Nomads The Risen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Like the Nomads the Akuna had no slaves or servants, each man or woman cared for themselves but unlike the Outlanders the Sea-people did not mate for life, they chose their companions when the cycle turned warm but most selected another when the cold time began. And even if they did have a mate by their side for producing an offspring that did not hamper them from laying with another for pleasure, of course this was a sin to the Elders of the Nomads and they positioned their Karacks far from the domes in a safe place where they did not have to listen to the music and hear the laughter of immorality, but from time to time many of the old would come close and hearing the merriment they would remember with sad hearts when they were young and strong and danced away the night with no thoughts of sin or modesty.

  “Will you join me in a toast Cian of the Akuna?” Arn said as he lifted his golden cup to his host, it was easy to see that the King had drunk deeply of the wine and was feeling very content.

  “What shall we drink too?” replied the Kandrac of the Wave-riders, Cian had also dived deep into the Dral but after all it was a celebration and a perfect time to test one’s fortitude against the fermented brain-clouder.

  Andra had also finished several cups of the stout brew but she was always a strong drinker and always the last one standing when her old platoon celebrated a victory, “I say we drink to warm nights and a warm sea” she called out lifting her mug. This made Cian smile, “You are a wise woman Andra of the Almadra, and your beauty matches your mind”, she does not have the markings of the sea but she is still beautiful.

  If the King had heard those words from one of his warriors he would have struck the man for disrespecting their leaders mate but these were the Akuna and a certain amount of lea way was granted to them, still it did sting a bit in Arn’s heart.

  “Very well” the King replied, “To warm nights and a warm sea” and lifting his cup he gulped down what was left of his Dral.

  As Andra listened to the hypnotic music and watched the practiced dancers she gazed about her and wherever she looked she saw only loveliness, the high walls of the dome were rich in color and the ribs of giant sea creatures were used as support beams, in the center of the chamber was a star shaped pool filled with sea water and in that water were smoothly carved rocks that resembled strange sea monsters and each statue held a naked Akuna of both sexes and seeing them holding each other tightly made the Dral drenched blood in Andra’s veins flow hot and fast.

  The blood in Kuno’s veins always burned with he was near a willing female and seeing so many opportunities around him his head spun like a Wind-whirl of the Outlands, add to that the large amount of Dral he had consumed and it was easy to see that the big Nomad was feeling very content.

  Kalgar-Rune was not one of the revelers that night for the Holy Wagon was not placed near the domes of the Akuna, the great Karack was some distance away and surrounded by the Thungodra who plugged their ears with Bark-bee wax lease they hear the lilting melodies and forget their vows of chastity, but never the less Kalgar sat away from his warriors and this night his ears were open.

  Blasphemy he thought, they are not true followers of the Goddess for they allow their bodies to control their souls, and lifting his heavy ax he brought it down hard on the soft ground, “the tribe has forgotten the ways of Isarie, something has made the Goddess turn away from us” he said softly. He continued to beat his Tooth on the ground and with each stroke his anger grew more and more because with each strike a vision of the Holy Mother flashed in his mind, “something evil has come to us”. Then an echo spoke to him, “She is your enemy” it said.

  For a moment, the Thungodra leader thought someone had called out to him, “Who speaks?” he asked, but there was not reply then a sudden thought replaced the face of Egmar, no, not something…someone! and then all became clear, “The pale girl, she is not one of us”, of course, how could he have been so foolish, the strange young girl who walks in the night and who’s eyes are cold as stone, she must be the one, the evil one! She must be the demon responsible for his sinful thoughts, destroy her and all will be as it was. But the King had commanded that no harm should come to her and a warrior does not go against the words of the King, if that were done he would have to challenge him for leadership and if he lost he would die.

