Page 1 of 85

© Perumov N.D., 2017

© Design. LLC "Publishing house" E "", 2017

Prologue I
Wings blacker than the sky

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

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

And now a chain of torches stretched more often from these huts to the woven gray curtain. Away from the outskirts, barns and rigs, from pastures - to a hill at the very edge of the forest, where, barely visible in the darkness, seven stone pillars-monoliths rose, set here in times so old that even scholars-scribes, if they happen here and hear the question of the age of the temple, they would only shrug.

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

And it was surprisingly numerous for this time of day.

Places here, on the border of the Wastewood, have never been distinguished by peace and tranquility. Robbery gangs rummaged around, monsters wandered through the thickets, who do not care whether to devour the cattle or its owners. And so that the claps themselves climbed somewhere into the darkness at night? What happened to them, why all of a sudden such fearlessness?

In front of all six hefty men in homespun trousers and shirts, sniffing busily, dragged on their shoulders something wrapped in gray linen, tied over anything that came to hand - belts, ropes, even a fishing net - and desperately kicking.

- Hush, witch! - One of the draggers stuck his pood fist where he had to. From the cocoon there was a scream and immediately - a furious hiss.

“Nothing, Radovan,” boomed another porter. - Little one at all. And there, to the pillar, and ... a little heel smokes, he immediately learns how to conjure!

- I did not conjure! came from the depths of the bundle. - Uncle Mikhas! Well uncle Mikhas! You know me!

“Me too, my nephew turned up,” the broad-shouldered peasant, who spoke to Radovan, hurriedly began to frequent. - You don’t go into my family, you witch’s offspring! .. You ruined the cow, the cursed witch! She took out a pregnant pig!

- Minka small betrayed a fierce death ... - another one entered.

- Drag, drag, there is nothing to base here. When we put it on the fire, then we will begin to list her guilt to the witch.

- Exactly! – someone tall and skinny, in a long brown robe, either a local priest or an itinerant preacher, entered the conversation. “Let us credit the witch for her crimes!” Let him repent in the fiery font, on the edge of death! Let be…

“Forgive me, Reverend,” Radovan interrupted the priest. We have arrived, however.

- Hm. That's right, yes, come, son. Nice place, clean and tidy. You kept your idols in order, well done, my children, I praise. There are few places where the Ancient Gods are now properly worshiped, as you are - that's why they all have disasters, apostates! And the witch - let's get her here, to the brushwood! Yes, tie it to a pole, by the elbows, like this!

The monoliths adorned narrow-eyed faces roughly carved right 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 some kind of smoky one. At its foot was a huge heap of firewood, surrounded on all sides by bundles of brushwood.

It was to this post that six porters began to fasten their wheezing, hissing load like a wild cat.

- Hurry, kid! For witches burn well precisely 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 old women, probably the entire population of the village.

- Then take the bag off her! Now listen, witch, to the list of your villains! – raising his voice, with unexpected shrill notes announced the priest. “For you are a vessel of alien abominations, a vessel of me...

He wanted to say something else, but at that moment something rustled over the heads of the crowd. From above, an invisible ice wave, the cold breath of winter, seemed to have collapsed.

- A-a-a-a! Flying, flying! squealed a young woman.

- 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 merrily, rushing up to the girl huddled in the bonds.

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

"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 going to burn here at night looking? Wait, wait, let me guess - la sorcière? Witch? Which, of course, spoiled crops with its witchcraft, caused the loss of livestock, miscarriages in pregnant women, maybe even the death of perfectly healthy children at first glance?

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

The bound girl screamed as she sat down wildly.

The creature next to her grinned viciously, hissed.

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

With one jump, he jumped off a pile of flaming firewood, his clothes smoldering in many places were smoking, long pointed fangs were clearly visible in the dark cut of his mouth.

- Womper! yelled one of the more courageous men.

Perhaps the villagers should have fled in horror at the sight of such fear; but at that time a strong and stocky people lived in the Hollow Forest, although they were poor and oppressed by labors. Many came to the court not only with torches, but also with axes, and with pointed stakes, and with pitchforks, and with flails, and with all sorts of similar weapons, at which only one who has never had to be under his blows can laugh.

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

- Friendly, everyone! - the same uncle Mikhas barked. - From all sides of the womper press!

