Kitobni o'qish: «Omlion and his friends. Adventures in the Lonetal Valley»

© Yury Trofimov, text, illustrations, 2021

© Aegitas publishing house, 2023

eISBN 978-0-3694-1046-7

All rights reserved. It is prohibited to copy or reproduce the book or any part thereof in electronic or mechanical form, in form of a photocopy, recording in computer memory, reproduction or in any other way, as well as to use it in any information system without prior consent of the publisher. Copying, reproduction and other use of the book or part thereof without prior consent of the publisher is illegal and will result in criminal, administrative, and civil liability.

Dedicated to my son Leo, my daughter Polina, and all superhero children.

PROLOGUE

 
Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?
I’ve been to London to look at the queen.
Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you do there?
I frightened a little mouse under the chair.
 

Samuil Marshak

Snow lioness Isata silently glided along a narrow path on the mountainside. The night was moonless, and the stars shined especially brightly. It seemed not a single dark spot remained in the entire sky where this light would not reach.

The lioness looked up and saw a shooting star. It was not one of those short flashes one can witness during an autumn starfall – this one looked more like a drop of light flowing down the sky. Isata took a closer look and realized that the star was about to fall on the other side of the ridge. Once the shine was gone, the lioness froze for a moment, listening, and then rushed to the place where the star fell.

Once she reached the mountain, Isata hid in the branches of a bush and observed for a while. Night insects were singing, and cold wind gusts pressed the rough grass down to the rocky ground. Having recognized something new in the familiar mixture of smells, the lioness walked down the slope and noticed a man lying amidst a scorched clearing. He looked completely unharmed, and even his blue and silver clothes were intact. Isata walked around him carefully and, after taking a good sniff, clearly understood that he was not dangerous. The lioness had never seen people so close before, but she knew for sure that they did not fall down from the sky like snow. She approached and examined the newcomer carefully, then she slightly licked his ashen forehead and dark hair with her rough tongue just in case.

With a quiet groan the stranger opened his eyes. When he saw the lioness in front of him, the man was not scared. He raised his hand and placed his fingers on her forehead, above the bridge of her nose. Without having time to get indignant, Isata felt incredible heaviness of her eyelids and slid to where the star man called her.

A bright flash covered the mind of the lioness. Once the light dissipated, Isata found herself in a spacious marble hall with carved columns and a long luminous table, at which sat people in colorful clothes. They paid no attention to the lioness, as if she was not there. A flock of small translucent creatures were circling above the table. Like fish, they were floating and frolicking in the air, as if no gravity was affecting them.

“This is Khabir, the city of Stat, my home.” Isata heard the thoughts of the star man. “It was very beautiful. Under the light of the blue sun, there was prosperity, without any wars or diseases. I was so blinded by the welfare of my people that I completely overlooked one fact: even the brightest light creates shadows.”

Among the colorful figures arguing animatedly Isata saw her new acquaintance. He was sitting at the head of the table, deep in thought. His hair was black and short, his beard was thick and neat, and his kind green eyes looked right through, as if they saw something invisible, hidden from others.

“Kriy, where is your heir? Time is running out,” one of the figures asked, turning to the star man.

“Rasens, we still have a couple of minutes left,” Kriy said, smiling slightly at the impatience.

The dark lacquered wood doors opened, and a man marched into the hall. Judging by the indignant voices, he was not the one everyone expected.

“How dare you come here?” the man at the table, to whom Kriy had been talking a moment before, shouted indignantly.

The star man signaled to them to stop shouting, got up from the table, and moved towards the dark silhouette, but soon froze in his tracks.

“You are Patsovak, aren’t you? Colonel Patsovak?” Kriy asked trying to look the intruder in the eye. He should not have done this…

Although Isata considered herself a brave lioness, she could hardly overcome the urge to close her eyes tight – the colonel’s gaze burned your soul out. Patsovak waved his hand imperiously, and right above the table, where the jellyfish-like creatures used to circle, a dark purple whirlwind rose that instantly enwrapped everyone present.

The vision faded away, and Isata opened her eyes. Kriy patted her head gratefully. The lioness understood that the star man was willing to share the end of the story with her, and this time she pushed her forehead against his palm herself.

