Nomads The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 33. The God Machine

  If a person does wrong, he or she, shall pay a price, if they kill an innocent, they shall in turn give up their life, if they steal, they shall pay back that which was stolen, and if they speak untruth, they shall in turn be lied to.

  From the Books of the Chosen.

  When the Queen rode off into the forest with the Outlanders, the Norgonie took Anais to the tower dungeon, holding to their oath, the Nomads did not interfere. As the suns fell beyond the mountains, the blind Prince, sat alone on a filthy bed in the darkened chamber. He thought over his life, and the things that had brought him to where he was now.

  He remembered growing up, and being overshadowed by his elder brothers, wishing that his father had favored him more. He could see his scarred face, and hear his voice, as he used to call out to him. Telling him that he was not worthy to be King, and that he would never be a strong warrior. He remembered how he would sit alone, crying and wishing that he was as well loved as his brothers and sister. All the times he had prayed to Isarie for strength, he did not receive her blessing. Then he grew older, his tears turned to anger, and he no longer prayed to a Goddess, who did not see him. More cycles passed, and his heart turned to stone, he became a man without hope, all thoughts turned to revenge. He remembered how he made a pact with Obec, the vengeful Holy Mother, how he gave his heart to Soffca, the Handmaiden, and how he was betrayed by both of them. He remembered how his plans and schemes turned to dust, and he was left alone in the darkness. In that darkness, he found new light, he made a vow, to be remembered and someday sit in the Golden Hall.

  I have been used by the Gods; he told himself; I am a Kagar that has risen to the sky, only to fall to the ground. Thinking this he smiled a little, he had never thought of himself as a Sun-Gazer, those wandering Holy Men of the Outlands. He had not taken away his sight, by staring at the twin suns. He had never read all thirty-nine books of The Chosen, or prayed before the great statue of Romac the God of wisdom.

  I am not a sin-eater; he told himself; I am just a man, who does not wish to spend eternity in the pit of Marloon. He realized that now he was a prisoner, he might never be free again, he smiled; well at least I am not burning in the eternal fires.

  He heard footsteps and he knew that Kela was approaching. There was a rattling of steel, then the door to his cell opened. The young Handmaiden walked into his cell, there was the sound of more footsteps. When all was quite, she softly asked, “Have you been mistreated?”

  “No”, he replied shaking his head, “the Norgonie obey their Queen”. He realized that the Handmaiden should not have been allowed to see him, “how did you convince the guards to let you in?” he asked.

  There was a moment or two of silence, then Kela answered, “Norgonie or Nomad, all warriors have a price”, she said softly. When she realized that her companion might get the wrong idea, thinking that she would trade her virginity, to seeing him, she spoke again. “The gold Sagar teeth necklace, was far too heavy, so I traded it for the right to come and go as I please”.

  Anais thought this over for a time, “you have been cheated,” he said with a smile. He was thinking something far different. She gave up something precious to her, for me; he knew then that she truly cared for him.

  Kela looked around at the small damp cell, then walked over to the dirty bed and sat down. She did not speak, she put her hands into her robe to take out a small bundle, she unwrapped it. “I did not know if they would feed you, so I brought something.”

  As soon as the wrappings were undone, Anais knew from the warm smell that she had baked him some fresh Meadow Cane biscuits and a small Safic Berry pie. She handed one of the warm cakes to the blind Prince, “eat them now, or they will get cold”, she said.

  Doing as she asked, he took the offering and bit off a portion, he chewed it slowly, savoring its sweet taste, when he had consumed part of it, he thanked her.

  “They say that food tastes the best, when it might be your last,” he said with a smile. “ I say it is the finest when shared.” He handed her, the half-eaten biscuit.

  She smiled and took it from him, she ate it slowly, when she had finished, she nodded her head, “you are right, it does seem to taste better”.

  They ate in silence for a time, when all the cakes and pie were gone, the Handmaiden spoke, “I am going to the Holy Mother, and I will ask her to use her power to set you free”; it is her son she will not refuse.

  Anais shook his head, “no, it was my choice, I will stand by what I said”.

  “What if the King does not return, are you going to give up your life?”

  The blind Prince rose to his feet, moving to a corner of his small cell, he answered, “I have said, what I have said, I cannot turn back now”.

  Kela rose and moved to his side, she put her hand on his shoulder. “I am a Handmaiden of Isarie, I have pledged my life to serve her, I will give up that life, if it saves yours”.

