Nomads of the Gods

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 31. Hunters and the Hunted

  All the lands I give to you.

  They are yours to rule.

  But do not enter the Forbidden Lands.

  For they are the home of Death.

  From the Book of Isarie.

  For three days and two nights, Arn led his warriors away from the Great Dome, into the Wastelands. They were Outcasts now, no Outlander would give them shelter or come to their rescue. No tribe would share their Grana or Kasha bread, their names would not be spoken or remembered in song, they were alone. The King knew he had gone against his people's laws but he could not have killed his own brother.

  The Nomads who had chosen to come with him, were of the Almadra’s best, strong, brave warriors who had taken an oath, not just to follow their King but to follow Arn wherever he ventured. They knew full well that their decision had branded them as Outcasts and that they could never return to their people. It did not matter, here they were and here they would stay. To them, Arn was still a strong Leader and a wise King, they were still his warriors and would stay at his side.

  While Arn rode, his head filled with questions, questions he could not answer. No more laws; he thought; now I have no home or tribe. I pledged to stay with Andra and I broke that pledge, now she is gone, I have forsaken everything, I am not a King nor a warrior. He looked down at his silhouette on the rocky ground. I am empty now, there is nothing inside me, I am a Shadow-man.

  The days were getting longer and longer, as the planet moved closer to the twin suns. Soon night was only a few hours long and it was little more than twilight, because of the glow from the horizon. It still gave some relief, from the heat of the seemingly relentless days. They traveled westward, without rest and little food, now they were about to enter the forbidden Poison Lands, a place of death and pain, the home of the Shadow-men.

  As the King looked out over the barren plains, he could see the vast emptiness that lay before him. As far as his keen eyes could see, there was nothing, nothing but jagged rocks and endless sand, dotted with the broken remains of rusting machinery and the dried bones of ancient behemoths. He knew that entering the forbidden land, meant almost certain death. If not from the Shadow-men, then from the unseen demons that rotted your flesh and made you one of the walking dead.

  The Poison Lands; he thought; the land of the Shadow-men, I belong there.

  His powerful Whiptail pawed the ground and pulled at the reins, it could smell the danger laying ahead, it was eager to turn around and head back the way they came. It made loud grunting sounds and whipped its horned head to one side. Arn pulled hard at the sharp bit in the creature’s mouth, quickly stopping its movements. It gave out a loud roar, then reluctantly settled down.

  The King reached out and patted his mount's scaly head, “I know how you feel,” he said under his breath. He turned to look back over his shoulder at the warriors who followed him. They are brave and worthy to be called warriors; he said to himself; but I cannot ask them to follow me into the Poison Lands, I must go alone.

  He spoke in a loud clear voice, “You have come this far with me and no one could ask for more, I am no longer the King and your oath, no longer has meaning.” He looked at the faces of men and women around him, “I am going on, those of you who wish to go back may do so and those of you who follow me, will be remembered by the Gods.”

  He turned and dug his spurs into his mount, the creature let out a roar and raced into the barren land ahead. After a brief moment, the Outcast Almadra warriors followed Arn into the Poison Lands and certain death!

  Andra and Osh were hopelessly lost, they tried to go North but soon found the terrain impassible. Huge cracks in the ground and steep cliffs, made it impossible to go on, so they turned in another direction, hoping it might be easier. Now, they thought they were going East but they could not be sure, which way they were heading. Andra tried to make a crude compass out of some pieces of metal and a shallow basin of water but it proved useless. Osh had warned her that any type of directional device, would not work because of the Electro-Magnetic waves but she had to see for herself. Now they just kept moving in the hope that whatever lay ahead, would be better than what they left behind.

  Andra felt like she was going to melt, with every hour the heat became more unbearable. Her armor was like an Iron-worker’s anvil, it burned her fingertips if she touched it. She considered taking it off but once again remembered the King’s words, instead she covered her back and shoulders with a robe. It stopped the rays from the twin suns from reaching her armor but it also held the heat in. Either way to prevent dehydration, she had to take frequent gulps of water from her canteen.

  Osh was not doing any better, he did not wear heavy armor but his old body was showing signs of stress. He used the wagon's covering to keep off the sun and he made a small umbrella to provide even more shade. Even out of the direct, burning sunlight he felt as if he was being baked alive. This is far worse than the time I spent on Relus; he reminisced; it was much hotter than this but at least we had ice suits to keep us alive. He noticed some small shelled, turtle like creatures, trying to burrow into the hard ground. They are trying to get out of the heat, they know the Burning Time is coming and anything above ground will die.

