Andra couldn’t take anymore, Stop it, I must stop this, and before she could hold her words she shouted out.
“STOP IT!”
Suddenly all was silent as the people of the Outlands ceased their chanting and the beating of drums. They looked at the woman who was the mate of their King and waited.
There were tears in Andra’s eyes as she looked over the faces of her adopted tribe.
“What’s the matter with you people, can’t you see she is hurt, why don’t you...” but before she could speak further the King touched her arm and spoke to his people. “The punishment is done” he said loudly then watched as two warriors came to the fallen girl and looked into her face.
After a moment one of them spoke to their leader, “she is dead my lord” he said.
Hearing those words forced Andra to turn away from her mate and leave the ritual known as the path of pain.
Arn wanted to run after her but he was the King and being so he had to remain till all the ceremony was done, “take the body away” he told the warriors, “prepare it for burial”.
There was only silence as they lifted her up and carried her away.
Egmar watched her lifeless body being taken to her tent but she still could not cry, why do I not hurt, as she must have? She asked herself, have the scars on my body reached into my heart? But there was no time for more questions for it was now her time to speak. She moved forward so that all could see her and spoke in a voice so that all could hear.
“The ritual of Korath Enargo is the law of the Talsonar, but there are other laws greater then ours”, she gestured to Kela who was standing near her with a golden bowl filled with Grana, the gift of the Gods. The Handmaiden came forward and offered the bowl to her Holy Mother, and once more Egmar spoke, “let us now receive the gift of the Goddess and give thanks for her love” then she took a small portion of the green salt and put it to her lips.
“Togasttra emo entralac, give us your strength”, she said, then put the crystals into her mouth.
The gift of Isarie filled her body and she prayed to herself, the Goddess is merciful, she thought, then something crossed her mind, but why did she punish me? These were mind words that had never been there before, and with them came the rattling sounds of the darkness. But her thoughts were broken by the words from the tribe.
“Togasttra emo entralac, give us your strength”, they called out, and took the green crystals into their mouths.
Egmar raised her hand once more; “the Goddess is content”. She looked at her son.
Arn also raised his hand; “the Korath Enargo is finished”.
And with those words the path of pain ended.
But as the tribe walked away a warrior suddenly noticed Osh standing on the head of the war God, “valcoush, sacrilege!’ he cried out, “he dishonors the Gods!’
The others of the tribe turned to see the old man and the shame that he was bringing on the tribe.
“He has offended the Gods,” cried out an Elder.
“Atos will punish us!’ said another.
“We are doomed!’ shouted a warrior.
The words were taken up by the tribe for the Gods were not to be offended for doing so would bring down destruction on them and their entire world. With screams of revenge they moved towards the Callaxion and the young Sandjar.
Osh saw the angry Outlanders coming for him and he quickly got down from the broken statue and tried to explain his misconduct. “It was not my intentions to desecrate an image of a God, had I known the carving was of great significance I would have made other arrangements to view the ritual, please except my apologies”.
But his words fell on deaf ears and the Nomads continued shouting.
Endo knew the look of hatred, he had seen it on the faces of the Nomads every day of his young life and he knew that they wanted to hurt them. But he also knew that a single Sandjar and an old man was hardly a match for the vengeance of the tribe. Still he would try and save himself and his father from death, so as they gathered around them and shouted, the small green boy braced his feet and lifted his clawed hands ready to strike.
“Kill the Sandjar” one Nomad shouted.
“Destroy them both,” yelled another.
Then the attack began.
The old man tried to defend himself but it was useless, so he fell to the ground and felt strong fists battering him and grunted as booted feet kicked him.
Endo did better, with his sharp claws he managed to keep from being overwhelmed and inflicted several deep cuts to the arms and bodies of those that attacked him. But a lone Sandjar is hardly a match for one Nomad let alone a whole tribe, and soon he too went down under a wave of shouting warriors.
They would have died then and there if a voice had not called out. “LET THEM BE!”
And hearing the command the warriors stopped the attack and moved back from the bloodied old Callaxion and the small Sandjar.
Arn the King had come to their rescue. Beside him stood Kuno and a small group of warriors, they held war-axes in their strong hands and formed a circle around the old man and the scavenger. It took only a moment for the shouting to vanish.
“They are not to be harmed,” said the King in a loud voice, “now go!”
There was grumbling on the side of many of the Nomads but the word of the King was obeyed and the people of the Outlands slowly walked away from the statue and there hatred.
Arn turned to the warriors standing with him, “take them to their tent and summon the Touchtenders”.
Again his words were obeyed and the green boy and the old man were taken away.
When all were gone except the King and the captain of the Spikebacks Kuno spoke, “Atos is a vengeful God, he will not forget”
The King said nothing and there were no more words as they left the fallen statue of the war God.
When Sunbirth came the Almadra gathered together to bury the young lovers who had walked the path of pain.
