“Increase speed to one hundred percent,” shouted the metal man and then he removed his interconnecting digit from the command console and stood in front of the Orb. He looked up to see the red glow from the sphere and he understood that if something were not done soon the rein of Atos would be over.
Then something entered the mind of the Shadowman God, perhaps it was a malfunction in processing or maybe it was a miss routing of circuitry, or perhaps it was a human thing? But for whatever reasons an idea suddenly sprang into his ordered mind.
Rain, he thought, rain will dilute the potency of the corrosion. And if that could be slowed until they escaped the deadly mist then he could continue on his God quest.
But the sky above the mist was clear and there would be no rain, but if Dietas the water Goddess would not oblige then he would make his own.
“All Talsonar report to outside and await orders” the Shadowman said, and deep inside the great machine his orders were obeyed. The creatures that had once been the rulers of the Stone City rose up from their storage coves and moved to the corridors leading to the outside. Along with the robot men were many Repairbots and Spotters, they moved quickly and soon they exited the hull and stood awaiting orders from their master. And as they did the mist began its work, the metal armor that protected their skin began to discolor and soon tiny bits of alloy began to flake until it evaporated in the thick air. And if the humanoids had been able to feel pain they would now be screaming in agony for the flesh that was not covered by metal began to burn. But they were no longer things of flesh and feelings, the Orb had made them into mindless beings that obeyed and felt nothing. The deadly mist would have killed them instantly if they had still retained the lungs of a human, but when they had been reprocessed by the Orb the organic air transfers they once had were replaced by more efficient hydrogen oxygen filters. But even these advanced mechanisms would not last forever in the corrosive vapors.
Safe inside the chamber the Shadowman gave the order that he hoped would safe him, “begin reconfiguring of water terminals”.
It was his plan to order the metal men to divert a portion of the water flowing into the massive steam engines and use it to dilute the acid mist long enough for the moving fortress to find safety.
“Scan for escape heading” he commanded the Taskrobot.
“Understood my God” replied the drone.
And it interfaced with navigation to seek a direction that would take them out of the deadly land and into a place that they might stop and make repairs, but as the long-range scanners reached out they only reported more acid mist, there seemed to be no escape.
“Termination of sections twenty four and twenty seven” the Taskrobot spoke, “penetration of inner hull in seven point nine time periods”.
Although the Cyberman was no longer truly human it still possessed a mind with enough feeling to know that death was approaching, and like all humans it understood that soon there would come an ending to all his dreams of glory and revenge.
How can this be? He thought, I am a God and Gods never die! Then something entered his mind, he could not know that it was a memory from the Orb’s past, for he now believed that all images of his inner mind were his and his alone. He saw himself floating around a great star named Procus, and as he did time seemed to stand still and he could not calculate if it was a day or a thousand days? But now his mind focused on one thing.
The wish to die.
And so the metal man sat down on a nutrient conduit near the Orb and let his weary mind fill with images of blackness and a sleep that never ends.
I should rest now he thought a long rest that will bring and ending. So he closed his eyes and began to drift off into a place that all living things must one-day travel, a place that knows no pain. Yes, I will rest now.
And once again the image of the female with the tiny thing in her arms crept back into his mind, he saw it clearly, a helpless creature being held and cared for by the strange woman, and the more he looked the more he felt content.
I will rest.
Outside the chamber the deadly mist was taking its toll, one by one the weaker Talsonar fell victim to the penetrating air. But they did not cry out in pain as they were brought down for they were far beyond that now, they simply stop moving and toppled from the racing Iron God to be consumed by the demon vapor. But when one died another took its place and the work continued, the Repairbots and the Spotters were made of Itarian steel so they fared much better then the ones constructed from flesh and bone. But still they began to deteriorate, but they could not go against their command orders and they worked on. And soon the task that was given to them was completed and several conduits fanned out from the water supply tanks and over the main surface of the great machine.
Inside the chamber the Taskrobot spoke, “command completed, alternate water connections ready to engage”, but there was no reply from the human or the Orb and the Taskrobot repeated his report, “Command completed, alternate water connections ready to engage”, but again there was no response from its master. So accessing a little used secondary program the drone took the responsibility on its self and gave the order to precede. “Begin dilution of corrosive atmosphere” it said.
And outside its command was obeyed, soon a great spray of water began to stream over the huge machine and with it came the desired results.
“Corrosive effects of surrounding mist has weaken twenty eight percent,” it reported.
But its masters did not hear for now they were floating in a dream of death, all they cared about was and ending to their existence and an end to their pain. And all the while the image remained.
What is that thing the female is holding? They thought, but they had no answer to that question.
Now it would have been the end to them and an end to Atos but for one thing, the Shadowman was a Nomad in spite of all the scarring and replacement of organs and inter cranial connections. For at the core of his being was the strength of an Outlander and a Nomad NEVER gives up a fight once it’s started, they will fight on and on until they are killed, they cannot be reasoned with or turned aside. So that spark of his heritage began to burn deep inside him and soon it turned into a fire of life, a blaze of will that could not be ignored. So the image vanished from the metal man’s inner eye and was replaced by the image of his goal.
