Chapter 11. Laughter in the Night
Flower of night, petals of white.
Jewel of beauty under moon lit sky.
Touch not the stem for you shall die.
Law of the Moonbud.
The night sky was clear and the moons of Gorn, seemed closer than they had ever been before. The Nomads celebrated under the twinkling stars and the Washa fires burned brightly. The hunt had been successful, the sound of drums and laughter, filled the night air, as everyone, the young and the old, danced and sang under the heavens.
Everywhere, the Outlanders celebrated, they told stories of past hunts and adventures. The children listened wide eyed and wished they were grown, so they could show how brave they were. They chased each, other pretending they were great hunters and the Elders smiled at them. They knew it would not be long, before they took their place in the tribe, making the Almadra even stronger.
The King sat with the warriors, drinking heavily of Po and eating more than his fill of succulent Rimar meat. Agart sat beside him and recounted the day’s events, “I think it is the first time, I ever saw a King fall off his Whiptail,” he commented, “but then, you were never much of a rider.”
The warriors laughed at the King, loudly, it was not a sign of disrespect, for this was a celebration, it was time for good humored fun, even if it was at their leader's expense.
Arn took a deep gulp of his wine, then turned to his brother, “As I remember, you had to be tied onto your saddle as a boy.” Agart smiled back, “that was because I was so eager to join the hunt.”
Again the warriors laughed loudly, Arn looked over at his sister, she had been drinking even more Po then usual and was feeling very euphoric. Almec was with her, making sure, her cup was kept full of the sour wine. The King lifted his drink to her, “Here is to Seeda, the first to bring down a Rimar. A brave warrior and great hunter, may she live long and bare many strong children.” Her children will be strong and their children will be even stronger.
The warriors held up their drinking horns and spoke as one, “Seeda, warrior and hunter.”
They drank deeply, a tipsy Seeda, smiled and stood up on rocky legs, she looked at her brother and the other warriors, through the dim veil of Po, “To Arn, a King among men and a brother to me.” She lifted her cup and drank what remained, spilling some of it over her face and down her ample chest.
Almec stood up and took her by the arm, saying, “All good warriors know when to finish their fight.” He helped her to sit down beside him.
She smiled at him and gave him a kiss. “If I am to have many children, I will need the help of a strong warrior,” she laughed. “One that can stay in the saddle all night, if need be.” She gave him a very passionate kiss. Almec looked a little embarrassed and had to push the drunken Seeda away. He turned to the others, “I hope the Gods will grant me strength,” he laughed; we will be mated and you will bear my children.
The warriors laughed again and the King made another toast, “A drink to strong warriors.” Lifting their cups the warriors drank deeply.
Andra was sitting with the warriors, she felt a little out-of-place at first but after a time, the warmth of the nomads and the strong Po, made her feel right at home. When she was a soldier, she had laughed and joked with her comrades in much the same way. It seemed that the universe, was not so big as she thought; soldiers are the same, no matter where you go, these warriors are strong and brave. Without them, what awaits me? I’ll stay but Moonbud? That’s no name for a soldier of the Selcarie.
Arn had noticed Andra all night, he was not sure, why he liked her, she was too small and her hair was too short and she was a Half-Soul. That and many other reasons, made her totally unacceptable, as a mate for a King. The tribe would never stand for it, ideas like that had to be driven out of his head, it was not the will of the Gods, it was not their way.
As he looked at her, his head was filled with many ideas; she did prove herself to be strong and brave in the hunt and she is learning the tribe's ways. The more he thought about it, the more his head spun, he made up his mind, not to think about it anymore. Let the Gods worry about it.
Arn stood up and moved closer to the Washa fire, he looked at his warriors, “Today we named a new member of the tribe, she has proven herself strong and brave and I have given her the name Moonbud. Spread the word to all the Almadra’s enemies, we have a new warrior, may she live long and bare many strong children.”
The warriors repeated the King's words, Andra looked at Arn then stood up, she walked over to the fire and stood next to him, she smiled. “Thank you but I’d rather not be called Moonbud, I’m not a flower.” I did love flowers once, my home, was surrounded by them.
The warriors started to laugh and Arn looked hard at her, “It is a good name for you,” he said.
