The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  It is for the best, he mused, and the weak are always food for the strong.

  Once more he looked at the chamber about him, it had changed, there were many more strange machines, and one in particular that the Shadowman had not seen before, it was over a meter in height and mostly round in design. There were several tentacles like arms protruding from its metal and organic body and in many respects it resembled a report drone but this new mechanism incorporated body parts of Nomads and Sandjar into a monstrosity of both. At its base were two tread like mechanisms that gave it movement, but what was the most startling thing about the metal creature is that it could talk.

  “Incoming reports on power drives alternatives are being evaluated”, it said as it stood before the Orb, “power is being kept at acceptable levels by solar and energy regulators on first and second interface sections are being recalibrated”.

  All this meant nothing to the Darkman for his knowledge of alternate power resources and solar collectors was none existent.

  The Taskrobot was there to replace the Report Drone that had for so long reported on the repairs as the lay hidden inside the third magnitude star called Procus, but that robot had been destroyed in the battle with the Eran. But it could be easily replaced and now there was a need for such a reliable source of information, so the Orb gave commands that another be built, and now it stood waiting for a reply from its controller.

  The sphere pulsed with a blue glow once again then it spoke to its minion, “have we reached the desired coordinates?” it asked.

  “We have reached the correct longitude and latitude starting at a fix reference point calculated from the topographical information given”, the drone replied.

  The Shadowman had no way of knowing that path to where they now stood was taken from his mind, the Orb had looked into his memories and found what it had been looking for, a place where it could find materials to continue its ominous plan.

  “Ready the retrievers and compile a summary of their findings”.

  “At once”, replied the Taskrobot then it turned and rolled away into a darkened corridor.

  The Shadowman watched the strange creature move away. The Gods have many slaves he thought then he heard the voice of his master.

  “I have reached the place where I wished to be” it spoke “now we can begin”

  The Darkman felt a slight tingling in his head as if a cold wind had found its way into his mind, the tingling grew more intense until it felt like he had a nest of Blaze-ants racing around in his skull. He lifted his metal hand to his head and tried to shake the buzzing away.

  “What is happening?” he asked.

  “We are becoming stronger”, was the answer.

  Valen was about to move closer to the metal beast when he saw it begin to stir, he watched in bewilderment as a great opening appeared at one side and hundreds of shiny creatures began to emerge. They scurried out and moved in all directions, some were as small as Rockrunners others were the size of Trofar and a few were twice that magnitude. They moved outwards in a great army of iron and steel and began to dismantle the ancient machinery and bleached skeletons that had lain undisturbed for centuries.

  What are they doing? He thought why would a God need steel and bone?

  He decided it was time he had a closer look at his enemy, so taking up his weapon he slowly moved down the hill and towards the Iron God. He moved silently, using the masses of steel, bone and Eul rock to hide his body, but as he moved closer to his goal his head began to pound with a strange pain. It was small at first, little more than receiving a thump on the head from a drunken Nomad, but as he move forward the pain became more intense. But the Caladon warrior shrugged it off and continued to move closer to his enemy, but with each step the pain grew and grew till it was a pounding that he could not ignore.

  What is happening? Valen thought as he put his hand to his head, why is there pain without seeing an enemy? He stumbled forward still holding his head but refusing to turn away, then he felt something invading his mind, calling him forward making his legs move without his permission.

  “No I will not go!” he called out, but his body refused to listen and he moved onward, and as he did the small metal spider that he had taken from the neck of Hasgar stirred in his carry pouch. And to his horror it burst free of its confines and began to move up his chest. It made a “clicking” sound and rattled its thin appendages causing the Nomad to throw himself against a large metal plating and try to raise his hand to strike the thing from his body. But his arm refused to move; all he could do was stand and watch as the hideous creature made its way up to his neck. There it stopped and looked into the eyes of the Nomad.

  Valen was now shaking with pain and the effort to pull himself free of the thing that was taking control of his mind, he ground his teeth and the great muscles on his arms and legs swelled with the effort that was now being spent by the Caladon warrior.

  “No I will not go!” grunted the Outlander through clenched teeth; “I will not GO!”

  Slowly the metal spider moved behind his head, he felt its tiny metal feet digging into his flesh and getting ready to impale him with its mind probe. The “clicking” sound grew louder and the Nomad knew that he had only seconds to gain his freedom. So summoning up all his strength he forced his head forward then brought it back hard crushing the metal creature between flesh and steel.

  There was a shower of sparks then the creature fell to the ground, and not stopping to rest Valen forced his feet to turn away and move back the way he came, with each step the pain in his head began to ease and his movements became more his own. He filled his mind with images of his past life, he saw himself riding strong and free over the vast open plains of the Outlands, and this slowly replaced the voice that was calling him to submit and become one of many.

  He moved like a man caught in a night terror, each step eased the pain in his head, and with each step his strength began to wane. He felt like his arms and legs were being held back by swamp sand, and it took all his will to keep from being sucked down into a dark abyss.

  I will not fall he cried out in his mind, I WILL NOT FALL!

