The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Ral offered no such prayer for like all youth he wished only to die a glorious death, let them come, he thought, I will show them how a Prince of the Norgonie faces death. And he braced his feet and crouched low making himself ready to leap on the death warriors and die among their kind.

  Arn was also ready, he took up his weapon and gripped the handle of his ax tightly, then he held it up so that he might look at the worn edge of the metal, “we have fought many battles you and I,” he said softly. “Now we will fight one more, drink deep!”

  And hearing those words the King suddenly forgot all worries, he no longer felt weak from the oppressive heat, his throat did not cry out from thirst and he forgot why he had come so far. Now the fighting madness began to rise within him and he longed to rush into battle and swing his weapon and watch as it bit deep into flesh and bone. It was the way of a Nomad, it was what they needed, it was their food and drink, it was their world.

  Arn walked forward away from the others and stood tall and proud as the iron giants marched forward, his once shining armor was now pitted and dark, filth and slime of the underworld covered him from head to foot. But still he was a King, a leader of warriors and a terror to his enemies and no outer stain could diminish the vestige of his leadership.

  So when the first of the dark warriors was within reach he called out to him in a voice without fear.

  “Come and face me if you dare, for it is Arn of the Almadra that stands before you”, and with those words the giant warrior raised his weapon and pointed it at the Nomad. It was then that the King shouted out a war cry in the old language.

  “TRAGO DAR RAMANA!” it meant, “Death is afraid”.

  Then something strange happened for the ancient warriors stopped in their tracks and lowered their weapons, they stood motionless for a time breathing in the hot air, then the largest of them came forward and stood before the Outlander. He was almost twice the height of the King and his face bore a long scar across the left side of his jaw, he stood there like a great mountain of steel and death then he spoke.

  “narga entaro?” the giant said.

  For a moment Arn did not understand then he realized that the huge warrior was speaking to him in the same ancient language but with an unfamiliar accent, but still the meaning came through, he was asking if he was a King?

  Now in the ancient language of the Nomads the name King had many different meanings, it could mean Leader, Ruler, or Commander, or it might mean, “he who rules all”, but it still was a name that one must show respect.

  Arn still held his weapon hard as he replied to the question, “et toras na entaro”, he said, (yes I am King).

  And hearing those words the ancient warriors bent their knees and bowed before the bewildered Nomad, for he could not know that they were bred to follow a King and they had waited through the milleniums for one to come.

  Chapter 37.

  Power and Pain.

  Arm-Ra was the first of all Gods and he ruled the universe with fire and steel, but then he was betrayed by his daughter Isarie and his mate Nigor and he was slain on the field of battle.

  But with the coming of the sun he rose up again more powerful than before and cast out his mate and his daughter to a world of death and pain, and there they will dwell till the end of time for the power of Arm-Ra is without end.

  From the book of Arm-Ra.

  The fortress of the Norgonie was no longer a place of joy and singing, for in the days and nights sense their Queen had left them, the people of the Forrest grew more and more vengeful against the Nomads of the Outlands. Whenever they saw an Almadran they would speak vile words under their breath, and utter curses that the Nomads children should die and their warriors become weak. They also refused to share bread with them, or trade or give them Eul to burn, and in return the Nomads called them vermin of the trees, and eaters of worms and all sorts of names that are too vile to mention here.

  And soon the warriors of each tribe began to quarrel and draw weapons and shout challenges to one another, and if it were not for Kuno the Almadra would have gone to war. But he had given his word to the King that there would be peace between them, and the Norgonie and he would not break that oath. But he posted many sentries and gave orders that if any man or woman fell asleep during their watch he would do far worse to them then the Path of Pain.

  Ormandis the High Priest of the Norgonie also ordered his people not to quarrel with the Outlanders, and he sent his monks throughout the Fortress seeking out those who grumbled, and they in turn took them to the gates and showed them the rotting remains of those who disobeyed.