Andra shook her head, “I’m not a little plant it’s a silly name.”
The King smiled again, “The Moonbud flower, grows under the night sky, its smell is sweet but it has sharp thorns that will kill a man, if he comes too close.” Then he took one of the Dragon's Teeth from her belt and held it up for all to see, “You have sharp thorns too, it is a good sign.” Sharp thorns and beauty, a good mate for a King.
Andra smiled; they weren’t making fun of me they were honoring me! She took the dagger back from Arn and put it into her belt, she said, “It’s a good name, I guess.”
Arn handed her his drinking cup; a good mate for a King? It is not our way!
Andra took the cup; Moonbud, its bad name really, she took a drink.
The warriors held up their Po, then as one, they recited the Law of the Moonbud.
Flower of night, petals of white.
Jewel of beauty, under moon lit sky.
Touch not the stem, for you shall die.
They shouted out her name over and over again and laughed long and hard.
Arn heard the warrior's words; if I touch her, will the Gods punish me with death? It was something, he thought, never to ask himself but there it was.
The sound of the warriors, carried over the oasis and into the High Priestess' tent, she was deep into her evening prayers and resented hearing the name of the Half-Soul, being shouting. Obec stopped and turned to a naked Soffca, kneeling beside her.
“valcoush, valcoush, sacrilege, sacrilege, its goes against the will of the Gods, to give a tribal name to an Off-Worlder, the Gods will punish those responsible.” If the Gods will not, I shall!.
The old woman got off her knees, walking over to an ornate chair, she sat down. She looked at the statue of the first God, Isarie, its golden surface, shone brightly in the dim ritual fire that blazed on the, altar stone. Around the statue hung mist of incense, slowly burning in silver braziers. There were many small animals, lying dead at the foot of the God, the Holy Woman had offered them, along with plates of delicious food and sweet-smelling flowers. They had offered up the correct prayers and followed all the rituals precisely, to ensure the continued good will of the Gods.
This, did not bring solace to the High Priestess' cold heart. The Gods see all, the paths of the Almadra can be seen clearly, We are The Chosen of Isarie, faith in her, is the only way to salvation, she speaks to me and I speak to the tribe! She listened to the laughter again; why can they not see? Karn is dead, Karn is dead! For a moment or two, she let the image of the dead King fill her mind; so long ago and now he is dead. She drove the offending images from her thoughts; now his son is King and Arn is clearly not a leader for the Almadra. He is too certain of his own judgment and not the will of the Gods. He has corrupted the ways of the tribe, by bringing outsiders into their midst and now he names a new warrior, not a Nomad but a weak Half-Soul. How long will I have to tolerate these insults to myself and Isarie? No, it is not something that will stand. The God’s will awaken and new times will come.
“The Gods are not content,” she muttered to herself, the same words she had spoken to Anais. The poor fool, is sleeping soundly in the chambers of my Handmaiden, how
easily he has been corrupted, a few nights of pleasure and he forgets everything. He should be cast out and forgotten, for what he has done but I still need him. His time will come soon enough, then the Gods will have their way with him; she thought.
She looked at Soffca and motioned for her, to bring her drink, the young woman, immediately brought her a golden cup, she filled it with aged Po. The old woman drank slowly, savoring its taste, then spoke to the Handmaiden, “Make sure the young Prince remains enraptured, he is a fool but he can be an instrument of the Gods.”
The young woman nodded, bowed low and left the old woman, she returned to Anais' bed.
Obec sat, staring at the statues of the Holy Gods, outside, she could hear the merriment of the tribe and it made her angry. She stood up and went to the statue of Isarie, as the High Priestess looked at the golden God, she seemed to hear someone, calling her name, it was like a whispering ghost.
A Sand Drifter? One of the wandering spirits of the dead, were they sent by an angry God to take her away and make her soul wander in the wastelands forever?
The old woman suddenly felt a chill in the warm night air, she got to her knees and held her arms out to the sky. “Hear me oh mighty one, it is I your servant, let me hear your words, so that I will be able to do your will.”
She waited and her soul listened, nothing came, slowly she lowered her withered limbs and looked down at the ground.
Isarie does not hear me!
She started to weep, they were the tears of a lover, who has found no love, “Forgive me great Goddess, you will speak when I am worthy,” she said softly.
