Chapter 40. Prayers Answered
The Nomads believe that the Gods answer all prayers, sometimes the answer is not the one that they have asked for. This is something that scholars of the Outer Rim have debated for countless cycles. How can followers of different Gods, still believe in their power, when those very same deities mistreat them? I think that it is a question that cannot be answered, for I have seen followers of omnipotent beings, still praying to their Gods as they died on their alters.
From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.
It had taken the combined power of the High Priestess and the Speaker of Arm-Ra, to command both the Madrigal and the Norgonie, meet at the great temple. There they would be told what the Gods expected of them.
Hearing that Egmar had talked with the Priest of the Forest-dwellers, made the Nomads grumble and proclaim that their Holy Mother, was under the spell of the Voice of the false God. A warrior, who had gone with their King, staggered back to the fortress, just before dying, he told them of the unholy things that lived in the Forbidden City. They resigned themselves, to never seeing their Leader again. There was much crying from the Elders and the Wailing women, they began to sing the songs of sadness. The warriors beat the ground with their war-axes, many vowed to return to the forest, there to take revenge for the death of their leader.
No one felt sadder for the loss of the King than, Kuno. He also understood that sending out warriors seeking retribution, would be useless. They were surrounded by Norgonie, tensions were escalating, they were also of the belief that their Queen, had met the same fate as Arn. So the old warrior told them to hold in their anger, and keep their eyes open, they did so.
The Forest-dwellers did not react in the same way, not only had they lost their beloved Queen, but also their best warrior. They shouted and called out for the deaths of the Outlanders. It became necessary to execute the leaders of the uprising, then hang their lifeless bodies on the fortress walls, before a delicate peace, was restored to the home of the Norgonie.
Now all was being made ready for a death ritual, Anais had pledged to give up his life if their Queen did not return. The fact that the Madrigal King also would never return either did not matter. A pledge was a pledge and there was nothing that could be done.
Inside his cell the blind Prince was resigned to his fate, he sat quietly in one corner of the small room, thinking about his past, and what might lie ahead.
All my life I have wished for the death of my brother; he thought; and now I am to give up my life for him. Strangely this brought a small smile to the Nomad's face, he found it amusing for all his scheming and well made plans, he had not realized that his life was not his to command. Something beyond his knowledge, had been guiding his past, he was like a drop of water in a raging stream. He was tossed from side to side, sometimes he broke on rocks, but all the time his path was clear, it could never be changed. Dam up a river and it will soon break its banks, dig a channel and a storm will come, the water will overrun its banks. There is nothing I can do; he thought; I must go with the stream until it runs to the ocean. He smiled again, he sounded like a Sun-Gazer, and he never thought that he would end his days as a Holy Man.
A Holy Man? He heard his mind ask, it made him laugh, never in all his dreams of power, did he see himself as a guide to those seeking wisdom. He heard footsteps and he knew that Kela had come to sit with him once more. He listened, as the young woman and his jailers drew near, then came the sound of a lock turning, and the iron door being opened, more sound as it closed and footfalls moving away.
For a time there was only silence, both knew that soon there would be no more meetings, and their forbidden love would end.
It was the Handmaiden who spoke first, “I regret nothing,” she said softly. Kela had lived most of her young life as a servant of the Goddess. She had prayed and sung the sacred songs, as loudly as anyone, she stood beside the Holy Mother, keeping herself chaste, throughout those cycles. Then she found love in the most unlikely place, by taking that love into her arms, she had given up her vow, in the eyes of her tribe, she was now one of the fallen.
Anais lifted his head to her, “I have only one regret”, he replied, he arose and moved to stand close to the young Handmaiden. “I regret that I cannot see your eyes.” he said, then he kissed her.
They stood there for a time, not thinking about anything but what they held in their arms, they felt a contentment that few children of Isarie, would ever come to know.
