I cannot tell if this thing is evil or good? He heard his mind say, for he knew evil all to well in his past and now he wanted only good for his tribe.
Andra could feel the tension around her, but she sat calmly on her bed and held the now sleeping infant close to her. And thinking that he did not hear his words the King spoke again, “tell me, what is it?”
To this his mate smiled, “it’s a baby” she said rocking back and forth.
But her words fell on deaf ears for the Nomads did not understand and seeing that they did not she continued to speak.
“On my world our offspring are born unable to care for themselves” she said still rocking, “I being its mother need to feed it and protect it till it’s able to fend for itself”
The King approached his mate and look into the face of the child, “and how long will it be before it can hunt and fight?” he asked.
Andra knew that on the world of Gorn a cycle is approximately four of her worlds years so she quickly added up the time it would take, “she will reach that point in about four cycles” she replied.
This brought a gasp from the Nomads for everyone knew that an Outlander child could walk and talk and care for itself when it emerges from the Burning time. Now to think that this thing need to be carried about and feed and protected for a four complete cycles was unheard of for a male or female would be a strong warrior by the time they reached the second cycle.
“This thing is weak and should be left out for the Sagars” said Valen for he was a warrior of the old ways and knew that a child that needed so much care was a burden on the tribe. “We Caladons would never keep such a child”, then he realized that he was a guest in the camp of the Almadra and should not speak so, “forgive me great King,” he said bowing his head, “I am not of your tribe and we are not at the Talk Stone”.
It was then that the young warrior saw the look in the eyes of the young Touchtender, they seemed to look right through him then the look was gone.
Kela left the tent of the King and in a moment Anais also ventured outside he followed the footsteps of the young Handmaiden until they stop near a wagon and away from the warriors. When the young Prince finally stood by her side he reached out and touched her on the arm.
“What troubles you?” he asked in a kind voice.
Being blind he could not see the painful look in the eyes of the girl but his heart told him that she was not content.
“I just needed to feel the open air” she finally said, but even a sightless man could tell that she was not speaking the truth, but not wanting to press the matter further Anais pulled her into his arms.
“It has been a long day and I am weary” he said, “let us go to my tent and let the night pass”.
And feeling the warm body of the young girl against his they turned and slowly walked away.
Egmar deliberately paced back and forth in her private chambers, she was alone save for the dark companion that now sat unmoving on the ornate table near her. She moved like a Sagar cat in her lair as if waiting to spring on a helpless forest lopper and devoir it in a fury of blood and pain.
“How could he have returned?” she asked, “no one has ever returned from the Forbidden City”. She moved to one of the glowing torches in the corner and stared into its warm light, “and what is that thing that the Half-Soul held in her arms?” then she turned and looked into the burning eyes of her companion, “why did you not tell me of this creature?”
The black spider moved to a bit of stale fruit that was lying near him and appeared to suck the rotting juice from its blackening surface, “this thing was not told to me” it said, “but such a small creature cannot alter the events that are to come”
And hearing the reassuring words of her dark counselor the High Priestess walked over to the table and sat down in her chair, “no, such a small thing cannot stand against the power of Rahash”. And knowing that she spoke the truth she smiled and picked up one of the bits of vile fruit and placed it into her mouth.
Vitranius was also troubled by the events of the day, but unlike the voice of Isarie he knew that it was not the work of the Gods for they did not exist.
The High Priest had removed his sacrificial robes and wore only a simple garment of fine cloth; he looked even older then before for the day had drained him of his strength. But he would soon regain it for he chewed on crystals of Tran and ate great quantities of Troca and washed it all down with well-aged Po.
Ishea has come back and with her she brings giants, he heard is mind say as he sat staring into space. Around him were several strong Norgonie warriors and next to them were his loyal monks for he wanted to be surrounded by those that would die to protect him. The Nomad King also lives, and with him is the half-soul. The old man suddenly rose and started to pace back and forth, “the girl has brought back a child from the Forbidden City, how can this be?” He spoke out loud now for he knew that no one would dare tell others his words least they die on the fortress walls.
Being a Calaxion he was well aware of how species reproduce and seeing a baby was not something that he had not seen before, it was the manner of how it came to be and why the Half-Soul should want to care for it?
“I have not come this far to be frightened by a helpless child”
But for all his words he did not sleep that night and continued to ponder the meaning of what he had seen.
Life or death was not part of the equation of the future for Osh lingered in that place between this world and the next.
He still lay quietly in his chamber guarded by two strong Norgonie warriors least he awake and try to escape, but the warriors only saw him sleeping soundly and soon they became board and began to play Chance-cards on a small table in one corner of the room. They were taking a great risk for if they had been caught shirking their duty they would have been punished severely, but there was an old Nomad saying.
“Boredom is the womb of mischief”.
