The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Gun ports, she thought, this place was built for war and nothing else.

  As they drew nearer she saw a stone bridge over what was surely a manmade mote, at the far end of the bridge was a door of massive proportions. The heavy wood and steel portal had iron hinges the size of Trofar and at the center of the massive barrier hung the skull of a beast with a mouth that could have easily swallowed a Whiptail.

  The moat itself was filled with brackish water and around its banks lay many large and well-fed Daggermouths. There were also the skeletons of animals mixed with human remains and as she looked higher she could see more bodies hanging from spikes driven into the huge stones of the walls.

  They must be criminals or worse, Andra surmised, but she also knew that her own people were capable of far worse things and seeing how the Outlanders treat those convicted of breaking their laws she turned her head away and tried to think of other things.

  Arn was also thinking of other things, things that had not entered his thoughts in a very long time.

  It all looks the same, then his mind returned to that day long past when he rode beside Karn his father and he was only a young Prince of the Almadra. He saw his fathers scarred face as he rode strong and proud and his eyes beaming with pride as he led his son forward to meet the people of the forest for the first time, and he remembered his words.

  “The Norgonie are a strong people, do not show them weakness or they will destroy you”.

  Those words were as true today as they were long ago.

  Thoughts of his father vanished as the air was filled with another blast of signal horns, and as the sound echoed in the air the woman called Ishea halted her Rowgor before the massive portal and lifted her long spear high above her head.

  “Open the gate”. She called out in a strong voice; “it is Ishea queen of the Norgonie who command it!”

  And as she lowered her weapon the immense door began to open, the huge hinges made loud grating sounds as they slowly pivoted on their fulcrums. The colossal skull had been cut down its center so that when the doors open one half moved to the left while the other moved to the right. Exactly how that door opened was a mystery to the Outlanders for there was no chain to pull on nor any sign of a beast to supply the power that would have been needed. Still the door opened and when all was clear Ishea lifted her spear once again and the long column of Nomads and Forest people began to enter the great fortress.

  At the back of the Almardra and leading the Spikeback warriors Kuno was glad that their long march was almost over.

  I wonder if Balru will remember me? Thoughts of flashing eyes and ample breasts brought a smile to the face of the Captain, for he and Balru had spent numerous warm nights together and shared many tankards of spiced Po. She was the only female to ever out drink the lusty Nomad, and he always held a special place for the Norgonie woman in his heart.

  But the time for drinking and warm arms would come later, now was the time to command his men, so he turned to look back over his large shoulder and call out in a voice that made his warriors take notice.

  “I want all the long-range weapons cleaned and the Disrupters checked, and if anyone drinks a drop of Po before that is done I will have your head on the end of my ax!” But the thought of well-aged wine made him reach for a small canteen hanging from his saddle and after checking that no one was watching he took a deep draft of the fiery drink. After the warming liquid entered his stomach he wiped his face with the back of his hand. He did not feel guilty about disobeying his own commands.

  What is the use of being captain if you have to follow orders? He told himself, then smiled again and began to think of warm arms once more.

  It was almost dark now with only a few red and purple shafts of light casting long shadows on the ground, but inside the fortress of the Norgonie bonfires and torches bathed the surroundings in a warm golden glow.

  As the Queen entered her stronghold a great cheer rose up from the people of the woodland. Young and old alike cheered with loud shrill voices while the elders beat their chests and cried out to dark Gods for the safe return of their matriarch. Hundreds of strong painted warriors raised their spears above their heads and uttered wild war cries that sent arrow tails fluttering out from their nests. And above it all sounded the pounding of great drums and the blowing of echoing horns.

  As Andra crossed the bridge her heart began to pound, and not out of fear for she had entered many strange fortresses during her years as a soldier and had trained her emotions to keep her alive. It might have been from anticipation but that wouldn’t account for the feeling of falling in the pit of her stomach and the strange images that now flashed into her mind.

  Green eyes and a warm mouth? And like a phantom the images were gone and she looked over at her mate who rode next to her, it is his heart I feel, she thought it is his visions in my mind.

  Indeed it was the thoughts of the King that had crept into her head for try as he might he could not drive the face of Ishea away.

  Why does my mind betray me when I love only Andra? Arn could command the death of any of his tribe, his word was law and there were none that would challenge him, but to his heart his commands were as useless as a Dotfly against the wind.

  It took some time for the Nomads to secure the wagons and do all the things necessary for their camp. As they did in the Outlands the Almadra placed the Elders in the middle surrounded by the warrior’s tents, the great moving shrine of the Holy Mother was set near the temple of Arm-Ra.

  The Whiptails had to be fed and held safe inside a large pen that was far enough away from the Spikebacks to keep them safe. The Trofar were all given the great handfuls of tender grass mixed with forest greenery, they would now eat and rest then eat again to make up for the fat reserves that had been depleted by the long journey.

