The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  Arn walked through the camp of his people and beside him was the woman he loved, when they first heard that the offspring of the Chosen were dying the King summoned the wisest of their clan and listen to them try to explain what was happening. Some said it was a plague but they could not say why only the children were affected. Another said it was a spell of a witch, so they put out talismans and lit ritual fires and made offerings of Burrow babies and the hearts of Rimar, but still the dying continued.

  Now Arn gathered the Elders and the warriors and they all sat round a large fire. The air was heavy with incense and the soft beating of drums. Again they talked and after that were still more talk but nothing seemed to satisfy the minds of the tribe.

  The oldest of their people, a man by the name of Lacanor came forward, he was tall with a long beard and sharp features he had once been a mighty warrior and had killed many enemies so his words carried weight among the tribe. Now he waited till all was quiet and then he spoke.

  “The death of our young is surely the work of a demon, for we have done all that was called upon us by the Gods”.

  The words of the learned man were strong for he had seen many cycles and his mind had not turned into that of a frail leg. He stood for a time and let his voice hold in the air then he spoke again, “if we are to save our children we must seek out this demon and kill it!”

  Those words brought a loud cry of approval from the warriors and they beat their weapons on the ground.

  “Kill the demon!” one shouted.

  “Death to the killer of our young!” cried another.

  Arn who had sat and listened quietly to all the talk stood up and raised his hand and there was quite once more.

  “If it was a demon then go into the night and find it and destroy it!” this brought cheers of joy from the warriors, then again the King called for silence, “but if it is not the work of a creature from the dark gulf who shall we fight?”

  These words did not bring shouts of approval for the men and women warriors were trained for battle not for riddles of the mind.

  Lacanor shook his gray head, “what can it be but a demon from the pit?” he asked, “all that can be done has been done, there surly must be an evil spirit among us!”

  There were more shouts from the warriors.

  Arn listened to his people they want to fight, he thought, they want an enemy to destroy but before he could calm there hot blood Andra rose to her feet.

  “A demon is not the cause of their deaths,” she said loudly, “it is something in their bodies”, the tribe was not prepared to have the mate of their king speak, “it could be some kind of virus or a genetic flaw but it’s not some supernatural creature”. She waited for a response from the tribe but as she did there was a great crack of thunder and a flash of lightning from overhead.

  “The Gods are angry!” cried the old warrior, “you have insulted Isarie!” and saying this the other warriors began to cry out again.

  “She has angered the Gods!”

  “Isarie will punish us for her words!”

  “Cast her out!”

  All this the King heard and it made him raise his voice in anger, “SILENCE!” he shouted then waited till the voices lowered, “we are not at the talk stone but all may speak”

  The tribe knew well the law of the Talk Stone, the sacred rock that sat at the middle of the Eye of Isarie in the plains of Darmock, there all could come forward and speak their minds without being challenged. But the stone was far to the East and there was no Holy Stone where they sat.

  Again there was thunder from the sky and with it followed streaks of lightning, and with that sound rumbling in their ears the old warrior spoke again.

  “Perhaps the King has grown weak and does not have the strength to fight demons?”

  Hearing what the Elder said sent whisperings through the throng of warriors for they knew it was a shaded threat towards his Kingship

  When the whispering had faded he spoke again, “I am too old to fight but is there a warrior who will stand up for me?” the old man asked.

  For a moment the King thought that he would not have to answer the challenge, there is no one foolish enough to risk death, but before he could calm the anger of his people a man came forward and spoke in a voice that could not be dismissed.

  “I challenge!” the warrior said.

  A flash of lightning bathed the man’s face in light and the King could see it was Yan-Orbano a strong warrior and one who bore a grudge against the King.

  Yan has come forward to fight, he thought, he cannot let the past sleep.

  Everyone knew that there had been a storm between the King and Orbano for he was the older brother of Thorm, the young warrior who had walked the path of pain. The tribe knew that it was a punishment that was called for, but still it hung heavy in the heart of Yan and now he saw a way to avenge his brother and still find respect with the tribe.

  But Andra did not know the brothership between Yan and the young man who had died, all she understood was that her words had somehow put her lover’s life in danger, why did not I keep my mouth shut she thought, then she remembered the words of her mother.

  “Choose your words before you speak them”.

  But that time was past now and the girl knew it, once a challenge was made it could not be forgotten, she turned to her mate and spoke so that no one else could hear, “it’s my fault, I’m sorry” she said.

  Arn did not say anything but he put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes, these are the eyes I wish to see, and in that moment they were one.

  The moment passed and it was time to kill or be killed.

  There was no challenge pit for the combatants to enter and there was no Sun-Gazer to mediate but never the less the battle would proceed and soon there would be a victor and a vanquished.

  Andra could do nothing as she watched the warriors make a circle with their bodies and clear the area of rocks so that the challengers would not stumble in their battle. Behind the warriors the Elders stood silently and prayed to Isarie to guide the hand of the righteous no matter who that might be.