It was as true now as back then, so they put down their weapons and soon began to bicker on who was cheating and who was not.
If the Calaxion Outlander had been awake he would have quickly relived the two guards of all their possessions for he had long ago learned all the calculations that would make one a winner in that complicated game. But his ordered mind was deep within itself and floating in a timeless place far beyond the world of Gorn.
“I am at the beginning” Osh said to himself, and indeed it was true for all about him were the breeding pods of his race. The chamber the he was standing in was immense, filled with level upon level of egg shaped incubators each holding a tiny creature that had been shaped by the bio-genetic engineers of his world. Nourishment and precisely regulated and each tiny infant were monitored by a central data system that would insure Maximum efficiency. And when those children reached a certain time in their development they would be taken of that place and put into learning centers where their minds would continue to be trained.
And around him the cold chamber of the breeders vanished only to be replace by an even colder place were the learning would continue.
“This was my childhood,” he said softly, and he watched as hundreds of young children were taken one by one and laid down on operating tables were skill technicians quickly implanted small input ports placed in their tiny skulls. This would allow them to have direct access to the powerful Tollacian computers that ran most of the great civilizations of the Outer Rim.
And then that vision vanished and was replaced by the very same children sitting for days upon days learning the demanding skills that would be needed to interface with the powerful Data-Com’s. And in all that time they were never held in warm arms or had loving words whispered into their ears, for they never knew their parents and their parents never knew them.
They say that dreams are gateways into the soul and if that is true then the heart of the old Calaxion was in need of love.
There was one who indeed loved the old man but he was deep in the bowels of the earth
and a prisoner of the Forest-dwellers.
Endo and the rest of the Sandjar had felt the ground shake when the Forbidden City was destroyed, and although they were far from that haunted place the deep tunnels that were their home emitted a foul odor that could only come from burning rock and gases deep underground. The guards and the vicious Drogs that usually watched over them had to flee the noxious air, but the olfactory senses of a Sandjar are far superior to that of a human. They were equipped with a series of filtration systems in their lungs and therefore were able to withstand the vile vapor and continue to breathe unharmed.
And seeing that the overseers would not be able to return for some time the young Sandjar suddenly found the opportunity that he had been waiting for, so he ordered that the strongest of the workers begin undermining the great gates that held them prisoners. The huge iron portals were set with large hinges against the rock of the entrance tunnel, each hinge had several massive bolts embedded deep into the hard earth. But with enough time and hard work the bolts could be cut away and the gate made to open, then freedom would be theirs.
Now unseen by the Norgonie the slaves went about their work and at the led was the faithful Mog for he was the strongest of them and it was his hammer that beat the hardest. He worked without rest and as he did he spoke a word over and over and that word was
“Freedom”.
Being the “Coraw” or leader Endo stood back and watched as his people began their bid for the surface. Beside him was Rawna and being the mate of the leader she did not need to dig with the others but as she stood looking up at the young Sandjar she spoke to him.
“You once gave me food, will you give me freedom?” she asked softly.
“Of course I will,” he said with a smile, it was then that he began to think and remember is father’s words.
“A gift is meaningless, real value comes with effort”.
So now he shook his head, “I was wrong, freedom must be earned” and saying that he took his place with the others and began to dig. Rawna saw him laboring with the others and quickly moved to the one she had chosen for her mate and together they worked side by side.
For ages the Sandjar slaves had worked deep in the earth, they labored for their masters and dug the burning rock from the earth. But now they were digging for their freedom and men and women singing in contentment replaced the sound of slaves under the yoke.
The night was almost over as Arn sat beside his mate, he looked over to see the young child safe in the arms of its sleeping mother and looking at the pale creature he suddenly felt very alone.
She holds the thing like she once held me he thought would she ever hold me again?
It was a strange question to ask his mind for he knew that she still loved him for he could feel it in his mind, but at the same time he also felt that her love was being pulled by the tiny thing that she held.
All mothers love their children he heard his mind say, but still he could not help but feel that the little creature was taking away something that he wished was all his. Perhaps this thing is a demon wearing a false mask?
He suddenly felt the urge to take up his ax and dive it deep into the skull of the little monster, and following his instincts he stood up and grasped the handle of his tooth tightly. He slowly lifted it over his head and was about to strike when the eyes of the creature suddenly opened and stared at him.
The King had looked into the face of death many times and was not afraid, being a Outlander he was willing to give up his life at any time to defend his tribe, he had hunted Sagar cats and stood fast as they charged for him. He had killed a full grown Dagger mouth as it tried to drag him into the darkness of Stillwater Lake, he had swam with Fang fish in the Western Sea and he did not run from the horrors of the Valgor chasms. But now as he looked into the blue eyes of the child he felt his strength ebb away. And deep in his mind he thought he heard a voice calling to him.
“Do not fear me,” it said.
