Chapter 48. The Pyre
When a Queen of the Norgonie dies, the Forest-dweller’s build a massive mound of wood they place her body upon it, then they lay offerings at the base and ignite it. They do not weep for her passing, for they believe that her soul will absolve them of all sins.
From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.
The Norgonie Fortress, had survived the death of Atos, but many Nomads and Forest-dwellers did not. The next day, they gathered their bodies and prepared them for burial, according to their custom. The Nomads washed their dead, then dressed them in their finest armor. They took the Journey-Nail from around their necks, and drove it through their hand, so they could carry their axes into the Afterlife. They dug a hole, and buried them there, with a tankard of well-aged Po, a loaf of Kasha bread and a bowl of Grana. All this was done, while the Holy Mother prayed, and the Handmaidens, chanted ancient songs of the dead.
The Norgonie, burned their brethren, their ashes spread in the forest, so that they might become one with it. They did not do this with their Queen, she was worthy of a special ceremony, to ensure the welfare of the tribe, and bring the favor of Arm-Ra to all.
As well as the Outlanders and Forest-dwellers, another group of warriors, had given their lives to protect their Leader.
The Honnargar, were no more.
The blast from the dying warship, was too great, even for the risen giants. Their huge armored bodies, had been strong enough, to protect the Narga Entaro, their King from harm. Since there was no ritual, laid down in the Book of Isarie, for honoring the ancient warriors, they decided to bury them, as if they were members of the tribe. They did not place sour wine and bread in the ground with them, no, for such warriors, a special offering must be made. They killed a Sagar cat, for each of them, cutting up the meat, and laying it around the huge armored bodies. Then they filled a great Trofar horn, with the animal’s blood for them to drink. They did not say prayers for them, they were not followers of Isaire, but the Nomads cut their arms, and let their blood drip into the graves, to show their respect. When all was made ready, they were covered with soil and rock. They put the heads of slain Galu, on top of the mounds, so that all may know, this was the place where the Giants of the Earth slept.
The Touchtenders cared for Andra and Valen's wounds, being a Nomad, the Caladon warrior would soon be healed. The Off-Worlder, only had cuts and bruises, to show for her battle, with rest and Grana, she would soon be healed. The child had survived too, with her mother, she was taken to the King's tent, where a dozen strong warriors, made sure they were safe.
Not everyone was content with events, when the metal monster had been destroyed, the Norgonie found their Slaves had escaped. They turned their weapons on the Sandjar, and were about to drive them back underground. One of them called out, saying, he was not a slave, but a member of the Madrigal tribe. The Norgonie, never hearing a Scavenger use words they could understand, were taken aback. Before they could kill the blasphemous creature, Kuno called out, saying, the young Sandjar, was indeed telling the truth. So they held back, saying this was a matter to be decided by the Queen. Since she was dead, power of life or death, should have gone to the next in line, the High Priest of Arm-Ra. His body now lay at the base of the Great Pyramid, under a thousand blocks of stone. After the single blast of power, the Holy Temple closed, and it could not be entered again.
Without a Queen or speaker for their God, they turned to the Madrigal King, for judgment, as night fell, he stood in the Great Dome before the two tribes. On one side of the King, was the Blind Prince, and his Handmaiden, and on the other, stood Endo, the rest of his kind, were being guarded by the surviving Thungodra.
“Many Outlanders and Norgonie have been lost”, he spoke, loud enough for all to hear, “and the Angel of Death, still hovers over this place. Will killing the Sandjar, bring back your Queen, or the Speaker of the Gods?” He heard a great grumbling from the Forest-dwellers, they did not want their slaves freed. “You are not followers of Isarie, but her words are still true, no one shall make a slave of another!” Hearing they should listen to the words of a false God, the Norgonie shouted out in rage.
“We will not bend our knees to Isarie”.
“Arm-Ra is the only true God”.
“You are not a speaker of truth”.
More heated words followed, soon the Nomads and Forest-people, were shouting insults at each other. Holding weapons at the ready, they had already forgotten, a day before, they stood together as one. That was when, Anais called out to them.
