Chapter 12.
Call of Duty.
In any conflict, it is imperative that you win, it is the first rule of warfare and your duty as a soldier in that arena, to win you must stay alive, death is for those weaklings who no longer wish to fight.
From the observations of Ivar-Anoon, first General of the combined forces of the Mac-Mar Alliance.
The Youngarie have a high tolerance to pain, it was one of the factors that make them ideal for soldiers but Ivar-Anoon still grimaced as consciousness began to fill his mind, at first, he saw only darkness then as he cleared his eyes of blood he looked around at what remained of his smoked filled command bridge.
“Report!” he called out in his usual commanding voice but there was no reply for those that were not dead were too badly injured to respond, “Report!” he said again all the while punching his thick finger on the communicator button on his command chair, but he got no response. He rose up on shaky legs and began to move about the rubble of the chamber all the while hacking and coughing from the arid smoke filling his lungs. His movements were halting and he stumbled over a body lying on the floor, looking down he saw what remained of the face of Haus Rocon but the General had seen far worse in his time and paid it little heed and moving on he found the ships navigator badly wounded but still alive.
“Report!” he shouted and he shook the man by his bloody arm, “Report now!”
Slowly opening his eyes the well trained navigator began to speak, “Hit by a level five EMI, damage to guidance, no control, landing close to primary, power is…..” his voice trailed off as he slipped into unconsciousness. “Report, report!” Ivar screamed but no amount of shaking could bring what he wanted and moving on he went to the bridge access and picking up a shard of metal he began to pry open the heavy metal doors, as he did he heard a voice calling out from the other side.
“Is anyone alive?” the voice asked.
“Here” the General replied then stood back as sounds of men working at the entrance filled the air, a shower of sparks and a grinding of metal and the door opened, several men quickly moved inside carrying weapons and other items of survival gear.
“Are you injured General?” one of the officers asked as he snapped to attention.
“What is our damage?” the General asked ignoring his wounds. “Damage on all levels, heavy casualties and many badly wounded but we are stabilizing”. Ivar wiped more blood from his eyes, “Begin repairs, all able bodied men are to report to their commanders, I want a full list of damage and field strength in one hour”. “And the wounded?” the officer asked.
The General stood up as straight as he could and looked the man in his eyes, “Expendable” he said coldly.
“Yes sir” the officer replied and went off to do as he was ordered.
Ivar sat down on the broken bulkhead and said nothing as a healer began to treat his wounds, to win at all costs he thought, that is the first rule of combat.
Far from Del-Godar and the damaged forces of the Alliance, in a place near the Eye of Isarie the Tribe of Many were rising up to meet the new day. They also had seen the lights in the night sky and experienced the immobility of their brethren but unlike the Almadra there were none that were not affected so there was nothing to be concerned about, but it was not so with the Sandjars for they were not Outlanders, they were of a different breed and although they had many of the same attributes of a human they were not. Instead they talked about the falling star that had crashed to the ground very near to their camp which was away from the fires of the Nomads and being creatures that preferred the dim light rather than the bright day they wanted to rush out into the darkness and take whatever spoils they could before some other Sandjars filled their wagons before they did. But the night also held many dangers and although they were fierce creatures when need be, they were not warriors so wiser minds prevailed and they waited for the early light of day and now that Sunbirth had come they were preparing to investigate the gift from the sky.
The morning sky could not be seen for a strange mist hung over the land of Darmock but unlike the low fog that sometimes comes with the changing of the seasons this one was thick and smelled of un-natural things. And in that vapor, there could be heard the cries of Thundra beasts great and small, even the wild roars of Sagar cats who did not frequent the land around the Eye of Isarie carried through the haze and all that heard them could not help being frightened. Many of the Elders said that it was a warning from the Goddess to keep by their fires and pray, other said that it was just a land-shadow and would vanish as the twin suns climbed higher, but the warriors still held tightly to their weapons and kept a watchful eye.
The Sandjars were creatures of the Outlands and understood the dangers waiting there so they covered their scaly bodies with thick Rimar hide armor and carried weapons made of steel, these were not the superior made war axes of the Nomads, these were crudely fashioned clubs and spears that suited their needs much better, but even without weapons they were a deadly breed for their strong fingers had sharp claws and their teeth could bite through the toughest flesh.
“It is a Dropship filled with treasure” Endo said as he and several of his Sandjars prepared a cart and Trofar, “In it we shall find many wonderful things”.
“Do not go, the air carries danger” his mate replied for Rawna felt that something was wrong and wanted her life companion to stay in the safety of the camp and not risk his being for trinkets.
