Nomads The Risen God

by Gary Mark Lee

Kalgar-Rune was also having feelings, he had spent most of his time shouting at his Thungodra warriors and making sure that they feared seeing his scarred face if something they did displeased him. The old warrior knew that it was the only way to keep order and train the younger warriors in the ways of their following, now as he rode his strong Whiptail at the head of his men he looked up at the Holy Wagon that he would guard with his life. There at the top most level he could see the Holy Mother Egmar surrounded by her ever present Handmaidens, she wore a simple traveling dress and held her head high.

  She is a strong and wise woman the old warrior thought, any man would call himself proud to have her as his mate, the he suddenly realized what he was thinking and struck himself in the face with his thick hand causing his lip to bleed some, you are acting like a weak hearted fool he told his mind for he had taken a sacred oath never to think of mating let alone with the High Priestess of the tribe, such a thing would be Valcoush! a sacrilege before the Gods and he would surely spent all eternity in the Pit of Marloon. Now as the warm blood flowed onto his lips he wished with all his heart that there was an enemy to fight so that he might drown his desirers in the heat of battle. War is my mate he thought, and he lifted his heavy Tooth to look at it, you are enough to fill my heart, and he swung the weapon through the air listening to its cold voice, you are enough, but as he lowered the ax to his side he knew that he had spoken a lie, and a lie that you tell yourself is the worst of all. So he uttered a quick prayer to Isarie asking for guidance and forgiveness, his mind then returned to what he saw the night he had followed the strange child they called Niana, she is not one of us, she is something evil he thought, he knew the orders of the King that said that no harm should come to the girl but how could he stand by and see his tribe destroyed by a witch? He was a servant of the Goddess, a Thungodra warrior, he had killed many in defense of his tribe, she is not one of us, the more the thought the more it seemed that his world was crumbling, I wish to share my bed, the girl should be killed, I must not betray my oath, I am a Thungodra warrior, I am…..?

  “ARTOCK!”

  He shouted at the top of his lungs causing the warriors around him to turn and look but seeing his angry face they quickly turned away and pretended that they heard nothing. Kalgar smoothed his mind, adjusted himself in his saddle and began to utter another short prayer.

  “Forgive my sins, forgive my heart, forgive my mind, I know your book, I follow its teachings, I believe”. The old warrior continued to say these words over and over as the land pasted under the feet of his Whiptail.

  The break in the mountains was not a natural occurrence for the steep sides were smooth and surely were cut by machines and not by nature. In the light of the noonday suns it was easy to see the remnants of digging equipment, huge rusting hulks that were hundreds if not thousands of cycles old, they resembled long dead beasts and were the home of strange creature both human and otherwise.

  The creatures that dwelled in the caves and rock wells were called Broga, they were half as tall as an Outlander but strongly built with thick arms and powerful legs. In some respects they resembled the Galu of the Jungles of Yug but these beings did not possess the overwhelming urge to kill that drove the ape-men of that land. They lived in caves and crude rock structures and survived on whatever they could find but mostly they raided the nests of Screechers, large reptilian flyers that lived in the mountains nearby, these flying creatures were deadly but over the cycles the Broga had learned how to hide themselves from them and snatch an egg from their nests, they never took more than one from any nest and in that way the Screechers could still have several eggs to hatch and thus assure more food for Broga. When a Nomad tribe entered their land, they would leave a few dead Rimars as an offering and that seemed to placate the Broga and they would allow the Nomads to cross their land in peace. The Broga were no match for the Nomads and leaving an offering was not something they needed to do but words from the Book of Isarie guided them.

  Although you are my chosen people.

  Care for those who are not.

  For in that mercy you shall know me better.

  Now as the tribe entered the main cluster of the Broga’s rock homes they waited for the small creatures to emerge from their hiding places but it was not to be. There were signs of recent cooking for there were small Eul fires and some remnants of recently eaten beasts, but as the King looked closer he could see that these were not the bones of Rimar or Doff-birds or even Burrow-babies, these were human.

  “HAULT!”Arn called out lifting his hand, and obeying the wagons of the Almadra came to a stop, it took a little time for the dust of their Karracks wheels to disperse but when all was quiet everyone could see that the caves of the Broga were empty, or where they?

  Slowly creatures began to emerge from the dark portals, and as they did the King could see that they were indeed the Broga, but not the harmless little men that he knew so well, these creatures were not wearing their usual animal skins and holding crude weapons, they were dressed in hardened steel with thick helmets on their misshapen skulls, in their hands they carried well-made spears and swords, these were warriors.

  Beside him Andra could also feel that something was wrong, her mind-link with her mate had given her an added sense and she knew never to disregard it, she gripped her weapon and turned to look at Arn, “Is there danger?” she asked in a whisper. And in return the King nodded his head, “Much” he replied.

