Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон

Several novices came running up. Only one had water in a small bucket.

— Put it out quickly. — Neuroch said, approaching the underdome space. — An eschekist tried to set us on fire. One of the novices immediately turned around:

— And where is he, Your Holiness?

— You find out where he is! — The patriarch snapped at him, stopping under the dome itself, which was already gathering smoke from the flames. — Find out his name, too.

They can't even put the fire out right away. I told them to get water right away. But in fact, one of the four has water. And what will the others do? Pray for the good of his sacred extinguishing? Stupid boys. They don't realize that the only way to achieve something is by force.

Force, not prayer. One that is feared and respected. Which makes you tremble at its mere mention… And then you can bless it… When nothing stands in the way….

Zhivenko

Natasha had a dream similar to the previous ones. This dense, endless forest, where you couldn't see the huge armies, but you could feel their presence. At least this time it wasn't raining so much. It was quite dry, dark and quiet. No rumbling. No hum of voices. No stirring of any kind.

She suddenly found herself in the middle of a small grove that was quite light and peaceful. No warriors, weapons, armor were felt nearby. Only a young man in the work clothes of a miner stood in front of her. Handsome, strong, and with very intelligent eyes. Clear eyes. The kind that a girl would like to drown in, as in something light and exciting at the same time.

— Maria. Her name is Maria. — he said.

— I don't understand… What secret am I supposed to learn with her? What will it change? — Natasha answered incomprehensibly, trying to see some truth in his eyes, but there was none. There was only a direct, clear look without the heaviness that usually comes from the eyes of a person who knows something important.

— It will change your life. It'll change everyone else's life. It'll even change my death.

Because I miss her so much.

Very strange words. He seemed very much alive, healthy and full of vigor. His skin was a little pale, but that was nothing more than the color of his skin. But something seemed odd about him, and it wasn't yet clear what it was….

— How do I find her?

— First you have to want it. And when you want it, they'll help you find it. There are plenty of people who can do that around you… I couldn't find it if I were you. No one would help me. But they will help you. If you want it, of course.

Natasha looked at him, and she felt scared. And then she realized why. He wasn't breathing!

It was quiet, and she could hear her own breathing, her own heartbeat, and the occasional breeze.

But he's not breathing. And his chest doesn't move. It's a dead man!

She staggered backward, and then it was as if she recoiled:

— Stop! You're dead!

— Yes. It is. I told you that you can change the lives of others and even my death.

— Why change it?! Why change anything if you're dead???? — Natasha screamed and immediately covered her hands with her palms…..

— It's all right, Natasha. You're what…" someone's voice said, a little anxiously.

She woke up. In sweat and Misha's arms. He stroked her head and held her close to him:

— Natasha… My darling, it's all right… Everyone's alive. It's all right.

She calmed down a little, especially seeing that his eyes were not at all like the man she had just seen in her dream. Misha's eyes were very alive and very specific, all business and constant thoughts about different details. It was a little comforting right now.

— I saw him again. In my dream. — said the girl.

— Who? The warrior who told you about the secret of the Black Stone?

— Yes. Him. Maria. He said again that I had to find her. And I would if I wanted to. And that it would change other people's lives. And his death. He was already dead. And he said he missed her, I guess. Maria, since he kept talking about her. Should I believe it?

Misha took a deep breath. After all these betrayals and suspicions, the question of trust seemed blasphemous to him:

— Trust who? Who to trust? There Grisha … How many I knew him. How many we fought hand in hand. How much blood spilled … And he, it turns out, surrenders us to the plagues … And happily does it … You should have seen his eyes … And how he said it "penalty major Bolotnikov" … His last words. Words full of contempt. Like the devil himself said them, it made me shudder… And how easily he sent himself to the other world. Just like that.

— You didn't want to tell me.

— Yeah. I didn't mean to. It's the kind of thing you don't want to tell anyone. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have— I just couldn't help myself. I wanted to say it to someone else instead of dragging it out with the major.

— How did you know it was him? Why did you even go to check on Grisha?

— No one believed it was Ranierov. He's a real piece of work. But a lot of things didn't add up. So I started thinking. I went to Bolotnikov and told him that Gora was too definite about Ranierov. As if there were no options. As if there's no one else… And there's that girl the miners asked us to meet, but we couldn't find her. Her father's a foreman, after all. And he didn't say anything about her. Maybe he's got his own game going on. Now that he's prefect, he's got so many subordinates. Maybe he didn't want to