Nomads The Risen God

by Gary Mark Lee

The storm weakened and although there was still wind and rumblings the creatures of Gorn could once again move upon the land, the small Rockrunners and Burrow babies emerged from their hiding places and began their endless hunt for scraps of food. Tall Doffbirds shook the remaining raindrops from their magnificent plumage and stretched their flightless wings warming themselves with the rising suns, the wild Rimar and savage Whiptails of the Sirolian Plains eyed each other carefully knowing that they would soon begin their never ending battle of hunter and prey. Shellbacks poked their scaly heads out of their armored homes but the twin suns would have to be high in the sky before they were warm enough to begin feeding on fresh blades of field grass. And like all the other creatures that inhabited the planet humans great and small rose up and looked about them, some thanked the Gods for sparing them from death while others prided themselves for eluding the fate of the dead around them.

  “How many are fit for duty?” Ivar Anoon asked of the captain standing before him.

  It was difficult for the young officer to read the report in his hands for his left eye was covered by a wound dressing, “One hundred and twenty-four are well, thirty nine are dead, twenty three wounded and four who are not expected to survive”.

  It did not take long for the Commander to reply, “Assemble the remaining troopers, bury the dead, treat the wounded and terminate the rest, dismissed”.

  The injured soldier saluted and left to carry out the orders of his superior leaving the General alone in the make-shift tent that had been erected when the storm permitted, Ivar had spent the night in his wrecked warship along with what remained of his command, most of them had survived but being so near the haunted city of Del-Godar was dangerous and in the darkness a large section of the stone metropolis tumbled to the ground smashing into the side of the troop carrier killing many of the men.

  Ivar sat there for a time looking over the report scattered about the small table, they were the regular charts of energy consumption, tactical information and all the other military bits and pieces that went into an invasion, but deep inside the General knew that so far his conquest of Gorn had been a failure. A crashed warship, troopers dead, supplies ruined, communications sporadic and an alliance with a power that he knew very little about.

  Winning he thought, winning is everything, I will be victorious or there will be nothing left of this miserable little planet. He was thinking of the special orbiting platforms equipped with Grinders, the planet killers the tore up the earth destroying everything on the surface leaving the ground upside down. It was a weapon that was banned by treaties with all the civilized worlds of the Outer Rim but that meant little to Ivar for he was a warrior and all warriors know that when defeat is emanate you will use whatever you can to destroy the enemy. Win or die, and with those words echoing in his head he stood up and left the bivouac.

  Outside the wind was brisk and bits of sand and rock still pelted the Generals stern face causing him to turn up the collar on his survival jacket and adjust his steel helmet, he began walking towards the entrance to the crumbling city followed by a dozen armed guards that were stationed outside his quarters. Along the way he passed by several infected dead soldiers who were being lowered into newly dug graves, he did not stop to say any words or offer praises on behalf of the Alliance for he knew that the dead are dead and they could no longer hear.

  The ruined city of Del-Godar could hardly be damaged further but the raging storm had torn off several of the upper levels of the stone and steel city and sand had removed even more of the outer layering’s exposing the metal inner structure like some long dead giants bones. The small entrance at the bottom level had been covered by sand but following the orders of the General a squadron of men had removed enough of the choking silt to reveal the portal.

  Ivar waited outside the opening with his men at the ready, it was a galling situation for him for he always made others wait and now it was him on the other side of power but he did not let his anger show on his grim face. Winning is everything, and I will win in the end.

  A short time went by and then a shimmering figure emerged from the portal, he was alone and moved quietly over the sand and rock and stood before the Commander, “The storm has passed and I am here as I promised” Servant showed no sign of discomfort despite the wind pelting his unmoving face.

  “Yes” replied Anoon, “Now I wish to bring down my men and supplies as we agreed”, the word “wish” was hard for the General to say for wishing was a word that children used and was not in Ivar’s vocabulary but if that term help bring him victory he would say it never the less.

  “The electromagnetic pulses that prevented communications and your ships from landing have ceased for now” Servant said coldly, “You will have sufficient time to dispatch men and equipment to the surface but for how long I cannot say.”

  A slight smiled pulled at the corners of Ivar’s mouth, “Then I will order my men down and begin operations that will end in victory”.

  The Ergan-Mar’s face remained motionless, “The weapons of the Outlanders are no match for your advanced armaments but the inhabitance of this world have been bred for warfare and they will not die easily, you will need cunning and wisdom to overcome them, my master has both and will aid you in your quest”.

