Gorn’s unusual climate was the result of its swing around the huge central star that they called Karus , Micos the smaller of the twin suns also made that orbit and traveled with Gorn on its long journey. It gave light and some warmth to the planet but not enough to keep it from falling into a frozen winter, now it moved towards its brother star once more and soon the two would bring an abundance of life. But although the land began to grow once more there were more strange occurrences, field flowers that should have not have bloomed yet did so, Arrowtails the deadly flying reptiles that lived in the great Balbar trees began to build their nest much too early, and many of the Elders said that the air smelled of strange orders and their dreams were filled with troubling images. All these things caused much talk around the Washa’s but most of the tribe put it down to coincidence and put their trust in Isarie.
The land to the West of Yomar is dotted with canyons and open spaces, there you still find the occasional ancient war machine or Dropship but it is mostly a place of great beauty and wonder. All over the land there were the remnants of long abandoned fortresses, stone and metal dwellings that a sometime must have held great numbers of people. In the sides of cliffs could be seen carvings and half-finished statuary, gigantic monuments to long forgotten Gods. Large frozen lakes are plentiful and the wheels of the Nomads wagons were fitted with iron spikes that would let them travel over the frozen terrain with ease. With each passing day, the air became warmer but it was still far from the warmth of the Green Time, and ice and snow covered great patches of land. The warriors watched the landscape for any sign of Hagars for the creatures of the North had not returned to their frozen homes and would readily fall on any unwary tribe.
The Almadra traveled for three more days without incident, they made their camp at night and sat by their Washa’s singing songs and preparing themselves for what lay ahead. The long winter was over now and the warmer days meant that they would need their summer clothing and the wagons would have to be cleaned and repainted for they would soon be entering into the land of the Sea People.
The Wave Riders or Sea People as they were called were related to the Outlanders but there were still great differences between them, not as heavily muscled as the Nomads they were still tall and strong, but rather than the dark hair that most Nomads had the ocean people possessed fair hair. There was also a light greenish ting to their skin and their eyes were mostly the color of the sea, Egmar was one of the water dwellers but she had dark hair and eyes. Her skin had long ago lost the coloring that marked her as one of that tribe, her ears had also changed, they were not elongated like the Sea People and gone was the involuntary response to close off her nose to water, these and other related abilities had vanished when she left her home and began her life as a Nomad. Most would say it was the will of Isaire but a scholar of the Outer Rim would say it was an adaption her new surroundings, while still other would say it was the effects of the Grana that they ingested, the treasured mineral that all people on the planet must ingest to keep from getting the Plague that infests all of Gorn. But although the Holy Mother was a Nomad she now and then still yearned for the sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean breeze.
The Holy Mother sat in her chamber surrounded by the things she loved most, a small gold statue of Isarie that she prayed before, her ancestor chest filled with the treasures of her past, a simple carved wooden bed, a table, chair and a silver lamp.
As the great wagon that bore her moved over the hard earth, she sat quietly enjoying a warm cup of Deep-root tea. She wore a simple but warm robe and did not adorn herself with the normal gold and silver jewels that a speaker for the Gods normally wore. One thing she did wear was a small silver bell that her mate had given her, it was well made with a Rimar hide cord holding it around the neck, Karn the great King of the Almadra had given it to her when they first met. At that time, he was not yet the King just a Prince of the tribe but he fell for the beauty of the young Egmar and she longed to have him as her mate.
How much I loved him, she thought as she touched the small silver bell, and how much he loved me. As she heard her mind say those words she also knew that she was forgetting many things that had taken place. Over the long cycles that she had not returned to her home, she let her mind forget what had really transpired but now as they traveled towards her long-ago tribe those images began to rise-up inside her.
Dennor, she must have forgiven me by now? She asked herself, she must have known that love cannot be guided like a Whiptail, it must be followed like a wagon behind a Trofar.
She took a long sip of her warm tea, and then looked at the metal object that sat on a table at one end of her room.
“I am sorry my son for so many things.” She said softly.
The cold head that had once belonged to her forgotten son did not speak to her, how could it? It was just a thing of metal and wires cut from its bionic body by the King in the great battle with Atos the God of war.
But she still felt something for the strange object, it was just metal and wires but it was all she had left of her son. And as she looked into its emotionless robotic eyes she thought that she heard her dead son calling her name? She listened for a moment or two then shook her head.