A white flash blinded her, but then it dissipated. The lioness realized that she was in a completely different place now. She heard the sounds of falling drops and grinding of metal. Stale air and choking smell of mold between the stones in the walls of an ancient dungeon indicated that she was very deep underground.

There were no sources of light in the cell, except for fluorescent mushrooms growing between mossy cobblestones. However, this did not bother Isata at all: the sharp sight of a nocturnal predator allowed her to navigate even in pitch darkness.

Six gigantic chains hung from the ceiling of the cell, holding the prisoner. This was the star man. He swayed from side to side quietly, humming some melody to himself.

A deafening crick-crack could be heard; then, one of the cell walls simply melted away, flowing hissingly down onto the damp stone floor slabs. A thin man wearing a white coat and glasses appeared in the newly formed passage. He ran up to Kriy and started tampering with the chains.

Kriy shook his head listlessly. “What are you doing, Laurent… leave it, you have to save the others. Where are Ameed and Rasens?”

“The others are already on Earth. Wait a minute! We cannot let him seize your power. Close your eyes!” With these words, Laurent pulled some device from inside his coat with trembling hands and pointed it at Kriy.

A blinding green flash illuminated the dungeon, and Isata shut her eyes reflexively.

“Nasty chains, even the deatomizer won’t break them! What are they made of?” The dissatisfied man stared at the sparkling device, scratching the back of his head.

“It doesn’t matter, Laurent, listen to me!” Kriy did his best to maintain the eye contact. “The most important thing now is to preserve Khabir’s legacy. Listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you. Patsovak doesn’t know that the genesis code can only be transmitted by inheritance or with the consent of all clans. He will never figure it out without the help of a council member. Thus, other worlds are safe.”

Laurent was about to protest, but, on reflection, he put the device aside and took a silver bracelet with a large green stone out of his pocket. “Then you take this,” he said and snapped the piece of jewelry on Kriy’s hand. “While you’re chained, the inaccuracy is too high. But if you manage to break free…”

“Laurent… my dear brave Laurent, I’m begging you, don’t come to me. Take the teleporter and go to Earth to join the others, they need your help more than I do.”

“No, Kriy, I…” The scientist’s eyes were bright with confidence. “I will stay here. I will stay on Khabir to make sure that Patsovak never finds out about the genesis.”

At this, he disappeared. It was perfect timing: the corridor behind the destroyed wall began to fill with excited voices, and then heavy, measured steps were heard.

“Look at the mess you’ve made here!” the cloaked silhouette, who burst into the dungeon, roared. “Are you still trying to get away from me? So, know this: you will be imprisoned until you give me your power, or else Khabir will burn to ashes right before your eyes.”

“The only thing you’ll get from me is pity,” the star man replied. “Are you that afraid of me, Colonel? You chained me, you threw me in the dungeon. Who are you without your cliones? Nothing but a coward…”

“Shut up!” The silhouette waved the flaps of its cloak and pointed the same device that had just been used to melt the wall at the prisoner.

On seeing the shiny weapon, the star man just grinned. “You will never be able to do this. The clans will figure out what has happened and then you won’t escape punishment. Your power is as fragile and shattered as your will, Colonel.”

At that point, the lioness thought she heard a light ringing, as if a crystal pendant had broken. The room was illuminated by the brightest green flash.

The memory started to ripple and then began to collapse like a house of cards. Fragments of events from different places and timelines got completely mixed up in the lioness’s head. It seemed that the entire life of the newcomer floated before her eyes. Isata felt scraps of his feelings flying through her and echoing in her with sadness, regret, and hope. She could still hear Kriy’s voice clearly in her head. “Forgive me, it is wrong to end the story so abruptly, but my powers are running out. I am losing control of my own mind.”

The white veil fell from Isata’s eyes, as she came back to the reality. The star man was still lying in front of her. The lioness saw the reflection of the fading memory in his eyes. Kriy’s hand fell to the ground helplessly. The lioness lay down next to the newcomer to share her warmth.

“The bracelet absorbed most of the shot energy, but, unfortunately, it got broken. That is why I appeared that high,” Kriy said, looking the lioness in the eye. “You are very kind,” he whispered gratefully as he stroked her behind her ears. Isata purred, willing to ease his pain. “Could you do something for me?”