“My brother is a strong warrior, and the Angel of Death knows his face. When war is done, and your children call out to you, to hold them, will you say you cannot stand, without the help of slaves?” He waited for a moment, letting his words take hold. “Will you say, the Norgonie cannot live without the strength of the Sandjar, will you say, slaves can do something, you cannot?”
There was still grumbling in the dome, but the Forest-dwellers did not shout, seeing his words were taking hold, he continued speaking. “Ishea is dead, you have lost a strong Queen. Let it be remembered in the cycles ahead, the Norgonie were a strong people, who freed their slaves, to show they could stand on their own!”
A silence hung in the dome, as the warriors talked amongst themselves, then Endo began to speak.
“Many of you would say, a creature like me cannot talk”, hearing the young Sandjar addressing them in their own language, made both Forest-dweller and Nomad, stop talking, they look at the green skinned Sandjar. “My father told me that all creatures can learn, he taught me many things, I was once a Scavenger but I have changed. Now, I teach, those who were once your slaves, and I say this. If you try to make slaves of them again, they will die first, and your blood will mix with theirs.”
For a moment, the tide of thought, could have gone either way, knowing this, the King made ready to fight. Although the Sandjar was not of his kind, he was still a member of the tribe, and therefore he would be protected, like anyone else.
However, they did not go to war, perhaps they had, had enough bloodshed for a while? Maybe they did not want, to mar the time of their Queens passing, with more hatred? Or it might just have been, the King's will was strong enough, to cool their anger. Arn's heart, was heavy with sadness over the loss of Ishea. Whatever the reason, the Norgonie did not call for war, and their slaves were freed.
While events were unfolding in the Great Dome, a ritual was being performed in Holy Mother's tent. With her son's death, the veil of darkness, lifted from Egmar's mind, she remembered all she had done. The blasphemies, degradations and depravities, came flooding back into her mind. She wept as she knelt before Isarie's golden statue, praying for forgiveness. Around her, the Handmaidens sang ancient songs of the Goddess, they lifted sweet smelling incense, as they had been trained. They also did it, for love for their mistress, they saw the Holy Mother, was herself once more, and the demon that had possessed her, was gone.
They spent the day, removing all trace of the that time, the sacred statues, were made clean with fire and water, the Holy Book of Isarie, was placed once more upon its pedestal. They threw out the trappings of wealth and comfort, they ate only stale Kasha bread, and drank only bitter water. Many of them, beat themselves with “Anarish Noc-Ator”, the tail of the dragon, as a punishment for being seduced by the comforts of the outside world.
None of this could bring contentment to Egmar's mind, she could not drive out the thought, of the terrible things, she had done.
I am not worthy of the Goddess' love; her thoughts cut like a knife; I have broken too many laws, to be forgiven, and I will not see the face of Isarie.
She wept again, and prayed for mercy, for her retched soul.
Ral also prayed, but not for himself, he prayed for his mother. The young warrior, was alone in the Queens tower chamber, he did not want to show his grief to the tribe. He stood at the foot of bed, bathed in the soft glow of torches, looklng down on the woman, who gave him lif
e.
Ishea’s body, was washed and dressed, in the regalia, she would wear in the Afterlife. She wore the fighting harness of a warrior, made from the hide of a Sagar cat, she had killed. Her hair, was braided with ivory and gold beads, silver rings hung from her ears, around her neck, lay a necklace of the finest Sagar teeth. Her arms were circled with bracelets, intricately woven with gold and silver. Her limbs and body, were decorated with the green and brown markings that all Norgonie wore, around her waist was a wide belt, holding a long dagger. In her right hand she held a Kagar, whose tip was made of the sharpest Itarian steel, in case she had to fight her enemies, in the world beyond.
As the young Prince gazed at his mother, a flood of images raced before his inner eye. His youth, as a young warrior, learning how to fight, and how to survive the dangers of the forest. Standing beside his mother, as they battled the Galu, and other enemies who came into their land. The feasting with his tribe, his passage into manhood, and through all this, his mother had been at his side. He smiled with contentment, it had been the best time, and he would always remember, who loved him. Once more his hatred of his father, began to grow within him, he longed to fight him again, to drive his Kagar, deep into his heart. The King had spared his life, when they fought outside the Fortress, and again in the darkness of the Forbidden City. He drove those images away, and returned to the pain that for so many years, had been his only comfort.
