White Raven: The Sword of Northern Ancestors

By Irina Lopatina and Igor Adasikov

In the kingdom of Areya, humans, animals, and the magical creatures that inhabit the Eternal Forest have long coexisted peacefully, but now something is horribly wrong. A terrifying stream of monstrous creatures has begun to emerge from the secret depths of the earth, terrorizing all of Areya's native inhabitants. From the tiny, wise drevalyankas to the bellicose cave-dwelling gnomes to the devious kikimoras who gather roots and herbs in the marsh, everyone is in danger. With the aid of Urart, the magical sword that has been passed down from the time of the ancient northern ancestors, Grand Duke Vlady can offer temporary protection to his people. But Prince Vraigo, Vlady's nephew, who is endowed with magical power himself, understands that the source of the evil monsters must be found if there's any hope of survival. Along with a motley crew of his forest-dwelling friends, Vraigo sets off on a perilous quest in search of the koschei, the powerful, corrupt Archmagus whose mission is the destruction not just of Areya, but of the entire world. As if this weren't bad enough, Urart disappears from the duke's stronghold. Without it, Areya is doomed, and only Vraigo, the White Raven, can possibly get the sword back. This journey requires Vraigo to use all of his keen wits and magical abilities, as well as to ally himself to dangerous creatures like yagas and werewolves, natural enemies of man, and precipitates the young prince into the most bewildering, complex challenge he has faced yet: life in the twenty-first century.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Light Messages Publishing
• Release date: Jul 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781611530339

Book preview

Prologue

The Voevode, Baday, was fiddling with his thick wheaten moustache, continually biting it and pulling it with his fingers. He would be much more comfortable if those were either his brave men-at-arms in front of him ready for the training battle, or even the Grand Duke himself who decided to show his daring.

But they were three boys, three young princes, with their light brown shaggy heads thrown back, standing in front of him that morning, the three princes who were about to compete to prove they were ready to advance to the next stage of military training. Each year, the boys were determined to find the strongest among them.

Baday was unusually gloomy and worried about the impending duel; to him the outcome of the battle was as transparent as water in a stream and promised no good for anybody. First, there was Tagas, the elder son of Vlady the Grand Duke. He was a sturdy chap of twelve winters, who in a year or two would be quite ready to become his father’s right hand. There was his brother Seles, the second son of Vlady, always following his elder brother, like a tail feather with an arrow or smoke with fire. While there was also a younger son, Rohan, he was still quite a small child, and not at this lesson today.

Baday’s dismal mood this day was because of the third prince who was present, Vraigo by name, whose grey crazy eyes were flashing at him in the morning sunlight. The son of Vlady’s perished brother, Vraigo would certainly beat the Grand Duke’s sons again. And as a result of such a thrashing, Baday realized, Tagas would grow furious and Seles would scheme against Vraigo, behavior that did not befit the Grand Duke’s sons. Baday heaved a deep sigh, surveyed the stubbornly bent heads, and announced in a deep bass voice:All of you remember, it is quite enough to seize the sword of your adversary in order to win a victory.

But the real battle does not end with that! immediately blurted Seles. Until a fighter has his hands and legs cut off, he—

If a fighter can lose his sword, he can easily lose everything else! growled Baday. Don’t debate, prince, or else everybody will consider your tongue your main weapon. Start the battle! The winner of the first fight will combat in the next one.

Tagas kicked the earth with his foot like a bull-calf and ran towards the trampled dueling ground. Bending under the weight of a training sword of brittle steel, much heavier than a fighting sword, and a shield with the family blazon—a big raven stretching out its strong wings against the Eye of Day—Seles followed his brother. Pitted against Tagas’s strength and pressure, Seles was a worthy adversary for the shiftiness and deftness of a wild cat, one that doesn’t expect to win a victory but is always ready to torment its rival. Seles began rushing over the ground trying to beat off the adversary’s trenchant blows, diving and jumping up, so both Vraigo and Baday unwittingly started stamping their feet and clenching their fists.

Attack him! Baday could not contain himself. Seles! I wish a bear would catch you! Attack your brother or lay down the sword!

Seles let his mind stray from the duel just for a second and was thrown off the fighting ground by a vigorous blow. He rolled over the tough earth, dropping his weapon and hissing through clenched teeth. As he watched, Vraigo stopped stamping his foot for a moment, squeezed the handle of his sword more firmly and looked at Baday.

My turn now?

Yes! It’s time for Tagas to give a thrashing to the forest puppy! yelled a defeated Seles.

Prince! Baday barked to Seles. Beat your enemy, but never lose face!

Tagas bent his head still lower as Vraigo guardedly moved toward him. Two winters younger than Tagas and half a head shorter, Vraigo had always been a strangely silent boy who preferred to live a vagabond life together with the forest dwellers instead of living quietly and comfortably among his people in the Duke’s Stronghold. Druids and drevalyankas were his closest friends, but Vraigo also felt more at home even with less admirable types of forest-dwelling magical creatures like rusalkas, mermaids, kikimoras, werewolves, and wood goblins, than among the people he was born to. Maybe, thought Baday, it was just as well.

Meanwhile, Vraigo had already taken his step out onto the dueling ground and Tagas immediately made a dash towards him. A heavy blow fell upon the younger boy. Baday gave a start, but Vraigo easily intercepted the blow with his sword, and Tagas, being drawn by his own stroke, nearly fell to the ground. Tagas turned around, moving along a broad arc, howled, and his sword flashed in his hand with lightning speed. Crushing blows fell upon Vraigo, who hardly had time to parry those with his shield. At some point, Baday lost count of the blows. The voevode nervously pulled at his moustache and decided to stop the duel, but before he could speak, something amazing suddenly happened. Not believing his own eyes, Baday saw the younger prince’s shield falling to the ground while his heavy sword flew effortlessly from Vraigo’s right hand to his left hand and struck a sideways blow to his adversary’s sword. Tagas dropped his weapon and swayed forward, falling on his knee.

Hah! Vraigo triumphantly threw up his sword and a sunbeam slid cheerfully along its blade.

A-ah! Enraged, Tagas dashed back up and swooped upon his enemy.

