A terribly fast-paced and engaging post-apocalyptic novel. The announcement sounds like this: “The familiar world is no more, there are only fragments of the past: deserted cities lying in ruins, mutant animals and people - divided and broken. The scout of the Windblower clan Herman and the Hospitaller Franz will have to save the native clan from the fanatics of the New Faith, having gone through hundreds of dangers.

Alexey Pekhov and Andrey Egorov

Last Testament

CHAPTER FIRST

LET THE BEINGS WHO CALL THESELF HUMANS SAY:

In a world where only shadows live The best way existence - to become one of them. In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, the best way to exist is to obey those conditions.

In a world where the shadows are in illusions and believe in the onset of a bright future - to believe.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF PURE MIND:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to influence them.

In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, you must become their absolute masters, and let them become your slaves and slaves of your ideas.

In a world where shadows live in illusions and believe in the onset of a brighter future, your destiny is to show them the way to hell.

Last Testament. Book of the New World. A message to those born again. Art. fifty

The rat-cat stretched itself and, releasing its claws, yawned with a long yawn - it showed the whole world rare sharp teeth. Herman threw off the remnants of drowsiness, got up and, stepping over the beast that was sprawled on the concrete floor, went to the window. The rain did not want to stop, although after two hours it managed to turn from a heavy downpour into a sticky gray drizzle.

Herman threw on the hood of his jacket, designed to protect his head if some poisonous rubbish suddenly appeared in the water falling from the sky. Now the chance to get under the “hot rain” is not as great as in the old days, for example, immediately after the end of the Last War, but who wants to risk their own hair and health? Herman did not smile at all for the rest of his life to walk bald, like Old Kra, who foolishly fell thirty years ago under the “hot rain”.

The old drunk Kra looked extremely repulsive. However, Herman saw in his life such people (the tongue does not dare to call them people) who had live wormy porridge moving on their heads instead of hair, like a ball of tiny snakes, ready at any moment to sting anyone who approaches them. This is truly a disgusting sight.

Perhaps it’s worth sitting in the shelter for another half an hour, - Herman muttered and, turning to the rat cat, asked: - What are your thoughts on this, stupid brute?

Ratcat, as always, did not answer, only twitched his tail. These are all sorts of crazy people, like Meganics with their rabid religious fanaticism, who are used to thinking that any mutants (even if they are frog moles) must necessarily speak and spread heresy among the clans. In fact, the rat cat was a completely harmless creature - it never got into religious disputes, and in general preferred good food to any communication. Simply put, the rat cat was an ordinary animal, not without, however, some innate talents. Judging by the wet footprints on the floor, while Herman was dozing, Anger ran for a walk. Probably hunting howler monkeys again. I wonder how long he was gone?

Herman again went to the broken window and, clinging to the wall, looked out into the street. Opposite the house where he was hiding, there was a building with a collapsed dome - the Central Station of the City. Despite the middle of summer, it was autumn cold, and in the twilight descending on the City, the first foggy threads were already flashing. Fog is the eternal trouble of this part of the City. There is a river nearby, and more damp muddy rubbish falls out of the subway than chewed and bearworms combined. Herman didn't like the fog. The fog hides and deceives. It is never clear what else might be hiding in it, waiting for you, ready to fall on your back as soon as you pass by.

Ratcat suddenly jumped up and pricked up his ears. Somewhere behind the station there was a barely perceptible rumble of a monorail.

“The Meganics are up to something again,” Herman thought, “there has been no life left for them lately. No, it’s positively time to get out of here before trouble comes for me.”

Herman felt very uncomfortable, which, however, is not surprising - this time he climbed too far - from the territory of his native clan, and the Scavengers, who owned this area of ​​​​the City, did not like strangers too much. In fact, they didn't complain at all. And if a stranger has a full bag of seeds and root crops with him, which he stole from them from the garden, then in general a pipe. If they are caught, at best, they will kill them immediately. And most likely, they will take them with them to underground burrows and torture them there ...