The lioness bowed her head in agreement. Kriy put his hand on her forehead for the last time, and Isata felt his power flowing into her and gathering into a warm lump under her heart. She closed her eyes, falling asleep.

CHAPTER 1. THE BREAKFAST

Deus ex machina is the same thing as a rabbit in a hat.The only difference is that the first one appears on its own, while the second has to be pulled out.

Author’s Note

A morning should start with a healthy breakfast. This Omlion knew for sure. It was seven in the morning. Omlion could have slept longer, but he wondered whether he would be able to make that smoothie whose recipe he had found the night before in a famous bartender’s blog. So, he quickly wrapped himself in a cozy kimono robe and ran downstairs to the kitchen to look for the ingredients.

“Ameed! Aameeeeed!” Omlion called drawlingly.

There was no one in the kitchen. Patches of sunlight shined on the jars with various herbs and exotic varieties of coffee. Noise of cars could be heard from the street, and there was а bunch of keys and a note on the counter with the cash machine.

I flew to Tibet. I will be back in few days with souvenirs. Watch the shop and stay out of trouble. New neighbors are arriving today, they are friends of mine. If they come over, treat them to our specialty coffee.

Ameed

It was not the first time that Omlion was taking charge of the place. So, he knew exactly what to do. He brushed his teeth, smiled to the blonde guy in the mirror, switched on the coffee machine, opened the cash box, wiped the counter, and put a can with “Tips” written on it.

The house where Ameed and Omlion lived was one of those typical Utrecht houses. The three-story building in a classical Dutch style faced the canal and consisted of a coffee shop on the ground floor and residential rooms on the first and second floors. Ameed had a soft spot for his tiny place. When Omlion grew up a bit, the old man taught him to cook, run the coffee shop, and make the best coffee in Utrecht.

Omlion changed his clothes and opened the shop itself and windows on the ground floor for the aroma of fresh coffee to bring in the clients. Then, he sat down on a tall bar stool at the counter, took out his tablet, opened Food Network to check the smoothie recipe in detail, and started to wait for visitors.

He did not have to wait for long. Hardly had Omlion found that very recipe, when the doorbell rang, and a girl looking the same age as him entered the coffee shop.

“Hey! Anybody home?”

“Hello, I am! Please come in!” Omlion replied in a friendly manner and looked at the young guest with interest.

She looked totally like a cartoon character. When the girl talked, her cute oblong face with prominent cheeks seemed to live its own life. She was wearing a nice pale pink dress, and her long hazel hair was pulled into a neat ponytail with an elastic with fancy pompoms. Her sharp nose as well as her loud and fast speech were the signs of an extremely energetic temper.

“You are Omlion, right? Dad told me about you. I am Arewa, I have recently moved in nearby.”

The girl extended her hand, and Omlion immediately shook it. “Oh! Exactly, Ameed told me that a neighbor would be coming. However, I didn’t expect you that early.”

“Early to bed and early to rise…” Arewa declaimed with her nose in the air, but immediately burst out laughing.

Omlion also laughed. “Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. Would you like some coffee?” He put a large white mug on the counter.

“Thanks, but Dad doesn’t let me have coffee, he says it turns me into a nuclear reactor without cooling.”

Omlion hardly knew how nuclear reactors operate, but he removed the mug.

“I’m going to make a tamarillo smoothie. Tamarillos are tree tomatoes. They are tasty, healthy, and definitely don’t explode.”

“But do tomatoes grow on trees? Tomatoes are vegetables.” Arewa looked at her new acquaintance in disbelief.

“To be honest, these aren’t really tomatoes. They are more like fruit. In fact, these are sweet and sour berries. They grow in our roof garden. Would you like to see?”

“Lead the way! You are the boss here.”

“Let’s go, I’ll close the door!”

While Omlion was fiddling with the keys, Arewa was inspecting the store.

The entire room was divided into two unequal parts with a carved oak counter. There was a cash machine on it and a million little things. Tiny teapots, figurines, clay whistles, and candles of all shapes and sizes. In the hall where Arewa was standing, the walls were decorated with thin wooden panels featuring images of animals, plants, and celestial bodies. Some of the pictures were quite realistic, while others were clearly the fruit of the artist’s imagination.

