“The hour will come, after the storming of the village of Dada-Yurt, when two guys from the future will be brought to you. They are those linemen...” General Ermolov concluded meaningfully. Zaur Kochesokov and Vasily Barloga looked at each other in bewilderment. Could two of our contemporaries, students of the history department of a prestigious Moscow university, have known that fate would send them into the thick of the Caucasian wars of the nineteenth century? And now they are obliged to reveal the secret of the Line, where Russians and Caucasians disappear without a trace, where Black Abreks walk on three-legged horses, where flying genies incinerate a person with one glance, and falcons made of steel are capable of piercing Chechen chain mail with their beaks... If it weren’t for the old Plastun grandfather Eroshka and his granddaughter, who shoots with both hands, our students would have disappeared on the very first day. And then... “We’ve already kneaded such a thing that come, godfather, to admire!”