  “Am I not a Thungodra, a warrior in the service of Isarie?” he asked his mind and standing up he began to pace back and forth like a caged Sagar-cat and gripped his ax with a force that would break a man’s neck, “and the words of the Goddess are surely above the words of the King are they not?”. He stopped and looked at the great dome and thought of those inside, “They are all sinners in the eyes of Isarie”. And he listened to the soft music in the warm night air, “They dance and sing when they should be praying”, and he smelled the sweet fragrance of food and flesh, “they feast when they should be fasting, they embrace when they should be on their knees praying for the Goddess to forgive them”. It was clear to him now, he must save his people, he must show them the way back to the Goddess, he must do this no matter what the price and lifting his ax he brought it down on a small water keg near him shattering it into fragments and those that will not listen will be destroyed.

  Egmar also heard the rhythmic music but she did not turn away for she remembered when she was young and strong and one of the naked dancers in the great dome.

  So long ago she thought as she sat quietly in her chamber inside the great wagon, the air carried the scent of love and it mixed with the sweet fragrance of the Deep-root tea that she had been sipping, at this time of night she would have been sleeping soundly in her bed but slumber had eluded her for her head was filled with memories. She closed her eyes and let the night carry her to a place in her mind that lately had been calling to her. She was a young girl once more, alive and filled with the energy of youth; she ran along the sand and felt the sea wind in her tangled hair, there were no weighted thoughts of Gods or Demons, no life burden upon her strong sun browned shoulders, no responsibilities for the souls of others. There was only freedom.

  Freedom to swim in the water and feel the gentle caress of the soft sea, to laugh at nothing and sing when there was no music playing, to shout your anger and cry your pain, to question, to hold or let go, to be what you will be. But that was gone now, she was the Holy Mother of the Almadra and all looked to her for guidance in time of need. Suddenly the room seemed very small and the air heavy in the lungs, but it was the same room, the same air as before? And to make herself feel better she moved to the large carved wooden box at the foot of her bed, the Ancestor-chest that all Nomads kept in their wagons and filled with the objects of those who came before them, she ran her wrinkled hands over the ornate lid then lifting it she looked inside. There she found items that her mother and others of her family had placed there for safe keeping, there were rings and bracelets made of fine gold and silver, a highly prized necklace of Sagar cat teeth and a small wooden toy that had value only to the child who once held it. Then Egmar found what she was looking for, the small silver bell and chain that was given to her by her mate, Karn the great King of the Almadra and father of her children, she put the trinket away when she left the forests of the Norgonie but now she wished to hang it around her neck once more and taking it in her hands she placed it so it rested on her chest.

  “Ting, ting” the tiny bell sounded and hearing its sweet music once more lifted the veil of sadness from her mind, but only for a moment. She glanced at the metal head sitting on the pedestal in the corner of her chamber, the severed head of her forgotten son, looking at it brought a strange sensation to her mind, the cold steel lips did not move but she heard a faint whispering in her ear. “You betrayed her” it spoke.

  Who speaks?” she asked but of course there was no one to reply. You betrayed her the words echoed in her mind over and over, “I was so young, I was in love” but the words cut deep into her heart and suddenly the chamber felt even smaller and the air turned to a foul vapor and standing up she drew on a simpl
e Handmaidens robe and pulled up the cowl so that it covered her face, she moved to the metal head and looked once more into its vacant eyes.

  “I am sorry for your pain but you are dead now and the dead must rest”, and taking the metallic head, she wrapped it in a table covering and tucked it under her arm then checking to see if she was noticed she left her chamber and proceeded down the corridor that led to the open air. Twice she was seen but with the robe and head covering the servants of Isarie thought she was one of them and paid her no heed. She moved quickly through the large gathering room where a delicately fashioned golden statue of the Goddess stood flickering in the light from a large brassier of Eul and a young Handmaiden who prayed day and night and made sure that the sacred fire was kept burning, then stopping only once to bow her head to a symbol of the Goddess she passed by the two Thungodra warriors who kept watch at the entrance and disappeared into the night.

  Osh also heard the music but unlike the Nomads it had no effect on him save for the fact that it was very much like the ancient melodies of the Zagnadars, a people that did not have a written language but recorded their thoughts and history in musical notations.

