He slowly began to walk about the chamber, the small Repairbots moved away from him and all but one returned to the darkness. The Darkman moved with hesitance steps for he was not use to the freedom that his new appendages granted him. And more than once he fell to the chamber floor, but gathered himself up again and soon he was walking with ease and confidence.
I am reborn, he told himself, this God has done what the crystal spiders could not and hearing his mind say these words he laughed.
Hearing the sound from the human the Orb reacted, “what is that sound?” it asked.
With more laughter the Darkman looked at the glowing sphere, “it is the sound of my birth, I am whole once more”, there was more laughter as the Shadowman lifted up his arms and clutched his fists, “thank you my God, thank you for giving me new life”. Then he moved closer to the light, “I am your servant, if you asked I will build a great temple and lay offerings before you. All the people of the Outlands will know you and I will sacrifice in your honor. Your altar will run with blood, and they will tremble at the mention of your name. All this and more I will do”.
He fell upon his knees and bowed his head to his new master.
For a moment there was silence in the chamber, the Darkman looked up at the Orb once more, “tell me your name so that I can tell of your coming”.
A name meant nothing to the glowing sphere, for it was not important to the running of the M-91, it was simply the organic reactive brain or ORB. A mass of complex of materials and Electro-chemicals that gave it the power to calculate and interact with other life forms, but it never had a name, this made the Orb think.
It thought about what it had been programmed for, to seek out the enemy and destroy it, to eliminate all oppositions and opposing forces until there was only victory, it had done this to the best of its abilities before it was defeated, then came the long waiting in the fiery home of the great star Procus, its reemergence out into the stars again. Its fall from the heavens to its final-resting place here on an empty world filled with broken men and machines.
For an instance its mind turn once more to the image of the human holding that strange little creature in its arms, and it wondered once more on what the meaning of it meant.
What was that creature? It asked.
But like a flash of lighting in a Power Storm it vanished and once more the Orb returned to the question of the Shadowman.
Its name.
But the sphere again had no answer, it had knowledge of several thousand languages of the Outer Rim, it needed this to understand its enemies and to formulate the best way to defeat them, and it knew the core words that the human was speaking but it needed more. So it scanned all the information that it had obtained when it Mind-locked with the human, much of it was rejected as worthless and deleted from its thoughts. But it did retain the entire brain-wording in the language of the human and it now searched through those verbal utterings to find a name that suited it. After rejecting several possible outcomes it finally decided on a name that best suited it.
“I am Atos”
The name made the Darkman smile once again, Atos, the God of war; he rose to his feet and held up his metal arm to his new God. “I will serve you Atos, I will be yours till all the lands run with blood and the very stars tremble at your name”.
And again there was laughter in the chamber, for the Shadowman knew that the God of war had a thirst that could never be quenched. An ocean of blood could fill the cup of the war God and it still would not be enough, and knowing this made the heart of the Darkman content.
The Orb listened to the laughter of the human; it had no heart so it did not feel contentment but knowing that it could once more bring death and destruction made it forget its loneliness and longing to die. It now had a purpose, a new command that would let it continue to follow its primary function, by what name it followed those commands did not matter, it would use all its vast knowledge and destructive programs to make the words of the Cyberman come true.
Far from the laughter of the fallen terror ship, deep within the depths of the planet a creature stirred, to say it was a God would have been true to most of the people of the Outlands for it could bring death and life. It lived deep in the darkness of Gorn and was its protector, for its mind was powerful enough to shield its home from all technologies of the other planets. It was why no advanced machinery could work on the surface of this world, it was why no Off-Worlder was able to walk the lands of the Nomads without becoming lost, and it was the reason that the moons drifted above.
It also had no name for it had not needed one, it lived unseen deep within Gorn sense it first broke free from the genetic laboratories of the Overlords, the all-powerful but now forgotten race that first set foot on this world.
It took refuse in the dark reaches and there it grew and expanded until it was as vast as its home, it had lived in the darkness for centuries upon centuries, unchallenged and safe.
But now an intruder had come to its world.
What thoughts ran through its endless mind we could not know for those that live in the sunlight are like ants to an Earthshaker. We can only say it was unable to stop the power of the interloper.
There are those who could explain the advanced shield of poly-gromite bonds and tripled fazic coating that protected the fallen battleship from the Electro-magnetic waves that would have rendered it useless but it did not matter.
All that needed to be understood is that for the first time in millenniums an advanced machine was working in the Outlands, a creature of steel and flesh that would soon bring terror and death to the Nomads of Gorn.
Chapter 7.
The Path of Pain.
Any Nomad who does not defend his people will be punished.
That warrior will walk the gauntlet and feel the pain of their misdeed.
The laws of the Almadra.