She lifted her tired head and once more, listened to the mocking laughter of the Nomad women, outside her tent. They were happy and would lay with their husbands tonight. They would feel the warm embrace of a man’s arms around them, they would make love and fall asleep, holding each other close.
Obec would spend the night alone and in prayer; Karn is dead, Isarie does not hear me!The old women began to cry again, only the immobile statues of the Gods, would count her tears.
Osh did not join in the festivities, he had been too busy caring for his Sandjar son, it seemed that night time, was his favorite part of the day. He had been eating everything that he could find and was learning fast. The old man still kept him away from the other members of the tribe, it was for his own safety. The Nomads, considered the little green infant, a dangerous scavenger and they thought he should be killed. Or at least, cast him out. More than once, he had to rescue the little creature from other children, who were tormenting him. They called him a scavenger and worse, they threw stones, then ran away laughing. Now, he kept a close eye on him and that meant not partaking of the dancing and fun.
He sat, looking at the small child before him, in the short time he had been caring for him, he had grown considerably, he could walk quite well and even make a few simple words. For the most part, he just grunted and ate, the old man also found that the infant was male, it was quite easy to see. He knew Sandjar males, had rather unusual genitalia. There was a bony plate flap that covered their loins, guarding them against injury. That was good, he had thought of the little creature more, as an adopted son, than a daughter.
As the warrior's festival drums sounded all around them, he handed the boy a piece of raw Rimar meat. Sandjar preferred to eat their food uncooked, they consumed mostly flesh but would also consume fruit, or Kasha bread if there was nothing else. The baby took the morsel and started chewing greedily.
The old man picked up a flap of Rimar skin, it was the soft patch from under the creature's neck. When cleaned and dried, it made a passable paper for writing upon. He used the juice from sand beetles, as ink, although it did smell rather bad.
“You seem to be advancing well,” Osh said as he looked him over, “Your bone structure is firm and your hearing and eyesight, seem to be at an acceptable level. I would say you have evolved into a fine example of your species.”
The old man scribbled onto the Rimar skin.
The child stop chewing and looked at his adopted father, he tilted his head and made a soft mewing sound.
The old man put his writing down and smiled at him, “Yes I am talking to you, I know your intelligence level is substandard but I hope you can understand, at least a little of what I say.”
Again the baby Sandjar made a sound, then he stopped eating and waddled over to the old man, he held out his thin greenish arms and looked at Osh.
Osh did not know what to do; was this some sort of Sandjar communication, was he asking for something? Maybe he is sick, or injured? He quickly looked the child over and found no wounds or signs of sickness; why is he holding his arms out? “I am sorry, I do not understand, could you be more specific?” He asked, he scratched his large head, “You are not injured or sick and you have plenty to eat, what do you want?”
The Sandjar child came closer to him, again holding his arms out, suddenly the old man understood, he wanted to be picked up. At first, he laughed at having forgotten such a simple thing. He looked around, to make sure no one was watching, he reached out and picked up the green creature, then carefully sat him upon his lap. He looked into the baby Sandjar's yellowish eyes.
“I am sure, the odds of you having any feelings for me, are very low but I want you to know, it would not be altogether upsetting, if you did.”
The child started to make a gurgling sound, even with his strange face and rows of sharp teeth, it was easy to see, he was laughing. It was an innocent laugh, a laugh that would have pleased the Gods but was only heard by the old man.
“I really wish, your communications were more precise, simple grunting and body movements, are not an efficient means of relaying information.”
Osh knew then, this was no longer a scientific experiment, it had gone far beyond that. If only his colleagues, back on his home-world, could see him now. He had been the recipient of many awards, for his data processing, in geology, history, biology and more. Now he was an outcast, on an outcast world.
Is there really such a thing as luck, or is it just a joke of the Gods?
All that did not matter, right now, he was a father with his child. Let the stars laugh at him, despite of his better judgment, he started to laugh too. He was not sure how the Sandjar expressed joy but he thought he saw the little green child smiling.
“Well it looks like I shall have to give you a name,” he said, looking at the child, “Let me think. You’re a carnivorous biped life-form of the Endo-Nomarus species, so I think, I shall call you Endo, yes, from now on, you shall be named Endo.”
