Nomads of the Gods

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 21. The Challenge

  A warrior may challenge another.

  They will meet together in a pit.

  At that time the Gods will watch them.

  And in their hands will hold their fate.

  Laws of the Nomads.

  The Outlander Kings had sat, listening for some time, to the many warriors who came forth to have their say. They listened as Orm Relcuda, the leader of the Zengarie, accused Balgar the King of the Maringar, of taking his best Whiptail, without payment. Everyone knew, the Zengarie King, had lost his prized mount, in a bet and the Maringar King, had every right to take it. They also knew that Balgar, cheated at Chance-cards.

  They made their judgment, Balgar should pay Orm, three Sagar teeth necklaces, plus two large Rimar horns. It was less than half the worth of a good Whiptail. There was much yelling and threats, from both Kings, until the Sun-Gazer lifted his spear, then it was settled.

  There was also a female, she said, her mate, was bewitched by another woman. The other woman said, she had not forced the man into her tent, he came on his own. The women warriors were brought forward and the Kings looked at both of them. It was not easy to see, why a man would, chose one over the other. They were both tall and strong, both had long hair and well sculpted features. The Kings could see, they had proven themselves in battle, by their facial tattoos. It was a difficult choice, deciding who was in the wrong.

  Their judgment was to let them fight, so the Gods would decide who was telling the truth. They fought and when it was over, they decided, the man was not worth the trouble. Laughing, they walked away to share a tankard of Po and discuss the shortcomings of men.

  Arn listened and spoke his mind when necessary, being the newest and youngest of the Kings, his words did not carry much weight with the older warriors. They knew the Madrigal, were among the best of the Nomad fighters and they would obey their King, no matter how few cycles he had seen.

  Andra had remained silent, she listened but did not say anything. She decided it was better to learn the ways of the Nomad Gathering, before giving her views on their traditions and laws. She had learned this skill as a soldier, watch the enemy before you attack, learn their strengths and weakness, it seemed to apply here, as well as in war.

  Kadar had been watching Arn, since he entered the Great Hall. He'd known his father well and fought beside him in the last tribal war. In the same battle, with the Shadow-men, he'd lost his arm and Karn lost an eye. He'd seen the young Prince, grow into a strong warrior and now King of the Almadra but he was not sure how strong.

  The old King grasped his drinking horn and took a long drink of sour Po. He wiped his face with the back of his rough hand and looked at the Off-World woman; what is she? A spy for the pyramid dwellers, a Half-Soul who is hiding from something, maybe she's a Screel, a demon of the desert; he wondered. He took another long gulp from the horn; she looks human but a spell mask, could hide the dark creature within, she could be a Soul Gazer. The idea made him shudder; does she know my thoughts? The King knew the woman needed watching.

  It was Arn, who was his main concern, he'd heard the talk among the warriors that this new King, was strong and brave. He'd also heard that Obec the High Priestess was not, happy that the Gods had seen fit, to make him King. It may have been the flagons of Po he'd drunk, or maybe his love for a fight but he decided to test the young King's courage. He took a long gulp of his brew, then spoke in voice so loud, it could be heard over the noise in the Great Hall.

  “I have heard it said that a Half-Soul has been made a warrior of the Madrigal. Does this mean the tribe no longer bear strong children?” he took another drink of Po.

  Arn looked at Kadar; he is testing me, he thinks I'm weak, I must show him I'm not! Arn replied, in a tone to match that of the old King, “And I have heard that a King with one arm is not a strong leader.”

  This cut into Kadar, like a thrust from a Dragon's tooth. He banged his drinking horn on the Talk-stone, sending up a plume of Po, “I stood beside your father and gave up my arm, when you were still just spider urine!”

  Arn looked him straight in the eye, “Perhaps if you were a better warrior, they would not have named you, Lostlimb!”

  This got the old King on his feet! His face turned red and the veins on his neck stood out like bands of steel, “Why you sun baked sand crawler,” he shouted.

  There was a tense moment, the warriors standing behind their Kings, put their hands on the daggers at their belts.

