Nomads The Risen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Ivar-Anoon was no stranger to pain for over his long combat career he had five ribs replaced with Itarian steel fabrications along with his lower jaw, his right leg femur, both hip joints and his left forearm, then there were the heart valves and kidneys and the back part of his skull, and of course the countless plasta-skin coverings and several dangerous head traumas. Through most of these procedures he had refused pain-dams for he believed that agony made a warrior stronger and he wished to be the strongest of all, now as he sat unmoving the med-tec injected an anti-infection pellet into his shoulder then stood back. “Completed” the med-tec said.

  Standing up on shaky legs the General turned to a subordinate at his side; the man was not use to dealing with an officer of such high rank and was visibly nervous. “Report” the commander said. Clearing his dry throat the man began to speak, “Heavy casualties, seventeen landers destroyed, five unaccounted for, communications intermittent, warrior strength is at twenty percent, all gravely wounded eliminated”.

  It was a clear and precise report but Ivar made a grumbling sound in his throat that told the subordinate that he should have done more, but the General was in no mood to bandy words so he let it go and left the damaged medical chamber and began to look over his crashed command ship. As he moved down the corridor it was easy to see that he was lucky to be alive for many of the bulkheads were buckled and there was a definite smell of plasma-coolant in the air. There were no bodies for they had already been disposed of but not by burial or cremation, the Youngarie were practical people when it came to warfare and they understood that a dead body contained many useable items the least of which was consumable meat, and being that their food containers had been damaged in the crash they made use of what they had.

  At the moment Ivar was not feeling hungry and he proceeded to his command bridge, when he entered an officer by the name of Pargras snapped to attention.

  “Commander in chamber!” he called out and immediately the other officers and repair-tec’s saluted and waited for orders from their leader. Ivar moved to his chair and sat down, he looked around at the damaged bridge then spoke, “We are wounded but not dead, we will heal and when ready we will attack, work hard or you will be punished”.

  Hearing those words the soldiers about him returned to their many tasks with renewed vigor.

  The General watched them for a moment then turned to Pargars, “Has there been any report from lander seven nine one?” “No sir, the last signal from seven nine one was a weak communication saying they were far off course and without power”.

  “Very well” Ivar said in a low voice, “If any new signals come in report to me immediately, dismissed”. “Understood General” the officer said then saluting smartly he turned and left.

  If any of the officers or technicians had dared to look at the Generals face they would have perceived nothing unusual, just the stern countenance they had seen so many times before, but beneath that unmoving exterior a battle was taking place for lander seven nine one was directed by Captain Romar, their commanders’ son and now that ship was lost and possibly destroyed.

  Is it my fault or his? Ivar thought but there was no emotion in his mind, nothing to show if he cared for his son or was concerned at the possible loss of combat strength, if the fault was mine in not making sure that his training was sufficient then I have paid the price for my underestimation, but if the responsibility was his then he will be punished.

  And that seemed to satisfy his mind for he began to punch the buttons on his console and when he got nothing in return he shouted for a repair-tec to make things right.

  There were no repair-tec’s in the tribes of the Nomads for there were no advanced machines to mend, and now that they had searched for survivors and found only one the warriors of the Tribe of Many began their trek back to their campsite. The strange fog was slowly lifting and soon it would be gone but abnormal sounds could still be heard and no Outlander dare think of their campfires until they were sitting beside them.

  Anais sat quietly as Kela followed their two Drogs as they barked ahead of them, she knew the way back to camp but she understood that it was a wise person who listens to the cries of animals for they live closer to the land.

  “What shall be done with the Off-worlder” the Handmaiden asked, and she turned her head to look at the injured man lying in the back of their wagon.

  “First we shall see if the Angel of Death has passed him by or later return for him” replied her mate. “He is young and strong, he will live” Kela said this with confidence for she had treated many wounded in her short life and always knew if their souls would be summoned to the Afterlife and even though the wounded man was not one of the Chosen her teachings had taught her that life holds tight to the young.

  Just then Jumo and Dalgar stopped suddenly and began to bark loudly bracing their clawed feet on the hard-packed dirt; they stood there with their huge heads low to the ground and nostrils flaring. Immediately the long column of Nomads and Sandjars halted their forward movements and waited for a signal from their leader.

  Anais sat quietly and reached out with his mind but he found no enemy only a strange feeling that something was different, after a few moments more he began to speak.

  “There is no enemy in the mist, but there is danger”.

  Knowing that her mate was never wrong about such things Kela called out to those behind her, “There is danger, be ready!”

  Now they waited.

  Endo did not have the power of the Blind-prince but he was a Sandjar and they were born with sharp senses and now his acute nose was telling him that the mist around them was hiding something from him so he pulled back his robe and tried as best he could to see what lay before him knowing that his vision was not meant for the bright light of day.