“It was just the wind speaking to the earth” she said and took another sip of her delicious tea.
But outside the wind was still and the earth was frozen and could not listen.
Riding beside the great Karrack of the Holy Mother Kalgar-Rune sat tall in his saddle and watched the surrounding land for any sign of danger; he held his War-ax in his strong hand and made sure that his warriors were doing the same. If any guardian of the speaker of the Gods failed to do this he or she would have to face the wrath of the old warrior and they would rather face a full-grown Sagar cat instead of their commander.
Normally Kalgar would fill his mind with the words of the Book of Isarie for he had long ago memorize all the chapters and could recite them word for word if need be. But now he did not think of the wisdom of the Goddess and his mind was filled with things that had not troubled him in the past.
Am I to live out my life without a mate at my side? If he had said these words outright or heard any of his warriors say such a thing he would have struck them hard on the face for a Thungodra is sworn to never think of mating, nor show that they have any interest other than the protection of the Holy Mother. Kalgar had avowed this as a young man and had trained his mind to never think of such things, but now he did.
Why now? He asked himself, why do I fill my mind with such things? And he tried to drive the evil out of his head. I am a Thungodra, I am pledged to the Goddess, I will not go against my vow. He then began to recite one of his favorite passages in the Holy Book.
You are my strong right hand.
You will sit beside me in the Golden Hall.
My love will warm you and you will never die.
But no matter how hard he tried the day was cold and there would be no one waiting in his shelter, my tent is a good one he thought it has kept me safe and warm for many cycles, but as he pictured his dwelling in his mind he saw a figure waiting for him at the entrance, a strong woman with dark eyes and a kind smile, and as he looked into her face it seemed to take on the features of someone he knew well, but who? Is this woman meant for me? But then his Whiptail let out a roar and the image vanished.
The old warrior quickly looked about him seeking any sign of danger but when he saw there was none he thought again of his tent, but this time there was no woman waiting for him, it is as it should be, he told his mind, for a Thungodra is a servant of the Gods and not a weakling who needs the comfort of a mate. But the image of the woman still lingered in his mind and no matter how hard he tried he could not erase it from his memory.
More days of travel passed and then the Tribe of the Almadra entered the Valley of Jedar. As always Arn lead his people on their travels, he rode his Whiptail proudly and beside him rode his mate. Behind him was the tribe of the Almadra and all who looked at them
said that they had the blessings of the Gods.
It was late in the day when Andra’s mount rose up over a small rise and there on the other side lay the green lands of Jedar. “So green” she said out loud for it had been a long time since she had seen a land of grass and growing things and the wonder of all the warm life filled her heart with contentment. She turned to the man who road beside her, “this place reminds me of home”.
And indeed, it was true for her Homeworld was once green and filled with life, and being a farm girl she had a close bond with the land and knew of its many gifts.
The great valley was ringed by high snowcapped mountains; it was filled with many small lakes and one large body of water in the middle, all about were huge Balbar trees with knotted limbs that seemed to reach into the sky. Vast fields of green grass, Kasha wheat and Meadow cane were everywhere and with the greenery were great herds of Rimar and other Thundra beasts that were growing fat on the succulent grass.
Doff birds, Ax-breakers, Dagger-mouths; Sagar cats, all the large creatures of Gorn were there down to the tiny Burrow babies and Dot-flies, it was a place of plenty for all who called it home. And now the Outlanders would make their camp here and pray to the Gods for their kindness.
Seeing the Land of Plenty brought smiles to the faces of the Nomads but there was one who did not seem content.
Osh had to sit in the passenger side of his wagon and listen to the endless stories of the Touchtender who was his companion and although he was a patient man he was about to reach the end of his endurance, Alune had been told by the King to care for the old man and she would obey that wish, so she dressed his wound and prepared his food and did his washing without complaint, but in return for her efforts she felt it was only fair that he should listen to her many stories of her past life and the men that had shared her bed. She didn’t mean it to be a burden to the old man it was just her way, she loved to talk and she loved to listen and for all her outward hardness she was a caring person, a Cup-sharer and someone that would stand by your side in friendship.