  The stronghold of the Norgonie was very large; its thick outer wall of rock surrounded a series of wood and stone structures but these were mostly in ruin. What had once been a strong interconnected set of domes, square buildings and towers were now just a pale shadow of what had been. Here and there some dwellings were well cared for without much sign of decay. The large dome in the middle was still strong and could be used to hold thousands of people; it was made from stone with great supporting beams of steel mixed with colossal bones much like the huge Breast of Isarie in the far off land of Omargash. The walls inside and out were heavily decorated with picture graphs and carvings detailing the history of the Norgonie and there triumphs over enemies. These were not easy to read because of the effects of aging and the vines and tree that now clung to the stones.

  There was a series of aqueducts that fanned out from a central well that used an ingenious pumping system. The pump itself was made of steel with a main wheel connected to several other smaller wheels that moved together to drive a massive piston. This piston drew up water from deep underground and emptied it into a vast holding pool, from this many smaller canals ran out in all directions carrying water to every corner of the fortress. The power to turn the pump came from steam for at the base of the great machine was a furnace that had to be stoked day and night with an endless supply of Eul.

  Near the central dome was a great shrine, it was the tallest structure of all, it bore a striking resemblance to the pyramid cities of the Off-Worlders. There was a long sloping set of stairs running up to an entrance that would allow twenty Nomads marching shoulder to shoulder inside. At the top of the structure there was a dome covered in gold, it was cracked here and there but its flaws did not take away from its rare beauty. But it was not the only place were precious metal was abundant, statures and bar-relief were also layered with gold and silver and everywhere there glinted flashes of rare stones and polished ivory. All round the temple stood statues of different Gods and Goddesses, a vast pantheon of deities that ruled all the heavens and the earth.

  The night moons were high in the evening sky when the Outlanders finally sat down with their brethren and began to feast on all the deliciou
s food that the people of the forest had prepared for them. The central dome was filled with warriors, Elders and the nobility of the Norgonie, they sat at long wooden tables heaped with succulent meats, breads and fruits of exotic appeal, for the people of the forest ate from a far greater variety of foods then the Nomads of the Outlands.

  But for all the nourishment that the Norgonie provided there was one delicacy that the Nomads did not touch, it was called Troca, it consisted of only fat green worm like creatures as big as a warriors middle finger. They had large scaled heads with two hard pincers that could cut into flesh or through hard rock if necessary, they resembled the Rockworms of the Outlands, but had yellow markings over there hairless bodies and only stubs for legs. The Forest-dwellers ate them with relish but no Outlander could tolerate their bitter flesh, and there was one more thing that the Nomads found appalling, the Norgonie ate the Troca alive!

  The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and song for both tribes enjoyed stories of honor and victories and deeds that would be retold at other gatherings. But it was best that they left their weapons outside for some of those tales evolved conflicts between Nomad and Norgonie and it sometimes led to battles between the storytellers. But that was to be expected at such feats and the occasional quarrels were not looked upon with much concern.

  But while there were many things that the Almadra and Norgonie had in common there were also many things that they did not agree upon. For one thing bringing food to another was not a sign of marriage between the forest people, which involved a rather complicated set of rituals that sometimes brought death. It was also a fact that the Norgonie did not trade with the city dwellers or the Ergan-Mar, the miners that dug deep in the earth for the precious Grana salt, how they remained healthy was a mystery that would soon be solved.

  Arn and Andra sat near Ishea surrounded by warriors of both tribes and several Elders. They had removed their armor and wore simple garments of cloth and Rimar hide, they retained the two daggers that all Nomads carried but their war-axes were left outside the dome. Ishea on the other hand wore a very impressive outfit of finely woven threads that enhanced her ample figure and showed off her strong limbs to great advantage. She also wore a large gold and silver headdress set with rows of colorful feathers, and around her neck hung a necklace of polished Sagar teeth. All this made her look like the epitome of strength and beauty. And this was not lost on Andra and seeing her dressed in such finery only added to the jealousy that was now eating away at her like a Rockworm in stone.

  The Queen lowered the jeweled drinking cup and wiped her full lips with the back of her hand, “so, are our banquette tables as abundant as you remember them?” she asked with a smile.

  Arn nodded his head, “the fruit is as sweet as before” he replied, “the Norgonie have remained strong,” he added, then he looked into her eyes, she is the same, no time has passed.

  Beside him Andra stared down at the plate of half eaten food, something that the Queen noticed, “is something wrong with your plate?” she asked. Perhaps Half-Souls do not taste as we do?

  The Selcarie girl looked up and smiled, “no, not at all, it just that I’m not very hungry”, she said coolly, she thinks that outfit will impress me, it would look better on a swamp pig!

  The Queen did not reply to this answer and turned once more to Arn, “I have heard of your victory over the Talsonar and the time you spent as an Outcast, it is good that you have returned to your Kingship and follow the teachings of your tribe”.

  “I owe it all to the woman who sits beside me”, he said proudly, then he lifted his cup in the air, “a toast to Moonbud, the flower that kills, may she always remain at my side!”

  And hearing this the other warriors at the table lifted their cups and repeated the words of the King.

  “Moonbud, the flower that kills!” they shouted.

  And although Ishea lifted her cup she did not repeat the words of Arn, rather she remembered other words that he had spoken long ago.