  Now the night was quiet with only the cries of the Sagar cats beyond the walls to break the silence, for there was no singing in the camp of the Nomads and the Elders kept the children inside their tents.

  Kuno walked slowly through his tribe making sure that all was in order, and that no one drank to much least they become dizzy with power and start a war with the Forrest Dwellers. But this did not stop the big Captain from replacing the water in his canteen with well-aged Po, and taking frequents drafts from it. He also wished that he could visit the quarters of Balru and embrace her, for even though their two tribes were angry there was no hatred in his heart for the big forest woman.

  After a time Kuno came to the campfire of several young warriors. He could tell that they were angry that they could not drink and had only dried Rimar to eat. So he stopped and stood besides the campfire letting them see that he was there, and after a moment he spoke.

  “Is the Rimar tough tonight?” he asked.

  One of the warriors thought the question over for a time then made his reply, “the Rimar is very tough and we have no wine to drink nor song to sing nor women to hold”, he said plainly.

  And hearing those words the big Captain spoke once again, “if the meat is too hard for your young teeth have an old woman chew it for you, and if you have no wine fill your cups with water mixed with blood. Listen to your weeping if you have no song to sing, and if you have no woman to hold run home to your mothers and tell them of your troubles”.

  The warriors understood what Kuno was trying to tell them, and after a moment they nodded their heads, it was then that the captain of the Spikebacks smiled at them. “Is the Rimar tough?” he asked again.

  And this time the warriors answered quickly, “No, the Rimar is tender and the water is sweeter then well-aged Po, we will hold our weapons tonight and fill the air with the song of silence”.

  Kuno again smiled at the young warriors and turned to walk away, but as he did he saw many torches coming towards him, and he knew that the Norgonie were on the march.

  Instantly he heard the sound of the signal horns and Nomad warriors gathering up their weapons. The cries of the Elders carried over the air as they hurriedly ran to the tents and wagon’s and began praying to Isarie for mercy. All through the camp of the Outlanders warriors made ready for battle, and quickly gathered about Kuno waiting his orders to defend their tribe.

  But the old warrior had seen many wars and was wise in the ways of battle, so as the column of Norgonie drew closer he knew that they did not intend to fight. He knew this because they were not wearing their war paint and armor, they also moved on foot and not atop the armored Rowgors as they would do in meeting an enemy. And lastly he saw in the glowing torchlight that their High Priest and not the strongest of their warriors were leading the column. And if Kuno had learned anything over his many cycles it was that Holy Men do not lead their followers into death, but rather stay behind in the safety of their temples.

  So when the Forrest Dwellers came close enough to call out he held up his big hand in a greeting to them, “it is late but if you are hungry we have some Rimar that is not to tough”. A few of the younger warriors chuckled at hearing the sharp words from Kuno, for like all youth they were content to poke a sleeping Sagar.

  But the Norgonie showed no response and a shaven headed monk came forward and addressed the Captain. “The High Priest of
Arm-Ra the greatest of all Gods would speak with your Holy Woman”, he said coldly.

  Kuno smiled and scratched his chin, “Arm-Ra you say?” he said with a wide grin, “I think I have heard of this lessor God, but our Holy Mother is sleeping, perhaps if you come back at Sunbirth?”

  Hearing that the Nomad was insulting their God made the Norgonie grumble under their breath and rattle their Kagars. But before anything else could be spoken a Handmaiden of Isarie moved to the front of the Nomads, and at her side were a dozen heavily armed Thungodra. And seeing the guardians of the Holy Mother coming forward Kuno stopped smiling and opened a path so that the young woman could stand at his side. She waited for a moment or two and then spoke calmly to the monk.

  “The Holy Mother will speak with the great and wise Oramandis”.

  And knowing that going against the wishes of the Holy Mother would bring down the wrath of the Thungodra the big captain bowed his head to the Handmaiden.

  “As the Holy Mother wishes”, he said. And then he watched as several Monks carried the High Priest on a golden litter towards the tent of Egmar. But as they walked away Kuno uttered a saying that he had always found to be true.