  He looked out over the barren land and saw the broken machines and huge animal bones bleached a stark white. Those machines must have had, either a power supply of some kind, something unaffected by the Electro-magnetic waves, or they were here before the Electro-magnetic waves started to occur. He shook his head, that would make them older, than the planet itself, that was ridiculous and what about the bones?

  He tried to calculate the overall size of the living creature that the bones might have supported but the heat made even his disciplined mind, feel like a Rock-hopper on hot stones. After a short time he stopped thinking and dreamed of the frozen glaciers and ice covered seas on the far Off-World of Armende.

  Suddenly Andra’s Whiptail gave out a loud bellow and began to twist violently from side to side. The Callaxion watched as Andra held on to the saddle horn, she pulled back on the reins until the creature finally stopped its violent bucking.

  “Is something wrong?” he called out.

  Andra turned the beast so she could see the old man, “I don’t know, he suddenly started to fight me.” She looked around the barren landscape, “I don’t see anything, maybe he can smell something we can’t.”

  The old man sniffed the dry air, “I do not smell anything but the olfactory sensors of reptilian species, are many times more acute than those of a human. In fact I once had to calculate the potential of a Sillastine soldier and how far he could…”

  There was another roar from the Whiptail, Andra barely had time to look skywards before a sharp claw hit her on the side of the head, “Yaaaaaaaaaa!” she yelled out and then she was fighting for her life.

  A dozen or more flying creatures, fell out of the blinding sunlight, they were about a meter long and had thin parchment wings. Andra knew in that instant what had struck her, a Sun-dropper.

  They swooped on Andra and the Osh, ripping at them with sharp claws. They also attacked the Trofar, it screamed in panic, then raced off, pulling the wagon with it, all the while Osh tried to fend off the flying death.

  Andra held onto her reins with one hand and swung her ax with the other, cutting one of the bat-like creatures in two. She felt another strike to her back and twisted around in her saddle to strike another of the beasts. Her Whiptail joined in the fight, biting off one of the Sun-dropper’s heads, its headless body fluttered for a moment then went limp.

  Andra saw that her companion was moving away from her, she kicked hard at her mount's sides and raced after her companion, all the while flying beasts dived at her again and again. Her armor saved her life more than once and she killed two more of the creatures before they flew off to look for easier prey.

  Osh tried to control the wagon but the Trofar's strength was too great, so he let the beast have its head.
He watched the Sun-droppers circle overhead, then begin their dive towards him. He knew it would be useless to fight them, so he abandoned his seat and moved quickly into the back of the vehicle and hoped he was safe!

  It was some time before Andra caught up with the wagon, it almost crashed into the large leg bone of some fantastic creature. Then the Trofar slowed down enough, for Andra to run ahead and block its path. A roar from her Whiptail, made the dim witted beast stop in its tracks and everything came to an abrupt halt.

  Andra waited for the dust to settle and for her mount to settle down. She dismounted and went to the wagon, she could not see Osh and for a moment, so she thought the worst. They've got him, I really am alone now; then she heard a soft moan. She climbed up into the driver's seat and looked into the back, She saw her companion's wrinkled face slowly emerged from under an overturned basket of Kasha bread.

  Osh looked around fearfully, “Are they gone?”

  Andra nodded, “Yes, they’re gone, are you alright?”

  Osh pulled himself up and began putting the loaves of brown bread, back into their basket, “Yes I am fine, I guess we were lucky.”

  Andra gave him a look, “I thought I heard you say that you didn’t believe in luck?”

  Osh looked embarrassed, “Ahhh well I do not,” he grumbled, “I think being around you, has contaminated my reasoning.”

  Andra did not say anything but she couldn’t hide a small smile, “I’m very sorry about that. Let's make camp here for the night and you can tell luck isn't real, just a random conjuration of events that sometimes converge, to give a person a favorable advantage.”

  Osh smiled at her, “You have a good memory.”

  “I guess being around you, has contaminated my reasoning,” she replied.