I will not rest he thought, Atos is the God of war and I will not rest!
The Shadowman opened his eyes and turned to the Taskrobot, “divert maximum water to the outside plating, continue at one hundred percent speed find an escape!”
“Understood” said the Taskrobot, and once more it connected to the navigation console and began to search for a way to safety.
Outside the deterioration continued but at a slower rate, still it would not take long before there were no more Talsonar slaves to tend to the conduits and the Repairbots and Spotters disintegrated into useless mechanisms.
The Shadowman/Cyborg stood before the Orb and burned with an inner fire.
I will not fall he told his mind I will continue and find my enemy!
Then came a rumbling and as the metal man looked up he saw a section of the hull begin to give way and he knew that soon the killing air would surround him and he would die. But still he did not run or bend his knee to ask forgiveness from the Gods. Rather he stood proud and defiant.
“I will not fall!” he called out.
And as if to answer him he heard the Taskrobot speak, “directional heading has encountered an obstruction ahead”
And reaching out with his mind he saw a great wall of stone set with a massive door of steel and in an instant he knew that it was a way out.
“Continue at one hundred percent speed!” he screamed.
And being unable to turn away the Navigation console spoke, “contact in seven point one time cycles, impact”.
Hearing this the Task robot repeated the information; “navigation reports that we shall impact on structure, alternate course must be t
aken”.
But the Shadowman only stood and waited.
And as the first mist began to enter the chamber of the Orb and the God man the Taskrobot reported what was about to happen, “contact.....NOW!”
And then the huge machine hit the ancient wall and there was a sound like the crashing of titans and the chamber shook like a leave caught in the winds of a summer storm. The metal man was thrown to the floor and the command console sparked and sputtered as circuits were torn from their housings and interconnections broke apart.
Outside the huge Iron beast crashed through the wall and steel doorway and into a valley of rock, the impact sent down a great cascade of stone from the unstable sides of the corridor and filled the path behind the unstoppable machine. Now the killing mist had no escape and it could no longer feast on the metal monster that had entered its domain, with a headlong rush the steel creature that had fallen from the sky found safety in the Valley of Despair.
Chapter 39.
The Marchers of Death.
The Golden Hall of the Goddess is filled and all who feast are one.
Our battles are over our souls are lost our glory past and done.
For now we sleep in darkened tombs and listen as demons cry.
Until the day when we shall wake and warriors race to die.
Then once again we go to war and Gods will shake with dread.
Then all shall know to flee the path of the rising of the dead.
Legend of the Honnargar.
Arn stood unmoving and looked out over the risen army of the dead, and in spite of his fear he knew that it was not chance alone that had brought him to the place he now stood.
Even here in the darkness Isarie watches, he thought, he took a step forward and looked into the grim faces of the ancient warriors, “Na Entaro, I am King!” he shouted.
And the giants of the earth replied “Naro Entaro”.
And hearing them say that he was their King, Arn called out to them once more, “I am your King and you will obey me!” Forgetting that they would not understand his words he was about to say it again in the ancient language when the tall leader called out to him.
“King you are”, he replied solemnly.
For a moment Arn wondered how he knew what words to speak? For he could not know that they were bred to a serve a Leader, their minds could reach out and touch his so that he had only to say the words in his mind, and they would understand and obey.
But the Outland warrior did not care how they understood; all that mattered now was finding his lost mate and returning her to his side.
“I will lead you,” shouted the Nomad, then he turned to look into the eyes of Ishea, and his voice was low so that only she could hear, “I do not know how this came to be, but many have more strength then few and they will obey”.
The Norgonie Queen also did not understand how the dead could rise from their graves, but they had done so and they would follow their King, it is the will of Arm-Ra and we cannot go against the Gods, “lead them and I will follow” she said. And turning to look at her son she waited for him to speak.
Ral was shaken at the site before him, but he did not show it, now he straightened himself and held his head high, “I will travel with you...for now” he said.
The brave posture of his defiant son did not fool Arn for he was also afraid but being a King he knew that he must hide his feelings and lead. So he turned back to the risen warriors and as he did he suddenly saw an image flash in his mind, it lasted only for a moment but it was long enough to know that he was not dead and this was not the Pit of Marloon.
Andra, he heard his mind say, yes, the woman that he had betrayed in the arms of Ishea was still calling out to him. And knowing this he closed his eyes and looked deep into his soul and there he saw his mate sitting alone in a vast chamber of green crystals.
Then he opened his eyes.
“Take me to the crystal chamber”, he called out, and hearing his words the Giants of the Earth obeyed.