  And as they were doing this Dietas the rain Goddess began to drain water from her jug and warm rain began to fall over the tribe of the Almadra.

  But the gift of the Gods would not halt the life of death struggle that was about to begin, the circle was complete and the two warriors came forward to fight and let fate decide who would be the victor.

  Arn knew that Yan was very strong and skilled with the warrior’s ax, he had seen him kill many enemies and he never saw any weaknesses, he also knew that hatred was a powerful drug and would shield him from pain or surrender. He would have to kill him that was certain and while he did this he would have to keep his own head attached to his neck.

  What thoughts Orbano had were plain to see for his eyes shone with vengeance and his heart beat only for vendetta.

  It was Lacanor who called out for the battle to begin.

  And it was Yan who struck the first blow; he raced forward like a charging Rimar with his weapon lifted high and swung it with all his might at the head of his King. Arn deflected the blow with his ax and as he moved pass his opponent he struck out with his fist and hit the man on the side of his face, the blow did little damage and they both turned to face each other again.

  Andra watch the fighting technique of Yan and gripped the handle of her weapon tightly, he is quick but he leaves his right side open when he charges. It was not something that anyone could see but endless hours of training hand to hand had made the Selcarie girl an expert at finding weaknesses and taking advantage of them. If Arn strikes fast then moves faster he could win.

  Arns movements were like those of a Sagar Cat, and although he was strongly built with heavy arms and massive thews he still was very quick. It was a trait that all Nomads had, they were made for fighting, the ultimate soldier and that breeding had resulted in the fighting machine that now battled for its life.

  The King circ
led his challenger, he is strong, but I am stronger, and with those words in his mind he shouted out the battle cry of his people and rushed forward. Yan barely escaped with his life for the swinging ax of the Nomad missed his head by a fraction and sent a flashing spark when it bounced off his heavy helmet. Orbano swung his weapon but it glanced off the leg armor of the King and did little damage so again they drew back to take stock of each other.

  Andra watched her lover fight for his life and it made her heart beat fast, if only I could help she thought if only I could help. But she knew if she came to the aid of her mate she would be cut down by the other warriors for intervening. So she held herself back and gripped the handle of her war-ax even harder, strike at his left she called out with her mind, his left is weak.

  Arn again made himself ready for a charge but as he did he suddenly heard a small voice in his head, his left is weak it said, and hearing those words the King suddenly knew what to do. Let him charge, then when he passes strike to his weakness.

  The rain continued to pour and the sky flashed with lightning, but it could not drown out the shouting of the warriors, then as another lightning bolt broke the heavens Yan moved forward.

  But this time the King was ready, Arn deflected a mighty blow with the side of his ax, then as his opponent passed him he turned and in a blinding movement of speed he struck out and his weapon bit into the right side of Yan. For a time Andra did not think the blow had found its mark for Orbano still remained on his feet. He turned and raised his weapon and was about to charge again when he suddenly froze in his tracks, he stood there like a stature and let the rain wash over him. He seemed to smile for a moment and then fell forward on his face.

  As he lay there a great cheer rose up from the warriors, for they had seen a good fight and the Gods had decided that their King would remain so.

  “Arn is victorious” one called out.

  “Our King is strong,” said another.

  And as the shouting continued Lacanor came forward and stood before Arn, he bowed his head, “I was wrong in my words” he said solemnly, “you are not weak and the Gods stand at your side”.

  Another King might have raised his ax and cut off the head of the old man for questioning his rule, but Arn was not such a leader. Instead he put his hand on the man’s shoulder and spoke softly, “you spoke your heart, and that is the mark of a true warrior”.

  The kind words from his King made the heart of the old man feel content, for it had been a long time sense anyone had called him a warrior. And in all the remaining days of his life he would tell that story again and again and know that he was not forgotten.

  The rain was still coming down as they took away the body of Yan-Orbano to prepare it for burial, now the King and Andra stood in the empty place where Arn had fought for his life.

  “I heard your voice in my mind” the King said as he looked into the eyes of his mate.

  Andra smiled and held Arn tighter, “and I will always hear yours in mine”.

  They stood without saying another word and listened to the sound of thunder crack from the heavens; it rolled over the Place of Dreams and shook the ground with its fury.

  But they only heard the beating of their entwined hearts.

  The morning found the sky clear and the twin suns drying the dew from the waving grass, a soft wind now blew from the East and on it hung the scent of forest flowers and woodland vine. But none of this mattered to the Nomads for the air was filled with the cries of Mothers for children who were no longer alive.

  All through the night the men and women who had born young during the Burning Time had to watch as their offspring died, one by one they simply closed their eyes and passed from this world into the next. There was no pain and they did not cry out, the life that was in them simply vanished. The Elders deemed it a mercy from Isarie for they had watched as their young had been tormented by demons of the mind and at last that torture was ended. But that did not soften the pain that the parents felt in their hearts when they held the lifeless bodies of the thing they loved most. But there was one thing that the no one could explain.

  Not all the children died.