  “Gods sometimes choose liars to speak their truths”.

  Egmar was not sleeping even though the hour was late, for she now preferred the darkness to the light of day. She lay back on her soft bed wearing only a thin robe made from Troca cocoons, and in the pale light from the torches she seemed almost naked. Her arms were adorned with the finest of gold and silver, and beside her was a golden bowl of Tran, the forbidden crystal Grana that now filled her veins with new life. She lay there most content, for she had indulged in many vices that evening at it was not just the company of young Nomads but also the strong bodies of Norgonie warriors and maidens against her flesh. It would have gone hard for the Forest-dwellers if their tribe had found out that they were sharing the night with the High Priestess but enough gold, silver and shells could by the silence of anyone. So they were smuggled into the chamber of the Holy Woman by the Thungodra guards for they would obey without question. But the hour was late now and so they and the Handmaidens were sent away for Egmar wished to rest, but as she was about to drift off into slumber she heard her dark companion speak.

  “A false prophet comes”, it said.

  And raising from her bed the Holy Mother looked at the Book of Isarie. It was now lying on the cluttered floor like so many castoff garments, and sitting on top of it inlaid cover was the black spider of her dreams.

  “Ormandis wishes to speak with me?” she asked.

  “Yes”, the phantom replied, “but be warned he is not whom you think”.

  This brought a smile to the Holy Mothers lips, for she now enjoyed games of deception and playing Chance-cards with the Gods is the best game of all. She rose from her bed and was about to wrap herself in more appropriate attire, and then she caught a glimpse of herself in a reflecting plate near her.

  How beautiful I am now, she thought, and it was true that her body no longer bore any sign of the terrible scars that she once wore so proudly. Her skin was smooth and although she was far from being a second cycle maiden she still had that regal beauty that was a mark of her tribe.

  Seeing that she was lovely and knowing the lustful hearts of men she decided not to wear her robe and greet the speaker of Arm-Ra as she was.

  There was a sound at her camber entrance and a young Handmaiden spoke to her.

  “His Holiness Ormandis wishes to speak with you Holy Mother,” she said softly.

  “Send him in”.

  And as the Handmaiden went to carry out her mistress’s wishes, Egmar moved to an ornate wooden table at the center of her chamber, there sat a large silver wine dispenser and two well-crafted cups. A small golden vile filled with a rare fragrance was also on the table, and she splashed herself with its contents. The perfume was called “Torac-Dar” or Souls-Arise, it was made from the crushed petals of the Death Shadow, and its fragrance was said to raise the passion of a dead man.

  How wonderful, Egmar thought as the invigorating odor filled her nostrils; it reminds me of someone I once knew? But she was unable to recall just who that person was or why she should care, for she no longer had any feelings for Karn her former mate, and the long summer nights when she would lay in his strong arms. But still she wanted to dance and was about to do just that when the voice of the Handmaiden was heard once more.

  “Ormandis, High Priest of the Norgonie is here Holy One,” she said lifting the curtain that separated Egmar’s chambers from the rest of the great tent.

  It had been a very long time sense Egmar has seen the High Priest, but as she looked at him she did not see any change to his features, there was only a slight impression that his wrinkled face had grown even sourer. “Please come in and we shall talk”, Egmar said with a smile. But as the old priest moved to a large chair near the table the Holy Mother was thinking something else, he has grown weaker under the weight of his cycles, she thought. And her smile was not from pleasure on having him in her tent, but knowing that he had come to her and not the other way round.

  The old Norgonie had seated himself and adjusted his flowing robe; he waited for a moment or two then for he was enjoying the site around him, especially the crystal Tran that lay on her bed. This Holy Woman is not holy, he thought as he saw the disheveled look of the chamber and the empty wine cups and discarded robes, and his old nostrils also caught the unmistakable fragrance of Doric-Dar. This is a woman who puts her pleasure before the will of the Gods! Then he spoke in a soft voice filled with hidden meaning, “Obec is dead and you have become the Holy Mother of the Almadra have you not?”