  It was Sun-fall, when Arn first saw signs that the Poison Lands were called the Death Grounds for good reason. He stopped his Whiptail on a small rise in the barren ground and saw a faint wisp of dust on the horizon. There was no wind so he knew the cloud came from something large, moving over the parched land. Outlanders would not venture this far into the Forbidden Lands, it could only be one thing. Shadow-men!

  They could run but that was not their way, any Nomad who ran from an enemy, would not find a table waiting for them in The Great Hall of Isarie. A coward would spend all eternity in the Pit of Marloon, never to see the face of the Goddess, to a Nomad running away was unthinkable.

  As the King watched the dust cloud coming towards him, he lowered his head. I have forsaken my mate; he thought; I have lost my mother and my sister, I have led my warriors into the Forbidden Lands, I am not a King. He looked at the dust cloud, fast moving dark figures could be seen; if I am to die, then let it be with my tooth in my hand. He turned to his warriors, “We have come a long way and traveled many roads. You have stood by me and I am grateful, now only one more thing needs to be done, will you follow me into the Golden Halls of Isarie?”

  There was silence for a moment, then Arn raised his battle-ax and shouted loud enough for the Gods to hear, “Will you stand with me?”

  The warriors held up their weapons and cried out as one, “We stand with our King!”

  Arn swung his heavy ax over his head, “Fire, earth, air, death!”

  Again the warriors spoke as one, “Fire, earth, air, death!”

  “Death! Death! Death!” the King screamed.

  He turned his Whiptail and raced to meet death, like a lover seeking his love.

  Slaughter fell upon the Poison Lands, the Nomads were like wild beasts as they met their foe. They crashed into the dark men like a wave on the rock of the Western Sea, they gave no quarter and asked for none. They hacked and slashed with blows that would kill a Rimar. They screamed Isarie's name as they died.

  The Shadow-men wore no armor to speak of and their weapons were made from pieces of metal and bone. They had crude bows and arrows, which made them a strong foe. The Nomads considered the bow, a weapon for the weak, they preferred to meet their enemy face to face, then let the Gods decide who lived or died.

  Arn fought side by side with his warriors, he wielded his battle-ax with deadly accuracy, cutting down a Shadow-man with each swing of the heavy blade. He was soon covered in blood and sweat, several arrows were stuck in his armor, luckily none penetrated the hard metal. Even if they had, it would take some time before the poison overcame the Nomad's strong immune systems. He smiled as he felt the warm life of his body run down his powerful limbs. He cried out to his warriors, to kill and kill again, they obeyed. The fighting madness was upon them, it did not matter who stood before them now, they would kill anything in their path.

  The Shadow-men rode on their dark armored Spike-backs, creatures unlike those that carried the Almadra cannons, these were misshapen monsters their thick skin was covered with sores and rotting flesh. The Shadow-men shot poison tipped arrows at the Whiptails but they fought back, using their massive jaws to tear chunks of flesh, from Spike-back and Shadow-man alike.

  It was now clear to see how Whiptails got their name. Their dagger filled jaws and the huge ripping claw on their smaller front limbs were ferocious but the creature's horned tail was their main weapon. They swung it in wide sweeps, the sharp horns did the rest. Its power was tremendous, when a Spikeback received a direct hit, it would be lifted high off the ground, to land bleeding and roaring in pain with broken bones or shattered skulls.

  The Nomads were no more than twenty, the Shadow-men a hundred or more, soon their sheer numbers started to take its toil. One by one, the warriors went down, their bodies riddled with arrows and cuts, blood ran from them in crimson streams. Some died with their teeth sunk deep into the neck of an enemy, while some fought on with a missing arm or leg. The sandy ground was soon colored dark red from the blood and gore, eventually there were only three warriors who remained standing.

  The Shadow-men pulled back to take stock and to gather their forces for a final assault on the Outlanders.

  On Arn's left stood a tall female warrior and on his right, a shorter massively built Nomad, they standing shoulder to shoulder they faced a ring of dark robed enemies. The King looked left, he recognized the face, even though it was covered in blood from a cut above her right eye. Ardendra was a great warrior, she once killed a Sager Cat with only a dragon’s tooth, now she wore the striped skin over one armored shoulder. Arn smiled at her, “You will have a place of honor in the Halls of Isarie,” he said between gasps.

  She smiled at him, “I do not think there are any Sager Cats in the Great Hall but I am sure there will be something to pass the time.”

