The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  The King and his mate fought side by side, it was now that anyone could see why they were called “Moric-Kan” the Twin Dragons. They stood back to back facing three of the great cats, but unlike before Andra was no longer afraid, for the strange mental link that bonded her and the Nomad together now took over. She felt her heart racing with the killing madness that comes over an Outlander when he or she goes into battle. It was like a drug of the city dwellers, powerful, uncontrollable and deadly. She felt like this was the only place she belonged, the place where all things made sense, the place where she was meant to be. And Arn felt the same way, the feeling that now swept through his body was an old friend to him, he had known it many times, it rose up from the deepest part of his being. Taking him over and turning him into a killing machine, and now that machine was free, so taking up a spear that had fallen from a dead warriors hand he smiled like a lover meeting his love.

  As they were attacked again and again the King and his mate fought like one, they moved as if they shared a single mind, jumping, pivoting, and ever moving in a dance of death. Anything that came within their reach died and with the killing madness upon them it would not have matter if it were friend or foe, man nor beast. All would perish beneath their hands. It was the way of the Outlanders, the way of the Gods.

  As one of the Sagar came within striking range Andra move forward and waited till the head of the angry cat was only a meter or so from her face then she swung her war-ax. And with all her might she cut the head off the charging animal with one powerful stroke. Then as the next forest beast raced to them Arn spun around and caught the cat on the end of his spear, and using the powerful muscles of his thick arms he drove the point deep into the heart of the creature. It roared out once then twisted over on the ground ripping the shaft of the Kings spear from his hands.

  Defenseless now except for Andra’s weapon they turned to see the remaining Sagar coming for them. The Selcarie girl set her feet and braced herself for what was to come, but a moment before the roaring cat could leap upon her a spear came whistling through the air missing her head by a fraction of an inch and killed the leaping monster. Moonbud turned to see Ishea standing close by and she knew that the Norgonie Queen had saved her life.

  And before anyone could think another Sagar leaped upon the back of Arn, it was only his strong armor that kept him from being killed instantly. But a few more moments and the raging cat would sink its huge fangs into the neck of the Nomad and he would die horribly. Andra did not waist time in thinking, rather she moved with lightning speed and swung her ax with all her might and it hit the roaring beast on its side and cut deep into the flesh. But in response the Sagar swung out with his great paw and hit the girl hard on her chest sending her flying and hitting hard against the base of the great statue, then with the last bit of strength before it died the Sagar bore down on the Nomad. The King hit the ground hard with the heavy body of the cat pinning him to the earth, but seeing that his mate was hurt he summoned up all the incredible strength of an Outlander and lifted the huge animal off of him. A few moments later he was crouching beside the body of Andra oblivious to the battle raging around him. But the other Outlanders would not let their King go unprotected, so they jumped from their mounts and made a circle around their leader pointing out with their weapons and challenging any animal or human to come near.

  With the Nomads defending the King the Norgonie continued to fight the Sagar, but with most of their brethren dead or dying the remaining wounded Sagars lost the will to fight and withdrew back into their forest home. With on last roar they vanished like demon sprits and the last thing that was heard was an echoing cry that told all creatures of the woodlands that it was now safe to come out of hiding.

  Ral had killed three of the great cats by himself and although he was wounded he did not feel the pain for killing was part of his being, part of his soul, without it he would die. He stood covered in sweat and blood and deeply breathed in the heavy air.

  I am the greatest warrior of the Norgonie, he told himself, I am the greatest warrior in all of Gorn, but as he stood there victorious he looked over at the King and his mate. He had seen them fight together, he had seen them defeat the Sagar cats and he knew that together they would be unbeatable. But that would not stop him from fulfilling his oath.

  He will not escape me, he thought, I will find a way to defeat him or I will die.

  He would think on this in the coming days and would not stop until he found an answer.

  Arn held the limp body of his mate in his arms; he knew she was not dead for he could see the slow rising and falling of her chest. But there was a large dent in her helmet where it had struck the stone base and he could see a trickle of blood moving down the side of her face. Slowly he removed her headgear and tearing a strip of Rimar hide from his pant leg he wrapped it around her head then turned to his warriors.

  “Back to the fortress!” he shouted, “and I will kill anyone who slows us down”.

  Hearing those words the warriors of the Outlands ran to gather up the wounded and mount the Rowgors.

  Ishea now came forward and called out to her hunters “do as the King commands” she said, and like the Nomads the Norgonie quickly obeyed. She bent down beside Arn and spoke in a low voice, “she will survive, I promise”, she could see the look in Arns eyes as he nodded his head. But although she smiled she knew it was a lie for the spear she had thrown had missed it mark and killed the Sagar and not the Half-Soul girl.

  As they swiftly rode back to the Fortress Arn held the body of his mate in his strong arms, her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow and deep. The King had seen this many times after a battle; it was the time when Horcon the God of destiny decided who should live and who should die.