  The Kings instincts told him to be wary and so he lifted his war ax as a signal to the warriors to make ready for battle and this proved to be a wise move for no sooner did the fighters close their ranks the Broga attacked. They came in a great wave caring little for their own safety, they screamed at the top of their lungs and their shouts of anger filled the air with a terrible din, and in turn the Almadra warriors dug their spurs in and filled the sky with their own battle cries.

  Arn and Andra were the first into battle, they swung their war axes in wide arks and when they came into contact with flesh they cut through it as easily as a warm knife in Kasha bread. At the same time, their Whiptails kicked forward with their hind legs using their long spurs like reaping blades cutting the small creatures in two, but still the Broga advanced screaming like blood mad demons.

  Back at the wagon of Osh and Alune things were also heating up, as the little men rushed for them Osh tried to reach under his seat to take out the Chamber-rifle that he kept there but his damaged hand prevented him from reaching the weapon and defending himself. Alune put herself between the advancing little warriors and her companion and lifted her robe to take out a long dagger and as the first of the Borga leaped for them she drove her weapon into the neck of the little man and killed him instantly, then she turned to her companion, “under the Karrack!” she shouted, and dragging the old man by his robe they both leaped from their seats and huddled under the massive wooden vehicle.

  Kalgar-Rune was in his element, he smiled and laughed as his Tooth cut through armor and flesh, his Whiptail swung its spiked tail from side to side flinging screaming Broga into the air like leaves in a windstorm. He and his Thungodra circled the Holy Wagon and killed all who came close, they had taken an oath to guard the Holy Mother and they would die before breaking that pledge.

  Egmar watched the attack from the high level of the Holy Wagon, surrounded by her Handmaidens and together they said a prayer to the Goddess.

  “Protect us from harm.

  Keep us in your arms.

  Show us your mercy.

  We are your children.”

  They continued this prayer over and over again and hoped that Isarie would hear them. The Holy Mother also prayed but she knew for certain that the Goddess did hear her children, but being one of children she could not know what filled the mind of her God.

  Kuno the Captain of the Spikbacks was a tried and true warrior and knew that there was no time to load and fire the Long-range guns or fire up the Distruptors so he ordered that his men draw themselves into a
defensive ring around the Grana wagons and keep the precious green mineral safe.

  “Let no harm come to the gift from the Goddess or you will answer to me!” he shouted, and everyone knew that he meant what he said.

  Now the killing madness fell on the mind of Arn and Andra, they leaped from their Whiptails and fought on foot side by side, wave after wave of Broga advanced on them screaming in anger and when one of them was cut down by the swinging weapons another took its place. But the two Outlander had long ago been given the title the Twin-Dragons and now they would prove that name was not just an empty one, with their mind-link they could fight as one, both knowing when and where to strike, and soon the bodies of the slain were pile around them like so much Kasha wheat and the ground everywhere turned red with blood.

  All along the line of wagons the battle raged, but the Outlanders closed their ranks and fought like demons from the Pit, the warriors never gave an inch and those few that managed to penetrate into the center where the Elders and other members of the tribe stood were stopped by Nomads on their feet who were well trained in fighting.

  Kalgar-Rune also felt the killing madness it was a part of all Nomads, something that was born into them, the urge to fight, to kill and never give up, it was that ability to forget all other things, self-preservation, morality, mercy that made them the most formidable warriors in the Outer Rim. The Thungodra leader stood beside the Holy Wagon dealing out death to anyone who came near, and all the while his heart sang a battle song and his face showed a smile.

  Then as quickly as the attack began the Broga ran away, it was if some signal horn had been blown but the Borga had no such device, yet they turned and ran in unison leaving behind their dead and dying, the Nomads did not follow them into their caves and hiding places for they knew that they had won the day and revenge was not part of their thinking.

  Arn and Moonbud stood side by side sucking in great lungsful of air and shaking the blood from their eyes, the killing-madness was vanishing and they felt the return of sanity to their minds.

  “Are you injured?” the King asked between gasps of air. Andra shook her head (no) and steadied herself with her Tooth. Arn could see that few of the Karrack had been damaged and there’re appeared to be few loss of life to the Outlanders, then looking down he saw that one of the Broga at his feet was not dead but he was gravely wounded and would not last long, he bent down and looked the little man in the eyes, “Eto carnas morca tomay” he said in the old language, “why attack us? We meant no harm”. The wounded creature ground his jagged teeth then opened his bloody mouth to speak, “Narga ne Garna” he grunted, then with a look of terror in his eyes he died.

  Andra had learned much of the old language over the Frozen Time but she couldn’t make out what the dying creature had uttered, “What did he say?” she asked.

  Arn rose to his feet, “obey or die.”