The Children of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (top novels to read .TXT) 📕

Zorin had decided to go scouting since the students were now on vacation and he had plenty of free time. He wanted to make sure with his own eyes that the "cybernetic dream" in question wasn't being caused somewhere out there that could easily rip you away from reality and slowly kill you. But then again, maybe the military's confidence was changing too many things. He felt that society was slowly dying and there was definitely no hope.

After taking one last goodbye to Grandpa Jack and the Rat, he decided to take a circuitous route to his final destination, lest he be spotted by the Serkipoids who had been lured from who knows what distant planet. Those nasty things had spread like a plague in a failed attempt to develop more advanced space farming. Some might have said that once they brought down the dictatorial regime of Gordon Elmbaum something would have changed, but that would have been a big mistake. Yes, technically people were free and even happy, but many new movements emerged that could easily brainwash them. Well, it wasn't total slobody, as they say, but things weren’t as they should be either.

Suddenly Zorin slapped himself on the forehead - what if it was just the nanoscreaming that was protecting the mind from outside interferеnce. But how could he be sure they hadn't messed with his mother's brain, too. Yes Ser Mac Zon was a doctor in the elderly ward, and he'd heard similar rumors of interferеnce with children's minds by Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, but the investigation had never been stopped and the whole thing had sunk into oblivion.

Zorin was in a heavily armored nirangaiter, as those transports were still in vogue. He knew that he would be entering the Autonomous Zone of Synthros relatively soon, and it brought back memories of the strange voice he had heard around these parts.

"These places have become even more sinister," he thought. "I'm walking down some unbeaten paths."

The sad feeling had come over him after burying his parent. Now he was all alone. He only maintained some sort of relationship with Sasia, but she was a mother and had taken a completely different path. And Zorin hadn't even gotten married.

The nirangaiter was just flying ahead because Zorin was pushing him hard.

CHAPTER TWO: TARASH DUK

Tarash Duk was the epochal discovery of the New Age. A fountain of energy for every lost soul longing for purification from their past transgressions. Some even called it "The Black Road." Not everyone of course could be invited and called to such a high honor. But the chosen few knew that a higher calling lay ahead. They had a chance to become personal novices of the Archist and be responsible for the initiation of other fools in the future. What happened to them later was unknown.

A few of them, however, became targets of abuse during their novitiate.

Access to Purgatory was strictly limited, and Archpriest Kazuk Mon was first and foremost a champion of a brand new future. When things got too personal, he simply resorted to the well-known methods of the past to settle scores - the most common HHermonad’s poison from the distant planet Ufur Gan was more than enough to eliminate those who knew too much and talked out of place.

Tarash Duk stretched into a rather backwater area, and the generally embossed tents that framed the settlement were rather colourful. Not that they were much of anything, but no one suspected what actually went on in the purgatory. It was a sort of seven-story ziggurat with distinctly religious functions. A real "holy" abode.

Kazuk Mon wore his ceremonial and rather ornate robe, made of epoxyarnx, which was much sturdier than the kevlar and quizon used in the past. It was able to protect its owner from plasma splinters and even asteron incisors.

The Archivist had so many enemies, it was almost sickening. Many would give anything just to skin him alive, as he was the one who took away (or so they thought!) their power over so many souls. So far, however, the Tarashdukian sect was of very modest proportions. But according to some it numbered at least ten thousand active members. Others were raising the number to a staggering one hundred thousand!

Considering that Zegandaria's population of several million was down to only about four hundred thousand - and that was counting those who had migrated from Cebur Nag, as well as some who had come from Ossonia in search of a livelihood, it was highly unlikely.

Kazuk Mon loved women. He loved to take advantage of their bodies and had even possessed many of them in his purgatory. But to his lecherous mind, that was a trifle. He loved to hear their moans and revel in his filthy power, which he believed rightfully belonged to him from the powers that had raised him. The Archpriest relied on something else that lurked deep beneath the ziggurat. For, not least of all, the saviour heroes laid to rest in Er So Man Cemetery Park were to be quickly forgotten and even vilified to a degree that would allow him to win the souls of the populace. They had played their part long ago anyway. They weren’t needed by anyone. Or maybe not!