When Sunbirth broke over the oasis the Almadra found that one of their warriors had not been at his post during the night, his name was Thorm, and he had just begun to be a warrior. He was tall and would have been looked upon with favor by any female of the Nomads, and that was his downfall for he had caught the eye of one of the maidens of his tribe, a girl by the name of Teal. She offered to share her tent with him on any occasion he requested, so when the time came for him to stand guard his body had forsaken his mind and he left his post to spend the night with the comely maiden. But after more than one embrace he fell asleep in the girl’s arms and did not wake till the Suns had risen and the warriors gathered for the morning meal. It was at that time that Kuno went looking for the young lad and found him naked in the tent of Teal but with a smile on his pleasing face.
Now Kuno knew full well the power of a pretty countenance. It had cost him the loss of both his previous mates; he also knew that the young man had just entered his first cycle as a warrior, and that someday he would become a strong defender of the tribe. But after much soul searching he told himself that his absence from his duty had to be reported to the King and the young lad punished. It was a hard choice but it was the right one, now he stood outside the tent of the leader and spoke of what he had seen, then waited for Arn to reply.
Arn looked down at the ground and did not speak for a time, he tried to think of some way that the young warrior could evade the punishment that was demanded by the laws of the tribe, for he knew the power of the heart.
I once betrayed my tribe for a girl, he told himself remembering the decision to become an Outcast rather than fight his brother over the love of Andra, but try as he might there could only be one outcome. He looked up at the big man by his side, “tell the people to prepare for korath enargo”.
The Captain of the Spikbacks wanted to say something, something that might sway the decision but he could not, so he bowed slightly and spoke the only words he could, “it will be done” then turned and left the side of his king.
As he moved away Andra walked from the tent and stood beside Arn, “what is korath enargo?” she ask
ed. She had overheard the words that Kuno had spoken and although she had learned many of the ways of the Nomads she had never heard those words before.
Arn seemed to be staring into the morning light and did not speak until the off-world girl put her hand on his shoulder, this made him turn from his dreaming and look at her, “it is the law of the tribe; those that break those laws must be punished”.
“So this man korath broke those laws?” she asked.
The King shook his head, “no, it is from the old language it is his punishment, it means the path of pain”.
As a soldier of her Homeworld, Andra knew the importance of following orders; it was sometimes hard to do for it meant seeing her comrades die. But in war there must be sacrifices and she took the same chances and more that her leadership demanded, but she also knew that sometimes following orders was the wrong thing to do and it was at those times her heart cried out to disobey.
But she could not know that soon she too would walk the path of pain.
Being a Handmaiden Kela did not have a mate; it was forbidden by the laws of the tribe for she was promised to the Goddess Isarie. Therefore she could not be taken to a warrior’s tent; the young girl had accepted this fact for a long time for she had been chosen at a very young age to be a servant of the Gods. At that time she was known as one of the great beauties of the tribe, and her being made a Handmaiden caused the men in the tribe to wish that the Goddess had chosen someone else. But that was long ago, before her perfect features were ruined by a Hal-Jafar weapon in the battle at the Heart of Shawcona. Now she was never looked upon without pity on the faces of those who saw her, this caused her great pain although she never showed it, and no one heard her crying late at night when all others eyes were asleep. Now she hurried towards the tent of the High Priestess for there was important work to be done.
The quarters of the speaker for the Gods had been erected next to the great Holy Wagon.
It was not the ornate tent that had been used by the previous Holy Mother Obec. For that one had been destroyed in the war with the Talsonar, and along with it many of the sacred artifacts and statuary that were so cherished by the tribe. But the weavers and tent makers worked day and night and soon they had constructed a dwelling as large as the previous one but without the elaborate gold and silver trappings.
There is much to do, Kela, thought she will need her blue robe and the headdress with the white feathers, she continued to answer questions in her mind as she past the black armored guards at the entrance to Egmars tent.
The Thungodra were the bodyguards of the High Priestess, sworn to keep her safe at the cost of their lives, they were solemn warriors, and did not mix well with the others of the tribe. They preferred to train for battle and seek wisdom from the writing of Isarie rather than indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, that had been their way for as long as anyone could remember, and it would continue for as long as the Gods wished.
But they were few in numbers now, having lost many of their kind in the Great War of the Outlands. It was at that time they were made the masters of the tribe, for the old priestess Obec had given them power to punish all those who spoke against the Gods. But Obec was dead and her head hung from the saddle of the King for she had placed herself above the will of Isarie and so the Goddess destroyed her and made Egmar High Priestess. Now they would guard her to the last warrior.
So they stood silent and did not challenge the young Handmaiden as she entered the great tent for they all knew her scarred face and knew that she was the servant of Isarie and could come and go as she wished.
Inside Kela quickly made her way to the chamber of Egmar, several torches lighted the tent and there was a small fire burning in an ornate altar bowl in the middle of the room, its floor was covered in colorful woven rugs and here and there were silver vases filled with field flowers and sweet smelling buds of the coronas plant. She stopped only once to bow before a small golden statue of the Goddess and show her respects, then after uttering a short prayer she hurried to help the Holy Mother prepare for Korath Enargo.
