Chapter 23. Answers
In my Holy Temple lie the answers to all questions.
For my knowledge is without end and my wisdom vast.
Those that worship me may enter and be safe.
Those that do not bow down before me will die.
From the Book of Arm-Ra.
Andra lay unconscious in the King's tent, and although the best of the Touchtenders cared for her, the Angel of Death hovered near. Arn stood by her bedside, watching as the healers worked their magic on his beloved. Although he did not show it, his heart was filled with pain.
I will not let her die; he told himself; If I have to sacrifice my life for hers I will. It was a vow that he took very seriously, he would have made the offering, if he were certain that the Gods would grant his wish. He knew that prayers often go unheeded, and the best way to assure contentment, is to do the thing yourself. He commanded the Touchtenders, to do whatever they could, use whatever was at their disposal, to save the life of the one he loved.
That was exactly what the mystic healers did. They mixed ancient remedies and potions, they placed healing amulets by her head. They filled the air of the tent, with rare incense and spices, as they did this, they chanted magical words over and over again.
They mixed large portions of Grana with fresh milk from a strong Trofar. They poured it into her mouth, knowing that the green salt, was the gift of the Goddess, the most powerful medicine they possessed. They did this all through the night, and into the morning, but still the Selcarie woman did not awaken.
As a last resort, Arn sent for Osh, hoping that his Off-World wisdom, might bring Andra back from the darkness and into the light. The King waited until a warrior entered the shelter, and told him that the Callaxion had arrived.
“Send him in quickly”, ordered the King.
A few moments later, the old man entered the tent, he stood for a moment, looking down on the woman who had saved his life, then he spoke.
“Send everyone away”, he said with authority. This was not the way that the Callaxion usually spoke, seeing the condition of his friend, he took it upon himself to take charge.
Arn could see that Osh needed space to work, so he ordered the Touchtenders to leave. Not wanting to disobey their King, they bowed and walked slowly out of the tent. When they were gone, the old man moved to the woman's bedside and began to examine her.
When Osh had first heard that his old friend was injured, he quickly gathered up his carry bag, and filled it with as many devises and herbs as he could carry. He understood that the knowledge of a Touchtender was vast, their healing methods very great, but they did not have the scientific understanding of human physiology that he had. Although he would not usually intrude on the traditions of the Nomads, the affection he had for Andra, made him rush to her side.
He gently removed the soft cloth that was covering Andra’s head, he looked at the wound on her head.
There is a massive contusion to her cranial cavity, he thought; I cannot be sure if there is a swelling of the brain, she is definitely in a deep coma. Osh was not a doctor by any means, he had scanned many medical journals, and was once responsible for collating information on war injuries on Yougorno, when they fought with the Parragans. Now he used that knowledge, to try to help his friend. After checking her over, he could see that she had many small cuts and scrapes on her body, the head wound was the only thing that might kill her.
After replacing the cloth on her head, he turned to the waiting King. “All that can be done, has been done”, he said solemnly, “she is in a deep sleep, whether she will wake from that sleep I cannot say”.
Arn heard the old man's words and understood, but he wanted more. “All your wisdom cannot help her?” he asked.
Osh shook his head, “no, it is beyond my knowledge”.
For a moment, the old man thought the King was going to speak to him again. He watched him turn away and knew it was time to leave, he picked up his carry bag and quietly left the tent.
Once outside, he walked past the many warriors, who were standing guard around their leader, past the Handmaidens, who had tears in their eyes. He continued to walk back to his Karrack. Moving through a narrow corridor between two stone buildings, he suddenly heard footsteps moving swiftly behind him. Before he could turn, to see who it was, a dark robe was forced over his head and a strong hand covered his mouth. Despite his struggles, he was carried away to an unknown fate.
It could be said that the Ceremony of Rowgal, was the main reason that the Nomads, came to the Forest of Caltarine, and it would have been mostly true, for they were a very religious people. It was not the only reason, they also came to trade. The people of the forest had many things they wanted, and despite concern over the fate of the King's mate, it did not stop the Outlanders from seeking out and bargaining for wonderful items.