The Anarish Noc-Ator had not killed the warrior known as Thorm but when he woke and found out that the girl who had opened her tent and her arms to him had died it was something his heart could not forgive. So taken the dragons teeth, the two daggers that all Nomads carried he drove one into his chest and took his own life.
His body was washed and dressed in his armor, his Journey-Nail, the small golden spike that always hung around the neck of warrior was driven into his fist to hold the handle of his war-ax. Now he would have it to defend against demons in the Afterlife and it would be with him in the Golden Hall of Isarie.
The girl known as Teal was also washed in scented water then dressed in a fine robe of white, her hair was braided and fixed with ivory and silver stays, around her slim neck was placed a colorful necklace of ocean shells and Sagar teeth. And because she loved the taste of Meadow cane a large stock was put into one hand.
A grave was dug and their bodies lowered into it side by side, their hands were placed into each other’s so that they might walk together in the Afterlife, beside them was a freshly baked loaf of Kasha bread and two full cups of well-aged Po. When all this was done they were covered by earth and the song of remembrance sung to their passing.
“In all the days of the future we will see your face.
In all the nights of our dreams we will touch your hand.
In the winds of the sky we will hear your name.
In the ground of the earth we will feel your love.
And when we die we will listen to our children.
Sing the song of remembrance to us.”
Later that night Egmar sat alone in her tent and before her was the Great Book of Isarie,
In the dim light of a brazier she could see the gold and silver inlay of the cover and on its front the sacred emblem of the Outlanders, two great suns intertwined. She looked at it for a time thinking of all the names that had been inscribed on its ancient pages. All the lives that had been lived and then when they were finished they would continue to live in the writings
of the Holy Book. She opened the inlaid Rimar skin cover and turned the worn pages to the section that held the names of those who had passed into the Afterlife. She went down the names slowly till she came to her daughter.
Seeda, she thought, you were the laughter in my heart, and now that laughter is gone.
Then she saw the name of her son.
Agart, you were the strength in my soul, but now I grow weak.
Seeing the names brought pain to her but then she pictured them sitting at the right hand of the Goddess and with them was her mate Karn, wait for me my love, she prayed.
She thought of the two young Nomads that had died that day, they were not great warriors or had exalted themselves in the eyes of the Gods. But because they had followed their hearts instead of their minds their names were written in the Book of Isarie so that all would know and understand their eternal love.
Chapter 8.
The Sandjar.
The scavengers of the Wastelands are not of my body.
They do not know my book or follow my teachings.
They will not see my face nor sit by my side.
They are the Outcasts of my love and will feed upon their own.
From the Book of Isarie.
Rawg was the leader of the Norgos, a large family of Sandjars that wandered the Outlands taking what they could find and leaving little behind, they had moved up from the Sirolian Plains and were heading for the dunes of Omar-Ran. This was not something that was done by a scavenger for there was little of worth in the barren land and most creatures gave it a wide birth.
Although this was the Long Summer and food for all the creatures of Gorn was plentiful it was not so with the Norgos. They did find several fallen Rimar in the past few days but they were either guarded by Whiptails or other bands of Sandjar greater than they were. It was true that Burrow Baby were plentiful but the scavengers found there taste unpleasant, they did eat roots and other vegetables but long for the sweet taste of meat. Now they were squabbling amounts themselves for whatever rotting food was left in the carry wagons.
Sandjar were the scavengers of Gorn, they wandered over much of the planet searching for food and whatever they could find to sustain their lives, they were small but strongly built, with large eyes and clawed hands. Their skin was mottled and greenish in color and they covered their bodies in roughly sewn together Rimar skin, they used crude but effective weapons made from Itarian steel scavenged from fallen Lightships, but wore no armor. They traveled together in family groups and would not hesitate to eat their own if times were hard. They had no real language and communicated in grunts and body gestures.
They preferred moving at night when darkness would shield them from enemies, it was also better suited to their large eyes that were accustomed to dim light rather than the harsh glare of the twin suns of Gorn. But they could travel in the daylight if necessary by covering their heads with hoods and shielding their eyes and the time for braving the sunlight was now.
Days ago Rawg had watched as the sky streaked with a ribbon of light that could only be made by a Lightship or cargo container falling through the upper atmosphere. He could see the general direction of where it had come to earth and now his plan was to reach that prize before any other Sandjar could. It meant traveling both day and night and entering the great wastes of Omar-Ran, but it was the only way to reach their prize for it would have been seen by others of his kind, and if they did not hurry there would be little left for them.
The leader sat holding the reins of his thin Trofar and listened to its discontented grunts and snorts. That was because they had not stopped to let it and the other pulling beasts feed, every time it tried to munch on the tall grass it moved over it would be struck on the back by the Sandjar and made to keep moving. Next to Rawg sat one of his mates, a young Sandjar female that was holding a recently born offspring. She was one of several mates for any good leader of a Sandjar family always had more than one female at his disposal, this one was young and attractive by the standards of the Scavengers, her skin was a nicely mottled green and she had large dark eyes. She was also the daughter of his third mate but that did not mean anything to a Sandjar, inter-mating was common among their kind and assured that the tribe would continue.
