The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Why do they guard a cave? He thought, it would be easier to seal up the opening. But before he had time to ponder this question a rumbling sound came from the tunnel and a moment later a fat Norgonie walked out holding the guide ropes attached too four large Trofar. The huge beasts pulled a great carry wagon behind them; it was made of steel and wood with six large wheels and tall slopping sides, even in the dim light it was easy to see what it carried.

  Eul, Endo thought, the wagon carries Eul, now the young boy understood were the forest people obtained the burning rock to fuel their pumping system, they mined it underground and carried it to the surface in massive Karracks.

  He wanted to investigate further but he heard several more Norgonie warriors coming near and the growling of Drogs, so he wisely moved back into the darkness and made his way back to his tent and the comfort of his father’s wisdom, for there were many questions that needed answers.

  Anais and Kela did not attend the ceremony of Rowgal; there was no need for the blind Prince to stand with his brother. And although it was the first time she had journeyed into the land of the Norgonie Kela had no wish to see a young woman give up her life for the satisfaction of a false God. For she believed with all her heart that Isarie was the one and only true God and that all others bowed to her, it was the teaching of her faith and being a loyal Handmaiden of the Goddess she could not think otherwise. Now she and Anais sat near their tent dressed in simple robes surrounded by the Thungodra, and listened to the roaring of the hungry Sagar cats as they prowled the forests outside the fortress. Kela had just finished preparing an evening meal of roasted Rimar and spiced Hagar soup, and although she was taught to be humble she could not help but feel pride at the perfection of its ingredients.

  “Do you prefer two pinches of Ulon spice in your soup or is one enough?” she asked hoping to make her soup even more perfect.

  “One will do”, Anais said as he warmed himself near the Washa fire. It was a warm night but for some reason he felt a bit chilled, perhaps it was because he had spent so much time inside his tent hiding from the world and his own fears.

  “Here is your soup”, Kela said as she held out the warm bowl to the Nomad.

  Anais took it from her and smelled the rich fragrance of the mixture, “hummmm, I did not know that Handmaidens were such good cooks,” he said with a slight smile.

  The young girl nodded her head, “we learn at an early age and are expected to take our turn preparing meals for the Holy Mother”, and then she sat down on a small stool near Anais and sampled her dish. A smile crossed her lips when she tasted the thick soup for it confirmed the fact that she did indeed get the spices correct.

  They ate their meal in silence for at time then Anais turned to his companion, “do you love my mother?” he asked.

  The question caught the Handmaiden off guard for a moment, why would he ask such a question? She thought, “Your mother is wise and kind and she is the voice of the Goddess and being a Handmaiden to her I am bound to serve her with all my heart”.

  Anais heard the words of the young girl but it did not answer his question so he asked once again, “do you love my mother?”

  This time Kela answer was short, “yes I do love her”, she put down her bowl and looked at the blind Prince, “she is the mother that I did not have and I will always think of Enor as...” She stopped herself for she realized that she had use the name that was meant for only her and Egmar, “forgive me for speaking so of your mother, for that name is only to be spoken between a parent and child”.

  But Anais shook his head, “there is no need to apologize for I know that you only spoke out of love”, Enor, beloved, a name that I should have spoken.

  Hearing those words from Anais made the heart of the young girl rise; he has suffered much, she, thought, perhaps now he can heal.

  They ate the rest of their meal talking about the price of a Sagar tooth necklace and how much skill it takes to prepare a perfect bowl of Hagar soup.

  Osh ate nothing for his evening meal for he was too worried about his son and the dangers that lay waiting for him and those he might meet. It did not take a Callaxion to know that a Sandjar alone in the mites of the Norgonie was very dangerous. He knew that the scavengers never ventured into the Eastern woods and that they treated it as a forbidden land filled with terrors and evil doers of all kinds and descriptions, now as he paced back and forth near their tent and in the glow of the Washa fire his head was filled with questions.

  What if they discover that he is a Sandjar, what if they kill him before realizing that he is not a savage but rather an intelligent being? He stopped for a moment at a table set with marking tools and half-finished parchments of Rimar hide, he reached down and took up one of the practice sheets that his son had been using to refine his writing skills. The lettering was tilted in the wrong direction and there were many grammatical mistakes that any child of the Callaxion would never have made, he has a lot to learn, the old man thought. Then he realized that ANY lettering that a Sandjar made was a miracle for they were a primitive species and many generations from reaching a level that would place them in the lowest rungs of civilization. Now with this fresh perspective on his son’s abilities he looked at the markings like a proud father. He is learning, he is learning.

  Osh set the parchment back down on the table and began to pace once more for he understood that his son was indeed far superior to any other scavenger but he was still a Sandjar no matter how much he had changed. And that meant danger to anyone who crossed his path for the old man knew that if confronted he would defend himself and the savagery of a scavenger of the Outlands was great.

