Chapter 44. The Fires of Doom
In the beginning the universe was cold and without warmth, and Isarie sat beneath the stars she looked up at them and smiled.
Seeing that they were beautiful, her heart filled with joy and she stood up and began to dance, around and around, she danced, she lifted her arms to the night sky and let her feet move over the empty land.
Her dance was so great that her toes began to burn and fire became her song.
And now when you look into the flames you will see her dancing there.
Ancient Nomad Story.
The Madrigal and the Norgonie Ironworkers, labored as they had never done before, a powerful enemy was coming, and they knew their weapons must be strong. The Itarian steel, gathered from the Outlands was fashioned into armor, and ax and spear. They beat the metal into helmets, and breastplates, and daggers. They made thick plating for the Whiptails and Rowgors, the great beasts would carry the warriors to battle, and fight with their riders.
The Fortress was made ready too, if necessary, they would make the last stand there. The Nomad's long-range cannons were removed from the Spikebacks, to be placed high on the walls, from there they would spew death, and shake the air with their voices. The Disruptors were also placed on the walls, they did not know, how effective they would be against the approaching metal God.
The Holy Mother, was protected by her loyal Thungodra, the dark armored warriors, keeping their vow, to protect their Mistress. They circled the Moving Shrine, challenging anyone foolish enough to come near.
On the uppermost level of the great wagon, were chanting Handmaidens. They had painted themselves red, and held brazier’s of burning incense. They lifted them up and down calling out for Isarie to save them, and to protect the chosen of the Gods.
Egmar did not show her face, it was said, she was deep in prayer, seeking wisdom from the Holy Book.
The High Priest of the Norgonie, also made himself ready, his temple was sealed up and no one was allowed inside. Chanting and prayers, could be heard emanating from the great pyramid. No one saw the servant of Arm-Ra, they said he was communing with the Great God, and could not be disturbed.
The Elders and children of both tribes, were taken to safety, deep into the fores, where great trees grew. Their hardened roots, could guard them from harm, they sent strong warriors, to protect them from the fierce creatures of the deep woods. Food was plentiful there. The water that flowed from the great pump, now tasted foul and bitter, soon it stopped altogether. As well as bitter water, a noxious gas, rose from the ground. Many said it was an evil omen, and the Pit of Marloon would soon rise up, the Fires of Doom would engulf them all.
In the King's tent there was also much talking, it was not about the air or the coming metal monster, it was about the strange child that the Off-world woman, held in her arms.
“She is not one of us”, Arn said, as he looked into the blue eyes of the infant.
“She is my child and I will care for her”, replied Andra.
Andra and the King were alone in the great tent, Arn had dismissed the Touchtenders so that he could speak plainly. Outside, were the sounds of men and women, gathering up their weapons and preparing for war. Mingled with those sounds, were the cries of Whiptails and roaring Spikebacks. Somehow they knew that soon, they would smell blood in the air, and hear the screams of the dying.
Being a Nomad, the King could feel the killing rage, beginning to rise up inside him. He fought against the urge that would soon take hold.
“War is coming”, he said softly, “will you stand by my side?”
Not that long ago, Andra had made a promise to her mate, to stand by his side, through this world and all the worlds to come. Now she was a mother, her heart was torn between her love for Arn, and her love for her child.
Can I live in two worlds? She asked herself, she looked at the face of the tiny girl in her arms; can I leave her, to stand with the man I love?
For a long time now, the minds of both of them had been linked. What one felt the other knew, as Arn watched his mate holding the strange child, he knew, he should not have asked her to choose between two loves.
“I am a King”, he said, “but sometimes I act like a fool”. He turned and walked away from the woman, who had fought by his side so many times.
Andra watched him go, when she was alone, she felt a great loss deep inside her heart. “I made a promise that I cannot keep”, she said out loud. She did not know why she did this, but when she looked deep into the eyes of her child, she seemed to hear a voice calling out to her.
“You will keep your promise”, it said.
Hearing those strange words, her heart did not ache as much.
To the South of the Fortress, a monster moved, bringing only death and destruction. No creature great or small, could defeat the metal God.
Forest Lopers, Sagar cats, and wild Rowgors, all ran when the huge machine drew near. Great trees fell before the oncoming terror, and the Night-criers and Dawn-callers, rose up into the sky. They flew away, filling the air with their fearful songs.
It moved Northward, following the course towards the Forest-dweller's home. It would kill everyone who dared to challenge it, and the all-powerful God that lived within.
“Maintaining heading at maximum speed”, the Task-robot reported, “repairs have been completed and all stationary and mobile weapons at the ready”.
