"Robert Doherty - Area 51 - Nosferatu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doherty Robert)

Second Age, when the Shadows of the Gods made by the God Horus ruled, and before
that, beyond the borders of what man knew as recorded history, there was the
First Age, when those Gods, known as the Airlia, ruled the humans who lived
along the lush banks of the Nile.
It was the time of the Gods who came to Egypt from the legendary land of
Atlantis beyond the Middle Sea after the great Atlantean Civil War. It was
fifty-five hundred years before the Great Pyramid would be built by the Pharaoh
Khufu according to the plans handed down by the Gods. For now the Giza Plateau
was graced only by the alien beauty of a magnificent Black Sphinx, over three
hundred feet long with red eyes that glowed as if lit from within. The Black
Sphinx, set deep in a depression carved into the plateau, guarded the main
entrance to the Roads of Rostau. The warren of tunnels and chambers under the
plateau was where the Gods lived, and from which they ruled through the human
high priests, occasionally venturing forth to look out upon their subjects, an
event that was becoming rarer and rarer. There were whispered rumors that the
Gods were growing older, but how could that be, if they were indeed Gods?

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Deep under the plateau, along one of the minor branches of the Roads, was a
dead-end corridor with three cells along one side. In the first cell were what
appeared to be a pair of black metal coffins over seven feet in length by three
wide and high. They were not coffins, however, but special prisons, each holding
a body. At the head of each tube was a small glowing panel with a series of
hexagonal sections on which were etched markings in the High Rune language of
the Gods.
Inside the tube closest to the cell door was a half-man, half-God, whose
existence was one of unending exhaustion and pain. His name was Nosferatu. He
had memories of sunlight and playing in the sand while a womanтАФhis human motherтАФ
stood nearby, keeping a watchful eye on him. He'd even played with true humans,
children of the high priests, who could look forward to serving the Gods as
their parents did. Nosferatu's fate was to be one of service also, but in a much
different way. His memories were of a time so long ago that he often wondered if
the vague memories were not memories at all but instead a dream. Yet he held on
to the concept that he could not dream something he had never seen. He must have
been above ground in the sunlight sometime. He remembered palm trees and the sun
reflecting off a sand dune and even the blue water of the mighty Nile flowing
by. He remembered the stories the high priests told to their children, tales of
Atlantis, the Gods called Airlia, and the great civil war among the Gods that
had destroyed Atlantis. He'd listened to the other children being taught the
language of the Gods and learned as much as he could along with the High Rune
writing.
It was all for naught, though, because when he'd reached manhood, he'd been
taken from the sunlight and brought below to serve. Three hundred years he'd
been
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trapped in this tube in this underground cell. Not as a punishment, for he had
done nothing to deserve this fate other than to be born who and what he was, but
to serve the purpose for which he had been conceived: to provide pleasure in a