The vampire looked around quickly, so quickly that hardly anyone could see his movement. For some reason, he could not throw himself back into 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

© Perumov N.D., 2017

© Design. LLC "Publishing house" E "", 2017

Wings blacker than the sky

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

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

And now a chain of torches stretched more often from these huts to the woven gray curtain. Away from the outskirts, barns and rigs, from pastures - to a hill at the very edge of the forest, where, barely visible in the darkness, seven stone pillars-monoliths rose, set here in times so old that even scholars-scribes, if they happen here and hear the question of the age of the temple, they would only shrug.

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

And it was surprisingly numerous for this time of day.

Places here, on the border of the Wastewood, have never been distinguished by peace and tranquility. Robbery gangs rummaged around, monsters wandered through the thickets, who do not care whether to devour the cattle or its owners. And so that the claps themselves climbed somewhere into the darkness at night? What happened to them, why all of a sudden such fearlessness?

In front of all six hefty men in homespun trousers and shirts, sniffing busily, dragged on their shoulders something wrapped in gray linen, tied over anything that came to hand - belts, ropes, even a fishing net - and desperately kicking.

- Hush, witch! - One of the draggers stuck his pood fist where he had to. From the cocoon there was a scream and immediately - a furious hiss.

“Nothing, Radovan,” boomed another porter. - Little one at all. And there, to the pillar, and ... a little heel smokes, he immediately learns how to conjure!

- I did not conjure! came from the depths of the bundle. - Uncle Mikhas! Well uncle Mikhas! You know me!

“Me too, my nephew turned up,” the broad-shouldered peasant, who spoke to Radovan, hurriedly began to frequent. - You don’t go into my family, you witch’s offspring! .. You ruined the cow, the cursed witch! She took out a pregnant pig!

- Minka small betrayed a fierce death ... - another one entered.

- Drag, drag, there is nothing to base here. When we put it on the fire, then we will begin to list her guilt to the witch.

- Exactly! – someone tall and skinny, in a long brown robe, either a local priest or an itinerant preacher, entered the conversation. “Let us credit the witch for her crimes!” Let him repent in the fiery font, on the edge of death! Let be…

“Forgive me, Reverend,” Radovan interrupted the priest. We have arrived, however.

- Hm. That's right, yes, come, son. Nice place, clean and tidy. You kept your idols in order, well done, my children, I praise. There are few places where the Ancient Gods are now properly worshiped, as you are - that's why they all have disasters, apostates! And the witch - let's get her here, to the brushwood! Yes, tie it to a pole, by the elbows, like this!

The monoliths adorned narrow-eyed faces roughly carved right 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 some kind of smoky one. At its foot was a huge heap of firewood, surrounded on all sides by bundles of brushwood.

It was to this post that six porters began to fasten their wheezing, hissing load like a wild cat.

- Hurry, kid! For witches burn well precisely 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 old women, probably the entire population of the village.

- Then take the bag off her! Now listen, witch, to the list of your villains! – raising his voice, with unexpected shrill notes announced the priest. “For you are a vessel of alien abominations, a vessel of me...

He wanted to say something else, but at that moment something rustled over the heads of the crowd. From above, an invisible ice wave, the cold breath of winter, seemed to have collapsed.

- A-a-a-a! Flying, flying! squealed a young woman.

- 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 merrily, rushing up to the girl huddled in the bonds.

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

"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 going to burn here at night looking? Wait, wait, let me guess - la sorcière? Witch? Which, of course, spoiled crops with its witchcraft, caused the loss of livestock, miscarriages in pregnant women, maybe even the death of perfectly healthy children at first glance?

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

The bound girl screamed as she sat down wildly.

The creature next to her grinned viciously, hissed.

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

With one jump, he jumped off a pile of flaming firewood, his clothes smoldering in many places were smoking, long pointed fangs were clearly visible in the dark cut of his mouth.

- Womper! yelled one of the more courageous men.

Perhaps the villagers should have fled in horror at the sight of such fear; but at that time a strong and stocky people lived in the Hollow Forest, although they were poor and oppressed by labors. Many came to the court not only with torches, but also with axes, and with pointed stakes, and with pitchforks, and with flails, and with all sorts of similar weapons, at which only one who has never had to be under his blows can laugh.

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

Nick Perumov

Hunters. Megaliths of the Empire

© Perumov N., 2017

© Design. LLC "Publishing House" E ", 2017

Synopsis, or What happened before?

