“Not yet”, replied the King, “but we are going hunting so you better prepare yourself”.
The Selcarie girl moved to the Washa nearby where a large iron pot was warming water and splashed a handful of its contents onto her face in hoping to clear the cobwebs from her mind. “Hunting?” she asked looking about her, “I didn’t know there were Rimar here”.
“We are not hunting Rimar”.
Andra dried her face with a soft cloth and looked at her mate “Oh, what will we be hunting?”
The King looked at her hard; “In the old language they are called Ero Dargoth Morkan, the Roaring Death”.
Osh and Endo had heard about the hunt but they would have been of little use in helping Andra and the King. But that did not stop the young Sandjar from taking out one of the Chamber rifles from the wagon and checking to make sure that it was working well. The Callaxion stood by the Washa and stirred a pot of soup; he was dressed in his usual robe and wearing his woven cap over his large head. He was pleased with the way the soup had turned out and added a pinch of Ulon spice to make it just right. Then as he added a few more lumps of Eul to the belly of the Washa he looked over at his son.
The old man could see that the green boy was not behaving, as he should be, all morning long he had watched as he paced about and paid little attention to his writing lessons or the activities that was swirling about them. He had also not eaten any food sense Sunbirth and that was unheard of for a Sandjar, now he viewed his son loaded and reloading the Talsonar weapon over and over again.
Something is troubling him? He thought, but knowing the erratic attitudes of a young boy he decided to be subtle in his questionings, “the soup is ready if you’re hungry?” he asked in a calm voice. But there was no reply from his son, “I think it’s a very good soup if I do say so myself, I even added a few Troca to give it spice”, but again there was no answer from the boy who continued to check the rifle in his hands. It was at this point that Osh decided that subtleties was not appropriate, “son, I am speaking to you, and I want you to answer!” he called out loudly.
This time Endo spoke back, “oh sorry father”, he stammered, “I, I was just thinking”.
This answer pleased the adoptive father for above all he wished his son to be a civilized being and rational thinking was the first step on the road to higher learning. So he poured a bowl of soup for them both and walked to were his son was sitting and handed him the warm broth, “now tell me, what have you been thinking?” he said with a smile.
The boy put down the weapon and took the bowl from his father, “you have taught me many things, how to speak, how to write and how to learn, but there is still so much to know, when will I understand everything like you?”
For a moment the old man said nothing, my son is growing faster than I thought, “I don’t know all that is to be known”; he said shaking his large head “no one can know everything”.
“Why not?” the Sandjar boy said as he put a spoonful of warm soup into his mouth.
“Well, because it would take many centuries and more and we cannot live that long” the old man replied.
The boy chewed his food then swallowed it down, “I understand father, but what if you could, would it make you content?”
Knowing all that is to know? Osh thought, now that would be a great accomplishment, again he smiled, “yes, I think it would make me very content”, he said.
Those were words that he would someday remember.
The word had gotten out about the forthcoming hunt, and all through the fortress people were talking about who would survive and who would not return for they all knew that Sagar Cats were once the protectors of the Golden Hall of Isarie.
The story was an old one handed down from generation to generation, and although the Outlanders could not agree if Isarie or Arm-Ra ruled the holy place of the Gods they did agree that there were no fiercer creatures then the Lords of the forests. Legends say that long ago the Gods created a beast to guard their home against demons and the giants of the Darkness, so they created Sagar cats and filled them with unstoppable strength and without fear. They placed them at the doorways to the Golden Hall and chained them there with strong links. But they were so powerful they broke free of their shackles and attacked those who made them, and it was only after a long and bloody struggle that they were captured and held at bay. But rather than destroy them the Gods placed them in the forests of Caltarine and there they would stay to test the courage of the Chosen.
And there were many who went into the woodlands to pit their strength and bravery against the guardians of the gates, some returned with the skin of the great beasts and hung them on their walls and wore them as garments so that all might know them as heroes. But still others did not return and mothers and fathers wept for the loss of their sons and daughters. But that did not stop hunters from seeking out the great Cats and looking death in the face. Now Horcon the dragon headed God of destiny would choose those that would live another day and those who would fill the belly of Ero Dargoth Morkan.
Near one of the great doors of the fortress ten warriors of the Norgonie stood next to ten warriors of the Almadra. They did not speak as they stared at each other but you could see they were growing impatient waiting for the King and Queen to give the order to start the hunt. The Outlanders wore their strong armor but they held a long two-headed weapon rather than their war-axes, and rising up from their shoulders were plates of steel set with spikes to protect their necks.
There were also long spikes on their arm braces and fists and rather than their tall horned helmets they wore helms with more steel points and an articulated steel flap that covered the backs of their necks. All this was to protect them from the sharp claws and crushing jaws of the Sagars.
The Norgonie wore no such armor for they considered it a cowardly way to hunt the great beasts; they relied on their swift reflexes and knowledge of the forest to protect them. And although they knew that some of them would die they would rather face death with only their skill and courage and not end there life like an Outlander.
