Nomads The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 25. Death's Shadow

  The flower that the Nomads call the Death Shadow, is much like the hallucinogenic plants that can be found throughout the Outer Rim. Its potency is much greater, than anything I have seen before. Although it has great potential as a healing compound, the Outlanders do not use it for it is forbidden by their laws and seen as a gateway into madness.

  From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.

  Arn had stayed by his mate's bedside, all through the day and long into the night. When he closed his eyes, his dreams were troubled and he could find no rest. As the morning suns rose, he looked into the face of his love. The soft sunlight flowed into the tent, a golden shaft of light, illuminated Andra's features. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, only the cloth bandage around her head, showed she was waiting for the Angle of Death.

  Arn had seen the bringer of death before, he knew that if the she demon came for his mate, he would fight. I will not let her go; he told his weary mind; I will fight all the demons from the pit. All through his time guarding her, he had held onto his war-ax. He would not let it, from his hand; I will die for her; he tightened his grip on the weapon.

  As he sat grieving for Moonbud, the flap on the tent opened, and in walked a Touchtender, her name was Omara, she had been a healer of the tribe for a great many years. She was a big woman with strong arms and a pleasing face, but it was not wise to make her angry. She had treated the Kings wounds, when he was still a Prince. She held a large silver bowl, along with several clean rags, “I have come to wash Andra”, she said.

  The King did not look at her, he waved his hand angrily, “GET OUT! Leave us alone”, he shouted.

  Any other member of the tribe would have turned and walked away, Omara was not going to be turned from her task so easily. “Now you listen to me you little Rockrunner”, she shouted back. “I have work to do, and I do not want you getting in my way.” After saying this, she moved between the King and Andra, proceeding to remove the soft blanket that was covering the young woman. When she saw that he was still close by, she shot him a glance that would have frightened a Whiptail. Arn saw that the commanding healer outmatched him, so he nodded his head. Taking his helmet and weapon, he walked slowly from the tent.

  Outside, the air was fresh, smelling of morning dew mixed with the scent of blossoming flowers. When the warriors were guarding the tent, saw the King emerge, they stood up straight, as the Monarch passed by, they bowed their heads in respect.

  Arn knew that his mate was in very capable hands, so he thought it was best, to walk through the camp, to see that all was, as it should be. He walked past more warriors, who also bowed their heads, when he went past the Elders, they too nodded. Now everywhere he went, the people of his tribe bowed. The King knew it was not only from respect, but also to show their sadness for the injury to the Off-world woman. They had come to love her, as much as one of their own. Arn did not speak as he walked and although it had been a long time since he had eaten he was not hungry. When he passed by the Spikebacks, his old friend Kuno called out to him.

  “Come, I have two cups of Po”, he laughed, “and I can drink only one at a time”.

  Kuno was sitting by his Washa fire, surrounded by the supplies needed for the Spikebacks. He was dressed in his armor and it appeared that he had spent the night in it.

  Even though the King knew that the big warrior could drink several tankards of sour wine without help, he walked over to him and took the cup that was offered.

  “Thank you my old friend”, he said, then he drank the contents of the cup, in one long draft.

  The Po was well-aged, and when Arn had finished, he was glad that he had accepted the offer from the Captain. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sat down on a crate of long-range weapon ammunition, “do you have any more wine to drink?” he asked.

  Kuno knew this to be a joke, no one, had ever known the big Nomad, to be without wine. Laughing the Captain reached for a large vessel sitting near him and poured out to more servings of the sour drink. “Here”, he said, “and when you finish that, there will be many more to follow.” Then he sat down on another crate near the King.

  For a while they did not speak, letting the wine warm their bellies. Kuno could see that his friend had not slept that night. His mind had been filled with worry about his mate, since they came back from the hunt. After a time, the Captain spoke, “she is strong”, he said softly, “she will survive”.

  They were encouraging words, ones that the King needed to hear, whether they were true or not, he did not know. Kuno is a good man; he thought; but he is not a Star Gazer and cannot see the future. The King rose from his seat, handing his empty cup back to his friend, “thank you for the wine, now I must go”. Arn turned and slowly walked away.