He left me behind; he raged in his mind; I was left with only my mother to raise me.
Then a strange thing happened, as he realized, although he was raised by one, he did not have half a life. I am a strong warrior; he thought; and I owe that to my mother, for she was both father and mother to me.
Killing the King, would not bring Ishea back, he knew she had forgiven his father of the injustices done to her. He realized, she would want him to do the same, he finally, let go of his rage. Moving next to his mother, he reached out and touched her cheek, he spoke in a soft voice.
“Through all the days of my life, you will be with me.”
After saying this, he bent down and put his head upon his mother’s breast, for the first time in his bitter life, he wept tears of sorrow.
When Endo was certain his people would not be harmed, he began searching for his father. At first, he thought he was safe with the Elders and the Children, deep in the forest, but when they returned, the old man was not amongst them. Then he thought; maybe he had been hiding somewhere in the Fortress. He knew the Callaxion, was practiced at staying out of harm’s way, but that idea also proved to be fruitless. His thoughts turned dark, perhaps he had been killed, in the battle with the machine, but his body, was not with the dead.
All seemed lost, with no other places to search, he returned to his kin, they were gathered together, near the entrance to the underground mines. The King commanded, they be given food and drink, and whatever else they needed, and so it was done. As they huddled under the star speckled sky, Endo sat next to Rawna, and they both looked up at the moons. The Sandjar had never seen the night sky before, and many of the young were frightened, the Elders held them tight, calming them with soothing sounds, and the touch of warm hands.
Rawna was amongst those who feared the open sky, so she drew close to her mate. Seeing that she was fearful, Endo put his arm around her.
“There is nothing to fear now”, he said softly, “you are free”.
The green skinned female, cocked her head to one side and smiled, “yes, freedom”, she said, “freedom together”.
Endo had fulfilled his promise, to set his people free, but without the wisdom of his father, he was not sure, if freedom, would prove to be, a good thing or a curse.
Andra had also searched for her old companion, she went alone. Acting as leader for both tribes, Arn was busy, and was not often in their tent. While the King's mate, looked for the old man, the Handmaidens cared for the child, but no matter what they tried, they could not get the infant, to eat anything but Grana and she would only drink water. Still they did as commanded, and the child was kept safe.
Andra found nothing of Osh, she heard rumors that he had been taken to the temple of Arm-Ra. Now it was destroyed and nothing, could break the Overlord weapon's seals, she resigned herself, to never seeing, the old man's kind face again.
For three days and three nights, the Nomads and Norgonie labored together, in a clearing near the Fortress, they built a mound of wood, as high as ten tall men. When Sunbirth rose on the forth day, the twin suns, looked down upon a ritual that had not taken place in a great many cycles. This day, the Queen of the Norgonie, would rise to the heavens.
A great pyre of wood, was built using the strongest of trees, only the oldest of the forest giants, would be worthy of Ishea's last resting-place. A wooden staircase, was constructed on one side of the structure, so the Queen's body could be carried up, then placed on the highest level. A platform had been constructed there, on it, an ivory altar, made from Rowgor tusks, inlaid with silver. It was surrounded by offerings of gold, silver, Rimar horn, Sagar teeth and jewels. There were also great bowls of fruit, and many barrels of well-aged Po, weapons of the finest Itarian steel. Stacks of armor and fine cloth, richly made chests, with ornately carved wood, inlaid goblets, rugs, brightly decorated pottery, and all manner of precious things. A vast treasure worthy of any great ruler, all to be burnt.
At the base of the pyre, stood warriors of both tribes, once more, they wore their best armor and held a weapon in their right hand. Although it was not dark, they held burning torches in their left hand. Standing with them, was the King, and next to him, the woman called Moonbud. They wore the ancient armor that had served them so well, both carried axes, for this was a ritual of a warrior Queen.