Before Baday had time to move, the boys fell, rolling on the ground with only the crackling of their leather shirts resounding now that their weapons lay silent and forgotten.

Worm! Tagas yelled, enraged. Swamp touchwood! Werewolf! You’ll remember, remember well, who is the true prince!

Baday’s heavy hand unceremoniously grabbed Tagas’s nape and raised the kicking prince above the ground.

Prince! growled Baday. You are speaking obscenities! And if the Duke learns of your behavior? He set the boy down roughly.

Tagas immediately fell silent and, panting, took a step back from Vraigo.

You saw it all, Baday, he uttered dully. I almost won, but he did something with my sword! I’ve always known that he is a werewolf. A child like him could not do the things that are beyond the power of some grown-up warriors!

Vraigo. Baday scowled at the boy who was rising, holding his torn shirt collar. This sword, indeed, is heavier than the usual one. I hope you did not allow magic to enter into a fair fight?

Who needs magic to beat Tagas? Vraigo answered. Tagas jumped ahead again and Baday had to grab him by his shirt. I just threw my sword from one hand to the other. And what of it? Vraigo calmly took his sword and threw it here and there. The fallen trees of forest abatises and the stones in gnomes’ caves are much heavier.

So crawl, crawl into your cave! And even better, into the swamp, so kikimoras can tickle you and swamp spirits can stink throughout your body! roared Seles, Tagas’s resentful brother. Tagas is the strongest of the people! You werewolf!

Okay, I’m already crawling away! Vraigo sneered. He threw the sword down, bowed quickly to Baday, and jumped from the fighting ground.

Field grass soon covered his head, the buzzing of bees echoed in the field along with birds’ trills, and the wicked, offensive cries of Tagas and Seles were hushed far away and no longer had any power over Vraigo.

Beyond the field awash with summer light and scents, the Eternal Forest rose like a cool green wall. Here, not far from peoples’ settlements, the forest was light, with bark of birch trees showing up white here and there, and elastic pillows of moss. Those who had not wandered far into it could not imagine what thick, impassable swales and dense thickets were hidden in its depths. Nor could they imagine what beings were sometimes able to emerge from the forest into the sunlight. For Vraigo, the forest was much easier to understand than the complexities of life in Stronghold. All the Eternal Forest’s inhabitants had their own languages that the boy quickly learned to understand, and whether they were forest people like druids, larger animals, birds, or small magical creatures, with them one could always solve a matter peacefully. And as for the vicious ones—like werewolves and pikshas—he knew simply to stay away.

However, last winter, half-forgotten, long-unseen monsters, much more mysterious and frightening than the familiar werewolves and pikshas, had begun to appear in the forest again and disturb the residents. Thoughts of these strange, threatening beings were far from the mind of the young prince on this bright morning as he made his way into the forest.

The forest fascinated and attracted Vraigo not only because of the friends he found among the native forest inhabitants, but also because of an amazing person. The magus named Agar lived in a newly built, deliciously tar-smelling hut beside a narrow sleepy stream. Nobody knew whence he came nor how he had arrived in Areya. No one knew on what subjects he and Duke Vlady spent long hours of conversation. They only knew that here was where Agar’s path ended. The Duke had permitted Agar to settle near Stronghold and would often stop at the hut by the stream during his rides. The Duke’s friends and people were very surprised by this, as Duke Vlady never kept magi around him, instead ridiculing their art in every way. And yet it seemed that Vlady recognized Agar as a truly gifted magus. His small home was quickly filled with strange, unheard-of things, and in the crown of a tree above the roof of the magus’ hut, a whole family of drevalyankas settled down. The other forest-dwellers were extremely surprised by this, because drevalyankas, which are known to possess magic powers themselves, were shy creatures that would normally avoid meeting people.

Agar himself was not like Vraigo’s other acquaintances. Tall, with very white hair, he sometimes seemed to the boy Vraigo to be an extremely old man, but he could build a house of heavy logs all alone, and he was so cheerful and laughed so heartily that all the surrounding animals enjoyed coming around his home just to be near him.

Each morning, after his mandatory training on the fighting ground, Vraigo would run headlong to Agar’s cabin. Completely different classes began there, and the magus did not drive away the curious boy who so enjoyed the old man’s presence. The prince gladly carried water, pounded fragrant herbs in a mortar, and murmured the strange words staring at him from old, tattered scrolls.

The thought of Agar immediately calmed Vraigo. He ceased to clench his bleeding lip, and, jumping over the trunk of a birch almost bent to the ground after a recent rain, he found himself in the forest. How nice it was to run over the forest floor, feeling springy moss under a fine boot! Vraigo sometimes thought that he could spend all day this way, picking berries in handfuls on the run, especially if a raspberry bramble happened to appear on his way as it did now.

Getting out of the prickly bushes, the boy grabbed a branch and stopped as if rooted to the ground. Aha! He was already lucky: from behind the neighboring tree, shaking its massive cockscomb, a bright red rooster was emerging. This rooster will be a fair catch, Vraigo thought, since it must have wandered away from its human home. Of course, Agar will reproach me until he learns the bird is not stolen, but what delicious soup the magus will have today! Without hesitation, the prince took off his shirt and quietly walked towards the bird. One step, another one—it was important that no twig, no cone, crack under his heel. The boy was about to throw himself onto the rooster, when the rooster suddenly roused himself and then jumped from behind the tree.

A-ah! yelled Vraigo, recoiling in horror and almost falling down.

The comb-topped moving head of the cock was attached to the strong body of a toad with the long tail of a serpent that the creature continuously swept upon the ground. The beast immediately turned to Vraigo, opening his strong beak and screaming, seeking revenge on the small human who had disturbed it. At the last possible second, the prince managed to throw his shirt onto the creature, hiding its dead black eyes. He spun on his heels and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction, scaring the forest-dwelling creatures with his fearful screams.

Basilisk! shouted Vraigo. There’s a basilisk!

He continued yelling and dashing toward Agar’s cabin until strong hands intercepted him, raising him slightly above the ground to stop his progress.

Prince! Agar exclaimed, looking at his student’s scratched face. What are you doing? You scared the drevalyankas, and to tell the truth, even I was a bit frightened.