There was also the matter of the strange young girl, the Nomads had been ordered by the King not to harm the child, and no one would disobey the orders of the King and although the Touchtender had cared for many she was not content to know that the girl would be riding in the wagon with them. She knew that the girl only left the darkness of the Karrack at night and never showed her pale face to the twin suns but that was of little comfort for she was not one of the Chosen that was a certainty but she held her tongue and did as she was ordered, so she concentrated on the old man and left the girl to the will of the Gods.
“Tebor-Con was my third mate, he was a great hunter and knew how to hold a woman, but he was also very fond of Po and that proved to be his undoing for one day he was out hunting when his Whiptail stumbled and sent him flying to….” Enough!” cried the Callaxion, “I have been prodded and poked and fed Hagar soup with too much Ulon spice and I have not spoken out because my people believe that listening is knowledge but I will not sit still and have my tired head filled with the yammering of your adventures with men long dead!”
For a time Alune said nothing then turned to look at the old man riding beside her, he is a sour man she thought, “Very well perhaps it is time that you told me of your mates?”
This question annoyed Osh even further, “My what?” he asked. “Tell me of the women that have shared your bed, I’m sure a man of your advanced age has had many”. Osh held up his wounded hand and shook it at the overbearing Touchtender, “That is my concern not yours” he said gruffly then turned and stared at the green valley.
Once again Alune said nothing for a time, then she spoke, “You have not shared a bed, have you?” she asked.
But the old man did not answer. “I can see now why you are so angry; a bed is more content when it is shared”. All this talk of beds and sharing them made the old man grind his teeth and wish that he had never left his home planet.
“Very well” the Touchtender said, “Now where was I? Oh yes, Targar the Tall was my second mate, he had lovely eyes and a strong back, I remember one cold night he came to our bed and lifted me in his arms and we…”
Listening to the yammering’s of the old woman made Osh thankful that being a Touchtender Alune was not bound by the law of the Outlands that said if a person brings you food you are mated, but that was of little comfort to him as she continued on her remembering of her erotic past.
“Yes, Targar was a fine man although he was a bit to found of drink when I met him but that soon changed when I told him I was not going too…”.
Osh considered throwing himself from the wagon but the ground was hard and he knew that he would only damage himself, and that would mean spending even more time with the annoying woman.
The night moons of Gorn found the tribe of the Almadra dancing outside their tents and singing songs to the stars. They had made their camp beside a small lake that had no Daggermouths and would be a safe place to let the Whiptails roam free, there the beasts could feed on fat Rimar and satisfy their ravenous appetites, they would be called back by the signal horns for hunting or defense for they had been trained to obey its call but in the mean time they could run free and strong. With the coming of warmth, it was also the time that the Whiptails gave birth to their young. The fertile lands would supply enough Rimar meat for them to grow strong and there were few predators, now and then a Doff bird would carry off one of the young reptiles and some ventured to close to water were Daggermouths lived, but those that managed to survive were treasured for they would be trained and given to the young warriors to ride. Choosing a Whiptail and training them is no easy task but I will not speak of it now.
The Torfar could also eat to their hearts content for the land was filled with young grass and all the tasty morsels that they loved so much, over the next days they would shed their thick fur that kept them warm through the cold and replace it with the tough hide that was their natural covering. The castoff fur would be gathered up by the tribe, cleaned and separated, then given to the Elders to be woven into robes to wear and other helpful items, the Outlanders had learned long ago to never throw anything away, and the soft hair would be of great use.
Now as the air filled with laughter and song Arn and Andra sat outside their tent and looked up at the night sky. “It’s good to see the clear sky” the young girl said, “I was growing tired of ice clouds and snow shapes”. “Yes” Arn replied, “Too much cold can chill the mind”.
The King reached down with one of his daggers and cut a large piece of Rimar meat that had been slowly roasting on the open fire of Eul, he checked to make sure it was cooked to his liking then stuffed it into his mouth, he chewed loudly then swallowed, and after that he picked up a large tankard of Well-aged Po and drank deeply. The meat was delicious and help erase some bad dreams that the King had been having, they were strange visions of his womb brother the twin that all Nomads have when they are born, but following the laws of Isarie one of them was put to death and the other saved. The Darkman as he was called was a Shadowman and an enemy of all Outlanders, he died by the Kings hand in the battle with the metal God, that did not ease the mind of the King, but the Rimar was good and soon the taste of it along with a goodly amount of Well-aged Po would help vanish the dreams from Arn’s mind.
