The Gaze of the Raven

© 2024 Serhii Adamenko. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  10/17/2024

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8989-0 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8990-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024919518

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Contents

Preface

Teker

The Raven

Laura

Bianca

Nathaniel

Passang

Netsumi

Peter

Svitlana

Epilogue

Preface

Dear Readers,

I am delighted to introduce to you the second book of my trilogy — The Gaze of the Raven. I hope you enjoyed the first book, where I began exploring my thoughts on the soul’s eternity. A long time ago, I read a book written by Lobsang Rampa titled The Third Eye. It had a profound effect on me, as at that time, I knew nothing about the transmigration of the soul and life after death. Only after writing my first book, The Flight of the Butterfly, did I recall it and decided to dedicate one of the characters in The Raven to the hero of The Third Eye.

By the time I wrote The Raven, I had accumulated enough different ideas and knowledge, having delved into the study of history and various religious beliefs. In this book, you will also observe the story of the soul’s journey through nine incarnations, where, during its earthly life, it intersects with the soul I described in The Butterfly. Same, as in the previous book, here you will read about love, reflections on the meaning of life, devotion to the Motherland, death and following reincarnation, travelling in a dream and the effects of déjà vu, the path to God, and much more. The events described may coincide with real historical incidents but do not correspond to reality. The countries and nationalities of the characters are unspecified, but by certain signs, you may be able to recognize the country in which they take place. I wish you a pleasant time with The Raven and hope you will enjoy this book.

Yours Serhii Adamenko

Teker

Teker slowly opened his eyelids. The thought that this was his last morning pierced his consciousness. He breathed heavily, drops of sweat trickling down his temples. The old Janissary¹ understood everything and his mind, fogged by illness, cleared instantly.

My last day has come, thought Teker. Well, so what? I have lived a long life, and I am not ashamed to stand before Allah.

Then he remembered his dream, which awoke him in a cold sweat. It was indeed a terrible vision. Teker dreamed he was a raven: flying, looking at the ground from above, soaring in the clouds with other birds, black ravens like himself. Suddenly Teker saw people on the ground killing each other. It was a great battle. The entire earth was covered with the bodies of the fallen. There were so many that it was impossible to count. They lay alongside horses, blood flowing from all sides down the hill, small streams gradually merging into raging torrents. After the battle, it was time for the feast. Ravens flew in from everywhere and began their meal. Teker sat on the chest of a young fallen warrior. His face was pale and serene. He appeared to be resting. Teker was

about to peck at his eyes when the warrior suddenly opened them and stared intently at the bird. Startled, the raven jumped aside. Horrified, Teker realised it was his son looking at him. The same one whose birth a gypsy had foretold and who would never come into the world.

It was noisy at the slave market. The sun was already nearing its peak. In the busy square, merchants from various countries competed for business trying to outshout each other. Near the entrance, a few beggars with outstretched hands pleaded for alms. The Khan’s² guards patrolled the rows, keeping order. Here and there, dervishes³ in tattered robes wandered, occasionally stopping to talk with some of the sellers or buyers. The visitors could buy everything there: handmade carpets, fine silk, spices, kitchen utensils, domestic animals and birds. But the main goods were located in the corner of the square: captives taken during the last raid to the north. Frightened children stood next to the adults guarded by several armed warriors who prevented the crowd from getting too close to the slaves.

For a moment, the market fell silent and then it buzzed differently – the slave trading began. The square was immediately filled with the shouts of sellers and buyers of humans. First, strong young men were selected for the sultan’s fleet of galleys⁴. Then, eunuchs⁵ took the most beautiful girls aside for the Khan’s harem⁶. Elderly captives and young girls were taken by lone buyers who needed workers for their households. The most valuable goods remained – the boys. They huddled together, glancing fearfully at the people surrounding them. When the clamour of the trade died down, a tall blue-eyed warrior in a high hat, with a long white plume hung to his waist and a yataghan at his side, approached the boys. He looked them over carefully and uttered something in a language they did not understand and gestured for them to follow him.

Vasylko, cautiously glancing around, struggled to keep up with his fellow captives who followed the warrior. They moved through the city’s narrow streets, revealing to the boy a new world. Onlookers curiously watched the procession.

Yasir,⁷ — Vasylko heard several times as the captives marched through the crowds. He was fearful as he didn’t understand that word. The big warrior kept a close eye on the fearful dozen captives in case they lagged or tried to escape. But the scared boys did not even think of running. They trudged, huddled together, looking around in fear.

As they passed a small square, a young gypsy woman in bright clothing approached Vasylko and placed a bread loaf in his hand. He hesitated for a second but did not let go of the loaf, pressing it to his chest. The woman quickly disappeared into the crowd. Vasylko didn’t even have time to look at her closely, as her face was hidden by a scarf. He only remembered her black, coal-like eyes, looking with kindness and pity. Vasylko hid the loaf under his shirt and continued.

