceitful are those who betray their gods,” Ramon explained. “And those who do not worship any gods are called Infidels.”
– And what do the servants do with them? Midnight asked, thinking about Adon and his refusal to believe in Sune.
“They are being taken to the city of Myrkul to be given over to eternal torment, I believe,” Raymon answered calmly. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m sure that very soon you will see everything for yourself.”
“I have no doubt,” Midnight muttered gloomily.
– After the servants weed out the souls of the Unfaithful and the Deceitful, the Devotees remain here until the gods take their followers to the Levels to places of eternal rest.
“Then why is the Fugue Plain so crowded with souls?” – Midnight asked, looking around at the crowds wandering around.
Raymon frowned.
“Because this is our last test,” he said. “The gods keep us here to make sure that we are worthy of their mercy.”
“In my opinion, it’s just cruel to abandon loyal followers like that,” Midnight noted.
“They didn’t abandon us,” Ramon immediately objected. “One day they will come for us.”
Midnight did not argue, although it was obvious that Ramon's statement was based only on his faith, and not on knowledge. If the gods truly valued their believers, the number of souls accumulated on the Fugi Plain would have been much smaller.
So another two days of travel passed, but the sorceress did not learn anything new. Finally the crowds began to thin out, and a dark streak appeared on the horizon. Now Midnight had no doubt that the city of Myrkula was getting closer every hour.
Soon the crowds of wandering souls were left behind, and the dark strip on the horizon turned into a black ribbon stretching from one end of the endless plain to the other.
Ramon stopped.
- This is where we part. “I did everything I could,” he said. “Then you will have to go alone.”
Midnight sighed and tried to smile, even though she felt lonely and abandoned again.
“You have done more than enough,” she answered quietly.
“The entrance to the city, as far as I know, is over there,” Ramon continued, pointing to the end of the dark ribbon running to the left. “I brought you here so that you could approach the wall without bumping into the servants going in and out of the city.”
Midnight took Raymon's hand.
“Words cannot express my gratitude,” she said. - I'll miss you.
“And I’m for you,” answered the clergyman. “This is the world of the dead, Midnight,” he added after a short silence. – What may seem cruel and heartless to you is in the order of things here. And no matter what you see in the city of Myrkula, remember where you are. Don't interfere with the ministers' affairs, otherwise you'll never get out of here.
“I will remember this,” the sorceress promised.
- That’s great. “May the gods protect you,” Ramon nodded.
“And may faith never leave you,” answered Midnight.
- I won't lose her. I promise,” said the clergyman and with these words he wandered back.
Midnight turned towards the city and resumed her journey. Two hours later, terrible moans reached the sorceress’s ears, and a light breeze filled her nostrils with the stinking smell of rot. Midnight quickened her pace. Gradually, the groans gave way to a depressing howl, and the fetid, putrid smell intensified, filling everything around. The wall was constantly increasing in size, becoming higher and higher, and Midnight, coming closer, noticed that the surface of the wall was moving and writhing, as if alive.
The sorceress suggested that the wall was made of snakes. This fully explained the absence of sentries. With such a wall already fraught with danger in itself, Myrkul did not need a guard.
Midnight continued to walk forward. Soon only fifty steps separated her from the wall. The oppressive howl turned into a cacophony of muffled sobs; the fetid odor became so strong that it caused nausea. As she approached, the sorceress realized that she had been mistaken about the moving forms that formed the city wall. What Midnight thought were snakes turned out to be many thousands of legs writhing like worms.
The entire wall consisted entirely of human bodies. Rows of interlocking men and women, their heads facing inward, rose fifty feet into the sky. Larger bodies gave the wall volume and height, while smaller bodies plugged up all the cracks and voids. All the bodies were held together by some kind of greenish solution that reminded Midnight of hardened mold.
This ugly barrier almost stopped the sorceress. Confused, she simply stood there for a long time and choked on vomit. The sorceress wanted to climb over the wall, but could not bring herself to approach it. Instead, deciding to use magic again, Midnight cast a flight spell.
At the same moment, she felt her body being lifted off the ground and rising into the air. From time to time the sorceress grabbed someone's leg and straightened the direction of her flight. She soon assumed a recumbent position and hovered a few inches from the top of the wall, pretending to be another of the bodies that made up that eerie enclosure.