And hearing that voice the weapon fell from his hand and he turned and left the tent.
Outside he could see the morning suns begin to rise and with it would come a new day, he also knew that something was coming, something that would be more terrible then all the demons that he had ever faced. And once again as it had in the past his Nomad instincts began to take control of him. He felt the blood rising in his veins and his strong heart begin to beat with a terrible vengeance for he was a creature bred for warfare and knowing that it would soon be upon him made his soul somehow content.
It was then that he felt something else, something that he had never felt before, a strange feeling that someone or something was standing very close beside him? He had felt this only once before as a very small child but then the feeling vanished and he was again consumed by a burning desire to fight.
I will not fall he told himself I will not fall. Then he heard another voice whispering in the back of his mind.
“You have already fallen” it said, and hearing this the King knew that it was true.
There was one great warrior that did not add his voice to those in the meeting dome for Ral had gone against the wishes of the Queen and for this he must be punished. So he was taken away and placed in the very same cell that one held the Blind Prince.
But unlike the Outlander he did not sit quietly and ponder the ways of the Gods for he was a Norgonie and the one thing that all Forest-dwellers hated above all else was confinement. So now he paced back and forth like a caged Sagar cat and tested his strength against the iron bars that held him. But the bars were made from the best Itarian steel and would not give so after a time he sat and stared out the small window and into the night sky. And he did something he did not do often; he began to consider his actions and why he did what he did.
Now this would seem the right thing to do to any civilized people of the Outer Rim but to a forest Nomad it was very uncommon for they were creatures of instinct and action. They had Elders of the tribe that did there thinking for them and that was the way it had always been. The Queen would give the commands and they would obey, thinking was not necessary and therefore a waste of energy. But now as he sat alone he had no choice then to ask himself questions that had eluded his mind.
The king of the Almadra had lied to my mother and abandoned me he thought and yet she lay in his arms and fought beside him in the Forbidden City, how could she do such a thing?
It was very true that Ral was a great warrior and his victories were many both on the battlefield and with the young maidens so his tribe. Yet for all his conquests in the arms of lust he and never let love enter his heart. For him it was a weak thing, something that weakened the arm and made slaves of men.
Love is for the weak he told himself. Yet he knew that is mother was a strong Queen and therefore could not love the Outlander, but his mind still asked questions.
They why did she hold him in her arms, he could had killed me but he did not, he saved me from the Wormrow and the burning death, -- why?
These and more questions continued to run through his mind as he sat there and long into the night he listened and tried to understand.
Far from the fortress of the Norgonie and deep in the woods of Caltarine the Giants of the Earth sat listening to the cries of wild beasts and the howls of ungodly things of the night.
Acora Morinnor, the Arena of Blood had called to them and they had come, perhaps it was the ghosts of the slain that summoned them, the long dead warriors that had fought and died in the crumbling ruins. Or maybe it was the blood soaked ground that still needed feeding? Perhaps they simply found the Nomads and the Forest-dwellers too weak to be near. But for whatever reason they mounted the backs of the giant Screechers and were bore to the sacred ruins after they returned their “Naro Entaro” or King to his warriors.
They did not look up at the stars or the night moons that slowly moved overhead, they did not speak as they sat waiting for Sunbirth for there was nothing to be said. They did not sing ancient war songs to give courage
to their hearts or seek the warmth of soft arms to comfort them. They were creatures made long ago by a race seeking to conquer the galaxy and their long sleep did not change what they were or what the future held for them.
To kill and be killed.
And so they waited for their King to call them and stand by his side, this they would do till the last man. Until then they sat alone in the great arena and feasted on the raw flesh of freshly killed Sagar cats and drank deep of the burning blood.
Chapter 43.
A Call to War.
“Beating drums that call for death.
Warriors cries our souls will test.
Burning skies that all shall fear.
Blood songs sing as war comes near.”
“Steel and fire our companions be.
Crimson tooth as enemies flee.
Smoke and flames shall be our sign.
Drink their blood like well-aged wine.”
Nomad War song.
“What I say is the truth and those that say I lie are fools!” and saying this Valen stood glaring at those that had listened to his tale of a God made of steel coming to destroy everything in its path.
Seeing the young Caladon warrior standing atop a heavy table surrounded by the Outlanders and Norgonie in the meeting dome many would say it was an act of great courage for his story was foolish to say the least and brought only laughter from many of the older warriors.
“He has the mind of a Frail-leg” one Nomad called out with a laugh.
“A story to frighten first cycle children” said a Forest-dweller.
And what else could they say for what creature could defeat an Earthshaker for they were the Gods of the Outlands and nothing was more powerful. And how could an enemy give pain from afar and consume Eul as food? And then be able to heal itself with steel and grow even more in strength? And even a first cycle child would know that the Talsonar city was impregnable and would stand forever.
The Fallen God Page 63