  The Captain watched him go; he has a good woman, and they are hard to find. Hearing his mind say this, made the big Nomad think hard. It was something that he did not like doing, and he had to admit that he had treated Balru very badly. You give out advice but do not take your own; so fortifying his courage with another cup of Po, he set off to rectify his mistake.

  Arn walked for some time, he moved past the Ironworkers, who were busy at their forges, as he passed them, he heard the, “CLANK, CLANK”, of their beating hammers.

  The Gods beat us like hot steel; he thought; they mold us to their liking and if we break they can make more.

  He continued to walk onward, past the Holy wagon of his mother, as he looked at the Thungodra warriors, surrounding their mistress, he again talked to his mind. My mother now bathes in the warmth of Isarie, I have nothing to comfort me.

  As he passed Anais' tent, he saw his blind brother standing outside; my brother was punished for his sins, what has Moonbud done to offend the Gods?

  It could have been argued that Andra was not a true Outlander and therefore not deserving of the Goddess’s mercy. It could also be said that she had fought as hard as anyone, in defense of her tribe. Doing so would be enough, to have the Gods smile on her. Without her help the Talsonar would have defeated us.

  These questions and more, continued to plague the King's thoughts as he walked. Before he knew it, he was standing by the Northern Gate of the Fortress. There were several big Norgonie at the entrance with their Drogs. This did not stop the Outlander, from demanding they open the huge doors.

  “I am Arn, King of the Madrigal, let me pass!” For a moment the guards did not move. The Nomad Monarch, thought he would have to fight his way out of the fortress, as he lifted his ax, a voice called out from behind him.

  “Do as he says”, the voice said.

  Arn turned, to see Ishea coming towards him, she had watched his tent from her tower, and when she saw him march out, she decided to walk with him. She was dressed in from fitting armor, on her head, she wore a short helmet with Sagar cat claws about its brim. The green and brown camouflage stripping, did not mark her face and body. She did however, carry her Kagar and there was a long dagger in her wide belt.

  With a loud grinding sound, the large doors began to open, and like the other fortress entrances, it was moved by the power of steam. As it rotated on its two shafts, there was a bellowing of hot gas that filled the air with a white mist. When the entrance was open, the King walked out and over the bridge covering the moat, followed by the Norgonie Queen.

  They did not speak as they walked, each one could feel what the other was thinking.

  It was Ishea’s fault for challenging her; the King thought; she knew she would be hurt.

  At the same time, Ishea was also talking to her mind; he is blaming me for what happen to the half-soul; she heard herself say; there is no place for the weak here.

  They continued to walk in silence, as they ventured into the woodlands. All about them, were the great trees, cradled in their huge branches, were the tree top homes of the Norgonie. Nestled high in the branches, they would be safe from hungry predators prowling the ground. Using the many walkways and stairs,
they were able to move about freely. For those below, it was a dangerous place, without warriors or the added strength of a Rowgor, the King and Queen, were vulnerable to the many dangers of the Caltarine forests.

  None of this mattered to Arn, he wanted to get as far away from his people as he could, it was not because he didn't care for them, or for his mate. On the contrary, he was being drowned by caring, just a short time, he wished to be free of all his troubles, to become one with his surroundings.

  He was not alone, every step he took, was shadowed by his former love. He tried not to think of her and emptied his mind of all thoughts. He could not, try as he might, he could still hear her footfalls and the scent of her hair, carried on the wind. When the Fortress could no longer be seen, he turned to look into her face.

  “Why do you walk in my shadow?” he asked.

  The Norgonie queen moved close to him, so that she could see clearly into his dark eyes. “Have you forgotten that I once walked by your side?” she said. She looked about her, “do you remember this path?” she asked softly, “it is the way to the Place of Dreams”.

  Arn shook his head, “no I have not forgotten”, he replied, “I was going there when I left the fortress”.

  He turned and began walking once more, Ishea moved to his side.

  For a while, they did not speak, they continued further into the dark woods, the stone path that they followed was worn and broken with age. There were great twisted roots, jutting up through the cracked flagstones. In the dim light they seemed like monstrous snakes, eager to wrap their bodies around careless intruders and crush the life out of them. On either side of the ancient road, were huge stone columns and massive statues, carved in the likeness of the Gods. Now and then, some fallen temple or fortification, could be seen crumbling in the green embrace of the woodlands. The wild cries of animals could always be heard, and the screams of hungry Sagar cats.