“You are a trouble vessel that walks” Endo laughed, “Am I not the Coraw and a leader of our people?”
“You are my mate and that is all my heart knows”, the Sandjar female replied.
There is none who cares more Endo thought, “There are many with me and the tribe is strong”.
“Strength alone is a poor weapon” Rawna said clutching her mate’s clawed hand.
But the Sandjar leader only laughed, “Now you are sounding like an Elder” and hugging her one last time he turned to the others of his kind, “Follow me” he said and being their Coraw the other Sandjars began to move with their leader.
Rawna watched him go and as he disappeared into the mist she felt a cold hand grip her heart.
The Outlanders in the tribe had also seen the ship crash and wanted to see what the sky Goddess had given them but being Nomads they would go prepared for battle, each warrior was dressed in strong armor and mounted on an eager Whiptail, they held sharpened axes in their toughened hands and at the lead was their “Coraw” but unlike the Scavengers this one was blind and carried no weapon.
Anais sat waiting on the wooden seat of their Karrack as Kela his mate tossed large juicy cuts of Rimar meat to their two hungry Drogs. “Do not feed them more than they need” the blind Prince said angrily, “They eat too much already”. But the scarred Handmaiden only laughed, “Better to fill their bellies or become their meal”. And tossing one last offering to their four legged guardians Kela patted them on their massive heads, “Now that you have eaten you can earn you keep”, and wiping her hands on her traveling robe she climbed into the seat beside her mate and took up the reins, “Now my wise leader what is the way you wish to go?”
To some this would have seemed a joke for Anais was indeed blind but the thick air made the other Nomads his equal and they also knew that although the Gods had taken away his site they had given him the gift of knowing what they could not, add that to the uncanny ability to know where you were at all times and a wise man would follow him. Anais lifted his head and pointed with his hand, “That way”. Snapping the guiding reins hard Kela shouted to the warriors and Sandjars surrounding them, “Forward!” she called out loudly and as they had done in the past the Tribe of Many followed their wise leader.
But as her mate moved away Rawna felt that something was different, something that her simple mind could not comprehend, what it was she did not know but deep in her heart she knew that their time together would be different now.
It was some time later when the Nomads and
Scavengers drew near the Eye of Isarie, to the Outlanders this was a sacred place, a place that was ancient and proud, a place that was to be feared and desired at the same time. The great circle of stone columns was still mostly undamaged save for one of the towers that had fallen in the Landquake at the last great gathering of the tribes. Here stood the ancient Talk-stone, the carved alter where all Nomads could speak their mind without fear of reprisal, it was also the place where the Holy Mother could converse with the Gods and know their will.
As the column of Nomads and Sandjar’s moved through the heavy air they could just make out that this was not a Dropship carrying outcasts or unwanted cargo to their world, they had seen others like this one but those were rusting hulks from the Before-time that many called “The Toys of Isarie”, ancient war machines used in the great battle of the Gods.
Now and then a distant planet would rid themselves of outdated weapons of war or as a dumping ground for victorious armies to strip their enemies of power, but those ships were not like this one, they were stripped of useful machinery before they were brought here, this one appeared to be whole but what caught the attention of the travelers was the unmistakable smell of death. It hung in the air like the perfumed veil of a Sincraver, a strong pungent odor of raw meat and bone and that aroma the Sandjars knew well. As Endo caught the first wave of ravaged flesh his instincts as a Sandjar began to take control of his mind, a strong feeling of need raced to the top of his emotions, the need to feed, the need to rip and tear and kill, it was the way their people survived in the harsh Outlands and it did not matter that they were now members of a tribe that forbad the eating of humans. No! He told his mind, you are not a mindless Scavenger anymore, you are not that creature but again he wanted to race to the wreckage and take what he wanted, and looking about him he saw that his people were also obsessed by the very same desire, they began to hoot and bark and beat their weapons on the ground and Endo knew that if he did not stop them they would rush headlong and fill their bellies with forbidden food.
“STOP!” he called out, “We are not Scavengers anymore, we are more than that, we cannot let our past guide our future, I am your Coraw and I say hold your ground!”
Anais and Kela also inhaled the wind of death as did the two Drogs but Jumo and Dalgar were well trained and would not leave the side of their masters unless commanded, now they growled and barked as they observed Endo fight to control his people, the blind Prince and the Handmaiden watched as the Nomads lifted their weapons in case the Sandjars forgot their pack and fell upon them as other of their kind had done in the past.
One of the Sandjar came forward and let out a loud cry in the face of their Coraw, he beat his chest and weapon on the ground and threw dirt and rock into the air.
