Chapter 28. Awakenings
In dreams we walk on worlds without end.
In dreams all worries and cares will mend.
In dreams we fly on wings of gold.
In dreams we sleep in arms that hold.
In dreams the past becomes today.
In dreams green pastures our head will lay.
In dreams we see the things we miss.
In dreams we feel our mothers kiss.
Ancient Selcarie Lullaby.
Andra rode her Horca, swiftly over the rolling hills near her home, although she knew it was only a dream, the smell of fresh grass filled her head, and the wind blew softly in her hair. How long she had ridden the small pony, and why, the hands that held the reins were small and delicate, she did not know. All that mattered, was that Niana, would be waiting for her at the door of her home, and she would hug and kiss her, like all mothers do.
I can’t be late; she told herself; mother will be angry if I’m late; she dug her heels in and the four legged animal quickened its pace.
The young girl rode up a small rise, she looked down on the farm where she lived. She could see the thatched roof of her well-kept home, and the wooden barn, where she played with her brother so often. She could see white smoke, bellowing softly from the kitchen chimney, and she knew her mother was cooking Kurlock pie.
I must hurry or the pie will get cold; she thought, as she started down the hill, she saw the skies begin to blacken, and a clicking sound filled the air. I have heard that sound before; she thought. As she looked up, she saw a gigantic crystal spider, spinning a web across the sky. The web grew and grew, until all the land and beyond, was covered in gossamer strands. The Horca vanished from beneath her, and she found herself alone, engulfed in a prison of white. She began to scream, fighting the webbing,but it could not be broken. As she struggled, the landscaped turned from a webbed world into a vast cave, filled with a warm green glow. All about her were gigantic emerald crystals and the sound of clicking spiders.
“Let me go!” she shouted, “I don’t belong here!”
She could no longer struggle, the flimsy strands that once bound her, turned into iron bands as strong as Itarian steel. The more she fought, the more they tightened around her, she cried out again, “I don’t belong here!” The sound echoed into nothingness, then she saw a light glowing before her, and she was carried to it. As she grew nearer, she saw a beckoning glow, which turned into a small child, lying on a bed of green crystals. The infant was naked, with skin as white as northern snow, and eyes as blue as the oceans of her Home-world. As she came even closer, she could see Simon, her brother, standing near the strange child. He smiled at her and pointed to the infant.
“Remember”, he said softly.
The iron strands began to tighten more and more, squeezing the life from her body.
“What should I remember?” She called out, she was squeezed, even tighter, “WHAT SHOULD I REMEMBER?”
Andra opened her eyes.
For a moment, she did not know where she was. Then as her mind focused, she saw the face of the man she loved, in that moment, she forgot her dream.
He has stood by me; she told herself, she smiled to see him looking at he. Weakly she asked, “where have you been?”
Arn did not speak for a moment, he simply looked into her eyes; how can I tell her, where I have been, he thought, how can I tell her that I have betrayed our love? He reached out and touched her face, “the Angel of Death has passed you by, you will survive”. He rose to his feet, “I will send for food and drink, it has been many days and you will need to rebuild your strength”, saying nothing more, he left the tent.
Andra lay resting, something began to fill her mind. It was a vision, of green eyes and white flowers, the feel of soft lips on hers.
Where has he been? She thought; where has he been?
In the many days and nights, since Arn had returned, there had been unrest in the camp of the Madrigal. They knew about the Challenge to the King, and although he had survived the battle, they were very angry with the Norgonie, for putting their leader in danger. Now in the light of morning, the warriors grumbled that the forest people were not to be trusted, and they should sharpen their axes. In turn, the Norgonie were troubled that Ral did not defeat the Nomad, they believed that they were the stronger, and their God would stand by their warrior.
So for now, they stopped trading and did not eat from the same table. If any member of the tribes walked in the Fortress, they would go with a warrior by their side. Because of this, no one realized that the Calaxion and the young Sandjar, were missing from their tent.
