The Fallen God

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The Fallen God Page 53

by Gary Mark Lee


  But there was no need to ask for the Orb it was now part of his mind and he already knew the answer, so he turned to the Taskrobot, “set course for the forest of Caltarine.”

  And because the Shadowman now possessed the power to control the Taskrobot it obeyed, “at once my God” it said then connected itself to the command consoles and began coordinating the order it had received.

  So now the powerful steam engines began to pump and the metal monster began to move. Inside were new workers and slaves who would never rest or question or understand for their minds had been erased and only the thoughts of their master would now move them.

  Outside a heavy rain began to fall and with it came the thunder and lightning and a strong wind from the West. But the monstrous machine did not feel or see and therefore did not look up at the blackened sky and ask if the Gods were angry? It simply moved away into the darkness leaving behind the remains of its enemy.

  High above the people she now detested Egmar turned away from the night sky and slowly returned to the chamber were she would wake those sleeping and command them to entertain her, and being the High Priestess they would not refuse. And while the naked Handmaidens dance and sang they would see their mistress smile at them and move her hand in a stroking gestures as if she held something in her arms, but they would see nothing and they would be too afraid to ask.

  He is coming, Egmar thought as she held her black companion in her arms, and when he comes I will be free.

  The city of the Talsonar had once been a great and powerful place, its people feared and its governor omnipotent, but now it was a only a dwelling of the dead or dying and it would never again send out its soldiers to ravage the land. Never again would Dropships fall from the sky bringing new slaves for the cities masters, there would be no more fights to the death in its arena for the pleasures the powerful. The great geothermal furnaces that gave the city life were now cold and the workers that were forced to tend them would now care for their iron master instead. And the beacon that once sent out its light to guide the lost back to their home no longer flashed, it was all gone, destroyed by a metal God that had fallen from the skies.

  In the long cycles of the future perhaps others would come and rebuild the Great City, but for now it would be a place where only the dead would live and those lost souls seeking a place to hide.

  It was only the second time in the long life of Osh that he had ever dreamed.

  The first time was deep in the Hollow Hills when the Guardian entered his mind and spoke to him of things he did not understand. But the Hollow Hills were a long ways away and it was not the Burning Time, but never the less the Callaxion saw images before his inner eye.

  I am dreaming he told himself and hearing that a great feeling of contentment swept over him for he thought that he would never know the joy and freedom of that wondrous place again.

  He stood alone in the central hall of the ancient Callaxions library surrounded by millions of contented programs and many more information files; they consisted of all the known knowledge of the Outer Rim that had so far been accumulated by the Mind-lock capabilities of his species. And to Osh it was the greatest place of all.

  If there is a paradise he thought then this surely must be it!

  He slowly began to walk through the cavernous chamber greedily taking in all the incredible sites before him. He saw the cortex glob of the vanished Molpolus who had reached the furthest point of the galaxy and return to tell other of what they learned. He moved passed the collected writings of the Vorgus, a creature who’s brain consisted of millions of smaller minds all floating on a vast green sea that covered its home world. He stood for a time before the statue of Morn, the inventor of the Trolacian computer and recited the complex equations that were needed to access the inner workings of those vast collectors of knowledge.

  At last he came to the vortex of his dream for he stood before the central collector integrator that coordinates all incoming and outgoing knowledge of his species. It pulsed with power as its trillions upon trillions of processors and molecular feedback circuits flashed like a millions stars in a million heavens.

  There can be no better place than this he told himself everything I need is here for me.

  The Vortex began to flicker and spark, and as he looked on the Central Collector changed into an image of Atos the war God of the Nomads and as he gazed at it the figure spoke to him.

  “I am coming” it said, and although it was only the second time that the old man had ever dreamed he knew that this was very unusual.

  Stone does not speak he thought.

  He heard another voice speaking to him. “I wanted to thank you for being my friend” it said, and hearing those words the Callaxion turned to see a young woman with dark hair and a pleasing smile looking at him.

  “Do I know you?” he asked for he had forgotten all memory of Andra and the time they had helped each other survive the perils of Gorn.

  “You gave me hope when I had none” she said softly.

  Who is this strange woman? He thought, “You must have mistaken me for someone else”; he said shaking his large head.

  But the woman came closer and looked into his eyes, “without you I would have died” she said quietly, “I wanted to thank you for giving me my life”.

  Osh turned away for a moment trying to understand the strange words that he had just heard, and when he looked back the woman was gone.

  It must have been a dream, he told his mind, it was then that he realized that something very wrong was taking place, she can not be a dream for I am dreaming now, how can this be? Then he heard yet another voice.

  “Father?” it said.

  And the old man turned to see a young Sandjar boy looking at him and for a moment he did not know who this creature was or why he would call him father?

  “I am afraid you are in error” he replied “I can not have a son and even if I was capable of such a reproductive feat the outcome could not be a species like yourself”.

  “But I am your son” the green boy said, “You took me out of the desert and raised me as your own”.