  Muscles tensed, keen eyes watched carefully and strong hands held weapons at the ready, then as Kela was about to signal that the way was clear a huge shadow began to move in the mist, slowly it came forward, slower than any charging Rimar or angry Thundra beast of the Outlands. Then the two Drogs raced forward and leaping high into the air they attacked!

  The warriors lifted their weapons and the Whiptails began to paw at the ground eager for battle, then a sudden wind blew through the mist revealing the attackers. Ax-breakers.

  These were not a small family group of the thick shelled beasts, these numbered in the hundreds, the adults were as tall as a Whiptail and had armored heads with jaws that could snap a Rimars leg with one bite, and their long tails ended in a club like growth that would smash a Trofars heavy skull in an instant.

  All Nomads knew that striking an Ax-breaker with a weapon was useless for their thick shells covered them from head to rear leaving only a small opening just behind their wide heads where a Tooth could bite. But never the less the two Drogs clamped their massive jaws on the oncoming creature and never let go.

  “Circle” Anais called out knowing that Ax-breakers were mostly docile creatures and would go around rather than confront an obstacle in their path.

  “Defensive circle!” Kela shouted to the warriors behind and they in turn called out to the Sandjars who’s Leader lifted his arm. “Defend the wagons” Endo cried and to some it would have seemed a strange command for a Sandjar would look out for himself rather than risk his life for the contents of a Karrack, but Endo knew what one of the wagons carried and to him it was worth the peril.

  But as the Tribe of Many formed themselves into a strong combat circle the lumbering Thundra beasts did not turn away, they continued forward in a straight line, grunting and snorting with their jaws snapping the air. The leading Ax-breaker showed no sign of slowing even with the two Drogs attached to his spiked shell, it moved to the Trofar pulling Anais and Kela’s wagon and tried to bite its thick leg, luckily the heavy jaws missed the appendage and the Trofar jerked to one side pulling the Karrack with him.

  “Hang on!” Kela screamed as the wagon began to tip but she pulled hard on the guide reins and the woode
n carrier righted itself without damage.

  The warriors would not stand idly by and see their leaders injured and although they knew that their weapons were meager in the face of the armored creatures of Isarie they shouted out their battle cries and fell upon the oncoming wall. Striking right and left the Nomads pounded the heavy armor of the Ax-breakers but they continued forward unharmed, now and then one of the Whiptails would slam his spiked tail against the thick plating of the turtle like beast but it did little damage and in return three of the two legged reptiles had their legs broken and fell to the ground leaving their riders to fight on foot. And fight they did for a Nomad never turned from a battle and fought with all the strength given to him by the Goddess, several of the frustrated Outlanders jumped on the backs of the hard-shelled beasts and hacked at their protective armor chipping away little by little until there was a small opening where their sharp weapons could bite.

  The Sandjars had no such weapons only spears and clubs and a few well-made knives for defense, but they followed the commands of their Coraw and did what they could to keep safe their wagons. Endo had learned from his days as a Scavenger that there was a weak spot just behind the head of an Ax-breaker so when one of the hulking beasts drew near his wagon he leaped high and landed on the wide head of the attacker and taking a spear he drove it with all his might into the thick neck and with a loud roar the creature fell to the ground dead.

  A great dust cloud began to rise as the Nomads and Sandjars continued to combat the huge herd of Ax-breakers, Anais and Kela maneuvered their wagon in and out of harm’s way and Dalgar and Jumo let go of their prey and returned to their masters where they howled and barked at any creature who threatened their owners.

  After some time and a hard fought battle the Ax-breakers went their way leaving their dead and wounded behind, the Outlanders also had casualties, two warriors were dead and many wounded, three Whiptails had to be destroyed for their wounds were too great to mend but the Nomads took the spikes on their tails so they could be made into dagger handles and their teeth would be worn as necklaces and their strength added to the strength of those who wore them. The dead warriors would be buried with honor and their journey nails driven deep into their hands to hold their weapons forever in the Afterlife and because they had died defending their tribe there would be a place of glory in the Golden Hall of Asarie.

  There was no glory for Ivar-Anoon for he had failed in his mission to secure a landing base in tactically areas around the broken city of Del-Godar, his command ship and three other were within acceptable distance from the pyramid complex but the crafts were heavily damaged and lifting off again was impossible. He also understood that his attack force had been greatly weakened and there would be no reinforcements until the erratic electromagnetic pulses could be categorized and windows for safe landings could be verified. But the General was a man who would never admit defeat so as the twin suns began to set he stood outside his command ship and surveyed the fortifications that were being put into place, they were weak by his standards for detection-fields and barrior-rims would not work at full strength and there were no hover-ships for patrolling, and adding to his difficulties was the problem with the blast-rifles for they were intact but some outside force was keeping them from fully charging. But he could still rely on his soldiers for they were highly skilled in hand to hand combat and each carried an old style projectile weapon, primitive but still deadly at close range.