  Dangerous as it was, the two warriors continued deeper into the forest, soon the path that they followed vanished, and they walked onto a narrow trail. The columns ended, all that was left to mark any sign of civilization, was the faint indentation of feet that had once come this way. Soon a sound began to rise up, it was not the howling of some dark creature, rather the pounding of water on rock. They passed through a stone gateway, carved like the open mouth of some giant, and as the two Nomads moved through, and out of the great head, they saw a place that carried strong memories.

  It was known as Innoco Imora, the Wailing Water, here it was said, the tears of the Gods flowed, and to look at it, one could believe that the ancient story was true. Before them, lay a large pool of crystal clear water, and several thundering waterfalls. They seemed to emerge, from the solid rock that surrounded it. If one looked closer, it was clear that the rocks were not made by nature. They seemed to have been placed there, by some power beyond the knowledge of the Nomads. In size they were as large as the Holy Mother's wagon, their surface although worn with age, still bore carvings and inscriptions. Along with the great stones, one could see what looked like the remains of a statue. If you were a Norgonie, you would know it was the likeness of Arm-Ra himself.

  What caught the eye more than the water and the huge stones, was the great mass of white flowers that hung from long vines, they seemed to cover anything in their path. They were as large as a hand and had five petals that radiated out from a central bud, whose color was a deep red. The vines that they grew from, were filled with sharp thorns, they bore a strong resemblance to the deadly Moonbud of the Outlands. Unlike that species, these would not kill if touched, even the smallest of the Norgonie, knew by what name they were called.

  The Death Shadow.

  And all warriors knew their song.

  The Death Shadow grows in day or night.

  A Flower of Dreams and pleasing of sight.

  Its Fragrance of lust has pleasure there in.

  Eat not of the petals to forget all sin.

  All pain forgotten all hopes forgone.

  Eat not of the petals least you become

  A rider of death and demon spawn.

  Arn and Ishea walked to the edge of the pool, they stood for a moment, listening to the pounding water. The mist that rose off the rocks, mixed with the scent of the white flowers, filling the air with a sweet intoxicating odor. It seemed to reach into the body and soul, filling it with a gentle calmness, taking away all cares and leaving only a desire to remain, to seek nothing more.

  The Norgonie Queen stood beside Arn for a time, letting the sounds and smells fill her heart. She slowly turned to the man she once called mate, and spoke to him in a soft loving voice. “Why did you lie to me?” she asked.

  Arn did not speak for a moment or two, when he did his words were gentle, “I did not lie to you”. Even as he said those words, he knew that he had indeed, lied. I did not want to break my word, I had no choice.

  As he looked into her emerald eyes, old feeling began to rise, feelings that he thought were long forgotten, he drove them down once more. I will not betray Andra, I will not! He turned away so that he would not be tempted.

  Ishea heard the King's words and her response came quickly. “Look around you, it was here that I first lay with you, it was here that I gave my body and my heart to you, and it was here that you promised, never to leave me.” For a long moment, they listened to the sounds of the water, and the beating of their hearts. The Warrior Queen, looked into the eyes of the man she once loved, “did I mean so little to you?”

  Arn turned to face her, looking into her eyes, “you were my world, your desire was to become Queen after your mother, and my destiny was to be King after my father. Our fates could not be broken”.

  “Was it so wrong that I wished to lead my people?” she said angrily.

  “No” the King replied, shaking his head. “ I could not remain behind, when my tribe returned to the Outlands. I was raised, to be their leader, I could not abandon them, no matter how much I longed to stay.”

  “Those, were not the words you spoke back then”, she said.

  The King could see tears beginning to form in those beckoning green eyes, “we were children, we were slaves of our desires, nothing more”.

  Ishea put her hand into a small carry pouch, hanging from her belt. When she withdrew it, she held the pink seashell from her bed. She looked at it for a moment, then held it up for the Nomad to see, “you gave me this, saying that you would take me to the sea. There we would hunt leviathans and sail to the ends of Gorn, was that yet another lie?”

  Arn did not look at her; “we were young and foolish”.

