Nomads The Risen God

by Gary Mark Lee

The Tribe of Many had spent a restless night for there were strange winds that blew and carried a scent of decay rather than the sweet smell of growing Kasha wheat and Moonbuds The wheat would bring life for it was the main staple of the Nomads and used for making bread but the Gods in their wisdom also made Moonbuds, the flower that kills, and all knew the old saying.

  “Flower of night, petals of white.

  Jewel of beauty under the moon lit sky.

  Touch not the stem or you shall die.”

  Wise words to any ear, and a well-chosen name for the mate of their former King. Now they were a tribe of their own and they followed a blind man and a cast out Handmaiden.

  Anais sat near their Washa warming himself and quietly waited for his morning meal, the wind still blew but it was gentle now and the foul odor had diminished, “Am I to be fed or shall I die of starvation?” his words were meant to be angry but Kela knew that he was a thorny riser in the morning.

  “You have too much fat on your ribs to starve” the Handmaiden replied as she drew out to chucks of meat and tossed them to their hungry Drogs. “You feed them too much” Anais called out shaking his head, “Drogs are hunters and need to find their own food”, she is a true follower of the Goddess, she cares for all living things.

  Kela shook her head and patted their guardians on their massive skulls, “Do not listen to him” she said smiling, “You will never go hungry as long as I am here” and bending down she gave them each a kiss on the head, something that would have brought screams from the Elders of the tribe. Wiping her hands, she picked up a bowl from a small table by their wagon and ladled it full of warm Hagar soup then handed it to her mate, “eat it slowly or it might break on that hard tongue of yours”. A man is like a Trofar, you must be firm with them when needed.

  Anais took the bowl and put a warm spoonful into his mouth then smiled, “My tongue is content for you are the best….” His words trailed off and he lowered his bowl, “Our guest is awake”.

  Kela quickly moved to their wagon and lifting the flap she saw dark eyes looking at her, “Can you speak?” she asked, for a moment the man said nothing, “Can you understand my words?”

  The man blinked twice then spoke, “Yes” he said softly.

  “You are injured but you will survive”, Kela put out her hand to touch his face but the man drew back as if from fire and seeing his reaction the Handmaiden pulled her hand away, “Are you hungry Romar?”

  “How do you know my name?” the man asked.

  “You spoke and said you lost something, what have you lost?”

  The Captain shook his head, “Everything”.

  The winds did not hinder the rest of the Sandjars for they were used to harsh environments and foul smells but there was one among them who did not rest well for his mind was filled with dreams of power. Endo did not sleep beside his mate but rather made his bed next to the supply wagon that carried the weapons of the Off-Worlders, and all through the long night he thought he heard footsteps coming to take the spoils away from him and if he did close his eyes his mind filled with strange images of fire and death and a voice calling to him, what the voice said or why he did not know? Now he stood looking into the Karrack, staring at the small blinking lights to absorb in thought, to hear the approaching feet.

  “Are you well?” a voice asked. Endo spun around holding a sharpened length of steel in his hands and would have attacked if it had been any face other than his mate. Seeing that it was Rawna he lowered the weapon. “Yes, I am well” he said nodding his large head.

  The young Sandjar female looked frighten for she had never seen such a look in the eyes of her mate but that look quickly vanished and she came close and put her arms around him, “I was cold last night and you were not there to warm me”.

  “Forgive me” her mate replied, “My mind was far away but it has returned now” and he lifted her up and held her close, it was not something that a Sandjar would do for they treated their woman harshly but Endo was raised by Nomads and followed their traditions rather than his own kind, putting her down he pointed to the wagons contents, See what I have found” he said smiling. Rawna tilted her head to look into the wagon hoping to find fresh Rimar meat or a basket of ripe Balbar fruit but all she saw where metal shafts of no use, “Are we to trade these for something of value?” she asked.

  Rawna had been born and raised in the dark Eul mines of the Norgonie and knew nothing of advanced weaponry or blaster rifles, but she did know pain and suffering far greater than most and although many scholars of the Outer Rim would have argued that Sandjars were too primitive a species to have real feelings her heart was kind and loving. Endo was also a Sandjar but he had fought in Outland wars and understood what power meant and what happens to those that did not possess it.

  “These are not for trading” he said pulling the covering back over the wagon, “we were once slaves and I took a vow that would never happen again”, I will keep that vow or die.