Osh was being treated well, in spite of the fact that he could not leave the room, within which he had been placed. The room or cell, if you want to call it that, was well appointed with a woven rug covering the stone floor, and a soft bed to sleep on. There was a large table and chair and even a wash basin. The only outside light, came from a small window, high up on one wall, steel bars covered it. There were many torches and braziers, they gave a warm glow to the chamber, even though the room was large. It was filled with hundreds of scrolls and parchments, they lay in neat rows on wooden shelves. There were glass jars, filled with all manner of strange things. There were humanoid skeletons of great size, bits of machinery, ancient objects, slabs of rock with bizarre caving on them. Minerals, and plants, and vessels filled with unknown compounds. It was enough to keep the mind of an Outer Rim scholar busy for a lifetime. It was still a prison to the old man.
He knew that escape was impossible, outside his door, were two strong Norgonie warriors, beyond them waited many more. The last few days and nights, he had concentrated on what was before him, trusting in the Gods to see him through. He did wonder about his son, he knew that Endo, was a capable young Sandjar. If there was only one thing that could be said about the green scavengers, it was that they knew how to survive. For now, he focused his mind on solving the writings before him, it was not an easy task. As soon as he found a central factor to deciphering one scroll, he realized that it would not work on another. Eventually he discovered fragments of what the writings held. It shook his mind!
He put the ancient parchment down on the table and leaned back in his chair. He began to collate all the information that he had discovered, cross referencing it, with what he already knew. He removed false or misleading calculations, then distilled it down, to what he could say was fact. For any species other than a Callaxion, it would have taken a great deal of time. The old man still retained enough mind skill, to formulate clear and precise information. Then he realized why Vitranius wanted it.
There is great knowledge here; he thought; enough to rule this planet and many more. Osh rose from his seat and moved over to a large humanoid skeleton that was nearby. He looked into the face of the relic and spoke to it, as if, it could hear him. “You were once just a weapon, but now you are so much more”.
He heard a voice behind him. “They are still just weapons”.
The old man turned, to see Vitranius walking into the room. He was alone and dressed in a simple robe. He held a silver tray, with two large golden cups and a small golden bowl upon it. He set the tray on the table, next to Osh. Then he spoke. “You know that the Outlanders were created as weapons of war? Correct?”
Osh moved next to the Holy Man, then sat in his chair, “yes, I know that” he said. “They have evolved far beyond what the Overlords intended”.
“Nonsense!” Vitranius said with a laugh, “they are still, just a primitive species, fit only to kill and destroy, you have seen that for yourself, have you not?”
The old man nodded his head, “yes I have seen their savagery, but I have also seen their love, and the Overlords are no longer here to command them”.
Vitranius did not speak but he continued to smile, it was then that Osh realized the truth. “You want to become their master, don’t you? You think that with them as your army, and the knowledge hidden on this world, you would be able to
conquer all, of the Outer Rim!”
Again the High priest laughed, “of course, there are no better soldiers then the Nomads. They are stronger, faster, and able to withstand more punishment. They follow their leaders without question”.
“You are not their leader”, Osh replied.
“No, not yet”, Vitranius said, “but I know why”. He picked up one of the gold cups and took a sip of the Po that it contained. After quenching his thirst, he spoke once more, “The Nomads and the Norgonie, possess a certain amount of telepathy, I am sure you have noticed this?”
“I have.”
“This power is most predominant in their leaders, the Kings and Queens are chosen for their mind power, as much as fighting skills. This is how command of a tribe is passed down”.
“I understand,” said the old man; power is handed down from father to son, from mother to daughter.
The Holy Man took another sip of his wine, “the Overlords also manufactured other species that were created to fulfill certain tasks. Take for example the Ergan-Mar, you know of them?”
“Yes” Osh said, “they are the miners, who live in the Hollow Hills and dig the Grana that all creatures on Gorn need”.
