Nomads of the Gods

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 42. The Twin Dragons

  You are my Chosen, you are my children.

  Those who do not know my book or follow its teachings.

  They are the outcasts of my love.

  They do not believe and will not see my face.

  From the Book of Isarie.

  Arn, Andra and Osh had left the underground cavern and were in the chamber of the dead. The dusty Nomads of the past lay, around them, outside were the new lands of Gorn. They'd survived the Burning Time and the embrace of the Crystal Spiders, now they would continue their journey into the light, first, there was something they needed to do.

  Their old lives were over, burned away by the fires, they would start a new life without a home or a people, or a God, they were Outcasts. They shed their old garments to put on new ones, Arn and Andra took some armor from the dead warriors. It was made of a dark metal of an uncertain origin, there were marks on it but no rust or aging.

  Osh thought it might be Itarian steel but he could not be certain without testing. Andra said, it was not unlike body armor she'd worn in battle, strong and flexible. In any case it was of a much better quality than their old armor and weighed less. They could see that Arn was eager to feel the metal skin encasing him.

  First they put on a small chain mail shirt, it was finely made and covered the chest, it showed no rust or any sign of age. It was made from something other than steel and was harder than the Outlands Iron-worker's best made mail. They put the mail over soft Rimar skin, preserved in iron chests set around the cave.

  Next came strong flexible leggings and heavy soled boots with long spurs, then thick breastplates with wide shoulder coverings attached. They added forearm sections then fitted their hands into spiked metal gloves, flexing their fingers to make sure they were supple. Finally, ornate helmets with long horns and a visor to cover their face and block out heat from the suns. The helmets bore a likeness to Sand Dragons and would strike fear into the heart of an enemy.

  They buckled foot long daggers around their waists, Dragons-teeth and they took the war-axes from the hands of the dead. It was sacrilege but with no Gods to answer to, Arn didn't feel it was defiling those who once held them. Andra still had the ax given to her when Arn was still King, its weight and feel suited her so she and saw no need to replace it.

  Osh was pleased to find a suitable robe, it was dirty but was well preserved in a sealed clay pot. Although too large for his small frame, he tied up the looser parts and made it into a passable fit. He found a harness and several small carry pouches, into which he placed a goodly amount of the Grana, found next to the dead warriors. They would need it in the days to come and now they had a good supply for their journey. He also found some silver water canteens and a short spear that he fashioned into a crude sunshade.

  So with all in readiness they emerged from the cave and into the light.

  Andra drew in a lung full of sweet air. It’s fresh and new; she thought; like me.

  Osh reveled in his new found strength, now he looked forward to the days ahead rather than dreading them. With his regained youth, he would meet his future with courage and wisdom. He moved the sunshade aside and looked up, the sky had never been so wonderful. Perhaps I was right after all? He thought; maybe the Gods do have a plan for me?

  Arn felt the soft sunshine on his face and looked out over a new landscape covered in sprouting vegetation, in the distance, he could see young grazing Rimar.

  I have no Gods, he told himself; I am free. He felt the ancient weapon in his hand, it seemed to come alive, calling him to battle and filling his body with courage; it has been a long time and the tooth needs to be fed.

  He turned to Andra, “I have no tribe and no Gods, you are all the world I have.”

  Andra watched him and said, “My world is gone too, my people destroyed but I am not alone.”

  The Nomad took her hand, “You are not alone.” He looked up at the bright expanse of sky above him, then spoke in a loud clear voice. “Hear me Isarie, hear me Gods of this world and the next. It is I, Arn, son of Karn and Egmar, King and Queen of the Almadra, brother to Agart, Anais and Seeda, beside me is Andra, feared by all as Moonbud, warrior and mate to me. From this time forward we are one, from this time forward we no longer believe in you. Send any demon against us, we will face it together, we are no longer Outcasts, we are no longer The Chosen of the Gods, we are Moric-Kan.”

  He gazeded into the eyes of his love once more. Andra looked back, then reached out with her heart, in that moment, she felt something different, it had not been there when they entered the Crystal Spider's cave. She didn't know what had changed but as she looked at his face she knew, she was as one with him. Not just in spirit but in soul; what has happened? She asked herself; what have we become? She did not know, or care, the answer would come later, for now they were together. Soon the land of Gorn, would know them as Moric-Kan, the twin dragons.