Deep in the earth, and out of the sight of the Goddess, the Coraw of the Sandjar slaves, listened as two Norgonie guards, spoke of the coming death of the blind Prince. They laughed, saying how much they looked forward, to seeing the blood of an Almadran, stain the sacrificial stone of Arm-Ra. Although Endo no longer considered himself a member of the tribe, he still owed a debt to the Outlander King, and the blood-mother who had born him on her back. He felt a greater obligation to those of his kind, and freeing them from their oppressors, He now put his plan into action.
He had shown them, how to fashion crude effective weapons, from cast off bits of metal and wood. Working unnoticed during their rest periods, they managed to construct knives and spears that would kill in close combat. Chipping the hard Eul, they made ax heads which they attached to wooden handles, made from broken level supports. All this was done in great secrecy, the finished weapons were buried under coverings of earth, in places where the guards did not venture.
Even the carcass of the Gorno was used, when it was killed, the Sandjars were ordered to dispose of the remains because its flesh was vile, and could not be eaten. They quickly dragged the giant worm into a section of tunnel that was no longer used. They returned later, to remove the monster’s teeth, to be used as daggers. They even coated the sharp edges with the venom of Rock-worms so that even if the Norgonie did not die from its cut, they would soon after be screaming in agony.
Weapons alone do not make an army, knowing this. Endo would sit and speak of freedom and the world above, and all the things that a Sandjar, should be doing. As he spoke, the slaves listened with growing excitement. Soon the galleries, whispered of a time, when they would rise up and take revenge on their masters, then walk in the light once more. He knew that many of his kind would die, perhaps all of them, when they reached the surface. They would have to fight the warriors of the forest, but it would be a better death than sitting and rotting in the bowels of the earth.
His life was his own, but he would give it up gladly, rather than spend it in slavery. However he could not ask his people to do the same. So when the Iron Gate was shut and locked, and the guards no longer watched, he asked them to gather in the great chamber, to listen to what he had to say. Being their Coraw, they obeyed.
Now with Rawna close at his side, and Mog standing nearby, the young Sandjar began to speak.
“I have no power, I am only one, but one can become many, if a hand is offered. I was once free, and I will fight to be free again. You have never been free, but if you stand together, you may know what freedom means.” As he spoke, he knew that many of them, would not be able to understand his words. Looking at female by his side, he took her hand in his. “Many of you, have suffered at the hands of the Norgonie,” he said softly, to the female. He knew that still his words were incomprehensible, so he thought for a moment.
They do not understand, I will have to speak in a way that reaches them. He stood tall, then began to speak once more, “there is food above!” he pointed with his clawed finger, “all the food you want!” Hearing something that they understood clearly, the Sandjar began to growl in their throats. “When I command, we will feast on the flesh of the pain givers!” Now the Scavengers began to roar and scream in rage. “When I call for you to stand with me, your feast will come!”
Hearing those words, Mog beat his large fists upon the ground, he picked up his friend and held him high above his head. “Coraw!” he shouted out.
Once more the people of the darkness, repeat
ed the name, over and over again, filling the chamber with hope.
Down the long tunnels, the shouts, were heard by the Norgonie watchmen. They only laughed and shook their heads, they knew, it was only the cries of slaves, no more dangerous than the sting of a Dot-fly.
The noonday sky above the great fortress, was dark and filled with foreboding, boiling clouds shot with lightning bolts, tumbled across the heavens. For many, it was a sure sign that the Gods were not content. The Forest-dwellers and the Outlanders, could see black smoke, rising from the direction of the Forbidden City, both tribes said it was an evil omen of things to come. The Elders said that it was a sign from the Gods, and that the ritual of death, should be postponed until this dark prophecy, could be understood. The warriors of the Norgonie, said that the smoke was a call for blood by Arm-Ra, and that any delay, was just trickery on the side of the Nomads. To this, the Outlanders replied that no Forest-dweller, could be trusted, and they shouted that Isarie would protect them.
So once more the two tribes sharpened their weapons, and watched each other’s movements closely, this did not go unnoticed by Egmar, as she stood, looking out over her people from the high platform of the moving shrine.