“That is true”, Vitranius replied, then he reached into the gold bowl on the tray. He withdrew a bit of green crystal and put it into his mouth. “They started out as workers, used to carve out the underground living quarters for their masters. Despite of their vast knowledge, the Overlords were weak of body, and could not withstand changes in their environment. So they built huge underground complexes and where they continued their work”.
Osh picked up a parchment near to him. “Yes, so I have learned from these writings, I also know that they chose this planet to colonize, because of its harsh climate”.
“Exactly, they needed a place to train their army, and this world contains all the extremes of nature. They came here and began their plan of conquest, but something went wrong”.
“The Guardian.” Osh spoke before he could stop himself.
Vitranius handed the other golden cup to the old man. “Yes, somehow, the creature was able to spread a plague over the entire planet, killing all the Overlords, and most of the creatures they were hoping to use in their battle plans. You can see their remains, scattered over most of the Outlands”.
Osh took the cup from the High Priest, “yes, along with great war machines”, Osh said. “I have also learned that the Overlords created many more species to do their bidding”.
Vitranius rose from his seat and moved to a large glass case, which held the skulls, of many, different humanoids. “Again you are correct, the Galu of the Southern Jungles, the Sky Riders, the Hagars of the North, even the Sandjar, all of them molded by the hands of the Overlords”.
When the ancient Callaxion mentioned the word “Sandjar”, the old man put down his cup, “what do you know of the Scavengers?”
Vitranius opened the glass case, and removed a skull. It was easy to see that it was the head of a Sandjar. “They were once the most populous of the creatures on Gorn, it was they who built the pyramid cities”.
Hearing that his son, was a descendent of such a skilled people, made the old man’s mind jump; my son is not a savage; he thought; his people were once great!
At that moment, Endo was not thinking of the past, his mind was fixed on the future, and how he would free his brethren. He watched the Eul dust rise, as his pick dug deeply into the earth, with each strike of his digging tool, he wished it was burying in the heart of a Norgonie.
I must free my people; he thought, with each swing of his pick he realized just how difficult that would be.
He worked on the lower level of the Eul mine, above and around him, were hundreds of other Sandjar, Each one, forced to work, by the many guards that kept constant watch over them. If any slave slowed in their work, they would strike them on the back with their whips. None dared fight back, for it would mean a horrible death, in the jaws of the barking Drogs. The slaves were the sons and daughters of other slaves. Brought here many cycles ago, to work in the darkness and mine the burning rock that the forest people needed so badly. Although they were not the Scavengers of the Outlands, they still possessed the same Sandjar instinct for survival. Perhaps someday, they would use that instinct, to be free.
Endo looked to his left, and saw Rawna filling a basket with Eul. She dug with her hands and a small iron spade, she was covered in dust and grime. To the young Scavenger, she looked beautiful! When her basket was full, she stood up and looked at the young man, tp whom she had given herself. Although she had not smiled in a very long time, her thin lips pulled at the corners of her mouth. Endo stopped his digging and smiled back at her. Then he felt the whip across his back, he let out a cry, and turned to see who had struck him. It took all his will, to keep his anger at bay.
“Get to work!” shouted the guard, to add weight to his words, he struck the slave again. “Get to work, you vermin!”
Endo, began to dig slowly, as he watched the young female, carry her basket to a rock wagon and empty it. When she had finished, she returned to where he was, and began to work once more. How many times has she done this? Endo thought; how many cycles has she lived in the darkness? He looked around the huge cavern once more; this must end, I will find a way. For now, he knew that he must dig, all the while, using his mind to think of a way to overcome the strength of the Norgonie. He would at least, have the comfort of looking into his mate's face.
There was another who smiled to see a face, Egmar no longer bore the scars of the Shadowmen.
She sat before her reflecting plate, looking into the eyes that stared back at her, the cheeks were full and supple, they were no longer marred, with the rotting flesh of the poison lands. On her chin, she could see once more, the three stripes that marked her as a Queen of the Madrigal. Her hair once more, had the dark color of her kin. She raised her hands to her face, they were not the ghastly clawed fingers of the walking dead, they were soft and smooth and would be welcomed on the flesh.