  Then the King turned to his right, he recognized Brawl-Lacar, known to all the Almadra as a lover of food, fighting, and women. He saw a large cut across his right cheek exposing broken teeth and there were three arrows sticking out of his chest but still he managed to smile.

  His words were slurred but still understandable, “I hope they have good food in the Afterlife.”

  Arn nodded, “Yes, I hear they serve fat Rimar dipped in fish sauce, in the Great Hall every night and the women are always eager to please.”

  Brawl grunted his approval and with blood caked hands held up his ax.

  The King watched the circle of Shadow-men slowly tighten around them. Arn always thought, his last memories would be of his family and his people but as he stood waiting for death to take him, his mind was filled with Andra's face. He saw her eyes and her soft smiling lips, he did not know if they would meet in The Great Hall of Isarie. He would still think of her, even if he had to spend eternity in the Pit of Marloon.

  Andra; her name echoed in his mind. He heard the screams of the Shadow-men and all became madness and death.

  By Sun-fall, Andra was starting to think there was no such thing as luck. They had wandered through the rusty machines and bleached bones of the Poisoned Lands and found nothing. Whenever they stumbled upon a water hole, it was filled with a red moss that smelled like ten-day-old Rimar meat. They saw Sun-droppers circling high above t
hem, waiting like death angels. Large spiders the size of eating bowls, built webs among the fallen pieces of metal and skeletons.

  They sat around a small Washa fire and nibbled on dried Kasha bread, washed down with a cup of warm Po. They also swallowed small Grana crystal, it made them feel much better, luckily Osh had traded for a good amount of the precious mineral before they left the Almadra. It took all, of his accumulated wealth but what good were riches if you were dead?

  The Whiptail was pawing at the ground, he had not had meat in some time, making him even more dangerous, twice, he almost bit off Andra's leg. There was not very much Rimar meat left and Andra was saving it for themselves rather than give it to the hungry beast, it would prove to be a fatal mistake.

  Andra and Osh sat near to the wagon, they tried to enjoy their meal, “Tell me again how you mind say?” she asked.

  Osh looked at Andra and took a sip of his Po before speaking, “Well it really is rather simple, first you connect with an import line here.” He pulled back his stringy hair to show the small metal fitting on the side of his head, “Then you transfer your mind's data into the data-comp and start Interworking.”

  Andra chewed a bit of dried bread as she spoke, “You mean your thoughts go into the computer?”

  “Oh it's a lot more than that, when a Callaxion Interworks, we become the computer,” he said proudly, “To us it's like another body.”

  “I admit it, I don’t have a lot of experience with data-comps,” she replied, “But you can’t just leave your body and go into a metal box filled with wires and flashing lights, then come out again.”

  Metal box and flashing lights? She really does not know about Data-coms; he thought.

  Osh was about to give her a long speech, on the transmutation of brain waves into directional data fragments that can be intermixed with bio-mechanical data storage and Callaxion genetic engineering. However, he knew Andra would find it very boring, “Well perhaps you're right and I am just a silly old man who does not know anything,” he took another sip of his drink.

  Andra swallowed the piece of bread in her mouth, then washed it down with the sour wine, “You’re not at all that silly, in fact I think your parents raised a very fine man.”

  Osh gave a little chuckle, “Oh, I do not have any parents that would be very silly.”

  Andra gave him a strange look, “You don’t have parents, then who raised you, who took care of you?”

  Osh scratched his neck and shrugged his thin shoulder, “Why the mother of course.”

  “Mother, you said you didn’t have a mother?”

  “Oh I was referring to the interactive bio-mechanical nurturing unit. It provides nourishment and transmits appropriate data and learning techniques to selected infants, until they are complete and ready to start connection functions.” He took another small drink, “I know it's a very long explanation, that's why I call it mother, I can change the name if you like?”

  Andra shook her head, “You can’t just change a name and expect it to mean something.” He is very clever but I don’t think he knows a lot about how things work.

  Osh looked across the fire at his companion and smiled, “Take yourself, first of all you were called, little girl, then young lady, then lieutenant, then prisoner, then captive, then warrior and finally Moonbud, have you changed?” He watched Andra's face while she stared back at him. Andra is clever; he thought; but she has a lot to learn about the universe. Osh finished his bread and sat back against the wagon wheel that he had placed behind to his seat. “It's strange but after all this time, I do not know anything about where you came from, or who nurtured you.”

  Andra pretended not to hear.