The child looked at his new father and began making a soft mewing sound, the old man took this as a sign, that the name was acceptable.
“Then it is settled, now, if you are wondering just what an Endo-Nomarus species is, I shall enlighten you, it really is a fascinating subject. You see, there are Twenty-Seven known species of Nomarus, in the Outer Rim Worlds, of those, you would be categorized as a type three. That is, a carnivorous scavenger, with low level interactive communication and....”
Little Endo, did not understand a word, of what the old man was saying but he did like the sound of his voice. He sat quietly in his father’s warm lap and listened, making more mewing sounds. The old man did not know but it was indeed, the way Sandjar laughed.
Arn had left the warrior's fire and was walking in the desolate sand dunes, not far from camp. Andra had watched him go and without anyone seeing, she followed him. She really did not know why, half way from the oasis, she almost turned back.
I’m too old, to be acting like a schoolgirl with a heart weight on some boy, I should go back to my tent and start acting like a grown woman; she thought. She started back, then she noticed the King was carrying something, in his left hand. In his right hand, he held his heavy ax, warriors never seemed to go without. Watching him leaving the camp, aroused her curiosity.
The sounds of the celebration, were fading into the night, Andra saw Arn stop, he stood by a group of
large rocks, atop a dune and looked up at the night sky. As Andra grew closer, she could hear him talking in a low voice. She did not understand, exactly what he was saying but the way he was speaking, seemed to indicate that they had a lot of meaning.
As she drew near, she stopped behind a boulder, not making a sound, she saw what he had been carrying. It was a small gold vessel, in the shape of a child, Arn lifted it up to the stars, she heard him speak, “The Salt of the Earth.”
Reverently, he poured the vessel's contents onto the sand. Andra saw Grana crystals, fall like shimmering water, onto the ground, the King put the empty vessel into his belt. There was a moment of silence, then he spoke again, this time it was loud enough for anyone to hear.
“Are all Off-World females, as curious as you?” He turned and looked right at Andra, even though she tried to hide behind the rock.
She knew it was pointless, trying to conceal herself any longer and she moved into plain view. She stood there, looking sheepish for a moment, then she walked slowly over to Arn and looked at him.
“What were you doing?” she asked; just like a schoolgirl!
Maybe it was not the best way to address a King but Andra had never been good at protocol, it had got her into trouble in the past. She always thought it was a waste of time, she liked to get to the point. She stood silently waiting for a reply.
Arn knew, if Agart had been here, he would be very upset, at the woman for asking the King his business. He wasn't. It seemed a simple matter, just to remind the woman to whom she was talking.
“I was, remembering someone, who is gone now,” he said, he looked up at the moons overhead, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Yes, I have a brother but I haven’t seen him since the war. He was...” her voice trailed off when she remembered her brother; my brother, you stayed behind, while I went to fight, now you are dead. “I don’t like to talk about him.”
Arn pointed to a small moon overhead, “We call that small moon Eka, the other moons are its brothers and sisters, together they travel the skies and sing songs to each other.” Yes, the moons, they are the family of the sky.
“Was that what you were doing, singing to the moons?” she asked.
The King looked out over the distant sand dunes, he spoke in a low voice, “No, I was, remembering a lost brother, I was praying to the Gods to care for him, the Grana was an offering to them.” My brother, the brother I never knew.
“Your brother was killed?” she asked; is my brother alive? No, he died long ago.
Arn shook his head, “No, he was my womb brother but he was chosen, to be with the Gods, while I was chosen, to be with my tribe.”
Andra did not understand what he was saying but from the look on his face, it was a subject, Arn did not like to talk about. She decided to change the subject, “Driving a wagon, is a lot easier than riding a Whiptail, I don’t know how you can sit in a saddle, all day long.”
The King had to laugh, “A Nomad is born to ride the lands of Gorn, I was given my first Whiptail at an early age. I had barely seen two cycles, before I was riding beside my father.” My father, forgive me. “He was a great leader and a good King;” forgive me!
Andra sat down on a low rock, she adjusted her robe, she was used to it now and liked the way, the moonlight made the colors look richer.