There were several Drogs with them, the snarling beasts pulled at their neck chains and snapped their great jaws together in anticipation of what was to come. They had gone on other hunts and they bore great scars on their shaggy bodies were the claws of a forest cat had raked their hide. But they still licked their fangs and drool fell from their mouths as they pawed the ground, and now and then one of them would emit a howl that sounded like the painful cries of a demon from the Pit.
They would not be the only animals in the hunt for the warriors would be riding on the backs of Rowgor, the great forest creatures were well suited to the Greenwood and shared it with the Sagar cats. But the felines rarely attacked the large Thundra for they traveled in herds and only the weak or very young fell victim to fangs and claws. The Whiptails of the Nomads would not be used for they could not be controlled if set upon by the great cats.
Now the Outlanders and Norgonie stood quietly as Ishea walked towards them with Ral at her side. They were both dressed much the same as their warriors except that Ral was naked from the waist up except for the traditional green and brown striping and carrying a long spear in one hand and a short hooked ax in the other. There was also a slight smile on his face.
Ishea wore a short tunic of finely made chain mail; it fit closely to her strong body but allowed her to move freely, she also had spiked gauntlets on her hands and leg guards also set with spikes. Her head was covered in a steel helmet set with a row of Sagar teeth above the brim and in her hand she carried her spear, as she moved to her warriors she held her head high and looked every bit the Queen of the Norgonie.
Arn and Andra stood side by side and watched the leader of the forest people approaching. They both had readied themselves for the hunt dressing much the same as the warriors with the exception of the weapon that the Off-World girl carried, for she held her war-ax and not a spear like the others. Arn had explained that there was no time to
train her in the use of the long shaft and that she was better off welding her Tooth. She on the other hand wanted to use one of the captured Chamber rifles of the Talsonar but the King told her she would be branded a coward and face the ridicule of BOTH tribes. So not wanting to be made Outcast again she settled on her ax and put her trust in her training as a soldier of the Selcarie to carry her through.
She would come to regret that decision.
Ishea stood before the King and his mate, “have you prayed to your God?” she asked.
Arn smiled back at her, “I will do that when I return,” he said with a smile.
Then the Queen turned and looked at the girl by his side, “tell me do half souls pray?” there was a mocking tone to her words that did not go unnoticed by Andra.
“I don’t know” she replied with a smile, “When I find one I’ll have to ask”.
The Selcarie girl could see that her response cut deep into the arrogance of her rival and that was fine with her, she thinks she is a Queen, she thought, but I have seen barmaids with more dignity.
Ishea showed no sign of her feelings she just smiled back, “let us hope you live long enough to do that”, she said, Arm-Ra will make sure she does not live out the day----and if he does not I will! And without a further word the Queen and Ral moved to where the Rowgors were tethered and mounted their beasts.
The massive creatures were covered in a heavy chain mail with larger steel plates attached to their sides and backs, covering their great heads were more plating and fix to the two long tusks were steel coverings that ended in sharpened spear like weapons. The riders sat in saddles that had protection at the front and rear and stirrups for the feet, and attached to those saddles were large quivers holding several extra Kagars. To guide the huge beasts one only needed to push in with the legs for these Rowgors were well trained for the hunt and would not run in the face of danger.
Arn had told Andra the basics of riding a Rowgor but as the Selcarie girl moved to her mount she wished she had not consumed so much Po at the feast. Then she remembered the words of her old training Sargent. She could see him now standing ramrod straight and shouting at her till the veins stood out on his thick neck.
“Drink is an excuse for the weak!” He would say, and she let the words echo in her mind.
She stood with her hand on the climbing rope that dangled from the saddle horn, she looked over at the Queen who was sitting up straight in her seat and seemed perfectly at ease. What she can do I can do! And thinking this she pulled herself up and sat proudly with her ax in her hand.
Arn settled himself in his saddle and gripped the handle of his Kagar in his strong hand; feeling the great beast under him and hearing the cries from the Drogs made his blood race. And although it had been many cycles its seemed to him at he had only been gone a short time, all the memories came flooding back and it filled him with excitement and longing. Longing for careless nights under the stars with Ishea in his arms, but then he looked over at Andra and all other images vanished from his mind.
I will not betray her again he thought I will not!
Suddenly the words “OPEN THE GATE” were called out by the Queen and with a banging of drums and cheers from the people of the forest and the Outlands the warriors of the Chosen began to ride out of the fortress and into the forests of Caltarine.
And as they rode Ral watched the face of Arn, I will live to see that face staring back at me impaled on my spear.
High atop the pyramid shrine of Arm-ra Oramadis stood looking down at the warriors going out to face death and although he should have been praying for the safe return of his Queen his mind was filled with other thoughts.
How long have I waited? How many cycles has it been? But as he began to calculate the exact number of Burning Times and the coming of the Hagar he had seen he stopped himself and turned to one of the Holy men beside him, “do you understand what I have commanded you to do?” he asked.
The tall shaven headed man nodded, “yes your holiness, it will be done as you command”.