  Hearing Arn dismiss her eternal love, as just the shallow lust of a silly maiden, made the Queen strike out in a rage. She threw the shell high in the air, falling into the crystal water, it quickly disappeared into the depths. She lifted her Kagar and swung it in an ark, aiming at the King's neck. It was only by a lightning fast movement of his body that Arn saved his life. Before he could think, Ishea struck again, this time she leapt high in the air, kicking out with her foot, she hit the Nomad full in the chest. The King fell backwards, striking his head on a rock. His helmet, saved him from injury, then as the warrior woman moved for him again, he swung out his weapon, catching the shaft of her spear, on the edge of his ax. Any other type wood, would have splintered, Kagars are made from the limbs of Balbar trees, a wood is almost as strong, as Itarian steel.

  Now the fighting madness was upon them both, all thoughts of mercy or forgiveness, vanished in a red mist of death and destruction. All they understood was killing the person in front of them, it did not matter if they were friends of had once loved each other, all they saw, was an enemy, an enemy that MUST be killed!

  Arn swung his heavy ax at the woman's right side, hoping to break through her defenses and cut her in two. Ishea, quickly moved aside, his weapon finding only empty air. Now it was the Queen's turn to strike. Seeing that he was off balance, she kicked out, managing to bend his knee enough, for her to drive her spear into his
thigh. The force of the blow pierced his armor, the Kagar point digging into the King's flesh. He grabbed the spear shaft, pulling it out, before more damage could be done. Now Arn was bleeding, seeing that her rival was wounded, gave the Queen more courage. She threw down her weapon and drew her dagger, she leaped upon her enemy, clawing and ripping at him, like a big, cat. She pulled off his helmet, her dagger, could not penetrate the thick steel, protecting his chest. He in turn broke the straps, holding her breastplate, it fell away, leaving her naked, from the waist up, still they continued to fight. The superior strength of the Nomad, could not be overcome, holding her weapon hand, he pulled her off. Then grabbing her around the middle, he lifted her over his head, he readied himself, to fling her into the water below.

  Ishea would not be beaten so easily, as she was being lifted, she grasped the King's arm, when he let her go, she pulled him with her. Unable to stop his forward momentum, Arn was carried along with the Queen into the pool, there was a great splash as they hit the water. When both of them returned to the surface, the death madness that had overtaken them, melted away. They made their way to the edge of the water, then pulled themselves up onto the dry bank, There they lay panting for air.

  Although the Queen's battle blindness had gone, her heart was still filled with anger. After a moment of rest, she rose up, falling upon the Nomad once more. She had no weapon now, so she used her teeth, to bite into his neck. Arn grabbed her head, then pulled her off, rolling over, he pinned her to the ground with the weight of his body. For a moment they lay there, fighting each other with tooth and claw. Like two wounded animals, each wishing to rip the other to death. After the greater part of their strength was spent, their bodies streaming blood they stopped. There was no longer rage in their minds, it had been replaced by another emotion.

  Lust.

  The battle had let loose old feelings, feelings that were better left hidden, anger, rage, betrayal. It also freed something that they had always known was lurking inside.

  Love.

  Now that emotion was free. Free to take hold of them, and carry them off to a place, they knew long ago. Surrounded by the forbidden flower of the Gods, they let their heated bodies entwine, forgetting all time and space.

  Deep in the darkness of the earth, there were to others, who the Gods had fated to come together.

  After being acclaimed, “Coraw”, or leader by the Sandjar, Endo searched for the young female, whose name he did not know. He looked everywhere for her, then, when he had almost given up all hope, he saw her, huddling in a small crevasse in the great chamber. He knew that the last time he saw her, he made the mistake of speaking in the language of the Outlanders. Hearing this, she became frightened, none of her people, used that tongue to communicate. So not wanting to make the same mistake, he moved slowly towards her, his head down and his hands behind his back. It was a common gesture amongst the Scavengers, holding up clawed fingers, meant that you wanted to fight. Slowly, he moved nearer to her, making soft “purring” sounds, pleasing to the ear. When he was close, he sat down beside her, he did not look at her, he sat that way for a long time. Then he reached into his torn robe, withdrawing a small chunk of meat that he had taken from the feeding bins. Carefully, he laid the bit of spoiled flesh, by her side, he continued to look in a different direction, still making the gentle noise.