The Emborian Zontul he was preparing to be a novice was a young man living in his fictional world where only one person was allowed to peek in. And that was the archivist. This boy had great deeds to do. Such was his destiny. And he was trying to do anything to jeopardize his development and his transformation into the consummate Mag Tu[2] - the only full-fledged leader of the Tarashdukians. The boy, for his part, was too promising. He had learned to read the star charts and to know the Great Philosophers early on. All this took him only four years. In the next four, he was introduced to the basic applications of Quantum Physics and crystal divination. The last four years were devoted in learning the Universal Language that had replaced the old forms of communication. But Kazuk Mon was still not satisfied and extended his studies for another four years, during which time he specialized in neuropsycholinguistics, a science that few were proficient in, as much of the old knowledge had been lost, in the previous destruction of the planet.

His apprentice used it all too successfully. Even excessively so. With which he had astounded his teacher more than once. Surely the seed, dropped into fertile soil, could yield a good harvest!

However, deep in his soul, Kazuk Mon didn't want to share his power with anyone . He was both achingly in love with his protégé, and at the same time, so enthralled with the idea of giving him the chance to succeed. He had to do it and become Mag Tu!

After the ceremony, he came back and made it clear that his novice would not be allowed to take advantage of his women until he became a full-fledged Mag Tu, or else he was bad! The elder's other prohibition was stealing secret knowledge and sharing it with outsiders. This was simply unacceptable. If only he found out that the little one had squealed, he would cut off his testicles and deprive him of his manhood!

But to his relief, he was greeted by the serEne face of the novice.

- "I sort of crawled into my tasks. I performed everything quite, quite accurately," he stammered slightly.

- "That's good," the elder voiced his concerns. "Very good," he continued, but his gaze remained as stern and impenetrable as ever."

The messenger remained silent, because he simply did not know what to say.

The whole hall they were in was weighed down by the heavy furnishings and they both felt in their own waters.

Kazuk Mon's brutal nature had him possessing some of the lay women right on the floor. He had no inhibitions!

The novice knew that some things were going wrong, but he was also aware of how much he had risen thanks to his master. That was why he was turning a blind eye!

The more he looked at him, Kazuk Mon was convinced that he hadn't made a mistake. By tonight, he would be leading the ceremony. This young and full-blooded stallion!

He would not be fooled, but would put his hand over the entire congregation. It would happen naturally with his approval as he would pass in the shadows. How convenient it would be for him to do all his business undisturbed.

- "Negotiate the magic formula," he instructed him.

- "Everato Mondus Ellisaris Kez For Tu Dons," he muttered as if the novice were slaughtering him.

- "Yeah, give it a little more tact," ordered his mentor, "bring in some mystery. People are thirsty for just that. They give a soul for some kind of miracle. And we will give it to them."

- "Reuso Vion Do," he murmured in such a mournful crescent that even Cazuk Mon hesitated to take his hat off - there just wasn't one at the moment.

- "That's better, but don't overplay it. And never forget that nonsense about collective consciousness I taught you. Never!," he grunted sternly.

- "Yes, your Archie Magical Majesty," his novice replied quietly.

Various other haplings came in, milling about the preparations for the ceremony. There was much to be finished. Everything had to be ready in the next five or six hours, and they were nowhere yet.

The ceremony was to declare the independence of the Tarash Duk sect from the central government in Sintros. It was simply a matter of prestige. Even the survival of their society. Deep down, he had to admit that he enjoyed being a part of something so big and important. Something so impressive.

The duty of a cleric who had to show others the right way was not to be mixed with worldly activities.

It was a living hell in the boy's soul. It could not fathom what it was like to bear such a huge responsibility for so many lives. And it had to. His teacher nudged him.

- "It's time, let's go," he told him.

The two of them walked across the hall to change out of their formal robes and into the formal ceremonial robes. They also made the sign of Erduk, a special pentagram with a crescent moon carved into it and a Seburnagian tyrfan holding a gorgeous emeryridium flower in its mouth. It was assembled from several pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, because it was too big.