She wore a thin robe of finely woven cloth, she pulled back the covering, her breasts were firm and strong once again. It was not the body of her youth, to be sure, but it was no longer the aged form that her many cycles would have given her.
She slowly rose, and began to walk about her chamber. There was no music, but that did not stop her from lifting her arms, and dancing to the song in her head.
Summer moons, so bright overheard.
Summer nights, in my lover’s soft bed.
Dancing stars that sing of delights.
Mating drums beat, on hot summer nights.
It was an old song, one that the Holy Mother liked very much. She continued to dance for a time then she sat down in a chai. Before her on a carved stand was the Book of Isarie. In the light that streamed in from a open flap in the tent's ceiling, she could see the gold and silver fittings that held the Holy Book together. She could see the symbol of the Goddess on the front cover and the finely worked bindings.
The book; she thought; the writings that speak for the Goddess; then she smiled; it is a silly book a book of lies.
Sitting on a table next to the book, was a small silver bowl filled with Tran. Egmar looked at the book for a moment then at the silver bowl.
I have received more from the crystals, than I have from the holy book. She laughed. “There is no Goddess, there is no Afterlife, all that I need, is before me!” Saying this, she moved to the silver bowl and took one of the tiny glowing crystals in her fingers. “What a fool I was, to believe in the three questions.” In her mind, she repeated the inscription that all Nomads must answer on the day of their judgment.
Do you know my book.
Do you follow its teachings.
Do you believe.
“I was a fool to believe in such nonsense.” She lifted the crystal up to the morning light. “This is my God, all truth is here and now, my past life was just a dream and now I awake!” She laughed again, as she put
the crystals into her mouth. Then her feet moved her about the chamber, and her head filled with song.
The crystal truth that heals all woe.
The crystal life that all should know.
Come eat your fill and evade the light.
Forget all needs and embrace the night.
Arn walked through the camp, the Touchtenders who had cared for him, had given him a cup of strong Po mixed with Grana to aid in his healing. Now there was only a small scar, to mark the place where Ishea’s spear had struck him. Although the wounds to his body had been healed, the pain in his heart had not lessened.
How could I have been such a fool? He thought as he moved passed the Ironworkers; I acted like a second cycle fledgling! Suddenly the helmet on his head felt very heavy and the armor covering his great chest became very warm. He wanted, to tear off his steel covering, and fling his helmet onto the ground, then he could walk freely, with only his ax in his hand, not, to be weighted down, by the burden of Kingship. To be free to live his life, as he wanted that would be paradise.
He shook his head, and remembered back to the time he gave up his crown, rather than fight his brother; no, you ran from your responsibilities once, you cannot do that again.
He continued to walk until he came to the Great Wagon of the Holy Mother. It was surrounded by the loyal Thungodra, and as he grew near, they raised their weapons, watching him carefully. The King knew that he would not be allowed into the great tent of their mistress, without her permission, so he continued to walk, all the while speaking to his mind.
I have killed a hundred and more warriors in battle, but I could not defeat the callings of my lust; he looked up at the sky and saw the day moons beginning their journey across the heavens. He could not see the small blue moon that the Norgonie called Amura and the Outlanders named Andra. He knew that soon it would join its brothers and sisters, to look down upon him and his world. There are no secrets from the stars, I must go back and tell her what I have done; so he turned and began the long walk back to their tent, and the woman that he called his mate.
High in her stronghold tower, Ishea stared out the window, down on the camp of the Outlanders. From her vantage point, she could see the King's tent, she saw him leaving his mate. She wore a simple dress of Rimar hide, her braided hair hung over her strong shoulders. There were, some small red marks on her bronzed skin, the remains of the battle, she had with her former mate. The Norgonie, also possessed the power to heal quickly, in a few more days, there would be nothing to show she had ever fought at all.