  “We cannot eat them and we will not trade them, they are useless” she replied.

  Seeing that a long explanation of weapons and war would have little success Endo decided to end the conversation, “You must trust me, do you trust me?”

  Rawna smiled and held him close once more, “Yes, I trust you, you are my Coraw”, you are more than my leader you are my world.

  And making sure that the wagon was secured Endo and Rawna sat down and enjoyed a morning meal of fresh ground worms and warm Burrow baby.

  Jumo and Delgar were very uneasy as they sat near their owners and carefully watched the man who was neither Nomad or Sandjar, and if it wasn’t for the presence of their masters they would have fallen on the intruder and torn him to pieces, but they were well trained and the man was left untouched but still they growled and bore their fangs in displeasure.

  Anais could not see the man but he reached out with his mind and tried to find understanding, “You say your name is Romar, where do you come from?”

  But the man only sat leaning against a water cast near the Washa and said nothing, it was easy to see that he was weak and in need of care but he held his head high. His leg and arm were bandaged and there was dried blood from small wounds on his face, his eyes were dark and they kept a close watch on the two huge beasts that crouched ready to spring at any time.

  Kela poured some warm soup into a bowl and held it out to the man she had tended, “Eat” she said, but the man did not reply so she spoke again, “It is Hagar soup with Ulon spice and a portion of Grana, it will make you strong”, but again the man said nothing so the Handmaiden put the bowl near him so that the fragrance could reach his nose, then she turned to her mate, “Perhaps he has gone deaf or maybe weak in mind and can no longer speak”.

  “Perhaps so” replied the Blind-prince, “Half-Souls are not the chosen and therefore weak”.

  This statement seemed to trigger something in the man, “I’m not weak!” he said.

  Hearing words from the man brought a smile to Kela, “I was mistaken he can speak, well know that you have found your tongue can you tell us who you are?”

  “I am Captain Romar-Anoon, coded number seven nine one of the combined forces of the Mac-Mar Alliance and that is all I’m required to tell you”.

  Neither Kela or Anais had heard of the Mac-Mar Alliance and found it strange that a man would have numbers after his name rather than his tribe but they understood that he had recently been injured and that might have accounted for his strange words.

  “You are an Off-Worlder” Kela said, “All who were with you are dead, but you may travel with us if you wish”. Romar tilted his head “You aren’t going to kill me?”

  “Of course not” the Handmaiden smiled, “On our world we have a law saying that what you bring from the Outlands is yours, we found you and brought you here, you now belong to us and we must care for you, it is our way”.

  The Captain had never heard such nonsense in his entire life but he knew he was too weak to escape, at least for now, “Very
well” he said, “I will be your prisoner”.

  Once again the Nomads looked at each other confused, “we do not take prisoners, and you are free to leave when you like” Anais said.

  This enemy is strange Romar thought, they show weakness, that I can use.

  Kela drew near the man and picked up the bowl of soup, “you will need your strength to leave us and this will make you strong” and she held out the fragrant concoction to their uneasy guest.

  At first the man turned his head away but after a moment or two the smell of hot soup overcame all objections and taking it he began to eat, as she watched the man put spoonful’s after spoonful’s into his mouth the Handmaiden remembered a saying that her mother often said,

  “First you win a man stomach then you win his heart” and seeing how the man consumed her food she knew that her mother was a very wise woman indeed.

  The twin suns were going down as General Ivar stood beside a large fragment of fallen rock and watched as a dozen of his best men enter the stone city, they had supplies and weapons of sorts for the Blasters they would have carried were un-useable and had been replaced by simple projectile arms, lethal at close range bur far from the stopping power of a fully charged force beam. Adding to their strength were explosive hand detonators using chemical rather than electronic integrators, voice-tec and scanners were useless but Ivar knew that Grevas would not return without the needed materials. The Commander placed his hand on the hard stone next to him, it was warm to the touch but soon it would be night and the stone would not keep its heat, Ivar could see strange markings on the surface and although he had obtained a goodly amount of knowledge in Outer-Rim languages this inscription was unknown to him and that was a sad thing for if he had understood what the lettering said he might have thought twice about sending men into the crumbled city for they read.

  Del-Godar a place of death.

  Travel on and take no rest.

  Demons live within its walls.

  Evil stalks its darken halls.

  Chapter 17.

  The Voice of the Sea.