She listened to the rumbling sky, and saw the dark clouds and the smoke in the distance. It did not frighten her, as once it would. Now she no longer cared, about what might happen, to those she once loved. She wore a black robe, trimmed in gold and silver, on her head, sat a tall headdress, made from the bones of sacrificial animals. It was only worn during rituals of death, and all who saw it, knew that someone was about to die. The High Priestess, held an ivory staff in her left hand. It had a human skull attached to one end, the skull was ancient, it once belonged to the very first Holy Mother, a reminder that one day, all life ends. It had mystic symbols, covering its whitened surface, two large rubies, were fixed into the eye sockets. Around the throat of the old woman, was a necklace also made of bones and gold, connected to it was a large medallion of silver, with the face of the Angel of Death upon it.
What fools they all are; the Holy Mother thought, as she looked down at her people, and the Forest-dwellers too; soon all their cares will vanish in fire, and they will know that the one true God, has come. A smile covered her face, and she looked down at her staff, and the large black demon that sat upon the ancient skull.
“Soon”, the creature said, “soon he will come and all will die”.
“Yes death is coming”, Egmar replied, it was not an idle boast, unknown to anyone, she had placed a small sharp dagger beneath her robe, with it she would end the life of the High Priest of Arm-Ra.
Her plan, was to wait until her son was dead, the alter of the false God, stained with his blood. Then before anyone could react, she would plunge the dagger into the heart of Ormandis, and watch him die. She would say that he had betrayed the Gods, and it was his fault that their Queen was dead. If any did not heed her words, she would call for war, and let both sides kill the other. What did it matter? When her true son arrived, all would perish anyway.
“Death is coming”, she said again, hearing her words, the servants of Isarie nodded their heads, they knew that the blind Prince was to be sacrificed, and that their Holy Mother was only speaking the truth.
The Handmaidens wore thin robes of black cloth, their faces were stained red with the juice of Safic berries, their long hair was braided with bone and golden beads. Several of them, held silver brassieres in their slim hands, whence bellowed fragrant smoke, it filled the air with the scent of Death Shadow flowers. The wavering mist, would calm the hearts, of those who came within its reach, the past would become a dim memory for a while. It would ease the pain of those who were close to Anais, and the servants of the Goddess, hoped that it would do so for Egmar. They did not know that she had long ago, driven out any feelings for her youngest son, and that she would watch his heart being cut from his body, with no more regret than a warrior stepping on a Blaze-ant.
The Holy Mother looked over at the temple of Arm-Ra, she saw its golden pinnacle and the sacrificial fire that now burned there. She listened to the sound of the silver gong, calling the faithful to the temple, there to witness the power of their deity.
Let them believe in their false God; she thought; let them pray if they like, soon they will understand; she turned and with her Handmaidens behind her, she started for the temple and the Ritual of Death.
Vitranius had prepared himself for what was to come, only he knew that more were to die this day than just the unlucky Prince of the Outlanders. He had spent the morning, preparing the Holy Monks of Arm-Ra and speaking with the commanders of their warriors. He told them that the Gods had spoken to him, they demanded, not only the death of the Nomad Prince, but the death of the Holy Mother as well, for she was a witch of the Outlands, and that Egma's face, was a spell mask, hiding her true features. Unknown to the Holy Mother, the Callaxion had sent one of his servants, posing as a Sin-Craver, to enter her chamber. He had watched and listened then reported back to the High Priest. The monk told him of the depravities, and unclean activities of the Holy Mother, now he would use the information to blacken her name, and drive her from power.
He looked at himself in the large reflecting plate in his chamber, he smiled at what he saw. He did not see the image of a gaunt and wrinkled old man, who had seen the best part of his long life already lived. He did not see the dark eyes that no longer held any caring for others, or a spark of mercy for those weaker than he. As he looked at the tall figure, clothed in rich finery, wearing a medallion that could unlock the secrets of the universe, he saw a man who had just begun his destiny.
If he had truly believed in Arm-Ra, he would have prayed to him and given thanks for the power that was his, and the power that was yet to come. He did not, his only thoughts were of himself.
Soon it will all be mine; he thought; and mine alone. His thin lips curled up in a slight smile, as he turned to face his shaven headed servants, “it is time,” he said. Hearing their High Priest's words, the long line of obedient monks, began walking to the stone stairway that would take them to the upper most level of the temple. There they would serve their master, and Arm-Ra the greatest of all Gods.
