Nomads The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 14. The Norgonie

  The people of the forests are your kin.

  They are not the chosen of my heart.

  For they bow before a false God.

  But when the day of ending comes.

  They will perish in fire.

  From the book of Isarie.

  “Father, why do the Nomads hate the Norgonie?” It was a question that had been troubling Endo since they passed through the Belt of Isarie. Now as he held the reins of their Karrack, he asked the old man who sat beside him, scribbling on a half-finished scroll of Rimar hide.

  “The Norgoine do not hate their brethren” the Callaxion replied, “they simply worship another God called Arm-Ra, who they believe was the father of the Outlanders first deity Isarie”.

  “If the Nomads and the Norgonie, do not drink from the same cup, why would seek to sit at the same table?”

  Osh was very proud of the query from his son; he is asking the right questions; the old man thought. He put down his writings and turned his full attention to the young Sandjar. “You see my son, the Nomad's life, is governed by a series of ritual events. These are set down by the movements of the stars and the number of days in the cycle of their sun years. Most of all, it is ruled by the moons overhead”, to empathize his statement, he pointed to the three day moons, seen clearly above. “The Outlanders use them as a guide to their travels. Each tribe has specific rules, saying where they must be at certain times, so they do not come into conflict with other Nomads. The Madrigal, Caladon, Armrod, Ozendra and all the other Outland families, obey those ancient laws and if they don’t they risk war with the other tribes.”

  Endo listened intently and nodded his head in understanding; the Sandjar have similar rules.

  “From information I have obtained from the tribe, it has been many cycles since the Madrigal have ventured into the Caltarine forests. Now their laws say, they must feast with the Norgonie and perform certain rituals that cannot be done anywhere else. I suspect it has something to do with their religious beliefs, there are other tribes who live in the woodlands, but the Norgonie are the strongest.”

  The Sandjar boy thought this over for a short time, as his father returned to his writings. He had learned not to rush into questions and to take time to find the right words to speak his mind, “are there many Gods?” he finally asked.

  Osh continued to write, “oh my, yes, the Outlanders have dozens and I dare say, we will find, the Norgonie also worship many others. Then, if you take into account the Gods, lesser Gods and Deities of other worlds, you would arrive at a number that must surely be astronomical”. This made the old man put down his writings and begin to calculate the number, he had only begun his list when his adopted son spoke again.

  “Why do they need so many Gods?” The green skinned boy asked.

  This questioned caused Osh to stop his computing. “Well, I think it is because there are so many, different creatures in the universe, and each one wants to believe, they are above the rest. They want to think, their God, is the only one, and all others are false”.

  Again there was a pause, as the boy thought this over, but not for long.

  “Then which one is the one true God?”

  Osh was about to answer his son, when he realized, this was a question that scholars greater than he, had been arguing about for thousands of cycles. So he decided on a much easier topic of discussion.

  “Wouldn’t you rather talk about sex”, he asked.

  This made the young Sandjar smile, and seeing that look, the old man knew, telling his son about reproduction, was going to be much less complicated than resolving the question on whose God was supreme.

  Far in front of Osh’s wagon and leading the tribe of the Madrigal, Arn and Andra looked out over the lush landscape before them. It was a place of plenty, with patches of red leafed trees and shallow streams of crystal clear water. All about were herds of fat Rimar and families of magnificently plumed Doff-birds. There were wild Spikebacks and pods of huge Ax-Breakers, and in the distance could be heard the roar of hungry Whiptails as they watched and waited for any sign of weakness to feast upon. There were fields of yellow and blue flowers and overhead could be seen flocks of colorful feathered birds of all shapes and sizes. The scent of life was in the air.

  This land is a paradise; Andra thought; the people who live here must be very happy. She looked over at the tall warrior riding beside her; I am very happy now, I have all that I want. Once more she breathed in the fresh clean air, as she did an image flashed into her mind. An image of tall warriors in green and brown, then like the lighting in the Outlands it was gone. She shook her head; what was it that I saw?

  It had been many cycles, since Arn’s Whiptail, had walked these lands, the last time was when he was still just a Prince of the Nomads and not a King. Long days and night had passed from that time until now and he had learned many things. In all those lessons, he had failed to overcome the image, now plaguing his mind.

  Will she recognize my face? He thought; would I still know her eyes? No matter how hard he tried, he could not drive those hypnotic eyes from his heart.