The Norgonie were content to offer what they had, in return for the goods brought by the Nomads. First came Itarian steel, the Outlands were covered in the wreckage of fallen Lightships, there were very few wrecked, Off-World crafts in the Woodlands. Most of them, had already been picked clean by the Norgonie, leaving very little usable material. The forest people needed lots of steel, they used it for many purposes, weapons, utilitarian items and to make repairs on their pumping systems. They also needed the strong metal to replace aged support beams, shoring up their fortress walls and buildings, to keep them strong. Knowing this, the Nomads collected vast amounts of steel before entering the land of the Forest-dwellers. Now they used it to trade for goods they wanted.
It was not just metal that was precious, shells from the Western Sea, were much sought after by the forest women, to use in jewelry. There were also herbs that grew only in the Outlands, cloth from the people of the pyramid cities, carvings, pottery, gold, silver cups and trinkets. Roots used for making tea, and ground up for spice, great bags of Kasha-wheat for making bread, and tiny pouches of the rarest incense. All manner of things were traded, there were always new items, to catch the fancy of a man or woman in the trading stalls of the Norgonie.
The one thing that they did not offer was Grana, for the people of the forest did not consume the precious salt. This was of little concern to Anais and Kela, they had come to find a Sagar tooth necklace, to fulfill the promise of the blind Prince. It did not take them long, to find exactly what they were looking for.
They found a well-stocked trading stall, run by a rather large man with a fat belly. He was not handsome of face and most would call him ugly, but he was a shrewd merchant and knew how to get the most for what he had. He pretended to listen carefully to the man and young woman, in front of him, he was certain that he would make the better trade.
“We will trade you two fine bracelets of pink shells for one necklace,” said Anais to the Norgonie trader, who shook his head.
“Do you think me a fool?” replied the man, “a necklace of this quality is worth five shell bracelets and a Rimar horn if not more”.
The Norgonie was quite right in saying what he did, but he made the mistake of not recognizing the man who was bargaining with him. It had been a long time since he had seen him, the Nomad kept most of his face covered by a hooded robe. Anais pulled back his head covering to show his face to the forest trader.
“You are still good at bargaining Kor”, the blind Prince said with a smile.
Kor was indeed the trader’s name, when he saw to whom he was speaking, his demeanor changed quite abruptly.
“Oh it's you”, he said with a stammer, “I thought you were....”
“Dead?” added the Prince.
The jewelry trader, had heard that Anais had died in the war with the Talsonar, this had made him content for he had dealings with the Prince in the past. Those dealings were better forgotten, now he could see that the stories were false, an older but quite live Anais, now stood before him. Thinking for a moment more, he decided that two fine pink shell necklaces was enough.
“I have thought the matter over and
I will trade”, he said with a half-smile.
Anais smiled at the old friend, then turned to Kela, who had been standing silently beside him, “is the necklace to your liking?” he asked.
There was really no need to ask, the teeth were of the highest quality and attached to each other with many finely woven strands of gold and silver wire. There were also several precious stones set with more gold, the attaching mechanism was a marvel of workmanship.
The Handmaiden smiled, “yes, very much”.
“Done”, said the Prince. He waited while Kela handed the shell bracelets to the merchant, when it was done, he turned to Kor once more. “Give my regards to your lovely mate”, he said with a slight laugh, then they left the trading stall.
They moved only a few steps away, when Kela asked the Prince, “how did you make the man take your offer, it was not a good trade for him at all?”
To this Anais laughed, “many cycles ago, I had the pleasure of being a intermediary between him and two young maidens of our tribe. He wished to spend the night with them and they wished his jewelry, so I arranged it for him”.
The young Handmaiden knew, it was not something that a Prince of the Madrigal should be involved in, why would the merchant care if his indiscretions were known? Then she heard loud yelling behind her, she turned to see the fat merchant being screamed at by an even larger Norgonie female. Watching, she realized that the man would have paid any price to keep his secret from his domineering mate.