Osh was not, aware of what was about to happen, he still floated in that space between life and death. He lay unmoving in his chamber, attended by a servant of Arm-Ra, in case he should awake from his slumber. High above the silver gong sounded, it called both the Norgonie and the Madrigal to the great temple. The old man did not hear the sacred chiming, his world was one of moving shapes and landscapes, filled with visions.
The Callaxion stood, surrounded by lush vegetation and mighty trees, the sounds of animals and birds were everywhere, the air smelled sweetly of blooming flowers. Before him stood a great statue of stone. It rose high above his head and unlike others that dotted the lands of Gorn, this one seemed to have been freshly carved, unmarked by time. It was made in the likeness of a God-man, his strong body, was covered in thick armor and a tall helmet covered his head. In one hand, he held a thunderbolt, and in the other the head of a slain enemy. As Osh gazed at the statue, his eyes moved down to its base, he saw an inscription carved in stone.
“Atos”, he heard himself say. “This statue, is Atos the Outlander God of War.” He remembered where he had seen this figure before, “Korath Enargo, the Path of Pain”. It was the very same statue, unworn by weather and the passing of ages.
Somehow I have been transported back in time; he thought.
He knew that time travel, was not, possible, based upon Outer Rim knowledge. He looked closer at the base, he saw more inscriptions and markings, cryptic symbols that now he could easily read. Like all of his kind, his mind immediately recorded the information, it would never be forgotten.
He heard a voice calling to him.
“You are Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion are you not?”
Looking over, he saw a woman dressed in a simple green robe, smiling at him. She was as advanced in years as h
e. She had no nails on her long fingers, for her body size, her head was large, and it had an import hole on one side. Her face was kind with bright eyes, anyone looking at her, would have said she was Callaxion. Females of that species, were never allowed to interface with Outer Rim computers, so the old man was puzzled?
“You ask me my name, first I must have yours”, he said, forgetting that he was in a dream, and thinking that the woman before him was real.
The old woman moved slowly towards him and spoke, “I have no name, for there were none before me”, she spoke quietly“, you know me, we have spoken before”.
For a moment Osh did not understand what she was saying, then a memory, and that lyrical voice, came flooding back into his mind, “it is you”, he said, “the Guardian in my dreams”.
To these words, the old woman smiled again, “yes it is I”, she replied.
“How can this be?” he asked. “I can see you now, but I know that you are not real”.
“You are only seeing what your mind can see”, she said softly. “There are none who, can see all of me.” The phantom moved closer to the human, she touched his face with her hand. “You are a good man, Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion, you have a caring heart and a strong mind.” When she touched his face, he suddenly saw all his past life, in fragments of images that ran past his inner eye in a flash of memory. He saw his birth in the womb-chambers on Callaxia, his youth in the mind training schools, his long years as a programmer. His banishment, his meeting with Andra and the Nomads. He saw it all and when it was done, it left the old man weak. Yet still he remained a Callaxion.
“Who are you, what is your chemical and biological construction?” he asked, ready to Mind-Lock the information for further study later. The woman only laughed.
“You would not know me”, she said. Suddenly her aged face turned into a young one, “I was once a simple thing, now I am more than can be understood. I live in all things of this world”, her young face took on the features of the many different animals of Gorn. Nn an instant, the Old man saw all the creatures great and small that lived and died on her world. Rimar, Trofar, Doff-birds, Shellbacks all the Thundra beasts of the Outlands. Then the life forms that dwell in the sea, Leviathans, Floaters, and things too strange to have names, even the mighty Earthshakers, passed before his eyes, and still there was more. Rowgors, Sagars, Daggermouths, the great and the small, they were all there, all the living things that made their home on this world. They all dwelt in the creature before him. He looked once more upon the woman's face, he knew that he could never understand.
She is beyond my mind; he thought. He knew that this power would not speak to him without a reason. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
The face of all things, began to grow and grow, until it filled his entire mind, with the image came a voice that echoed through eternity.