  He looked down at the old scar on his hand and remembered the time his son had attacked him for denying him something he wanted. It was a long time ago and he was still just an infant but he knew deep down under all the writing skills and articulate language there was still the instincts of a savage. And having convinced his mind that his son was indeed in danger Osh began to look for his woven cap and a strong walking stick, but before either of them could be found he heard a sound and looked over to see Endo walking slowly into the firelight.

  “Where have you been?” the old man asked angrily.

  “Nowhere father, I was just out walking and became lost”, Endo could see that his father was angry with him and decided to keep what he saw to himself at least for the time being.

  Osh nodded his large head, “very well, sit down and I will prepare us some food, you must be hungry”.

  “I am, father” replied the young man “but let me prepare the meal, you can sit near the fire and tell me more about the mating habits of Sandjar”.

  Not wanted to argue with his son and suddenly feeling quit hungry the old man sat down near their Washa and began speaking. “Let me see, I think when we left off I was telling you about the way the females of your species bite the neck of the males when they are embracing. This is not a sign of aggression but rather a signal to their mates that they are ready to receive the genetic material into the lower birthing canal, and then as the bite becomes more intense the males will...”

  As always the information that the Callaxion was transferring was correct and precise in every detail, but all the while Osh was talking a question kept running through his powerful mind.

  Sandjars never get lost!

  Kuno was not a man who asked many questions, he was content to know the here and now and did not trouble his mind with the future or the past. To him the past was gone and there was nothing that he could do about it now and the future was tomorrow and not something that mattered all that much, now he lay in his tent and concentrated on the woman that he held in his arms.

  He had not gone to the ritual for the Long-range weapons of the tribe had to be guarded day or night, and the Captain of the Spikebacks would keep them safe no matter what the cost. The Norgonie had no such weapons for they did not trade with the Talsonar and therefor were unable to have the powerful cannons and the Disrupters for the
mselves. That had always been a sore point with the people of the forest so anytime a Nomad tribe ventured into the Greenwoods they always kept a keen eye on the armaments. Kuno had tripled the guards and surrounded the Long-range guns with his men and placed them all at a corner of the fortress where they could see those approaching and blast a hole in the wall for escape if necessary.

  And when all that had been done the big Outlander turned his mind to more pleasurable thoughts, and those dreams were soon fulfilled for the Norgonie woman known as Balru had watched the Almadra enter her home and her heart jumped when saw that Kuno was still alive and as handsome as ever. Balru spent the afternoon bathing in scented water and braiding her long golden hair in intricate ringlets and then fixing them with silver and ivory stays. She picked out her best robe, a red one that showed off her ample bosom, clean legs and strong thighs and after putting it on she splashed herself with honey water and went off to see if the Big Nomad still remembered her.

  The rest is a matter that should not be spoken about other than to say that Kuno did indeed remember the Norgonie woman and after a few tankards of well-aged Po they retreated to his tent and spent the rest of the sunlight renewing their affection for each other. Now that light was done and the night moons were moving in the heavens and hunger was gnawing inside them both.

  “I am hungry”, said the Nomad as he rolled over on his sleeping mattress and stretched his great arms above his head, “and a full cup of Po would also be welcomed”.

  Balru sat up and let the covering fall away from her breasts, “are you saying that you would rather feast on stale Rimar and sour Po then lay with me?” she looked him square in the eyes and moved her shoulder slightly to further show off her womanly charms.

  Now Kuno was a man who knew many things, he knew just how close an enemy had to come before his Spikback guns could reach them. He also knew how to place the Disrupters to maximize their resonance power, and he was a man who could lead the tribe if necessary. But for all his wisdom there was one thing he could not master, and that was knowing when to keep his mouth shut, so now he turned to the Norgonie women and smiled.

  “A man stomach always comes before his heart,” he said with a slight chuckle.

  Hearing this Balru jumped to her feet and took up her robe in her hand, “You are a dumb beast Kuno of the Almadra!” she shouted, then without a further word she stormed out of the tent without stopping to wrap herself in her garments.

  Kuno did not chase after her but rather he lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

  Why do ALL women act like women? He asked his mind, and then he realized how poor a world it would be if men only populated it.

  High atop one of the corner towers of the fortress Ishea lay on a large bed covered in the soft skins of many Sagar cats. The room was large but it was not the pampered chambers of a Queen by any means, but the Norgonie woman preferred it that way for she found the trappings of wealth and power an offence to her nature. She was most comfortable with a sparse but strong accommodation, and so the room was filled with trophy of the hunt and weapons gathered from her enemies. However there was one thing she did indulge herself in and that was the heads that she had taken in battle.

  They sat impaled on spears that lined one side of the tower room and in the firelight from silver braziers their hollow eyes looked out at the Queen as she lay upon her bed. Ishea wore only a small garment of soft Rimar hide; her dark hair was undone and lay about her dusky shoulder like the black wing of a Nightcryer. She had removed her necklace and the ornate rings from her long fingers and her ivory handled dagger lay on a small table nearby. The green and brown stripes that covered her strong body had been washed away and now her skin seemed to sparkle in the torch light like the dark waters of forest streams. Outside could be heard the wild cries of Sagar cats and the howling filled her with longings.

