Chapter 49. The Vow
A vow cannot be broken for it is a pledge of the soul.
A warrior can live without an arm or a leg.
They cannot live without a soul.
Law of the Outlanders.
The Sandjar did not include themselves in the ritual for the Norgonie Queen, although they were free, there was no love in their hearts for their en-slavers. They rested, near to what was left of the holy pyramid, having their fill of food and drink, some said this was indeed freedom, and their Coraw had led them well. They had spent their entire lives, in a dim underground world, so many turned away from the sun, hiding themselves in the broken rocks, and under the canopies, provided by the Nomads.
Endo and Rawna sat together, they seemed content, but Endo was not, he still thought about his lost father.
“He taught me all I know,” he said looking into his mate'a eyes, “the days ahead will be empty without him”.
A strange feeling stirred within him, thinking upon it, he suddenly realized his acute sense of smell was calling to him, he stood up and started to follow the beckoning scent. Rawna did not understand, but she did not want to be alone, so she walked with him.
They walked slowly, around the huge base of the fallen temple, avoiding loose stones, and staying out of the sunlight when possible. As scent became stronger to Endo's keen nose, he realized what was attracting him.
His father.
In the past, he had paid little attention to the odors, emanating from the old man, now a multitude of olfactory images, came flooding back. Parchment and ink, sweat and earth, well-aged Po and perfectly spiced Hagar soup. Endo was pulled around to an open space, at the back of the great weapon. He stopped to find himself, standing by a strangely marked section, it appeared to be a portal of some sort. It bore neither lock nor handle, and was impossible to open, it was made of a thick metal, even harder than Itarian steel. Despite its perfection, it could not hold back the Sandjar's olfactory sense.
Endo ran his clawed hands over the pitted surface, then in frustration, he began to beat upon it with his fists. To Rawna, having spent her entire life digging rock and earth, it seemed a useless gesture. She picked up a piece of metal, laying on the ground and began to work alongside her mate. Seeing his mate, had a better idea, Endo found a digging tool and copied her method. It proved to be useless, the portal could not even be marked, after a time, they both dropped to their knees exhausted. Endo, weeping in frustration, heard a sound, it was barely perceptible at first, just a tiny clicking noise, like a field jumper. They continued to work, shortly there was another noise, this time it was much louder, and there was rumbling and shaking. The two Sandjar watched, as the portal began to open. They gazed in amazement, as the massive door opened, and a proud, bent old man, walked out.
Osh was dirty, his thin arms bore many scratches and bruises, but he was alive, and his eyes shone with fulfillment. He stood, shaking bits of rubble from his robe and clearing dust from his throat, then he smiled at his son and said.
“Do you by chance, happen to have a cup of Po with you? I’m very thirsty.”
Endo shook his head, then rushed to put his arms, around the man he called father.
In the days and nights that followed, the Nomads and Norgonie, worked together to rebuild the Great Fortress. Soon the Forest-dwellers could select a new Queen, and she would lead them into the future. Arn would see that order was maintained for now, and what needed to be done was done.
He did not spent much time in his tent, Andra could see, something was burdening him, but she was a mother now, and she concentrated on that. She was overjoyed, to hear that Osh had not been killed and was alive and well. The Callaxion told her of his imprisonment, and his escape. He left out many details, such as his confrontation with Vitranius, and how the High Priest had written the Holy Book of Isarie. If their conversation was overheard, it would bring chaos to the Outlanders. He didn't mention how he activated the God Machine to save them, that would have angered the Norgonie. So he concentrated on the infant, brought back from the Forbidden City, by his companion. To him, it was a marvel of evolution, but when he asked if he could take some blood and tissue samples, for study, Andra grew angry, he decided, it was time to leave!
Osh was a bit taken aback, by his sons, fast leap into manhood. Rawna was a fine specimen of a Sandjar. He started to ask about her heritage, trying to calculate, if she was the best possible mate, for his son. He eventually stopped questioning, he could see, they were in love, and love cannot be broken down into an equation.
Arn’s mind was indeed troubled. The strange madness, no longer controlled the Holy Mother, so he decided to talk with her. He hoped, she might have some answers, about the demons plaguing his mind.