  There was one person whose heart was lighter now, Anais had come out of the darkness and into the light. He now sat quietly beside the Handmaiden, who the Holy Mother had asked to stay with her son. Kela was content to do so, now she held the reins of the Prince's wagon and spoke to him of many things.

  “I was only a young girl, when I was chosen, to be a Handmaiden”, she said. “My father was a warrior he was killed in a battle with the Caladon, my mother is also dead, she died during rebirth and so did my brother”.

  The blind man listened to the woma's sad story. Unlike in the past, his heart felt pain, from her words; she has suffered much; he thought; as have I. For a moment, he thought, he was, hearing, the voice of someone else, in his head. He had spent many cycles hating all those who spoke of mercy or love.

  I wanted to change, perhaps I am? Knowing there might be a place for him in the Golden Hall of the Goddess. Rather than burning for eternity in the Pit of Marloon, made him feel a warmth, he had not felt in a very long time.

  “Your life has not been an easy one”, he told the young woman, “do you still believe in the mercy of Isarie?”

  There was no hesitation from the Handmaiden, “oh yes” she smiled, “Isarie is wise and the Holy Mother is her heart”.

  Those words moved in the blind man’s mind; she loves Isarie; he thought; she loves my mother.

  In the moving shrine of the Goddess Egmar's heart was not content.

  She sat alone in her chamber and stared at the cup of Deep-root tea, she held in her hand. This tea is bitter; she thought; I am the voice of the Goddess, I deserve better! S,he took the cup and threw it on the floor, then shouted to a Handmaiden, who she had commanded to stand near her. “Bring me another cup of tea, and this time make sure it’s the best!”

  “At once Holy Mother”, the Handmaiden said with fear in her words, “and I will make certain it’s the finest we have”, with a bow the woman left to do her mistress’s will.

  Egmar watched her go; silly girl, why can I not have better servants? She looked over at the small golden statue of Isarie that always sat on a delicately carved, wooden shrine, near her bed. “You are the greatest God of all, yet your chosen are not”, she said softly. “Perhaps your choice of mates was ill conceived”, this jest made her smile, she turned to look at the table beside her. On it was a silver bowl filled with ripe Balbar fruit, a well-made iron figure of a creature, holding candles in its clawed hands and a large black spider.

  The Holy Mother smiled at the dark arachnid, “is there laughter in the Underworld?” she asked.

  The spider moved its head from side to side, “there is no laughter, for all is pain”, it replied.

  Egmar stared into the red eyes of the creature; I know, this thing cannot be; she thought; still I see it? She closed her eyes; why do I see it, why do I listen to its words? She opened her eyes.<
br />
  The spider was no longer there.

  She sat for a time, trying to remember, what had taken place only a short time before. She remembered the light of morning and the warm Hagar soup she had eaten. She remembered sending Kela to her son, then darkness came over her. Try as she might she could not remember things after that.

  What has happened to me, why do I feel as I do, what do I carry inside me? All these questions plagued her mind and burdened her heart. She felt like her soul, was being split in two, one side in the light the other in darkness. She turned to look at the Holy Book of Isarie, sitting on a pedestal, at the other end of the chamber. In the book is the wisdom of the Goddess, in it are the words that will bring clearness to my vision and music to my ears.

  She got up from her seat and went to the book and opened the ornate cover, she looked down at the delicate inscriptions and started to recite words that had always given her comfort.

  “Isarie looked down upon her father and saw, he was dead, and knowing this, she took his skull and from it made the vault of the heavens. Then she took his body and from it made the world beneath your feet”. Hearing her own words made the weight lift from her shoulders. Isarie can heal any wound, she can drive all demons away for she lives in the light.

  “I have brought your tea Holy Mother”, the Handmaiden said as she put the silver tray on the table.

  Egmar turned to her and smiled, “thank you” she said. She went over and sat near the table, then she let the woman, pour the fragrant drink. “I am sorry, I spoke harshly to you my child. It was my age speaking and not my heart” She took a sip of the warm tea. Tasting it, anyone could tell, it was indeed made from the best roots that could be found in the Outlands. To the Holy Mother, it had a bitter taste. Out of a corner of her eye, she could see a dark apparition sitting on the open pages of the Holy Book and she could hear it speak.

  “Rahash” it said.

  Egmar took the cup in her hand and threw it to the floor, then she put her scarred face into her hands and wept.

  It was late in the day when, the Madrigal approached the Great Forest.