A flurry of howls and screams greeted the sorceress. Horrified, she covered her ears with her hands. From the outside of the wall, the cries of death were muffled by the space separating the city of Myrkula from the Fugue Plain, but, rising above the plain, Midnight moved from the sublevel into Hades itself.
The acrid and musty air that reigned here, mixed with rotten meat, tore at the nose and throat with every breath. The dark gray sky hung over the city, plunging it into gloomy twilight. Many tiny, light-emitting holes pierced the gray sky. Recalling Ramon's story, Midnight suggested that these tiny points of light are precisely the gates that connect Myrkul's possessions with various areas of the Kingdoms.
The city itself lay in a huge depression, the slopes of which began at the wall and descended to the distant horizon. The capital of the underworld was so huge that Midnight, even from the top of the wall, could only see a thick haze in which the outlines of the opposite end of the city dissolved.
Not far from Midnight, a wide circular street ran parallel to the city wall. Twenty feet below the sorceress, thirty servants armed with whips, mounted on the backs of slaves, drove a column of hundreds and moved along the road towards Midnight. As the procession passed beneath her, the sorceress noticed that all the slaves were very similar to each other: gray hair, yellowish-gray skin and empty gray eyes. Those carried by slaves, on the contrary, were strikingly different from one another. A woman with straight white teeth, a man with a large nose, a fat old woman with a triple chin.
No matter how much the sorceress wanted to free the slaves, she remembered Raymon’s warnings, advising her not to get involved with the servants. Midnight simply turned away and, when the column was out of sight, began to look at the city again. Beyond the ring road stood countless ten-story brownstone buildings. Once these houses were as similar as two peas in a pod, but millennia of decay have turned them into a mess of a wide variety of shapes. Some have retained their original appearance, but many have fallen into complete disrepair, representing almost an ordinary pile of stones that can collapse at any moment. Others were overgrown with curved minarets and crooked towers, only vaguely reminiscent of the buildings that they once were.
Looking around the buildings, Midnight noticed that the city was divided into districts of more or less equal size. Neighborhoods with decent houses were divided into ordinary neighborhoods by straight and clean streets. But where houses were destroyed, the streets were littered with stone debris and seemed impassable. In areas with crooked and ugly buildings, the streets were crooked and narrow; like snakes, they wriggled and twisted in spirals, creating a kind of labyrinth. However, not a single building looked like Ash Castle, and Midnight was a little confused, not knowing where to start searching.
The sorceress was firmly aware only that first of all she needed to get off the wall. After waiting for another column to pass, Midnight pushed off and, floating in the air, began to descend towards the road running along the wall. Then the sorceress hung in the air for a moment and looked around the area. Behind them, three attendants were hobbling down the road, and in front two more were approaching. Fortunately, both of them were separated from the sorceress by a distance of five hundred steps, so she quickly went down to the street and began to run. A few seconds later, Midnight dove into a block of rickety houses. From the wall it seemed to her completely abandoned.
The streets littered with rubble were empty. From the windows of the houses, hissing yellow lamps threw out uneven circles of light. Walking past one of the lamps, Midnight almost suffocated from the smell of sulfur, and in the place where the black smoke touched her skin, the sorceress felt a burning pain.
Midnight ducked into a narrow alley between the houses and climbed onto a huge pile of stones, half the height of one of the houses. Having rolled down the other slope of the stone mountain, the sorceress ran further along the alley leading to the neighboring street. Finally, confident that the servants would not overtake her, she climbed over another pile of stone rubble and stopped at a dead end.
She needed a guide! In a city of this size, it is impossible to find the Ashes Castle without anyone's help. Even if Midnight knew about the location of the castle, she could easily get lost in a completely unfamiliar city and die. The sorceress realized that she could not act alone.
At that same moment, a spell summoning monsters appeared in Midnight’s mind. It came along with the knowledge of the spell's creator and all the theoretical details of the spell's operation. However, it wasn't monsters that Midnight needed. After thinking a little about the original formula of the spell, the sorceress realized that she could easily change it as she required.