With the night moons, shining brightly, the King walked to the Goddess' moving shrine. The Thungodra permitted him access to the Holy Mother's great tent. He was taken to Egmar's inner chamber, by a young Handmaiden. On entering, he found his mother, dressed in a simple robe of green cloth, sitting in a chair, reading from the Book of Isarie. She did not speak at first, then turning her head to her son, she asked. “How can I help you my King?”
Arn moved to her side, he looked into her eyes. “Tell me of my womb brother.”
Egmar had been dreading this moment, but it was here, and she would not remain silent. Standing she put her hand on her son's shoulder.
“When the choosing time came, I was bound by the Laws of Isarie, to decide who should live, and who should die. I took your brother into the desert, he was supposed to die there. I was weak and could not obey the will of the Goddess. So I let him live, and many, have paid with their lives for that decision”. She put her hand on the Holy Book, “I can never forgive myself for my sin, and I pray that Rahash, has found peace”.
“Rahash?” asked the King.
“Yes, the name I gave to him, in my heart, I knew, I would never see my son again.”
Arn now understood, why his mother had chosen that name for his forgotten brother. In the old language of the Nomads, it meant “Lost”, something a Nomad could never become.
“I understand now”, he said softly, “you did what you did, out of love, Isarie knows this, she will forgive you, even if you cannot”.
He went to her side, and kissed her on the forehead, “you are my mother, and I will always love you, no matter how far apart we are”. Without another word, he turned and left her side.
Egmar let him go, then went to a small chest, in one corner of her chamber. Bending down, she slowly opened it, with care she lifted a bundle of linen, and set it upon the table. She removed the cloth and looked at the uncovered object.
The severed head of her son Rahash!
After the Great Machine was destroyed, she ventured into the battlefield, praying for the souls of the dead, that was when she found the steel skull. She knew, she should have left it where it lay, but knowing it was part of her lost son, she bore it home. She looked at the vacant eyes, and uttered a small prayer.
“My wandering son, I ask the Gods, to grant you peace”.
She sat down in her chair, around her, the sacred statues, of the many Gods of the Outlanders. She could name them all. She could also recite from memory, every word of the Book of Isarie, but despite those words, she forgot the meaning of one.
Forgiveness.
She sat alone for a long time, then feeling the need to go outside, she left her chamber, and the great tent. She commanded her Thungodra, to stay at their posts and not to come after her, she walked through the Fortress gate, towards the forest beyond. It was a very dangerous thing to do, the green woods, echoed with the cries of wild hungry creatures, a lone woman could not hope to survive. Egmar trusted in Isarie, she continued walking, until there was no sight of the Norgonie stronghold. all about her, were giant trees, and the ruins of structures long abandoned, to the encroaching forest. To anyone else, it would have seemed a haunted place, but the Holy Mother, felt the hand of the Goddess, guidi
ng her, she continued to walk. At last she came to a small clearing, with the moonlight piercing the canopy of leaves overhead, she stopped by a fallen statue, of a God she did not recognize.
She stood for a long time, letting the spirits of living things enter her. She prayed to find peace in her heart. She heard a voice calling to her.
“Why are you sad my child?” it said.
Looking up, the Holy Mother saw a figure, moving slowly towards her, at first she thought it was a witch, they were known to inhabit the Forests of Caltarine. As it drew closer, she recognized the face, one she had seen many times before.
The Goddess Isarie.
A witch can hex the mind, and demons can wear a Spell-mask, to hide their ghastly features, projecting a pleasing face. Egmar knew, this was not trick of the mind, or a demon come to possess her. She fell to her knees and covered her face, for she felt unworthy to see such a vision.
“Do not look at me”, she cried, “for my face is one of vanity, and is not my own”.
The Tran, she had consumed when under the dark demon's control, had made her face young again. Although its power no longer controlled her, she retained her false youth. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, looking up she saw the Goddess, smiling.
“You are my true servant”, the vision said, helping her to her feet. Egmar stood before the most powerful of Gods.
“Have you come to punish me?” the Holy Mother asked.
“No”, replied the vision, “I have come to thank you”.
Egmar could not understand, in her mind, she was not worthy of praise.
“It was I, who sent the dark companion to you, it was I who guided your steps, it was the only way to save my world, and the creatures who dwell in me. I reached into your mind, as I did with the woman who fell from the stars, and the old man who sought wisdom. I do this for all who need me.
Egmar's eyes still, did not show understanding.
