Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу Myth of Ivaar. True story?
Ida Barieva
Myth of Ivaar
True story?
Fonts by «ParaType»
Translator Publishing house "Editus"
© Ida Barieva, 2018
© Publishing house "Editus", translation, 2018
If you think you know everything about the creation of the Universe — you are wrong. Probably, you have a watch on your wrist. Do you know what it measures? Do you strongly believe in history books, facts, and evidence? In this case, your knowledge of the world is outdated.
What and who do you believe in? What doctrines do you use to manage your life? Don’t you think it’s time to take another outlook and listen to yourself after that? What would you hear?
ISBN 978-5-4485-9279-9
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Contents
- Myth of Ivaar
- Introduction
- Foreword
- Chapter 1. I want to tell you how the Universe was created
- Chapter 2. In the beginning there was no beginning
- Chapter 3. A trap with no exit
- Chapter 4. Worlds inside worlds
- Chapter 5. Foreseeing everything
- Chapter 6. History throwbacks and what happens after it
- Chapter 7. Ivaar
- “Hurricane”
Introduction
If you think you know everything about the creation of the Universe — you are wrong. Probably, you have a watch on your wrist. Do you know what it measures? Do you strongly believe in history books, facts, and evidence? In this case, your knowledge of the world is outdated.
What and who do you believe in? What doctrines do you use to manage your life? Don’t you think it’s time to take another outlook and listen to yourself after that? What would you hear?
The story’s genre is defined as fantasy, but it’s not quite fantasy. Even not quite a myth. Moreover, I wouldn’t say it is entertaining literature, although inquisitive-minded readers would be able to find a lot of interesting in it. I just find it difficult to say what it is. Maybe, those who provided me with information for writing know it. Or maybe, you know?
Foreword
Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding, find out what you already know, and you’ll see the way to fly.
(Richard Bach)
If you expect the book to explain every trifle, this story is not for you as well if you appreciate the form more than the content. If you adore patterns, stereotypes and only things with a long-term formal background — why do you need superfluous knowledge? Whom is this story for? It is for those who want to know the very beginning, the course of history and the forecasts. It is for those who want to read about people, gods, and mages, about matters and strange formulas of the universe. We can say, it is for looking into an alternative branch of the worldview and thinking about it. The forecasts can come true or not. It depends on you as well. And if someone says that you cannot change anything, do not believe. Because it is now when you can change everything. But do you want to?
The story’s genre is defined as fantasy, but it’s not quite fantasy. Even not quite a myth. And I wouldn’t say it is entertaining literature, although inquisitive-minded readers would be able to find a lot of interesting things in it. I just find it difficult to say what it is. Maybe, those who provided me with information for writing know it despite the wish to remain anonymous (basically, it was one person). Since the knowledge is not mine initially and I have no facts or evidences in my hands, the genre is defined as “fantasy”, which is the genre of pure imagination. Therefore, there will be only one answer to all questions regarding the myth (especially on “Ivaar”) — “I can’t tell you the truth, and I don’t want to lie.” And if I suddenly say otherwise, it means that it was said “at gunpoint” and should not be trusted.
What else can I say? The world is imperfect, but if it were perfect, if we were perfect, if everything were invented and done not to let anything new ever happen, and even dreams were left in the past… are you sure this world would be perfect?
The book is a tribute to two mysterious informers, a person who helped me to write this myth and all people without exception.
Best regards,
Ida Barieva
Chapter 1. I want to tell you how the Universe was created
The bright sun blazed between maple leaves casting gracious shade upon a children’s playground near a village of seven houses. Or there were eight? Does it matter? In this world (unlike the usual one), exact figures and deadlines became not so important after…
“Mom, look!” a strong girl with violet eyes pointed her finger at a white-haired wrinkled old woman in canvas robe who came up to the playground.