  Twelve levels above the stone city's power station and directly under the armory, Governor Darken and his Generals were looking over the Yangmar army, from a vantage point above the breeding pens. Darken, dressed in his finest battle armor looked over the vast open breeding pits and smiled to himself as visions of conquest filled his mind.

  Although far from being a Callaxion, he tried to calculate how many of the obedient creatures he had at his command. He counted how many pig like Yangmar inhabited one pen, then multiplying it by the thousands of pens he saw. He estimated his army at no less than two hundred thousand strong. When he added it to the standing army of the Hal-Jafar soldiers, he already had, the smile on his face broadened. There has never been such a force on this planet; he thought happily; there will be nothing to stop me now, I will rule.

  He turned to General Leeander who was standing next to General Yung. They were both pleased to see the smile on the Governor's face. “Have the Yangmar been conditioned sufficiently? I do not want them running at the first sign of danger.”

  Leeander held his head up proudly. “They have been put through extensive mind blocks and have undergone lengthy pain and reward stimuli, they will do as they are commanded.”

  “Very good,” Darken said, then he turned to Yung who seemed a bit on edge. “What of the weapons, will there be enough armor and chamber rifles for them?”

  Yung shifted his feet, “Yes, my lord, almost.”

  Darken looked hard at his General, there was no emotion in his eyes. “What do you mean almost?” the Governor asked.

  Yung cleared his throat, “Well, it's not a problem really, we just have to rework a few minor flaws in a number of rifles, I assure you, it will be done very soon.”

  The Governor stared at his commander, he motioned to one of the lower ranking officers standing behind the General. The man came forward and saluted Darken, by placing his fist over his heart. He was a tall Bolbec with an open face and a small scar over his left eye. “You are, First Officer Drancar, are you not?” Darken asked.

  Drancar snapped to attention and saluted again. “Yes your lordship.”

  “You are one of my best officers,” said Darken.

  Again the man placed his hand over his heart. “Your commands are obeyed, your lordship.”

  The Governor put his arm around the loyal soldier, then led him to the edge of the platform, he pointed to the pens below. “Those creatures, live and die at my command.” there was a pause while he looked at the Yangmar. He turned to the Bolbec officer, “And so do you,” he pushed the officer into the breeding pens and watched the now vicious Yangmar, tear him to pieces.

  The faces of the other officers could not hide their fear. The Governor turned to Yung once more, “He was a good soldier but anyone can be replaced, even a General.” Darken let his words sink in, “Make sure everything is ready, soon, we march.” He watched the hungry Yangmar eating the last of the Bolbec's remains.

  Outside the great pyramid the trader's stalls were open once more. Long days and nights spent inside the stone city made the Talsonar
eager to be outside. To walk under the night sky and listen to the merchant's cries, proclaiming they had the best goods in all the lands of Gorn.

  Robe sellers, potters, metal workers, wine traders, all had a place. People were offering what they had for what they wanted, shell necklaces, Robox roots, Rimar horns, Sagar teeth, everything of value to the Talsonar was available for trade. When the haggling was over and the bargains met, they smiled and told themselves, they had made the best trade. Possessions went from person to person, an endless wheel of commerce that had no real purpose other than momentary satisfaction.

  The people who had been expelled from the city to die in the flames of the Burning Time were long forgotten. Their ashes, outside the gates had been washed away by the torrential rains, any that remained were lifted into the air by the wind and scattered to the far reaches of the planet. There was nothing to mark their passing, those who survived the fires, did not concern themselves with thoughts of the past. Living for the day was hard enough, as for tomorrow, it was too far away to matter.

  As the moons slowly moved overhead, the alleyways of the traders were crowded with buyers and sellers, those who had no goods traded the only thing they had, themselves. Sin-Cravers walked through the mass of people calling out their skills and what could be bought for a few red crystals.

  There were always new faces walking the alleyways, looking for Ice. Those with any strength left in their worn bodies soon replaced those who died of their addiction. They were easy to find, they stood shivering in the dark corners of the alleyways, they would promise anything to those who passed by. They no longer cared who they touched or who touched them, all they wanted was a few red crystals to warm their cold bodies, to allow them to forget their desperate world.