The spell was created to summon any monster to help. Midnight needed a different assistant. The sorceress decided that by changing the movements of her fingers and the tonality of the vocal components of the spell, she could summon someone who would know the city of Myrkul and at the same time would willingly agree to help her.
This was somewhat dangerous, since only sorcerers with experience and magical knowledge could change old ones and create new spells. However, given the knowledge at her disposal and the stability of magic at this level, Midnight believed in her success.
Having carefully checked everything again, the sorceress performed the spell ritual, taking into account the new amendments. A moment later, someone was already climbing onto a pile of stones that blocked the exit from the dead end. Tormented by anticipation, Midnight prepared to hide inside the nearest house in case the stranger was not who she expected to see.
Finally, the figure of a halfling appeared on top of the stones. Having climbed up, he stopped and frowned at the sorceress. The halfling had the same expressionless features that characterized the slaves that Midnight had seen from the city wall: the same gray hair, yellow-gray skin and expressionless gray eyes. In fact, the halfling differed from those slaves only in his height.
Atherton Bochar had no idea how he ended up on this street. Just a moment ago he was working on the construction of a wall, slamming a struggling human body into it.
- Weasel? – Midnight called out, peering uncertainly at the dwarf.
“That’s right,” he nodded. - Who...
The answer appeared in his head before the halfling could finish his question. The woman standing in front of the halfling had once been his friend.
- Midnight! – he exclaimed, going down the stone slope. -What are you doing here?
The sorceress held out her hands to him.
“It’s not at all what you think,” she replied. – I’m still alive.
Midnight's remark that she was alive hurt Slick and he stopped.
“And I died,” he muttered, filled with painful memories. “Why did you let Kayrik kill me?”
Midnight didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected to meet the Weasel here, and she wasn't ready to justify herself to someone Cyric had killed.
“If it were possible to change everything, I would not allow it,” answered the sorceress, lowering her hands.
“It’s little consolation,” hissed the Weasel. - Look how you treated me! - He pointed to his body, running his hand over it.
“Is it my fault that Cyric killed you?” – Midnight exclaimed. – You rushed after him yourself!
– But I couldn’t do otherwise! – said the Weasel, recalling the circumstances of his death and looking away. “He had my sword.” I had to return it, otherwise I would go crazy.
- Why? – Midnight was surprised. She had to sit down to look the halfling in the eye.
“It’s a dangerous, damn thing,” Slick explained, still not looking at Midnight. “When you lose this blade, you are consumed by the need to get it back.” The man I stole the sword from died trying to get it back. Just like I died at the hands of Cyric.
Now Midnight understood why the Weasel ended up in the city of the dead. Following the will of the sword, living only for its sake, the halfling betrayed his deity.
“So you are one of the Lying Ones,” she said, gasping.
The weasel finally turned and looked the sorceress in the eyes.
- Yes, I think so.
– And what does this mean? What is your fate?
The halfling shrugged, then his gaze went away, as if the Weasel cared little about his own fate.
“Now I am one of Myrkul’s slaves.” For all eternity I will wall up the Infidels in the city wall.
Midnight exhaled sharply.
- Why are you so worried? – Weasel asked, turning to her with an expression of irritation on his face. “I thought you were loyal to Mystra.” But for those who were devoted to their gods, it’s not sweet here either. The Fugue Plain is overflowing with the souls of believers abandoned by the gods.
“I’m not worried about myself,” Midnight replied. “A few weeks after Cyric killed you, he killed Adon... and Adon died without believing in any of the gods.
“Then the wall awaits him,” said the Weasel, sadly shaking his head. “Perhaps I will even become one of those who wall him up there.”
- Maybe you can do something...
- No! – the halfling snapped and shook his head. “He chose his own destiny while he was still alive. Now nothing can be changed. If this is what you called me for...
“Not at all,” Midnight said sadly, upset by the halfling’s cruel response. She was afraid that he would not want to help her find the tablet, just as he did not want to help Adon. The sorceress rose to her feet. “You must take me to the Castle of Ashes.”
Weasel's eyes opened wide.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for!” If we get caught...
The halfling fell silent and thought. The servants could not think of a worse punishment for him than the one to which he was now subjected.