There were eight children who stopped playing at once and stared at her with their eyes full of curiosity, and two parents: a man with deep-set eyes, broad smile, rough hands, and a pencil behind his ear, and a slim woman with kind eyes and a pack of children’s albums in her hands. Nearby, there was a small group of young men sitting on benches arranged in semicircle at a wooden swing. One of them, a tall, fair-haired young man with spring-sky eyes had an m-kithara, and its pensive melody flew over the ground like a lone crane. Many of them had beautiful bracelets on their hands: blue, purple, yellow ones…
“Good day,” the woman greeted the old lady politely. “You’ve just come to us, haven’t you? Do you want some compote drink? Delicious, just yesterday made of baari berries. The duck…” she sniffed the air with slight smell of meat in it, “will be in about a dourt. Take a seat, please.”
“Thank you,” the old lady smiled and sat down on the offered bench. It was carved, wooden, same as everything around. “I’d be glad, but not before I merit this treat. I want to tell you a story, and I hope you will find it interesting.”
“Merit? What do you mean?” the woman threw back a lock of nut-brown hair from her forehead. “You’ve just come, I haven’t seen you in our village or nearby. It means that you’ve come from afar. Of course, you are hungry. And thirsty. Am I right? You don’t have to ‘merit’ anything.”
“You know, all of this doesn’t matter,” the old lady laughed with a deep laughter, which no one present had ever heard before. The sounds of the m-kithara subsided, and the young men listened to the newcomer. The old lady smiled as they approached. “Still, you’re right, I have really made a long way. Tell me, are there only people among you?”
“I’m grayence” the girl with the violet eyes who was the first to notice her snapped out at once. “My name is Alaya. What’s yours?”
“I’m Nia,” the old lady smiled. “Call me Nia.”
“I’m a mage, but not grayence” the guy with the m-kithara intervened. “I’m not sure you are interested in my name, but I am from a sunlight mage family. I’m local, we can say.”
“A gray maginess and a young mage,” Nia nodded in satisfaction. “In the world one turnover earlier, you would be called peoplewith paranormal abilities and I’m interested in everything — in your name as well.”
“They would call us people?!” Alaya rounded her eyes.
“Yes, they would,” the mage sighed. “The grayences don’t go to the Higher School of Magic, either light or dark one, so you luckily don’t have to cram up the history of turnovered worlds as even our history in which the mages were originally called this way,” he grimaced and sighed. “And my name is Kir.”
“Is the history of turnovered worlds taught in the higher school of magic?” Old Nia seemed to be somewhat disappointed. “Do they teach you a lot there? Can you tell me? I wouldn’t like to impart things that you already know better than me.”
“Tell me, and me!” the children started begging.
“Really, Kir, tell us,” the woman asked seriously. “You come to us for as long as I can remember. And you’ve never told us about those turnovered worlds.”
“Is it interesting for you?” he was really surprised, but gave in seeing excited nods. “Well… our planet is not the only one in the universe, do you know that?” More nods followed. “And our world is not the only one. Very seldom, displacement mages manage to get to other worlds. We call them turnovered worlds, but previously they were called parallel ones. I say “previously”, because once, in the pre-magical era, when there was no magic in our world either…
“It’s nonsense!” Alaya snorted.
“Excuse me, please, Kir, are you sure?” the woman interrupted him. “How could people like us live without mages like you?”
“I’m sure,” he nodded. “The History of Mages, volume one. There were no normal dates, the time was not measured by turns, dourts and heartbeats. Our family appeared at that time, it is one of the oldest in the world!” The last words sounded proudly, his shoulders straightened, and luster appeared in his eyes looking bored before. “It was the time when fundamental union arose between the ordinary people and the people with paranormal abilities, or just people and mages. The first ones depend on the second ones, and vice versa. However, fourteen turnovered worlds found by our displacement mages throughout the history are still different. There are only people and very few mages who are immediately engaged by people’s special services for their purposes,” he sighed, “but even more often they are treated by usual doctors doing their best to convert the paranormal people into just normal ones. Neither they, nor their magic have opportunities to develop (or even worse). Do you know the main difference between the people and the mages?”