  It was a strange way to start the conversation, for it was appropriate for speakers of the Gods to praise each other for their looks, and offer prayers for health and a better understanding between them. And forgoing all those pleasantries meant that the wily old priest was not coming to offer wisdom on the disappearance of the King.

  He is a crafty old sagar, Egmar thought, I must be wise.

  Egmar moved to the ornate table and seated herself opposite the High Priest, “Obec’s head no longer sits on her body”, she replied, “and the Gods have seen fit to make me their voice”, Obec was a foolish old Handmaiden who did not know the ways of power.

  Ormandis smiled at hearing such direct words from the Nomad priestess, she does not weaken her words, “yes the Gods are all knowing and all powerful,” he said as he raised his wrinkled hand skyward. “All praise to Arm-Ra”, and then he waited for the Nomad woman to chastise him for speaking the name of the Great God in the holy tent of Isarie. But no such words were spoken, and this made the old man’s smile broaden. She holds her words, she is careful.

  He watched as Egmars gaze moved to the Book of Isarie laying on the floor, and it seemed to him that she was reacting as if someone had spoken to her, but he saw nothing other then the old book. She is weak of mind, he thought, a frail leg of a false Goddess!

  Then the old woman’s eyes looked into his, “I have been told that you once had another name?’ Egmar asked.

  How does she know this? He thought, she may be weak of mind but she may be a soul see’r and know what lay behind the mask, I must be careful. “Does a common name hold weight when you speak for the Gods?” he asked with a mocking smile.

  “Be careful,” the dark companion said, “he is hiding more than his name”.

  The Holy Mother reached out and poured the two cups on the table with well-aged Po and then gracefully handed one to Ormandis, “you know as well as I that Isarie and Arm-Ra are false Gods as are those who speak for them”.

  It was the first time that the old man’s face showed any sign of emotion, she speaks heresy, this is someone I can deal with. And after taking a long draft of his wine the Holy Man glanced around the chamber to make sure that no one could listen. Then leaned close to the Outlander, “I knew you when you were just a maiden”, he said softly. “And when you became Queen of th
e Almadra I smiled, now you are their Holy Mother and yet you do not understand wisdom”.

  “Then speak to me of wisdom,” Egmar said as she took a sip of her wine. Let him think me weak of mind, I will play the fool for a time.

  “Your King and my Queen will not return from the Forbidden City. We are both strong but together we are stronger”, I will soon have the power of the Overlords and I will add that to the strength of the Outlanders.

  Egmar appeared as if she was thinking the offer over but her ears were listening to her dark advisor.

  “He will die when the one true God comes”, the black spider said, “but an enemy in your view is safer then a friend beyond your site”.

  And knowing that the many-legged herald spoke wisdom she replied to the crafty Holy Man of the Norgonie, “I will send for more wine for we have much to talk about”.

  The old Callaxion or Ormandis as he was known to them sat back and smiled at the Holy Mother, “yes, much to talk about” he said, when you mix words and wine wisdom soon vanishes. But Vitranius would not drink deep of the well-age Po and speak only when he was sure of his words. I will talk and she will listen and when I am done she will be my servant.

  Egmar did send for more wine and the night passed quickly but what the voices of the Gods said to one another we cannot say. But when Sunbirth rose the Holy Mother of the Almadra and the High Priest of the Norgonie called for the two tribes to soon meet at the temple of Arm-Ra and there they would speak for the Gods.

  Although Endo swung his digging pick deep into the hardened Eul his mind was elsewhere and filled with just one thought.

  Freedom.

  It was a word that he had not thought much about when he was roaming the endless plains of the Outlands under and open sky. But now his world had shrunk to a dim cave filled with only pain and suffering.

  We must escape this place; he thought for he no longer looked at his life as his own but as one shared with the female at his side. I must find a way out for her and my people, and now with every bite of his digging tool the fire of escape burned brighter and brighter.