The sound of the monorail faded into the misty distance. It was necessary to leave, but Herman could not make up his mind. It would be dark in an hour and a half, and his mind told him that it would be better to wait out the night here, on the top floor of a long abandoned building. But my inner instinct told me otherwise.

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to become one of them. In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, the best way to exist is to obey those conditions.

In a world where the shadows are in illusions and believe in the onset of a bright future - to believe.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF PURE MIND:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to influence them.

In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, you must become their absolute masters, and let them become your slaves and slaves of your ideas.

In a world where shadows live in illusions and believe in the onset of a brighter future, your destiny is to show them the way to hell.

Last Testament. Book of the New World. A message to those born again. Art. fifty

The rat-cat stretched itself and, releasing its claws, yawned with a long yawn - it showed the whole world rare sharp teeth. Herman threw off the remnants of drowsiness, got up and, stepping over the beast that was sprawled on the concrete floor, went to the window. The rain did not want to stop, although after two hours it managed to turn from a heavy downpour into a sticky gray drizzle.

Herman threw on the hood of his jacket, designed to protect his head if some poisonous rubbish suddenly appeared in the water falling from the sky. Now the chance to get under the “hot rain” is not as great as in the old days, for example, immediately after the end of the Last War, but who wants to risk their own hair and health? Herman did not smile at all for the rest of his life to walk bald, like Old Kra, who foolishly fell thirty years ago under the “hot rain”.

The old drunk Kra looked extremely repulsive. However, Herman saw in his life such people (the tongue does not dare to call them people) who had live wormy porridge moving on their heads instead of hair, like a ball of tiny snakes, ready at any moment to sting anyone who approaches them. This is truly a disgusting sight.

Perhaps it’s worth sitting in the shelter for another half an hour, - Herman muttered and, turning to the rat cat, asked: - What are your thoughts on this, stupid brute?

Ratcat, as always, did not answer, only twitched his tail. These are all sorts of crazy people, like Meganics with their rabid religious fanaticism, who are used to thinking that any mutants (even if they are frog moles) must necessarily speak and spread heresy among the clans. In fact, the rat cat was a completely harmless creature - it never got into religious disputes, and in general preferred good food to any communication. Simply put, the rat cat was an ordinary animal, not without, however, some innate talents. Judging by the wet footprints on the floor, while Herman was dozing, Anger ran for a walk. Probably hunting howler monkeys again. I wonder how long he was gone?

Herman again went to the broken window and, clinging to the wall, looked out into the street. Opposite the house where he was hiding, there was a building with a collapsed dome - the Central Station of the City. Despite the middle of summer, it was autumn cold, and in the twilight descending on the City, the first foggy threads were already flashing. Fog is the eternal trouble of this part of the City. There is a river nearby, and more damp muddy rubbish falls out of the subway than chewed and bearworms combined. Herman didn't like the fog. The fog hides and deceives. It is never clear what else might be hiding in it, waiting for you, ready to fall on your back as soon as you pass by.

Ratcat suddenly jumped up and pricked up his ears. Somewhere behind the station there was a barely perceptible rumble of a monorail.

“The Meganics are up to something again,” Herman thought, “there has been no life left for them lately. No, it’s positively time to get out of here before trouble comes for me.”

Herman felt very uncomfortable, which, however, is not surprising - this time he climbed too far - from the territory of his native clan, and the Scavengers, who owned this area of ​​​​the City, did not like strangers too much. In fact, they didn't complain at all. And if a stranger has a full bag of seeds and root crops with him, which he stole from them from the garden, then in general a pipe. If they are caught, at best, they will kill them immediately. And most likely, they will take them with them to underground burrows and torture them there ...

The sound of the monorail faded into the misty distance. It was necessary to leave, but Herman could not make up his mind. It would be dark in an hour and a half, and his mind told him that it would be better to wait out the night here, on the top floor of a long abandoned building. But my inner instinct told me otherwise.

Herman looked out the window again. Nothing has changed - the gray, gloomy building of the Central Station, the asphalt wet from the rain, the rusty skeleton of a car, no one knows how it turned out to be pressed against a curved lamppost. Everything is the same as before, only there is more fog, as if someone was urging it on. Something bothered Herman. Something was wrong here...