  And this time the Callaxion did not speak for he knew that he was still dreaming and talking to a phantom is a useless endeavor so he turned and started walking away.

  “Where are you going father?” the Sandjar said.

  “I have work to do and knowledge that needs recording” the old man replied.

  “But I love you” said the boy.

  And hearing the word love Osh stopped and turned to face the Scavenger, love? He thought and then he remembered the definition that was listed in his collected mind,

  Love, an emotional feeling for someone or something that brings pleasure.

  And as he looked into the eyes of the green boy he started to feel something stirring deep within his heart, is this love or is my dream becoming reality? Then as he stood there the mind world around him began to melt like the wax of a candle; the great chamber shifted and cracked then crumbled into a million fragments that fell silently into nothingness. And all the while the old man looked into the eyes of the boy and listened to the calling of his heart, and when at last his dream was done and he and his son stood in a landscape of emptiness he realized something that few ever know.

  A universe of knowledge is nothing without love.

  He moved to where the green boy stood and reached out with his thin arms.

  “I love you son,” he said softly, then father and son embraced and that moment seemed like an eternity.

  He opened his eyes.

  He lay there for a moment or two as he continued to hold his son in his empty arms, then the moment passed and he sat up and looked around. He was back in his prison chamber once more surrounded by the cryptic knowledge of the Overlords, but they meant nothing to him now for all that he wished to do was look into his son’s eyes once more.

  A universe of knowledge is nothing without love, He told himself, and knowing that he was an old man he wished that
he had understood that simple fact many cycles ago.

  Anais was still a prisoner of the Norgonie but he did not feel anger towards his jailers for he knew that he had long ago made himself a captive of his own fears. But in the days and nights sense he had let light into his soul he was becoming freer then he had ever dreamed he could be.

  Now as he sat quietly in his tower cell he felt a small stream of warm sunlight touch his face, light is the gaze of the Gods, he thought, we are blind without it, it was an old saying of the Nomads but he now understood that it was wrong. I see more now than when I had site and understanding this he wondered if seeing was a curse of the Gods and not a blessing?

  He heard footsteps and he knew that Kela and two Norgonie were drawing near and in other moment the steel door to his chamber opened and then closed and he was left alone with the young Handmaiden. For a time they did not speak and the blind prince understood why, for the last time they had been together he had told her to go away.

  “Why did you come back?” he asked in a voice that was filled with both longing and questioning.

  “I came back because I had too,” she said softly.

  The young prince shifted on his filthy bed, “being a Handmaiden of Isarie you could do no other”.

  The scarred young girl moved to where he sat and put her hand on his arm, “it was not the Goddess who told me to return to you”, she said warmly, “it was my heart”.

  Anais had been a prince of the Almadra the strongest tribe of the Nomads; he had also been their King and held the power of life and death over them. On a whim he could have ordered the most beautiful of the maidens to lay with him in the night and singsongs to his glory. And in the morning he could have ordered their deaths. His tent was once filled with the gold and silver treasures of the Outlands and he drank the finest of wine and ate the sweetest of meats. But in all that time he did not have the one thing that was now offered to him for he had no love to offer in return, but now as he felt the touch of Kela’s hand on his flesh he let the last part of his closed heart open.

  “You should not love me” he said, “my future is a dark one”.

  “Then we will face the darkness together” she replied.

  The blind prince reached out and took the Handmaiden into his arms and they kissed, and although he could not see he knew that the Light had at last entered his heart.

  Chapter 36.

  The Giants of the Earth.

  Long ago in the Before Time the great warriors of Isarie walked free upon the Outlands, for their strength was without measure, and their hearts knew no fear.

  When they marched the ground shook, and when they shouted the sky rumbled, and when they died the Gods wept.

  We do not see them now for they slumber deep in the earth, and their sleep is without end, do not say their name and be mindful not to wake them, for when the Voice of Doom speaks they will once more walk the land and all will know fear.

  Old Nomad story.

  Arn could not be turned back from looking for his mate for he vowed that he would find her and find her he would. With him was the Norgonie Queen and beside her was his son, but he was not thinking of Ral and the hatred that was in his heart for him, he was thinking of Andra and what he would say to her when she was found.

  I have betrayed her, he thought, I have held another in my arms and when I did I forgot her. It was a truth that he did not want to know. What will I say? What will I say? Then he drove the question from his mind for the corridor that they were in was growing hotter with each passing step.

  They were not sure how long they had been moving sense leaving the great chamber of the deformed God, but they knew it must have been some time ago, they did not stop to rest for behind them they could hear the sharp footfalls of the Wormrow following them. At one point Ishea wanted to make a stand and face the vile little creatures but she knew that the narrow corridor they were walking in would not be to their advantage in a close in fight. Occasionally they did stop to pick a few plumped slime-slugs off the walls to eat, the purple skinned crawlers were not the best of foods but it would help to fend off hunger and their moisture would slack their thirst. And now and then they did come upon a fat Troca and although Arn found the taste bitter he knew that it would give him strength so he ate them without complaint.