At first, the Half-man did not reply, he was looking at his metal hands, now covered in blood. At his feet lay the remains of Neelu, the Norgonie girl. If any of the Forest-dwellers could see her now, they would not recognize her. She was a twisted, lifeless mass of flesh and steel, the creature who created her, had also destroyed her. Why, we cannot say, there is an old Nomad wisdom that might have the answer.
“All Gods are jealous Gods”.
Seeing that he had a rival for his power, the Shadowman/God did not wish to share it. He took the cold girl into his arms, then crushed all life from her. With his iron fingers, he picked at the flesh like a fisherman of the Western Sea, picks at a fish on his plate. When he had indulged his curiosity, he stopped.
“Continue on heading, scan for additional mobile weapons”, the Metal God commanded, casting away the remains of the human female, like so much useless trash.
“Understood”, replied the Task-robot.
When the Cybernetic mechanism had been human, he sometimes longed to hold a woman in his arms, but his hatred of all living things, did not allow such weakness into his life. So he remained a man without memories of warm nights, lying in soft arms. Now he was a God and such things seemed so long ago.
What can be gained by such things? he thought; what is this thing that some call love?
His mind now held vast quantities of knowledge, he knew the attack scenarios of the many, different battle fleets, he had once faced. He understood the complex equations for navigating through the corridors of the Outer Rim, he could easily name all the stars of that quadrant, but for all his wisdom, he could not understand the one thing that drives all humans.
Love.
The great machine rumbled onward, gathered up other Galu as it did. They were taken within, to be converted into strong weapons that could fight, whatever enemy their master commanded. They would do so without pain or weakness, or mercy, or fear, their God moved through them, they would never stop.
Love had once been the most important thing to Egmar, now that feeling was no longer in her heart, only a cold wind blew there.
My one true son is coming; she told herself; he is a great God now, and I must sacrifice to him.
She looked about the large chamber, filled with her Handmaidens. She had summoned them to her and they obeyed, all around, were the sacred statues of the Nomad's Gods, some great, some small. All deities, demanded offerings, being the servants of Isarie, and her Chosen People, the Madrigal obeyed this rule, placing bowls, filled with sweet smelling field flowers, and ripe fruit, at the feet of the Gods. They hung n
ecklaces of Gold and Silver, Sagar teeth, Rimar horn and rare jewels, around the statue's necks, they dressed them in the finest fabrics. At other times, they ritually slew Burrow babies, and even Trofar, to satisfy the laws of worship. They even burned the precious Grana, mixed with incense, and chanted as the smoke rose into the sky. They did all this without question, for the Holy Mother told them to do so. Now they waited for her command.
Egmar sat on a golden chair, inlaid with ivory and silver, the chair was rarely used, it could only be sat upon at certain times of the year. The Handmaidens knew that the Holy Mother no longer followed the teachings in the Book of Isarie, all things were possible. They watched at the Holy Mother rose and spoke to them.
“It is written in the Book of Isarie that we shall sacrifice to the Gods”, she said coldly, “now a new God is coming, and we shall do the same for him”. She looked into the faces of her servants, “ we will not offer simple burrow babies or even Grana. No, this God demands more... we shall make an offering of flesh!”
Hearing that the Holy Mother would be giving a human life to the new God, caused a great murmuring within the Handmaidens. That practice had not been carried out since ancient times, an older servant of Isarie called out to her Mistress.
“We cannot give an offering of human flesh”, she said. “It is forbidden by the Goddess.”
There was a nodding of heads, everyone knew it to be true. Egmar also knew the law, she was prepared for opposition.
“It is true, we cannot offer human flesh, but there is one amongst us, who is not of the Chosen, not human.”
Again there was murmuring, the Handmaidens looked at one another, trying to understand the Holy Mother's strange words, then Egmar spoke again.
“There is a child in the King's tent, whose skin is white and whose eyes are those of a demon. She was not born from a mother of the Madrigal, but from the Pit of Marloon!”
Knowing there was indeed a strange child, being tended by a female, who had fallen from the sky, the Handmaidens understood what was being asked of them.
“We shall take the demon child, and give it to the new God”, the Holy Mother continued, “then he will spare our people, and the Goddess will be content”.
The chamber filled with whispers of approval, Egmar turned to look at her dark companion, who was sitting on the arm of her golden chair. She could see its red eyes, glowing with a cold fire, she listened to the rattling of its dripping jaws.
Standing near to his Calaxion brother's bed, Vitranius was far from content.