“We'll have to use the forbidden again,” Herman thought and cursed to himself.

He was not too fond of doing THIS, realizing to himself that it was wrong, and many in the Windblower clan did not tolerate anything forbidden. Not that they were at one with the Meganics, and yet they had the most negative attitude towards the forbidden. German has been accustomed to hiding his special abilities since childhood, but how long can he hide the talent inside himself? Someday they will certainly recognize and brand him as a Universal or even worse - a mutant ...

Herman sighed and, sitting down near the wall, began to scan frequency after frequency, spectrum after spectrum. His mind wandered somewhere far away, and his eyes were completely empty. If someone had looked at Herman at that moment, he would have decided, despite the barely noticeable twitching of his fingers, that the man left his body and went for a walk somewhere.

LET THE BEINGS WHO CALL THESELF HUMANS SAY:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to become one of them. In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, the best way to exist is to obey those conditions.

In a world where the shadows are in illusions and believe in the onset of a bright future - to believe.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF PURE MIND:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to influence them.

In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, you must become their absolute masters, and let them become your slaves and slaves of your ideas.

In a world where shadows live in illusions and believe in the onset of a brighter future, your destiny is to show them the way to hell.

Last Testament. Book of the New World. A message to those born again. Art. fifty

The rat-cat stretched itself and, releasing its claws, yawned with a long yawn - it showed the whole world rare sharp teeth. Herman threw off the remnants of drowsiness, got up and, stepping over the beast that was sprawled on the concrete floor, went to the window. The rain did not want to stop, although after two hours it managed to turn from a heavy downpour into a sticky gray drizzle.

Herman threw on the hood of his jacket, designed to protect his head if some poisonous rubbish suddenly appeared in the water falling from the sky. Now the chance to get under the “hot rain” is not as great as in the old days, for example, immediately after the end of the Last War, but who wants to risk their own hair and health? Herman did not smile at all for the rest of his life to walk bald, like Old Kra, who foolishly fell thirty years ago under the “hot rain”.

The old drunk Kra looked extremely repulsive. However, Herman saw in his life such people (the tongue does not dare to call them people) who had live wormy porridge moving on their heads instead of hair, like a ball of tiny snakes, ready at any moment to sting anyone who approaches them. This is truly a disgusting sight.

Perhaps it’s worth sitting in the shelter for another half an hour, - Herman muttered and, turning to the rat cat, asked: - What are your thoughts on this, stupid brute?

Ratcat, as always, did not answer, only twitched his tail. These are all sorts of crazy people, like Meganics with their rabid religious fanaticism, who are used to thinking that any mutants (even if they are frog moles) must necessarily speak and spread heresy among the clans. In fact, the rat cat was a completely harmless creature - it never got into religious disputes, and in general preferred good food to any communication. Simply put, the rat cat was an ordinary animal, not without, however, some innate talents. Judging by the wet footprints on the floor, while Herman was dozing, Anger ran for a walk. Probably hunting howler monkeys again. I wonder how long he was gone?

Herman again went to the broken window and, clinging to the wall, looked out into the street. Opposite the house where he was hiding, there was a building with a collapsed dome - the Central Station of the City. Despite the middle of summer, it was autumn cold, and in the twilight descending on the City, the first foggy threads were already flashing. Fog is the eternal trouble of this part of the City. There is a river nearby, and more damp muddy rubbish falls out of the subway than chewed and bearworms combined. Herman didn't like the fog. The fog hides and deceives. It is never clear what else might be hiding in it, waiting for you, ready to fall on your back as soon as you pass by.

Ratcat suddenly jumped up and pricked up his ears. Somewhere behind the station there was a barely perceptible rumble of a monorail.

“The Meganics are up to something again,” Herman thought, “there has been no life left for them lately. No, it’s positively time to get out of here before trouble comes for me.”