  He doesn’t know the full power of the Alliance Ivar thought, we have conquered worlds. “I am grateful for your help and rest assured you and your master will be well rewarded”.

  Tark shook his ungainly head, “There is nothing that you have that my master needs or requires, as I have already said the destruction of the enemy will be enough.”

  I’m no fool Ivar thought, no one needs nothing, I will conquer this world and his so called master, the General turned to an officer near him, “contact the fleet, begin operations”, and as the officer went to carry out the orders of his commander Ivar felt a great rush of excitement coursing through his body, a feeling that only a true warrior knows.

  Near the great domes of the Sea-people Kalgar-Rune was feeling something quite different, anger! “Find her!” he shouted above the strong currents of air, “send out warriors, search everywhere but find her!” Nearby the smoldering embers of the fire that consumed the evil one was being blown about in the wind, they rose up like tiny glowing Dot-flies swirling, spinning gracefully only to be snuffed out and disappear. The leader of the Thungodra had stood watch over the cleansing bonfire all night making sure that the demon would not rise from the pyre and continue her path of evil, now all that remained was a blackened husk of a body, “take what remains of the demon and toss it into the sea” pointing to the charred body with his ax.

  And doing as he ordered the holy warriors picked up the carcass and began carrying it to the water and although they were strong it took all the strength of the guardians to do the task for strangely the body had the weight of many men. Kalgar and a number of his warriors followed close behind holding their weapons ever ready to attack should the demon rise from the dead.

  Evil can never truly die; he knew that for certain for it was written in the Book of Isarie that sin is always among the Chosen and seeks only weakness to live.

  But this day the dead remained dead and marching to a secluded cove with a large outcropping of rock overlooking the water the Thungodra warriors summoned up all their remaining strength then lifted the blackened body over their heads and threw it into the crashing waves.

  Kalgar-Rune watched as the demon vanished from view then he stood tall upon the rock and called out so that all his warriors could hear. “Let this be a warning to those who would bring evil into our tribe!” he let his words hang in the air before he continued, “We will seek out those who are not of the Chosen, we will find the Holy Mother and bring her back to the safety of our care and we will kill all those who do not stand with us!”

  A mighty cheer rose up from the Thungodra and it remained in the air as they marched back to the great domes of the Akuna.

  Osh and Alune witnessed the body of Nian
a being disposed of but they dare not come out from their hiding place in the rock for it would have meant certain death for the Callaxion and perhaps the same for the Touchtender, then after a time the cheering ended and the old man and woman knew that it was safe to venture out. They stood their side by side looking out on the water hoping against hope that what they had witnessed the night before and now was just a dream, a dark nightmare that they would soon wake from, but the salt wind on their wrinkled faces and the pain in their hearts told them that it was all too true. Osh tried to focus his computer like brain on the information at hand and calculate their chances for survival based on proven facts pertinent to the situation that now surrounded them, we are two against the massed power of the Thungodra, we have no weapons, supplies or information that might apply aid to our situation, furthermore we cannot know if…?

  He tried to focus but it was useless for his mind was filled with the face of the poor girl whose body he had seen tossed into the sea like so much rotten fruit.

  Alune did not possess the incredible mind power of her companion but she had survived in a dangerous world for many cycles and understood the hazards they now faced, she could go back to her tribe and meet the same fate as they would and perhaps die or she could stay with the person that had stolen her heart but there was no assurance that the Angel of Death would not come for her just the same, in the end it was her heart that persuaded her.

  “We must reach our Karack” the Touchtender said, “There we will find supplies and weapons”.

  The idea of two lone unarmed and elderly humans overpowering the combined force of genetically altered warriors of the Thungodra seemed ludicrous to the Callaxion and he was about to explain the overwhelming odds against that plan of action but he did not want to bring further pain to the woman at his side so he simply nodded is large head in approval.

  Drawing hooded robes over their heads and trying their best to look unimportant they slowly made their way back along the sand and through the mass of abandoned tents and wagons, they counted the blooded bodies of old and young along the way, a grim reminder of the events of the night and seeing the slain brought tears to the eyes of the Touchtender but there was no time to pray over them for at any moment they might be discovered and that would mean their end. Once they saw several Thungodra walking towards them but thinking fast Alune drew the small knife she kept under her robe, cut her palm and smeared the blood over her face and Osh’s then pulling him to the ground they laid there like the dead as the Holy Warriors passed them by. Once they were out of sight the old man and woman rose up and continued their escape.