A challenge Endo thought, a challenge must be answered, and taking his weapon, he leaped high in the air, screamed loudly and bore his sharp teeth to his opponent.
The two combatants stood there for a time growling and hissing then the one who had tested his leader backed down and moved away leaving Endo as their Coraw and the one who they would obey. And turning to Anais and Kela Endo nodded his head and they understood that they could continue forward.
It was a short time later that they arrived at the fallen ship, all about were broken bits of metal mixed with what remained of its crew and swarms of Dot-flies, some bodies were intact but others had been torn apart by the impact and still more had their remains desecrated by creatures of the night and Sundroppers who followed the scent of raw meat. The flying reptiles took to the air and disappeared into the mist as the Nomads drew near making screeching cries and snapping their blooded jaws in defiance. The sound of snorting Whiptails also forced a large Sagar cat from his hiding place and rather than face a force of well-armed Nomads the great feline escaped into the mist carrying a severed arm in its massive jaws.
Anais did not have to see to know that they had entered a place where the Angel of Death had recently visited and although he was no stranger to death having given orders to kill his own people when he was briefly King of the Almadra his newly found conscious brought pain to his heart. “Look for survivors” he said to Kela as he began climbing down from their Karrack, Jumo and Delgar stood beside their master and made sure that no harm would come to him as he began moving among the dead, and it was a good thing that the Drogs bellies were full for there were many bodies to feast on.
Although Kela was a Handmaiden and took an oath to care for all living things she was also a practical woman and understood that death did not separate those that were faithful from those that sinned so she carried a long dagger in her wide belt, but never the less seeing the carnage surrounding her she whispered a short prayer to Isarie. Anais carried nothing and put his trust in their Drogs and their senses.
A war ship he thought, the Half-souls have sent an army to our world, this troubled him greatly for he knew as did all Nomads that Isarie would protect them from outsiders and render their weapons of war useless, but now here was evidence that something was different, their shield was cracking, the Goddess was weakening, and what would happen if she turned away from them? “We should go” he said turning to his mate, “There is only death here”.
“We cannot go until we are certain that all are dead” she replied.
Those that did not know the Nomads would have found those words strange for an Outlander would have no doubts about killing an intruder into their lands, but they also lived by the words written in the Book of Isarie.
Do not turn away from those in need.
There is no glory in killing a weak enemy.
Anais knew that Kela was right and if death had overlooked someone it was their duty to find them and do what they could to save their life and being a wise person, the Prince knew that they might obtain information on why they had come to their world and if there would be others falling from the sky. “Very well” Anais said, “continue the search but do it quickly when the mist clears there will be others eager to take what they want”.
Taking what they wanted was something that Sandjars understood very well, and being ex-slaves of the Norgonie had little effect on the instincts of the Scavengers, now as they moved further into the broken hull of the warship they began gathering up items that they found useful. They took small bits of metal, scraps of clothing, wire, colorful fragments of plasta-cast, anything that caught their eye or something that they could trade at a later date. Endo did not bother with such trifles and he was somewhat embarrassed by the childish attitude of his brethren and turning from them he moved down a corridor and into a section of the ship through a heavy door that had broken from its hinges, inside it was dark with only a narrow shaft of dim light coming from a crack overhead.
Remember they do not have your learning he told his mind, and for a moment he thought back on his youthful days and the time he had spent with Osh his father, how he had learned to read and write, to know his past and how to prepare for his future, how they had fought side by side in the war with the Talsonar, then something caught his eye in the shallow light, something that would change his fate and the fate of his people. There lying on the buckled floor was a weapon, but this was not an ax or spear, it was a weapon made by those who understood the efficiency of killing. Picking it up slowly he ran his clawed hands over the smooth metal surface then lifted it to his shoulder and looked down the straight barrel. Chamber rifle he thought, he was half right, it was a rifle of sorts but this one did not fire crude metal pellets like the arms taken from the Pyramid people, this one could send out a beam of energy that would slice through flesh like a hot knife through Bark-bee wax. Looking about and seeing that his people were occupied in their own hunt for treasure Endo put the weapon to his shoulder and aiming at a torn bulkhead he slowly pulled the trigger.
There was nothing.
Disappointed he lowered the rifle and was about to toss it away when he saw a faint glow from a small readout screen on the weapons stock, he had little knowledge of off-w
orld languages but could see that there was a graft of sorts and an indicator that flashed red so he slung the blaster over his shoulder and was about to leave the room when he noticed a fallen section of ceiling covering an overturned storage rack, grabbing the metallic paneling he lifted with all his might, straining to his limit he moved the rubble to one side and saw what it had been covering. There on the cluttered grating were several dozen more weapons like the one he carried and looking at the rifles a sudden thought came into his mind. Power!