“This form you see before you, is not what I am. I am beyond your comprehension, I chose this form, so you will not be afraid. My form changes in the dreams of every person I visit. To ease their minds, I speak to them or appear, as someone they once loved.”
For an instant, the Holy Mother saw a multitude of faces pass before her eyes. An old woman, a young child, or brave warrior, and many others she could not recognize, all of them, bearing the loving eyes of the Goddess.
“I am vast, I am everywhere, but know this my child, I will always be with you, and I will always love you.”
The vision faded, and in a few moments it was gone. The words of the Goddess remained, falling to her knees, the Holy Mother cried, she had found forgiveness at last.
Days passed, soon it was time to bid farewell to the Norgonie and the Forests of Caltarine. The Nomads were rested, their wounds healed. They loaded their wagons and prepared to leave the Great Fortress, to continue their wandering lifestyle.
They would not travel alone, the Sandjar were coming too. The Norgonie gave them Karracks, provisions and even weapons. They had taken an oath, never to keep slaves, they would not break that vow. Strange as it seems, not all the Scavengers wanted to go. Many of them, were afraid of what lay outside the walls, bright daylight, did not appeal to them. So Endo called them together, he told them that Freedom, was about making your own choices. If they wanted to stay behind, they could, otherwise, they could come with him. It was not easy to choose, but after some time, a good number of them, said they would remain behind. This pleased the Norgonie, they said that if the Sandjar supplied them with Eul, they would give them all the food they could eat, plus a safe place to live.
They would be without a leader to guide them, and that could prove problematic. Endo took Mog, his guardian and friend, to one side, to speak with him.
“I am not staying”, he said to the big Sandjar, “you can come with me, or stay and become the new Leader, you must decide”.
Mog had fought for survival all his life, now he could lead his people, not through fear, but with respect. Endo had taught him well, and he would never forget those lessons. He thought it over for a time, then nodded his large head.
“Freedom to stay”, he said.
So Mog, who was once feared, became the leader of his people, his rule, would treat them with kindness, they in turn would call him, Coraw.
That night, the Great Dome of the Norgonie, was filled with laughter and song, for when Sunbirth rose, the Nomads would be leaving. Tonight they would feast, tell tales of strength and glory, and let all cares depart.
At the long table of honor, Arn sat with Andra at his side, her child safe in the Holy Wagon, surrounded by Thungodra. Next to Andra sat Valen, who did not wear his armor, he had a wound across his chest that still needed time to heal. Anais and Kela were also present, along with Kuno and Balru, Ral, and a host of warriors from both tribes. They all wore their best armor, and showed off their bandaged wounds with pride. They ate great hunks of roasted Rimar, warm Kasha bread and Hagar soup, all washed down with barrels of well-aged Po. They told stories of their courage, and how neither man nor God, could defeat them in battle. Although some fights broke out, between the Outlanders and Norgonie, they were soon forgotten, in a mist of wine and song.
Not all the warriors were content, although Valen had fulfilled his pledge, and his enemy defeated, he was still Outcast, his soul, would wander the Afterlife, alone and forgotten.
My tribe is gone he told himself; I can never return to them. He knew, there was nothing he could do, so he drove the despair from his mind, and joined in the merriment as best he could.
When the celebration reached its peak, the King stood up, he spoke loud enough, for all to hear.
“Strong warriors”, he shouted, “together we have destroyed a great enemy, but we lost a strong Queen, I say that we raise our hands to her memory, to warn the Gods of her coming!”
So they lifted their drinking horns and goblets, and shouted out her name.
“Ishea!”
Andra lifted her cup, as she did, she remembered a dream from long ago. A dream where she saw her mate, coming towards her covered in blood, and a demon fire burning in his eyes.
Where had he been? She asked herself, the imaged vanished, and she was standing by her mate once more.
As the shouts and cheers died down, the King spoke once more.
We must all pay tribute, to a brave warrior, without his warning, we may well fallen, before the metal God. “To Valen.”
Following their King's lead, they lifted their cups, and called out his name. The King seated himself, and the Handmaiden, Kela stood up, seeing that she wished to speak, Arn called out for silence, it soon came. Now the young woman spoke, to her King.
“I wish to give a special gift, to the brave Caladon warrior.” The King nodded his head in agreement.