  The two Kings stood looking at each other, Kadar's face slowly changed, his worn features softened and his lips pulled back into a broad smile, “Spoken like a true King!” Then he began to laugh, “I knew when you took my ax that there was courage in your heart,” he lifted his drinking horn, “Here's to Arn, a brave King of the Almadra!”

  The Great Hall erupted in thundering shouts and the warriors drank deeply, they returned to their normal activities and the sound of drinking songs filled the air.

  Agart had looked everywhere for Seeda. He looked near the cooking area and the Po barrels, hoping his sister had stopped to eat or drink, before joining them. He checked her tent, also Almec's, both were empty. He went to the Iron-workers, to see if she had been there but they said she had not. Finally, he went to the Spikeback corral, for no other reason than, he had looked everywhere else, she there either.

  Next he tried searching the outer camp, the tribe's Long-Range weapons were placed there, in case of an enemy attack. It was not, likely to happen because the Nomads were here in strength but it was difficult to break some habits.

  When he had almost given up, he spotted Almec sitting with Kuno, they were sitting before a blazing Washa, roasting large portions of fresh Rimar meat, they had also been drinking quite heavily.

  Agart walked towards them.

  Almec had drunk more than usual, he was also talking more than usual with his old friend. It was easy to see that he was still upset over what he said to Seeda. He took a deep drink of Po, then he looked at his companion, “You were right about women, the Gods made them to punish us!”

  Kuno took a drink from his horn and then a bite of Rimar meat, “Well if that's a punishment, then I will gladly endure the pain.” Kuno could see, his friend was in no mood for jests, so he put his big hand onto his shoulder. “I can see something is troubling you, I am not very smart and do not have the wisdom of a star gazer but I listen well.”

  Before Almec could answer, Agart came into their firelight, “Do you know where Seeda is to be found?” he asked angrily.

  Almec shook his head, “No, is she missing?”

  Agart started walking away, “If you see her, tell her the King is not pleased!” Then he vanished into the cluster of tents.

  Kuno did not say anything, he just looked at his friend, they had grown up together and he could always tell, when Almec was troubled. They sat for a time sipping at their drinking horns.

  Finally, Kuno spoke, “Seeda is missing, shouldn't you look for her?”

  Almec gave him a hard look, “Why? Am I mated with her? Do I rest my ax beside hers? Well do I?”

  It was rare for Kuno to see his friend so upset, he knew this was no lover's spat or a misunderstanding under the covers. This was something that cut deep into Almec’s heart.

  He waited for a time then he spoke again, “When I was a young boy, my father gave me a small Spikeback to raise. It was a very bad tempered creature and many times it would stab at me with its tail and I would run to my tent crying. As I grew up, I got used to the pain and came to care for the beast. On occasion it would still hurt me but when it died I cried, I guess I loved it, in spite of all the pain it caused me.”

  Almec took a drink, “Yes but Seeda is far more dangerous than any Spikeback.”

  Kuno gave a sigh, “Yes but perhaps you are the Spikeback!”

  Almec stopped drinking and stared at his friend, “You should have been a soul shepherd my old friend.”

  The big warrior shrugged his lar
ge shoulders, “Perhaps but soul shepherds are not allowed to drink,” he took another long gulp of Po; me a soul shepherd? He giggled to himself, I would not trust any God that would have me as a Holy man.

  Almec stood up slowly and without saying another word, he walked away from the Washa fire.

  Kuno was now certain, he'd made the right decision, when he decided not, to be mated again.

  It was very late in the night, before the Kings were ready to leave the Talk-stone, it had been a good meeting and many things had been resolved.

  Andra had listened quietly and held her tongue, sometimes it was hard to do. She knew that many things the Nomads believed to be true, were not. They were not weak of mind, they simply did not know any better. She was glad that Osh was in their wagon, he would have found himself in deep trouble, contradicting some, of the tribe's beliefs with simple physics.