Basilisk! the embarrassed boy repeated. By the first edge of the raspberry brambles…

You fought a basilisk this morning? Agar asked with a faint note of incredulity.

Well, Agar! Vraigo frowned and stamped his foot. It’s not a joke! I barely managed to throw a shirt over him to keep him from looking at me. He shuddered, looking back over his shoulder

Stay here, ordered the magus, pushing the boy toward an old birch tree. Not one step from this place. He dove under low branches and seemed to melt into the forest.

Agar! desperately cried Vraigo. There really is a basilisk, and you’re unarmed!

The prince wanted to follow his teacher, but his feet seemed stuck to the thick birch root where the magus had left him, and something began to ache in his chest, splashing like icy spring water. Suddenly in the distance, among the lush foliage, lightning flashed, flickered, and then faded up into the sky rather than toward the earth. A few long moments later, Agar appeared from behind the trees. His eyes, cheerful as a rule, were concerned, and in his hands he was clutching Vraigo’s shirt with a tattered collar and with a thick black spot on the sleeve.

A basilisk almost came out of the forest, he said perplexedly. How could that happen today, when we have so long believed that basilisks had vanished from the earth? Most old men have not even heard tales of such a creature from their grandfathers? What could a basilisk do in a human habitation?

I saw people of stone in one of your scrolls, whispered Vraigo. It was written that those at whom a basilisk looked… Vraigo trailed off, afraid to finish the thought.

Yes, that is true. Agar finally shook himself. Come on, I must read something immediately. There will be work for you, too. He charged off toward the cabin, expecting Vraigo to stay close behind.

* * *

The Eye of Day had not yet managed to reach the peak of the sky when Vraigo, wearing Agar’s shortened shirt in place of his own ruined garment, was already sitting at a long table attached to an outside wall of the hut, carefully pounding a pestle into a mortar. Today the magus had set an unusual task before him, and the boy did not quite believe that he could succeed at it. From the mysterious depths of his dwelling, Agar had extracted a narrow, brittle stone plate, upon which an amazing flower was vividly depicted. Neither in the forest, nor in the field, nor in the underground passages of gnomes, had Vraigo ever seen such a small, tight bud with so many tiny petals, peeping out through the petrified leafage like bright red sunshine.

What is this? asked the prince, enchanted.

The spirit of an ancient flower. Agar, screwing up one eye and then the other, admired the plate. You shall try to free him—it’s enough to crumble up the stone which holds the flower and add just a drop of magic energy.

Momentarily forgetting about the stone flower, Vraigo stared at the teacher.

But I cannot! he replied. The magic mantle did not pass to me and has never endowed me with its energy! I have no way to reach it; I possess no magical ability…

How many times have you tried to find this path?

I don’t know the number.

Hence, there is nothing wrong with trying again, concluded the magus. Take the stone, the mortar and pestle, all your patience, and start working.

To argue with Agar was useless—somehow he was always right—so Vraigo silently went to the other end of the table and began the chore. He rubbed the unyielding stone, casting sidelong glances at his teacher who was opening tightly rolled scrolls, one after the other, knitting his dark brows, which were totally unexpected against the background of Agar’s white hair. A patriarch of the drevalyankas’ family was sitting on a low branch near Agar, and the magus was repeatedly raising his head as if asking the little creature for advice about something.

It is necessary to say that Vraigo quite envied the magic of these little, bright green, fluffy creatures, which most people thought were just shy tree foxes. In fact, they were natural magi, who knew much more than did people about the past, who could foresee the future, and from whom it was impossible to conceal a single thought in one’s head. Drevalyankas had lived side by side with all other forest dwellers from the beginning of time, but, for some reason that no one understood—unless Agar understood—in recent years they had almost vanished from the Eternal Forest.

Finally, the stone plate was reduced to a mound of small sharp chips and Vraigo painfully began the real task. Slowly, slowly, squinting from the effort, he began to try to paint the red sunshine flower in his head. But the image was crumbling in his mind; the tight petals didn’t want to be picked, and the leaves didn’t want to grow. Vraigo’s brow was wet with sweat from his efforts, but he dared not move. Agar, rising from his seat, disappeared into the cabin.

The prince, concentrating on his mental flower, did not immediately notice that a man in a dark traveling cloak appeared from behind an old blue fir-tree at a distance from the cabin. He stood motionless in the shadow, but the drevalyanka squeaked, throwing himself quickly up the tree trunk and out of sight, and Vraigo set his eyes upon the stranger.

Boy! called the traveler, as if he had waited to be noticed. How can I see White Agar?

The prince was about to shout something in response when suddenly a yellow button, tight with petals, floated before his wide-open eyes, indistinguishable from a real living flower. Never before had Vraigo managed to express his desire so precisely, and his thoughts immediately rushed to the flower, but with the corner of his eye he noticed that his teacher had emerged from the cabin carrying a new scroll.

Alkay? Agar exclaimed in surprise on seeing the cloaked traveler.

Greetings to the great, pure Archmagus! replied the stranger with a vague smile. Very unexpected encounter, isn’t it?

The fragile image of the flower in Vraigo’s head did not let him turn, so he took a deep breath and, as Agar had taught him, he mentally stretched upwards, reaching for the mantle of magic high above. Like a slender thread, twisting and flying, he traveled into the clear blue of the sky, but nothing happened. The prince couldn’t reach the energy he needed, although the truly endowed needed only a brief moment of contact with the mantle to become energized. As if from a distance, he heard the teacher and the stranger, who stood by the old fir-tree as before.

I could have guessed, said Agar quietly, from the moment when I saw the basilisk.

Impressive thing, agreed the traveling stranger.

Vraigo felt a familiar weakness lying on his shoulders, and his hands grew cold. Stone dust was floating before his eyes, familiar sounds became distorted—anxiously, a drevalyanka screamed shrilly, and the unpleasantly rasping voice of the stranger kept repeating:

Did you really think that I could not do that? No, really? But, you know, I cannot get angry at you for long. The road is still open to you.

Suddenly, Vraigo felt as if something picked him up, pulled the prince sharply and highly upwards, and then released its grip on him a moment later. Screwing up his eyes, barely holding back a cry, Vraigo felt as if he was falling down, down, until he fell onto the hard wood table, barely breathing the thick air, and opened his eyes. Astonished, he yelled from the heart:

Agar! The magus and the stranger jumped in surprise. A flower! A little flower! Agar!