  Before them lay a land of tall trees rising up like emerald warriors, they stood shoulder to shoulder an army of ever watching guardians. Behind them in the distance, were tall cloud covered mountains that seemed to reach so high, they could block the moons in the sky and force them to move around their jagged peaks.

  Arn knew, they were coming to the end of their journey, he had looked forward and dreaded this for a long time. Although it had been many cycles since his tribe had traveled this way, it was not long enough to erase his memories. Now as he looked at the endless forest before him, it seemed like he had never been away. The air smelled of life and growing things, and behind that drifted the sweet smell of the White Lotus.

  The death shadow; he thought; the flower of fire. As his keen senses took in the memories of his past, his mate riding beside him, also felt a stirring in her mind.

  A white flower? She asked her mind; why am I thinking of a white flower? She turned the head of her Whiptail, so she was riding close to the Kings side. “What can you tell me about a white flower?” she asked.

  The Selcarie woman's question, made him stop his waking dream; she hears my thoughts, speak the truth or she will know. “In the forests of the Norgonie, there is a flower, called the death shadow, its petals are as white as the snow on the mountains, its fragrance burns the mind”. Arn hoped there would be no more questions but it was not to be.

  “Burns the mind?” the woman, asked, “what does that mean?”

  The King did not want to answer and looking for a way out, he pointed ahead with his war-ax, “now is not the time for questions, watch and you will see the forest come alive”.

  Andra did not grow up with the Outlanders, she was a farm girl who had always stood up for herself and refused to back down when she wanted something. She wanted her questions answered; if he thinks I’m going to keep quiet, like a housemaid he is... Before she could put her thoughts into words, there was a great blast of horns and she turned to see the forest awake.

  With a rising of the Kings ax, the wagons of the Madrigal stopped. The Elders watched as the warriors rode past them to the front of the column. Only the Thungodra stayed behind to guard the Holy Shrine. They drew closer to the huge wagon and lowered their face guards. There was a whispering of prayer, asking Isarie to give them the strength, to keep their vow of keeping the Holy Mother safe or perishing by her side.

  In the back of the wagons, Kuno shouted out the order to turn their Spikebacks, so the tribe's long-range weapons could be fired at what lay ahead.

  “Stand ready to fire if called on”, he shouted “and if you miss your mark, I will have your heads!”

  When all was done, as he had ordered, he sat proudly on his beast and smiled at the sky overhead.

  If they want to fight; he thought; it is a good day for it. When he thought no one was looking, he lifted up a jug of well-aged Po that hung from his saddle horn and took a deep draft of its sour contents. If I am going to die this day I do not have to die thirsty.

  Anais, did not see the warriors riding to the front, he did not need to, he knew, they were approaching the great forest and he knew what lay within. I will find what I seek there; why? He thought, he did not know, and it caused him to smile.

  Beside him Kela held the reins of the Trofar tightly. The last time they had journeyed to the land of the Norgonie she was still a child, and had not yet reached her first re-birth. They do not worship as we do; she thought; they are not of the chosen.

  Osh, was very excited at seeing what no other scholar of the Outer Rim had ever seen. Although, there was some information about the Nomads and the different species that lived in the stone cites. There was very little known about the people who made their home in the mysterious Forests of Caltarine. Knowing he was going to be the first Callaxion, to record the society that lived there, made his old heart pound with excitement.

  I will see what no other has seen; he thought; perhaps someday my name will be spoken in the great halls of learning? This hoped for future, made him take out a fresh scroll of Rimar hide and open a new pot of marking ink.

  “I wonder if they are a matriarchal or patriarchal society? Do they hunt or cultivate their food?” These questions were purely rhetorical and it did not matter anyway, because his Sandjar son had questions of his own.

  “Do you think, they will try to eat me?” he asked his father.

  The old man shook his head, “I don’t think so, although technically it is not cannibalism, I do not think they would do such an uncivilized thing”.

  These answers brought some pain to the Callaxion's mind, for he knew quite well, eating your own kind was a common practice among the Scavengers. He thought he should apologize to his Sandjar son but he decided not to and let the matter go.

  Endo heard his father's words; they may not eat me; he mused; that does not mean they will not kill me. Then unseen by his father, he reached down, to make sure the chamber rifle he kept under his seat was still there.

