Chapter 12. God of the Outlands
You are the flesh of my body.
In you beat the heart of my heart.
Do not follow the false Gods of steel.
For in them lives nothing of my love.
From the book of Isarie.
The land around the fallen battleship containing the Orb, was now strewn with hundreds of empty wagons and waiting Trofar. The mighty Whiptails of the Outlanders had long since run away leaving only the harnessed Tundra beasts. Even though there was a powerful wind blowing from the west, it could not dispel the scent of death.
That wind had summoned the scavengers of the Outlands, they came on wagons and Whiptails or on foot. Sandjars, Outcasts and the beasts of the land. All who came looking for food, treasure, or, power did not leave, they became slaves to the God called Atos.
The Darkman was now, ruler of the army of the dead. He knew they were not truly dead, because they moved, worked and spoke, when commanded. Their souls had long since moved into the Afterlife. That did not matter to the Shadowman, his soul had never been a part of this world.
He sat in a chamber, filled with wires and boxes and things, he could not understand. All around him flashed devices and machinery, dials, and switches, glass plates, glowing with inscriptions in a language that was not his. Above it all this, was a humming sound that filled his ears and seemed like the buzzing of a million dot flies.
All around him, moved the slaves of his God.
How long has it been? He asked himself; how long have I been here? He tried to count the days and nights but he no longer slept. There was no sunlight in the chamber, he was no longer hungry, so he could not number the cycles by his stomach. There was no wind or rain, or another person like himself, to talk to; what does it matter when you can speak to a God.
He knew something great was about to happen, for the work of the slaves never ended. He watched as huge plates of iron were moved from place to place. All matter of strange devices endlessly changing then vanishing. All this told him, his God was doing what he promised, to make the weak strong and destroy all his enemies.
He got up and moved past the Task robots and the many metal workers, diligently doing the work, they were programmed to do. He no longer noticed, the many Sandjars and Nomads who also did as commanded. He walked down the small corridor to the Orb's chamber.
As he walked, his mind began to sense a world outside the dim chamber. It seemed to move beyond his body and float in a dim world of images and realities. For a fraction of time, he was not trapped inside his body, but seeing through the eyes of many, then like a flash of lighting in a power storm, it was gone. Once more he was the half-man that he was.
I am changing; he thought; I am growing beyond myself.
This made him content, he knew, he was becoming more powerful, and power was something that knew no bounds.
He entered the chamber of Atos. It came as no surprise, to find it changed.
The glowing sphere was still at the center of the room, all about, were wires and conduits running to strange devices and machines. It was filled with hundreds of the small efficient Spotters. They seemed to multiply with each passing hour, they moved in mass or individually, to complete any task, their creator wished of them.
The Shadowman came forward and looked at the great Orb, before he could speak, his question was answered.
“Soon” the glowing sphere said.
The Darkman had grown used to having his questions answered, before he spoke. He could not know, the longer the Orb was in contact with his mind, the more it could see into it. It was a factor, its creators knew about. They had made the organic mind, to be able to absorb information, from selected technicians to help it, run the warship. They also knew, prolonged contact, would start a process that would end in a fusing of the two. Those creators, were now long gone, their world a burned out globe of forgotten death.
At other times, the Orb did not know, what the half human was thinking, this troubled the mind only a little. It could control many, different thoughts at the same time, look into the minds of its slaves and control their actions. While it was doing this, it could calculate a thousand equations and move a single grain of sand if need be.
But it too, was changing.
It could not know that once it connected with the Shadowman's mind, it was becoming more than it had been. With each passing day, it began to think of itself not as the controller of the most powerful terror ship of the Trajions, but as....?
That was a question, all its mind power could not answer, it did not have enough information to make a proper determination. It knew, it again had a purpose, to make war and destroy the enemy. It did not matter that it had not been programmed to fight on land and its particle blaze cannons no longer functioned. It did not matter if its numerous banks of sky fire bracing guns were destroyed, and it was of little concern that there were no Hidralinite torpedoes. It did have its main weapon of destruction, the all-powerful Rolac gun, but without its rare power source it was useless.
It did however, still have its shield of poly-gromite bondings and triple Fazic coatings. Still it had energy from its organic and solar power supplies, enough to allow it to function on Gorn when all other mechanisms failed. It could still repair itself and make changes as it saw fit, now it was using those capabilities to their fullest.
All its slaves had been working, without rest and now, their purpose was about to reach an end.