Endo had watched his father rush to the side of his mother, although he wanted to run to her side also, he knew that it was far too dangerous. So he held back his anger, sitting alone beside the Washa fire, trying not to think. He was no longer a scavenger of the Outlands, content to hunt for food and live out his life without knowledge or feeling for another kind.
What if she dies? He thought, it caused his heart pain, to think of the woman who had born him on her back, and fed him with her blood, no longer alive. Then something else crossed his mind; what will happen to me when my father is gone? He knew his father was old and even with the added years that consuming Grana would bring him, the cycles would eventually catch up with him, and he too would die. I will be alone then; being alone, was for him, far worse than any another fate, he could no longer live with his kind and he would never be truly accepted by the Nomads. He was a creature without a tribe, without a future. As he sat dreaming of a world, where he could walk without hiding his face, something on the wind drew him back to where he was now. He lifted his head and sniffed the air with his sensitive nose.
That smell; he thought; the one from the cave, it has returned; it was indeed the odor that had drawn him away before and it seemed much stronger to him. Before he knew what was happening, he rose from his seat and began to follow the beckoning fragrance.
Osh had given up struggling, the hands that held him, were far too strong and he resigned himself to his fate. He knew that his kidnappers were not interested in killing him, if that was the case, they would have done it earlier and not carried him off. On the other hand, they might want to wait and dispose of him in some ghastly way, to appease some God or another. They might simply have made a mistake, and it was some other old man, they had mistaken him for. Now as he was being carried, he started to calculate how many, different scenarios there might be, in which he should be carried off. Before he had formulated more than two dozen or more, he was set down and the robe removed from his head.
He kept his eyes closed for a moment or two, not wanting to open them to find out what fate was in store for him. Then his curiosity got the better of him and he slowly opened one eye. In the dim light from torches, he realized that he was in a very large room, his attackers had vanished. This encouraged him to opened the other eye and look slowly about the room.
From its great size, he knew he could only be inside the Temple of Arm-Ra. I have been brought here for some reason; he thought, then he remembered the maiden who had her heart cut out; I do not think they would be interested in and old and worn organ like mine. He told himself this, to ease his mind, he knew that religious fanatics would kill young and old alike, if their God commands them. So he decided not to think about such things and turned his attention back to his surroundings.
He was surrounded by stone monoliths that towered over his head, they were carved with writings and inscriptions that he had never seen before. Many of them were cracked and several were broken, large sections of writings were missing. Others were unbroken, they bore strange markings that could only be some kind of mathematical calculation. Others had carvings that defied the mind and would have taken a Trolacian computer to decipher.
It was not only the stone slabs that filled the room, there was also, huge amounts of parchment lying about, or piled high on wooden tables. There were strange machines and ancient mechanisms that the old man had seen before. They lay scattered about the Outlands and were ignored by the Nomads as being useless. With these steel devices, were the reassembled skeletons of the great creatures that once roamed the planet. Now they were extinct, with only their bleached bones to mark that they had ever been here at all.
Seeing all this, Osh smiled, he knew he was standing in one of the great collections of the galaxy. Before he could examine any of the fantastic objects, a voice called out to him.
“Welcome Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion”, it said.
The old man turned, to see the High Priest of the Norgonie, standing before him. He was dressed in an impressive robe but wore no headdress. He could see his wrinkled face clearly now, it reminded him of someone he had seen before. His eyes were dark and piercing and on his forehead he bore a cryptic tattoo.
The Holy Man took a few more steps, then stood before Osh and smiled, “I am called Ormandis, my real name is Vitranius Olandra, I am a Callaxion and very content to meet you”.
Osh stood like he had been struck by lightning, then after a moment he nodded his head at the man, “thank you, and I am also content to meet one of my kind”.
