The Fallen God

by Gary Mark Lee

  And to everyone surprise there was another who came to stand with the tribe.

  Anais had come out of his tent and into the light.

  He wore a plain dark robe and no other adornment, it was strange to see him this way for in the past he had always dressed himself in the costliest attire and prided himself on the best silver and gold jewelry. Now he could be mistaken for any Outlanders and not one of royal birth. He walked alone with only a staff to lean against and help guide him in his steps, and although there were many that remembered his cruelty they still cleared a path for him as he came near the King.

  Arn watched his brother come close, he has come to stand with us, he thought, but he still remembered his treachery and the role he had in killing his other brother Agart, he can stand but I will not catch him if he falls.

  Beside the King stood Andra, she also saw Anais slowly walking towards her but her heart was not hardened by the days of the past, he is blind and should be pitied.

  And there was one more that saw the blind Prince and although the site should have moved her heart it did not.

  Egmar watched her son slowly walk and then stand near the King and it should have been enough to make her soul leap with joy but there was a cloud blocking the sunshine from her soul. As she looked at him she heard again that voice that was now always with her, and in her eyes she seemed to see that same dark spider sitting on her shoulder and whispering words in her ear.

  This is the son who betrayed his people, the dark aberration said; this is the son who wished you dead.

  And although she did not want to listen she could not shut her ears, he has suffered much, she thought, he deserves my love.

  But the dark creature continued to speak he deserves nothing!

  And hearing this in her mind caused the Holy Mother to speak, “all deserve love”

  Kela looked over at the one she called Enor, “are you ready to begin?” she asked.

  Egmar nodded her head (yes) and doing so the young Handmaiden motioned to the Thungodra by her side that in turn lifted his weapon to signal that all was ready.

  There are many drums that the Nomads use for their rituals, there are the red stained war drums that call the warriors to arms, there are the large mating drums whose sound fires the blood under the Breast of Isarie. And there are smaller drums that are used for dancing under the stars, the Outlanders use all these instruments and they do so with pleasure, but there are some drums that are beaten with pain, those drums now sounded.

  The Nomads heard the death drums and they shed tears for they sounded not for warriors who had battled and given up their lives in defense of their tribe, this was for innocent children who had not yet begun to live.

  The Almadra had cleaned their small bodies and dressed them in robes of white, the put the small iron axes in one hand and a carved wooden toy in the other. Beside them were tiny bowls filled with meadow cane so they might enjoy its sweet tasted as they made their way to the Golden Hall of Isarie. There was also a small offering of Grana salt to show respect for the gift of the Goddess.

  And when all was made ready the Handmaidens came forward and sang a song of remembrance.

  “You were my love that walked the earth.

  You were the child of my rebirth.

  I will see your face in all my dreams.

  I will feel your love in sunlight beams.

  Wait for me in the golden hall.

  For I will come when darkness falls.

  And when my soul is without desire.

  All will sit beside the fire.

  Together and together throughout all time.

  And all shall know that you were mine.”

  And with the ending of the song the Holy Mother lifted her staff and all was quiet, she stood for a time and looked at the golden glow that was coming from the setting suns. It seemed that she was trying to find words that would speak the emotions that everyone was feeling in their hearts.

  Kela looked at the women beside her, her heart is to troubled to speak and when Egmar did not come forth it was the Handmaiden who spoke.

  “There is too much pain in the heart of our Holy Mother to let her speak. So let us say the words that all might understand... “garnog cortrex horcon unarnis-balnor lun rator pollartex intarius sinuous troben seth...you are the Gods of the heavens and we are your children, guide those who come to you and take them into your heart”. It was an old prayer, but one the Nomads understood.

  And when his tribe repeated those words and there was silence once more the King came forward and spoke so that all might hear. “They were the children of our hearts, they will not be forgotten”. He lifted his ax and pointed it at the great red stone that stood at the center of the Place of Dreams, and then he spoke again, “from this day forward the great rock that stands there shall be known as ratash unnorco almadra. The heart of the Almadra, and all who see it will know the love that we bore for our young”.

  And so the children were buried near the great stone and each had meadow flowers heaped upon their graves. The Elders came forward and each spoke a prayer to help guide them in their journey to the Afterlife. The Handmaidens sprinkled Grana and spoke comforting words from the Holy Book and shed more tears to show their grief, and when darkness came the warriors stood guard through the night least a demon come and try to steal the souls of the dead.

  Egmar too stood before the tiny mounds of earth and spoke a prayer to the Goddess asking that she allow them into her Golden Hall and let them sit on her right side for all eternity. But it was a strange thing for although she prayed and spoke soft words there were no tears in her eyes, it was a simple thing to go unnoticed and only one saw that her cheeks were not wet, for Kela was standing near her and only she wondered at such a curious thing.

  At last the ceremonies were completed and the grieving mothers and fathers returned to their tents and tried to ease the pain in their hearts by holding those children that remained to them. But still through the night sounds of crying could be heard and the soft beating of sacred drums.

  In ages to come Nomads will pass the Place of Dreams and see the homage that the tribe paid to those that the Gods had chosen to take. How those Gods decide who shall live and who shall die cannot be known by mortals for their wisdom is beyond the reach of their minds.

  For thousands of years the Elders of the Outlands have sat and talked of things past and things that are yet to come, they read the words set down in the great book of Isarie and argue about its merits and shortcomings. They prayed and ask the Holy Goddess to grant them power because they are the Chosen and the ones most worthy of her love. When another speaks words that they do not agree with they say it is the work of demons and the one who spoke them should be made Outcast. When someone dies they say it is the will of Isarie and one must accept her judgment. They say all this because they are true believers and the only ones smiled upon by the Gods. But all the wisdom of the ages and all the words spoken by the holy cannot mend a broken heart.