Amid the stone dust, shrouded in a pale glow, a fluffy ball of a flower was lying, the flower that had exploded in Vraigo’s mind a moment ago. Grabbing the flower, the boy ran to the teacher; he so wanted Agar and even this strange traveler to see, touch, and feel what he had just created.

I’m endowed! shouted the amazed prince, holding out his creation to the magus. I can reach the magic veil!

Of course, replied Agar simply and stroked Vraigo on the head. Run, show it to your friends. This is happiness, when a new flower appears on the Earth.

Endowed is good, agreed the rather frightening stranger, staring at the boy.

Run! Agar repeated, and unexpectedly gave Vraigo a forceful push. And be very careful!

The happy prince flew into the forest, beside himself with joy, and on the edge of the clearing he turned to wave goodbye to Agar.

Vraigo did not have to search for his friends very long. As usual, the young druids played in the branches of a huge ancient oak, which had been the whole world for them since their early childhood. Here it was possible to arrange soft nests and hang up a swing, to hide oneself in a deep hollow, and to chase each other through the strong, springy branches. All the druids were able to climb trees well; for them it was no different from walking on solid ground. Virtually every one of them had his own tree, which could be any type, and to which he or she was connected by a secret kinship. Living in the forest, each always cared about the trees and even knew how to communicate with all types of trees without using words.

The prince just could not imagine Belsha and Vasilinka, the druid twins, without the oak. He strongly suspected that these little children of the original mother of forest dwellers, Selena, had impressive magical abilities. Otherwise, Vraigo mused, what helped their old oak tree continue growing, branching out and covering itself with a cap of thick foliage every spring?

So today, Vraigo was absolutely happy. He, who had always lagged behind his friends in magical ability and was not able to understand their little secrets, he was now among the endowed! And he was not just any natural magus who was able to find water, cure disease, or make a plant bear fruits. No! He had found his way to the pure magical energy of the Earth, and he could create anything he pleased.

(Well, almost anything.)

Hey! cried the prince, running up to the thick trunk of an oak. Belsha, Vasilinka, take a look at this! Come down, quick!

Two heads, one red and one ash-blond, flashed in the foliage, and the druids easily jumped to the ground, one after the other. Forest-dwelling druids, with all their similarity to people, were smaller and more fragile. Their skin had a pale greenish light, and their hair, usually ash-blond, was shot with green, too. Only in this case, Selena and her daughter Vasilinka’s hair was fiery red, flaming like autumn leaves. Vraigo’s friends barely came up to his shoulder in height. They noiselessly began moving toward the prince, who instantly realized that his friends had just exchanged angry words. Belsha’s countenance was dismal and Vasilinka looked angrily at her brother, her thin brows knitted.

This is for you! Vraigo, feeling shy, held the flower out to the girl. Have you ever seen anything like this?

What is it? The girl gently squeezed the stem. Where did you get it?

It is not real, Belsha claimed, and buried his pointed nose in the bud.

You stone hump! Vasilinka knocked Belsha on the head. It is real; it’s just unusual. She looked at the flame-red flower, knelt, and held it near the grass. Like a bird caught up by soft air currents, or like a fish tossed into its watery element, the bud of the unusual flower began moving, reaching down and growing into the ground. A moment later, a real forest flower was peeking out of the thick grass extending to the roots of the oak.

Wow! inhaled Vraigo and Belsha at the same time.

Now, that’s not like anything I’ve ever seen! Belsha added.

It is not because of my action. Satisfied, Vasilinka stood up, brushing off her knees. The flower wanted to grow, as though it had not seen the sun for a long time.

Exactly! The prince tried to wave his hand casually, but genuine puppy-like joy was escaping him. Only this morning the flower had been nothing more than a painting on a stone plate!

Vraigo, did you join with the magic veil? the girl asked in a low whisper. Have you realized that you are endowed?

Yes! Yes! Yes! Not waiting for a answer, Belsha enthusiastically thumped his friend’s shoulder.

I’ll be covered with bark! he exclaimed, amazed and filled with joy at Vraigo’s news. Well, we can do so many things now! Oh, Vraigo, today at dawn I saw—

Stop it! Vasilinka pulled her brother’s sleeve, and turned her pale face to the prince. How did it happen? But you did not believe in your endowment at all.

But Vraigo did not answer her; like a good hunting dog, he was already thinking of the next adventure. How many such trails to adventure he would find together with Belsha; these paths would take the boys far away from home. This caused the prince instantly to remember the basilisk, whose appearance was also important and stunning news, and he stared at his friend Belsha.

Did you see an unusual creature this morning?

Certainly! Belsha was bobbing up and down, full of feelings. At dawn, I went to collect the dew so that, as we had planned, we could spread it on the old toad from the foul swamp. I had almost filled a leaf when I noticed him!

Was he sitting in the raspberry bushes? Vraigo specified.

Why in the bushes? Belsha was surprised. No! He was slinking away into a pinery and I followed him.

This is dangerous, Vraigo admonished. The prince was startled and indignant at his friend’s rash action; chasing a basilisk was incredibly dangerous because anything it looked at could be turned to stone. But do you know what would have happened if he had noticed you?

Yes, to those like you, people, who don’t know how to walk in the forest! No one will hear a druid! So, I remember where he lay down to sleep, and we can easily go back and get him out into the sunshine!

Get out a basilisk? Vraigo was dumbfounded.

What basilisk? A piksha! I have never seen such a huge one in our forest, He is bigger than a lynx, than a wolf!

You just try to attach yourselves to this unfortunate piksha! intervened Vasilinka. He has done nothing wrong that we know of. In fact, nobody seems to have heard of his being around, and so we know he has not attacked either druids or people. He also has the right to live in the forest.

Among the magical creatures of the Eternal Forest, pikshas were one of the most dangerous predators. This dark thing would wander at night in its cat-like way, in search of prey, easily reading and paralyzing the thoughts of his target. Pikshas could simply deprive their victims of energy if they chose, but held particular yearning for their blood. And so, in the people’s settlements, terrible legends were told about babies stolen from their cradles by the insidious piksha, and about the travelers in the forest whom he whirled in circles with his hypnotizing thoughts.