  “I wonder if the Akuna realize that any music scholar of the Outer Rim would pay dearly for their compositions”, Osh had very little musical abilities, just enough to access information that was recorded in lyrical form rather than the usual Mind-say that was the common transfer of data used by Callaxions. “The Akuna care nothing for wealth” Alune replied, “They live as the live but when they die they will not sit in the Golden Hall beside the Goddess for they live by sin”.

  “There are many Gods in the Outer Rim and what is a sin to one is a virtue to another” the old man said as he sat beside their Washa and once more scribbled on a Rimar scroll. “Take for example the rituals of the Corcorians, their many armed God demands that all young females take at least one…”

  “There is only one true God and her name is Isarie, all others live in her shadow”, the old Touchtender said this with certainty and the look in her eyes as she washed the platters from the evening meal told her companion that she was in no mood for a religious debate. Seeing this the Callaxion put away his writing instruments and lifted his hands to warm them by the clay cooking stove.

  Finishing her work Alune came near him and took his bandaged appendage in hers, “How does your hand feel?” she asked as she touched each nail less finger carefully.

  “Much better” Osh replied. The Touchtender slowly removed the thin bandage and seeing the results of her restorative medicines she smiled, “Your hand is healed” she proclaimed and it was easy to see that she was proud of her work. The old man wiggled his thin fingers and looked at each closely, “not a sign of a scar and there was never any pain”. “Of course not” Alune said, “the juice of Rockworms takes all discomfort away and Grana will heal all, it is the gift of the Goddess”. Indeed, Grana was a miracle but Osh understood that the green salt was a complex gathering of minerals and organic matter rather than a divine offering of some all-powerful deity, “the Nomads trade Stone-bread to the Ergan-Mar for their supply of Grana, do the Akuna trade with us for theirs?”

  “Certainly not” the Touchtender said as she took out a needle and thread from a small box at her feet and began mending a rip in her winter robe, “the Sea-people cannot consume our Grana, they are different from us, we are the Chosen, they are not”.

  Osh knew that that was not all together true for there were many genetic similarities between the Akuna and the Outlanders and they surely must have come from the same basic species but the Callaxion was not about to engage in an evolutionary debate with his companion. But he also knew that every creature on Gorn needed Grana in some form or another, the Norgonie found it in Troca, the forest worms that they consumed with gusto at their meals, but Osh saw no such worms in his preliminary investigation of the landscape.

  “If the Akuna do not trade for Grana where does it come from?” the old man asked.

  “From the sea” Alune said as she stitched her garment, “from the sea”.

  The night moons were bright as Egmar stood on a rocky cliff near the edge of the quite lagoon, a soft wind blew and the air was sweet with the scent of night bloomers and lands that never knew the foot of Outlanders. Looking down the Holy Mother saw a small cluster of Moonbuds, the delicate white flower whose thorns can bring pain and death.

  “I will not trample on you” she said as if the blossoms could understand her words, “Although you are small and your touch is deadly you are a gift of Isarie” so stepping lightly she moved further down the sandy path to a small lagoon surrounded by beautifully carved figurine rocks and a small open place just an arm’s length above the lapping water, it was a place that she knew well for she use to sit there on warm nights and listen to the waves and dream the dreams of all young girls who wish to feel the touch of a man. She placed the cloth wrapped burden she carried beside her and sat down on a flat rock near the water’s edge. “So long ago” she whispered, “So many cycles” and looking down into the water she saw a reflection, the face she saw was not the one she remembered, it was old and scarred from the days of her life and she wanted to turn away and run back to the comfort of her chamber for memories can be cruel and the water of the sea unforgiving, but looking back she saw her eyes, the eyes that had seen the horrors of war and the deaths of her children and they had not changed, they were still mirrors of hope.

  And suddenly her mind returned to long ago when she was just a girl in love. She closed her eyes and saw the face of her lover and for her the dream became real.

  “Why do you resist my love?” Karn spoke like any other young warrior of the Outlands whose heart was filled with longing.

  “I cannot love you” Egmar replied sadly, “you are chosen by another”.

  “Someday I will be King of the Almadra and I will need a strong mate at my side” they young prince said.