  “That was an excellent deception” Osh said as they hurried along.

  “It was an old trick to lure in prey” Alune replied, “Tebor-Con my third mate taught it to me”.

  “I am sure he must have loved you very much” the Callaxion said nodding his head.

  This made the Touchtender smile, “All my mates loved me and I loved them, I am a strong caring woman who knows the needs of my men”, and then she turned to look into the old man’s eyes, “As you should well know by now”.

  Osh wanted to stop and further question his companion on just how much she knew about the needs of men but they turned a corner that was familiar to both of them and found themselves at the spot where their Karack should have been.

  There was nothing left of their wagon, all that remained was a smoldering heap of chard wood and bits of broken glass, there was no sign of their Trofar or tent and everything of value had been destroyed or taken. But all that was of little matter for it was the contents of the carrier that were priceless, jars filled with the rarest of the rare, small creatures that could be found on no other planet of the Outer Rim, specimens that any scholar would have studied for a life time were now ruined, flasks containing samples of rock and minerals unknown to planet shapers smashed to fragments, but the greatest loss of all were the hundreds of Rimar hide scrolls recording information on the life and movements of the Nomads of Gorn.

  Osh stood there unable to speak or move, Gone, all gone he thought, who will know of my life now, who will understand what has happened here.

  Alune was no scholar and her knowledge was limited compared to the vast wisdom of the man beside her, she knew that the bits and pieces of her world that he had accumulated over the cycles meant a great deal to him but the time for comforting words would have to wait, at that moment they would need to think of their survival. “We must leave here” she said “collect what you can swiftly, the Thungodra may return at any moment”, and moving to the wreckage she began her search for anything of value.

  Sadly, there was not much to gather for the fire had ignited the Rimar hides and they burned with a fierce heat, all food stuffs were contaminated with embers leaving only one small sealed jar of Fish-sauce intact, still it was edible and Alune placed it in a pocket of her robe. The Touchtender also found an ax head fashioned from Itarian steel, its wooden handle was gone but the metal head was still sharp and knowing that it would make a good weapon Alune pick out the still warm cleaver and set it aside.

  Osh had no heart for searching and he could only stand and gaze at the residues of his shattered dreams, “I wanted to share my knowledge with the whole universe” he said sadly, “I wanted my name to be listed with all the great minds of the Callaxions, now that will never happen”.

  The Touchtender could see that her companion was being overwhelmed by regret so she took him by the shoulder and shook him hard, “You weep like a first cycle child!” her voice was stern, “We have no time for tears so put aside your grief over trinkets and save yourself for another day”.

  Osh heard the words of the old woman, she is correct, we must leave with what we can, “Yes, another day” he said and pulling himself up from despair he started to sift through the rubble, this continued for a time and he was about to give up the search when something caught his eye, a bit of shiny metal in the blackened wreckage then poking his slim nail less fingers into the warm cinders he pulled out a round object that had once saved his life and the lives of the Almadra. The key, the key to power! Indeed, it was the medallion that he had stolen from Vitranius, the so called holy man of the Norgonie but who was in fact a Callaxion like himself.

  Osh knew that the ornament was far more than just a fashioned bit of jewelry made by the skilled hands of a craftsman; this was constructed by a race far older than even the Nomads, this once belonged to the Overlords, the mysterious creators of the Outlanders and all the life forms on the planet. Cupping the trophy in his hands he saw that the medallion bore no marks of fire or any other damage and seeing that it was the only thing left of his treasures he hung the chain around his neck and hid the rest of it under his robe.

  Alune was too busy to notice what her companion had found and even if she had it would have seemed of little consequence to their survival, “time to go” the Touchtender said seeing that there was nothing more of value around her, “the Thungodra will concentrate their forces near the domes, we will travel in the opposite direction, we will go to Tambor we will go south.”

  Tambor?” the old man asked, “What lays in Tambor?”

  “Very little” Alune replied for she knew that few Nomads ventured to that desolate place but she also knew that it’s rocky terrain would make an excellent hiding place from the superstitious Thungodra for they believed it was a place that Isaire did not look upon.

  And so, they set out alone and on foot, they possessed no weapons or supplies for a journey and they had no place of safety to go but Alune trusted in the will of the Goddess and Osh trusted in the woman at his side.