“I never knew my father,” she said bluntly, “he died when I was very young but I found out later, he'd gone off with another woman. I tried finding him once but I guess he didn’t want to be found, so I just let it go. It was alright anyway, my mother took good care of us.” I wish, I had known my father, would he have loved me?
Arn came over and sat down beside her, as he did, her heart beat faster.
Schoolgirl! Stop it! You’re a grown woman, “Where are we going?” she asked.
“We are not going anywhere, it is a warm night and I think we should stay here,” he answered. You are a King and she is a Half-Soul, never forget it.
Andra had to laugh, “No, I mean where are you taking the tribe?”
Arn also laughed, “Oh, we are going to the City of the Talsonar, there we will trade for weapons and goods.”
“Are these Talsonar like you?” she asked, “No, they are like you,” he replied.
“What do you mean like me?” Andra asked.
“They are Half-Souls, they are not The Chosen of the Gods, they come to take our lands and destroy all Outlanders.”
Suddenly both of them, felt a wall come down between them, it was true, that Arn was a Nomad and Andra was an Off-Worlder. Nothing could change that, for a moment, neither one of them spoke, finally the King broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Does your arm still hurt?” he asked.
Andra rubbed the arm, she had used to lift Arn during the hunt, it was still very sore, “Yes but I will be fine in a few days.”
The King laid his ax against a rock and stood up. He began looking around at the heavy boulders near to them, he overturned them, one by one, until he found what he was looking for. Under one rock, were several large, almost transparent worms. They were about as long as a forearm and as big around, as middle finger. Arn picked one up and brought it over to Andra.
Andra was curious, about what he was going to do, with the huge worm, he sat next to her, “What are you going to do with that?” she asked.
Arn suddenly squeezed the wiggling creature in his hand, then he smeared the clear body fluid onto Andra's arm.
“The bite of a Rock-worm is poisonous but their body fluid, can stop pain and speed up healing,” he said. He rubbed Andra's arm vigorously; she has a strong arm, she would bear strong children.
Andra had to bite her lip, she really hated the idea of having the worm’s insides, all over her arm. She suddenly felt her arm, starting to warm, it was a pleasant feeling and after a moment or two, the pain went away. She moved her shoulder, around and around, it felt like it was never injured.
“It worked,” she smiled, “I guess worms are not so bad and they’re a lot better than spiders.”
The King gave her a strange look, “You do not like spiders?”
Andra shook her head, “I hate them, once when I was a little girl, I fell into a ground spider hole, they swarmed all over me, horrible. My mother heard my screams and came out to rescue me, I never want to see another spider again.”
The King turned his head away; the lurkers in the darkness, she does not know.
Andra rubbed her arm again and gave a little laugh, “You’re going to make a good husband for some lucky woman.” Schoolgirl, stop it!
The two warriors sat looking at each other for a moment, then Arn got up suddenly, “There are many dangers in the sands, I should take you back, to the safety of the camp now,” he said.
She looked around at the soft sand and the glimmering moonlight, playing over its rolling surface, there was nothing to fear here, “I’d like to stay here a while, if you don't mind.” Grown woman!
The King glanced around at the sand for a moment, “Very well.”
Andra looked at the young King; he has scars but he’s still very handsome and his tattoos are not really ugly. “Did it hurt, when your faced was marked?”
Arn unconsciously raised a hand to his face, “Marked?’ No, I was just a child when they put the marks of Kingship on me,” he looked at Andra, “I see no rings on your ears, do you have a mate?”
Is he asking me if I have a husband? “No, I don’t have a mate. I was too busy to find one, besides, you can’t raise a family, when your world is at war.”
The King thought that over for a moment, “The Almadra are always at war but we still bring young into our tribe.”
Andra suddenly felt very uneasy, all this talk of children, she changed the subject. She reached down to pick up the heavy ax, lying next to them but as she was about to, Arn grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I was just going to see how heavy your weapon was.”
The King picked up his ax and put it to his other side, away from Andra, “You must never touch another warriors tooth, it's not done, it would bring disaster on those who did.”
“A tooth?” she asked, “You call your ax a tooth?”
The King smiled at her, “Yes, it is the tooth of Isarie, you must never touch it.”
She held up her hands, “I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I guess I still have a lot to learn about your ways.”