The young Handmaiden, walked slowly around the long table, she stood beside Valen, he had risen to his feet, smiling, knowing he was about to be honored.
Kela bowed her head, then looked into his eyes. “I bring you a gift from my father.”
Before anyone could react, she pulled a dagger from her robe. and plunged it into the Caladon's chest, with all her strength.
Valen stood for a moment, not understanding what had happened, then he fell to the ground. Arn rushed quickly to his side, he lifted him up, and looked into his eyes. He could see the dagger wound, was too great for him, to live much longer. To ease his passing, he said, “I, King of the Madrigal, say you are now one of us. You are no longer an Outcast, but a strong warrior of our tribe, and being so, you will have a place of honor, in the Golden Hall of Isarie”.
Hearing that his soul would not, wander alone in the Afterlife, Valen closed his eyes, and left this world with a contented heart.
Kela did not resist, when they bore her out of the Great Dome, amide shouts of vengeance, from the warriors. She was taken to the King's tent, and surrounded by Arn, Andra, Anais, and some of the tribe's Elders. She stood with her head down, sayi
ng nothing.
Arn looked at her for a moment, then asked, the question, everyone was eager to have answered.
“Why?”
The young Handmaiden did not speak at first, then lifting her head, she looked into her King's eyes.
“I loved my father, and when he lay dying in my arms, from a wound, caused by a Caladon, he made me promise, to avenge his death, someday. Knowing he would soon be gone, I promised to fulfill his wish. When I became a Handmaiden of Isarie, the oath I spoke before her altar, could not erase the one, I gave to my father. Now that vow is fulfilled, and I await your judgement.”
Anais, had suffered many pains in his life, none of them, compared to the one, he was feeling now.
I wanted to be loved; he thought; now I have found it, I will lose it. His thoughts had truth.
It was clearly written, in the laws of the Outlanders, and those of Arm-Ra that if anyone kills a warrior, without first offering them a Challenge, they will be killed in turn. There was no doubt, the woman had killed the Caladon, it was seen by many, including the King. Now her fate, was in the hands of Arn and the Elders. They argued long into the night, while the Handmaiden, sat outside the tent with her lover, surrounded by warriors.
Anais sat holding her hand, they did not speak, there was little to be said. The blind Prince thought; whatever was to come, we would face it together; he did not wish to live without the woman he loved.
With the first rays of light, breaking over the horizon, Kela's fate was decided.
She had indeed broken the law, so the punishment should be death. She did what she did, not out of hate or malice, but because of a promise, she made to her father, who she loved very much. Since it was for love, she would not die, but she could no longer, be part of the tribe. With a sad heart, the King proclaimed her Outcast, and commanded her to leave.
The morning suns, found the Nomads, ready to continue their endless journey. The wagons were full, and the Trofar snorted and pawed the ground, eager to be on the move. Likewise the Whiptails, began to roar, and rake the ground with their clawed feet, they to wanted to be in the open, away from the confining walls of the Fortress.
Kela was also ready to starr her life as an Outcast. She would not be traveling alone, Anais had vowed to stay by her side, they were given a strong Karrack, Trofar and provisions. Because the Blind Prince, had proven himself, a man of understanding, he was given the Thirty Nine Books of Wisdom, by the Norgonie. Although he could not see, they knew, his Handmaiden, would read to him. The Forest-dwellers, also gave them a pair of well-trained Drogs, for protection in the Outlands, and for that, they were grateful. The Nomads, provided them with Rimar horn, Sagar teeth, and other things, they could use to trade. When all was ready, they bid farewell, to those for whom they cared.
The King, Andra, and the Holy Mother, watched as their wagon was filled, then Arn spoke to his brother.
“We lived our lives apart, when we were together”, he said softly, “and now we are together, you must leave. I will think of you often.”
Hearing this, made the Prince smile, “you are a great King, and I am proud to call you brother”. They hugged.
Egmar also felt a great stirring in her heart, she cared for Kela, and was saddened to see her made Outcast.
“Once you called me Enor”; she said to the Handmaiden, “I hope you will again, someday”.
Kela’s eyes filled with tears, as she heard the Holy Mother's kind words, “pray for me”, she said softly. They held each other, in a warm embrace.