  The Tribe of Many were fewer now, the storm had ended the lives of many of the Nomads and Scavengers and some had taken shelter at the Eye of Isarie hoping that the Goddess would protect them but that sacred shrine toppled to the ground and became a grave marker rather than the gathering place of the Outlanders. Many of the Sandjar were consumed by fear and they ran into the night screaming and w
ere never seen again, those that were left were shaken and huddled beside their overturned wagons too frightened to move.

  Endo and Rawna fared somewhat better, the wagon containing the stolen weapons of the Youngonrie was still upright perhaps do to the weight of the armaments inside, beside it the mated Sandjars shook the sand from their bodies, stood up and looked around.

  “Are you injured?” Endo asked softly as he ran his clawed hands over his mate.

  “I am not injured” Rawna replied shaking her body and cleaning her eyes by licking the backside of her hand and rubbing it over her face.

  “And the child?” Endo asked.

  The level of his voice was such that the female tilted her hairless head to one side, “It is well also, why do you ask such a question?”

  Rawna knew that male Sandjars were not concerned with the well-being of their offspring, if it lived or die mattered little to them for if it perished they could consume it as food and if it lived it would be taken care of by a Blood-mother by attaching itself to the back of another and sucking the needed fluids to keep it alive.

  Endo pulled the young female to him and held her tight, “I care for you and our child, and I make a promise that no harm shall come to you and the life inside you”.

  The word “Promise” was relatively new to the young Sandjar, having grown up in the underground mines of the Norgonie there was no president to believe in anyone but over the days and nights beside her mate Rawna had learned the understanding of that expression and now it filled her with hope. As they stood holding each other Endo suddenly heard a faint “beeping” sound, it would have gone unnoticed by a human but the hearing of a Scavenger is far more acute and taking his arms from around his mate he lifted up the cover on their carrier and looked inside, a thin layer of sand had found its way under the Rimar hide protection so he took his clawed hand and wiped some of it from the stolen weapons stored there, when he did he saw that several of the alien armaments were showing a faint glow from their small readout screens. Endo carefully lifted one of the rifles and held it in his hands were it continued to signal.

  Power he thought, I have power in my hands.

  On the other side of the damaged campsite Anais and Kela were giving thanks to Isarie for sparing their lives while Jumo and Dalgar shook their great bodies and licked their eyes with their longs sticky tongues, Romar eyed them carefully as he washed the dust and sand from his face. “Thank you oh Goddess for your mercy and allowing us to continue in your service”, the Nomads said lifting their arms to the wind swept sky, “You are the light that guides us and the path of truth”.

  Hearing the words from his keepers the young Captain had to laugh, “Do you really believe that some all-powerful deity guides your lives?” Romar splashed more water over his dry face from a clay bowl sitting on a makeshift table.

  Kela lowered her arms and adjusted her robe, “You do not believe?” she asked.

  The Captain patted his eyes with a dry rag, “Of course I believe, I believe in a strong hand that holds a powerful weapon”.

  Now it was Anais’s time to reply, “Yet it was this weak woman who bested you in combat” he said pointing to his mate, “It seems that your hand needs to be stronger”.

  Romar did not want to be reminded of his humiliating defeat at the hands of the Handmaiden and decided to change the subject so looking around at the devastation he spoke, “You have been hit hard, you should regroup and calculate your losses, concentrate your strengths and discard your weaknesses”.

  “We are not at war” Anais said as he brushed the sand from his robe.

  The Captain moved closer to the blind man causing the two Drogs to growl loudly, “We are always at war, life is a war against death”.

  “Yes” Anais said, “But in the end death always wins”.

  This made the young captain smile, “Very true, that is why we fight the harder”.

  Egmar had survived the storm as did her sister, they sat unmoving inside the abandoned fisherman’s hut as the torrential rain and gusting wind hammered down on them, they never spoke a word nor did they sleep they just sat staring at each other like images in a mirror and waited for the first rays of Sunbirth to filter through the gaping holes in the fragmented roof. The first to show any signs of life were the Sand-walkers that now poked their heads out of their hiding place and seeing that the twin suns were shining they hurried across the cluttered floor and vanished through a hole in the wall.

  The Holy Mother watched them go and nodded her head, “Isarie has a special place in her heart for the weak” she said softly.

 

 

 

  Chapter 25.

  Bloodfish.

  Bloodfish are the scavengers of the sea, they will eat anything that comes within reach of their powerful jaws, they have no apparatus for vision so they must hunt by their acute sense of smell and the slightest vibrations in the water, they are relentless killers without mercy and are admired by the Nomads for they believe that they share much in common.

  From the writings of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.