Herman felt very uncomfortable, which, however, is not surprising - this time he climbed too far - from the territory of his native clan, and the Scavengers, who owned this area of ​​​​the City, did not like strangers too much. In fact, they didn't complain at all. And if a stranger has a full bag of seeds and root crops with him, which he stole from them from the garden, then in general a pipe. If they are caught, at best, they will kill them immediately. And most likely, they will take them with them to underground burrows and torture them there ...

The sound of the monorail faded into the misty distance. It was necessary to leave, but Herman could not make up his mind. It would be dark in an hour and a half, and his mind told him that it would be better to wait out the night here, on the top floor of a long abandoned building. But my inner instinct told me otherwise.

Herman looked out the window again. Nothing has changed - the gray, gloomy building of the Central Station, the asphalt wet from the rain, the rusty skeleton of a car, no one knows how it turned out to be pressed against a curved lamppost. Everything is the same as before, only there is more fog, as if someone was urging it on. Something bothered Herman. Something was wrong here...

“We'll have to use the forbidden again,” Herman thought and cursed to himself.

He was not too fond of doing THIS, realizing to himself that it was wrong, and many in the Windblower clan did not tolerate anything forbidden. Not that they were at one with the Meganics, and yet they had the most negative attitude towards the forbidden. German has been accustomed to hiding his special abilities since childhood, but how long can he hide the talent inside himself? Someday they will certainly recognize and brand him as a Universal or even worse - a mutant ...

Herman sighed and, sitting down near the wall, began to scan frequency after frequency, spectrum after spectrum. His mind wandered somewhere far away, and his eyes were completely empty. If someone had looked at Herman at that moment, he would have decided, despite the barely noticeable twitching of his fingers, that the man left his body and went for a walk somewhere.

And there is! Premonitions did not deceive the hunter. Someone was hiding in the Central Station - he detected a barely perceptible rustle of a heart rhythm on one of the frequencies. At least, Herman really hoped that this was a man, and not some kind of mutant. Human?! But what is he doing there? Hiding from the rain? Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe it's one of the Meganics from the monorail? Unlikely. These never go alone. Then who? Maybe the stranger is stalking him?

Decided! He will leave immediately. Herman threw the bag on his back, picked up a crossbow, stomped on the floor, calling for a rat cat - along with words, the beast also obeyed a special set of commands, consisting of gestures, touches and, to a much lesser extent, words. Bending down, Herman ran to the stairs. Went down to the first floor. Then to the basement. A stranger is watching the exit, and through the basement window, facing the opposite side from the Central Station, you can get out unnoticed. Herman threw a heavy bag out of the window, pulled himself up and climbed out onto the wet asphalt. Ratcat jumped, instantly being near. He was always there at the right moment. A faithful companion, wordless and devoted, ready to cling to the throat of any enemy that threatened the owner's life. Herman touched Wrath behind the ear, and he barely audibly squeaked, rejoicing at the owner's casual caress.

Sf_action Alexey Pekhov Andrey Egorov The Last Testament

A terribly fast-paced and engaging post-apocalyptic novel. The announcement reads as follows: "The usual world is no more, there are only fragments of the past: desert cities lying in ruins, mutant animals and people - disunited and broken. It is up to the scout of the Windblower clan Herman and Hospitaller Francis.

Ru Ego FB Tools, Fiction Book Designer 01/12/2006 http://www.fenzin.org BiblioNet & Aldebaran EGO-7A42-4FB5-A957-7D37AB7F9B11 1.0

v1.0 - creating fb2 Ego

The Last Testament Armada, Alfa-book Moscow 2003 5-93556-314-2

Alexey Pekhov and Andrey Egorov

Last Testament

CHAPTER FIRST

LET THE BEINGS WHO CALL THESELF HUMANS SAY:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to become one of them. In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, the best way to exist is to obey those conditions.

In a world where the shadows are in illusions and believe in the onset of a bright future - to believe.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF PURE MIND:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to influence them.

In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, you must become their absolute masters, and let them become your slaves and slaves of your ideas.

In a world where shadows live in illusions and believe in the onset of a brighter future, your destiny is to show them the way to hell.

