Osh put down his tool and looked up at his son, “you wish to speak to those in the future?’ he asked with a smile.
The young boy nodded his head, My son wishes to record his mind Osh told himself, he has grown not only in body but also in mind, “Very well” the old man said, “sit down next to me and we shall begin”.
The Sandjar sat down on a holding barrel near his father and it was plain to see that he was eager to begin.
The old man cleared his throat then sat up straight in is chair; “well the first thing to know is that there are seven hundred and thirty nine letters making up the Calaxion alphabet, the first sets of letters are only used when referring to a male of a species and they are called kronos letters” and he began marking the letters on the parchment, “the letters are divided into those made by the left hand and those made by the right and they should always.......”
At that moment the young Sandjar began to regret his decision to know how to write and longed for the days when he could run without care over the green fields of Darmock.
Kuno the Captain of the Spikebacks poured water over his great head trying to remove the grogginess that had been caused by last night’s drinking. As the cold water began to do its work his thoughts cleared some and he could vaguely remember a woman and a large tankard of well-aged Po, then as his mind-webbing fell away he also remembered that there might have been more than one woman? A few more pouring of water over his head and he felt that he was ready to remember more.
Kuno was well liked by most of the tribe, for he was strong and brave and had helped in the defeat of the Talsonar at the Heart of Shawcona. He had stood beside the King and fought with all his strength and did not run from the arrows of the Shadowmen or the chamber rifles of the Hal-Jafar. Yes buy all the standards of the Outlands he was a mighty warrior. But for all his strength he had his weakness. He could never refuse a cup of Po or the warm embrace of a strong woman, which of these was foremost in his mind he could not tell for they both were as powerful as any mood drug of the city people.
Now he turned away from the washing bin that was sitting on a rock near his tent and moved to a large fire where many other warriors were eating the morning meal. He went to the roasting spit and tore a hunk of Rimar meat from its hook and sank his teeth into the succulent meat. As he began to chew one of the warriors, a tall man by the name of Hargo began to taunt him.
“So tell me my captain, did you win the battle in your tent last night?” when the warrior spoke these words the other around the fire began to laugh and shake their heads. For the sound of mating could be clearly heard over most of the camp the night before. To most of the tribe it meant nothing for the Nomads did not look down on pleasures of the flesh but some of the Elders thought it was taking the gift of the Gods and squandering it on a passing embrace. But Kuno was use to the disapproving looks of the tribe, for he had been mated several times and then left alone in his tent when the women that had trusted him found his armor in the tents of other ladies of the tribe.
Kuno heard the words of the warrior clearly but said nothing and continued to chew.
“Perhaps you do not remember if you had a victory or a defeat?” Hargo continued after hearing no response from the big man.
This made the warriors laugh harder.
A few moments later Kuno swallowed his food then washed it down with a mouthful of Pol. Then wiping his face with the back of his large hand he smiled at Hargo, “it was a great victory my questioning friend, and if you doubt my words ask your sister, she was there on the battleground”.
These words made Hargo rise to his feet with his war-ax clutched firmly in his hand, “you say that my sister was in your tent? You will pay for that insult!”
With a wild scream the man raced for Kuno, but the big man moved swiftly and the attackers weapon struck only empty air, then as he turned to strike again, the Captain put out his heavy foot so that it tripped Hargo and sent him tumbling to the ground.
Before he could rise to his feet Kuno took his tankard of Po and poured it over his face, this caused more laughter from the warriors and much clapping of hands. As Hargo sputtered and spit the sour wine from his mouth Kuno reached down and offered his hand to him.
“A waste of good Po if you ask me” he said with a smile, “perhaps I was mistaken in saying it was your sister”.
Hearing these words seem to soften the resolve of the fallen warrior, he took the captains hand and was pulled to his feet again. He dusted himself off and looked the big man in the eye, “very well, but if you mention my sister again I will cut out your heart!”
Kuno smiled at him, “spoken like a true warrior of the Almadra, come let me fill your bowl with fresh Rimar meat”.
And slapping the warrior on the back they both moved to the fire and there the Spikeback leader took a large cut of well-cooked meat and put it into a bowl for his companion. Hargo took the offering and sat down on a rock and began to eat again. Kuno poured more Po into his tankard and took a long slow gulp of the sour wine.
“Warrior should not fight among themselves” he said, “There are enough enemies to dull our blades without having to turn on each other”. These words made the other warriors grunt in approval, “Besides” the captain continue “I was wrong when I said that it was your sister that had shared my tent last night”.
Hargo turned to the big man with a smile, “very well, I accept your mistake” he said holding up his cup “to Kuno, a man of strength, bravery and truth!”
The warriors echoed that praise.
“To Kuno, a man among men!” they shouted.
The words filled the air in a joyous chorus. Then there was quiet as the men and women returned to their food and drink.