“Are you coming?” Omlion asked, opening the counter.

“Yeah,” the girl answered and followed Omlion up the narrow wooden stairs to the first floor. “And how old are you?”

“I’m 10, and you?”

“It is inappropriate to ask girls this question,” Arewa wrinkled her nose in an emphatic manner.

“Why?”

“To be honest, I don’t know, it’s just inappropriate and improper, that’s all…” The girl stopped and looked at the ceiling pensively. “What room is this?”

The kids went up to the second floor – a bright room with straw mats and small paper lanterns on the walls.

“This is our dōjō¹!” Omlion said proudly, running out to the middle of the room. “Ameed teaches me martial arts here.”

He got into the fighting stance, took a deep breath, and made a lightning-fast kick with his leg. The rubber flip-flop slipped off the boy’s foot, cutting through the air with a whistling sound, and flew a centimeter away from the guest, who barely had time to move away.

Omlion froze in horror at what he had done. Arewa picked up the flip-flop, took a close look at it, and playfully glanced at the rising kung fu star. Omlion bit his lip guiltily. He never stopped doing this, despite Ameed’s constant reproofs.

“You missed, what else is there to say? Where is your warrior concentration?” Arewa laughed.

Embarrassed and swallowing an apology, Omlion didn’t notice the flip-flop flying back to him. He was not able to catch or return it, not even move away. Arewa knew how to throw.

“Come on, don’t pout! You’ll walk it off,” she consoled Omlion, who was confusedly rubbing a large red spot on his forehead. “My Dad trains me, too. Let’s go get your tree tomatoes.”

In a small winter garden on the roof of the house, there were plants useful for any kitchen: thyme, basil, coriander, dill, lettuce, some vegetables, and fruit trees. While the kids were collecting everything for the smoothie, Arewa took a closer look at Omlion and found his appearance somewhat unusual. It was not repulsive, but non-standard, to put it mildly. Wide bridge of the nose, ashy tousled hair. Two small, but prominent fangs drew attention when the boy spoke or laughed. His light smoky-blue eyes looked at the girl with inexpressible horror.

“Your hand!” the boy whispered and dramatically covered his mouth with his palms.

“What? What?” Arewa got scared and looked at her hand holding a bunch of fresh herbs. “An ordinary hand, a little dirty with soil, but it seems okay…”

Having noticed some movement in the basil leaves, the girl screamed in surprise. She threw the herbs down and jumped away from the garden bed, while continuing to scream like a police siren.

“Ha, ha-ha-ha! What a coward you are!” Omlion burst into loud laughter, as he picked up the wriggling lizard’s tail from the ground.

Once Arewa realized that Omlion had outplayed her, she turned as red as a beetroot, approached the boy, took the find from him, and pretended to eat it with a loud “nom-nom”. Omlion’s whitish eyebrows furrowed in extreme disgust.

“You don’t have to…”

“Call me if you find the rest of it. I prefer to start from the head,” the girl said as she chuckled and picked up the basil she had dropped.

Having collected all the necessary ingredients, the children returned to the ground floor, joking and egging on each other. Arewa politely asked what she could do to help, but Omlion was willing to do everything by himself.

“If you really want, you can wash the vegetables. But you better wait. You are my guest, aren’t you?” he said kindly.

“Right. To be honest, I’m not a fan of cooking,” the girl admitted, as she sat down at the counter, observing the young chef pulling out knives, a blender, glasses, and straws.

“Everyone should know how to cook,” Omlion said in surprise. “Ameed told me that even Tibetan monks have to learn this. Otherwise, how will they live if they can’t cook for themselves and there is no one to ask for help? You know, monasteries are in the mountains, you can’t order pizza there.”

“I’ve never thought about this,” Arewa admitted frankly. “But I can cook. It’s just that I don’t like it.”

“I see. Everyone has their own hobby. But I enjoy it. There are so many different options to do things. And I can also juggle, look!”

Omlion grabbed the last four tamarillos, but he never got a chance to show his talents.