  He has come back to me, she thought, he has returned and found me strong, with those words echoing in her mind she reached under a pile of skins that she used to rest her head upon and drew out a pink sea shell. It was not a large one, only the size of half her hand, but it was elegantly curved with a smooth inner side and a soft luster that sparkled in the torchlight. Soft and beautiful, she thought as she ran her fingers over the smooth surface, then she turned it over and touched the other side, it was covered in sharp spikes, dangerous to the touch. She held the gift of the sea in her hand and let the flickering firelight dance off its surface.

  A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, He promised to take me to the sea, he promised we would hunt the great leviathans he promised too...the smile vanished from her face and she threw the shell down on the bed, he promised many things----all lies!

  She stood up and moved to a table were a golden pitcher and two cups sat, she took up the pitcher and poured its contents into one of the vessels, then she began to pour a second cup of sour wine.

  “Will you join me in a cup of Po?” she asked.

  She turned to see Ral standing near the entrance to the tower, he still wore the green striping and carried his deadly spear in his hand, he looked at her and smiled, “I did not think my footfalls could be heard?”

  The Queen took up the two cups and moved towards the young Norgonie, “you are a great warrior Ral but you still have much to learn”, she handed one of the cups to the young man who took it from her and drank down several mouthfuls of the strong drink. Then with his thirst quenched he moved to a large chair and sat down roughly still holding the half empty-cup in his hand.

  “Why do you wait, why not kill him now?” he asked gripping the handle of his spear in his strong hand.

  Ishea shook her head, “no, that would be too quick; I want him to suffer as I have suffered, then when he has lost everything he will die”.

  Hearing this Ral nodded his head in approval, “yes let him suffer”, and then he took another gulp of his Po. But after wiping his lips with the back of his hand he looked at the Queen again, “but we must be careful, an animal in pain is the most dangerous”, he said.

  To this Ishea smiled broadly, “that is true, but you have killed many wounded beasts and killing this one should be an easy matter”. She moved slowly too one of the severed heads nearby and looked into its shrunken face and vacant eyes, “and when all is done his head will join the others and seeing it will comfort me on long winter nights”.

  Ral leaned forward in his chair and his voice was low, “you hate him that much,” he asked.

  Ishea walked slowly over to the young warrior and in the dim torchlight her green eyes burned with a maleficent fire, “that and more, for he was no mate to me and no father to you”.

  Ral said nothing for there was no doubt in his mind that the words of his mother were true and that there were no longer questions that needed answers.

  Chapter 20.

  Lords of the Greenwood.

  Sagar cats are very dangerous creatures, in body structure they closely resemble the mountain scavengers on Mycantras Orgaranus but whereas those creatures have six legs the forests cats of Caltarine have only four. But they do have massive canine teeth that can bit through even Itarian steel and they fear nothing.

  From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.

  “Choose ten of our best warriors and prepare for a hunt”, it was the King who gave those orders and it would not take long for them to be carried out. Arn had spent the better part of the night moving through the wagons and making sure that all was as it should be. He talked to the Elders and listened to them speak of their needs and settled quarrels between several of them about where their wagons hand been placed or the noise that came from another tent. He also sat with the warriors and shared tankards of Po with them and listened as they spoke of pass glories and how any of them were worth two of the Norgonie. And more than once he had to cool the temper of a Nomad who had too much to drink and wanted to test his strength with a fight with one of the Forest-dwellers. But for the most part the evening went quietly a
nd by the time he got back to his tent he found Andra sleeping soundly. And not wanting to disturb her he lay outside under the stars and past the night thinking of his youth and the many mistakes of his past. But now it was a new day and there was much to do.

  Arn dressed himself in his armor but he did not sharpen his war-ax for he knew that hunting in the forests of Caltarine called for a different weapon, a weapon that would strike fast and hold deep in the flesh of the fierce Sagar cats. He also understood that the warrior armor of his tribe would not be enough to guard against the attacks of the Lords of the Greenwood. And this was not all that filled his mind for he saw the jealousy in the eyes of Ishea and he knew all too well how much that hatred could cause pain.

  Andra is in danger, he told his mind, she will try and do her harm, I must keep her by my side. He reached over to a long shaft of hard wood that was leaning against his tent and took it in his hands. It was the length of his body and more and at one end was a spearhead that had hooks set in the blade so that it would hold fast when driven into flesh. At the other end was a spike with a hook attached and a small ax head, the shaft itself was made from Balbar wood that made it as hard as iron. The King turned the weapon over in his hands and felt its weight, it has been a long time sense I held a Kagar, he thought, he spun the spear over his head and brought it down fast with it spear point thrusting outward. He smiled and placed the weapon back against the tent pole, and then as he tightened the straps around his leg braces his mate emerged from their tent.

  Andra wore a simple robe and shaded her eyes against the harshness of the bright suns. She gave a little grunt of disapproval at having to rise up from her sleeping mattress and begin the day, then she saw Arn dressing in his armor, “are we going to war?” she asked jokingly.