The way to do away with a piksha was to push it out of its lair in the day-time, into the sunlight where the nocturnal creature became completely feeble. Therefore, these intelligent creatures long ago moved deep into the Eternal Forest and tried not to disturb vindictive people. The fact that a large piksha had now appeared near human habitation was very strange and disquieting.

He hasn’t attacked anyone so far, but everyone knows pikshas cannot be trusted, Vraigo said, supporting Belsha. It is necessary at least to take a look at him to understand if he is dangerous or not.

How can you understand that? Vasilinka asked with a smile. Maybe you’ve learned to read thoughts as well as to make flowers?

The children had no time to argue. Captured by excitement, one after another, they swept past the druids’ huts, then under the reproachful eye of an old druid sitting on the bank of a forest stream; they skirted the pond where the forest dwellers raised fish and found themselves in the pinery.

There! whispered Belsha. The big hollow!

Vraigo instantly realized what he was talking about. One of the low, thickset pines had roomy accommodations for any beast; a medium-sized lynx had spent the last winter there.

Let’s climb and look at it, invited the prince.

His friend eagerly nodded his head. As always at such moments, Belsha’s pale cheeks flushed, and his green eyes, usually light like birch leaves, became transparent.

Quietly! he warned. A piksha has a hare’s ear and a wolf’s nose.

The thick, smooth trunk of the pine did not present any difficulties for the druid, but Vraigo was heavily scratching upwards with all his might, sticking his fingers into the bark, while tearing the skin of his elbows. Agile Belsha managed by pulling himself with one hand and pushing his clumsy human friend with the other. Finally, the boys straddled a lower branch and cautiously moved on; Vasilinka remained on the ground. The hollow, like a sketchy patch of black, loomed in front of their curious, flushed faces. Not a rustle, not a breath, came out of the thick darkness.

Are you sure he’s there? whispered Vraigo, already tired of pricking up his ears.

He’s hiding, Belsha exhaled quietly. He straightened like a column and looked into the hollow with enthusiastic horror.

He has managed to escape! the prince exclaimed, shaking his head. Was it really a piksha?

The insulted druid silently reached for a branch, sure he just had to shake it somehow to find the creature hiding in the hollow.

Wait! Vraigo suddenly felt inspired. Now, let’s see—

The prince tightly grabbed the tree trunk, closed his eyes, and mentally darted up. Everything came surprisingly easy—the mantle of magic accepted him, enveloping him and giving him its energy. Vraigo opened his eyes and he directed a thin ray of blue light, flashing over his head, so that it pierced the black hole. Before the excited boys had time to bend over the hollow, a fierce, snarling snout with bristly whiskers rushed toward them accompanied by barking and hissing.

O-y-y! Belsha yelled, falling from the branch.

Stunned by his own magical action, the prince stared at the snout, unable to move. His eyes caught sight of the creature for a moment as the piksha poised himself, preparing to jump.

Vraigo!

The ringing voice of Vasilinka brought him to his senses, and the prince pushed off the branch and dropped down. He slammed heavily into a lower branch of the pine, but the boy managed to catch hold of it and cushion his fall. After he had fallen lightly into the grass, he jumped quickly to his feet.

Did you see that? he shouted to the girl. There’s your ‘harmless’ creature! Now, we’ll drag him out of the hollow.

But both Belsha and Vasilinka were silently watching somewhere above their heads, with their faces expressing deep astonishment.

He’s gone, said the girl, finally.

How? wondered the prince as he followed their gaze.

It’s a fact! confirmed Belsha. The moment you fell down, he bounded away on the branches.

Everyone knew that in the sunlight, pikshas became feeble and weak like kittens, and Vraigo was about to argue with his friends, but the memory of the empty and cold eyes of the creature he had just seen suddenly filled his mind. Those eyes almost reminded him of the gaze of the terrible basilisk. There was something in those eyes, some thought, a malicious and exultant thought, as though the piksha had hidden power that, with time, would break out and reveal itself to all the people who had forced all the wicked creatures—even basilisks and pikshas—from their old homes throughout the Eternal Forest, driving them far into its depths.

A sense of unexpected alarm suddenly fell upon and burned Vraigo. Although he didn’t yet fully understand the source of this concern, he quickly turned to the druids.

You have to run home and tell everything we’ve seen to your tribesmen. Strange things are happening in the forest. This morning I saw a dangerous basilisk; your elders probably know of such a creature. You need to be ready to defend yourselves, if necessary.

Belsha and Vasilinka simultaneously nodded to the prince. In moments of danger, these two often-obstinate druids had learned to rely on Vraigo’s judgment, as they had when a forest fire drove them into the foul swamp and when a bear-crank had come across their snow hut. Together the brother and sister darted away through the forest.

Vraigo stiffened in indecision himself. He had to rush to Stronghold and warn the guard who, of course, would not believe a word from him; even though he was a prince, he knew he was considered a strange boy. But anxiety dug into him with its sharp teeth. The prince looked around helplessly, and suddenly he realized—in fact, he felt with his whole skin—where that vicious, cold wave of fear was coming from.

Agar! he cried, frightened.

Vraigo’s legs carried him to the river, running and shivering. He didn’t know why the air became so icy in the summer forest. With his teeth chattering, the prince got out of the water, fleetingly wondered at the silence around him, and soon found himself near the house of his teacher.

Agar! called the boy once again, rounding the hut and stumbling on the spot. Agar…

The magus was only one step away from the table, but he was lying face down, stretched out at full length, clutching a crumpled scroll. In that moment, time vanished for Vraigo. With his hands drawn and numb with cold, he was barely able to turn the magus over on his back. The boy began to cry, calling and shaking the teacher. He received no response, and anger with Agar suddenly swept over him. How could the magus leave his pupil alone on this earth, with neither an explanation nor teaching on how to live in this world without bumping its delicate inside or rubbing against its rough edges? How was he to deal with the adversity that, like a heavy, stifling cloud, was thickening over Areya?