Andra’s eating habits were a bit more subdued, she cut a smaller piece of the tender meat and put it into a silver plate, then cutting it into smaller pieces she ate it slowly with sips of her sour drink.
“How long before we reach the sea?” she asked as she slowly chewed.
“There is much to do before then, we have to mend the wagons, fill the grainary carts with Kasha wheat and fatten the Trofars, and then there is the matter of the selections of the young”.
“Selections of the young?”
“Yes, we must choose who Horcon the God of destiny, has determined what lives they should lead”.
Andra took a sip of her Po, “you mean you l
eave the fate of your offspring’s in the hands of a religious ritual?”
“Of course, how else should we know who will be a warrior, an ironworker, a healer and all the things needed to make the tribe strong?”
Long ago the Selcarie girl had learned never to question the ways of her adopted tribe for they had been doing things their way for a great many cycles and it had proven to be the right way for them, but still the idea of some strange God choosing how you should live your life seemed very odd. But then she began to think of her own traditions and how things were done on her Home world and after a short time she realized that she should not be a judge in a court that is not her own.
At the campsite of Osh and Alune there was finally peace and quiet, the old man decided that he would begin his rest early and avoid any more confrontations with the overbearing woman he was forced to share his wagon with. The talkative Handmaiden also found the solitude of her tent a much better place than the sharing a campfire with such a hardened Frail-leg, so she cleaned their food plates, put fresh bandages on her companion’s hand, said a short prayer to Isarie for wisdom and perseverance then fell asleep on her mattress and dreamed of the warm embrace of men.
Shortly after a small figure climbed out of their wagon and slowly made its way out of the campsite of the Almadra. Niana did not walk in the daylight, the harshness of the twin suns was something that the pale skinned girl could not tolerate, so she waited until Karus and Micos fell from the sky and then she began her nightly walks. She moved like a phantom among the tribe, and although she passed very near the guards that patrolled the outermost ring of wagons, she was not challenged, for they followed the commands of their King that no harm should come to the girl. Added to that was their fear that this young adolescent would cast a spell on them, or do some mischief to their loved ones. For they thought of her as a Soulseer a witch of the Outlands so Niana moved quietly passed them and they did not look at her.
Now any child of the Nomads knew that danger is always present and the night is the home of demons and wild beasts but that did not seem to matter to the young girl and she walked with confidence and soon the light from the Outlanders camp grew faint in the distance.
But there was another wanderer of the land that night for Kalgar-Rune could not sleep and now sought comfort in the open air, he wore his armor and carried his weapon as he always did, he watched as Niana moved through the camp and into the land beyond.
She is a strange creature he thought, and without knowing why he decided to follow in her footsteps and see where she was heading and why? He watched her as she continued on her path and now and then she would glance up at the night sky and smile at seeing the different moons making their way across the heavens. Where can she be going? He asked himself, there is only danger and death waiting for the weak.
But Niana was unaware of being watched and she continued on, then as she passed a group of large boulders she came face to face with terror.
Two large Sagar cats stood only a few feet away and stared at her with their great yellow eyes, their massive canine teeth showed like twin daggers as they drew back their lips in a dripping snarl, and from their throats came a low growl that could only mean one thing.
Hunger.
Kalgar saw that his warnings were correct and now he was faced with a dilemma, the commands of the King were clear, “let no harm come to the girl” but the old warrior could see that this was of her own making and was not caused by any member of the tribe.
It is the will of Isarie that she should perish. And deep inside him he found contentment with this for he never trusted the strange girl or the influence that she seemed to have over the King and his mate. Let her die, it is her destiny.
There was no warrior strong enough to defeat two Sagar cats, even Arn the King would never be able to bring down such a deadly pair but the small girl did not fall to her knees in terror and wait for her life to end, instead she stood looking back into the menacing gaze of the huge beasts and they in turn glared back at her. Then a strange thing happened. The two felines stopped their growling and lowered their massive heads, they waited for a moment or two and watched at the small girl walked to them and place her tiny hands on their heads, she patted them like a child would pet a Burrow-baby and then she once more began her walk.
All this Kalgar watched with unbelieving eyes. “Valcoush!” he said under his breath, it was a word in the old language meaning sacrilege, She is not a human thing, she is a witch of the Outlands, and being a servant of the Goddess he knew that she should be destroyed, her body burned and her ashes spread to the winds, but how could he do this with two strong Sagar cats under her spell? He decided to wait for a better time to strike her down.