The Nomads also found weapons in the hands of dead soldiers but they did not gather them up, to them killing an enemy from a distance was a cowardly thing to do and brought no glory to one who did so, they preferred hand to hand combat testing their strength and skill and letting the Gods decide who would be victorious. So, tossing the blasters aside they searched for signs of life as they were commanded to do but they found only the dead or dying and rather than see them suffer they drew one of the ivory-handled daggers at their belts and ended the anguish of passing from this life to the next.
It was the same with Anais and Kela, they looked as best they could and now and then one of the Drogs would bark loudly but no sign of the living were found.
Outlanders were people of earth and sky and being inside made them very uneasy, it was true that they slept in tents and sometimes took to caves for protection but there was always an easy way out, being inside an alien ship with heavy metal doors and no access to the open air was frightening so it was no easy thing for Anais and Kela to move about in the strange vessel.
“This is a place filled only with death” the Handmaiden said, “We will find no life here”.
“Perhaps you are right” Anais replied.
The two Nomads were about to leave when Jumo growled at something that caught her ear and taking a few steps forward she bore her large teeth and snapped her jaws, a few moments later Delgar did the same. “They have found something” the Handmaiden said.
The direction that the two Drogs faced was down a darkened corridor, there was debris on the floor but not enough to hamper access, but it was rather narrow and what lay at the end was unknown, the two Nomads waited for any sign of life emanating from the darkness but no sound could be heard. “There is nothing” the Blind-prince said, “It was a Rockrunner or a Burrow-baby, let us go”. And once more they were about to leave when a faint metallic tapping caught their ears. “Rockrunners do not have metal feet” Kela said, and with their two Drogs leading the way the Nomads slowly made their way down the hallway.
As they entered the fallen craft further Kela felt her world was closing in on her, the air seemed to grow heavy and no matter how hard she filled her lungs it seemed that she needed more, it was not the same with Anais for his mind was focused on what might lay ahead, in the past he had known things that were to happen but that power seemed to be hiding from him, but power or not he would stay with his mate and share whatever fate lay ahead.
There were several twists and turns as the pair moved forward and more than once the Drogs came upon a dead invader but the faint tapping called them forward, then they came to a massive door that was torn open just wide enough for a person to enter, but the gap would not let the thick bodies of Jumo and Delgar pass. There was a moment of doubt when Kela felt that the walls were about to close in about her and that she would spend the rest of her life in a darkened cage but then the faint tapping was heard again. I was once a Handmaiden of the Goddess she thought; I took a vow to help all those in need. And gathering up her courage she slipped between the door crack and entered the room beyond, Anais waited for a moment then he also forced his body through the narrow opening leaving their two four-legged guardians to roar in frustration.
The chamber on the other side was filled with instrumentation and chairs holding dead men, to any soldier of the Outer Rim it was easy to see that this was the command center of the warship, but to a Nomad it was just a room filled with useless machinery. Looking around Kela could see that there had been a fire for the walls were blackened and many of the bodies were heavily burned, at the center of the room there was a large metal chair and sitting in that chair was a man that the fire had not consumed. Moving closer Kela saw that one arm of the human was hanging limply but still clutching a hand weapon of some kind, looking closer she saw the arm move slightly causing the short barrel of the weapon to strike one of the support beams on the chair, as she came even closer she saw the eyes of the man open suddenly and looking at her he slowly raised the gun to his head, Kela could see that the man was summoning up all his remaining will for his mouth grimiest and blood began to ooze from his lips but half way through the motion the last of his strength left him and the weapon fell to the floor.
Anais heard the sound of metal on metal and moved to the side of his mate and reaching out he touched the injured man’s body, “Is there life?” he asked. “Yes, but he will need much care”.
Together the Nomads loosened the straps that held the man and each taking one of his arms they began to carry him to safety, the man opened his eyes once more and seeing that he was awake Kela spoke to him. “Who are you, what is your name?”
The man’s voice was low and without emotion, “My name is Romar, I have lost”.
All people hear a voice in their heads, it calls to them and they must listen, that voice can speak to them of power and strength, or it can tell them of mercy and forgiveness, wisdom or folly, love or hate, the past and the present, good and evil, that voice has many names, the voice of the stars, words of the Gods, even Demons from the Pit, still others think that it is past lives calling to us over the ages and guiding us to a future filled with sunlight and joy, and there are some who believe that it is a Call of Duty and they must obey, but whatever that voice is good or evil it is up to the individual to decide if they will listen.
Nomads The Risen God Page 16