  I am weak in power but strong in will he thought, and that was enough to satisfy him for the moment but soon he would need much more for he had studied the information about Gorn and its inhabitance and understood that soon his forces would be detected and then the battle would begin but that was not what he feared most. He had the utmost confidence in his warriors and in himself to overcome whatever was sent against him, no, what he was afraid of was the unseen defenders of this world, those microscopic creatures that invade the body without a wound and slowly sap the strength and leave death in their wake. The Plague.

  Once before he had encountered such a thing, it was on the Outer-Rim world known as Tartalus 7, he was only a third class captain then but he never forgot the screams of the dying and the look on their faces as their skin burst and their organs turned black and hard as stone. He was one of the lucky ones and escaped before they turned that planet into a smoldering ruin.

  I will win he told his mind, I will win because I am the strongest.

  And looking out from his vantage point he stood proud and tall and thought about the cheering that he would receive when he returned as a conquering hero.

  There was no cheering around the campfires of the Tribe of Many for they had buried their dead and preformed all the sacred rituals set down in the Book of Isaire. As they had no Holy Mother, it was left up to Kela to say the words that would guide the slain to their reward in the Afterlife. This she was proud to do and now she sat on a small stool beside their burning Washa and cleaned the wounds of Jumo and Delgar and sang them a song that her mother had sung to her.

 

  “The days are warm and the winds are caring.

  I will sing to you of kind hearts sharing.

  Come sit beside me and hold my hand.

  The nights are still and silent is the land.”

  Anais could also hear the soft words of his mate and it brought great comfort to know that he would not have to spend his life alone, then as she finished her song his mind returned to the events of the day and that troubled him.

  “Have you ever heard of Ax-breakers acting in such a way” he asked.

  “No, it was a very strange thing for them to do” she replied as she finished with their four legged guardians and stood up, “But I am not an Elder of the Outlands and know very little about the habits of Thundra beasts” then she moved to their wagon and drew back the woven coverings and looked down on the man lying there, “He said his name was Romar and he had lost something, I wonder what that could be?”

  “Come away from there” Anais said, “You have done all you can do, the rest is up to the Goddess”.

  “Perhaps you are right” Kela replied lowering the covering, she had prepared a cup of Po laced with a goodly amount of Grana, the green crystal that fended off the Plague and brought strength to those who consumed it, “In the thirty-nine Books of Wisdom it says that the strong should care for the weak”.

  Kela was referring to the Rimar bound books that the Norgonie had given them when they left the forest of Caltarine, they were indeed many wise words written in them and over the long cold nights of the last cycle the Handmaiden had read to her mate and he had listen with a close ear.

  “You are correct in your words” the Blind-prince said, “It also says that even the weak can destroy the strong if the Gods will it”.

  Kela opened a bulky clay pot sitting beside their wagon and pulled out two very large cuts of Rimar meat and tossed them to their hungry guardians who began to devourer them with growls and grunts.

  “You are a wise man” the Handmaiden said, then she drew close to her mate and put her head on his shoulder, “Do you love me?” she asked.

  This made Anais laugh, “Of course, but do not feed the Drogs so much”.

  Kela smiled and pulled her mate to the ground and began kissing him like a first cycle maiden but Delgar and Jumo were too busy eating to notice.

  “Come and eat” Rawma called out seeing her mate standing near their carry wagon, “I have prepared your favorite” and indeed she had for a plate sat near their fire overflowing with choice cuts of Rimar meat, warm Kasha bread and the intestines from a Borrow-baby, ordinarily a Sandjar would not cook their food for a fire would give away their location and other of their kind might come and take what they had, but there was no chance of that happening for no Scavenger would dare attack a tribe of Nomads.

  Endo did not hear the words of his mate for he was too focused on the contents of the Karack for it was full of the Blast-rifles that he had found in the crashed
warship, they cannot destroy but there is still real power here he thought, and power was something that Endo wanted very much, it was true that he was the Coraw of his people but a small group of Sandjars could hardly be called powerful. I was a slave once, and never again, and he thought back on his time in the Eul mines of the Norgonie, the pain and suffering at their hands and he vowed that it would never happen to the ones he loved.

  “Come and eat!” Rawna called out once more.

  And this time Endo heard her words and pulling the cover over the weapons of war he moved close to the fire and began to chew on the succulent meat that had been prepared for him.

 

  Chapter 15.

  Friend or Enemy.

  Those that were once your friend can become your enemy, those that were your enemy can become your friend; they need only time to change their faces.

  From the Book of Isarie.