The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  “Is there danger?” she asked.

  But Arn said nothing then pointed to the floor with is ax, and looking down the Norgonie Queen could see footprints in the dirt covering the stone flooring, and being a strong hunter she knew that the imprints were fresh. But Ishea had never seen imprints quite like these for although they were human they did not match anything she had seen before. They were misshapen and bore a resemblance to the Galu of the southern jungles, but these were far smaller than the hairy feet of the jungle giants, but before she could study them more closely Arn moved ahead and she reluctantly followed.

  They walked in silence for a time more then turned a corner and found themselves in a high chamber; it had many tunnels and corridors leading from it in all directions. But it was the floor that caught the interests of the warriors the most for it was covered in great mounds of animal remains, and the rotting carcasses of Norgonie warriors. In the dim light of the Starfall Ishea could see that they were the very same warriors that rode with her son. Then ignoring any danger the Queen bolted into the room and fanatically looked to see if her son was among the dead but seeing that he was not one of the slain she turned to the Nomad King.

  “Ral is not here”, she said quietly, “nor is your mate”.

  Arn glanced around at the carnage and nodded his head, “they must have been killed at the entrance for they carry no weapons”, he said, “something has been feeding on them but I do not see how.....” he stopped speaking and raised his hand for silence.

  The chamber became a tomb as the warriors stood stone still and waited for their leaders to command them, and for a time there was no sound, then from a darkened corner of the room a soft hissing noise slowly rose up. At first it was no more than a faint murmur like the wind through the trees then it became louder and with it came the soft padding of footfalls on stone.

  Without being told to the warriors of both tribes gathered around their King and Queen and formed a defensive circle with their weapons pointed outward, it was the standard fighting formation to guard their leaders at the first sign of danger. Arn and Ishea stood back to back and waited as the sound moved out of the darkness and into the dim light of reality.

  What they saw caused them to grip their weapons tightly for moving slowly forward were things that only lived in legends. They were short in stature and humanoid but they had no eyes to speak of, just slits were the eyes should have been, they were naked and their scaly skin was mottled and covered in sores and filth. They bore no weapons other then sharp claws and a wide mouth filled with razor sharp teeth, but their thin bodies were strongly packed with corded muscles and their large heads were covered in scaly plating.

  Ishea reached back into her memory and realized that these were the Wormrow, the demons of the darkness that were spoken of in ancient stories, but she had always thought of them as fathoms to scare children and not something of flesh and blood. Then she remembered that Wormrow feasted on the bodies of Forrest Dwellers and had no fear.

  “FIGHT OR DIE!” she screamed out to the warriors, and no sooner did she say this then the naked demons fell upon them.

  The first to come within weapons reach die horribly but those behind them did not run into the darkness, rather they leaped over the bodies of the slain and tore at the humans with tooth and claw. They did not have the superior strength of the Nomads or Norgonie but what they lacked in power they more than made up for in sheer numbers, for as one died two more took its place. Arn struck left and right with his ax cutting down the little monsters like he was harvesting Kasha-wheat and what he did not kill with his Tooth he broke with his fist. Again and again he struck out smashing in the malformed skulls of the demons from the dark and felt their tiny brains turn to pulp beneath his blows.

  Beside him Ishea fought like a she-demon, her spear impaling enemy after enemy, and if one of the screaming demons came near her she struck out with her foot and smashed in his misshapen face, then spun around to ready herself for the next attack.

  And now the fighting madness rose up in the warriors and they did not think of living or dying only killing for killing sake. Arn swung his ax with an unstoppable fury, cutting down the blind creatures until he was covered in foul smelling blood and dripping gore. And all the while he smiled for this was what Nomads were bred for, this was what they did best, this was their world.

  The Norgonie Queen also reveled in the death match for the Forest-dwellers were beaten from the same metal as the Outlanders and they too lived for battle and died smiling knowing that the Gods would reward them for their faith.

  And as Ishea fought beside Arn she knew that this was how she wished to die, fighting beside the man who had so long ago stolen her heart.

  If this is my time to die, she thought, then I die content.

  The pile of the dead rose up like a wall around the warriors but still the Wormrow attacked again and again and little by little they overwhelmed the warriors until only Arn and Ishea and two warriors were left standing. And they would have been content to die then and there but an image flashed inside the mind of the King, an image of his mate and suddenly he remembered why they were here and what must be done.

  “We cannot win” he called out in a loud voice, “follow me!”

  And with Ishea at his side he moved towards one of the tunnels all the while cutting down the howling demons. They reached the portal and were just about to enter it when the last two warriors, one a Nomad the other a Norgonie turned to their leaders.

  “Go now my King!” the Outlander shouted.

  “Save yourself!” screamed the Forest-dweller to his Queen.

  They turned and standing side by side they blocked the entrance with their blood stained bodies, they smiled at each other than screamed out the war cries of their different tribes as they fell under the relentless onslaught of the Wormrow. But they died knowing that they had given time for their King and Queen to escape and that they would sit beside each other in the Golden Hall of the Afterlife. And when stories were told about them they would say that they had fulfilled their vows and died gloriously defending their leaders.