  On the other hand, she found some, of their laws, made a lot of sense, they were harsh but much easier to follow than some civilization's overly complicated laws. If a person did wrong, he or she was quickly punished, then by the law of the Nomads, it was forgotten. Much better, than the endless trials and appeals that left those who had been wronged, waiting and waiting, for their day in court. It seemed to her that the Nomads, were much more civilized, than many of the worlds she knew.

  As she listened, she also understood that honor and bravery, counted for much more than wealth and power. Standing up for yourself, was paramount in their culture and fighting for your honor, was the only way to gain respect.

  Honor and respect, I used to have that once but now I am alone; she thought.

  Agart had returned from his quest to find his sister. Wherever she was, he knew she could take care of herself, still if she was not back by morning, he would send the warriors out to find her. Now he sat beside his brother and listened to the Kings, he did not like the Off-Worlder sitting with his brother and his faced showed it.

  Arn glanced at his brother and saw the ridges across his forehead, a sign he was not, happy, “Is the Po to sour for you?” he asked smiling.

  “No, the Po is well-aged and the Rimar meat is not too tough, all is well.” The woman is taking my place.

  Anyone could see, it was not the drink or the food but something else. Arn leaned close to him, so no one could hear, “There is something eating at you, like a Blaze-ant, now what is it?”

  His brother looked him in the eye; how can I tell him, the Off-World woman should not be at the Talk-stone? The Gods will punish him for this sacrilege? How can I say that? He forced a smile, “It is nothing, the smoke from the fires has clouded my head?” Then he got up, “I will check if the Queen is well,” he walked away.

  The King watched him go, perhaps the fires are a bit smoky. Fresh air, will clear his head; he thought.

  He turned back to the Talk-stone, Kadar was just finishing a story from his youth.

  “When my father found out I had taken his Whiptail, he was so mad, he beat me until his arm tired!” The old King took a piece of Rimar meat and continued, “Then my mother beat me!” His mouth was so full, he spat small pieces of flesh over the table and into the Off-Worlder's face.

  Amid loud laughter, Andra slowly reached up and picked the small pieces of meat off her face. She looked hard at the old King, “I can see why your mother beat you, you eat like a pig!”

  Kadar cocked his large head to one side, “What is a pig?”

  Andra just shook her head and continued to remove things from her face.

  The old King took another bite of meat but he chewed and swallowed it, before speaking again, “I've heard that you can fight, are my warriors speaking the truth, or do they lie?”

  Andra smiled, “I can fight if need be, as for your warriors telling the truth or lying that I don’t know but I hope they can talk without spitting!”

  A hooting sound went up from the warriors, as they heard the Off-Worlder stand up to the old King.

  Kadar wiped his dripping mouth with the back of his thick hand, “Are you saying my warriors are not, what they should be?”

  Arn wanted to say something but he held his tongue, it was not his place to interrupt at the Talk-stone, every warrior stood up for themselves but he did look at Andra and smiled softly.

  Andra knew the old man was testing her, once she stood up to a General, when he was making comments about her company and in her eyes this was no different. She turned to look back over the Talk-stone, “Your warriors look strong but strength alone doesn’t win a battle”

  Again there was more hooting.

  Kadar could see the woman was getting the better of him; A King can do many things but must never look weak! He leaned over the stone, “Perhaps you would like to challenge that strength?”

  This time there was no cry from the warriors, this was no simple jest, this was a challenge!

  Andra was about to smile and apologize for her words, when she looked around, the warriors were staring hard at her. She looked at Arn, there was no smile on his face; I have been challenged can I refuse? No, I would be even more of an outcast then I am already; she thought. She looked at Kadar; he is far past his prime and has only one arm, how hard could it be, to beat him in a fight? When I do, will I have respect; she decided to take up the challenge. “I will fight!” she said loudly.

  One of the Kings rose from his seat, “You cannot, this is the Talk-stone and all Nomads who speak here, are free to share their minds without fear of a challenge.”

  There was a clamor from the warriors but Kadar spoke above the din. “This woman is not an Outlander, therefore she is not bound by our laws,” then he looked at Andra again. “What do you say Half-Soul, do you fight or run?”