For many days and nights now, he had waited for Osh to awaken from sleep, all efforts had proved in vain. Ormandis, the High Priest of the Norgonie, had immense power, on a whim, he could have warriors slain, or maidens brought to his bed. He could proclaim an offering of blood to Arm-Ra, or a day of feasting, to the Forest-dwellers, he was a God on earth. The Calaxion, Vitanius, was still just a man, although he had great power, he could not have all his wishes fulfilled. He tried everything he could, he forced Grana mixed with Po, down the old man's throat, still he continued in his coma. Adding to his anger, was the fact that his plans for conquering all of Gorn, and all the Outer Rim, were quickly slipping through his thin fingers.
“I will not have my destiny altered by a weakling!” he shouted. He bent down, with his claw like hand, he struck the wrinkled jaw of his tormentor. Seeing he was acting a fool, he composed himself, and moved away from the bed.
The cell was empty now except for Osh, the monks were busy, preparing for the conflict ahead, and all the Norgonie warriors, were needed at the Fortress walls. There was no one to hear the High Priest's words.
“I will not be defeated!” he shouted.
All around him was knowledge, the wisdom of the Overlords, lay in the writings before him. Enough power to rule an empire of the stars, below his feet, laid a machine that could make him the most powerful creature on the planet, if only he could unlock its secrets. He looked down at the medallion, hanging around his neck, the key that could lay the universe at his feet. As he looked at it, he felt a sudden rage rising up inside him.
“What good is knowledge, if I cannot rule!” He tore the trinket from his body, and threw it to the floor. Without a word, he walked from the room, leaving the old man to slumber in his dreams.
Osh still walked in the universe of his mind, he was content there, all things seemed real. He moved from one time to another, as easily as a Nomad moves over the Outlands. He had been a young programmer, learning the intricate and complex details of powerful Trolacian computers. He saw all his life, moving before his eyes, and he saw what he had become. He spoke with old friends, long dead, he remembered places to which, he had traveled many cycles ago. Time did not matter to him now, he was a being of the stars, and they welcomed him.
He returned to Gorn, and he stood looking down on the green grass of the Sirolian Plains, he felt the warm summer wind on his face.
It is a good place to end my life; he thought, he was about to let his body lift into the air and vanish into the heavens when he suddenly saw a woman approaching him. Who is this coming near? He asked himself.
As she came closer, he saw the woman's face, one he had met before in his dreams. He knew it was the Guardian, coming to speak to him again. He watched as she walked closer, she stood, looking into his eyes.
“Your time has not come”, she said smiling, “you have yet, to save my world”.
“I am an old man”, he said, “and I am tired”.
The woman held her hand out to him and he took it in his. “You will find the strength to save those you love.”
The old man felt warmth, running through his hand and into his arm, it traveled upward until it entered his body. Suddenly, he was filled with a power, one he had never felt before. He looked into the woman's eye, she leaned close to his face, and whispered to him.
“Wake, and save me.”
Osh opened his eyes.
He lay for a moment, trying to understand where he was, after a time, his memory returned to him, and he realized, what had happened, and what must be done. He rose slowly from his bed, wearing his simple robe. He looked around the chamber, then gathering up his strength, he stood, feeling the cold stone floor beneath his naked feet.
He was not sure how long he had been unconscious, he knew it must have been some time. He felt a great thirst, but he did not feel weak. Unknown to him, the Grana given to him by the monks, had sustained his body while he slept. He moved slowly to a table nearby, and found a silver goblet, to his relief, it contained enough Po to quench his thirst. It had been resting for some time, and had entirely lost its aroma and was very sour. It still tasted like the best thing the old man had ever drunk. He felt better now, moving slowly to the chamber door, he tried the handle, to his surprise it was unlocked. He opened it carefully, and was about to walk from the room, when something caught his eye. Laying half hidden under a small mound of ancient scrolls, lay the medallion that once hung from Vitranius' neck. He looked at it, his mind told him, this might prove to be something of consequence; so he picked it up, and placed it around his neck. Checking there were no guards outside his door, the old man left his prison chamber and walked to freedom. There was one thing that troubled his mind.
Why did his jaw ache so?
Near the gates of the Fortress, an army gathered, even the oldest of the Elders, had never seen its like before. Outlander and Norgonie, stood side by side, now they were brothers and sisters, against a common foe.