You can’t! cried the prince, looking

Reviews for White Raven

[oldwolf_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is definitely a young adult/teen book. It is also written as the first book in a series that does not give you an ending this book. It is not a complete story within itself.A classic attempt and a good vs. evil story, the young, fatherless "hero", is misunderstood by his peers and left, largely to his own devices. As a part of his growth, he explores the forest around his home and finds that there is an ancient evil looking to return. He needs to find out exactly what this evil is and a way to defeat it. But not in this book. Left me with an incomplete and unfulfilled feeling.

[omakase_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Unfortunately this book just could not hold my interest. I managed to stay with it for the first 100 pages or so, but at that point there was just not enough to keep me engaged.This book is a very run-of-the-mill fantasy story, which includes all of the standard memes for the genre: sword-fighting, sorcery, evil creatures, etc. all overlaid on the backdrop of good vs. unknown evil. I was hoping that there would be some interesting twists since this was written by a Russian author, but other than a large cast of characters with Russian names, nothing particularly interesting stood out.My main problems with this story stemmed from the weak writing, poor character development and lack of a unique plot.There were so many instances of the use of trite phrases, the overuse of the message "the monsters are coming!" throughout the chapters and just a real lack of worldbuilding.This book might interest a young, novice fantasy reader, but for anyone who has read with any depth in the genre it will immediately become a banal read.It's possible that part of the problem lay with the translation, however, the general writing just does not convey particularly interesting descriptions of landscapes, interesting dialogue and runs from plot point to plot point with little background information or scene setting.I also noticed too many inconsistencies and poor writing choices. Early on the Duke's brother is described as having died in a tragic accident, but in the next chapter the author writes that he died in a battle with the monsters. Also, for instance, the sons of the Duke and his brother are referred to as princes throughout, when they would be simply Lords or Marquees.Overall, considering the dearth of young adult fantasy on the market I would recommend other more worthy stories for your reading.

[dewasus1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I found this book a bit disconcerting at the beginning. The reader is very abruptly thrust into a medieval-type world of nobility and magic. The hero is a disaffected and fatherless youth at odds with his remaining family. There is very little background on the family, the youth himself or the fantastic world in which they live. It does not help that this book was originally written in Russian with much of Russian folklore and fairy tales as source material. In this day of books and movies such Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Twilight, etc., most readers are familiar with mages, werewolves and artefacts of power, but the Russian creatures and names still require more introduction than they receive. It takes time but eventually the reader is drawn in -- for me, it did not happen until the hero finds himself transported into the future io our own time and world to search for a missing magical sword. There is always some comedy involved in becoming accustomed to computers, horseless carriages and modern dwellings, but it also invokes some sympathy for the newcomer. Along the way, the hero acquires some modern day friends and helpers which are abruptly abandoned at the end as Vraigo returns home, sword in hand. This book is in no way complete in and of itself. A sequel is required. The book is probably suitable for age 10 or 11 and up, but it is somewhat more densely written than a typical book for this age group, although if the reader can make it through Harry Potter, he or she could also work through this book. I did not love this book but i did get sufficiently engaged to want to know what happens in the next book of the set or series.

[rosenectur · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

White Raven is a fantasy book by Russian author Irina Lopatina. Because I enjoy the Scandinavian flavor of Elizabeth Boyer's books I was curious to see what a Russian perspective would add to a fantasy novel.The main problem was the translation was not very clean. Other reviewers have gone in depth on that subject so I won't. The book is pretty standard fantasy far, with a few new "Russian-esq" fantasy beings, until two-third through. At that point it takes an interesting time-travel twist. Despite not being a very good translation I enjoyed the "fish out of water" twist in the book. It becomes some what of a comedy at that point having the warrior prince from long ago trying to adjust to life in the modern world.If you can get past the roughness of the translation I think this book would be an enjoyable read for anyone who likes fantasy.

[karlstar_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I like this book for its differences. It is based on Russian mythology, which is a bit unusual. It is also written by a non-English speaker, which gives it a different feel. Once you get used to the sentence structure and language forms, its easy to read and follow and really has a unique feel. There aren't a whole host of characters and there is really only one plot thread, but that does not make this a bad book. In many ways, it is also a simple book. The sword Urart completely destroys monsters in some not very well described way, for example. This is definitely a young adult book, so it is relatively simple in plot and structure, but still enjoyable to read. About 2/3 of the way through it takes an unexpected twist. In some ways, the latter 1/3 is not written as well as the first 2/3, but the change in setting was interesting. I'd recommend this for any young adult reader interested in fantasy. The simplicity will not appeal to most adults, but it should be enjoyed by children. Unfortunately this book is the first of a trilogy and the ending is rather abrupt.

[helcura_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

In the original Russian this book may be a lyrical work of creativity. Or it may not be. Unfortunately the translation offered here reads as if the translator intended to use every work in the Oxford English Dictionary at least once and felt that no noun should have fewer than three different adjectives attached to it. The result is excruciatingly florid writing that is a chore to read.I found the plot unoriginal and not very well written. There was too much telling about and too little showing. The characters are flat and undeveloped and none of them is particularly interesting.Overall the book was a waste of time to read.Not recommended.