  Onward he moved inching his way back up the small rise and away from the invader of his thoughts.

  How long it took to walk then crawl back to his Whiptail he did not know for he had lost all track of time, but when at last he lay atop the hill near his mount he let himself rest. He lay there for a time sucking in great lung full of sweet air and feeling his strength slowing returning. At last the pain was gone and his mind became free of the intruder that had taken over his will.

  “I did not fall,” he said to the sky, “I did not fall”, then he closed his eyes and all was darkness.

  When Valen once more opened his eyes it was night, he looked up at the stars and the moons overhead, the night’s moons that looked down upon him shone brightly and seeing them brought contentment to the soul of the young warrior. The Caladon slowly raised himself up on one arm and turned to gaze down on the Graveyard below. There in the moonlight he saw a field of metal creatures moving about in a vast mosaic of activity. Their numbers could not be counted and their purpose could not be known but the Nomad would sit and watch all through the night and continue watching till the twin suns rose in the sky and the stars vanished from the heavens.

  Chapter 19.

  Questions.

  I know all things for I see both the past and the future.

  But you must live in the here and now and cannot see through my eyes.

  For the light of that knowledge would burn you until you become blind.

  From the Book of Isarie.

  By nightfall Andra was feeling much better, her head had stopped spinning and the taste of blanket lice had gone away. But although her mind was clear her thoughts were not.

  She lay inside the great tent that she shared with her mate; it had been their sanctuary, their place of peace and security away from the problems of the tribe and the worries of Kingship. But no
w as she looked about her it seemed to have changed for the man she loved had changed in her heart.

  She thought back over the past days and the things that she had seen and felt the images of Thorm and Teal the young Nomads who were forced to walk the path of pain and die because they shared a love that made them break the laws of the tribe.

  They shouldn’t have been punished for falling in love, she thought, she slowly rose from the raised sleeping mattress where she had slept and put her feet on the soft rug that covered the floor of the chamber. She looked over at her armor that hung from a wooden standard in the corner, and at the war-ax that the Ironworkers had fashioned for her.

  Is there nothing more for me then to witness death? And thinking this she saw the young girl being led to the alter stone, the smile on her face as she was being laid upon it and the shouting from the Nomads as her heart was cut out. Perhaps I am wrong; perhaps this is not my home? She thought back to her childhood and her mother Niana, she saw her kind eyes and once more felt her soft hand on her cheeks. And as she closed her eyes she heard her lyrical voice.

  “You are my love made real,” she said softly, “and one day you will give birth to a child that will hold your heart”.

  Andra opened her eyes and slowly touched the golden Journey-Nail about her neck, I have not given life, she thought, I have taken it she held up the warrior’s symbol and looked at it hard, is this all that I will hold at my death? She placed one hand on her midsection and an imaged flashed before her inner mind.

  She saw the face of a child, a baby with pale eyes and white skin, it was lying on a crystal bed surrounded by a strange light, is this a baby, is this MY baby? She slowly reached out to try and touch the dreamchild but the imaged vanished in a flash of reality. She was once more back in her tent and holding her golden nail.

  A warrior’s death cannot bring happiness, she told herself, I took an oath to stand by my King--- but I am a woman first.

  Andra sat there for some time thinking about her vision and what it might mean, she had grown used to seeing things in dreams, and she knew that they sometimes came true. Now as she sat alone in her tent she wished with all her heart that a future of contentment were waiting for her.

  Arn had not spoken to his mother in a long time, and although he wanted too it was not the custom of a leader of the Almadra to seek comfort from the woman who gave him birth. Added to this the fact that she was now High Priestess and a speaker of the Gods and it would seem that he was putting too much faith in the wisdom of Isarie and not in his own judgment. It was a strange fact but one that the Outlanders had come to respect, they would pray and offer sacrifices at ritual days and do all the things necessary to gain favor with the Gods, but that did not mean that they would but all their trust in the heavens. They knew that the Gods help those who help themselves and there was no better way to do that then to have a strong King.

  But Arn had been troubled by the events of the last few days, in the past he would talk to Agart about matters of the tribe and such, but his brother was now dead and there was still anger in his heart when it came to his younger brother Anais. He knew that Kuno was a man of sound wisdom but their conversations were mostly about hunting, or women or the best strategy for winning at Chance-cards, now he needed someone who understood the burdens of Kingship and the longings of the heart. So he walked to the great tent of the Holy Mother and stood waiting as the Thungodra sent word that the King wished to enter.

  Inside Egmar was enjoying a meal of roasted arrow tails dipped in honey and warm Deep-root tea; she sat comfortably on a soft couch piled high with many down stuffed pillows. It was not her custom to pamper herself so, but lately she began to seek more lavish accommodations then the sparse surroundings that had served her so well in the past. Now her chambers were set with only the finest of trappings, and the walls hung with tapestries that once were only used at holy rituals. And on ornately carved tables sat several golden bowls piled high with sweet meadow cakes and ripened Balbar fruit. There were also cups of rare spices and herbs that she could use to her hearts content. And rather than wearing the simple robes of a Nomad she had taken to covering herself in richly decorated garments sewn with treads of gold and silver, and about her neck hung a large necklace of polished Sagar teeth.