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

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

An old vampire hunter, a master, and his young apprentice are on the trail of a ghoul who killed the daughter of Prince Predslav. To take a vampire is a difficult matter, they are much stronger and faster than any person; one has to rely on cunning, complex traps, traps and alchemical drugs, which are brewed by a good friend of the master, 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 not just like that, but to meet with a certain sorcerer, with whom he performed the ritual of summoning the real demon himself, and the wizard and the ghoul seemed to help each other each other, and learned from each other.

In a short fight, the ghoul - who turned out to be a ghoul - was severely crippled, but managed to hook the master with his claws, easily injure 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 pact. Mages are interested in the ability of vampires to summon demons from another world and control them to a certain extent. Vampires needed sophisticated, refined enchantments to control demons that ghouls could not develop on their own.

Having released the sorceress on all four sides, the master and apprentice with all haste went back. The striga was bound to return, as soon as she regenerates and gets rid of her wounds.

And she returned, but not alone. Two more young ghouls, and with them the High Vampire who turned them all, Venkevillana, known as the Scarlet Lady.

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

With great difficulty, the master drove the mortally wounded student to the city of Predslavl, where, having received the news, Master Bonaventure hurried 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 disaster, a magician was required.

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

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

Benjamin did not immediately understand the purpose of the visit of the sorceress. And she came, no less, to ask for his assistance in some mysterious, but very important project of the Chapter, where vampires participated. Maitre Skorra allegedly prevented the sorcerers by sending out some homunculi who killed the ghouls so valuable to the project.

Of course, Maitre Skorre denied everything.

It is not known how much longer the verbal duels of former lovers would have continued, however, a strange fluctuation arose in the ley lines that conduct magical power through the flesh of the world. Benjamin and Alisande followed the trail that led them to the old temple of the worshipers of Chaos. And a strange goat-legged creature burst out of it, easily avoiding combat spells and declaring that it had come here to announce the imminent end of the world and the embodiment of the unknown Prophecies of Destruction.

Having easily fought off the magician and the sorceress, the goat-legged creature disappeared.

Alisande longed to get him at all costs, to capture him, to interrogate him. And for this she turned to her, as she put it, "situational allies" - vampires.

Tracking down the goat-footed creature with a sophisticated spell, Alysande and Benjamin opened two portals for a pair of vampires who appeared, leading directly to the goat-footed 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 ghoul Beata grabbed the book from the hands of the sorceress 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 was becoming clear that the Chapter's original plan had failed. Now it was necessary to understand what these Prophecies of Destruction were, and to repel a new threat.

Lines run along the parchment, even, as if on a ruler. The pen dances in thin fingers, eyes of a strange amber color look into the written tensely and attentively. Lined up in a neat sequence of symbols, they have no resemblance to any common alphabet. Few people know that the girl, known in the Order of the Peterians as Magda, mixes three dead languages ​​\u200b\u200bin her report, superimposing them on the grammar of the fourth. The "letters" that make up the letter are not used by anyone except the brothers and sisters of the Order.

If this message fell into the wrong hands, even the sorcerers of the Congregation, they would have to work hard to decipher.

"Your Eminence,

The first part of the work has been successfully completed. Tests have shown consistently reproducible results. In the near future we will subject the received final verification. Our friends point to some target, perhaps known to your Eminence; I do not dare to entrust a concrete determination of the goal even to this message. The eradication of this goal is in the interests of our friends, because it is connected with the opposition rendered to them; it will not bring us any benefits or losses. I suppose to agree with the arguments of our friends.

northern tract

Of course, the master thought, traveling in such a stagecoach is much more pleasant than on the back of a monitor lizard. Easy 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 Philosophical Sciences, Master Bonaventure, for a change, left the dissection of vampire heads and undertook to feed his patient, who was in a strange semi-conscious state.

“The Morrigan is the creation of the Scarlet Lady. The fat man was standing next to the fixed stretcher. Now we can say with complete certainty. And Gregor and Peter too. All are relatively fresh. Morrigan is younger, the other two are no more than five or six years old. However… I still have to do more research… there’s something about their excretions that I don’t like about all four of them. And the freshest one, which you, my friend, broke first with a student, and the rest of the trio. Atypical. But here, in the field, I can only make the most superficial analysis. Here you will not make the correct conjunction or putrification. He sighed. “Eat, eat, poor fellow. You eat well... but with everything else... A real magician is needed, oh, so needed.