  The Starfall was beginning to lessen as they moved and with it the light, soon the corridor grew very dim and it also began to ramp downward. And as it did it grew warmer and warmer, it was not much at first but with each step it seemed that the air grew heavy with heat and after a time it became difficult to breathe. But the lungpower of a Nomad was far greater then a normal human and so they were able to proceed where others would have fallen.

  The stone walls were now very warm to the touch and with them the pathway; soon there were small whiffs of steam rising from cracks in the floor and a foul smell like sulfatite or coronium.

  The King stopped for a moment as they came to an opening in the corridor, ahead of them lay several different tunnels, each one like the others and all of them filled with the same foul smell and oppressing heat. The opening was circular with a high vaulted ceiling that was cracked and pitted with age, from the breaks in the domes rock a greenish slime slowly dripped to the floor forming puddles infested with crawling things to vile to mention. There were also many skeletons about covered in dust and spider webbing, and looking at them it was easy to see that they were the remains of Wormrow. Many of the bones were smashed or cut in too and that meant that some kind of battle took place there long ago. But who killed them and why could not be made certain from the fragments.

  At the center of the opening was a massive statue of a giant warrior, he wore thick armor and held a strange looking weapon in his hands, it resembled a chamber rifle in some respects but it was far larger than the ones that were taken from the Talsonar.

  The figure was badly pitted and also covered in webbing and although its face bore a strong resemblance to a Nomad it had more of a savage or animal look then the handsome features of an Outlander.

  Ever sense Arn was a small boy he had heard tale of the Ancient Ones and how his people were once giants and how they made war with the Gods. And looking at the statue he was reminded of those dark tales and the Nomad law that says the name of those warriors must never be spoken least you wake them from their eternal sleep and they take your soul to the Pit of Marloon.

  Let them sleep, he thought, but he did raise his ax in a salute to the ancient warriors and whispered a small prayer that their souls would rest quietly in the ages to come.

  When Ral looked at the image he immediately realized that it was wearing the very same armor that he had seen earlier. He also knew the strange tales of sleeping giants that lived in the Forbidden City and as he remembered the tiny hairs on the back of his neck began to bristle with fear. As a small child his mother had warned him that if he did not eat all that was given to him the Giants of the Darkness would come and take him away. Then he chuckled slightly as he realized that he was no longer a first cycle boy anymore but a strong warrior of the Norgonie so he drove the feeling from his mind and smiled to himself.

  Giants, the voice of doom, they are only stories to frighten the young, he thought, and he also lifted his dagger but it was a sign that he was not afraid and a challenge to the demons in the dark that he was ready to fight if need be.

  The Queen also knew the dark tales of the Giants of the Earth, but she never thought they were anything but a myth, but now as she looked at the statue she wondered if the ancient story were somehow based on fact.

  The Forbidden City holds many dangers, she thought, perhaps there are still more to come? Ishea did not raise her weapon in a sign of respect but she did tighten her grip in case her question was heard by Arm-Ra and she did utter the traditional prayer to the God.

  “Ragute Ranana Trocoro Arm-Ra, all glory to Arm-Ra”, she said softly, but the King did not hear her for he was trying to decide the best path to take and after lo
oking at the different tunnels she spoke “I say we go in that direction” pointing to the passage on her left.

  “What makes you think we should go that way?” the Kings voice held a certain amount of mockery, but Ishea did not let it stop her from speaking her mind.

  “The foul smell seems less in that direction and those two tunnels are much hotter”; she said calmly pointing to the corridors on her left.

  What the Norgonie Queen said was true, the loathsome smell was less on the left then the right and it did seem a bit cooler but Arn did not take her advice for something told him to go to the right. It was not something that he could speak of clearly but he KNEW that finding Moonbud meant going into the tunnel on the right.

  “We will go that way”, he said and began to walk to the corridor on his right, and for a moment the Queen looked at him then shook her head.

  Kings are often foolish, I was always the better tracker, she thought, but she also knew it was useless to try and argue with her former mate when his stubborn mind was set, so she moved dismissing her better judgment and trailed after him.

  Ral on the other hand did not want to follow either of them, he seemed to know that something was waiting for them, something dangerous, but with only a small dagger and no armor he was forced to continue with the others. But no sooner did he take a few paces then he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps quickly moving behind him. He had only a moment or two before he saw dozens of angry Wormrow pouring into the small chamber, and he knew he must fight or die!

  In an instant Arn and Ishea also realized what was happening, they turned to face the attackers and each one vowed in their hearts to fight till the end. But as they watched the little creature’s race towards them a strange thing happened for as they approached the statue of the warrior they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. At the front of the hideous mob was the tall leader and even though he was only a short distance from the humans he did not leap for them but stood frozen in fear. After a moment he began to chatter in a language that could not be understood and as he did the others of his kind also began to murmur among themselves.

 

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