  Into this world came a woman who was once a warrior of the Almadra. Seeda felt cold, a feeling she did not tolerate well. Nomads were people of the Sun, they rode in the bright light of day and reveled in the warmth on their faces. When the time of the Hagars came and ice and snow moved down from the Northern lands; they traveled South, following the light of the Lesser Sun until the cold returned to its home.

  Cold was now the only world the outcast Princess knew. The small underground chamber was no longer hers, now too weak to defend the miserable hovel, she abandoned it to a large Higotie. Now she had to sleep wherever she could, to acquire the Ice her body so desperately needed, she would walk the alleyways at night, trading herself to those who wanted her.

  If any of her tribe saw her now, they would not know her. Her once strong limbs were thin and marked with red sores, the result of not having enough Grana. The green salt took second place to her need for the red crystals and food was hardly worth thinking about. She wandered the back alleyways, no longer looking up at the night sky; she did not want to see the Moons and be reminded of the life she once had. The great woman warrior who once traveled all the places of the Outlands was now confined to a few wretched streets outside the Stone City.

  Seeda stood watching the people pass, she stood in her regular spot, a small opening between a robe seller and a man whose specialty was removing infected teeth. It was not much, a patch of earth that had become home to a fallen warrior. From her spot she watched passersby, quickly learning who might have Ice and who might be willing to part with a few crystals for an hour or so of pleasure in the darkness.

  She watched intensely as a tall Talsasion walked by. No, he is wearing a Hogart medallion, they have given up pleasure for their God. She saw a fat Eleion, No, they prefer small boys to women; then she spotted a well-dressed Vergory. Yes, a high breeder looking for entertainment.

  So she pulled her dirty hair back and approached the overlord. “Are you seeking a companion my lord?” she asked. She pulled her torn robe lower to expose one of her breasts, “only three crystals my lord.”

  The man pushed her aside. “Out of my way fallen creature,” he shouted and continued on his way.

  “Two crystals for a night of pleasure!” she called out after him but he vanished mingling into the crowd, Seeda went back into the shadows. She saw that another woman had taken her place, she was wearing a filthy rag of a garment and her face was covered with ghastly sores; Seeda still wanted her standing spot back.

  “What are you doing here?” she shouted. “This is my place!” The woman did not answer so she grabbed her thin arms violently and with a great effort flung her into the dirty street.

  “Go away,” she roared, “this place is mine!”

  As the drug-ravaged creature to crawled away, Seeda found some mercy in her cold heart. It was only a tiny spark but it was enough for her to help the pitiful woman back into the small opening. Out of the milling crowd, she looked at the intruder's face. “What is your name?” she asked her new companion.

  The woman only stared back with a vacant look in her tired eyes and shook her head. “My name?’” she asked. “My name?”

  “Yes,” Seeda asked again, “who are you?”

  Again the woman shook her dirty head. “My name?” she said again, trying to remember. Then a faint spark from her past moved back into her mind. “They used to call me Osenna.” She paused as if to remember something she had long forgotten. “I once laid beside a God.” she said with a small smile on her cracked lips.

  Seeda knew the woman did not know what she was saying. The woman's scarred face made her feel sympathetic, so she nodded and smiled, “ Yes, I was once a Princess of the Outlands.”

  She watched the mad woman closed her eyes, it was not sleep that took hold of her, it was the dark hand of death. The city dweller gave a small gasp and slowly slumped to the ground then she tumbled into the dirt of the alleyway.

  She lay there motionless as the people passed by, they did not stop to look and she lay there for some time. Seeda looked at her for a while, then she began to feel very cold and began looking for a trade of the Ice she so disparately needed.

  Osenna's body lay there like a trader's castoff, soon her body would be taken to food processing to be used to feed the city's hungry people.

  Seeda glanced at the lifeless female lying on the ground every so often but there was nothing she could do. She could not remember any prayers or Gods that would listen to her now. In time she forgot why the woman was lying there, she forgot her name and everything she said. Once more she began to look for a companion for the night and a small offering for her soul.

  Nomads believe there was only one place of torment, the burning Pit of Marloon. In that fiery domain deep underground the dammed were tortured for all eternity. Any Outlander looking into Seeda's eyes would have realized that the Hell in Pit of Marloon was not the only one.