  “Dennor is strong and she will make a strong queen”.

  “Dennor is strong of body but her heart is weak”.

  Egmar knew that Karn’s words where true for she grew up with her older sister and accepted the fact that her heart was torn between love and hate, but looking into the eyes of the young prince she was helpless to speak the truth about her feelings.

  “Karn my love, I…I…” Then a voice spoke and the dream was ended.

  “My sister?” the voice spoke softly.

  Rising to her feet the Holy Mother turned and before her was the sister she left behind, she wore a simple robe and her hair was elaborately woven with sea shells and silver wire as was her style from long ago.

  “Dennor?” Egmar’s voice was loving as it should be but behind that love was a shadow of something more for looking at her sister she saw a face that bore very little markings of the past cycles, the eyes were bright and the body still strong and unlike her Dennor still bore all the feature of a true Akuna, the skin colorings and the gill slits at the neck.

  “Yes it is me”, the woman said, “It is your sister from long ago”.

  Coming closer Egmar held out her arms and wrapped them around the woman from her past, they stood there in the moonlight and time seemed to stand still, then they parted.

  The Holy Mothers eyes were wet with tears of joy but as Egmar looked into the eyes of her sister she saw they were not, “are you not glad to see me sister?” she asked.

  Slowly a smile pulled at the lips of Dennor, “of course sister, all is forgiven, you could not help taking Karn away from me, it was the will of your Goddess Isarie as you must surly know”.

  “Yes, yes the will of the Goddess” but as she said those words Egmar felt something tug at her heart, she speaks of forgiveness but does she speak the truth?

  The Holy Mother watched her sister walk to the edge of the water and look out over the sea, “after you left us I traveled to the south and there I made a home for myself but always I heard the stories of the great Almadra and their wanderings in the Out
lands, and so when I heard that the tribe was returning to the land of the Sea-people with a new Holy Mother whose name was Egmar I came knowing that you would be here”. Egmar listened to the words of her sister and smiled, “over the cycles I have thought of you many times and prayed that you would be safe, I am content now knowing that my prayers were answered”.

  Looking back at her sister Dennor put a hand to her mouth as if thinking, “but is it not strange that your Goddess answered your prayers while mine went unheeded?” for a moment there was a hard look in the eyes of the woman then it vanished like the morning mist, “but now is not the time to question which is more powerful, Isarie or Dietas”.

  Egmar did not speak for the words from her sister were not like the ones she had spoken when they were children, back then Dennor was wild and free like her and they thought very little of the Gods and their ways. The Holy Mother watched as her sister picked up the bundle of cloth lying on the sandy ground.

  “What have you brought to the sea, an offering to the water Goddess?” Dennor asked.

  Egmar quickly took the wrapping from her hand, “Yes” she said nervously, “It is a gift that I was going to toss to the waves”.

  Before she could stop her Dennor grabbed the bundle from her hands, “Here let me help you” and she flung the hidden head into the water. Egmar stood and watched the last fragment of her lost son vanish beneath the surface.

  Good bye my son she thought, and then turned to her sister who smiled at her, “Thank you sister, now will you come with me and share a cup of Deep-root tea in my chamber?”

  “No” Dennor said, “The night is growing late and I must sleep but I will see you again soon”, and reaching over she kissed her sister on the forehead then began walking away. She had taken only a few steps when she turned and spoke once more, “It is hard to lose a son, is it not?” then smiling she vanished into the night.

  Egmar stood there for a time looking out to sea then she slowly walked back to the Holy Wagon, passed the guards and the statue of the Goddess and into her chamber, she removed her robe and sat down on her bed closed her eyes and uttered a short prayer to Isarie.

  “Forgive me oh Goddess, forgive my weakness and grant peace to my forgotten son”.

  When she opened them again she saw the metallic head of her lost child sitting on its pedestal once more.

 

  Chapter 16.

  Life and Death.

  Beating drums and warriors cry.

  Smoke and fire in morning sky.

  Steel on steel and warriors Tooth.

  Life and Death are the only truths.

  Old Nomad saying.