  To an Outsider, all this would seem very strange, to a Sandjar it was perfectly clear, they relied more on body gesture, than words. There was no better way, to show that he wanted to be friends, than to offer the female, precious food. The green female on the other hand, was still very cautious, she poked her small head, out of her hiding place, long enough to see the meat laying on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Endo could see she was still wary, he did not make any further moves, continuing to look away, and hum.

  Do not frighten her; he thought; she has known only pain.

  As he continued to wait, he heard a stirring, risking a look, he saw her reach out, to take the morsel of food. Slowly she pulled it towards her, then quickly stuffed the meat into her mouth. There was a chewing sound, then something the young boy had not expected. His tiny ears began to hear, a purring sound, coming from the small cave. Endo knew this was a good sign, he slowly turned his head, so that he could look at her. She was still curled up in her dirty home, and to the boy, she seemed a pitiful sight.

  It was not her fault that her life has become so; he heard his mind say; and it is not the will of the Gods; hearing his mind say this, his hatred for the Norgonie became even greater. As vengeance swelled in his mind, something caused him to pause, it was the same thing that had drawn him into the underworld. The same thing that had overridden his better judgment, compelling him to attack the big Sandjar.

  The scent; he realized; it was coming from the female.

  This was something he already knew, his father had schooled him well, in the reproductive ways of his people. Being this close to the cause of his erratic behavior, made him forget everything.

  Surely it was not this particular female that had filled the air of the fortress, with the intoxicating aroma. There must be others in the great cave, also emitting the pheromone. That did not matter to Endo, all he knew or cared about, was the small green female before him. Relying on his instincts, he moved slowly forward, all the while making the same soft sounds.

  At first, the female started to move further back into her hiding place, then she stopped and looked at the young Sandjar. Seeing that he meant her no harm, she slowly put out her hand to him, she tilted her head to one side. Endo took this as a good sign, he put out his hand also, being careful not to show his powerful claws. Little by little, he moved closer to her, until he was sitting at her side.

  He sat there for a time, letting the female know that he was not going to hurt her. Then he pointed to himself and spoke in a low voice.

  “Endo”, he said softly, then he pointed to her, she did not speak, so again he gestured, “Endo”, again there was no reply. Then he remembered something he had forgotten, females of the Sandjar do not have no names. Then he remembered the words of his father.

  The Sandjar do not consider females to be of any great value, other than for reproduction, so they do not give them names, simply referring to them as, “female”.

  Endo was educated but he did not want to refer to her simply as, “female”. So he searched his mind for a name, finally deciding on Rawna, which in the language of the Outlands, means “emerald”. To the young Sandjar, it seemed a perfect name, she was greenish in color and he had found her in the earth, most of all she was of great value to him.

  “Rawna” he said pointing to her, then after a moment, he said the word again.

  The small female tilted her head to one side again, in her eyes, was a questioning look. After she heard the word, “Rawna”, several more times, she finally understood what her benefactor, was trying to do. A smile, suddenly came to her face and she nodded her head.

  “Rawna”, she said pointing to herself.

  Hearing that she understood, also brought a smile to the boy, he nodded. “Yes, you are Rawna.” This time when he spoke, she was not frightened, seeing this, Endo put his hand on her slim shoulder. “You are Rawna, a jewel of great price.”

  The air filled with the sweet perfume of acceptance, the Sandjar male took his female into his arms, in the darkness of the great cave, they found light.

  There were two more who lay in each other arms, it could not be called love, by the strict definition of that word. Kuno and Balru were more concerned with the mating of their bodies, than the intertwining of their hearts. Who can say, if the Gods truly had love in their minds, when they created male and female. Perhaps, they were just playing games with those that did not live in the stars. Legend says that Shawcona, loved the war God, Atos, so much that she tore out her heart flinging it to the ground, when he did not return her affections. It was also said that the great Goddess Isarie, has love for all things that live. Why then,
does lust sometimes turn the heart away from those we cherish, to seek comfort in the arms of those we do not love?

  There are many wise men and women, among the tribes of the Outlanders and Norgonie. For all their wisdom, they cannot offer an answer to that question. When they are asked, they simply say that Love and Lust are horns on the same Trofar and leave it at that.