[mamajoan · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I found this book difficult to get into, because, as other reviewers have mentioned, the translation from Russian is not very good. Sentence structure is very awkward and clumsy, and in some cases the translator has chosen a word that is simply wrong. For that reason I found it a difficult read.The story itself is really fairly standard fantasy stuff. We have a magical world with a Duke with two witless sons and a third, who isn't actually a son but a nephew, and who has magical powers and must go on a quest to save the kingdom. Although some aspects of the magical system, and some of the magical creatures in the forest, are different from what you'll find in most Western fantasy fiction, the overall plot outline is very familiar. The hero is a little too perfect; he can solve any puzzle, fight any enemy, perform any magic spell that is needed to advance the plot. The uncle, cousins, and other warriors are two-dimensional at best. Wizards and magi are either good or bad, nothing in between. And so forth.Things get a bit more interesting once the action moves to the present-day Earth, but even still, it all unfolds a little too conveniently to be believed. Would an ambulance crew really let a mysterious injured man and his friend just hop out of the ambulance and go their merry way without going to the hospital -- indeed, without even taking down their names and contact info? That's just one example. Then a girl comes onto the scene, who conveniently just happens to have access to the guy who has the missing sword. And then we're to believe that Nik can figure out how to disarm this millionaire's fancy security system in a matter of minutes. It just doesn't add up. Additionally, the pacing is erratic and the point-of-view narration switches characters sometimes from one paragraph to the next, which can be quite confusing.The other thing that really bothered me about this book was the erasure of most of the female characters. At the beginning of the story we learn alllllll about Vraigo and his uncle and three male cousins, but not until several chapters in is there any mention at all of the mother and aunt! And even then it's just the briefest mention. In the opening scene set during Vraigo's childhood, the two druid children are presented as being his two best friends and constant companions; yet by the time they reach adulthood, it's just Vraigo and the boy -- the druid sister has been reduced to a harridan who shows up a couple of times to yell at them for getting themselves into danger. Similarly, we don't even see a hint of Vraigo's mother until halfway through the book, and then she just pops in to give him a magical amulet and tell him that she's worried about him, whereafter she disappears completely. Even the young woman in the modern-day section of the story serves only as an object of desire (when first introduced) and later as a plot device. This kind of thing really bothers me, particularly coming from a female author. In the year 2012 I expect better treatment of the female characters in a story like this.As another reviewer noted, the book comes to a rather inconclusive end. Knowing that this was the first of a trilogy, I certainly didn't expect all of the plot threads to be neatly tied up, but I did at least expect to end with some sense of closure. That doesn't really happen here. And in the end, I just didn't enjoy the book enough to go and seek out the sequel.

[willowcove · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book definitely had a few issues. In several places it was hard to follow, didn't make sense, and just didn't flow. The best example is Chapter 11; it took me several pages to figure out what was going on here. In spite of these issues, I did end up enjoying the book. Most of the problems occurred within the first half, and the second half was much more enjoyable. I liked it enough to read the sequel and hope that the author (who definitely has a good plot design) will learn from her earlier mistakes. Overall, a decent first showing.

[pebblesgmc · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

White Raven: The Sword of Northern Ancestors by Irina Lopatina (April 2012 batch LibraryThing Early Reviewers) is the first book in a trilogy. The book brings to life a beautiful landscape and fantasy. The main character Vraige is gifted and stumbling by turns. He finds that "The Enemy of my Enemy, is my friend" He must adapt and grow to survive. I feel the wording was left with a Siberian flavor on purpose to remind us that this is not in our own back yard. I look forward to the next book in the series.

[gryphon8kl · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

The use of elements of Russian mythology as a backdrop gave this book the potential to stand out despite a plot set-up that's rather common in fantasy. Unfortunately, the koschei, drevalyankas, pikshas, and the like wind up feeling interchangeable with more familiar fantasy elements (the bolug, a boulder-like creature, did feel unique, though, but couldn't be used more than it was due to its nature).The story has several other problems, too. The least of these is the translation. Some word choices feel slightly off (for example, referring to an evil wizard as a "rotter" after he's attempted to drain the life of another character is remarkably mild), and the word order is just plain wrong at times (an early sentence ends "impatiently yelled beaten Seles."). However, this isn't bad enough to make reading a chore, even if it should have been dealt with in the editing.The pacing, on the other hand, is a more fundamental problem, at least partly due to it being the first book of a trilogy. While the book does (more-or-less) stand on its own, it spends a noticeable amount of time setting up things that will presumably become relevant later. This is understandable, and probably necessary for the overall story, but the flashbacks, demonstrations of abilities, and setting up of character roles tend to feel too long for their minimal or non-existant relevance to the story in this book. This also probably leads to another pacing problem: the resolutions of several major problems in the story, including the main one of this book, seem rather rushed, as if the author realized that they needed to be resolved soon so that there'd be a decent ending at the right point.The decision to transport the main character to our world about halfway through the book doesn't do the story any favors, either. While the hero's homeland felt a bit generic, it still felt more real than the modern world as depicted in the book. Part of this is probably due to the decision to give no indication of where in the world the unnamed city is, but there is also a definite problem with things working in completely unbelievable ways. The internet, in particular, is just as much a source of magic as the mystic veil of the hero's homeland; finding enough information in one day to be able to defeat an alarm system knowing only that it's a box with "alarm" embossed on it isn't the most unlikely thing done using it. Also, at this point, another main character is introduced, and the viewpoint tends to shift between them a bit too frequently (at least once, it changes twice on the same page).Probably the biggest problem, though, is that there never really feels like there's all that much of a threat. Various antagonists are said to be powerful or dangerous but rarely seem particularly effective when we actually see them, the shift to our world manages to render a deadline pretty much irrelevant since there's no way to tell how close it is (or even if the passage of time in our world matters at all for this), and a couple of conflicts that actually seem like they might go against the protagonists are basically cut short by the sudden arrival of more power (one a cavalry charge that serves the purpose of establishing the power of the MacGuffin, the other by the sudden emergence of a not-particularly-well-foreshadowed ability).Overall, while I think the author has potential, she needs some more practice and a better translator.

[zannyvix · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

There is a story here, that much is clear. Unfortunately, it's a bit obtuse and difficult to get to, thanks to the wording. I'm a voracious reader, and not much trips me up. I think the difficulty here comes, not from the storytelling, but from a language or translation barrier. The author is Russian, and once I understood that, the difficult names and odd syntax and awkward wording in places made a little more sense to me.If you read this book, I suggest you approach it more like a classic folktale than a modern fantasy romp. It's not really set up like the latter.