After a time Kuno spoke again, “yes, I was mistaken about your sister” he said quietly, “I now remember it was your mother!”
Hearing this comment Hargo threw down his bowl and fell upon the Captain with a curse. But there was no cry to kill from those who watched the battle for everyone knew it was only a joke on the side of Kuno. And after their fight was finished and both of them had spent there fury they would be eating and drinking and arguing about whom had landed the most blows or drawn the most blood. Then after several more tankards of Po all would be forgotten and they would be laughing at themselves like brothers.
It was the way of the Outlanders, for they knew that if there was a need to fight they would stand together, brothers and sister against a common foe, and if need be they would die together, never turning away or asking for mercy, for they were one with the land and nothing would ever change that.
Chapter 6.
Flesh and Steel.
Steel can be broken.
Flesh cannot.
Old Outlander saying.
How long the Darkman lay unconscious was not known for time itself seemed to change when in the presence of the Orb.
Maybe it was the poly-gromite shielding or perhaps the meta-fluxing organic supply conduits that ran from the housing sphere like the tentacles of a grip-squid, or it might be the power of the Orb itself. But whatever the reason the Shadowman had no inkling that any time at all had passed as he opened his eyes.
He lay there for a few moments trying to understand where he was and why? He could not see the sky or the stars so he did not know if it was day or night, and there was no wind or smell so he could not decide what time of cycle it was. As he touched the ground it was not earth under his fingers but a metal flooring that was cold and uncaring. All this frightened him as he sat up and looked around him. Then he remembered what had happened.
The voice, he remembered, the voice calling for me to help it, as his vision cleared he look to see a great glowing orb hanging some distance from him supported by tentacles and strands of what looked like webbing? Then he remembered the falling lightship and the power that pulled him like a wagon pulled by a trofar.
He stood up and faced the glowing orb, he had never seen such a thing as this, it was unlike
any creature of Outland or legend, and it hung in the air supported by tentacles that reminded the Shadowman of the Earthshakers of the Greenlands. But looking at the glowing sphere he knew that this was not a beast known to any lands of Gorn, this thing could only live in the dark reassess of nightmares.
Seeing such a thing would have made most Nomads turn away and it surely would have brought terror to the hearts of the people of the Stone Cities. But the Darkman had grown use to seeing horrors from the dark pit and he did not turn away although there was still terror in his heart. Rather he stood looking at the strange site before him and wondered.
Have I gone mad, is this the Afterlife and the God that rules over it? But he knew that the God of the underworld had a body of fire and a face of molten rock so this could not be that God. This thing pulsated and moved in its moonlike home like a water snail or ocean floater, it had no eyes or mouth or face of any kind.
How does it see or hear, he asked himself, what food does it eat? But knowing that there was no mouth made the Shadowman feel a little less frightened because this thing would not eat him, and after trying to fit a name with the monster before him he finally gave up.
“What are you?” he asked.
For a moment there was no reply, and then before the Darkman could ask again the Orb spoke.
“What are you?” it asked, and this time the words did not cut his brain.
Looking at the orb the Shadowman could only think that this thing had once indeed been a God, there could be no other explanation, only a God could speak to his mind, only a God could make him move when he did not want too. And only a God could speak without a body or a mouth. This God must have been cast out of the heavens, cast out like I once was. And although there was much terror in his heart he tried not to show it, I will hide my fear.
The Darkman pulled himself up a straight as he could and spoke in a loud clear voice. “I am the leader of the people of the darkness, I should have been ruler of all the Outlands but I failed”, for a moment he remembered the days passed and the defeat at the hands of the Nomads. “But I will return and on that day all will be war!”
The word “war” made the orb glow brighter; “you want war?” it asked.
The Shadowman moved a bit closer to the glowing sphere, “war is what I always want, a war to end the pain of existence”. He held up his withered arm, “look at what I have become, look at what my life has become, I am a eater of carrion, a scavenger of the dead”, he moved closer still, “being a God can you not grant my wish and end my pain?”
The Orb did not speak.
He is testing me, the Darkman thought he is seeing if I know the ways of the Gods; “a God can grant prayers or ignore them. He can create and destroy, he can move through the heavens and all things will fear him, he is the bringer of life and death”.
The Orb heard his words; it knew what a God was for it had knowledge of such things but it never thought of itself as being a deity. Its existence was one of warfare and killing, to destroy and bring death to all it encountered, it had been programmed that way and there was no need to understand more. For hundreds of cycles it had accepted that fact as the basis of all truth and calculations, and it had been enough to allow it to exterminate whole planets and civilizations and to ignore the pleas from its victims for mercy, but now there was something more, something that it never had thought of being.
A God.
But that still did not ease the thoughts of the Orb, it still longed for and ending.
Again the Orb spoke to the mind of the Shadowman, “I wish to die, can you grant my request?”