And with a gesture of his thin hand the High Priest watched the man go and turned back to look down from his vantagepoint. So many cycles, but now I have a companion to help me in my quest.
The old man stood there for a long time thinking of the helpless past and dreaming of a ruling future.
Egmar could see the column of Rowgors as they moved through the gate. She stood with several of her Handmaidens high atop the Holy Wagon and could clearly see her son and his half-soul mate as they passed out of the safety of the Fortress and into the dangers of Caltarine. The Holy Mother was dressed in a dazzling robe of white with large silver and gold necklaces hanging from her neck and a tall headdress of colored Doff-bird feathers. It was attire fit for a sacred ritual and not for ordinary display but it was of little concern to the High Priestess as was the safety of her offspring.
Hunting Sagar is very dangerous, she thought, but if he dies it is the will of Isarie and not mine. She turned and looked up at the tall pyramid of Arm-Ra and saw the gleaming gold dome, the Norgonie are fools they worship a false God. She knew this because it was true; she also knew that the Nomads were fools for believing in Isarie, for now she understood that ALL Gods were false, all except one.
He is coming, she told her mind, and he will destroy all in his path.
She looked down at the black spider in her hand, she stroked it gently and smiled, “you are the only one who speaks the truth,” she said softly.
“Yes”, the dark spider replied, “for I know what is to come”.
Again the Holy Mother smiled for she knew that soon all would bow down to her and the God that would rule not only the forests of Caltarine but all the lands of Gorn.
The hunters rode their Rowgors out of the great fortress and into the emerald forest and as they moved the riders held their head high but each one knew that some of them would not be coming back. But death was always a companion for an Outlander and Norgonie and they did not turn from their path or shake in fear, rather they sang a song of past hunts and laughed in the face of destiny.
“Death waits in the forest of green.
It comes on padded feet unseen.
It calls us all to fight and die.
We answer with our warrior’s cry.
Crushing jaws and claws blood red.
We sing our song for the coming dead.”
They rode deep into the dark woods following a broken stone road that was covered in leaves and woodland vines, but soon that ancient byway vanished and the great trees of Caltarine closed in about them like a dark hand of a giant. All about them were twisted trunks and land creepers that shut out most of the sunlight till it appeared that it was dusk rather than midday. Here and there golden shafts of light thrust downward through the overhead canopy but they were few and only reminded one that it was day without the warmth and life that it promised.
The deep forests of Caltarine were bursting with life, but it was a strange and twisted form and did not make the heart rejoice. The air was filled with darting birds and flying reptiles of all kinds, there was also a great number of Arrowtails and Nightcriers, and fur covered primates that swung from branch to branch and emitted a wild scream that sounded like a wailing child. There were colorful winged Airfloaters and humming Barkborers, but there were no Sundroppers for they could not see through the dense foliage and therefore could not fall upon their prey from high above.
As Andra rode she became more comfortable with her mount and soon she could control the great beast with as much ease as a seasoned Norgonie. She learned that they were not much different than the big Cammolars that used to come with the traveling pleasure fairs on her Homeworld. She remember with a smile when her mother took her and her brother to one and they both got to ride the huge animals, Simon cried from fear but she enjoyed herself and wished that she could have ridden the friendly creature all day long. Now she sat tall in her saddle and looked around at the darkening forest.
This is a m
agical place, she thought, a place where all things are possible, she remembered the many stories of haunted woods filled with witches and monsters that her mother use to read to her at bedtime and how little girls and boys would become lost in them. But she also remembered that at the end of the story a brave soldier or Prince would rescue them and spend the rest of their lives living in a great castle. But that was only a story and her Homeworld was destroyed long ago and knowing this she tightened her grip on her ax and scanned the dim green world about her.
I’m not a child anymore, she thought, I am a warrior of the Almadra.
Arn on the other hand was eager for a fight. Maybe it was his Outlander instincts for battle and warfare or maybe it was to ease the tension that had been building ever sense he looked into the green eyes of his former mate. But try as he might he could not drive all thoughts of her out of his mind, even now as he looked over at her sitting proud and unafraid he felt stirrings in his heart.
She is beautiful, he thought, in all the lands of Gorn there is no one who can stand beside her, then he remembered his promise to Andra and knowing that he had spoken such things to his mind made him angry. Why does my heart betray me? This was a question that he could not answer. I am King, I am the leader of the Norgonie, and I will not let my heart rule me! And telling himself so, he turned away from the woman who plagued him and thought only of the hunt and the blood that was to come.
Ishea was also eager for death to come, for although she was a Queen the fires of battle burned deep within her soul, her heart pounded and she gripped the handle of her Kagar tight, she listen to every sound that emanated from the forest around her. She knew the woods well and could tell each and every cry from another and knew just what creature had made it and why. Her father had taken her on her first hunt when she was just a child and she had seen many brave warriors’ fall victim to the snapping jaws of the great cats. But seeing them torn to pieces in front of her eyes did not soften her longing for the chase.
The Fallen God Page 30