Outside the fallen warship, there was much going on. The Orb sent out small but very important mechanisms. The were the size of new born Burrow Babies, but unlike those harmless ground creatures, these metal creations shone in the sunlight like spiders. They numbered in the hundreds and scurried out of the terror ship like Blaze Ants from their mound. Their bodies made clicking sounds as they moved outward. The Trofar, still attached to the abandoned wagons, began to grunt and paw the ground with their large flat feet. Their grunting turned to roars as the metal crawlers climbed onto their wide backs and up to their massive skulls. The Thundra beasts filled the air with animal screams, as holes were drilled into their flesh and into their minds. They stopped roaring when the controller robots penetrated their brutish brains and made them slaves of the Orb.
Now they stood quietly and waited for their old masters to come and unhitched them from the Karracks and supply wagons. They moved quietly to a place some distance from the fallen ship and waited. The Nomad and Sandjar workers, also waited, they did not wait long.
The sky was clear, and the wind from the West had subsided, there were only Sun-droppers to look down, and witness what was about to take place. At first there was only a soft buzzing sound, not much different to the buzzing of the Marsh Bees, during gathering time, then the buzzing grew. It turned into a humming, then into a sound like the cracking of Doff bird eggs when their chicks broke through their shells. The humming rose higher and higher, until it began to shake the ground and send the small Rockrunners racing for their hiding places.
Inside the chamber of Atos, the Darkman was afraid.
What is happening... is my god returning to the heavens?
The room began to shake violently, several of the small Repair-bots overturned and lay on their sides, frantically waving their tentacled arms about and beeping repeatedly. The Shadowman watched as the Orb began to glow and fill the room with a strange blue light, with the light came more shaking. Violent jolts, shifting, breaking, and with it the sound of ripping metal.
Have the gods sent a land-quake to destroy me? The Shadowman could no longer contain his fear, he fell upon his knees and cried out to the glowing sphere.
“Do not destroy me my god, do not end my life!” he shouted.
The room grew even brighter with the cold blue light, then the Orb spoke.
“It is not the end of your existence, it is a new beginning of mine”.
A great sound filled the air of Omar-Ran, it moved the earth and echoed into the Hollow Hills and beyond. It was a
sound, no Outlander had ever heard before, it was a sound never before, heard by mortals.
It was the sound of a God being born.
The broken hull of the fallen battleship began to break in two, the great steel plating ripped like the robe of a maiden during the Mating ritual. Chunks of armor and useless weapons, fell to the ground, and more debris was piled on top of that. The impulse drive engines, broke from their moorings and crashed into the sand sending up a great plum of dust and smoke. Fuel tanks, not yet emptied of their volatile contents, burst into searing flames as they plummeted to the ground, and rivers of fire began to fan out from the containers.
With a tremendous breaking sound, the outer hull burst apart and like the Nomads after the Burning Time the Orb was reborn.
All the useless machinery and non-functioning devices that had been a part of the broken hull, where now discarded. What remained were the essential mechanisms that would allow the Mind to continue to operate. The gravity drive engines, had been modified so their repulsive force fields where turned downward, making the weight of the hull many times less. Its food supplies, heating, cooling and its capability to manufacture where all still there. It had remade itself, it had a new shape.
The shape of the new container was essentially round. Here and there, outcroppings of machinery could be seen. It mostly resembled a moon that had fallen from the sky. Something had been added, something it needed to complete its mission, it gave mobility.
The Orb had sent out its workers to salvage the great iron wheels and treads that lay amongst the ancient machines all around. They worked without rest to bring the devices to their master, and attach them underneath, now the Sphere could travel over land. They did not bring back everything, some ventured too far from the electromagnetic shielding, surrounded the Orb, and they ceased to function.
Now there was only one more thing to do, the walking dead, attached Torfar, to the newly reborn metal creature. Dull-eyed Outlanders, fixed them to long chains, running from their master to harnesses, still around the strong necks of the beasts. The Sandjar worked beside their one-time enemies, to make sure, the Trofar were fed from the storage wagons, and given enough water before the real work began.
When all was made ready, Atos came to life.
The controller robots began to make clicking sounds again and when they did the Trofar began to move as if they felt the sting of traveling whips.
The Thundra beasts pulled with all their massive strength, hundreds of them pulling together. Enough power to draw a Leviathan out of the Western Sea or topple the Finger of Solus in the Northern lands. Now it was harnessed to pull a God, who had fallen from the stars.