Soon the procession reached the port where many different ships were docked. There were fishing boats, small schooners, and galleys. A large frigate was anchored at the entrance to the port. Vasylko had never seen the sea and he gazed in amazement at the endless water. The white seagulls circled above the waves as the scorching sun’s rays reflected on the blue waters. There was a large lake near his village, where he went fishing with his father, but the boy could never imagine there could be so much water that its end would not be visible.

The procession approached the galley, from which a gangway had been lowered. The blue-eyed warrior stopped to inspect the crowd of boys. They stood huddled together, fearfully looking around. It was clear that not only Vasylko was seeing the sea and ships for the first time. The warrior glanced over the boys and was satisfied. Everyone was present and no one had fallen behind. He jabbered something while pointing to the gangway. The boys, terrified, huddled even closer together and did not move. The warrior shouted again, his face taking on a fierce expression, while he pointed with his hand for the boys to board via the gangway. The eldest of the boys cautiously stepped onto it and began to climb up.

One by one, they climbed aboard, where another warrior similarly dressed awaited them. He said something and, waving his hand, led the boys away. The children, hunched over, walked through a narrow wooden passageway, flanked by rows of half-naked people chained to the oars. Many of them had visible scars from severe wounds on their backs and sides.

Trembling, they passed the rows of oarsmen. No one spoke a word, only the silent gazes of the chained slaves followed them. They descended a staircase into the hold and the hatch closed behind them. The young captives were enveloped in complete darkness. The stifling air reeked of vomit and human excrement. Gradually, their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and they settled on the straw piled in a corner. Exhausted from their ordeal, they fell asleep instantly.

They slept a long time and eventually awoke to the hold’s floor creaking from side to side. It became clear to everyone that the galley was sailing on the sea. Faint rays of sunlight penetrated through the cracks in the hatch which enabled them to become familiar with their dark surroundings. They were very hungry and more so thirsty. However, the hatch was closed and no one dared to open it. Then Vasylko remembered the flatbread he had hidden in his shirt and took it out. The smell of bread spread through the hold. His fellow captives looked at him with hungry eyes from the darkness. Vasylko divided the bread into equal parts and gave some to each of the boys. Everyone greedily pounced on the food and at that moment, it seemed that there was nothing tastier in the world than that bread. The feeling of hunger subsided a little, but their thirst only grew stronger.

A while later the hatch opened, and a stranger appeared. He pointed his finger at the eldest boy and gestured to him to come up. The boy slowly climbed the stairs. A few minutes later, he returned, holding a water skin and two large loaves of bread. The bread was again divided equally. Then everyone took turns drinking from the water skin. The cool water gave the captives strength, and they revived a bit.

Time passed and no one disturbed the boys further, so they comfortably settled back to sleep on the straw. They were awakened by loud cries on the deck. Not understanding anything, the boys stood up and stared at the hatch: the only place that connected them to the outside world.

What is happening? Vasylko asked, most likely to himself.

We’ll find out soon, the eldest boy responded, glancing around at the others.

In the semi-darkness, their frightened faces were visible. Some of the children did not understand the language Vasylko and the eldest boy were speaking, which made everyone feel more uneasy.

What’s your name? the teenager asked Vasylko.

Vasylko. What about yours?

Yaroslav, the boy replied. Stay close to me and don’t be afraid. It’s always easier together.

Suddenly, the hatch opened, and bright sunlight flooded the hold. The boys squinted and covered their eyes with hands. In the opening, they saw the same warrior who had brought them from the market to the galley. He said something in his language and gestured for the boys to climb up.

The boys headed up, shielding their eyes from the blazing sun. The warrior pointed and they again walked between the rows of slaves chained to the oars. Dozens of eyes wistfully watched the boys as they headed to the shore. The boys felt unbearable pain from these looks, understanding that a grim fate awaited them.

Once more, they filed along the long path through the streets of the unknown, majestic city. The boys looked curiously and fearfully at the fortress walls, clay houses, and tall minarets. Everything was unfamiliar and strange to them. Passing by a crowd of traders, Vasylko heard someone whisper: ‘Devshirme’⁸. He did not know what this word meant, but he understood it referred to them. They stopped at the big house and the accompanying warrior led them inside. He pointed to a shaded corner, and they sat on the ground. Their wait was short. Soon, a man in a turban⁹ and long robe appeared, clapped his hands, and signalled for the boys to follow him. They stood up and marched down to a basement where they joined other boys who looked at the newcomers with distrust and fear. The new arrivals silently settled on the floor. Vasylko made himself comfortable next to Yaroslav. Closer to night, he spoke to his new friend: What do you think is going to happen to us?

I don’t know, but I think we’ll find out everything tomorrow morning. In any case, let’s stick together, Yaroslav replied.

The long journey had exhausted the boys, and they fell into a deep sleep. Vasylko dreamed of his mother, who was walking through a wheat field carrying a basket of food. She looked at him with tenderness and love.

I’ll feed you now, my little one, she said, but suddenly the sky darkened, and a tremendous hurricane swept in and carried her far beyond the horizon.

Vasylko screamed and woke up. He looked around. It was hard to see