An awfully buzzing drone flew into the store through an open window and smashed into the wooden panel with a shabby image of a planet, leaving a big hole in it. In a minute, a head wearing glasses appeared in the kitchen window. Its owner looked as if he had gone for his first ever morning jog: his round cheeks glowed with blush, his glasses got askew, and his eyes burned with indignation.

“Have you seen my drone? It was flying in this direction!”

Surprised Omlion and Arewa exchanged glances and stared back at the boy indignantly.

“It’s here! Your gadget has destroyed my wall!” Omlion picked up the device and went to inspect the hole in the wall, clicking his tongue. He slightly bent forward, as he checked the breach, wondering if he should look inside.

“Please forgive me,” the boy looked down and smoothed his curly bangs guiltily. “Yesterday I was sitting and thinking about how to make artificial intelligence for a drone. I kept thinking the whole evening and wrote a program, but it seems that it is lacking computational power…”

“I don’t know about the drone, but you are clearly lacking something! What if one of us had been standing at this very spot?” Arewa got rightly indignant as she pointed at the broken wall that Omlion was inspecting.

“Well, in theory, the neural network was supposed to recognize a human and stop the propellers on time…” the uninvited guest reflected seriously on the question.

“In theory?!” Arewa burst out with indignation.

“Guys?” Omlion’s voice came as if from a bottle, distracting the arguing kids from the dispute. “It turns out I’ve got a basement, and it also seems that I got a little stuck here…”

It was exactly as he’d described: Omlion’s head stuck firmly in the hole, preventing him from moving in any direction. Omlion was quite agile, but he was lacking experience and understanding that he should not put his head in every hole. But his curiosity was enough and to spare.

“Are you going to hang on the window like this?” Arewa addressed the one guilty of the disaster.

There was no answer.

Arewa looked out the window. The drone pilot was trying to sneak away scampering along the path paved with white stones leading to the gate.

“Hey, you!” the girl shouted to him. “Don’t you want to go back and fix everything?”

He did not answer and began to walk faster.

“Well, then the drone is ours!”

The boy stopped, turned around, and reluctantly walked back, having realized that he was too hasty to escape.

“Come in, let’s help him get out of there,” Arewa said as she met him at the doorstep.

The kids tried to free Omlion from the wooden captivity, but this only made the poor fellow scream indignantly. They pushed the panel trying to break it.

“What if we pull instead of pushing?” Arewa suggested. “If he managed to get there, he will also manage to get out. One! Two!”

On the count of three, the remains of the decorative panel fell apart with a crunch, and disheveled and slightly shocked Omlion got released from the prickly embrace.

The boy with glasses extended his hand to him and helped him get up.

“By the way, I’m Soul.”

“Omlion, very… very nice to meet you,” the boy said, shaking pieces of wood out of his hair. “And she is Arewa, my new neighbor.”

“What a coincidence,” Soul perked up. “So, all of us are neighbors!”

“Do you also live here?” Arewa asked with disappointment.

“Not really,” Soul replied. “My parents came here for vacation and brought me along.”

“Wow, lucky you. Ameed never brings me along on his trips.” Omlion sighed.

“Ameed?” Soul repeated as he picked up the drone, assessing the severity of the damage.

“My guardian and owner of the wall that you broke. He often flies to different countries… doing spiritual practices.”

“I don’t know about practices, but your guardian clearly has secrets,” Arewa said, nodding towards the passage that formed in the wall. “How about checking what’s there?”

Stone steps were visible in the opening. The stairs led down, dissolving in the dark, enticing children with their mystery and enigma, as they promised discoveries and perhaps even adventures.

On hearing the invitation, Soul pressed the remains of the drone to his chest and jabbered, “Oh, no, no, no, I’m not coming. I will have to repair it now, do reflashing; otherwise, dust may get inside or something…”

He stopped short, as he caught the kids staring at him.

“Aren’t you interested in what’s down there?” Omlion asked.

“I know pretty well how it all happens, I saw it in movies.” Soul straightened his glasses, which had slipped down. “First they will eat me, as I’m the… well…”

He hesitated, searching for the right word.

“Slowest?” Omlion couldn’t stop himself from saying this.

“The tastiest!” Soul flared. “What if your guardian is actually doing some creepy experiments down there? Then we will be the only witnesses. Oh no…” Soul’s voice trembled. Arewa was to blame, as she quickly grabbed Soul, who was about to sneak away again, by the collar.