“If you don’t help me,” Midnight spoke, taking the halfling by the shoulders, “the Kingdoms will perish.”
- But what does that matter to me? – Rogue backed away. – I’m already in the city of Mirkula anyway.
“Help me get the Stone of Destiny and return it to Waterdeep,” Midnight insisted. “And I will put an end to your suffering.”
The halfling stopped.
- How? – he was surprised.
- I don't know yet. But I will find a way.
The halfling's face showed disbelief.
“Trust me,” Midnight asked. – What do you have to lose?
Of course, the Weasel had nothing to lose. If the servants catch him as Midnight's accomplice, they will subject the halfling to terrible torment, but he is already doomed to eternal suffering.
- OK. “I’ll help you,” nodded the Weasel. “But remember that you made a very important promise.” If you don't keep your word, you may be considered one of the Lying Ones when you find yourself here again.
“I will remember,” Midnight promised. - Let's go.
The weasel turned and, climbing up the pile of stones, began to get out of the dead end. For several hours, the halfling led Midnight through a maze of winding alleys and bustling streets. From time to time they came out into areas of straight and clear avenues, and then the halfling quickly dragged Midnight back into the jungle of crumbling neighborhoods.
Midnight was glad that Slick was her guide. Vaguely, the sorceress understood that he was leading her to the far outskirts of the city, but she would never have gotten there alone. Even the halfling stopped every now and then to ask one of the Lying Ones for the right direction. At the same time, he always questioned two or even three slaves.
“Deceitful people,” explained the halfling, “cannot be trusted.” As is their custom, they will simply direct you to the ministers.
Soon, noticing that Midnight was already stumbling from fatigue, Slick took her to the roof of one of the collapsing houses.
“You need rest,” he said. “You're safe up here.”
“Thank you,” Midnight thanked, lying down and resting her head in her hands.
Looking up at the sky, the sorceress saw tiny, star-like points of light.
“This is the gate to the Kingdoms,” noted the Weasel, looking in the same direction.
- You are sure? – the black-haired sorceress doubted.
She herself came to the same conclusion, but it would not be amiss to be sure of this.
-What else is this? – the halfling shrugged. – There are no stars in the city of Myrkula.
“If these are exits to the Kingdoms,” Midnight asked, turning on her side, “then what prevents the dead and servants from using them?”
The Weasel shook his head:
– What prevents people from going to the real stars? I think they are too far away and there are some obstacles. Better rest - and eat, if you have anything edible.
“I’ll sleep,” Midnight answered, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t eaten anything for at least several days. But it didn't matter. The stench and screams of those condemned to eternal torment completely suppressed my appetite.
Several hours passed, and Midnight and her guide again set off on their way to the lower outskirts of the city. The weasel walked ahead, leading the sorceress mile after mile along noisy avenues and crooked streets. Finally he stopped on some kind of lopsided bridge spanning a river of black mud.
“Almost there,” the halfling noted. -Are you ready?
“Yes,” Midnight nodded.
She was a little worried, but told the honest truth. Thanks to Rogue, after almost a week of traveling around the kingdom of Myrkula, the sorceress still felt cheerful.
The satellites moved on. Walking along a narrow straight street, they turned into a winding alley in one of the destroyed quarters of the city. A few minutes later, a terrible groan was heard from somewhere. The Weasel slowed down and moved forward cautiously. Midnight followed him.
The lane turned sharply to the left. The smell of rot and stench became so thick that Midnight had to cover her nose with her hand. She patted Weasel on the shoulder, and they stopped so that the sorceress could get used to the stench a little. A few moments later they were on their way again. The alley opened onto a wide boulevard, on the other side of which stood another wall of human bodies.
Midnight had already seen a similar sight, but nausea crept up her throat again. This time the sight of the wall both enraged and upset her, since Adon had to share the fate of these unfortunates.
“Here it is, the Castle of Ashes,” said the Weasel and pointed to a tall white spire rising above the wall. - And this is the main tower.
Midnight couldn't believe her eyes. Behind the wall, a spiral tower, built of human bones, rose a hundred feet into the sky and ended in a spire, on which, illuminated by six magical lights and open to everyone's gaze, was a stone tablet. The sorceress immediately recognized it: this tablet was an exact copy of the one that Kelemvar had left.