She took a small sip of aged Po from a silver cup, then she turned to look at her son. He was sitting uneasily in a chair, staring at the many severed heads that his mother had taken in combat. He also bore healing wounds, those he had received from the Nomad King. She knew, his heart would never recover from his defeat.
Ral continued to stare at the grisly trophies. Although he knew that they were long dead, and their souls wandered in the Afterlife. Their vacant eyes, seemed to mock him, and in his ears, he could hear laughter. He wore his armor, and still had his Kagar in his hand, as he continued to stare at the rotten skulls, he gripped his weapon tightly. He sat like a Sagar cat about to strike, grinding his teeth together in a silent rage.
He spoke at last. “Why did you stop me, from killing him?” He asked coldly.
The Queen walked slowly to her bed, “the challenge was done, there was no need for further bloodshed”.
Ral sprang to his feet, he shouted “he was still alive, the challenge was not finished!”
Ishea put her cup on a small wooden table, “you had lost, the battle was over”.
“The battle was NOT over!” The young warrior shouted. “I swore that I would kill him and you kept me from fulfilling that oath. Why?”
His mother did not speak, as Ral looked into her eyes, he saw the answer to his question; my mother has forgiven him. As he looked further into those two glowing pools of green, he understood why she no longer bore hatred in her heart; she has lain with him, she held him in her arms!
His world began to crash in around him, all that he understood as truth became a lie. All that he worshiped became false, all his dreams of glory now turned into a nightmare of deception. My mother has betrayed me, she is now my enemy! He turned from her and without another word, left his mother's side, and her love.
Ishea watched him go, she wanted to call out to him, to tell him that he was still her son, but she could not. So she stood there for a moment more, then went to her bed and laid upon it. She reached under the soft Hagar skin, feeling for the shell that Arn had given her, so long ago. She remembered that it now lay in the clear waters, near the flowers of death. Then she began to cry, she knew that she would never travel to the Western Sea, she would never hunt leviathans, with Arn at her side, and she would never know love again.
Andra had driven out the Touchtenders, she began to dress herself in armor once again, although she was weak, she did not want to spend another minute, being waited on hand and foot. It was not easy ridding herself of the dedicated healers. After trying politeness, she resorted to her commanding voice, it had scared, many new recruits, when she was a soldier of the Selcarie. Using that, and throwing, a half-empty bowl of Hagar soup at them, they quickly ran from the tent.
She drew on her woven undergarments and Rimar hide walking boots. The boots had thick soles and an iron heel and toe, heavy straps kept them tight on her feet. She did not attach her long spurs, she knew, she would not be riding today. Next, she covered herself, with finely wrought, chain mail that fitted her like a metal glove. Over this, she pulled her leg protectors and chest plate, then her spiked arm coverings and lastly her helmet. She began searching about, for her daggers and her ax, they were nowhere, to be found. She looked everywhere, finally she gave up and walked to the tent entrance.
A she was about to lift the flap, she heard a scuffling sound that grew into shouts of pain, mixed with steel on steel. Before she could react, there was a flash of sunlight and a face staring into hers. She caught only a glimpse, before something was pulled over her head, strong hands seized her, she struggled for a moment, then everything became black.
Ral carried Andra from her tent, with one strong arm holding her over his shoulder, the other striking out left and right with his spear. He had already killed three warriors of the Madrigal, and he would kill many more, as he made his escape. Strong as he was, he would have been stopped, if not for the twenty Norgonie, standing beside him, helping him, to take the mate of the Nomad King. The air filled with the screams of the dying, and the din of battle, as the Forest-dwellers cut their way through the Outlander's camp.
The Nomads had not been expecting such an attack. Most of their warriors, were placed around the tents of the Elders and the Grana wagons. The rest spread out, to keep watch over the Fortress walls and buildings. This had been a mistake, the small force of Norgonie, struck swiftly and before the signal horns could blow, they took the Off-World woman. Now they made their way quickly to the main gate.