“No way, hacker, you made this mess, and it’s up to you to sort it out. You are coming with us.”

“All right, all right, just let me go…” He snorted.

The kids descended the stairs to the basement with great caution. Omlion was walking ahead, Arewa was following him, calming down poor Soul, who refused to let go of the hem of her dress and was ready to do anything just to get out of this adventure as quickly as possible.

Flashlights on phones could barely cope with the thick darkness, highlighting fancy items of the interior. Passing by a worn-out bathroom where an ancient tube TV set rested, Omlion tried to shed some light to the depth of the basement, but the flashlight power was not enough.

“Can anyone see the switch?” Omlion enquired.

“Аah! There’s something moving here!” Soul shouted.

“It’s my leg!” the girl replied in a cold voice.

“Phew! Here, I think I’ve found some button!”

Click. The basement got filled with a quiet hum, and then a faint red light switched on and outlined the silhouette of the mechanism in the middle of the room. Corrugated pipes and various cables stretched between the boxes full of all sorts of junk. The web of wires ended where THIS began. In the middle of the basement, there was a large dark sphere with a red triangle in the center. Omlion approached it, hesitated for a while, and then put his hand on the metal surface and listened. “Guys, it’s warm… and it’s like… it’s singing!”

“I can hear it, too!” Arewa said, listening together with Omlion.

“I can’t hear anything, how about leaving this place?” Soul drawled, as he looked around.

“I think I know what this is!” Arewa exclaimed suddenly.

“No way!” Omlion turned around.

“There was a basement with the same thing at our old house. Broiler, I think… Wait, broiler is a chicken. Right, this is a water boiler!”

“Well, I’m not sure…” Soul interrupted as he walked along the cables. “Why would a water boiler need that much energy?

A bunch of wires led to a grey wall, on which someone mounted a stand with a monitor on it. There was some code running on the screen line by line. Once the boy approached it, a keyboard came out from under the monitor.

“What do you have there?” Omlion asked, while Arewa was staring at the flickering red triangle.

“There is some interface here,” the boy replied as he scanned the lines with his eyes. “According to the code, an enormous array of data is being uploaded now. And there are two options here. Either your guardian is the owner of the most advanced heating system in the world, or this is not a boiler at all.”

“А-а-а!” the girl screamed loudly. “It looked at me! It was watching!”

Jumping over a pile of boxes, Omlion ran up to her and stared at the sphere. Under the triangular glass, there was a tiny machine moving on a needle-thin hinge that glared with its ruby eye at the petrified children.

“Soul…” Omlion called, as he took Arewa’s hand and was slowly backing to the wall.

“Data uploaded! Wow!” Soul’s amazed voice came from the corner. “There are at least ten zettabytes here. The entire Internet doesn’t weigh that much!”

“This is, of course, very cool, but could you, well… switch the thing off?” Arewa shouted, trying to cover the growing hum coming from the center of the sphere.

“No problem,” the voice in the corner said. “There is even a switch here. How did I not notice it right away? It’s big and red!”

“Wait!” Omlion shouted, but it was too late.

The machine began to come to life under the gaze of the children. Once it got half a meter above the floor, it made a deafening low-frequency hum and started to draw various garbage and scrap metal. The TV flew right in front of Omlion’s face with a loud “bang” and crashed into an invisible wall in front of the sphere. In a matter of seconds, the machine dismantled it into parts and completed its rapidly growing garbage skeleton.

“Wrong switch! Wrong switch!” Soul shouted and rushed towards the stairs, but fell down midway, tripping over a piece of iron pipe lying on the floor.

“Guys, run!” Omlion shouted, but his voice was drowned by the noise of the mechanism.

An arm covered in ceramic crumbs landed right in front of the stairs and blocked their escape route.

“What is this thing?!” Arewa shouted in fear as she was helping Soul get up.

“No idea, but it’s looking right at us!” Omlion replied in a slightly trembling voice. He turned his back to the children, intending to bear the brunt. As Soul got up, he pushed the pipe, and it rolled towards Omlion’s feet. The boy picked it up quickly and stood up, ready to bring the fight to the machine.