Название | The Last Days of Pangea |
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Автор произведения | OGO |
Жанр | |
Серия | |
Издательство | |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9785006067257 |
The torture of hopelessness completely permeated my body. Resisting to the last, I accepted his invasion. My spheres mingled with the petals of the Star Flower, currents and compounds boiled in the flames of fused essences! His energy penetrated to the very foundation. I felt the Cosmos and blazing pain at the same time!
And in one moment our camps touched. The shiver of collision and cosmic vibrations splashed out beyond our habitation. The waves of concussions spread over the abode of the Fiery Star and stirred up even the soulless planets… I accepted a part of his essence and, concentrating all the life streams, made an attempt to repel the disturber. The satellite succumbed to power and left my flesh, leaving a share of the inside in my depths.
Everything is mixed up! Many elements intersected in the spheres, blinding flashes, thundering in a mixed avalanche of two entities, shook my consciousness. I paused for a moment to take in what had happened. The soulless body of my companion headed for the expanses of the Fire Star. It gained momentum, moving away faster and faster, but my pain did not allow me to let it go into the abyss of countless luminaries, and I, not wanting to look at how it would become a comet, overtook the lifeless remnant with my attraction.
The extinguished satellite stopped opposite and silently froze… He never spoke to me again. His camp – colorless, dumb and cold – remained forever near, revolving in the bonds of my gravity. Only the Sun’s light was reflected in the mirror body of the now soulless planet and reminded of its once vital stay, constantly warming and pouring rays on my dark side of existence…
* dbaya – taking in.
***
The mirage of memories was filled with green beams of light. Glows emanated directly from the canvases of the walls of the building – from the inscribed drawings and carved symbols. The play of lights completely clouded the Tent of Unity, and in the center of it, through a thick haze, a mysterious stone was visible, wrapped in equally mysterious luminous shoots of plants unseen in Her abode. Suddenly, somewhere very close, muffled children’s laughter and echoes of the conversation were heard:
– Who? Who remains…
«Ar… Wa… and Iri…» came another unintelligible echo.
– I’m here! – I heard a girl’s voice. – I sing…
The child’s speech was interrupted by the displeased order of one of the adults:
«What are you doing here?! Well, run from here! This is no place for Seekers!
BONFIRE – the first night
A warm wind touched the foot of the Great Volcano*. With a light impulse, he stirred the tops of the araucaria and froze. The elements were replaced by cool air. Drawing it in deeply with his nostrils and enjoying the freshness of coniferous incense, Roshan fixed his eyes on the infinity of the night sky. The full moon rose over the valley. She illuminated the silhouette of Roshan – a hunter, shaman, husband and first leader of the first people. He stood on a viewing platform, dressed in everyday garb made from the skins of herbivorous reptiles. The tall, full of strength and self-confident leader thoughtfully rubbed the bone beads. The incisors of small predators were woven into his black strands, collected in a braid. The scythe hung gracefully just below the man’s waist and displayed his position in the tribe. Why, everyone knew Roshan! Only a child less than a hundred moons old could confuse Roshan with an ordinary hunter. The dark thick beard of the leader was also braided. It stretched to the very stomach, and its ending, pulled together by the claw of the Vulture, forked into thin pigtails. Despite the thousands of moons lived, the shaman’s blue eyes still glowed with determination. But his tanned and middle-aged face had long ago worn furrows that hid the scars that were once obtained on the hunt, already forgotten under what circumstances. Only a deep scar from Ostrothorn’s thorn on the scaly cheekbone on the right was reminiscent of the restless camp near the liana forests.
Scratching his hooked nose, the leader focused his gaze on the stars: an infinite number of heavenly stones illuminated the vault as never before; they shimmered with colorful lights, and it seemed that all the colors of the rainbow shone in the crystal clear sky. Roshan saw such a phenomenon for the first time! He furrowed his jet-black brows and thought.
– Roshan! A woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts. «Varn and future hunters are waiting for you. You did not forget?
The shaman pricked up his ears. Behind, in the settlement, through the splashing of a nearby brook, the voices of his young tribesmen were barely audible.
Ana stepped closer and draped the cloak over the leader’s shoulders.
«Everyone is already here,» she added.
The chief adjusted his blue robe of Longneck’s hide.
«Thank you, Ana. Look at those stars!
The woman carefully squeezed under Roshan’s arm, pressed her back against him and looked at the sky. A stream of moonlight touched Ana’s pale, scarless face – the spirits of Zavrin protected the fair-haired huntress from encounters with the claws of reptiles, and the Great Fire did not darken her skin. She was not tall, just below the leader’s shoulders. Her curls protruded carelessly from the pile of hair collected on her head so that her hair, fastened with a bone hairpin, resembled the fruit of a palm tree. The small rough nose of the huntress modestly stood out between the large cheekbones, and dark thick eyebrows emphasized large gray eyes. The woman’s ears were adorned with Lazunov’s fangs, and on her slender neck Ana wore beads made from the teeth of herbivorous lizards – an exquisite gift from Roshan.
– They are beautiful! Very bright, don’t you think? the huntress asked defiantly. Do they bother you? Changing tone, she immediately asked.
«Yes, they are beautiful,» the shaman replied. – Worried? I don’t know yet… I’ll go around the watchtowers. Wait for me at the Fireplace. The leader carefully turned the huntress around and pressed her to him. Smelling the familiar scent, Roshan cautiously inhaled the scent of her hair. – Oh no! You smell like fried meat! he growled playfully. – How I want to eat!
Ana smiled and slid out of the leader’s arms, heading towards the Pavilion of Flame. The shaman looked after the huntress. Her green robe of Longneck’s skin gleamed in the moonlight. The torso was tightly tightened with flaps from the shoulders and almost to the waist. A bandage sat on her hips, decorated with the colored wings of swamp dragonflies. She skillfully covered the bosom. On her feet, Ana wore sandals made from the rough hide of Tailtail, and on her forearms were bracers made from the same reptile. The woman’s hands were smeared with soot in places, which, under the glow of the moon, was visible on pale skin. Judging by the stains, Ana helped the youths build the Fireplace.
As soon as the hunter disappeared among the huts, Roshan descended the wooden platform and moved towards the southeastern watchtower. Silently stepping along the fences, the leader attentively listened to the slightest rustle on the other side of the fence. Night cicadas, crackling beetles, crickets and other insects chirped and chirped uncontrollably in the area. But even amid this rumble, Roshan could make out the bustle of small lizards, which, in search of food in the dark, came too close to the village.
A whistle sounded from fifty paces before the guardhouse. Roshan stopped. Everything was OK. The sentinel confidently stood at his post and watched what was happening not only on the other side of the fence. Answering him with the same whistle, the leader turned around and wandered to the western outpost.
The path between the outposts passed through many huts. Structures made of tree branches and trunks, covered with reptile skin, decorated with the bones of herbivorous lizards and painted with symbols of the first people, were erected along the entire border from the western to eastern loophole – the entrances to the camp. All these huts belonged to the House of Hunters.