Last Testament. Book of the New World. A message to those born again. Art. fifty

The rat-cat stretched itself and, releasing its claws, yawned with a long yawn - it showed the whole world rare sharp teeth. Herman threw off the remnants of drowsiness, got up and, stepping over the beast that was sprawled on the concrete floor, went to the window. The rain did not want to stop, although after two hours it managed to turn from a heavy downpour into a sticky gray drizzle.

Herman threw on the hood of his jacket, designed to protect his head if some poisonous rubbish suddenly appeared in the water falling from the sky. Now the chance to get under the “hot rain” is not as great as in the old days, for example, immediately after the end of the Last War, but who wants to risk their own hair and health? Herman did not smile at all for the rest of his life to walk bald, like Old Kra, who foolishly fell thirty years ago under the “hot rain”.

The old drunk Kra looked extremely repulsive. However, Herman saw in his life such people (the tongue does not dare to call them people) who had live wormy porridge moving on their heads instead of hair, like a ball of tiny snakes, ready at any moment to sting anyone who approaches them. This is truly a disgusting sight.

Perhaps it’s worth sitting in the shelter for another half an hour, - Herman muttered and, turning to the rat cat, asked: - What are your thoughts on this, stupid brute?

Ratcat, as always, did not answer, only twitched his tail. These are all sorts of crazy people, like Meganics with their rabid religious fanaticism, who are used to thinking that any mutants (even if they are frog moles) must necessarily speak and spread heresy among the clans. In fact, the rat cat was a completely harmless creature - it never got into religious disputes, and in general preferred good food to any communication. Simply put, the rat cat was an ordinary animal, not without, however, some innate talents. Judging by the wet footprints on the floor, while Herman was dozing, Anger ran for a walk. Probably hunting howler monkeys again. I wonder how long he was gone?

Herman again went to the broken window and, clinging to the wall, looked out into the street. Opposite the house where he was hiding, there was a building with a collapsed dome - the Central Station of the City. Despite the middle of summer, it was autumn cold, and in the twilight descending on the City, the first foggy threads were already flashing. Fog is the eternal trouble of this part of the City. There is a river nearby, and more damp muddy rubbish falls out of the subway than chewed and bearworms combined. Herman didn't like the fog. The fog hides and deceives. It is never clear what else might be hiding in it, waiting for you, ready to fall on your back as soon as you pass by.

Ratcat suddenly jumped up and pricked up his ears. Somewhere behind the station there was a barely perceptible rumble of a monorail.

“The Meganics are up to something again,” Herman thought, “there has been no life left for them lately. No, it’s positively time to get out of here before trouble comes for me.”

Herman felt very uncomfortable, which, however, is not surprising - this time he climbed too far - from the territory of his native clan, and the Scavengers, who owned this area of ​​​​the City, did not like strangers too much. In fact, they didn't complain at all. And if a stranger has a full bag of seeds and root crops with him, which he stole from them from the garden, then in general a pipe. If they are caught, at best, they will kill them immediately. And most likely, they will take them with them to underground burrows and torture them there ...

The sound of the monorail faded into the misty distance. It was necessary to leave, but Herman could not make up his mind. It would be dark in an hour and a half, and his mind told him that it would be better to wait out the night here, on the top floor of a long abandoned building. But my inner instinct told me otherwise.

Herman looked out the window again. Nothing has changed - the gray, gloomy building of the Central Station, the asphalt wet from the rain, the rusty skeleton of a car, no one knows how it turned out to be pressed against a curved lamppost. Everything is the same as before, only there is more fog, as if someone was urging it on. Something bothered Herman. Something was wrong here...

“We'll have to use the forbidden again,” Herman thought and cursed to himself.

He was not too fond of doing THIS, realizing to himself that it was wrong, and many in the Windblower clan did not tolerate anything forbidden. Not that they were at one with the Meganics, and yet they had the most negative attitude towards the forbidden. German has been accustomed to hiding his special abilities since childhood, but how long can he hide the talent inside himself? Someday they will certainly recognize and brand him as a Universal or even worse - a mutant ...

