The Children of Zegandaria - Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (world best books to read txt) 📗

- "Where was the good old time?," he growled. "It's getting boring. You're about to burst. But we still have time to go to the other world too, don't we?," he wondered rhetorically, gritting his teeth.

Luckily there was no one around to hear and understand his confused reasoning. But it was a fact that Zorin had been passing between the drops all his life. Well, even luck wasn't a forever thing, but something told him that this wouldn't be his last hunt. He had many summers ahead of him. His killer instinct was awakening. He was ready again.

He tried to walk carefully, as the mesantioran forests were thicker than even a jungle and one could easily twist their ankles, or worse. There were liana-like plants called xarax that could wrap themselves around your neck and choke you to death - if only you let them get close. Somewhere far ahead, Zorin's keen sense of smell picked up that something was wrong.

Incidentally, Zorin had left his Nirangaiter somewhere far back and had hidden it well, but he might as well not have gone back as it was unclear what awaited him in the sectarian village.

- "This archivist has taken himself rather seriously," Zorin groaned, "and I have a feeling he had a hand in my mother's death."

The forest was thinning, and far ahead he made out the vague outline of something. Something he didn't like at all. It looked like the village, but there was something unusual about it. Zorin didn't have infrared binoculars to get a better look at it. He decided to get closer. At least a little. And overheard the following conversation.

- "Who would have expected another Mag Tu coronation ceremony to go so bloody," one of the sectarians complained. "Look, even the vicinity of the ziggurat is splattered with blood!"

- "And how did Kazuk Mon's coronation go more than fifteen years ago?," another contradicted him. "The same amount of violence and senseless cruelty!"

- "Be careful that no one hears that they might put us directly into the ziggurat," the first one sniffed at him. "Ah, that would be downright disgusting!"

Zorin didn't have time to listen to their idle ramblings all day. He grasped, however broadly, that something too massive was afoot, and might soon threaten the entire peace of the planet. And it wasn't just war, but perhaps even Armageddon.

- "How could I have been blind. That's why they offered me that general's post!," he muttered.

Suddenly, however, there was a stir in the sectarian camp that could only have been caused by a very important event. Evidently they were expecting something extraordinary.

Zorin was beginning to sweat profusely. He was going mad. This could have cost him his life. And he knew it. He wasn't fighting crazed guarrons or mutants here, he was fighting devil knows what!

He got just a little closer and the settlement in question was revealed before his eyes. It seemed to be quite extensive and quite a few new parts had been added just recently - apparently the sectarians were thriving. The sky seemed to become angry and thick clouds appeared on the horizon. Clearly something was about to happen.

The sectarians seemed to be pretty hyped up. Suddenly they gathered together as if on command, trying to summon their fictional god, to whom their in

Zorin didn't have time to listen to their idle ramblings all day. He grasped, albeit in a general way, that something too large was afoot, and could soon threaten the entire peace of the planet. And it wasn't just war, but perhaps even Armageddon.

- "How could I have been blind. That's why they offered me that general's post!," he muttered.

Suddenly, however, there was a stir in the sectarian camp that could only have been caused by a very important event. Evidently they were expecting something extraordinary.

Zorin was beginning to sweat profusely. He was going mad. This could have cost him his life. And he knew it. He wasn't fighting crazed guarrons or mutants here, he was fighting devil knows what!

He got just a little closer and the settlement in question was revealed before his eyes. It seemed to be quite extensive and quite a few new parts had been added just recently - apparently the sectarians were thriving. The sky seemed to become angry and thick clouds appeared on the horizon. Clearly something was about to happen.

The sectarians seemed to be pretty hyped up. Suddenly they gathered as if on command, trying to summon their fictional god they imagined they served. They twisted their arms in strange gestures, clawing the air like fish on dry land, and inarticulate magic words came from their mouths. Their mouths whispered of things their hearts longed for - complete merging with the deity Arthusson. Finally, they fell with a clatter to the clay soils of Tarash Duk and pounded their heads with their fists. This was the ritual of atonement altogether.

The Archpriest was not to be seen about. Something important must have been holding him back and was about to happen. The fact that there were absolutely no children around also stood out.

- "Where could it be?," wondered Zorin. "Let me look around some more first before I go in through the back gate. This strange religious cult looks rather interesting."

Then someone suddenly punched him in the back of the head and his skull was drenched in blood.

- "Are you spying on us, you mangy dog?," someone roared in a powerful bass voice.

- You'll be sorry! And a lot!