  Anais wished with all his heart that he could turn and take her in his arms, but he did not. Turning away from her, he spoke in a low voice, “go away”. Hearing his words, she called out to the guards, soon they came to open the cell door. Without another word, the young Handmaiden walked away, leaving the blind Prince alone.

  When the footsteps had fallen away and all was quiet once more, Anais moved to his bed and sat upon it. He did not speak, there was no one to hear him, as he stared into the darkness, his inner mind heard sounds. They came from all around him, screaming people, calling out in pain, the sound of stone falling on stone, more screams and above it all, metal grinding on metal. He saw flames and smoke, bodies, scattered like leaves in the winter.

  Is this the Pit of Marloon? He asked himself; am I to spend all eternity in fire?

  His inner-mind looked up at the sky, to see it fill with a dark shadow, his body became racked with pain. “NO, I will not end like this!” he called out. As he watched the shadow come for him, he saw Kela running towards him, and he reached out for her.

  His vision ended, and he was alone in the darkness once more, he sat there for some time without moving, then he bowed his head and began to weep, as if he were a child once again.

  Endo had waited and watched, trying to find a way to free himself, and his people. The more he thought about finding a way out, the more his heart sunk. He realized that over the many cycles that the Sandjar had been in captivity, the Norgonie had learned how to keep them, as slaves. Every avenue was guarded, every tunnel patrolled by warriors and Drogs, even if they could reach the surface, they would have to face thousands of Forest-dwellers, all well-armed and trained to kill. Still he did not give up hope, without that, he would be just another slave, so he continued to watch and learn. He sat beside Rawna, eating the meager food from his clawed hand.

  All around him in the holding cave, were his people, they sat alone or in small groups on the different levels, hoping that someone stronger would not take their ration, leaving them with nothing, to fill their bellies. Like the surface world, it was the strong who survived, while the weak perished.

  Endo was now called “Coraw”, leader, it was more than just a name. He knew that at any time, he could be challenged for the title. He had found a bit of broken metal, and a short length of wood, which he fashioned into a weapon. It was not a strong dagger, like the Nomads carried. He fitted the wood as a handle, then working for many hours, he sharpened the steel on a smooth rock. Now he had a knife of sorts. He kept it hidden, least the Norgonie found it, knowing he had it nearby, gave him comfort

  Endo looked down at the female by his side, and smiled, he had given his heart to Rawna, in return she had given him, hers.

  I cannot let her live out her life in the dark; he thought; I will find a way out! Taking the last of his food, he handed it to his mate, she took it from him and ate it quickly. Leaning against his leg, she made soft purring sounds, it was the way female Sandjar, showed affection. It did not go unnoticed by Endo; in spite of all that has been done
to her, she still can love.

  It gave him hope, and renewed strength, to find a way out. He looked up to see Mog, moving slowly towards him, seeing his rival approaching, he reached under his seat, to grip the handle of his primitive knife. He noticed that the big Sandjar kept his head down, and did not look him in the eye, knowing the ways of his people, he knew that he did not wish to fight. When Mog was standing before him, he took his hand off his weapon. He made a soft grunting sound, as he nodded his head up and down, it was the traditional way of greeting, for his kind, Mog did the same, and sat down beside his leader. For a time the big Sandjar did not move, he just stared into space, then he slowly put his hand into the ragged garment he wore, to withdraw something. He reached out, slowly placing it on the ground, next to his Coraw, then he waited in silence.

  Endo looked down and was amazed at what he saw, a piece of stale bread laid there, and a small portion of rotting meat. It was not much, and if he had been back at his wagon, he would have tossed it away, thinking that it was unfit for consumption. In this underground prison, it could mean the difference between life and death.

  Mog has given me something of great value; he thought. It was very unlike his people, they did not share, the weak prayed on the strong. Looking at the precious food, he knew that he had one devoted follower. Endo put his hand on the big Scavenger's shoulder, he spoke in a low voice, “thank you”. Hearing Norgonie words, coming from the mouth of his Coraw, made Mog tilt his big head in wonder. He watched, as Endo handed the bit of food to the female, this caused him to tilt his head to the other side, and grunt twice. He did not understand why a Coraw, would give up food to a worthless, body warmer.

  Endo watched, as Rawna ate the food, he smiled at her. Turning back to Mog, he said, “I promise that someday you will have your freedom”.