Herman sighed and, sitting down near the wall, began to scan frequency after frequency, spectrum after spectrum. His mind wandered somewhere far away, and his eyes were completely empty. If someone had looked at Herman at that moment, he would have decided, despite the barely noticeable twitching of his fingers, that the man left his body and went for a walk somewhere.

Alexey Pekhov, Andrey Egorov

Last testament

Chapter first

LET THE BEINGS WHO CALL THESELF HUMANS SAY:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to become one of them. In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, the best way to exist is to obey those conditions.

In a world where the shadows are in illusions and believe in the onset of a bright future - to believe.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF PURE MIND:

In a world where only shadows live, the best way to exist is to influence them.

In a world where shadows dictate the conditions of life, you must become their absolute masters, and let them become your slaves and slaves of your ideas.

In a world where shadows live in illusions and believe in the onset of a brighter future, your destiny is to show them the way to hell.

Last Testament. Book of the New World. A message to those born again. Art. fifty

The rat-cat stretched itself and, releasing its claws, yawned with a long yawn - it showed the whole world rare sharp teeth. Herman threw off the remnants of drowsiness, got up and, stepping over the beast that was sprawled on the concrete floor, went to the window. The rain did not want to stop, although after two hours it managed to turn from a heavy downpour into a sticky gray drizzle.

Herman threw on the hood of his jacket, designed to protect his head if some poisonous rubbish suddenly appeared in the water falling from the sky. Now the chance to get under the "hot rain" is not as great as in the old days, for example, immediately after the end of the Last War, but who wants to risk their own hair and health? Herman did not smile at all for the rest of his life to go bald, like Old Kra, who foolishly got under the “hot rain” thirty years ago.

The old drunk Kra looked extremely repulsive. However, Herman saw in his life such people (the tongue does not dare to call them people) who had live wormy porridge moving on their heads instead of hair, like a ball of tiny snakes, ready at any moment to sting anyone who approaches them. This is truly a disgusting sight.

Perhaps it’s worth sitting in the shelter for another half an hour, - Herman muttered and, turning to the rat cat, asked: - What are your thoughts on this, stupid brute?

Ratcat, as always, did not answer, only twitched his tail. These are all sorts of crazy people, like Meganics with their rabid religious fanaticism, who are used to thinking that any mutants (even if they are frog moles) must necessarily speak and spread heresy among the clans. In fact, the rat cat was a completely harmless creature - it never got into religious disputes, and in general preferred good food to any communication. Simply put, the rat cat was an ordinary animal, not without, however, some innate talents. Judging by the wet footprints on the floor, while Herman was dozing, Anger ran for a walk. Probably hunting howler monkeys again. I wonder how long he was gone?

Herman again went to the broken window and, clinging to the wall, looked out into the street. Opposite the house where he was hiding, there was a building with a collapsed dome - the Central Station of the City. Despite the middle of summer, it was autumn cold, and in the twilight descending on the City, the first foggy threads were already flashing. Fog is the eternal trouble of this part of the City. There is a river nearby, and more damp muddy rubbish falls out of the subway than chewed and bearworms combined. Herman didn't like the fog. The fog hides and deceives. It is never clear what else might be hiding in it, waiting for you, ready to fall on your back as soon as you pass by.

Ratcat suddenly jumped up and pricked up his ears. Somewhere behind the station there was a barely perceptible rumble of a monorail.

“The Meganics are up to something again,” Herman thought, “there has been no life left for them lately. No, it’s positively time to get out of here before trouble comes for me.”

Herman felt very uncomfortable, which, however, is not surprising - this time he climbed too far - from the territory of his native clan, and the Scavengers, who owned this area of ​​​​the City, did not like strangers too much. In fact, they didn't complain at all. And if a stranger has a full bag of seeds and root crops with him, which he stole from them from the garden, then in general a pipe. If they are caught, at best, they will kill them immediately. And most likely, they will take them with them to underground burrows and torture them there ...

The sound of the monorail faded into the misty distance. It was necessary to leave, but Herman could not make up his mind. It would be dark in an hour and a half, and his mind told him that it would be better to wait out the night here, on the top floor of a long abandoned building. But my inner instinct told me otherwise.