The Grunting of the Trofars mixed with grinding wheels and the sound of rusty metal. Once, twice, three times, they pulled, still the great metal moon refused to move. Then on the forth try, it broke free of its sandy home and began to lurch forward, only inches at first, then as the ground fell away from the huge wheels it continued onward with greater speed.
The Darkman felt the chamber move, and as it did, the Orbs blue light turned to a soft green.
We are moving, this made the Darkman smile, at last we are free.
The Shadowman looked down at the metal arm at his side, he lifted it to watch the long spider like fingers open and close. I can no longer feel flesh in my hand, I will know when I break their bones. Then he looked at the tireless leg that had replaced the useless appendage, he used to have; I can no longer feel the grass but I will know when I crush my enemies. Then he looked around the chamber with the vision of a God; I no longer have the eyes of my birth but I will see the end of my tormentors. Then he gazed at the face of his master, I never prayed, yet I see the face of a God! This made him laugh.
The Orb had seen many things through the eyes of information gatherers and its creations. The mind watched as they worked, ate, slept, and fought for their lives. It watched as they died, it could see the fear in their eyes, and could feel the terror in their souls, when their minds were opened. All this it understood, it was information valuable in warfare and for victory, there was one thing it never understood.
Laughter.
Something that eluded the all-knowing mind, something it would never understand.
Sunfall was just beginning, when the Orb began to move from the hidden valleys of Omar-Ran and into the endless Sirolian Plains. It left behind the remnants of its former self and the powerful weapons that had once destroyed whole planets. It left behind the encounter ships that had forced the star fleet of the Morrogon into a black hole near the outer ring of Ortuse. It left behind the sky fire guns that decimated the gravity mines of the Frocor alliance. It left behind the hidralinite torpedoes that could penetrate the strongest shielding, to explode, sending out a pulse wave that would shatter the strongest Itarian steel. All this power it left behind because it was now useless. There was one thing, it did take, the one thing, it could not exist without.
Its will to destroy.
So the Trofars pulled and the soulless Nomads and Sandjar walked beside them. They did not know where they were going and with their minds empty they did not care. They were all just gloves of the Orb and its will, filled them.
There was one, who could still think, and wonder about the thing he saw.
Valen was once a strong warrior of the tribe of the Caladon, he had been made Outcast when he refused to bow to their new King. He was tall and strong with a handsome face except for a long battle scar that ran from his right cheek up into his dark braided hair. He now sat astride his weary Whiptail, and looked down from a high ridge at the mass of moving Trofar, and the strange wagon, they pulled.
Although the young warrior had a quick mind, and was able to stand before an enemy without fear, He still could not keep his heart from beating, like a hammer of the Ironworkers.
What is this thing? He asked his mind; is this some new weapon of the Talsonar?
He knew, the army of the Pyramid City had been destroyed, its strength gone. He was sure that no Shadowman could build such a monstrous thing, as he saw before him. The people of the dark have returned to their land; he assured himself. He thought it might be a trick of his eyes, so he closed them and waited for a moment to let his mind rest and utter a small prayer to Isarie to grant him clear sight once more. When he opened them again, the THING still remained.
This is no witches trick or a false image of the sand and heat; and he knew, he had not eaten any Boda, the dream mushroom that brings phantoms of the mind and sometimes death. This thing before me is real; it was then, he knew what to do; I must warn my people, for this creature brings death.
The Caladon warrior dug his spurs into the flanks of his mount, although Valen was branded an Outcast and no longer the chosen of the Gods, he was still a warrior of the Outlands. He would not run from battle.
Now the twin suns vanished from the sky and the night moons replaced the brightness of the day with the cool light of the evening.
Eka was once the smallest of the family of the night. The tiny moon, was the patron of the young. Children of the Outlanders used to sing to her, and ask that she soften the hearts of their mothers and fathers, when they had broken some rule of their tribe. It was Eka that they prayed to for gifts, during the festivals of the heavens, when all the Nomads gave thanks to Isarie for her wisdom and love.
The face of Eka, shone with a light the color of a Corvas shell on the beach of the Western Sea. It looked down and smiled on all the creatures that came out when Karus, Gorn’s huge sun and its little brother Micos, went to sleep. For ages it had traveled with its bothers and sisters and watched all the wonders that took place on their mother below. Now, it saw a sight, it had never seen before, a creature not made by the wisdom of the Gods, but by the nightmares of demons.
Nomads The Fallen God Page 13