  Again the big Sandjar, did not understand what the words meant, but he was intelligent enough to repeat what he heard. Tilting his head again, he spoke in a low guttural voice, “freeeeedam?” he said.

  This made Endo smile, once more he placed his hand on Mog's shoulder. “Yes, freedom”, he knew that to the big Scavenger, it was a word without meaning, but it was a start.

  When Kela left the holding tower, she did not return to her tent, she went straight to the Holy Mother's quarters. The Thungodra did not bar her way, they knew she was a Handmaiden of the Goddess, it was not within their power to question her. When she was inside the great tent, she walked past the other servants of Isarie, and waited before Egmar's chamber. She stood there for a moment, collecting her thoughts, then spoke in a soft voice.

  “Holy Mother, it is I, Kela, may I enter?” After a long pause, Egmar called out. “Enter”.

  The young woman, pulled back the door veil, and walked into the chamber. Once inside, she stopped to stare in amazement, it had been some time, since she had stood before the Holy Mother.

  All about her, were treasures and finery, fit for a King, and far to ornate for a speaker of the Goddess. There was gold and silver, baskets of rare shells, Rimar horn, ivory statues and jeweled chests of all kinds. There were richly carved chairs, covered in thick Hagar skins, tables piled high with food and drink. It was the domain of a Sin-Craver, not that of a Holy Mother.

  She saw Egmar with her back turned to her, sitting in a well-stuffed chair, she walked a few steps towards, her then spoke. “Enor, it is Kela, your daughter”.

  For a moment, the Holy Mother did not move, then she turned to look at the young Handmaiden, “I have no daughter”, she said coldly. Kela breathed in with a gasp, she was expecting to see the scarred face that she had grown to love. Not the soft features and supple skin that now looked at her, with so much contempt. Egmar rose slowly from her chair, and walked to her servant. She wore a purple robe, trimmed with golden thread, on her head a headdress of gold and Doff-bird feathers. On her arms, were many bracelets, and around her neck, hung a heavy medallion made of ivory.

  She stopped a few inches away from Kela, and looked into her eyes, “why do you call me Enor? Do you not know that I am your mistress, I could have you whipped for addressing me so?”

  The young Handmaiden bowed her head, “forgive me Holy Mother,” she said softly. “I should not have spoken to you in that way.” Something has changed, something has taken her soul.

  Hearing the proper apologies, Egmar turned from her, and moved to a table, where she poured herself a large cup of well-aged Po. After taking a sip, she spoke, “why do you disturb me?”

  Keeping her head down, the young Handmaiden answered, “I’ am sure you know that Anais your son, is being held by the Norgonie, and if the King does not return, he is to be killed”.

  “Yes I know this”, Egmar replied, taking another sip of her wine.

  “Then I ask you to speak to the Holy Man, Vitranius, ask him, to set Anais free. Surely the power of Isarie and Arm-Ra together, can overcome the orders of a Queen”.

  Again the Holy Mother took a sip from her cup, “I have only one son, and he is far away. He is coming, and he brings a God that will destroy all those before him!”

  Hearing such sacrilege, being spoken by the Holy Mother, made the blood in Kela’s veins turn to ice. She stood unable to speak, for a moment, then she spoke in a whisper that could hardly be heard. “Forgive me again Holy Mother, I will leave you now”. Bowing low, the young Handmaiden turned and left the chamber, as she walked away, she could hear laughter, coming from the quarters of the woman, she once called Enor. She knew that she would never call her that again.

  Osh was still a prisoner, well fed and cared for, but still a prisoner. If he had to be held in solitude, there could be no other place better, than the one he was in. For longs days and nights, he had scanned the ancient parchments and artifacts, laid out before him. He read hundreds of ancient scrolls, and deciphered countless inscriptions in stone, now he sat back in his chair to ponder the meaning of it all.

  Knowledge; he thought; great knowledge is a power that destroys everything. Knowing this, made the old man sad, he now understood that to know all, is to be a force, stronger than any army or weapon, but it will destroy both the user, and those that it is used upon.

  He slowly put down the dusty scroll that he had been reading, he rose from his chair, then slowly began to move about the room, all the while, speaking words to his mind.

  The Overlords had vast understanding, they wanted more, they wished to know all, then become masters of all they understood. The old man moved to a table, lying upon it, was the twisted remains of some fantastic mechanism. For all their power, they forgot wisdom, and in the end they lost everything. Osh ran his thin fingers over the burned-out device, and nodded his large head. I come from a race that can count the stars, we never looked at their beauty, am I just another Cipher, a mechanism without feeling, without emotions, without...?