  “If you prefer not to talk about it, then I will not ask any more questions.” Osh said.

  Andra waited for a few moments, then looked up at the stars, “You can't see my star system from here but it’s near the Praxus Nebula and has several planets. My world, Selcarie, is the fourth planet from our sun, it was a wonderful place, so green and the sky was so clear, you could see forever, it’s all gone now.”

  Osh saw the sad look on Andra's face, “ I am sorry,” he said quietly.

  Andra looked at him with a half-smile, “Don’t be, things come and go, it was, our time that’s all,” It was my fault, I should have fought harder, now it’s gone, all gone.

  Osh was about to start a lecture on the precise meaning of time and space and how they do not apply to certain segments of the universe and that time is not a constant. He let it pass, “And what about your family, who were they?” he asked.

  Andra didn't want to answer but she decided, talking about them might ease her pain, “My mother was called Niana, she was not born on Selcarie but came from a planet called Nargoon. She was a strong woman and she had soft hands, in spite of all the work she had to do, to raise me and my brothers. Of all the things I can remember, her soft hands and how they held me, are the most memorable.”

  Osh let the words sink in for a time, then spoke, “What was your brother’s name and what was he like?”

  “His name was Simon, he used to tease me a lot but he was a good brother.” Andra looked off into the night sky, “He got beaten up once, by the school bully for coming to my rescue.”

  Again Osh waited for a moment before speaking, “What happened to him, was he captured in the war?”

  Andra shook her head, “No, my bother didn’t believe in war, he remained on Selcarie while I went off to fight and I don’t blame him for that, he was too kind.”

  She looked off into the surrounding darkness. He was my brother and I let him die, I failed him and my world. She looked back at Osh, “It’s all right, it’s all over and gone now, there is nothing anyone can do.”

  Osh paused before he spoke, when he did, his voice was low and filled with more emotion than he had ever known, “Your family sounds very nice, I would gladly trade the Datacoms for a pair of soft hands.”

  Andra smiled at his words, then looked up at the sky again. I’m sorry mother, I let you down; she thought; forgive me brother, I miss you.

  Osh could see that his companion was feeling very down, so he tried to change the subject. “Well I've been doing some rough calculations and I can say with some certainty that we have survived longer than any other Off-Worlder in this wasteland.”

  Just as Andra heard him, there was a roar from the Whiptail and it tore away from its mooring, it headed for the Trofar and it circled it. The Trofar made loud bellowing sounds and prepared to be attacked.

  “He's going to kill it!” Andra shouted, she grabbed her ax and set about rescuing the only thing that could pull the wagon.

  The Whiptail lowered its massive head, then opened its huge jaws, ready to rip and kill. It moved forward but before it could attack, Andra swung her weapon and struck the monster on the side of his head, cutting deep into the scaly skin.

  The beast let out a roar and turned to bite Andra but she ducked. Andra and Osh watched as it raced off into the night, disappearing behind the metal wreckage that could be seen silhouetted against the light from a rising moon.

  Andra turned to Osh, she spoke with laughter in her voice, “Well, it looks like I'll be riding with you.”

  Far to the North and beyond the Poison Lands, the Almadra made their camp, near a large stone they called the finger of Solus. It was a huge outcropping of solid stone that reached straight up to the night sky. The Nomads believed it was a part of the hand of a great God, pointing the way to the Golden Hall of Isarie. Solus had lost a hand, when he fought with Isarie, in the great battle of the Gods. She cut off his right hand and it fell to the earth so that all might know the power of the Goddess.

  They knew a route across the broken land that avoided the places were the Shadow-men lived. There were other ways to Koto-Car and the Grana miners but each of the Outlander tribes had their own traditional route. The Madrigal, traveled via the Great Stone and they were glad to see that their journey would soon be over.

  T
he Almadra did not put up their tents as usual, they would only be staying one night, moving on in the morning. They slept in their wagons or around the Washa fires, keeping a keen eye out for Shadow-men. Instead of singing cheerful songs or dancing under the night skies, they were sullen and their music was the music of despair.

  Their strong King was gone and with him their beloved Queen, many of the best warriors were also missing and there was little hope of seeing them again. The Elders painted their faces red and scolded the children if they laughed or sang. The warriors sat quietly around their fires and told stories of the bravery and strength of their missing comrades. They lifted tankards of Po to the night sky, then poured it on the ground as an offering to the Gods, to hasten their journey to the Golden Hall. Their belongings were burned, some cried when they saw the flames rise into the night air.