  The warriors of the Madrigal, formed in long battle lines in front of the wagons and fanned out to the right and the left of their King. They held their weapons in strong fists and waited silently. It was an impressive sight, each man and woman held their heads high and the suns shone on their horned helmets in flashes of gold and silver. Under them the fearsome Whiptails pawed the ground and grunted, they opened and closed their dagger rowed jaws and sniffed the air hoping to find the scent of blood on the wind. Long spike tipped tails, snapped back and forth like grass snakes under the boot heel of an Outlander and when they struck the ground, tufts of greenery tore loose from the earth.

  There were no war cries from the Madrigal, they did not beat the drums nor shout to the Gods to grant them the strength to kill their enemies. They simply stood like statues, iron hard and unmoving, inside each one of them beat the heart of a warrior.

  Arn the King also wa
ited, his keen eyes watched the forest line ahead of him like a Sagar cat watching for prey. The corded muscles on his forearm tighten, as he gripped the handle of his war-ax and a small trickle of sweat began to form on his upper lip.

  All this Andra saw clearly, although she did not know why, her heart began to beat harder, as if she was being chased by someone or something.

  There is danger here; she thought, there was also something else, something she was not sure about. A face flashed before her eyes, a woman’s face, a face with glowing green eyes. Before she could know what she saw, the image was gone. She watched as Arn spurred his Whiptail forward a few lengths, then called out in a voice that filled the air.

  “We are the Madrigal, we come to your lands in peace, if you wish to fight we are here!”

  The words of the King hung in the air for a time, there was only the sound of the wind to answer him. Then like the roaring of an Earth Shaker, the Forests of Caltarine came alive. A great blast of voices, rose up from the trees and with it came an echoing cry of just one word.

  “Norgonie!”

  Out of the great forest came the Emerald people, they rode great beasts that numbered in the hundreds. They were not Whiptails or Spikebacks or any animal that roamed the Outlands, these were creatures of shadowed woods and open glens, rulers of their domain.

  They moved on four huge legs, and were twice the height of a man. They were called Rowgor, and their grayish green barrel like bodies, were covered in thick hide, as strong as armor. They had short heavy necks and a broad flat head with two massive tusks protruding out like great ivory teeth. They had no mouth to speak of, just a large dripping maw with a dozen or more tentacles that waved about ready to snatch anything in their path. Two small eyes gave them sight and between those eyes was a large bony plate to further protect their thick skulls.

  Riding on top of each one was a warrior of the Norgonie, they were not as massively built as the Nomads with their wide shoulders and heavy arms. These people were tall and slim, with long strong frames made for speed, rather than strength. Their elegant chiseled bodies, were covered in animal skins and small plates of armor. Where skin showed, it was stained green by the juice of Safic berries.

  Arn watched as the Norgonie came forward, and as they did, his heart beat faster.

  It has been a long time; he thought; now that time is over.

  Andra held her place as she watched the wall of forest people coming towards her. She could feel her Whiptail between her legs, shaking in anticipation. She did not know, it if was from fright, or its eagerness to fight.

  No one spoke, as the moving wall of warriors rode forward. The ground began to shake from the pounding of the Rowgor’s heavy feet, and several of the Nomad's Whiptails pulled at the bits in their mouths and roared, eager for battle.

  As they drew closer, Andra could make out more detail of the riders. They were both male and female, each one sitting proudly on an ornately decorated saddle, with a large round shield. Carry bags and hand weapons were hung from it. Under the saddle, was a heavy blanket of finely woven chain mail that reached almost to the ground, Afurther protection against arrows, spears or whatever weapon might be used against them.

  The warriors held a long spear in their hands and around their waists hung long daggers fixed to broad belts, made from Rimar hide.

  They are well equipped for the forest; she thought remembering her days as a soldier, fighting in many dense forests and woodlands. Not only on her own Home-world, but also many other battlefields of the Outer Rim.

  Arn remained calm as the Norgonie, moved slowly over the distance, between the forest and where the Outlanders waited for them. Although his face showed no emotion, inside he was troubled; they have not changed; he heard is mind say; they are still proud and ride as if they rule this world.

  Osh’s heart also beat hard, it was from excitement at the sight before him; they are magnificent; he thought, as his thin fingers quickly scribbled his observations. He could hardly control his hands, as he worked feverishly to record every tiny detail, of what he saw.

  Beside him Endo was apprehensive, his people had never seen the mysterious Norgonie, and in their culture, they were known as demons who would torture you with glee, then devour your body. He reached down once more and touched the cold barrel of his chamber rifle.