She pulled back the curtain of Egmars sleeping chamber and slowly went inside.
“I have come to help with your robe Holy Moth....” her words trailed off when she noticed that Egmar had already put on her blue robe and was now adjusting the feathers on her headdress.
Egmar smiled at her, “you need not hurry child, it is done” she said.
“You should not do such tasks yourself”, the young girl commented, “that is the work of your Handmaidens not for a Holy Mother of the...” again she stopped speaking for she remembered the words that Egmar has spoken to her. The name she told her to speak in private and there bond of sisterhood, remembering all this caused her to lower her face, “I am sorry Enor, I have forgotten your words to me, forgive me for my error”.
Egmar moved to her and put her hand on her shoulder, “it is forgotten” she said softly, then she turned and began fussing with the feathers on her headdress, “I think this makes me look like a ruffled Doff-bird but we all must bare our burdens”.
She does not speak like a Holy Mother, the young girl thought, but I like her words. She went to the side of the older woman and began to help her adjust the headdress. “The feathers need to be straight and the dangles of silver should come down on the left side of the face”, It was quickly done. The young Handmaiden began to straighten the folds on the ceremonial robe; “I will make sure that the bowl of Grana is filled and ready for your dedication”.
She is well trained in the ways of the Goddess, Egmar told herself, and she will sit at the right side of Isarie in her golden hall.
When the robe and headdress were made ready the High Priestess stood before a refection plate and gazed at herself.
I am no longer the girl who ran on the shores of the western sea, for a moment Egmar remembered the warm days of her youth and the time she danced under the open skies and felt the sting of the ocean on her face. In her ears she heard the sharp cries of shore birds as they dipped low over the water and the waves lapping at her feet, so long ago, so long, then she heard another sound. It was not the sweet song of birds or the rise and fall of the tides. It was the sound of darkness, a cold rattling sound that brought a chill to her heart and caused her to utter a word.
“Rahash” she whispered.
Kela heard the Holy Mother say the word but it had no meaning to her, “Enor?” she asked, “is something wrong?”
The question from the young girl stopped the sound and returned Egmar to the present, “wrong?’ she replied, then she smiled, “no, everything is as it should be”, she turned away from the reflecting plate, “come there are things that need doing”.
And so they left the chamber and made their way out into the sunlight, but it did not feel warm on the scarred face of Egmar and it would be some time before the echoes of darkness faded from her mind.
As the word spread that there was going to be a punishment the tribe began to prepare. The Elders gathered together to discuss the merits of obeying the laws of the ancestors and the proper conduct of a guardian of the tribe while the warriors made ready the ground where the Korath Enargo would take place. After much discussion they decided on a place near the ancient structure and cleared a stretch of earth of all rock and outgrowths. There was a large portion of a broken statue near the ruins. They were not sure just what God the statue had been dedicated too for its face was badly weathered and there was no longer a name carved on its pitted base.
Some said it was Nor, who was the guardian of the gate to the underworld, but that God had a great pair of horns jutting from its head and it was clear that this stature bore no such feature. Others said it was Jar-Acur, the God of animals but that was soon rejected for that God was female and this bore no likeness to a woman, then after more talk it was agreed that this was indeed Atos the God of war. For near it was found the remnants of a hand holding a mystic weapon, a thunder bolt that could rain death on warriors and turn their bodies to fla
me.
So knowing that disturbing the rest of a God as strong as Atos would surely bring destruction upon their tribe the warriors made certain that the stature remained where it was, and none should touch it.
But as the activities for the ritual continued there were the constant bickering among the offspring disturbed those who wondered about other things, mothers who had born children during the last Rebirth. There was also the strange behavior that all of them were now showing, sitting for hours staring into each other’s eyes then striking out in fits of rage that left them bloody and torn. Other times when they would begin to speak in riddles and then scream as if they were being attacked, all of this made those who bore them uneasy, and scratching their heads trying to understand the reason for such actions.
They consulted the Touchtenders who prescribed herbs and potions to alter the behaviors, but all medicines failed. There were some that thought it was the work of Soul Seeers, witches of the Outlands who fed upon the innocent and possessed the evil eye. So they put talismans around the necks of the children and offered sacrifices to the Gods for their wellbeing, but all of this met with failure. So in the end they agreed that it was the will of Isarie and a burden that must be endured.
Osh was very excited about the ritual that was to come, for he delighted in recording information on the Nomads and filled parchment after parchment with the details of those rights. But how was he to know that the pain and suffering that he was about to see would be nothing compared to the anguish that would be his.
“Now where did I put my hat?” the old man said as he franticly searched outside his tent for the small woven cap that he liked to cover his large head with. The hat itself was worn and not very attractive, but it fit his oversize cranium perfectly and kept the heat of the twin suns from burning the skin where the hair was thin. “I know I had it here yesterday, but now it seems to be missing”, he turned to Endo who was standing not far away cleaning out the Washa of ashes. “Have you seen my hat?” he asked in frustration.
The Fallen God Page 10