  He has become a true King, he thought, he can lie without betraying his heart.

  Andra listened to the shouts of the warriors and smiled at her mate. But when the praises died she turned to look into the green eyes of the Queen and the knot in her stomach began to turn once more, when he laid in her arms did she hear the same words he now whispers to me?

  High above the floor of the central dome, Ral sat in a small niche that overlooked the feast below; he looked down like a Sundropper about to fall on his prey.

  He thinks that I have forgotten, he told his mind, but I have not!

  And thinking those words the warrior turned from the festivities below and began to walk down a narrow corridor that led into a flight of steep stairs. He walked down the stone stairs till he came to a wooden door and opening it he moved out into the night air and without stopping he continued to move away from the dome and away from the laughter and song.

  Osh and Endo did not attend the feast for they did not want to draw attention to themselves; they had learned from past experience that remaining unseen was the best defense against harm. It was almost the same words that he had spoken when he and Andra had first met for a Callaxion never forgets. So heeding his own advice the old man sat near his Washa fire and continued to write all that he had seen on his arrival in the fortress of the Norgonie. And as he did he talked.

  “Did you notice that amazing mechanism that pumped the water, it was definitely of a type that is used on the desert world of Plannos Six, but on that world they use fossil fuels and not steam power to drive the pump”. Then Osh scratched the input port on the side of his large head, “I calculate that the amount of Eul needed to achieve a high enough temperature to induce steam would require a large work force”. And after rechecking his figure a question entered his mind, I have not seen any outcropping of Eul or supply wagon; I wonder where they obtain their fuel?

  But Endo did not hear his father for he was still very apprehensive about being near the people that his kind had warned him against. And try as he might he could not shake the feeling that he should flee and put as much distance between him and the Forest-dwellers as he could.

  Now as he stood over a pot of rich Hagar soup he once more pulled the hood of his robe closer over his face. There is danger here, he thought danger and..? Why his mind said those words he did not know, perhaps his instincts as a Sandjar were calling out to him, warning him of something that was nearby or perhaps it was something more? He leaned over and smelled the delicious fragrance that wafted up from the warm soup and let his keen sense of smell take in all the spices and delicate flavorings. It needs a bit more Ulon he thought so he reached over to a small table set with clay pots and containers and took up a bit of spice between his clawed thumb and the first digit of his three fingers. He put the seasoning into the thick broth and smelled it again. But still he was not content, then he realized that the smell that was overshadowing his soup was coming from somewhere else, but before he could settle on the direction from wench it came his father spoke to him once more.

  “I think that’s enough writing for tonight”, then he turned to his son, “that smells wonderful, how about pouring some into bowls for us and we can eat?”

  It did not take long for the young Sandjar to fill two clay bowls with the hot soup and cut two thick slices of Kasha bread, then with a pitcher of well-aged Po they sat down near their wagon and began to dine.

  “hummm, delicious” the old man said as he let the warm stew slowly flow into his abdomen. “I think you are getting to be the best cook in all the Outlands”, and saying nothing more he continued to spoon his dinner and munch on mouthfuls of Nomad bread.

  Endo did the same but through the meal he could not help but notice that strong odor on the wind and the stirring it brought to his loins.

  Near the wagon of the Holy Mother Anais was also feeling something in his heart. He sat close to his Washa fire with the Handmaiden Kela to attend him, surrounding them but out of earshot were the Th
ungodra, they would guard him and the High Priestess incase the Norgonie turned on them or a Sagar cat found its way into the fortress. Now the blind Prince listened to the sound of food being prepared and the voice of the servant of Isarie.

  “I have prepared many meals for the Holy Mother so I think you will not be disappointed”. Kela said as she finished placing a fresh cut of Balbar fruit beside the juicy Rimar meat and boiled songbird eggs on a plate, there was also a small bowl of Hagar soup and for dessert two freshly baked cakes filled with Meadow cane. And to wash it all down a large cup of spiced Po. By any standards of the Outlands it was surely a sumptuous meal.

  When all was ready she walked the short distance from the preparation table to where the son of her mistress sat, she was about to tell him to hold out his hands but before she could he reached for the plate and took it from her.

  This made the Handmaiden smile, “your hearing is getting very strong,” she said as she sat down near him and waited for him to sample her cooking.

  Anais sniffed the plate in his hands, “it smells wonderful”, and then he took his fingers and filled his mouth with a bit of Rimar meat. “hummm it’s just the way I like it, thank you”.

  This brought a smile to the face of Kela, “I knew you would like it, I cooked the same thing for my father when he was..”, the thought of her dead father made the young woman turn from looking at the Prince to staring up at the bright moon that was directly overhead.

  Being blind Anais could not see what she was doing but his words sounded as if he could, “Rowgal is the moon that the Gods never visit, that is because it is the place were Outcasts go when they die”.

  Kela had also heard this story and looking up at the barren face of the moon she believed the legend to be true, “Yes I have heard that same story” she said quietly, and then she began to sing a song.

  “Nomad of the Wastelands no land is your home.