If it had been any other species of human, they would have clasped their arms about each other, and exchanged words of how thankful they were, to meet another of their kind. They would have smiled and made comments, of how long it had been since they had spoken with someone like themselves, and so on and so on. Callaxions were not like other people, they did not show emotions to any great extent and preferred to keep their feelings inside. Still it was easy to see that the two men were very content to meet.
“I am sorry that my servants had to bring you here, like this”, the High Priest said, “ I could not risk anyone, knowing that I wished to speak to you”.
“I understand”, Osh replied, “I am not loved by the Outlanders and I know that the Norgonie are wary of strangers”. There was a pause, then the old man spoke again, “forgive me for asking, there once was a Callaxion whose name was also Olandra, why have you taken his name?”
The Holy Man smiled, “because I am that man”.
Hearing this made Osh shake his large head, “that cannot be, Olandra died a very long time before I was hatched”.
Now it was the High Priests time to smile, “never the less that man is me”, motioning to his brethren, they began to walk, as they did, the Holy Man continued to speak. “I can understand your confusion, so I will endeavor to explain, in my time I was a great scholar and my fame had spread across the Outer Rim until every civilized planet knew my name. I was awarded medals and accolades until my chest was no longer able to bear them. When I grew tired of the fame, I sought to find a place where I could seek more understanding, and live out the rest of my life in peace”.
As the Holy Man spoke, they moved out of the great hall and into a long corridor, filled with even more wondrous objects and stone writings.
“So I decided that the one place that held the most secrets, was the planet known as Gorn. At that time very little was known about this strange place, where technologies are useless and few people ever escaped from it. It was the
n that I disappeared and let the Outer Rim believe I was dead. I piloted a small lightship, landed it on this world and then began to explore”.
It was then that Osh began to ask questions. “ How did you survive alone against the perils of the Outlands, surely you should have been killed?”
They stopped walking for a moment and stood beside the large skull of some long dead creature.
“That is a long and rather fascinating story, let me just say I was rescued by the Norgonie and taken into their tribe. After a time I was made a priest of Arm-Ra and eventually became their High Priest, it was at that time I began my real work”.
“What is that?” asked Osh.
Vitranius looked deep into the eyes of his companion, “To understand the hidden secrets of this world and become the wisest of all Callaxions”.
Endo once again, followed the scent to the cave in the corner of the Fortress, as before there were warriors guarding the entrance, along with several Drogs. He knew it would be certain death, to try to move past those guardians. So he tried to think of another way into the tunnel, to solve the mystery of the beckoning odor. He thought of several scenarios, all of them unworkable. Then fate intervened and he found an answer coming towards him.
The huge steel Karack, the Norgonie had used to fill with Eul, was returning to the tunnel. It was now empty of the burning rock, before he could think his plan through, his need to follow the scent overcame his good judgment. He ran quickly to the great wagon, climbed up the side and into the open container, before anyone could see him. He sat motionless, as the Karack moved into the darkened tunnel, and into a world of which he had no knowledge.
Osh followed Vitranius through the corridor and into a smaller chamber, it one was filled with more carved stones and collections of bone, from many, different animals. Alongside what looked like the remains of Nomads. They were all cleaned, and arranged in a manner that mimicked their activities in real life, some even had fragments of their bodies, preserved in glass containers. Glass was something that was hardly used by the Outlanders, it was too fragile a substance to withstand the rigor’s of a Nomads life, therefore it was not of much value. Seeing so many large specimens, preserved in such a way, made Osh wonder how many other things, lay waiting to be discovered.
He sat at a small table, listening to the words of his brethren, as he continued to explain his presence on Gorn.
“When I heard that there was a man with great knowledge, traveling with the Outlanders. One without nails on his fingers, who possessed a hole in the side of his head, I knew it must be one of my kind”. Saying this, the High Priest turned his large head to one side, exposing the very same import devise that allowed Callaxions to interface with Outer Rim computers. “I waited until you came into the land of the Norgonie, then sent for you. Now together, we can reveal all the power of this planet and use it as we wish.”
