Sahte peygamber…

Maslakhat twitched as the wind whispered in his ears. The months of complete solitude he had endured were beginning to take their toll on him. He had not seen another living soul since the two Akhal-Tekes wandered through and then disappeared as though they were never even here. And Valve had been missing since they had won back this place. He was less worried about her however, and more concerned with the voices in the breeze. So tantalizingly gentle, yet deceptive.

“There are no false prophets here,” the stallion said aloud with a furrowed brow. “And my deities would not whisper such blasphemy.”

Yalancı… went the wind.

“Iblis!” he shouted and reared, his ears pinned to his skull. “Be gone!”

The wind calmed and the hot, dead air once more stagnated and settled around him. Maslakhat snorted and thought of Zenith. No wonder he lost his mind, living alone for so long. He allowed himself to become weak and demons surely took advantage. But that would not happen to Maslakhat—no. He was not weakened by anything other than a lack of company, and that was not enough to fell his constitution.

Now add hunger to the mix and he could see how Zenith might have allowed himself to lose his head completely. Fortunately, the Dunes had ample resources if one knew where to find them—and Maslakhat was certainly no stranger here.

Yes, some food and water would do him good, he thought. And so he ventured slowly across the shifting sands toward the scent of fresh water and new fodder.



MASLAKHAT
ateş düştüğü yeri yakar