  Andra looked the old King in the eye, “You only have one arm, as anyone can see but maybe your hearing is weak as well, so I’ll repeat myself…I will fight!”

  A great cheer arose from the warriors, the drums of the Great Hall beat loudly and more barrels of Po were opened. Nomads ran from the Great Hall to spread the word, there had been a challenge!

  Arn leaned over to Andra, “You are brave to accept his challenge.”

  She smiled at him, “Don’t worry I won’t hurt him.”

  The King looked at her with a questioning look, “Kings do not fight at the Gathering, they have a champion.”

  The Off-Worlder watched as a warrior came forward, he stood beside Kadar. He was a giant!

  A foot or more, taller than, any other in the room. At the corner of his mouth, he had a long scar that pulled his lips back, it made him look like he was growling.

  The old King began to laugh.

  Andra looked at Arn, “Does that thing have a name?”

  The King nodded, “Yes, they call him Ashra-Doom, it is from the old language.”

  “Ashra-Doom, what does that mean?” she asked.

  “Earth-shaker,” he replied.

  Andra suddenly realized, she would gladly trade respect, for a good blast rifle.

  Seeda had been walking the open plains of the Greenland’s, she'd spent the night beside a small lake. Luckily, Dagger-mouths preferred deeper water, to lay in wait for their prey. She did have to fend off a small Rimar, it came to the lake to drink and picked up Seeda's scent but a few shouts and some well-placed rocks, sent the beast running.

  Seeda lay quietly, dreaming. In her dream, she was standing in a dark empty cave, there were strange sounds all around but she could not understand their meaning. Then the darkened cave started to glow, the walls slowly turned from dark to light, they began to burn, brighter and brighter, then the room exploded into crimson fire.

  Flames engulfed her naked body, she stood transfixed unable to move but she did not feel the burning heat. Instead, her skin began to freeze, she shivered, as the cold flames rose around her. Then in the frozen brightness, she saw a figure coming towards her, it was Almec, he moved through the fire and stood close to her, he smiled and she could hear his words.

  “The Gods will arise!”
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  He took her into his arms but as she looked at him, his handsome features began to change. He withered and died, the flesh fell away until there was nothing but the face of a grinning skull, mocking her with horrific laughter.

  She started to scream.

  Seeda sat bolt upright and glanced around quickly, it was a dream a silly dream, all is well; she thought. She saw the suns of Gorn, starting to rise in the sky and saw a tiny Burrow-baby, sticking its head out of its home. The small furry creature smelt the air for a moment or two, then hurried back into the safety of its underground home.

  It disappeared as Seeda watched, she heard someone calling her name. Was it a dream? Am I really hearing a voice? A moment later she recognized it.

  Almec had returned to the place where they quarreled but she wasn't there, he spent the rest of the night looking for her. Along the way, he counted the many reasons, why he should never speak to her again but for every reason, he found himself thinking of another, to stay with her.

  He remembered the women who had danced for him and who offered to bring him food. He could see their faces quite clear in his mind and their wonderful smell in his nostrils but their images faded, until only Seeda's figure filled his brain. No matter how much he tried to drive her out, she always returned to haunt him.

  Finally, he decided they were not, meant to be together, the Gods had been playing with their hearts and now they had grown tired of them. He was going to tell Seeda, they had no future and would not be mated. He would not stand in the shadow of her tent again. As he came close enough to see her face, all reason melted from his mind, like ice in the Burning Time, he went over to her and gazed into her eyes.

  Seeda looked back at Almec, “I was wrong,” she said.

  “Wrong, about what?” he asked.

  She smiled softly, “Mating with a Whiptail, would not be better than you!” She took him into her arms, “I am cold,” she whispered.

  “So am I,” he said softly.

  They stood there for a long time, they let the morning sun's bright sunrise fall upon them. There was a warm breeze from the North, it carried a song from the Gods, all was well and, the land was theirs, a bright day, a day of life.

  They did not feel the warmth!