When the Darkman heard those words he did not understand, Gods cannot die...can they? Once more he moved closer to the Orb, “only a God can kill a God,” he said, “I am not a God so I cannot grant your wish, I am flesh and blood so I can die, will you end my pain?”
“Why do you wish to die?” the voice asked.
The Shadowman stood looking at the sphere, “look at me, look what your kind has done to me, you made me like this, now end my pain!”
The light from the Orb flickered, the Shadowman was not aware that the sphere was scanning him, in an instance it realized the extent of the creature’s damages. It knew the broken bones and torn flesh, it understood the poisonings that were rotting the skin and slowly corroding the internal organs, it formulated the minerals and all the other bits and pieces of the two-legged thing into a diagram of information, concise, without error, now it understood. Then it asked a question.
“Why do you not repair the damage to your body?”
“I cannot,” the Darkman said, “only a God can do that”.
Again there was a pause, and again the Orb spoke, “if you were repaired what would you do?”
There was no hesitation from the Shadowman, “I would bring war to all the lands and destroy all that stood before me”.
Another pause.
The great Orb let the word “War” echo again and again in its mind, the programming that had been fixed into its being now begun to take control once more. The endless cycles of wanting to die now moved away from the light in its thoughts to a dark place that did not cause pain. Now it turned to the calculations and diagrams that were once its entire world, it only took seconds to weigh all the alternatives of loss and gain before it formulated a plan to continue its primary objective.
Seek out the enemy and destroy it!
“I will repair you” it said.
For a moment the Darkman thought the words he heard in his head were a mistake, but before he could ask if he had understood correctly he heard a sound from the dark corners of the chamber he stood in.
As he watched he saw movement in the darkness, something was stirring; something approaching that had been silent until now. Then as his eyes widened he saw strange creatures moving without feet or legs for that matter, as they came into the light he thought he had gone mad for they were not things of flesh and bone nor did they have eyes or mouths or legs. These things were made of steel and moved on small metal wheels like the toy wagons that the children of the Outlands play with and instead of two arms they each had several. A dozen or more of the strange beings moved nearer the Darkman and he suddenly knew that they were the tenders of the glowing God.
The Shadowman wanted to flee but he held his ground, he knew that one could not run from a God, there was no place to hide and no escape, so he stood there and looked at the things coming nearer and then at the shining God before him.
“What are you going to do?” he asked the God.
“I will take what is weak and make it strong”, the God replied.
Then the metal Repairbots took the human and began to do what they were programmed to do.
First they removed the his left arm at the elbow and sealed the arteries with bounding fluid, they then selected the most useful nerve ending and attached connoflex terminals to their ends. When this was done they began work on the right leg of the human. They scanned the appendage and determined the best place to sever the bone and flesh, it was decided that most of the leg would not be useful so they removed it and again sealed the arteries with connoflexing. From there they checked all the other parts that might need repairing and decided that the right eye of the creature was substandard and proceeded to replace it with an ocular-vision interface. This would enhance his vision a dozen fold and also give him interceller scanning. At one time the heart functions of the creature terminated but they were able to restart the fluid pump and the life force returned.
Repairbots are efficient and skilled, they can work on massive equipment like the transverse drive engines or intermaster coupling units, but they could also replace a single matrix bit when called upon. They used advanced imaging circuitry and were able to see down to a point one-nine level, which was enough to see a single molecule if need be. The ends of their tentacles were built to do the finest of work and pick up a grain of sand if their programs told them to do so. But what they did not have was hearing, there w
as no need for that, all information could be transferred to them by direct input or internship communications so being able to hear sounds was not necessary.
And so they did not hear the screams from the human as he was cut and pulled apart like a Whiptail pulls open his kill, they did not hear his please for mercy and cries to the heavens to end his pain. They did not understand the many curses and vile uttering that escaped his gasping mouth, they ignored the blood because they could replace it with a more efficient fluid that they used for organic processing. And it did not matter if they damaged an organ or muscle for they could replace it with intersturture processors. No, all the screams did not matter, they were cries in the winds of a power storm, so they went about their work and did not finish till they had replaced every damaged part and all that was weak was made strong.
Again time meant nothing to the Darkman as he opened his eyes, this time he saw the world much different, for although he could see clearly from his left eye his right seemed to be different? The images he saw were like nothing he had seen before, things were seen of course but now they were in such detail that he could hardly understand why he did not see them before. He looked at one of the small Repairbots
Why have I not noticed the intricate surface on that metal creature, he asked himself, the surface has so many small scratches and tiny imperfections?
He slowly stood up and to his amazement the pain in his right leg was gone? The sharp stabbing that had been there before had vanished; it now felt strong and able to hold his weight and much more.
There is no more pain? The thought of moving without suffering made him smile.
He lifted up his left arm.
It now moved with ease and felt even stronger, the Darkman looked at the long metal fingers as he opened and closed them slowly.
I have a new arm, he told himself, I can once more crush my enemies.
The Fallen God Page 9