  It was then that he thought of his adoptive son, and how much he loved him, he knew that he was not just another interchangeable part, in some great computer species, he was a father.

  “Have you finished?” asked a voice.

  Osh looked up, to see Vatranius standing near the open door, with two large Norgoinie warriors behind him, both holding a lighted torch in one hand, and a Kagar in the other. The Holy Man was dressed in his usual long robe, he wore no head covering, and his arms and fingers did not carry jewelry, around his neck, hung a large medallion of strange workmanship.

  Osh moved to where he stood, he looked him in the eyes, “yes I have finished”, he said.

  The Holy Man smiled, “very good, now come with me”, leading the way, Vitranius led him from the room, down a long corridor. Behind him walked the warriors, their spears at the ready, in the slight chance that the old Nomad, might try to escape. The Callaxion knew that he would be caught in an instant, so he walked with his captors, his head held high.

  Down the walkway they went, with only torchlight to show the way. Osh had grown used to the dim light of his chamber, so he did not stumble on the worn walk stones
. They kept moving until they reached a large wooden door that Vatranius opened. They continued down a long flight of stairs that seemed to go on and on. From calculations of how many, and their approximate height, Osh determined that he was deep under the temple of Arm-Ra. As the old man looked around, he saw that it was a very strange place, it was not the great stone fortification that it appeared to be, from the outside. It was a hollow structure, filled with wondrous machinery and piping, huge gears and levelers, connected to more intricate devices. All through it, ran transparent walls, it was not glass, but some kind of reflective prism, much like the solar power storage on the Twin Worlds of Wanara. This seemed very strange to the Callaxion, there was no sunlight here, therefore it was of no use, as a power source. He also knew that on Gorn, things were not always as they appeared.

  Without speaking, they continued downward, moving through other chambers, filled with more unknown devices. At last they came to a large metal door, and stopped, the entrance was finely made, with markings and inscriptions and large lock in the center.

  The Holy Man reached out, and with his thin fingers, he pressed several points on the portal, with each touch, a slight “click” was heard. Osh understood, it was a code of some kind, to gain access through the door. He watched, remembering the combination, after several more clicks, the door latch opened.

  “Remain here”, the Holy Man said to the two warriors, then forcing the door open, he entered with Osh behind him, when they were inside, the Holy Man pushed the door closed, he pressed markings again, so that it could not be opened, without knowing the code.

  It was black as Eul inside the room, as the door closed behind them, the chamber slowly began to fill with a soft glow, as it grew, more of what lay inside came into view.

  Osh was not prepared for what he saw, the room itself was huge, its walls covered in the same reflective surfaces that he had already seen. The light that filled the room, emanated from dozens of large crystals that shone with a warm glow. It was what stood in the center of the chamber that made the old man draw in his breath, and stare in wonder.

  Osh had seen many wondrous things in his long life, machines and artwork that stunned the mind and made the heart sing. He had seen the carved glaciers on the Ice World of Ralbacore, and the magnificent constructions of the machine people of Bora-Car. All those paled, in comparison to the intricate marvel that now stood before him, looking at it, he thought, it could only have been made by the hand of a God.

  Its height could not be judged, for the light faded before it could reach the top, it’s circumference was as large as the great trees in the Caltarine forest. It was made of metal, but it also had organic compounds, and other strange materials that the old man had never seen before. Many, different colored crystals, ran through it, red, blue, green, all the colors of the spectrum. What seemed the strangest to Osh, was the fact that it whispered to him, it did not speak in words or images, it was more like the echo of a dream. Something that always lay just beyond your reach, always there, not there, a whisper of a whisper.

  “Can you hear it?” Vitranius asked.

  Osh nodded his large head, “yes, it’s almost like the voice of....” Then he caught himself, and did not speak further.

  The Holy Man moved closer to the great machine with Osh followed him, “I have listened to that voice for a great many cycles, I have never been able to speak to it”, Vitranius continued. “I first heard it, when I became the speaker for Arm-Ra, the High Priest at that time, had been killed and I took his power”.

  He had him murdered; Osh thought; power always seeks power.