The small girl continued into the night, all creatures that saw her bowed their heads for they seemed to understand that this was not a being that would do them harm, rather they knew that she was a part of them, and looking at her would be like looking into a pool of clear water and seeing their refections. Soon there was a great trail of Outland creatures following the frail human into the night and beasts that would normally fall prey to each other now lived in harmony.
Kalgar followed behind always out of site and keeping his hand tightly holding the handle of his ax, how can the King not know of this demon in our tribe? Perhaps he has fallen under her spell? This brought a cold hand to his heart for if the King cannot be trusted what dire faith waited for the tribe? I made a pledge to the King but my oath as one of the Thungodra oversees that, I will not let any harm come to the Holy Mother! And hearing his mind say this he griped his tooth even harder.
The old warrior continued to trail the pale girl then after a time they came to an open space in the land, it was not covered by grass and the ground was smoother than any other place in Jedar, Niana stood there without saying a word and her animal companions did not howl or make any sound of the night, then the young female looked down at the ground and spoke a single word.
“Mother”.
Slowly there was a low rumbling sound from deep underground, a Nomad would have said that they had awakened an Earthshaker and that they should run for their lives but the girl only stood quietly and waited. The sound grew more intense then the earth itself began to move.
What is happening? Kalgar thought, is she summoning more demons from the Pit of Marloon?
Slowly an outcropping broke from the earth, a monolith that was not made of rock or Eul or any normal formation on the surface of the planet. It was the height of three tall men and had an octagonal construction to it, it was easy to see that no human hand had shaped this crystal monument; its surface was smooth and looked like it had been polished by the goldsmiths of the forest people and in the moonlight, it seemed to glow with an inner light.
Niana moved to the luminescent projection and placed her small hands on its graceful surface and as she did the rocks light grew in intensity, soon the surrounding landscape was bathed in a soft warm glow, then the girl began to speak.
“Yes, I hear and understand” she said softly, “I will do what must be done”. There was a pause as the girl placed her arms around the strange object and hugged it like a loved one, “there can be no endings only a new beginning”. The girl put her face to the glowing stone and closed her eyes.
From his hiding place Kalgar saw all that had been done.
She is indeed a demon from the pit, then he turned and slowly made his way back to camp and as he walked his mind filled with questions, should he go against the King and kill the girl or should he trust in Isarie? More questions filled his mind as he walked under the night moons and those only brought more pain to his heart.
That night the dreams of the Outlanders were troubled, and that was a strange thing for their sleep time usually brought contentment and images of wonderful places and peaceful thoughts. But this night saw them tossing and turning in their tents and some even cried out in pain and fear and all through the darkness they found no relief.
Even the King and his mate did not fare well, Andra dreamt of her mother and her brother but she saw them screaming in pain and reaching out to her and she in turn tried to reach them but she could not. The King saw his younger brother Agart alive once more but he was not the contented sibling that he knew in his younger days, this man was worn and tired and the cycles weighted heavy on him, he tried to speak to him but all he received in return was a warning to beware, beware of what he did not know?
Osh also dreamed and that was something that he never did for Callaxions minds were to orderd to see images they did not want to see, only once before did he see things in his sleep but those were sent by Isarie herself to guide him and give him the knowledge to save her world from the God-Machine that fell from the sky.
Egmar also had her rest invaded, she saw mind worlds that she did not understand, things that brought fear to her heart and caused her to wake from her sleep and rush to her small statue of the Goddess and begin praying to her for wisdom to know what she had seen.
The only one who did not fear was Kalgar-Rune, a short time before dawn he fell asleep and his visions were of fire and death, warriors rushing to battle with the smell of death in the air. It was the dream that the Thungodra leader welcomed for it was the prayer of their faith that they should die fighting, and have their souls find the golden hall of Isarie and there spend all eternity.
Yes, the Outlanders did dream and old or young, wise or foolish, warrior or workman, all of them saw a dark figure surrounded by mist, a figure that was bent and misshapen, a creature of dark power and without a soul. They heard it calling to them but not in a voice filled with hope or love, this voice spoke of war and death, of worlds to be conquered and enemies to destroy. They did not know who or what this new power was but they knew that they would see it again.
Nomads The Risen God Page 9