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Грег Фаршти - ''ИСТОРИЯ САХМАДА'' ГЛАВА 5 | Текст песни

There are some days when you feel like every weapon in the world is loaded and aimed at you. There are some days when you know that even your best friend, if you had one, would be pointing you out to a Skopio as a possible meal.

I was having one of those kind of days. Let me explain.

I was sitting in an illusory healing tent facing a bunch of Agori who weren't really there, yet were all talking in the same voice. And they weren't sending warm greetings, they were talking about...well, let's just say they were good at making threats and leave it at that. Was I afraid? Sure. But just like you could take a Thornax fruit and turn it into a weapon, you can take fear and turn it into anger. Fear is a rock you can hide under. Anger is a rock you can throw at someone else.

"Are you going to show yourself?" I asked my unseen host, "Or just keep talking through your made-up Agori?"

Laughter filled the room. It sounded like crystal being shattered and then being ground into dust.

"You think the beings seen before you are the products of my imagination?" my captor asked. "Then look again."

The Agori were shimmering, fading, and in their place stood Sisters of the Skrall, maybe a dozen. I began to regret my question. I knew what the Sisters could do to your brain. But there's a saying, "You don't get across the Skrall River by just dipping in your toe."

"So the Sisters work for you? Are they responsible for what happened to the Iron Agori of the dreaming plague?"

There was that laughter again. I was starting to hate that sound. "The Sisters are silly little fools," came the answer. "They actually believe a Great Being vested power upon them. It was I that gifted them with the psionic powers they wield. I thought it would be amusing to see them destroy the males of their species. But, like you, they were too weak, and allowed themselves to be driven out. They didn't have the will to conquer, and now they have no will at all.

"And was that what the plague was, just another one of your experiments!?" I demanded.

The mouths of every Sister opened, and the same answer came from them all. "Experiment? Oh, no. That was lunch."

The Sisters of the Skrall dropped to the ground then, as if their legs could suddenly no longer support them. A pinpoint of light appeared near the far wall and rapidly grew larger and larger. My host was making his appearance. I was about to confront the being who wiped out my tribe.

Imagine staring directly into the sun, and the reddish streaks burned into your eyes, taking the shape of things too hideous to describe. Even when you close your eyes, look away, it makes no difference. You know you've seen something you can never erase from your memory. Would you be fortunate to stay sane, or would that be the worst possible luck?

"I hungered," said a voice from the center of the sphere of light. "And when I hunger, I feed. The dreams of your people were a very satisfying meal. Enough so that I did not need nourishment again for many years. Of course, once I was done, your people had no dreams left. But they, like the dreams themselves, were hardly to be missed."

I needed a weapon. I needed something to blow out this malevolent sun that was still expanding. It filled the room with light, but no heat. Just a bone-chilling cold that made the desert night seem tropical. But I had no weapon. Anger, defiance, stubbornness, willingness to die to avenge my people, those I had in abundance. They would have to do.

"Nice light show," I said. "Pretty fancy for something the Great Beings made and threw away. That is what you are, isn't it, another one of their projects gone wrong?"

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