For all their viciousness the scavengers cared a great deal for their young, they looked after them with care and protected them as best they could, but that still did not keep them safe if the time came to eat them in a famine.
But luck was on their side, for as the lead wagon came up over a small rise in the landscape Rawg saw the carcass of a dead Rimar laying on its side with only a small group of fellow Sandjar feasting on it. It only took a moment or two for the leader of the Norgos to make the decision to fight. He raised his clawed hand and made a guttural scream that sounded the charge to battle.
Now Sandjars do not have warriors that ride out before the others of their tribe, they did not leave their women and children behind in relative safety while the males rode off to fight, everyone in the family tribe would battle together. The young and old alike if you did not fight you received no food when the spoils were divided. A Sandjar learns this at a very early age, if they do noy they died, it was harsh law but a necessary one for the lands of Gorn devourer the weak without mercy.
So with hunger gnawing at their bellies the tribe or Norgo headed for their enemies with only one thought, to kill and survive. It did not take them long to cover the short distance from where they first saw the dead Rimar to striking down the first of their kind. It was a mistake on the side of the opposing tribe not to post lookouts to warn of danger but they had been so overjoyed to find the dead Outlander beast that they forgot all. Now they would pay the price of that fatal mistake.
The wagons of the Norgo rolled over the other family tribe like a strong wind rolls over the plains of Darmock, they struck out with crude weapons but it was Rawg who brought down many of the opposing Sandjar with the first pass. But it did not last long, with a cry from there leader the scavengers fought back, they jumped into the oncoming wagons and struck right and left killing several males and a female and child, but their number was to small to have any hopes of victory.
The Sandjar were vicious fighters, they used their steel weapons but also ripped with their clawed hands and bit deep with their sharp teeth. They felt little pain and could continue to fight with a limb missing or a deep cut, long centuries of breeding only the fittest of their kind made them extremely tuff and savage. And now that tuffness was being put to the test.
Rawg smashed the head of a young Sandjar with a heavy club that he used as a weapon; it was a mass of steel fitted to a strong ironwood handle. He used this to crush in the hard skulls of two males and one female, now he was covered in greenish blood and looking for more victims for his hunger rage. He found one and quickly dispatched it; he now stood over the remains of a small child and pulled his club from its small skull. Then as he turned he saw a large scavenger heading straight for him with a raised cutting ax in his hands. With a twist to the left he saved himself from certain death and then struck out with his right arm to smash in the ribs of his attacker. The big male went down with a scream clutching his side and rolled over on the ground, he tried to raise himself but a blow from Rawgs club crushed in his skull and sent brains splattering over the body of the Sandjar. Seeing their leader dead sent the remaining tribe members fleeing with whatever they could carry and leaving the Rimar carrion to the tribe of Norgo.
When Rawg saw that his tribe was victorious he lifted up his bloodstained weapon and let out with a loud scream. Those left alive took up the cry and it echoed over the battlefield and warned others that the dead Rimar belonged to the tribe of Norgo. Then without stopping they fell upon the dead beast and began to feast.
Some distance away and deep within the great ship once called M-91 a half-human half-machine man was growing use to his new power.
The Darkman could not see his face and if he did it would not have matter for he
was content to know that he was no longer a thing of pity, but if any Outlander had seen him they would say that he was no longer a man. His scarred face was now half covered in metal plating and where once an eye had been was now a disk that glowed with an evil light. They would not have known that this new device gave the Shadowman superior vision and the ability to see over great distance with accuracy.
Likewise looking at his body they would have said it had been corrupted not only by the rotting of the poison lands, but by some metal disease that replaced flesh and bone with steel and wire. It would have been impossible to know that he was now a Cyborg, a composite of technology and organic tissue, all they would have known is that he was not a creature of this world but a demon from beyond the dark gulf. All this no longer matter to the Darkman, all that he knew or cared about was the fact that he could now continue the dream of destroying all Nomads.
He now sat upon a transverse-connector near the great Orb and flexed his metal hand, slowly opening and closing it. Around him moved the small Repairbots that had given him the new appendages and visionary unit. In the time he had been inside the control chamber he had grown use to the site of the metal creatures and no longer thought of them as unholy things. They now went about their tasks of checking fittings and making sure that the nutrients continued to flow to the Orb and that all was in order. As for food for the half-human it was a simple matter to create a nourishing if somewhat bland paste that it could consume and keep its internal organs functioning.
The Shadowman had seen them do this work for a time now and ignored them and concentrated on the metal hand that was now his, It is a gift from my God, he told himself he fell from the stars and gave me the power. He looked up at the glowing orb and smiled, he will give me more power if I please him. The thought of more capability made his smile widen, then he stood up and faced the thing that was now his God.
The Fallen God Page 12