“What power is that?” Osh asked, as if he did not know. Inside he knew what the Holy Man was talking about, the creature that lives deep under the earth. The one that once spoken to his mind, to tell him, how the Nomads came to be. Does he know what I know? He thought; has the creature spoken to him as well?
Vitranius leaned over the table and smiled, “you know of what I speak, there is a great power that lives within this world, a creature that keeps it safe from outsiders and even speaks to some in dreams. I am certain that if we find the right information it can speak to us”.
He does not speak with the entity; the old man thought; the creature has kept its secrets from him; not wanting to reveal his past, Osh nodded his head, “yes that would be a wonderful thing”.
The High Priest, took up a large silver container sitting on the table, he filled two gold cups with its contents. There was a silver box that he opened, he put his thin nailless fingers into it, he took out a pinch of some crystal substance, and put it into one of the cups. When he was done, he handed the one without the crystals to his companion. “I am sure there are many questions that you want to ask me, ask now, and I will try to answer them”.
Osh did indeed have many questions. “Very well, how have you remained alive all this time?”
The Holy Man smiled, “a very good question”, he took a sip of his wine, “you know that the Outlanders consume a substance called Grana?”
“Yes, they must eat it or become sick with the plague that infects all creatures on Gorn.”
“That is true, have you wondered why the Norgonie, do not partake of the green salt?” The High Priest asked.
It was a mystery how the forest people remained healthy, without trading for the precious salt. One to which, Osh dearly wished he had an answer. “Yes I have wondered about that.”
Vitranius leaned back in his chair, “the Norgonie do not need the salt because they eat the Trocas”.
The Callaxion knew that the Norgonie, ate the forest caterpillar like insect, he did not understand why. He had once tasted the green and brown crawler, and it was vile.
“The Troca’s? What have they got to do with the plague?”
The Holy Man grinned, “the Troca’s burrow into the earth and eat the minerals deep underground. They return to the surface to breed, their bodies still have traces of Grana, eating them gives the Norgonie immunity”.
Osh was feeling a bit embarrassed by the simple explanation, still it did not explain the long life of the Holy Man. Vitranius continued.
“When the Nomads rebirth some of them parish in the process, their bodies turn to ash. It is the substance that they call crystal Grana or Tran that as kept me from dying. It has given me the strength to carry on my work”. He lifted his drinking cup, and Osh suddenly realized that the crystal substance he had put into his wine, was indeed Tran.
Osh knew of Tran, it was extremely rare and never used by the Nomads, their laws forbid it. “You know that the crystal, is forbidden by the Book of Isarie?”
The Holy Man chuckled at hearing this, “yes, I made sure of that”.
Osh put down his cup, and looked at the ancient Callaxion. “Please clarify what you meant, when you said, you made sure of that?” he asked.
Again the High Priest laughed, “I said that, because I wrote the Book of Isarie”.
The Old man did not speak, when he heard Vitranius say this, he just sat back in his chair, and continued to listen to the soft laughter.
The Great Karack of the Norgonie, continued down the darkened tunnel, with Endo hidden in the back. It was a bumpy ride, not any worse, than when he had driven his father’s wagon over the rough terrain of the Outlands. At that time, he knew where he was going and why, now he was trapped and heading into the earth, without a plan for getting out. He did know that he was heading in a generally eastern direction, his Sandjar instincts told him that. He also knew that he was heading downward and that caused him fear.
I should not have come; he thought, then the odor that he had been forced to follow, once more filled his nostrils and he forgot his fears.
The tunnel was lit by a series of lamps, fixed to the walls, they burned the same Eul that gave light to Washa’s of the Outlanders. The huge steel box that Endo was now riding in, had once been full of Eul. The bottom of the wagon, had a layer of dust and fragments of Eul, with the constant bumping it now covered Endo's face and hands. His once clean robe was now filthy, with the black substance. It mattered little to Endo, he concentrated on the enticing aroma that was now becoming stronger and stronger. With each passing moment, he seemed to be falling deeper and deeper, into a wonderful a place where all his dreams would come true.
