Tsar Muzarbiy

Once upon a time, there lived a king named Muzarbiy. He had only one daughter and no one else. The king loved his daughter more than life itself.

Every evening, the king would climb a high tower and from there, he would let out a terrifying cry to frighten the devs (demons) that surrounded his kingdom. These devs constantly threatened to invade his lands and destroy his subjects.

The devs feared Muzarbiy, and upon hearing his cry, they dared not approach his domain. This is how Muzarbiy protected his kingdom at night. During the day, he would take his bow and arrows and, wherever he spotted devs, he would shoot off their heads with his arrows as if they were onion tops.

Muzarbiy had a wife whose heart yearned for the greatest and most fearsome dev of all—the Twelve-Headed Flint Dev.

Eventually, Muzarbiy's time came, and he died. His wife rejoiced, for she loved the twelve-headed dev. While Muzarbiy was alive, she feared him and hid her love, but now, try as she might, she couldn't conceal her joy from her daughter.

The daughter noticed her mother's joy and said:

"A misfortune has befallen us—our father has died. What shall we do here alone? The devs will invade any day now and devour us all. It would be better for us to flee to the mountains and spend the rest of our days there."

The mother didn't like this idea and said:

"I am old now—whether a dev takes me or death comes, it's all the same to me. You, my daughter, do as you see fit, but I have no strength to drag my old head anywhere."

The daughter replied:

"No, you must come with me. Get dressed, and let's go, or I will kill myself right here before your eyes."

The mother was frightened by these words. They dressed and set off for the mountains, taking what they could carry and leaving the rest behind.

In the mountains, they found a cave and settled there. No one knew how or where they had disappeared. They gathered herbs and roots, dried them in the sun, and lived off them.

Time passed.

One morning, the daughter went out to gather roots. While she was away, the mother gave birth to a son who was half-gold and half-silver. The mother took the child and placed him under a large rock.

When the daughter returned, she immediately noticed that something had happened and asked:

"Why are you so pale? Tell me, or I will kill myself right now."

"Why would I be pale?" the mother replied. "I gave birth to a bad child and placed him under a rock."

The daughter rushed over, lifted the rock, and retrieved the child. She saw that he was half-gold and half-silver.

The girl was overjoyed—the sky seemed like a hat, and the earth like a small bowl to her.

She said:

"Fate is smiling upon us; it has given us a protector."

The child grew, and what a child he was! Each day he was better than the last. His face was so radiant it hurt to look at him, like the sun. In three days, he grew as much as a child would in three years—he began to walk. In ten to twelve days, he was already hunting: he would take a stick, throw it, and no bird could escape—he struck them all in midair.

Soon, he said to his sister:

"Make me something so I can shoot."

The sister cut a branch, bent it into a bow, twisted a bowstring from her own hair, tied it to the bow, and gave it to her brother. The child began to go hunting. He would leave in the morning and return in the evening, laden with game and animals, feeding both his sister and mother.

Each day, the boy ventured farther and farther from the cave. He began to return later in the evening.

One day, he set out very early at dawn to cover even more ground. As he walked, he climbed a mountain, looked around, and saw some buildings and a tower (his father's tower) reaching up to the sky.

He was amazed. He had never seen anything like it. He wondered what it could be.

He hesitated to descend the mountain and approach closer—the sun was already setting, and he would be late returning home, causing his sister to cry.

"Ah," thought the boy, "come what may, I cannot leave without seeing and knowing what is there."

In an instant, he ran down the mountain and approached one house—no one was there. He went to another—also empty. In the third, an old woman sat by the hearth. She turned and saw a beautiful youth standing in the doorway. She said to him:

"My son, it seems you are the child of a human. Have pity on yourself. The devs rule here; they have already destroyed all the people. No one is left alive in the entire kingdom except me, and tomorrow they will eat me too. This is the palace of Muzarbiy, who perished without leaving heirs except for his wife and daughter, but they disappeared without a trace."

Then the boy understood who he was and whose son he was, and he was filled with indescribable joy.

He asked the old woman when the devs would come, then leaped up and ran back to the mountains to his sister and mother. Along the way, he hunted a little, returned home with his catch, and at dinner, he asked his mother:

"Mother, tell me, where did we come from?"

"We came from nowhere," the mother replied.

The sister wanted to tell her brother everything, but she remained silent, afraid of their mother. The son didn't press further.

The next morning at dawn, he jumped up and raced back to the same place. The old woman saw him, leaped up, embraced him, kissed him, and told him everything she knew or had heard about King Muzarbiy. The boy learned that his father's bow and arrows still hung in the tower. He ran there, took them, and brought them back.

He said to the old woman:

"When the dev comes, don't move from your spot—stay where you are." Then he hid behind the door.

The dev appeared. It came, destroying everything in its path. It entered and was about to pounce on the old woman and devour her when the boy shot an arrow and severed the dev's head.

The old woman rushed to help, and together they buried the dev in the ground. The old woman rejoiced that her savior had come.

The boy hid his father's bow, took his own, and headed home. Along the way, he hunted and brought back game.

The next day, the boy went to lie in wait for the second dev. He hid behind the door.

The old woman said:

"The second dev is coming."

The boy lay in wait and heard:

"Hey, old woman, come out and tell me where my brother has gone!"