  War is the work of humans and fighting is the way of the Nomads. But when the battlefield is quite and the wounded are taken to their tents it is left in the hands of the Touchtenders to care for them. And using their skill and knowledge of healing herbs they would work to save the life of those who were now in their merciful hands. But they and everyone else knew that it would not be the ancient methods of the healers who would bring back life to the dying. It would be the wisdom of Horcon who would set them on the path of the living or whisper in the ear of Isarie who would then call their souls to the Afterlife.

  But all this mattered little to Arn for all he cared about was the girl in his arms and finding a way to save her, now as he rode through the dark forest he spoke to any God who would listen.

  “Hear me now you Gods, it is Arn King of the Almadra who speaks, save this girl and I will become your slave, take from me whatever you wish but give back life to my mate, do this and I am yours”. He waited for a moment and spoke again, “and if you do not I will pull down every temple, I will break every statue and I will burn every book so that no one will remember your names!”

  We cannot say for certain if any Gods heard the angry words spoken by the King, but in the days to come he would have to pay the price for his blasphemy.

  Chapter 22.

  The Watcher on the mound.

  Alone am I without a home an Outcast name I bear.

  No rest for me as darkness falls for I sleep in demons lair.

  Bitter water is the wine I drink and I eat of poisoned bread.

  My place is with forgotten souls my dreams are of the dead.

  Song of the Outcasts.

  Valen sat alone on his rocky mound and watched for a night and a day as the metal God began to change and although he was hungry and thirsty he did not let his quarry out of his site. He had left his Whiptail back at the broken wreckage and tied him securely so that he would be there when he got back. He spent the night looking down on the graveyard of broken machines and animal bones and watched as a thousand metal creatures went about tending to their master. All through the night he saw them moving about like a swarm of Blaze-ants, cutting, lifting, shaping replacing old for new, to what purpose he did not know? All that mattered was
that he continued to watch his prey. Now in the golden glow of morning he could see that the strange God was growing.

  What is it doing? He thought, and then he remembered that a mere mortal cannot understand the workings of a Gods mind and he decided that such questions were useless. But what he did know was that the metal monster was feeding on the remains of the Toys of Isarie and the fallen carcasses of legendary beasts. Form his vantage point he could see how the servants of the God removed great sections of wreckage from the ancient machines and attach them to its body. He saw them lift and then with sparking points of light fix them in place so that they could add to the whole of the deity. The great bones were also made use of; they were drilled and set with metal fastenings to the sides and back of the huge monster making it appear like some nightmarish creation of a demon’s rage.

  The God is growing that much is certain, he thought, but he also knew it was of little concern for the Trofar that had pulled it to where it now sat were dead, and without their massive strength the metal monster could never move again. It may grow but it will remain where it is. He found comfort in thinking this for now he could have all the time he needed to plan and find the one weakness that would allow him to strike.

  As he sat on his hill he watched a small Rockrunner coming near, the tiny reptile kept to the shadows of the rocks and darted from hiding place to hiding place ever watchful of predators. He stopped for a moment and turned his narrow head to one side to gain a better view of the human, then when he was certain there was no danger he darted out and found refuse under the strong leg of the Outlander.

  The Caladon warrior smiled when he saw that the tiny creature had trusted him enough to come near him for he had a Rockrunner as a pet when he was young. Now he looked down at the gray and brown reptile, “I am sorry my tiny friend” he said, “but I do not have food to share”. He slowly reached down and gently stroked the scaly skin of his newfound companion, “this is a poisoned place, you would do better to find another home”, and saying so he watched the small creature scurry away. But it only got a few dozen-meters from his side when the sand under it suddenly burst open and the head of a small Sand Dragon rose up and grasping it in his jaws it dragged it underground. As Valen watched it disappear he felt sorrow, before long he remember where he was and that the lands of Gorn were not for the weak, so he turned back to look down at the growing monster.

  I am not weak, he thought, I will find a way to kill you.

  The Darkman watched as the Repairbots reattached his left arm to the connection points at his shoulder, they had removed it to replace one of the drive mechanisms because it had malfunctioned and closed its fingers around a support beam and would not let go. The Shadowman had to stand for several hours before a spotter robot came to free him, then he had to wait again until they had repaired his arm and made sure that it was in good working order. Now with the new arm in place the human took out his anger at having to wait so long and kicked one of the small metal machines hard. The robot flew across the chamber and smashed itself against a bulkhead and with a shower of sparks it lay broken.

  The Darkman understood that the Repairbot was just a machine and not made of flesh and bone but seeing it destroyed gave him pleasure anyway.

  “I am not some slave to be kept waiting!” he shouted, “I am not weak!” And to show his rage he took up another of the small mechanisms in his metal hand and crushed it as easily as a man crushes an insect. It twitched for a moment then, when he was certain it was dead the Darkman let it drop to the floor.