“When the time comes, you will know, what you will know”, it said.
The face began to vanish, and the old man cried out, “and what will I do with this knowledge?”
The answer came. “You will save my world.”
The peoples of both tribes, heeded the words of the Speakers of the Gods, they prepared themselves for the ritual of death. The Outland warriors, cleaned their armor and sharpened their weapons. They had spent the morning in prayer and singing the ancient death songs. Telling tales of past glories, and although many of them, remembered the evils that the young Prince had done in the past, they did not speak of them. They only said that Anais was a Prince of the bloodline that his death, should not come at the hands of the Norgonie. Some of them, even spoke of rising up against the Forest-dwellers, and attacking them during the ritual. When Kuno heard of their plans, he came forward quickly, he told them that it would blacken the name of the Madrigal. The young Prince had chosen his own path, it was not their right to change it. So they cooled their anger and vowed that they would not raise their weapons.
The Nogonie warriors, also grumbled, they wanted more than one death for the life of their Queen, and her warrior son. They dare not go against the word of their High Priest, so they painted their bodies and wore their best finery, still many of them said that revenge should be taken.
The Thungodra also made themselves ready, they knew that they were in the stronghold of the Norgonie. Danger lay behind every corner, so they slept with one eye open, watching for any sign that their Holy Mother might be harmed. They put on their best armor and they polished the dark metal, so that they resembled the poisonous sand beetles of the Outland's dunes. They also prayed to Isaire for strength, then they filled their mouths with large quantities of Grana, knowing that the gift of the Goddess, would aid them if they were attacked.
It was not, certain that the Gods could hear the prayers of the Forest-dwellers or the Outlanders, storm clouds filled the sky and the sound of thunder echoed over the land of Caltarine.
The Nomads and the Norgonie, gathered at the base of the great temple, as they had done before. On one side the Forest-dwellers stood, watching the Outlanders, who in turn watched them. Both sides were uneasy, it would take only a small insult from either side, to break the uneasy peace. They stood gripping their weapons tightly, once more the sound of the silver gong filled the air, and the ritual began.
The Holy Mother of the Madrigal, sat on her ornate litter, held high by a dozen strong warriors, She was surrounded by her Handmaidens and loyal Thungodra. As the Outlanders ritual drums, beat out a tempo, the Holy Mother moved towards the gigantic pyramid. The Nomads watched her passing, they bowed their heads in a sign of respect, many of the Elders, whispered prayers to Isarie, to keep their Holy Mother safe.
There were also prayers from the Norgonie that Arm-Ra should strike her, and send down a demon to from the sky, to take her soul, to show all the unbelievers that there was only one true God.
Egmar heard the blessings of her tribe, and the curses of the Forest-dwellers, she only smiled to herself.
They will all soon know what a true God is; she thought; soon HE will come, soon Rahash will stand before them. She looked down at her lap, the dark spider sat there, she heard its words in her mind. “Yes he will come”, spoke the dark demon, in a voice that only Egmar could hear. “He is not far now, he will come and all will die!”
The Holy Mother held her head high, as she was carried to the base of the temple, then the litter was lowered. After waiting for her Handmaidens to gather around her, she began walking up the long steps to the altar stone, soon to be stained with her son’s blood.
From high atop the pyramid, the High Priest of the Norgonie, emerged into the day, with him were his many shaven headed monks. The young men stood naked, their strong bodies, stained dark red while their faces were painted white, with the markings of a death skull. Many of them carried braziers of sweet smelling incense, while others held sacred statues and icons of their faith.
Again and again, thunder broke the air and lightning flashed across the sky. Soon rain would fall, but it would not stop the Angel of Death, coming down from the sky, and taking the Nomad Prince's soul to the Afterlife.