  Arn and Ishea understood what their warriors had done for them but there was no time for grieving and they raced headlong into the tunnel, and soon the sounds of battle faded and they found themselves alone in the darkness.

  Chapter 32.

  The Fall of the Talsonar.

  If a Governor is killed his power shall go to the strongest.

  Law of the Talsonar.

  Surrounding the Talsonar City were the remnants of hundreds of Dropships, most of their human cargo was now left to die for the power struggle within the stone city had disrupted the normal absorption of outcasts from other planets and there was no more room for new arrivals. So they were left outside the city and soon became food for predators of all kinds, thousands of ravenous Sundroppers feasted on the decaying carcasses and Screechers large and small came from great distances for their gruesome share.

  The Nomad tribes that traded with the Talsonar no longer ventured to the stone city and so the different factions fought for the remaining supply of Grana for without it they would soon die. A once thriving and powerful people were now reduced to scavenging and taking what they needed from others of their kind. The only thing that remained the same was power, with it one could survive, without it you would die. And knowing this the city became divided with those at the top and those below.

  High in the chamber of the Governor Tamar-Ran looked out over his domain. It was not the same place that he left when he led the Hal-Jafar to fight the Outlanders, for he was leader in name only and most real power had been taken from his hands.

  He sat now in a large stuffed chair and quietly drank from a great tankard of marsh beer, sitting on the floor next to him were two naked Sin-Cravers, both of them were female. For unlike others of is high rank he did not take pleasure in both males and females. And there were very few of his species in the stone city and these two were of exceptional bea
uty, and the effects of the pleasure drug called Ice had not yet marred their loveliness. They in turn did not mind lying with the lion man for they were well fed and he hardly struck them at all.

  Tamar-Ran thought back over his raucous life, he remembered when he first landed on Gorn, just more cargo in a Dropship, a condemned convict without any hope of returning to his home planet. He thought about his time as a gladiator in the arena and later as a Headbreaker for the Governor, he remembered his time as the Captain of the Hal-Jafar, the enforcers of the stone city. And now here he was the lord of a broken domain and a General without an army.

  He took another deep draft of his marsh beer then wiped his hairy face with the back of his hand, It was not a bad life, he thought, after all I did kill many men and there were plenty of maidens to hold. He looked around the room, it was filled with treasures of all kinds, gold and silver, finely wrought armor taken from fallen enemies, and a whole chest filled with Sagar teeth and Rimar horn. It was enough to trade for whatever he wanted, but then again he never traded for anything, he just took it, and why not? He asked his mind, I am the strongest and the laws of the Talsonar clearly states that power should go to the powerful.

  And nodding his hairy head in approval he took another long drink of his beer. Then he glanced over at his treasures and understood that they were now so much worthless trinkets for there was nothing to trade for and very soon the Grana would run out and that would be the end. But for now he had a full tankard of beer and a warm body to hold, and for the Lion man it was enough.

  To the North and just beyond the blinking light of the Pyramid City the Iron God continued to move relentlessly to the South. There was no damage from the battle with the Caladon and after refilling its water tanks and replenishing its supply of Eul it continued on its journey. But on the outside it had changed for now one could see the long-range weapons of the vanquished tribe mounted on the steel skin of the monster. The Spotters and Repairbots had worked quickly to make use of the heavy guns and although they were not the particle Blaze-cannons or hydriline torpedoes that it had used so efficiently in its war in the stars they would do until something better could be found. So now they were tied into the main weapons console and when the order was given they would open fire on whatever target the Orb selected.

  But inside the moving machine the great mind was pondering the trophies of its victory, hundreds of severed heads now sat piled one atop the other, young and old alike making a pyramid of the dead before the sphere. But to the organic mind they seem just a collection of none-functioning cranial containers that no longer had a purpose, then the more it contemplated them the more it seemed to understand there meaning and soon it found a slight pleasure in seeing them.

  Pleasure, it was a strange thing to the Orb for it was programmed to wage warfare and destroy, whether it found pleasure in that or not was irrelative all that matter was carrying out its primary purpose and nothing else. But it had mind-linked with the Shadowman and that had contaminated the organic responsive brain and now it saw things in a different light.

  “You have done well by bringing me these heads,” it said to the Taskrobot, “now all shall know that I am a strong God!”

  Hearing his master call himself a God confused the metal servant and with a grinding sound from his motor treads it drew near the glowing sphere. “In the future do you wish to be addressed as God?’ it asked.

  The Orb thought this over for a moment then spoke; “yes”, it replied.

  “Understood” said the Taskrobot, “I will make the necessary corrections”, and it moved away to do just that.

  Near by the Darkman held one of the grisly heads in his metal hands, he scanned it with his ocular eyepiece and looked deep into its organic compounds. He calculated its mineral, calcium, and liquid contents; he understood its organic functions and exactly how much sustaining fuel could be rendered from its mass. All these were things that he would have never thought about before but now it seemed to be a part of his mind and as natural as breathing. Then he laughed.