  Close by her were several Handmaidens, two stood waiting for some signal from their mistress that she wished something or other and then they would run to complete those requests. Still other holy servants of Isarie sat and played ancient harps made from rare woods and sang songs of the past glories of the Almadra and the brave deeds of warriors,

  They thought it was strange that Egmar who had never wished to be treated in such a lavish way before would now become angry if her tea were to cold or the songs they sung displeased her.

  But to the Holy Mother things were as they should be, after all, she thought, I am the speaker for the Gods, then as she took another bite of her ripened fruit in walked a Handmaiden with her head bowed low.

  “Forgive me Holy Mother”, she said softly, “but the King wishes to speak to you”

  The High Priestess put down her fruit, my son here? She thought, “send him to me” she said with a wave of her hand.

  “As you command Holy Mother”, the Handmaiden replied, then she turned and went to relay the wishes of her mistress.

  Egmar then turned to her other servants, “leave me now”, she said with another wave of her scared hand, and watched as they obeyed. When she was alone she turned and looked at the Book of Isarie that now sat upon a silver stand surrounded by golden braziers, the light from them bathed the sacred book in a warm glow and illuminated the dark spider that sat there unmoving, unmoving that is except for its glowing red eyes that seemed to be more human than before.

  The Holy Mother looked into its glowing orbs and smiled, “my son seeks an audience with me; perhaps I should keep him waiting?” Egmar knew it was an old trick of an Elder of the tribe to keep someone waiting, and she knew it was a way of gaining power over that person, but before she could send word that she was not ready the King entered her chambers.

  “You wish to speak to me?” she asked in a voice that held nothing of the warmth of a mother speaking to her child.

  “Yes mother I do”, spoke the King, and then as he walked to an ornate chair he took in the lavish settings around him. What has happened here? He thought this is not a place where my mother would find contentment. But there were other matters to contend with other then the trappings surrounding him, so he seated himself and waited till his mother sat down near him, she adjusted her robe then smiled.

  “What has brought you here?” she asked.

  Arn took a moment to order his mind, “the days of the past have returned to haunt me,” he said bluntly.

  Egmar nodded her head slightly, “we are all troubled by things that have come and gone, do not let your past mistakes turn your head from things in the present” my son is growing weak. She glanced over at the Holy Book and the glowing red eyes that spoke to her in a voice only she could hear, “weakness cannot be tolerated”, they said.

  The King thought over the words of his mother “but surely I can be forgiven for my past?” there is room in the heart of Isarie for me.

  But to his dismay Egmar shook her head, “there are some things that cannot be forgotten and they will stay with us always”.

  Arn looked into the eyes of the High Priestess; my mother has changed, she is no longer the woman who raised me. The King stood up, “forgive me for intruding, I will leave you now”, and without further words Arn walked from his mother’s chambers.

  Egmar did not stop him from going, and when he was gone she turned once more to the Holy Book, “my son has grown into a weak King,” she said. And in return she heard the voice of the spider, “yes he has grown weak---but there is another to take his place” and once more she heard the name.

  “Rahash”.

  And hearing that name she smiled, “yes, yes a strong son to lead”.


  Endo follow the beckoning sent through the maze of stone structures that made up the interior of the Norgonie fortress. He knew it was dangerous but the strange odor seemed to override his better judgment, now it was dark and he found himself far from the safety of his tent and in a place that was not visited by Nomads. By the light of the moons and his own ability to see perfectly well in the dimmest illumination he treaded his way carefully and kept to the shadows, twice he was almost seen, but a Sandjars instincts are keen and he managed to keep his presents a secret.

  He continued onward stopping now and then to sniff the air and convince himself that he was heading in the right direction, he made his way around the great pyramid and through broken walls that must have been another great hall or meeting place. After wandering for what seemed like hours he stopped to smell the air once more.

  It is growing stronger, he thought, and he was not wrong, the odor was increasing in strength and with it the pull it had on the young Sandjar, could this be the pheromones that my father told me about? But it did not seem likely to Endo, for he saw no sign of a Sandjar in the fortress and it had been many ages sense any of his kind dared to enter the land of the Norgonie. But still the odor was there, strong, persistent and powerful, so powerful that it made the boy continue onward when his mind cried out to him to turn and go back the way he came.

  So putting aside his better judgment he moved down a narrow corridor between two rows of stones and saw that he had come to an opening in the wall of the fortress. It was at the corner of the massive fortification were it butted up to a chunk of rock that angled upward to a mountain side, there were several tall Norgonie warriors standing guard at the entrance and beside them were fierce looking creatures. They were four legged and in some ways they resembled the Rackdogs of Calorum but these had massive heads and great jaws that looked like they could bite through anything, the forest people called them Drogs and used them for hunting and for guarding. But what seemed odd to the young Sandjar was the fact that the warriors were looking INTO the tunnel as if expecting an enemy to emerge from the darkness.