The Norgonie were not followers of Isarie, so prayers would not, be offered by the Holy Mother. To show respect, her Handmaidens, and herself, stood solemnly, as well as a contingent of Thungodra. The servants of the Goddess, smeared their naked bodies with charcoal, holding smoking braziers of sweet smelling incense, they lifted them up and down as they had been trained. Egmar wore a red robe, embroidered with the mystic symbols of Arm-Ra, it had been made by the Norgonie. In her hand, she held a staff, topped with a large crystal, set with Sagar teeth. Even though she knew, Ormandis was not the Holy Man he appeared to be, she held her tongue, and let the dead lie quiet. It was clear she had done the right thing, when Vitranious stood upon the temple, screaming to the heavens in his madness, to bring an ending. The Forest-dwellers, thought he was calling down the wrath of Arm-Ra, on their enemy. When the Overlord machine, destroyed the metal monster, the warriors said, it was the power of the High Priest that had saved them. How could they know, it was the work of the old Callaxion.
Now the drums began to beat, and there was a blaring of signal horns, moving out of the Fortress towards them, was a line of tall Norgonie warriors, bearing Ishea’s body. They carried their Queen on a litter, made from Rowgor leg bones, leading them her son. Ral had covered his naked body, in the blood of a Sagar cat, for it was their custom, he walked slowly, his head held high. In his hand a Kagar, and at his waist, a strip of Rimar hide, holding a long dagger. Behind the litter, were a dozen or more warriors, holding the mummified heads, of the strongest enemies, slain in battle by Ishea. They would be placed at her feet, then burned with her, so the Gods could see, how mighty a warrior, was coming into their domain.
The procession continued, until it reached the tower of wood, as it passed the King, he moved to his son's side. They both began the upwards climb, if the High Priest had not been killed, he would have been beside Ral. With no one else to take his place, the Outlander was the best substitute.
As the drums continued to beat, the Norgonie watched their Queen, being laid upon the altar on top of the pyre. They placed the severed heads at her feet, and when all was ready, the warriors departed, leaving only the King and the young Prince. They stood for a moment, not saying anything, then Arn turned, to look at the son he had abandoned
.
“I have made many mistakes in my life”, he said softly, “ none as great, as the one that parted me from you”.
There were many feelings, stirring in Ral's heart, anger, remorse, sadness, hatred seemed to have vanished.
“We both loved my mother”, the young warrior replied, “perhaps someday, I will feel the same for you”.
Without saying anything else, Ral took one last look, at the fallen Queen and mother, who gave him life, then he turned, leaving her. The King stood for a moment, he reached into his belt, and took something out in his fist, moving to the altar, he placed it into his lost love's left hand.
A large pink sea shell.
Arn, had returned to the pool of the Death Shadow flowers, diving into the crystal waters, he came up, with the precious shell in his hand. Now he returned it, to its rightful owner, and when she looked at it in the Afterlife, she would know, his love had been true.
“I loved you once”, he said softly, “and you will always have a place in my heart”. He was going to say those words, before they were attacked, by the ape monster in the forest. Spoken too late, but spoken none-the-less.
With nothing more to be say, the King made the long walk down the stairs and away from the tower. He stood next to his mate again.
If this had been the funeral of a High Official, or the Emperor of an Outer Rim plane. There would have been an endless procession, of articulate speakers, to tell of the accomplishments and great deeds, of the deceased. They would have talked, and talked, and talked, saying how much they would be missed, and how empty their lives were now. It was not the way of the Norgonie, everyone knew of the Queen's deeds, and how her strength and wisdom, had kept them safe. For the rest of their lives, they would never forget her. So there was no need for flowery words. With a nod of the King's head, the warriors started marching past the great tower. They tossed their burning torches, high into the air, to land on the wooden pyre, which began to burn. Soon a great pillar of fire and smoke, rose into the heavens, making a light that any God, looking down upon the Land of Gorn, could see.
So passed Ishea, ruler of the Caltarine forests, feared warrior and slayer of her enemies, mate to Arn, King of the Madrigal. The mother of Ral, the greatest of the Forest-dwellers, a fearless hunter of Sagar Cats and destroyer of demons. The woman who stood before Atos, the fallen God, and saw him vanquished, and most of all, a strong Queen of the Norgonie.
Nomads The Fallen God Page 49
