You didn’t make it ! Instead, you became sort of city clowns so that even the smallest of these creatures gradually started laughing at you and mocking you! Were you really so blind that you didn’t see it, having sunk in your thirst of wealth ? Have you all, my called ones, become so blind ?!
And now … now ! – it seemed that my consciousness won’t sustain the anger which has been poured into these words and will forever leave my now useless body, - my false prophets cannot afflict them ! They are unable to confuse their minds, they can’t distort His word ! These beings are simply mocking you !
F-f-o-o-o-o-l-l-l-l !
But now you are mine – forever mine … until His warriors won’t invade my kingdom … All of you are forever mine! M-m-m-i-i-i-n-n-n-e-e-e !
Pain, never-ending, unstoppable stream of pain have fallen down on me like a stone bulk, killing the last remains of hope and taking the life away.
The last thing I remember, before the remnants of my consciousness were burned out by this fire of tortures, was the long, terrible, almost never-ending falling in the Lowest Layers of this very … Astral world.
Memory of the millenniums
Small nomadic tribe. Hunting and living, living and hunting on each new terrestrial haven. But they were short – for vastness of steppes awaited them, they were short – for battles were inevitable.
Battles of equestrian orders. A lethal enemy’s weapon - long bent sticks, firing killing needles. His companions died every day … he learnt to get used to it, he had to. In peaceful times the tribe expanded and spread again – ready for new battles, new life and new victories.
This was his life. In this world and in this time.
Turning to the opponent. Double swing of a sword in the right hand. A strike - and flatwise blow on the armor sideways. Moving sword back. The sword describes an arch over a head of the opponent and again strikes in another side. Now the blade starts moving to the ground … both hands take it – and another blow on the plates, closing a shoulder on the right hand.
On the left. Right. Left. Right.
An arch again. Again the sword is turned in hands and flies into attack … another blow. Continuing to shower rival with strikes, he moved sideways. Some more steps and he has appeared behind the back. A blade, brought by two hands over a head … this should be the last blow, opponent will be defeated.
The steel racing into attack … the opponent is turning to face him… Clanging of clashed steel. His strike has been beaten off. The one he battled was not the weakling at all. A series of successful blows – is everything he has managed to make in this duel. There will be no easy victory – but a long and daring fight instead, a battle which he has thirsted with all his heart for a long time – a battle of worthy ones. It will be the battle of worthy – and let the strongest prevail !
One step back. The foot set back aside for stability. Clanging of steel tools which have met in their dance – now it’s his turn. A sharp withdrawal of a blade downwards – opponent’s sword slides off the block. Now a blade’s turn in a bottom. The blade has flushed, describing a circle in the air, - a blow. Opponent’s plate armor has absorbed the major portion of blow again – he resisted.
Now a tap of a sword for repeated blow … he had no time left. His flatwise blow on an armor has not shaken the contender, and that has given him time. Now he has to resist rival’s blow … his sword was describing an arch for another blow … but it was too late to use it as a block.
A hit. Stars in his eyes. The blow of the opponent has been made directly between the plates, covering a shoulder, and a helmet. A dangerous one, also demanding high skill, to lift a blade highly - and fair time for a swing.
Blow. Block. Blow. Block. Clanging steel, which has met in its favorite dance. Two flitting blades.
Two man, breathing heavily under heavy armor, enclosing their bodies. Two warriors, who have met each other in battle. Two knights, fighting for a title of the champion of tournament - fighting for sighs of beautiful ladies and admiration of commoners. Battling, battling as if all their life goals and all hopes have been put into this battle …
And let the strongest prevail !
The centurion’s order is clear. His phalanx along with others will pass in a wedge through the enemy - pass, sweeping steel-clad infantry and crushing the marksmen, positioned on a hill. It will be glorious fight - yes, glorious fight. They will prevail, they will win a victory in this battle for the emperor. Legionaries of Rome know no defeats.
Quickly given orders. Movement in the ranks of contradictory armies. Minute, another, third one. Phalanxes preparing for battle. It will be a great battle…
Two iron walls, bristling with swords and spears, which have moved towards each other. The fighting shouts, carried by a wind across the field of battle. The loud orders of commanders travelling by air. Fight began to boil …
His formation bit into enemy ranks. The exposed forward spear … a sword’s swing - and rival’s shaft flies aside. Forward strike – and enemy falls on the ground.
A blow on his armor from behind. He has reeled, but has resisted – armor has absorbed a blow. The turn towards new danger … a blade, sparkling in morning beams of the sun – and another opponent falls down.
A block. Someone from behind tries to strike at him again. A movement of blade downwards - and swift attack back without turning …
And yet again the blade flits in hands. Again, as countless times before, once the simple legionary, and now the leader of a phalanx – is in a fight, in glorious battle of great Roman empire. The shouts of battle and clanging of metal once again. Enemies, falling from blows of the blade. His comrades in arms, dying on the battlefield …
A battle once again. Battle of his empire – and his battle also. Glorious fight of grand empire …
The scientist and the researcher, the physicist and the chemist, the writer and the philosopher, a wise man. He was all of them - all of them were living in him. He devoted himself to work - for the queen, for commoners, for all citizens of his own country, for the ones in other. It was his life - his life of studying the world …
They were hunted and pursued. They were searched for and eliminated. They were hated - hated by those, who had not the slightest idea before of the right to execute and grant pardon, which they would soon gain. But they have gained this right – received it for murder and persecution of others, have chosen it as necessary step – the one, leading nowhere. But did they really know about it?
Prisons and colonies. Penal servitudes and executions without trial. The ruined families. The deformed destinies. The destroyed culture. It was horrible time …
He was the creator - one of those, loving his work - the artist and the writer of a new century. The century