  “From what I have learned, it was built by the Overlords, for what purpose exactly, I cannot say.” Vitranious moved to a section of the device that had a protrusion jutting from it. In form it resembled a chair or seat of some kind, for a misshapen body of a much greater size than, any humanoid, “As you can see, it has a place for something to sit, I have surmised that it is here that the control of the machine is centered”. The High Priest reached up and touched a mechanism that was centered over the strange chair, “I think this is meant to be placed over the controller’s head, then by mind-link, the machine is made to work”.

  Osh looked at the devise, he saw that it was made to fit a head much larger than even his; the Overlords used telepathy; he thought; this machine must use the same principle. “I agree that thought waves are the main source of guidance,” the old man said. “It is useless because of the Electro-magnetic waves that the Guardian sends out, it has no power.”

  “Agreed, I have managed to supply it with just enough energy, to have it operate on a very low level”.

  “How?” Osh asked.

  Vitranius pointed to the many glowing crystals surrounding them, “I have collected these power crystals, from many of the ruins and temples covering Gorn. Some brought by Nomads, who traded with the Norgonie, others I obtained from ancient structures in the hidden forest of Caltarine. It has taken me many lifetimes, but I have done it, now you will help me, open its secrets”.

  “If I refuse you will kill me?”

  The Holy Man shook his head, “no, I will kill the Madrigal”.

  From the look in Vitranius’s eyes, Osh knew that it was not an idle threat; if I give him what he wants, he will have great power; he thought; if I do not, he already has the power to fulfill his warning. “You would kill thousands, to gain your end?” he asked.

  To this, the High Priest laughed, “thousands, millions, what does it matter? They are small lives, unworthy to be lived. He stopped laughing, “give me what I want, or listen to them scream, as their hearts are offered to the Gods”. Ending his speech, the High Priest smiled; He will obey, he has no choice.

  I have no choice; Osh thought; he can call for a holy war, against the Outlanders, I cannot risk the deaths of those I care for. “What do you want me to do?”

  With a smile, the High Priest motioned to the strange chair, “as I have said, my mind has been weakened by the Tran, I no longer possess enough mind-power, to activate the machine, you have”. He pointed to the chair, “sit and place the upper device over your head”.

  The Old man, did as he was told, he slowly sat down in the uncomfortable seat, then he watched, as Vitranius put the medallion, into an indention on the machine.

  A key; he thought; the medallion is a key.

  After a moment or two, he felt a tingling sensation, as if he had touched a Spark-Eel. He let it pass and tried to concentrate on the task ahead. When he was seated, he reached up and pulled the cone shaped headgear down, over his skull, then he waited.

  At first there was nothing, when the High Priest saw no result, he moved close to the old man. “You are holding back, focus mind-lock interface on a level two platform and clear external interference.”

  It had been a long time, since Osh, had contact with one of the powerful Tollacian computers that were used throughout the Outer Rim, being a Callaxion and bred for such work, he had no problem activating his inner mind, he began to reach into the machine.

  It is hard to describe the workings of a Callaxion's mind, mere words are insufficient, the closest anyone can come to it, is to say, it’s like seeing music in the air, or falling into a perfect world, where all things touch in a pattern without end. It was within this world that Osh now floated, he was not alone, the whispering still remained.

  Hello? He spoke without speaking, he found no reply, he was still within his own mind, the voices he heard, were merely echos from the outside. So he concentrated harder, moving forward to a place that he knew as the ending of his mind, and the beginning of another. He drifted between a world of light and darkness, no matter how much he tried, he could not pass over.

  He tried every numerical progression he knew, hoping that it might trigger some reaction from the dormant machine, and gain him access. When that failed, he tried the entire Standard Interface Mindlock patterns, still he received no response.

  There is not enough power; he told himself;
the machine is sleeping. As he turned his mind away from the darkness, an image flashed before him, he saw a moving mountain of steel and bone. Bellowing smoke and ash, it roared like a thousand demons, as he stared at it, he at last heard a voice.

  “Atos is coming”, it said, he felt a pain that shook him to his very core.

  “Yaaaaaaaaaaaa!”, the old man screamed, as he opened his eyes, tearing off, the Mindlock covering from his head. He bolted from the chair and fell to the floor of the chamber, he lay there, drawing in deep gasps of air. The pain slowly faded, when it did, he saw the wrinkled face of Vitranius, looking down at him.

  “What did you see?” the Holy man asked. “Tell me what you saw?”

  Osh did not speak, he continued to stare into the cold eyes of the ancient Callaxion.