  There was no time to do more, at any other time, they would have stopped to perform all the rituals that the death of a King or Queen demanded. They would have sacrificed a dozen fat Trofar and spent many days and nights, singing songs and listening to the words of the High Priestess, as she read from the Holy Book of Isarie. There was no time to stop now, they would endanger themselves too much. They knew what had to be done and they did it, there would be a time for rituals later, for now they had to keep moving.

  One person did not care if no one ever sang or danced again. Anais sat sullenly in the High Priestess' small ornately decorated traveling tent. It was erected every night for the Holy Mother to sleep in and commune with the Gods, Now it housed, if only temporarily the young Prince. It made Anais feel safe, surrounded by the Thungodra, he knew nothing could harm him.

  He sat on a heavily embroidered chair, taking long drafts of Po to quench his thirst. It did no good and he was in an even fouler mood than usual. He looked at the old woman who lay back relaxing in her high backed chair.

  “You promised me I would be King!” His voice was angry and somewhat slurred from the sour drink.

  Obec sipped a cup of hot Deep-root tea, even though a warm wind blew from the North, the dark drink made her feel relaxed. It eased the distaste she had for dealing with the foolish young Prince.

  She managed a small smile and spoke in a calm voice, “And so you shall but the time is not right. The Gods have plans for you and they will know the time for a new King to rule the Almadra.” Such a dull minded fool, I have plans and you will follow them.

  Anais took a long gulp of his drink. I know this old woman, she thinks I am a fool, well let her think it, my time will come. He put down his cup and looked over at a small shrine, the Priestess kept in her chamber, “Tell me the truth, is there an Afterlife?”

  “For some yes,” Obec replied, “for others there is only the Pit of Marloon.” She took a small sip of her tea. A place is waiting there for you.

  The young Prince stretched his arms and yawned a little. He liked playing these little mind games, “Well I do not believe in any dark pit or golden hall, I would rather enjoy the things around us now, than play Chance-cards with the Gods.”

  The Prince's words made the hairs on the back of the old woman’s wrinkled neck stand up. Must I tolerate this piece of Trofar dung? He will know the power of the Goddess soon enough. She managed a little smile, “We will let Agart rule for now, he will take us to Koto-Car, after the Burning Time, the Gods will know who is the Almadra's rightful leader.”

  Anais nodded to the old woman; there are no Gods but I know who will be King. He got up and went to the small tent's entrance, he stopped and looked back on the old woman, “Good night Holy Mother, I have to practice being King with a Handmaiden of the Gods.” He gave a little chuckle and left.

  Obec sat motionless apart from sipping her tea, when it was empty she lay back on the soft chair. Foolish man, I would love to hear your screams from the Pit of Marloon but I will be sitting at the right hand of Isarie and listening to her praises. She closed her eyes and let the sound of the warm wind sing her to sleep.

  Agart was alone in his wagon, the guards posted outside were told that he was not to be disturbed, he laid on his sleeping mattress. He closed his tired eyes but sleep did not come to him. His mind was too full of thoughts to sleep.

  He saw his brother's face of over and over, he looked at his eyes and saw the look of betrayal in them. He heard his bother's words, asking him why? He had no answer. So after a time he got up and sat with his back propped up against a wooden box. He stared at a small statue of the Goddess. In the past, seeing this idol gave him peace and filled his mind with the power of The Chosen. He no longer felt that way, gazing at the image all he felt was emptiness. What have I done? He asked himself; how could I betray my own brother, my King, how could I leave my mother? As if to answer these questions a voice sounded in his head, the voice of the High Priestess.

  “Arn is not The Chosen of the Gods.”

  Agart turned his head away and closed his eyes; can the Goddess be wrong but if Isarie is not Isarie, then I cannot a prince because she could not choose, perhaps I'm not, maybe I'm nothing? He stopped thinking, opened his eyes and looked at the statue again. No, I can feel my mind and I can see through my eyes, they may not be the eyes of the Goddess but they still see. I must lead our people, I must show them the way, Isarie is Isarie and only through the will of the Goddess may we see her face.

  For all his words he did not feel any better, he felt small and afraid, like a small Burrow-baby in the jaws of a Whiptail.