They dragged him like a dog, and his head hit the stones. One of them nearly blinded him. He remembered no further.

- "Next stop, the temple of Arthusson," someone bellowed nearby.

- "I thought that ziggurat was the temple," Zorin recalled half-consciously, starting to come to his senses but trying not to give himself away.

They started moving, and he could feel a beastly pain in his wrists - it was downright unbearable. He was tied tightly - too tightly, even.

They kept walking, and Zorin hadn't the slightest idea where they were going. But he sensed something very bad.

- I am part of the force that always wishes evil and always does good.

- He heard a strange voice.[15]

This infidel would soon serve his punishment. We will at least mention him in our prayers out of coward's shame, but, frankly, he deserves nothing more. We just need to end it faster.

- "He will have the honor of becoming a witness for the Council. No mere mortal infidel has ever had such an honor before," he heard another voice say.

- "Enough talk, lead the way," the first voice ordered again.

They were in a sort of crypt, and behind them were strange creatures watching them. Too strange even.

Zorin was pretty good with languages, and he could make out names like "Abagor", "Abaddon", "Agares", probably written in a language that had to be Hebrew. He had majored in ancient history at the university and hence it was his passion for languages. "But how had such names ended up in a place like this?" he wondered. He remembered that the Hebrew abjad[16] had its peculiarities, and the hand that had too carelessly scribbled the symbols was hardly very aware of that - but it was still readable.

It was obvious that the crypt had a peculiar design and there were several tunnels branching off from it - apparently it was carved too deep into the rock, but hardly so deep that air could not reach the chamber in which they laid Zorin.

- "We must be at least fifteen, even twenty meters  below the surface," Zorin muttered.

The sectarians, however, did not hear him. There was no way to report that they'd caught him, because Mark and Sasia weren’t wearing transmitters. It was more than fucking shit!

- "You'll rot here, General," he snarled.

After a moment, the archivist approached. His crimson cloak touched the floor and he was more than dignified, but when the pale light of a half-broken irene lamp illuminated him, Zorin sensed that he was old and sick. There was something else, too. Zorin may have been rude and a little short-tempered, but he was by no means a fool. If he just wanted to show his power, the old man would have just killed him or tortured him to get information. And so far, neither. Maybe he was too valuable to do any work. But the old man was in no hurry to start with the preface. He was so concentrated, and there was some mystery emanating from his pale brow. But Zorin sought his eyes, and they were hidden behind thick, whitened, ruddy brows

- "You'll rot here, General," he snarled.

After a moment the archivist approached. His crimson cloak touched the floor and he was more than dignified, but when the pale light of a half-broken irene lamp illuminated him, Zorin sensed that he was old and sick. There was something else, too. Zorin may have been rude and a little short-tempered, but he was by no means a fool. If he just wanted to show his power, the old man would have just killed him or tortured him to get information. And so far, neither. Maybe he was too valuable to do any work. But the old man was in no hurry to start with the preface. He was so concentrated, and there was some mystery emanating from his pale brow. But Zorin searched his eyes, and they were hidden behind bushy, graying, ruddy brows.

- "Do you know why you are still alive?," the wizard's weakened voice boomed.

- "You can lift the veil from my eyes, holy father," Zorin tried to show respect.

- It was not your general's patch that saved you, nor your religious motives, but a small amulet-talisman you wear around your neck. Where did you get it?

Those words were like a hammer that landed on the general's head. Torturing him, killing him, or even interrogating him was normal, but what had this pendant done to attract their attention. Zorin didn't even remember how long he had it, but he had received it from his late mother.

Kazuk Mon didn't miss his obvious confusion at asking that question, though Zorin did his best to cover himself.

- You'll soon learn what your role is in this whole thing. For now, just rest. I'll come again tonight. And the members of my flock won't even touch you.

Zorin spent the rest of the late afternoon lying on his back, bandaged like a salami. No one even came to see how he was. He was as thirsty as a barking dog.

He couldn't even wriggle sideways. And while he wondered which swear word was best suited for the filthy sectarians who had chosen this way to harass him, someone pushed him by the shoulder. The hand was gentle, and it was definitely female. It startled him. He hadn't seen too many young women among the sectarians.

- "I'm Kibera," the woman whispered softly. "I'll bring you food if you want."

Zorin realized what a pathetic curser he was at the moment, but he was still suspicious. What if there was some poison in the food!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: KIBERA

The woman smiled coaxingly.

- "Don't be a fool," she hissed, but he detected an undisguised threat, "they'll cut your balls off and turn