“That will take a lifetime, are you going to be staying with us for a lifetime?” Stay with us, stay with me.
Andra, felt a small electric spark shoot down her back, she did not know why but the idea of spending a lifetime with the Madrigal, did not seem that far fetched. She was going to say something clever but before she could, Arn’s body suddenly tensed.
His voice was soft but filled with a warning, “Do not move.”
Andra didn't move, long years of training as a soldier, had taught her to follow orders. She scanned the sands for any sign of danger but saw nothing, “What is it?”
Before he could answer, the sand beneath their feet began to shift, they both tried to grab the rock but it was too late. As the sand parted, a long dark, scaled head, shot up and looked at them, it was about a meter in length, with large yellow eyes. It opened its mouth, displaying a set of long razor sharp teeth, with a loud hissing sound, it struck!
Arn only had a second to think, he could reach for his weapon and let the creature have the woman, or push her away and hope his speed would save him. Without any further thought, he struck out with his arm and Andra went flying.
A snake like monster, rose out of the sand, it had a long body and several, thick, webbed arms, used to push it through the soft sand. It was covered in glistening black scales and when it opened its massive jaws, a long purple tongue darted in an out, smelling the air.
Arn's movements were like lightning, he jumped to one side, as the creature’s teeth raked his shoulder. Blood began to flow but his speed saved his life. He jumped to his feet and tried to find his ax, before he could, the creature was upon him. It hissed and spat, its long neck coiled back, for a death strike. The King knew, he would need the Gods on his side, to elude the monster's gripping teeth. He tensed every muscle in his body, ready to react, with jaws wide open, the creature's yellow eyes focused upon him. Then it struck!
Arn moved in a blur of speed, he managed to clamp his arm around the beast's neck, squeezing with all his strength. The creature’s tail whipped the sand and its body twisted from side to side. The Nomad was lifted high into the air and then driven hard onto the sand, it would have broken any other humanoid's back but Arn survived. The wind was knocked out of him but he still held the sand monster's neck, in a death grip, he squeezed with his last ounce of strength. The veins on his neck stood out and he ground his teeth in rage, the Nomad's eyes blazed with fury, with a loud snapping sound, the creature's neck broke.
The scaly body, twitched for a moment or two, then went limp. Arn held on for a while, then let the neck fall to the ground. He stood, taking in deep gasps of the night air, he looked over to see Andra, standing next to him, holding his war-ax.
She saw that the snake thing was dead. She was well aware, she was holding the weapon, she had been told, never to touch. She looked at the King, “Sorry, I just thought....”
Breathless, the King pointed towards her, he tried to speak but the words would not come, Andra just looked at him.
“Yes I know, I didn’t want to touch it but I had to, now I can see you don’t need my help.” She was about to drop the weapon, when she heard a sound beside her. As she turned, another huge snake head, rose swiftly out of the sand, its yellow reptilian eyes, fixed on her, its dripping jaws, wide open.
Without thinking, Andra swung the heavy ax, cutting the creature’s head off. Greenish blood, sprayed over her, the creature's head hit the ground and rolled to a stop. In its death throes, the jaws continued to open and close, for a time, then it was still. Andra felt the sticky liquid running down her face.
Arn had regained his breath, slowly he walked over to Andra, “Moric-Kan, Sand Dragons, they always hunt in pairs.”
Andra was not interested in Sand Dragons, she was covered in foul smelling blood and she had broken another of the Almadra's rules. She slowly handed the weapon back to the King, “Here, I think this is yours.”
He took the ax and looked at it, “By our law, you should be punished but you saved our lives. I think that is more important, than a defiled ax.” He began heading back to camp, “Come, you deserve a full tankard of our finest Po, for your bravery.”
A drink sounded very good but at the moment, she would rather have a nice warm bath. As they walked back to camp, Andra suddenly started to laugh.
“What are you laughing at?” the King asked.
“Well I may be covered in Sand Dragon blood but I’ll feel much better in the morning, Seeda’s head won’t!”
It was true, the King began to laugh, “Yes, I think I would rather face another dragon, than my sister, when the suns rise.”
There was more laughter, in all the Worlds of the Outer Rim, there was no better laughter than an Outlander's.
Nomads of the Gods Page 12