  As the Almadra cried and prepared the small bodies for burial they also noticed that only one twin had perished. In no case did both of the children cross over into the Afterlife, it was only one.

  A fact that did not go unnoticed by Osh.

  “It must have been connected to the practice of the choosing,” he said as he sat near his Washa fire. “In the past they would have made the choice of letting one live and casting out the other to die”.

  Andra was sitting near the fire with her old friend and Endo, for she did not want to deal with the preparations that were being done before they placed the children in the ground. For although she was a strong woman her heart could not bear that site. So she decided to share a cup of warm tea with the old man and try to forget the ritual that was to come. “So what you’re saying is that sense they did not follow their traditions it somehow caused the deaths of the children?”

  The old man nodded his large head, “that is exactly what I am saying”, he took a sip of his warm tea, “you see the Nomads were made for warfare, and their makers devised a unique plan for eliminating the weaker of their species. They would give birth to twins or more as they slept in the cocoons of the crystal spiders, then after they emerged they would start grow at a greatly accelerated rate”, he took another sip of his tea. “Then after a time they would have to choose which of the children would live and which should die according to who was the stronger, but this past cycle they did not continue that tradition and the consequences were disastrous as you can see”.

  Andra let the words of her old friend sink in, “so they let the children live and somehow it caused their deaths?”

  “Correct”, the Callaxion said bluntly, “it must have been some sort of mind-lock connection. They had been acting erratic for some time now and it must have been caused by an intrusive linking of their neural pathways from being in such close proximity to each other”, again he sipped his tea. “It sometimes happens with our kind also, when we link with very powerful Tollacian computers, there is a feedback wave that causes...”

  “Wait!” interrupted the girl “your saying that when people can read other peoples thoughts it might kill them?”

  Osh was not all together happy with the summary of his comments but he had to agree, “Well yes, or drive them mad, I think that is essentially the case”.

  This sent the Andra to thinking am I becoming linked with Arn? Did the time we lay with each other in the cave cause this?

  She was remembering back to the Burning Time when the Crystal spiders came out of the darkness, wrapped them in their silk and then slept through the fires, she knew that something was different ever sense then but she did not realize that it might cause their deaths. Will I put an ending to his life? Then she remembered the people of the dark.

  “But the Shadowmen are the brothers and sisters of the Nomads, how can they still remain alive?” she asked.

  The old man did not have a clear answer to this question but he did have a theory, “well it might be that they were far enough away from their counterparts and distance could be the prime factor. Or it just might be the ingestion of black Grana or Tral as it’s known to the Outlanders, mothers give it to the one who is to die to hasten the process and save them from a long agonizing.....”

  Andra put down her cup of tea and suddenly rose to her feet, “I’ve heard enough”, then she turned and walked away from the Washa fire and in the direction of her tent.

  Endo who had sat quietly as his mother and father spoke now turned to look at the old man, “mother is afraid,” he said openly.

  This caught the Callaxion off guard “why do you say that?” he asked

  “Because I can smell it”, the Sandjar replied.

  It was near Sunfall when the Nomads were ready to bury their young.

  The sky was open and clear and the da
y moons shone with a brilliance that had not been seen in a long time. They hung in the heavens and looked down on the creatures that moved upon their mother for they were the children of Gorn.

  How old the largest of them was, no one could tell for it and its brothers and sisters had traveled through the heavens for as long as there were Nomads to see them. They did however know the age of the smallest for the tiny moon called Andra had been created not yet one cycle before. Now the children of the stars watched as the tribe of Almadra paid homage to their kind.

  All the people of the tribe were gathered near the great red stone that was at the center of the Place of Dreams. The warriors had cleaned their armor and now it gleamed in the setting sunlight like the stars in the night sky, the Elders wore their best and held the sacred Ancestor-chests in their hands. The Ironworkers had fashioned small war-axes because even though the dead children were not warriors they still wish to send them into the Afterlife with the sanctioned weapon in their tiny hands.

  The Holy Mother also came to show her respect, Egmar was dressed in the traditional black robes of judgment. She held the staff with the large golden eye but in her other hand she did not carry the small stone hammer that was needed to drive the Journey-Nails into the hands of a fallen warrior, so that he or she would carry their weapon through all eternity. Next to her stood Kela, she was dressed like her mistress and held a golden bowl of Grana in her slim hands. Around them stood the Handmaidens, they were not naked as they would have been for a warriors burial, for now they wore white robes and their hair was held high up with ivory pins and bobbles made from shells and feathers of the Onyx bird. But they did hold smoking bowls of burning incense and the smoke drifted up lazily like a whisper wing on the wind.

  And with the Holy Mother the stood the Thungodra, they had also cleaned their dark armor and polished the horns on their helmets so that they might look their best.

  Kuno and his Spikeback warriors did not attend the ceremony, for it was his duty to guard the tribe and he would so to the end. So he ordered that the long range weapons and the disrupters be pointed outward and made ready in case of attack. He did allow any man or woman who had lost a child to stay by the body and even though he was known as a man who cared little for children his eyes still showed tears from the pain in his heart.