  “The Caladon are weak”, he called out, “I am more powerful than their God!”

  And now understanding why the Orb laughed too.

  Valen was still alive; he was not sure how that could be because he was still without his armor and traditional weapons, he had thought about returning to the camp of his people and taking what he needed. But he knew it was a sacrilege to touch another warrior’s weapon and it would surely anger Horgon the God of destiny and he in turn would whisper in the ear of Isarie and soon his soul would be wandering in the Afterlife. So rather than anger the Gods he left it all behind and put his trust in himself, and luck was with him for he found a dead Rimar and after driving off the Sundroppers he and his Whiptail filled their bellies with its flesh. He was still without war-ax or dragon’s teeth but he did find a half-buried Dropship and from it he scavenged a jagged piece of steel that would make an effective weapon. Now with a piece of fresh meat tied to his saddle and his hand holding steel he once more began to follow the Iron God.

  It was an easy trail for the huge metal monster left deep tracks in the soft earth and as the creature moved a great column of smoke rose into the sky like a veil of a body dancer. To an Outlander giving away your presents was a grave mistake so they always covered their tracks and left nothing behind least an enemy use it to plan an attack. But Atos did not seem to care for being a God it had nothing to fear.

  So all that day and night the lone Caladone warrior followed the metal monster then as Sunbirth rose he at last saw the blinking light of the Talsonar City. He was still a long way from the stone and steel structure but through the morning haze the beacon pulsed like a great guiding star.

  Atos travels to the enemy’s stronghold, he thought, but unlike before he was content to see the Iron God heading for that evil place. “Let them die”, he said to his mount, “they are a vile people and poison our land”, then he realized that if the steel monster destroyed the stone city it would feed on its remains and become even more powerful. I should warn them, he thought, but he would be instantly killed if he came within weapons range, so he decided to move to the high ground near the great pyramid and pray that Atos and the Half-Souls would destroy each other.

  “Nearing contact range of the designated concordances”, the Task robot reported, “we will be within firing range in six point one time standards”.

  “Understood”, replied the Orb, “you have done well and will be rewarded”.

  And once again the command robot did not understand what its master was saying for rewards meant nothing to the metal creature but it spoke again anyway, “understood my God”, it said. Then it turned away and began to coordinate the command consoles for the battle ahead.

  The Darkman now stood close to his master and with each passing day his mind filled more and more with images and information that had not been there a short time before. He saw great planets and moons, binary stars and lone chunks of rock floating in an endless see of darkness. Quasars, gas giants, radiation clusters, twin Magnorings, Inter Dimensional folds it was all there before him. He looked into the tinniest fragments of atoms and took in all the glory of the Outer Rim; he looked on as great Lightships burst apart like field melons being struck by lightning. He gazed at Ringworlds as they were torn in two by explosions that were beyond measure, all this and more flooded his mind and made him know that he too was more than a man, more than an Nomad or Shadowman had ever been. He was a God!

  But if I am a God? He thought, whom do I serve? He looked up at the glowing Orb and saw it pulsing with energy, Atos is a God and so am I how can this be? Then all that was forgotten as his mind slowly turned form calculations and programming and filled with one image that he could not understand, at first it was a jumbled scene of darks and lights then it slowly cleared. It was a vision of a insignificant female holding a tiny creature in her arms, the face of the woman was kind and loving and as she gazed at the thing she was holding she smiled,
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br />   What was she holding? He thought, what is this thing that makes her content? His mind continued to dwell on this strange site trying to understand what meaning this could have and why he should want to know?

  Then he heard the Taskrobot speak. “Enemy within range” it said.

  “Open fire!” he heard his mind say but the voice came from the Orb.

  When Tamar-Ran heard the signal alarms ring out he was lying in the arms of the Sin-Cravers but he quickly jumped to his clawed feet and began dressing in his uniform, he had just pulled on his pants when the captain of the Hal-Jafar raced into his chamber.

  “My lord”, he shouted, “we are under attack”.

  “By whom?” he shouted back.

  But the soldier just shook his head “I do not know my lord, it is some kind of, of?”

  “WHAT?” the lion man screamed.

  The soldier thought for a moment then looked at his master, “it is..Huge!”

  Tamar fanatically pulled on his dress jacket and fixed his wide belt around his middle then taking one last gulp from a golden tankard by his bed he raced from the room.

  Down the hallway he ran and although he was a big man his pace was faster than most of creatures that called the stone city their home. So after some turnings left and right he made his way into the observation room of the stone city, there were many other officers there along with some lesser Captains and such and as the Governor entered they bowed their heads in respect.

  But Tamar-Ran had no time for pleasantries and he moved to a large glass-viewing window and looked out over the landscape, and he did not need magno-glassess to see what was heading his way.

  Tamar was a veteran of many Outer Rim conflicts, and he had seen many great land war machines but as he gazed upon the steel and bone monstrosity that now threatened him he understood one thing.