The old woman pretended not to hear and sat motionless.

The enraged dev lunged, wanting to tear the old woman apart. The boy shot an arrow and severed the dev's head.
They buried this one too.

On the third day of the third deva, they killed him. Only the eldest remained, Flint-deva with twelve heads. They said he was impossible to kill.

On the fourth day, a boy came to lie in wait for the deva. "Today my fate will be decided," he thought.

The earth shook, the house trembled. Everything around roared and moved.

The boy asked:
— What is this?
— It's the eldest deva coming, said the old woman.

And indeed, the deva was coming, roaring, destroying everything around him.
— Hey, old woman, get out, tell me where my brothers are, your end has come!

The old woman acted as if she hadn't heard. The deva lunged, opened his mouth, wanting to swallow the old woman, but the boy shot an arrow and tore off all twelve of the deva's heads. He looked—the deva's heads grew back again.

The boy shot a second arrow, again tearing off all twelve heads, but they grew back once more. What to do now, how to kill the deva? Suddenly, a little bird flew in, perched on the door, and sang: "Hot ashes."

The old woman understood, jumped up, grabbed a pan, scooped up hot ashes, and as soon as the boy tore off the deva's heads, she immediately poured the ashes into the deva's wounds. The heads stopped growing. They chopped the deva into pieces and buried him.

The old woman told the boy: there was nothing left in the world to fear. Overjoyed, the old woman forgot all she had endured, kissed the boy, and caressed him.

In the evening, the tired boy returned home. As soon as he arrived, he went straight to bed.

His sister asked:
— What's wrong with you? What has worn you out so?

The boy said nothing. The next morning, he decided to test his mother again:
— Tell me, whose son am I?

His mother didn't answer, hiding the truth. Then the boy told her where he had gone and what he had done. His sister was overjoyed and couldn't hold back, shouting:
— You are the son of Muzarbiy, whose bow and arrows destroyed the devas!

His mother began to make excuses, saying she had feared the devas would kill her son, which is why she had kept it hidden.

The boy led his sister and mother to his father's palace. And as the sun set, he climbed the tower and shouted with such a voice that all the stars flickered. The whole people heard this cry and wondered: what is this, has Muzarbiy risen from the grave?—but no, who could replace him?

The next day, word was sent to all who had hidden in the mountains or forests. The whole people gathered. They went to the palace. When they arrived, they learned that Muzarbiy's son had appeared and destroyed all the devas, and they rejoiced. They crowned him king and returned home happy.

Only the mother did not rejoice at the death of Flint-deva. She found out where he was buried and watered his grave every morning.

On the third day, a voice came from under the ground:
— Who pitied me and watered me? Can you scrape a handful of earth from the grave?

The woman scraped, the earth parted, and the deva emerged from the grave. She turned the deva into a fly and hid him in a little box.

Then she brought her son shoes no bigger than a finger and said:
— You're not like Muzarbiy! He wore shoes like these.

The boy was offended—how could he not be like his father? He took the shoes, tried to put them on, but his right foot twisted and broke. His mother rushed over, opened the box, released the fly, and the fly turned back into the deva, who lunged at the boy.

The boy grabbed him, standing on one leg, and threw him—burying him up to his knees in the ground. The mother saw that he was about to defeat the deva, so she ran over and scattered grain under his feet. The boy slipped, the deva grabbed him, threw him to the ground, pinned him with his knee, and tore him to pieces.

The deva stood up, and he and the mother went up to the tower.

The sister came, saw her brother torn to pieces, and with lightning speed gathered all the pieces, put them in a sack, tied it up, and carried it to the mountains.

She brought it to the cave where they had hidden before, laid out all the pieces, sat beside them, and cried over her brother for three days and three nights, drenching him with her tears. On the third day, the boy stirred and woke as if from sleep.

The boy said to his sister:
— Now I will go home, and soon you must return too.

The sister obeyed. The boy sneaked into the courtyard and said to the old woman:
— Run and shout: "Muzarbiy is coming, Muzarbiy is coming!"

The old woman ran, shouting:
— Muzarbiy is coming!

The deva and his mother heard, rushed out of the palace. The boy ran into the tower, grabbed his father's bow and arrows, shot an arrow at Flint-deva, and tore off all twelve of his heads. The old woman ran over and poured embers over the deva.

The boy grabbed a saber, chopped the deva into pieces; they lit a fire, burned all the pieces, and turned them to ash.

The sister returned, overjoyed to see her victorious brother.

But the mother climbed to the top of the tower and fell there, neither alive nor dead.

The sister and the old woman said to the boy: "We didn't tell you before, we were afraid for you, but now we will say. Your father had a horse, tied up in such-and-such cave. If you can ride that horse, nothing will ever frighten you again."

Muzarbiy's heir led out the horse, soared onto it like a bird. The horse reared, wanting to strike the sky, but the boy ducked under its belly; the horse wanted to crush him against the ground, but the boy leaned to one side; it wanted to smash him against a cliff—he leaned to the other side.

The horse submitted.

The boy entered the tower, dragged out his treacherous mother by the hair, tied her to the horse's tail, and drove the horse, tearing her to pieces.

My tale is finished.

I was there yesterday, came here today, and tomorrow I will go further to tell people different tales and bring joy to children.

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Tsar Muzarbiy

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