[aethercowboy · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Irina Lopatina is a Russia fantasy author. The title of her book has more hits on Google in English (2,800) than in Russian (9). However, this does not mean that the English version is phenomenal while the Russian version just isn’t. That much is left to be determined by a reader familiar enough in both languages.The translation published by Light Messages is terrible. This is thanks to Irina’s brother, Dmitry Lopatin, who translated the book from Russian to English. Considering you don’t discover who the translator is until page 375 of 377, this could lead some readers to think it’s not just the result of a lousy translation, but rather, that it’s simply a lousy book. In my experience with translated books, even if the translator does not appear on the cover, they definitely get some credit on the title page or copyright page. This would at least prevent confusion among many readers trying to figure out why the language is so choppy.Though this doesn’t excuse the Light Messages editors, whose jobs were, according to the author’s notes, to smooth out the translation. While I’m sure they liberally edited the prose, the lumps still poke through. Ultimately, it reads closer to a Google translation than anything even remotely resembling readable text.An excerpt taken from the of the Russian edition of the book (published by FabrikaFantasy) goes as follows (from Chapter 8):– Вот голову очертить – это совсем не лишнее, - деловито сказала яга. - Иначе он все твои мысли будет знать как свои; их сейчас даже пикше понять легче лёгкого. Тогда у тебя вообще не останется никаких шансов. А так – всё просто. Он почему неупокоенный? Потому что дух свой извлёк из себя и надёжно упрятал. Хочешь навсегда отправить его по ту сторону - уничтожь хранилище...For kicks, here is a direct Google translation:- Here is the head outline - it's not too much - Yaga said briskly. - Otherwise, he will know your thoughts as their own, they are now even easier to understand the haddock of the lung. Then you are left with no chance. And so - it's simple. It is why the Dead? Because his spirit to himself and pulled out safely hid. Would you like to send it all on the other side - destroy store …And the Light Messages corresponding English passage:“You definitely need to shield the workings of your mind,” the witch said in a busy manner. “Otherwise, he will know all your thoughts as easily as he knows his own. Even the pikshas are able to read your thoughts very easily. You would have no chance fighting any koschei without thought protection. Everything else is very easy. Why has he no peace? Because he pulled his spirit out of himself and hid it away. If you would like to get rid of him once and for all, you should find and destroy this storage. …”Reading and comprehending this is like trying to watch a movie from a different room. You catch snatches of images, snatches of dialogue, and have to work really hard to piece it all together into a sensible narrative. With this sort of exercise, the effort expended outweighs the enjoyment derived.Were I in charge of providing some editing, I would have done something like this to give it justice:“You must first work to shield your mind,” said the yaga without hesitation. “Otherwise, he will be able to read your thoughts as well as his own. Even now, the pikshas can see into your mind with little trouble. You would stand no chance against Koschei without more mental defense. Once you have protected your mind, though, the rest is simple. Why do you think he has no peace? It is because he drew his spirit out of himself and hid it away. If you would like to destroy him once and for all, you must seek out and destroy the vessel that holds his soul. …”Lopatina crafts an interesting story, but to read it in its present format, the reader must work extra hard to draw out the narrative’s life blood. Were this book better translated, I would recommend it to any fan of fantasy looking for something new. However, with the current state of the translation, I would recommend not reading it unless (a) you can get the Russian edition and can actually read and comprehend it, or (b) Lopatin releases a more professional translation that has been polished and buffed to near perfection. At that point, I wouldn’t mind having a heavily edited version of this book on the same shelves as Tolkien, Le Guin, and other authors who inspired Lopatina to draft this book in the first place, but only after that. Until then, I cannot in a clear conscience recommend this book to any fan of literature or fantasy or books in general. It much too much of a chore to read.

[radella_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Like with much Russian literature I have read, I found it necessary to reread the preface several times through in order to figure out just which characters were which. There’s brothers, nephews, various important personages (although the entire novel shows a distinct lack of any strong, multidimensional female characters… but that’s a thought for later) and plethora preternatural critters. There was so much thrown at the reader so fast, it was a bit of a struggle to figure out who was doing what, and why it was important. I also needed to reread it several times because I kept getting lost in the syntax. The book was originally written in Russian, and it was quite evident that the translator was good, but not a native English speaker. The copy I was provided was an ARC, and so I hope before publication a good copy-editor would be able to straighten things out… however, after some brief research into the publisher, that hope is unlikely. The troubles with the syntax made the reading laborious, as I spent most of my time mentally rewriting the story rather than getting lost amongst the pages.I really did enjoy the way the story took place in both a wholly fantasy realm and a more urban fantasy realm. The crossover was interesting, and reminiscent of Doctor Who or the movie Thor. I love when fantasy meshes with the classical folktales and mythology of a place. the White Raven branches that with a variety of Russian critters that are completely interesting, and make me want to become more familiar with the folktales of the area. It was a fabulous blending of genres.Vragio fits neatly into the classic hero archetype…. He’s a fatherless prince, able to use magic. He goes off on a Epic Quest, where he must prove himself over and over. It’s all there, in fairly obvious form. Nik is the unlikely helper to Vragio’s hero. He’s a geek, just trying to make enough money to continue to take classes at University. While they’re both likeable and interesting, they really feel a bit bland within the confines of their respective roles. Overall, it was enjoyable, and I look forward to the remaining books in the trilogy.

[somewhatbent · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

White Raven: The Sword of Northern Ancestors by Irina Lopatina, Illustrations by Igor Adasikov(377 pages) Trade Paper ARC ©2012 Light Messages PublishingDisclosure: This book was received as part of the LibraryThing Early Reviewer Program.Without looking at the author notes in the back of the book it was clear from the beginning that this was originally not an English-language book. I suspected this based on how some of the early character interactions were structured. Editorially, it tightens up considerably later in the book into more commonly used (Americanized) sentence and paragraph structures.It quickly develops along classical fairy tale lines; a fatherless prince, druids, and magii. Magic is commonplace, but not everyone is ‘Endowed’ with that talent. There are other woodland residents; some friendly, some indifferent, and some downright malign. A sudden increase in evil and dangerous creatures set the stage for destruction.Pursuing an artifact that may save his people Vragio finds himself – or, rather is found by Nik, an unlikely geek – in the current time. His journey, it seems, has led him through not only magical layers of the Universe, but also of Time. Weres and Witches and darker creatures still exist, but appear in very different forms. There doesn’t seem to be a magical veil from which to draw Energy, but Vragio finds there is, in fact, a little magic left in this time.The story plays out in nearly classical fairy tale fashion. Without leaving spoilers Vragio does find the Sword of the Northern Ancestors and heads back to his own time in space. There are many, many loose ends by the end of the book implying, if not requiring, additional books in this series. I look forward to seeing where these characters go. Even with the trials of translation they have been made full and rich enough to care about, and despite the somewhat predictable progression, I want to see where the story takes me next.