It would turn out to be, much different.
Osh tried to tell himself that he had misunderstood the words that he had just heard from Vitranius. Being a Callaxion and never being able to forget anything, he knew that he had indeed heard correctly. Never-the-less, he asked the same question once more.
“You said, you wrote the Book of Isarie?”
The Holy Man took a long drink of his wine, then smiled at his compan
ion. “Yes, I did.” There was a slight pause, then more words came. “Well I might have exaggerated some, so let me clarify that statement. When I first came here, I found that the Norgonie had a series of scrolls. Crude writings if you will, all relating to their so called religion. They were mostly based on ancient stories and legends, handed down from generation to generation. I simply put them into a collated book form and pronounced it the work of their God”.
Osh nodded his head, “yes that would explain the beliefs of the forest people. What about the Outlanders?”
“That was done in much the same manner, the Nomads believed in a different God to the Norgonie, a female deity called Isarie. I also took their writings and stories and put that in a book for them. It was then quite easy to add a few more things, to make them truly believe that it was the voice of their God speaking to them”.
“A few more things?” the old man asked.
“Yes, in order, to have people believe, you must connect them to things that have happened in their lives, birth, death, mystic visions. Search your memory, I am sure you will find evidence to what I say.”
It only took a few moments, for Osh to look into his inner mind, before he found what he was searching for. Legends and Gods of the Outer Worlds, by Garramandy Leetrano, professor of religion and reality at the school for Minds, Brinata Seven. Chapter eight to twelve, Isarie the Merciful, and there was more. Belief and the power of faith, by Nomora Kan, history of worship and sacrifice in the belief of a higher being. There was a vast amount of information stored in his sub-mind, also there was no need to look further, for he knew that Vitranius spoke the truth. So, he let the Holy Man continue.
“You know that the Outlanders and the Norgonie, sometimes have dreams that come true?”
Again Osh nodded his head, “yes I have heard this”; I am not going to tell him that I have had such dreams.
Both of them knew that Callaxions never dreamt, their minds are too well organized, to allow random images to intrude upon them, even in their sleep.
“I took those dreams and added them to their holy book, with the understanding that the Outlanders would be better controlled that way”.
Osh thought this over for a moment, although he did not want to, he believed everything the High Priest said. It was a much more rational explanation than, believing that the Holy Book, was given to them by a Goddess. He also knew that his mind had spoken with the creature that the Nomads called Isarie, it was a kind and gentle being, unless he was mistaken?
Vitranius has great knowledge; he thought; I must find out how much. “What do you know about the creature?” he asked.
The Holy Man could see that he was drawing Osh closer into his plan; he wants to know what I know, he is exactly what I need. “The entity that I have named the Guardian, was created in the laboratories of the Overlords”.
“The Overlords?”
Again the High Priest laughed. “Perhaps I should start at the beginning”.
“Yes that would be the best way”, Osh like all Callaxions, was eager to obtain knowledge, it was a part of what they were, it was their life. Their species were genetically structured, to interface with the powerful Tollacian computers of the Outer Rim, the most advanced mechanisms ever conceived, to store, file and to transfer, all the information that was ever made. Callaxions programmed them, it was therefore unthinkable that Osh would refuse to listen to the Holy Man, as he spoke to him. So he took a small sip of his wine, and waited quietly for the answers, to fill his eager mind.
Vitranius could see that he held his brethren in his hand, knowing this, made his tired heart beat like he was young once more. He is mine; he thought; I will use him to get what I want, and when I am done, he will be disposed of. What his mind was thinking, did not show on the High Priest's face. He had long been able to keep his thoughts to himself. It was one of the things that all speakers of the Gods had to learn, and he had been that voice for a great many cycles.
He took another sip of his wine, then continued to weave his plan into the mind of the old man. “Long before the first Gathering, before the planets of the Outer Rim touched one another, there was a race of beings so powerful that they worshiped themselves!”
Nomads The Fallen God Page 24