“Mages have magic abilities, and people don’t, right?” intervened a young ordinary girl with hair of raven-wing color.
“The people have one body, and the mages have two, in ordinary and magical spaces. Mom, am I right?” Alaya puffed out her lower lip.
“Y-yes, I think,” the woman confirmed hesitatingly. “Kir, you promised to tell us about the turnovered worlds.”
“They are… just other worlds that differ from our one by a history turn,” Kir’s voice became halting. “It means that a key event happened in some world radically changing the course of its history, which made a kind of turn. Each of these turns means that the world is divided into two: the one where the event has happened, and the other one where it has not, or happened in another way. The original world continues to exist, and the other one becomes like… it is called the turnovered world.”
“Which one is original — where it has happened or where it has not?” Alaya wondered crossing hands on her chest.
“I don’t know. No one knows. The displacement mages do not even understand what events make the history turn. We just keep notes on the histories of the turnovered worlds and that’s it,” Kir looked at Nia. “Maybe, you know?”
“Yes, I do,” she nodded. “But tell me first, do you know how the worlds are created? How has everything appeared in the world and beyond its boundaries?”
The children gasped in different voices and moved closer. The girl with black hair snorted. The man and the woman exchanged glances. Kir rubbed his cheek that had twitched.
“I hope, there is nothing forbidden to hear for the children?” the man decided to make it clear and touched the pencil behind his ear.
“Aren’t you told about this yet? I am a little lost among the worlds, where ‘Ivaar’ was written and where it was not.”
“Ivaar” is a myth,” the girl snorted. “Besides… no one really knows anything about it! People say that the Heavenlians’ doctrine of the Great Archmage is somehow related to it. And that’s all. “Ivaar” is a myth. Like ancient Greek myths.”
“Exactly”, Nia nodded. “Do you know anything about that country, Ancient Greece? What is the world where it began its existence?”
“What?” The girl widened her eyes. “It has never existed! What we know about it is just a set of myths about some “gods” having fun. Foolish mages’ dreams about the power they never had!”
“Do you mean that the whole country has moved between the worlds? Like our displacement mages travel through the turnovered worlds?” Kir gave a guess.
“Ancient Greece is a myth itself!” Alaya cried out.
“It was a country of people… who fabulated many myths. Am I right?” The man put his hand into his hair, the pencil fell to the ground, but the man seemed not to notice it.
“All of you are right and wrong,” Nia smiled. “Perhaps I should start from the very beginning. Otherwise, everything I want to tell you would seem to be not the myth of Ivaar, but simply raving of a crazy old woman. I want to tell you how the Universewas created.”
“I’d rather take the children away,” the woman said quickly. “Wait for me, please. These stories are not for children.”
“Do you really think so? Don’t children have the right to know the truth? Still, as you wish,” Nia said politely. “May Alaya… stay?”
“And me! And me!” the children started shouting together.
“Mom, I’m staying!” Alaya flashed her violet eyes. “You’ll not be able to move me out!”
“I’ll be,” Kir said softly. “If Mom says that this story is not for children, it is not for children.”
The woman put the pack of albums on the bench, gathered a group of discontented children, and led them away. When they were already gone, Alaya stuck out her serious face from behind Nia’s canvas sleeve. The man moved to catch her, but Kir stopped him with a gesture.
“Alaya…” he began earnestly.
“She has a right to know,” Nia said. “She’s not just a child. She’s a gray maginess. The mages have no human childhood since the mages are not quite people.
She repeated the same to her mother when she returned and tried to take Alaya away from the strange stories. Still, after a short dispute, the girl stayed and teased Kir by putting her tongue out. He kindly laughed back and showed her the “horns”. The girl snorted, and everyone started making quiet noise anticipating an amusing story. However, Nia wrinkled her forehead as if making some decision.
“In the beginning there was no beginning…” she finally said in a serious voice.