Like a hunter displaying his trophy, Myrkul placed the plaque where all his subjects could admire it.
- There she is! Midnight whispered.
The Weasel sighed:
- I see. And how are you going to get it?
“I don’t know yet,” answered the sorceress, pondering the situation. – Everything seems too simple - why don’t I see any security?
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that it’s not guarded,” the Weasel warned. “On the contrary, thousands are guarding it.”
- How is this? – Midnight was surprised.
“If the tablet is visible to us, then it is visible to the servants, the dukes, and the princes—everyone who is near the Castle of Dust.”
- Dukes and princes? – Midnight didn’t understand.
– Who do you think controls the servants? – Weasel chuckled. “The dukes rule the districts of the city. Princes rule dukes. And they are all much more ruthless than their vassals.
Midnight nodded. If Myrkul's court is like most others, then there were plenty of dukes and princes at Castle Dust.
– What else can you tell me?
“The best way to protect treasure is to lull the thief, make him believe that the treasure is not guarded, and catch the daring one when he tries to steal it. I think there's some kind of magical trap set there.
Midnight did not bother the Weasel with questions about how he knew so much about theft. In addition, the halfling proved that he was a natural tracker during his lifetime. Many halflings learned the basics of thievery simply to survive. And now it was to Midnight's advantage. Of course, she herself understood that the sign had not been left unattended. The halfling only confirmed the sorceress' suspicions.
- This is all?
“That’s enough,” muttered the Weasel. “A thousand guards and one or two traps will be reliable protection against anyone - unless, of course, you happen to have a large supply of magic at your disposal.”
The sorceress understood that the halfling was trying to support her, reminding her of the omnipotence of magic, and yet Midnight was not very cheerful.
“Let’s hope my magic is enough.” – Thinking over further actions, the sorceress carefully examined the tower. - We will turn into invisible...
“It’s no use,” the Weasel objected. “The servants, especially the dukes, will see through us in no time.”
Midnight frowned and thought again.
- Okay, then we'll fly. I'll disarm the magical traps, then we'll grab the tablet and try to escape.
The Weasel thought for a moment.
- And how long will you tinker with the traps?
He deliberately did not mention himself, knowing that there was no way back to the real world.
“A couple of minutes,” the sorceress answered confidently.
“Too long,” stated the Weasel. - They will rush after you as soon as they see you at the top of the tower, and maybe even earlier...
- What should I do then?
“Come up with something better,” the halfling advised. “You won’t be able to keep your promise if you’re captured.”
Midnight fell into a long silence.
“This is what should work,” she said finally. “First I’ll prepare an escape route.” Then, instead of flying to get the sign myself, I'll move it here. And we will disappear.
“It could work,” agreed the Weasel. - Well, you don’t need my help, and I’m leaving...
-Are you leaving? – Midnight was surprised. -Won't you come with me?
“No,” Rogue shook his head. - I died. In the Kingdoms I will become a resurrected dead man, and I will look much more pathetic than here.
Midnight took the halfling's hand.
– But you helped the Kingdoms, don’t you want to...
“I don’t care about the Kingdoms,” interrupted the Weasel. The halfling couldn't forget that Midnight would get out of here, but he wouldn't. - Remember your promise.
Pulling his hand away, the Weasel walked away. Midnight looked after him, embarrassed and offended by his sudden coldness.
“I will remember you,” she shouted.
The weasel turned the corner and disappeared.
Midnight stood there a little longer, feeling alone again and a little scared. The Enchantress silently swore that after returning the Stones of Destiny to Helm, she would find a way to help the Weasel - and not only because she promised him this.
But first he had to take the tablet and get out of the city of the dead. The sorceress caused a “passage to the worlds”, which Elminster often used. Then, remembering what Raymon had told her about finding a way to Waterdeep, she began to dissect the spell into its component parts to see how Elminster put them together.
It took Midnight about fifteen minutes of concentrated thought to understand the complex structure of the spell. It took another fifteen minutes to change the spell and create an exit to Waterdeep. But even after that, Midnight doubted that the portal would lead her straight to the city. If the sorceress knew which of the points of light was the gate to Waterdeep, everything would be much simpler. But Midnight had to trust that she had done her best and trust in providence.