Arn was halfway to his tent, when he heard the sound of horns, without asking why, he suddenly knew that the life of his mate was in danger.
They have taken her; he thought, then he ran as fast as he could.
The Fortress was in chaos, all around came the screams of Elders, and the crying of the young. There were shouts from both sides, to kill the other side, and warriors picked up their weapons, to join ranks and face their enemy. On top of the Holy Shrine, the great gong sounded, calling the Norgonie to battle.
When the King returned to his tent, he found it surrounded by dead warriors, and Nomads eager to fight, at the head of those brave men and woman, stood Kuno.
“Where have they taken her?” The King shouted above the noise.
The big Captain pointed to his left, “towards the main gate”.
“Gather twenty of our best men and follow me.” Arn ran where the Nomad had pointed, with several angry warriors at his side.
“Ral has taken the Kings mate,” he said, breathing hard.
For a moment, Ishea said nothing, then she turned to the messenger, “gather our forces, but do not attack”.
The warrior nodded his head in understanding, then ran off, to carry out his Queens command. With several strong men at her side, Ishea headed for the Outlander's camp.
Ral and his men, had planned their escape well. They had Rowgors waiting, heavily weighted down with supplies and weapons. Being the Queen's son, the guards did not question him, when he ordered them to open the gates. With his prize bound and gagged, behind his saddle, he shouted to his trusted warriors, to follow him through the portal, into the dense forest beyond.
A short time later, Arn and Ishea met. For a moment, the two forces faced each other with weapons held high. One misstep from either of them, and the Fortress would be bathed in blood.
It was the King who spoke first, “out of my way Norgonie, or I will cut you down!”
The Queen was quick to respond, “if you do, your people will never leave here, alive”.
The tension raised as the two forces gripped weapons, growling under their breath. Kuno spoke next, “if you want war, then we are here!”
It was easy to see that in a moment or two, more the destruction would begin.
Then a calming voice was heard. “War is not the answer to this.”
Arn turned to see his brother Anais, standing near him, with Kela at his side. He wore a simple green robe and his demeanor was calm. Seeing the man was without weapons, standing with a Handmaiden, the killing fever in the warrior’s hearts cooled. “Moonbud was taken by Ral, it was his doing and not the will of the Queen.” He turned his blind eyes to face Ishea, “it was your warrior who took the woman, he is your responsibility”.
Anais had heard the signal horns and the shouts of battle, for a reason he did not understand, he came out of his tent and made his way to where he now stood. Kela called to him, to return to the safety of their quarters, when he did not, she followed him, all the while praying to Isarie that they would both live through the day. Now they stood together, waiting for the two leaders to speak.
It was the King who spoke first. “My brother speaks the truth,” he said, lowering his ax, “war is not the answer, we will all die and Ral will go free”.
Hearing his words, the Norgonie Queen put down her Kagar, “then what is the answer?”
The blind man took a few steps forward, and stood between the two factions. To the Queen he said “take twenty of your best warriors.” Turning to his brother, he said, “and you do the same, bring the woman back to her people. Ral is not to be harmed.”
There was a short pause as the two sides mulled over his words.
“The Madrigal agree”, the King said. He turned to the anguished warriors around him, “put down your weapons”. Some of them did not, and to those he turned his angry gaze, “it is your King who commands this!” Hearing his words and the look in his eyes, they did as they were told.
Ishea could hear her warriors whispering that now was the time to strike, she turned and called out in a voice that all could hear. “We will not fight!” Looking back at Anais, she shouted, “we will do as you ask, twenty from each side will go, but be warned, if my son dies or I do not return with your King, you will die!”
The blind man said nothing, he nodded his head. Seeing that his brother was risking his life for his mate, the King came to him and spoke in a soft voice, “I will return”, he said, then he left quickly, to find the woman he loved.
Anais listened as his brother left, then he remembered what the King had said to him, they were the first words his brother had spoken to him, in a very long time.
He hoped they would not be his last.
Nomads The Fallen God Page 29