  The chamber he stood in was mostly empty for the metal servants of the Orb were now working to rebuild the home of their master and were outside leaving only a handful to care for the glowing sphere. But there was one machine that did stay behind, the Taskrobot was now the central clearing place for all orders and reports that came and went form the Orb. It had the ability to coordinate many different tasks at once and also access the vast knowledge of its master, and being the only machine that had the ability to speak it had become a reluctant companion to the Shadowman.

  The Darkman paced back and forth in the dim chamber making grumbling sounds under his breath. He did this for some time then he turned to look at the glowing orb. He could see that it’s light was dim and he knew that now was not the time to ask questions of his God, so he turned to the Taskrobot nearby.

  “How long are we to stay here?” he asked still pacing back and forth.

  There was a clicking sound then the metal creature spoke to him, “how long, how long is what?” it spoke back.

  The Shadowman moved to were the robot stood and shouted at him, “how much time are we going to spend in this place!”

  Again there was more clicking and again the robot spoke, “as much time as needed to replace outmoded interactive mechanisms and incorporate redesign elements into a coordinated unit that meets the parameters needed for survival”.

  The Cyberman had heard such babble from this metal creature before and it always made his head spin, now all he wanted to do was get away from the nonsense of its words.

  “Is it safe to leave this chamber?” he asked

  “You wish to exit this complex and seek the uncontrolled environment of the outside?” the robot asked.

  The Shadowman thought this over for a moment; for it had been a long time sense he had been outside and he was not sure that doing so would be a wise thing. My enemies are outside he thought it is dangerous. He looked down at his new metal legs, I can run now if need be and then he lifted his new arm, I can crush them if I want, and finally he gazed through his new eye, I will see them coming near. So putting faith in his new body he smiled at the metal creature, “yes, take me outside”.

  “As you wish”, and without another word the Taskrobot began to lead the human out of the chamber.

  The Orb watched the half man, half-machine leave his side, but it did not matter for now they were bound together and wherever he went. The sphere knew whatever he did, and although the great pulsing mind did not know it then they would soon become far closer.

  It took many twists and turns before the Taskrobot finally lead the human to a thick steel door, the hatchway was not like any gateway the Shadowman had seen before. Instead of a square opening with hinges and handle it was round and had nothing that one could turn to open and close it. It was also much smaller than he was and if he wished to exit through it he would have to bend low and move on his hands and knees.

  “Is this the only way out?” the Darkman asked angrily.

  “It is the only way out for you”, replied the machine, “all other exits are being used for the transfer of materials and would not be available at this time”.

  “Oh very well” said the human, “open the door”.

  Once again the Taskrobot made a clicking sound and suddenly the airlock began to open and there was a burst of fresh air into the small corridor.

  The air is sweet, thought the Shadowman, he tried to remember the last time he had smelled the outside world but he couldn’t. The door opened all the way and he could see a shaft of light pouring in, at first the bright light hurt his mechanical eye and it caused him pain. But in a moment the reactive lens of the ocular device compensated for the abundance of sunshine and he could see without it hurting.

  “When you wish to return the door will open”, the Taskrobot told him, “but do not journey far from the central shielding barrier”.

  The Darkman did not understand what the metal creature was saying but he nodded his head anyway, then he bent down and crawled through the airlock and into the outside world.

  Valen could see many Sundroppers in the sky, they were more of them than usual for they had smelled the rotting carcasses of the dead Trofar and now they swirled about in greater numbers than he had ever seen. But he knew they would not attack him for it was far easier to feast on the fallen Thundra beasts then face the weapons of a warrior, and his Whiptail was out of site back at the broken turret. As he looked at them he wished
that he too could fly and see all the lands of Gorn from the view of the Gods.

  It must be a wondrous feeling to fly, he thought, but then he realized that the Sky Riders were masters of the air and their lives were not ones to be wished for, they are a dirty people and pray to a false God. Thinking this he reached down and took his Journey-Nail in his hand and held it up to look at, when I die who will drive it into my hand to hold my ax? This caused him pain for all warriors wished to be buried with their weapon in their hand and be able to carry it with them into the Afterlife, but he was now an Outcast and no Outlander would break the law and perform the ritual.

  I will die and there will be no one to place me in the ground, and saying this to his mind brought a tear to his eye for he wished more than anything to be allowed into the great Golden Hall of Isarie. There he would feast and sing and be with his ancestors, and once more see the faces of his mother and father and be content for all eternity. But feeling the wet tear run down his cheek caused him to release the gold spike and turn back to the matter at hand.

  And as he looked down on the iron monster again he was shocked to see a human coming out of the body of the God.

  The Darkman felt the sunlight on his scarred face once again, and in spite of his contempt for all things warm and peaceful his cold heart warmed a bit. He slowly walked on the metal skin of his new home and listened to the clanking sounds that his heavy legs made, and although he knew that the iron surface must have been very hot from the rays of the twin suns he felt no pain. He moved along a narrow ledge and then made his way down to a ramp where dozens of Repairbots moved up and down carrying all sorts of bits and pieces. But they moved out of his way when he came near and soon he was standing on the hard ground of his planet.