The Nomads wore their heavy battle armor, this gave much more protection than the plating they wore every day, when camped. They placed thick shielding on their Whiptails, it would protect the vulnerable areas between the front limbs and hindquarters. They also fitted a steel tips, on the long killing claws of their mounts, to give greater penetration. They sharpened their war-axes and daggers, they sang ancient battle songs, to give them courage, they knew many, would not be returning to camp. Finally, they hung the golden Journey-Nail around
their necks, if they fell in battle, it would fix hand to weapon, so they could enter the Golden Hall of Isarie.
The Norgonie did not wear armor, only bits of metal, sewn into battle harnesses. They relied on speed and fighting skill, to keep them from harm. They did however, carry their best Kagars and daggers, they painted their bodies green and brown, to blend into the environment. The huge Rowgors had chainmail blankets, placed over their bodies, plus thick steel plating on their sides. Each of the great beasts, could carry six warriors and extra weapons, with the warriors, raced vicious Drogs. They also wore chain mail on their backs, and flexible plating around their thick necks. They knew, they would soon be tearing into flesh and bone, this made them howl and pull at the leashes, like Demons from the Pit.
Standing atop a high platform, and at the head of their armies, stood Arn and Ishea. They would be the first, to face danger, as did all good King and Queens. They both wore their best, and held their heads high. Their faces showed no fear, being tribal leaders, they needed to show strength.
Arn wore his ancient fighting armor, it had served him well, in the war against the Talsonar. It was colored black, the great horned helmet, giving him the appearance of a fearsome Sand Dragon. Hence the name Moric Kan, the Twin Dragons, given to Arn and Andra, but he was alone, Andra was not by his side, as pledged.
She broke her promise; he told himself, then he remembered the night he lay in the arms of Ishea; and I have broken my vow to her.
Some men of the Outer Rim, might have told themselves that one broken promise erases another, it was not so with the Nomad King. To him a vow, should be unbreakable, to think he would not have to make atonement, just because someone, lied to him, was unacceptable.
I must pay a price; he thought, he looked over at the Norgonie Queen. She wore her finest fighting harness, about her neck, hung a necklace of the finest Sagar cat’s teeth, and her long hair was braided with gold and silver bands. Her strong body, was crisscrossed with green and brown stripping. Around her slim waist, was a wide Rimar hide belt, with a long ivory dagger, hanging from the left side. Her green eyes flashed in the sunlight, they seemed to glow with an inner fire. In spite of all Arn's promises, he longed to hold her, just one more time.
A price to pay; he told himself again.
Ishea was eager for the battle ahead, she had stood before many enemies, and defeated them all. She had never fought a God. The thought of standing before such power, and shouting out her battle cry, made her blood hot, and her heart pound. She gripped her Kagar tightly, as she looked over her warriors, as she did, a cold feeling, cut into her heart. Ral would not be at the head of the warriors, he was still a prisoner in the Fortress' holding cells.
He has broken our laws and he must pay a price; being Queen, she would make sure the price was paid. She was also his mother, and no matter how much power she wielded, she still longed to have her son at her side. She looked over at her former mate, seeing him standing so proud and strong, she wished, to command his heart, like he commanded hers.
The air was filled with the blaring of signal horns, and the pounding of war drums. The warriors looked at their King and Queen, as the noise faded, Ishea moved forward to speak to her people.
“We have fought many battles and won many victories”, she said in a loud clear voice, “and always you have stood beside your queen!” Hearing this the Norgonie warriors, let out a loud cry and waved their spears in the air, when the cheering faded, the Queen spoke again. “Now, I ask you to stand with me once more, this time, not against an enemy of flesh and bone, but against a God of steel, who seeks to destroy us. Now I say this, be it God or man, we will not run, we will stand and fight, all shall know that the Norgonie, are not cowards, even Gods should fear us!”
There was a great cheer from the Forest-dwellers, it continued until the Madrigal King, walked forward. Arn waited for the shouting to die down, then he spoke to his people too.
“All the Outlands know the strength of the Madrigal, we defeated the Talsonar. Any foe, who dares to challenge us to battle, will also be defeated”. Like the Norgonie, the Nomads let out a great shout that shook the air. “We are strong, yes, but we will not standalone, we must fight beside our brothers and sisters of the forest, with them we are even stronger. We worship different Gods, and we travel different lands, but we will stand as one, before the approaching demon.” There was now, cheering from the warriors of both Nomad and Norgonie. “Now stand together as one, stand together and let all creatures know, be they demon or Gods, we are protectors, guardians, warriors and we will not fall!”
The Fortress erupted in a roar, it shook the very stones of the ancient structure. Nomad and Norgonie stood together, not even the Fires of Doom, would stop them.
Nomads The Fallen God Page 45