  There was only a short distance now, between the people of the forest and the wanderers of the Outlands.

  Andra could now make out clearly the face of their leader. She was a woman, she was tall with a strong body and elegantly carved features. A straight nose and high cheekbones, her lips were full and colored red. Her hair was ebony and braided with ivory and gold stays, the long fangs of a Sagar cat hung next to her face. Around her neck was a necklace made from animal teeth. Her skin was a dusky color, marked with green stripes, as were her shapely legs and strong arms.

  She wore a short garment of spotted skin, it hugged her well-proportioned frame, showing off a body that was both strong and supple. Around her small waist was a broad belt, with an ivory handled dagger hanging in its sheath.

  The most intriguing thing about her, were her eyes. They were deep emerald green, in color and seemed to glow with an inner fire.

  Suddenly Andra remembered the imaged that had flashed in her mind; the face with glowing green eyes, that face is hers!

  Before the Selcarie woman could wonder how such a thing could be, the green eyed woman’s Rowgor stopped in front of the King and they both looked at each other. It was the woman who spoke first.

  “It has been a long time Arn of the Madrigal”, she said softly, then she pointed her spear at the Nomad, “if you come for battle then the Queen of the Norgonie is ready”.

  Arn mulled over her words, then with a smile on his face, he looked up at the sky, the suns were about to set. “It is late in the day for fighting, perhaps we could rest for tonight and see what tomorrow holds?”

  This brought a smile to the face of the warrior woman and she lowered her spear. “Very well, tonight we will feast and dance under the stars”. Her face changed and her eyes burned with fire, “ remember this, if you lie to me again, your head will hang from my saddle”.

  The King said nothing, he lowered his war-ax, and seeing this the warriors to his left and right did the same. The leader of the forest people turned to her tribe and spoke in a voice all could hear.

  “Tonight we feast!” hearing those words, the Norgonie gave out with a loud cheer, and hearing it the Outlanders took up the call and the air filled with shouts of joy.

  There was one Norgonie who did not cry out, instead, he sat astride his Rowgor and gazed with a cold vengeance at the King of the Madrigal.

  How long I have waited; Ral thought; now the waiting is over.

  As the Nomads followed the Norgonie into their forest, Andra could not help but wonder at the words she had heard the woman speak. If you lie to me again? She thought; why would she say that? She looked over at Arn riding beside her; did he know this woman before me? She knew, the Nomads were a very long lived people, their yearly cycle was the equivalent of four of her years. She also knew, Arn had seen many cycles, even though he looked young, he was three times her age and more. It would be silly to think, he had never had a woman, before her, but knowing this did not cool the jealousy, beginning to burn inside her.

  Before she could ask about the woman, they entered the age-old forest of Caltarine.

  It was like, being swallowed by nature. All around was life, a green world of fantastic plants and animals, gigantic trees with trunks so large, a dozen men holding hands could not encircle them. They rose up like moss covered giants, to a canopy that filtered in the sunlight in golden beams of warmth. The limbs of those trees grew together, until it appeared that the whole forest was one single plant, a colossal interwoven flora of green.

  Along with the great trees, were numerous smaller vegetation’s, saplings and vines as thick as a man's arm, or as small as a child’s finger. Flowers o
f all shapes and colors, grew everywhere and with them came a fragrance that filled the soul and made the head spin.

  Strange creatures also thrived in the forest, birds of magnificent plumage, feathered with all the colors of the rainbow. Their chirping and wild cries, filled the ear along with the guttural roars of beasts that remained hidden in the thick foliage. Dotflies and Whisper-wings, darted about trying to evade predators, only to be trapped and devoured by plants that fed on their kind.

  For all its beauty, Andra could also feel danger, she did not know why or how, from the corner of her eyes she could almost see creatures watching her. What they were or why they watched, she did not know? When she turned to look at them they vanished, like mist in the morning. Along with the creatures, there seemed to be a memory, a vague remembrance of things past. Although she knew it could not be her past, it was still calling out to her and roused deep feelings in her heart.

  Why do I remember, when I shouldn't? She asked herself, then the words of the green-eyed woman returned to haunt her. She turned to her mate, who did not look at her and seemed far away.

  “Who was the woman who said not to lie to her again?” she asked calmly.

  Without turning his head the King replied. “Her name is Ishea, she was once my mate”.