The Old priest, watched Egmar slowly climbing up the stone steps; that is right old woman; he thought to himself; come to me, come and meet your fate. It was his plan, to sacrifice the young Prince and watch his blood flow over the sacred ston. Then with the blade still fresh with death, he would plunge it into the Holy Mother's heart, proclaiming that it was the will of the Gods. He was sure, there would be a great uprising amongst the Nomads. He was confident that when he told them of the depravities that the servant of Isarie, had been indulging in. They would cool their anger and war would be avoided. If they refused to listen, he was also confident that the Norgonie could overcome them. There would be much death of course, but what are the lives of a few Nomads, when it comes to the power that would be his.
With visions of himself as the Lord of all Gorn, filling his mind, the sacred gong sounded again, Egmar and her Handmaidens, stood before him.
&
nbsp; “You are welcome at the temple of Arm-Ra,” he said to his rival. Yes, welcome to wait, death is coming for you.
To this the Holy Mother nodded her head, “thank you, it is a good day and the Gods will be watching”, she replied. They will watch you die!
Vitranius smiled to himself, as he looked out over the mass of Outlanders and Norgonie; they worship smoke and dreams; he thought; soon they will worship me! Slowly, he moved to the bloodstained altar and stood before it, waiting for the sound of the gong to fade, when the air was quite, he spoke in a loud voice.
“There is a time for life and a time for death, a vow has been given and a promise made, let the one who made that vow come to his promise.”
A great bolt of lightning broke, and rumbled over the fortress and the forest beyond. The great silver gong was struck and with the sound of it still hanging in the air, Anais was brought forth. Earlier he had been taken from his cell and placed in a chamber at the base of the temple, guarded by several strong warriors. He was given food and drink, but he did not partake of them. He just sat with Kela at his side, holding her hand, they did not speak. He thought over, the past cycles of his life, all his faults and sins, he prayed, not for himself, but the young woman at his side. He wished that her life would be filled with contentment after he was gone. In turn, the young Handmaiden prayed that this day would never, end that she could hold the hand of the one she loved, through all time. Now that time was over, with another strike of the huge gong, he was taken from the dark room into the light.
He wore a simple robe, without embellishments, no gold or silver, hung from his neck or around his arms. A Prince of the Madrigal, was entitled to meet his end, wearing his best. He turned down the offer, and wore only this plain robe. His only request, was to have Kela at his side, so that she could lead him. Seeing no harm in this, his wish was granted, now both of them stood close together, surrounded by warriors of the Norgonie.
Once more lightning broke the sky, it blended with the sound of the silver gong. As the sounds hung in the air, Anais and Kela, began the long ascent up the stone stairway, to the death that was awaiting. They did not speak as they move upwards, there was nothing to be said. Again and again, the air filled with the sound of thunder, many of the Elders fell upon their knees and lifted their hands to the sky, knowing that it was sign from the Gods. Even the dense forest outside the Fortress, echoed with the wild cries of Sagar cats and great beasts of the woodlands, as if they knew that danger was near.
Along with the sound of the gong and the wailing of beasts, the people of the Outlands and the Forest-dwellers, chanted and beat the ground with their weapons. They were bred, to be warriors and knowing that blood would soon flow, the killing rage began to grow within them.
Egmar watched her son ascending the stone steps, with each level, her heart began to beat harder; come and end your life; she thought. Join your brother and sister in death.
Vitranius also watched the young Prince coming towards him. A few more steps and all will end for you; he mused. Then your fool of a mother will join you in the Afterlife.
Anais held Kela's hand tightly, it was not from fear of falling, he simply wished he could hold her forever; I will miss her; he thought; perhaps we will meet again in the Afterlife?
Kela too, did not want to loosen her grasp of the man she loved; not enough time; she thought; a hundred lifetimes would not be enough.
They reached the last step and stood before the Norgonie High Priest, “you have made a vow and now you will fulfill that promise”, he said.
“I have and I will”, replied the blind Prince, he turned to the Handmaiden at his side, “I will wait for you”, then he reached out and kissed her softly on her lips.
“I will come soon”, Kela replied.
It sounded like an empty promise. No one knew that the young woman had made a vow to Shawcona, the Goddess of Love. She would throw herself off the top of the temple, when the High Priest plunged the dagger into her lover's heart.