The huge warrior that had confronted Arn reached out and picked up the Outland King like a mother would pick up her child and feeling the iron grip of the armored giant the Nomad tried to fight back but he was helpless in the hold of the ancient warrior. Then the immense soldier lifted him up upon his back and Arn grabbed hold of the armor plating with his free hand and held tightly, but he did not let go of his war-ax and gripped it hard should he need it. Then he watched as Ishea and Ral were also picked up and put on the backs of two other giants, the Norgonie Queen also kept a tight hand on her Kagar and held it ready to defend herself if need be. Her son placed his dagger between his strong teeth as he was being lifted up but as soon as he had a tight grip he returned it to his fist. And when they were holding tight the risen soldiers began to march.
They moved over the burning floor and towards a large steel door at the other side of the chamber, and when they got their several of the huge iron men reached out and began to push with all their might against the ancient portal. Arn could see that the massive door was sealed shut by time and a set of large iron latches that would not permit anyone to pass that did not have a key. But this did not stop the army of the dead and the King watched in awe as the ancient hatch began to give way under the power of the giant warriors. The hot air filled with a loud creaking sound and a rumbling of rusted iron.
Ishea watched as the walking dead pushed against the door, she knew that it would have taken more than one Rowor to open that portal but to her surprise the hatch gave in and their path was no longer blocked.
Ral did not like being carried like a first cycle child and he fought against the warrior on whose back he now clung, but he stopped beating his dagger on the thick armor when he saw the power of the Honnargar.
Now with the door opened the Almadra King, the Norgonie Queen and the young Prince left the Pit of Marloon and entered into another world.
Andra held her sleeping child in her arms, she did not know how long she had been sitting in the crystal chamber but she felt no hunger or thirst. She sat quietly looking down at the helpless infant as it lay content in the blanket of gossamer webbing, and she began singing old cradlesongs that her mother used to sing to her.
“Child of mine, dear child of mine, sleep now and dream of me.
For I will hold you in my heart like the mountains hold the sea.
Dream of valleys filled with green and skies that shine of blue.
For I am here beside you now and will always think of you.”
All about her scurried the care taker spiders but unlike before she did not look upon them with dread for she now understood that they were there to care for her and keep her safe from all harms. She looked up at the huge crystals about and they seemed to whisper to her, it was not in words that she could understand, it was more like the soft wind on her Home-world. It told her not to be afraid for she was safe in her mother’s arms.
But my mother is dead? She thought, but the more she looked down at the small baby in her arms the more she felt her mother’s presents, she must have held me just like this she heard her mind say, and like me she must have felt the same feelings.
It was then that she realized how many other females on countless other worlds must have done this same thing, millions, billions? How could anyone count them? And it was true, down the eons of time and space all caring mothers must have done this ritual, perhaps it was something that would never change? Perhaps it will go on and on for all eternity. Then once more she began to rock back and forth and sang softly to her strange child.
Valen continued moving down the long roots that penetrated ever deeper into the heart of the Forbidden City, now and then he encountered a creature that had no name in the language of the Nomads, but most of them hurried from his path and did not attack him. Once or twice he had to defend himself from a spider that approached him but he used his makeshift weapon to drive it off, and he did manage to avoid the stinging webbing that the huge insects called their homes.
As he moved the light grew ever dimmer for the cracks in the city walls became fewer and the day was ending, but this did not stop the Caladon warrior. He simply tore dried tendrils from the massive roots that was now his pathway and wrapped them with dead moss and spider webbing, then using his fire-striker he had a torch to light his way. But still it was slow going and he stopped to regain his strength and nibble on half-ripen fruit that hung about in bunches. As he stepped down onto a limb that he hoped would support his weight it suddenly gave way and he found himself falling headlong into the darkness.
He managed to hold onto his weapon but the burning torch was ripped from his grasp, he tumbled end over end hitting other roots as he fell but his strong body and armor kept him from being killed outright and with a last bounce he hit a hard surface.
“Artock!” he called out, it was the traditional curse of a Nomad, he shook his fist as a sign to the Gods, “I am a warrior of the Outlands, not a Galu of the trees!”
He lay there for a time gasping in air and trying to focus his eyes, when at last he did he saw very little for there was no more light from the outside just a dim glow from the stones around him. After a time he sat up and took stock of himself and his surroundings, he was in a chamber of some kind, but it was mostly in ruins. The walls such as they were had large breaks and the ceiling that once covered the room had long sense fallen in. But he had been lucky for the floor was covered in a thick blanket of dead leaves and moss; it had softened his fall and prevented any broken bones.
After a few more moments he rose to his feet, he checked himself over and found only a few scratches that would not have hurt a first cycle boy. He picked up the bone weapon that had been torn from his hand when he hit the ground and made sure it was intact.
Like all Nomads Valen was familiar with Starfall, so when he saw the glowing moss covering the stone and walls he knew that he was deep inside the Pyramid City. Add to that the heat that was hanging in the air and it told him that he might soon reach the bottom and perhaps a way out and that made him content.
The Fallen God Page 57