Satisfied with the result of her efforts, Midnight cast a spell of passage to the worlds. A huge wave of magical energy overwhelmed the sorceress, depriving her body of strength. However, this did not surprise or even frighten Midnight, who understood how enormous an amount of magical energy the spell required.
A flickering disk appeared in the air. Midnight suddenly had a desire to see what was on the other side of the disk, but she could not waste time on empty experiments. The sorceress cast a transfer spell and performed the ritual, targeting the spell at the tablet. A moment later, the Stone of Destiny separated from the spire and rose into the air.
Wasting no time, Midnight ordered the sign to fly towards her. At first the sign moved slowly, but then it picked up speed and quickly rushed towards the sorceress. Although Midnight heard nothing but the groans of the Infidels walled up in the wall, she still clearly imagined a deafening chorus of surprised screams and furious screams scattered throughout the quarters adjacent to the castle.
And, as confirmation of her suspicions, Midnight saw something rising from behind the wall. Huge, bat-like wings grew from the creature’s fat body. With many eyes and fangs protruding from its mouth, the creature resembled a cross between a vampire and a fly.
The sign came closer and Midnight quickly grabbed it. At that same moment, the sorceress felt a spell of such power that it was possible to recognize it even without resorting to the help of spells. Something was wrong, for the tablet did not have its own magical aura. Then the sorceress decided that Myrkul cast a spell directly on the Stone of Destiny.
But that hardly mattered now. A dozen more servants appeared after the first creature, and a hundred more figures stepped out from behind the tower. Midnight simply didn't have time to take a closer look at the sign.
The sorceress stepped into the disk and found herself running down a short corridor of bright light. The last time she used this spell, she simply walked through the disk and ended up in the Fugue Plain. There was no tunnel at that time. Midnight was overcome with fear. She was afraid that with her corrections she had ruined Elminster's spell.
Then, thirty steps ahead, Midnight saw water covering the exit of the tunnel in a smooth circle, as if a sorceress was running along the wall of a well. Remembering that the spell had been changed and took her straight to Waterdeep, Midnight decided that the spell had worked too literally. Toril began behind the water wall.
Midnight ran the last part of the way and stopped near the water. Turning back, she tried to close the passage. The flickering disk remained in the same place, and at the other end of the tunnel the winged monster from the Castle of Ashes had already appeared. Midnight tried once again to close the passage and failed again.
Baring his fangs, the winged creature smiled.
“It won’t close,” the monster rasped in a voice as if someone was scraping stone with iron. “Where the sign goes, we go.”
Two more monsters climbed into the tunnel.
- But why? – Midnight was amazed.
- Doesn't matter! – answered the winged creature. - Return the sign!
And then Midnight understood everything. The enchantment she sensed on the tablet was one of Myrkul's traps. He made sure that no one could steal the tablet, avoiding the pursuit of the guards. The Lord of Dust could use various spell options, turning the tablet into a beacon for his subordinates.
However, what kind of spell Myrkul used did not matter now. The most important thing was that, by taking the tablet with him to Waterdeep, Midnight would open the way for Myrkul's hordes - the stone would keep the passage open for servants and attract them. The sorceress could not allow this.
Midnight realized that she had to block the tunnel, and the corresponding spell immediately came to her. The result of the spell was supposed to be a spherical prism, a geometric body sparkling with different colors, which the servants would not be able to penetrate. Grinding and scratching the outer walls of the prism with their claws, they will remain outside while Midnight takes cover behind it.
“Last chance, woman,” said the winged monster, coming closer. -You can't leave.
“You’re wrong,” Midnight muttered and cast a spell.
A sparkling prism surrounded the sorceress, simultaneously blocking the passage to Waterdeep.
Midnight's whole body seemed to be on fire, and her head ached so badly that the sorceress almost lost her mind. Of the most powerful spells known to magicians, Midnight had used two in the last few minutes, which had a bad effect on her powers. However, it didn't matter. The sorceress will be safe as long as the prism holds. And this will last a long time.