Once more the great gong sounded, then it was quiet. Vitranius motioned to his servants, they placed Anais on the sacrificial stone. He did not fight, he lay quietly as they bound his arms and legs to the bloodstained rock, they opened his robe so that his chest lay naked, ready for the knife.
“etaro niashto emargorana Isarie tar agro may”, Anais said softly, they were words from the old language of the Nomads. It meant “Isarie forgive my sins and make me whole”.
Kela did not look at Egmar, or show any sign that she was once a Handmaiden of Isarie. She only wanted the ritual to end, so she could walk with her lover in the Afterlife.
“Row emarra cantro etarus”, she whispered. It meant, “we give of ourselves”.
She watched as the cutting dagger was placed in the High Priest's wrinkled hand. When the ancient Callaxion felt the knife in his palm, he turned and spoke in a loud voice, so that all would hear.
“A vow of death has been made!” he shouted, “if anyone disputes this, let them look to the skies and the Gods for mercy”. He lifted the dagger and prepared for the killing blow. “Ragute Ranana Trocoro Arm-ra, all glory to Arm-Ra” he called out.
Lightning thundered, warriors chanted, the time had come.
As Kela looked up at the sky, she made herself ready for her death. Then she saw something coming out of the smoke from the south, without knowing why she called out loudly.
“THE GODS HAVE ANSWERED!”
Hearing the young woman's words, the High Priest lowered his arm and looked up at the rumbling sky. He saw dozens of dark creatures, winging their way towards him. For a moment, he thought it was a trick of the light or perhaps an illusion, the images came closer and he knew they were real.
Egmar too, saw the great flying beasts, it filled her with dread, somehow she knew this was not the coming of the God that had been foretold.
The Madrigal and Norgonie alike, looked up to see the huge reptiles, flying towards them. The warriors lifted their weapons and prepared to fight, while the Elders gathered the young close to them, and prayed to Isarie and Arm-Ra for deliverance. Screams of terror filled the air, along with the war cries of the two tribes, all mixed with booming thunder and the flash of lightning.
To the sound of beating of wings, dark shadows fell upon the ground, the sky filled with giant winged reptiles, and a returning King.
The huge Screecher bearing the King and his Mate, was guided by the risen warrior, to land on top of the great temple. Those standing there, watched as Arn and Andra, leaped down from its back, they stood before them alive and well. Arn was covered in blood and filth from the earth, his eyes blazed with a raw power, as he stood like a dark God of death and vengeance. For a moment there was silence, the High Priest and the Holy Mother, gazed into the eyes of the warrior they thought dead.
“I have returned”, Arn said quietly, he saw the sacred dagger in Ormadis'e clawed hand, and he spoke again. This time in a loud voice, so that all could hear. “Your Queen and I, live, if you do not believe me, look to the skies!” He pointed upwards with his war-ax.
Above him, flew the Honnargar and the Queen and her son. The great flying beasts, fell from the sky, all those below, moved quickly out of their way, least they are crushed by the immense creatures. Shouts of terror, and screams arose, as the Madrigal and Norgonie, scurried for safety. Clouds of dust billowed up from the ground, as the wings of the titans beat the air. When all had landed, the warriors looked in wonderment, at the Giants of the Earth.
The King turned to the High Priest of Arm-Ra. “There will be no death here today,” he said, looking deeply into the old man’s eyes, he lifted his ax, “unless you wish to challenge me?”
Vitranius wisely let the sacrificial knife drop from his hand, he turned to the Monks, “release him”, he said, pointing to the bound Prince. They quickly removed Anais' bindings, he rose from the alter stone, when he did, Kela ran to his side and held him tightly.
Egmar, watched her plans of vengeance, vanish into the
air, like a morning mist, She turned to her son and his mate, she saw the cocoon wrapped around Andra, stirring. She watched, as Andra unwrapped a tiny creature, and held it in her arms.
“What kind of creature is this?” She asked.
Everyone who could see, looked at Moonbud, they gazed at the strange looking creature in her arms. As thunder and lighting, filled the sky, they wondered if this was a demon from the Pit or a gift of the Gods?
Nomads The Fallen God Page 41