The master was silent.

“In general, it is confirmed,” Bonaventure continued meanwhile. “The Scarlet Lady creates one ghoul after another. And they really do have ... vigorous ichor, forgive me this turnover. The bones, the shape, the volume of the glands themselves are like those of young vampires, but in terms of excreta, if I'm not mistaken, of course, they will give odds to old people. Our Red Ghoul is strong, what can I say.

“I have already heard this,” the master could not resist. “So what are we going to do about it now?” “Destroy it” is easy to say, of course; how do you track it down? How? Today she is here, tomorrow she is there - she wanders all over the Straits, as far as I understand!

Bonaventure concentratedly fed the wounded man for some more time, not answering the irritated hunter. Then he put down the bowl and plopped down on his favorite couch with a sigh.

- You're right, my friend, you can only run into her by chance, like you, for example. And if you chase after her, you just run through your whole life in vain.

But do you have a plan? - The master really wanted to close his eyes and not think about anything, surrendering to the smooth rocking of the stagecoach. Close your eyes and sleep. Sleep is our last refuge...

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

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

An old vampire hunter, a master, and his young apprentice are on the trail of a ghoul who killed the daughter of Prince Predslav. To take a vampire is a difficult matter, they are much stronger and faster than any person; one has to rely on cunning, complex traps, traps and alchemical drugs, which are brewed by a good friend of the master, 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 not just like that, but to meet with a certain sorcerer, with whom he performed the ritual of summoning the real demon himself, and the wizard and the ghoul seemed to help each other each other, and learned from each other.

In a short fight, the ghoul - who turned out to be a ghoul - was severely crippled, but managed to hook the master with his claws, easily injure 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 pact. Mages are interested in the ability of vampires to summon demons from another world and control them to a certain extent. Vampires needed sophisticated, refined enchantments to control demons that ghouls could not develop on their own.

Having released the sorceress on all four sides, the master and apprentice with all haste went back. The striga was bound to return, as soon as she regenerates and gets rid of her wounds.

And she returned, but not alone. Two more young ghouls, and with them the High Vampire who turned them all, Venkevillana, known as the Scarlet Lady.

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

With great difficulty, the master drove the mortally wounded student to the city of Predslavl, where, having received the news, Master Bonaventure hurried 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 disaster, a magician was required.

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

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

Benjamin did not immediately understand the purpose of the visit of the sorceress. And she came, no less, to ask for his assistance in some mysterious, but very important project of the Chapter, where vampires participated. Maitre Skorra allegedly prevented the sorcerers by sending out some homunculi who killed the ghouls so valuable to the project.

Of course, Maitre Skorre denied everything.

It is not known how much longer the verbal duels of former lovers would have continued, however, a strange fluctuation arose in the ley lines that conduct magical power through the flesh of the world. Benjamin and Alisande followed the trail that led them to the old temple of the worshipers of Chaos. And a strange goat-legged creature burst out of it, easily avoiding combat spells and declaring that it had come here to announce the imminent end of the world and the embodiment of the unknown Prophecies of Destruction.

Having easily fought off the magician and the sorceress, the goat-legged creature disappeared.

Alisande longed to get him at all costs, to capture him, to interrogate him. And for this she turned to her, as she put it, "situational allies" - vampires.

Tracking down the goat-footed creature with a sophisticated spell, Alysande and Benjamin opened two portals for a pair of vampires who appeared, leading directly to the goat-footed 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 ghoul Beata grabbed the book from the hands of the sorceress 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 was becoming clear that the Chapter's original plan had failed. Now it was necessary to understand what these Prophecies of Destruction were, and to repel a new threat.

Lines run along the parchment, even, as if on a ruler. The pen dances in thin fingers, eyes of a strange amber color look into the written tensely and attentively. Lined up in a neat sequence of symbols, they have no resemblance to any common alphabet. Few people know that the girl, known in the Order of the Peterians as Magda, mixes three dead languages ​​\u200b\u200bin her report, superimposing them on the grammar of the fourth. The "letters" that make up the letter are not used by anyone except the brothers and sisters of the Order.

If this message fell into the wrong hands, even the sorcerers of the Congregation, they would have to work hard to decipher.