They passed through the Fortress' great gates, disappearing into the Forest. They could not know that someday, Outlanders far and wide, would know the name of Anais, and say, he was the greatest of all Sun Gazers. His wisdom averted many wars, and saved the lives of countless Nomads. At his side the woman called Kela, who cared for the sick, and whose devotion to Isarie, was second to none. Together they wandered all the Lands of Gorn, the followers they gathered, became one of the strongest tribes of the Outlands.
The tribe of the Madrigal, left the Forests of Caltarine, they journeyed West, until they came to the Place of Dreams. There they made camp, near the Great Red Stone, it marked the place, where their children had been laid to rest. It was a sad time, many remembered, those who had died. The Elders, placed sweet smelling field flowers on their graves, and the surviving children, said prayers to their womb brothers and sisters.
That night the campfires burned brightly, Washa smoke, rose high into the darkened sky. Songs were sung, and many stories, of their time with the Norgonie, were told. Moonbud and the King, had ridden their Whiptails, some distance from the camp, they wanted to be alone. Naked, they held each, and looked up at the moons of Gorn. Andra saw the tiny orb that bore her name, she asked a question.
“Do you think we will be remembered?”
The King thought for a moment, before answering her. “People are remembered for many things, for doing good or evil, it is not being remembered, but how our story is told”.
It seemed the perfect answer to her question, it reaffirmed the love, she bore for her mate. “I will never forget you”, she said, with a smile, then she pulled him to her, and they embraced.
The night seemed never ending, their passion was great, and it seemed that all their troubles had been cast out, only contentment remained. They embraced again, each time, more ecstatic than the last. When the morning suns began to rise, the King got up, he put on his armor, before Andra could do the same, he spoke.
“I must go”, he said softly.
At first, the Selcarie woman, thought he was simply returning to the camp, to make sure all was in readiness to travel. When she looked into his eyes, she knew there was something more.
He is going away; she thought.
Because of their mind link, she knew it to be true, but she still asked the question.
“Why?”
Arn did not answer, he adjusted the last of his armor, and took up his ax, then he turned to her.
“As King, I am at times called upon to pass judgement on my people, those that break our laws are punished, as were Thorm and Teal, when they walked the path of pain. When I break our laws, who holds judgment over me?”
The King paused, as he picked up his helmet, then he placed it over his head. “I have broken the law, when you were lying ill, in our tent, I promised my life to the Gods. If they let you live, I promised, always to be a strong King, to my tribe. I left them, to search for you in the Forbidden City, a true King would have put his people first. Last of all, I promised to always love you, and yet I laid with another in my arms, and it was her face that filled my heart. Now I must answer for those broken vows, I must suffer Korath Enargo, I must travel my path of pain.”
Arn's last words, cut her like a knife, and tears began to rise in her eyes.
“So I pass judgment on myself, I shall be an Outcast, to wander the Wastelands alone. When I die, I will not sit beside you, in the Golden Hall of Isarie, and my name will not be written in her book”.
He moved over to Andra and kissed her one last time.
“Remember me”, he said softly, as he mounted his Whiptail, he dug his spurs into its flanks, then rode off into the morning light.
Andra could have got up, and rode after him, but she knew, it would prove useless, he had made up his mind, and she would not, be able to change it. She watched him go, then sat and cried, until the twin suns were high in the sky. Knowing her child would need her, she returned to the Madrigal camp, and whatever life was awaiting her.
Arn guided his Whiptail to a small rise, he looked down on the Madrigal camp, he could see the great Holy Wagon, and the tents, housing those who once called him King. He saw them gathering their belongings, ready for the day's journey, and he wished with all his heart that he were going with them.
He had been an Outcast before, that was for breaking just one law, so he knew his punishment must be greater.
A price to pay; he told his mind.
He rea
ched into his belt, and took out a small flower, with markings that resembled a skull.
The Death Shadow of the Norgonie.
When he had returned to the crystal pool, to retrieve the seashell for Ishea, he also picked the poisonous plant. He had already made up his mind, to leave his tribe and the woman he loved. Seeing her reminded him of his betrayal, it was a pain, he could no longer tolerate. With one last look at his world, he took the delicate flower and put it into his mouth.
Soon all memory of his past life, would vanish, to be replaced with a dark world that would know only torment and vengeance. Who could say if that world, would be less painful than the one he left behind?
Nomads The Fallen God Page 50