"Your Eminence,

The first part of the work has been successfully completed. Tests have shown consistently reproducible results. In the near future we will subject the received final verification. Our friends point to some target, perhaps known to your Eminence; I do not dare to entrust a concrete determination of the goal even to this message. The eradication of this goal is in the interests of our friends, because it is connected with the opposition rendered to them; it will not bring us any benefits or losses. I suppose to agree with the arguments of our friends.

Magda.

Of course, the master thought, traveling in such a stagecoach is much more pleasant than on the back of a monitor lizard. Easy 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 Philosophical Sciences, Master Bonaventure, for a change, left the dissection of vampire heads and undertook to feed his patient, who was in a strange semi-conscious state.

“The Morrigan is the creation of the Scarlet Lady. The fat man was standing next to the fixed stretcher. Now we can say with complete certainty. And Gregor and Peter too. All are relatively fresh. Morrigan is younger, the other two are no more than five or six years old. However… I still have to do more research… there’s something about their excretions that I don’t like about all four of them. And the freshest one, which you, my friend, broke first with a student, and the rest of the trio. Atypical. But here, in the field, I can only make the most superficial analysis. Here you will not make the correct conjunction or putrification. He sighed. “Eat, eat, poor fellow. You eat well... but with everything else... A real magician is needed, oh, so needed.

In the centuries-old war between humans and vampires, an unexpected turn comes when peacekeepers are on both sides of the barricades, ready to try to find a common 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 by Nika Perumov"
416 pages, 15,000 copies.
Tales of the Orderly, Part 1, Book 1
Similar to:
Barb Handy, J.S. Handy, Dampier cycle
Peter W. Brett "Tagged"

The large-scale epic novel "The Death of the Gods 2", on which he has been actively working for 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 mean farewell to the universe of the Ordered. 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 epic in scope: among 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 a thing - by the standards of the cycle, this is a very intimate work.

The action takes place in a single world where we have not looked before. The plot revolves around a local conflict between humans and the Night Folk. The main characters are the local inhabitants: a nameless vampire hunter with an apprentice, the sorcerer Veniamin Skorre, waging his own war against vampires, his former lover Alisande du Vargas, seeking to put an end to the enmity between the two peoples. Of course, you can’t call them ordinary people, but they are clearly not in the same “weight category” as, for example, Hedin or even Fess.

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

The first "Tale of the Orderly" cannot be attributed to the epic fantasy for which Perumov is famous

From time to time, Nick slows down the narrative slightly to give the characters a lengthy discussion of what is happening; In recent years, the characters of most of Perumov's books have been distinguished by their addiction to wordy conversations, and the characters in The Hunters were no exception. Oddly enough, at the same time, the author reveals the world of the book rather weakly: in terms of elaboration and the number of details, he significantly loses to Melin or Evial. Moreover, if it were not 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 be difficult to guess that the events of "Hunters" unfold in the universe familiar to us from "God's End" and "Chronicles of the Rift". However, the weak connection with the main cycle is fully compensated by the fact that the “Prophecies of Destruction” can be easily read even without acquaintance with Perumov's previous novels.

However, if you really want to complain about anything after reading The 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 perhaps the antagonist, the Scarlet Lady. Obviously, the author sought to move away from the now fashionable tendency to show ambiguous, and even positive bloodsuckers, and therefore depicted them as real monsters. But we remember from the unforgettable Ephraim and Khedin's apprentices that Perumov knows how to write savory vampires! It's a shame that in the novel, where they play a key role, he could not or did not want to do this.

Outcome: rare in modern times fantasy about vampires, where blood lovers are not more or less goodies, but the main enemies of the human race. Will the opposing sides manage to settle the centuries-old conflict, we will find out in the second, final volume of The Hunters.

Electronic sales

This spring, on the official website of Nick Perumov perumov.club opened an e-book store. In it you can buy the works of the writer, which came out earlier; there will also be new works distributed exclusively. For example, through the site you can buy the story "The Witch's Yard", which is adjacent to the cycle about Molly Blackwater and was not published in paper. And for pre-ordering The 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 liver. But ... rarely kills quite simply like that, in passing. Although in recent years ... - He broke off. - And when I first started, so most of the old ghouls and even lone wolves resembled. Killed for food, occasionally - for fun. But they just killed. And Elysia, a gentle young lady, like your flower, slaughtered people not even in dozens - hundreds. She cut and, damn it, laid out patterns on the squares.