  And all the suns in the heavens cannot dry the tears of a mother for the loss of her child.

  Chapter 14.

  The Norgonie.

  The people of the forests are your kin.

  But they are not the chosen of my heart.

  For they bow before a false God.

  And when the day of ending comes.

  They will perish in fire.

  From the book of Isarie.

  “Father, why do the Nomads hate the Norgonie?” it was a question that had been troubling the mind of Endo sense they passed through the Belt of Isarie. Now as he held the reins of their Karrack he asked the old man who sat beside him scribbling on a half-finished scroll of Rimar hide.

  “The Norgoine do not hate their brethren” the Callaxion replied “they simply worship another God called Arm-Ra who they believe was the father of the Outlanders first deity Isarie”.

  “But if the Nomads and the Norgonie do not drink from the same cup why would seek to sit at the same tabl
e?”

  Osh was very proud of the query from his son, he is asking the right questions, the old man thought, so he put down his writings and turned his full attention to the young Sandjar. “You see my son the Nomads life is governed by a series of ritual events; these are set down by the movements of the stars and number of days in the cycle of their sun years. But most of all it is ruled by the moons overhead”, and to empathize is statement he pointed to the three day moons that could be clearly seen above, “the Outlanders use them as a guide to their travels. Each tribe has specific rules that say where they must be at certain times so that they do not come in conflict with other Nomads. The Almadra, Caladon, Armrod, Ozendra and all the other Outland families obey those ancient laws and if they don’t they risk war with the other tribes.

  Endo listened intently and nodded his head in understanding, the Sandjar have similar rules.

  “From information I have obtained from the tribe it has been many cycles sense the Almadra have ventured into the Caltarine forests, but now their laws say that they must feast with the Norgonie and perform certain rituals that cannot be done anywhere else. I suspect it has something to do with their religious beliefs, there are other tribes that live in the woodlands but the Norgonie are the strongest.”

  The Sandjar boy thought this over for a short time as his father returned to his writings. He had learned not to rush into questions and to take time to find the right words to speak his mind, “are there many Gods?” he finally asked.

  Osh continued to write, “oh my yes, the Outlanders have dozens and I dare say that we will find that the Norgonie also worship many others. Then if you take into account the Gods, lesser Gods and deities of other worlds you would arrive at a number that must surely be astronomical”. This made the old man put down his writings and begin to calculate that number, but he had only begun his list when his adopted son spoke again.

  “Why do they need so many Gods? The green skinned boy asked.

  This questioned caused Osh to stop his computing. “Well I think it is because there are so many different creatures in the universe, and each one wants to believe that they are above the rest, they want to think that their God is the only one and that all others are false”.

  Again there was a pause, as the boy thought this over, but not for long.

  “Then which one is the one true God?”

  Osh was about to answer his son when he realized that this was a question that scholars greater than him had been arguing about for thousands of cycles. So he decided on a much easier topic of discussion.

  “Wouldn’t you rather talk about sex”, he asked.

  This made the young Sandjar smile and seeing that look the old man knew that telling his son about reproduction was going to be much less complicated then resolving the question on whose God was supreme.

  Far in front of Osh’s wagon and leading the tribe of the Almadra, Arn and Andra looked out over the lush landscape before them. It was a place of plenty, with patches of red leafed trees and shallow streams of crystal clear water. All about were herds of fat Rimar and families of magnificently plumed Doff-birds, there were wild Spikebacks and pods of huge Ax-Breakers, and in the distance could be heard the roar of hungry Whiptails as they watched and waited for any sign of weakness to feast upon. There were fields of yellow and blue flowers and overhead could be seen flocks of colorful feathered birds of all shapes and sizes. And in the air was the scent of life.

  This land is a paradise, Andra thought, the people who live here must be very happy. She looked over at the tall warrior riding beside her, I am very happy now; I have all that I want. Once more she breathed in the fresh clean air, but as she did an image flashed into her mind. An image of tall warriors in green and brown, then like the lighting in the Outlands it was gone. She shook her head, what was it that I saw?

  It had been many cycles sense Arn’s Whiptail had walked these lands, the last time was when he was still just a Prince of the Nomads and not a King, long days and night had passed from that time till now and he had learned many things. But in all those lessons he had failed to overcome the image that was now plaguing his mind.

  Will she recognize my face? He thought, would I still know her eyes? And no matter how hard he tried he could not drive those hypnotic eyes from his heart.

  There was one person whose heart was lighter now; Anais had come out of the darkness and into the light. He now sat quietly beside the Handmaiden who the Holy Mother had asked to stay with her son, Kela was content to do so and now she held the reins of the Princes wagon and spoke to him of many things.

  “I was only a young girl when I was chosen to be a Handmaiden”, she said, “my father was a warrior but he was killed in a battle with the Caladon, my mother is also dead, she died during rebirth and so did my brother”.

  The blind man listened to the sad story of the girl and unlike his past his heart felt pain from her words, she has suffered much, he thought, as have I. And for a moment he thought he was hearing another’s voice in his head for he had spent many cycles hating all those who spoke of mercy or love.

  I wanted to change, perhaps I am? And knowing that there might be a place for him in the Golden Hall of the Goddess rather than burning for eternity in the Pit of Marloon made him feel a warmth that he had not felt in a very long time.

  “Your life has not been an easy one” he told the young girl, “do you still believe in the mercy of Isarie?”

  There was no hesitation from the Handmaiden, “oh yes” she smiled, “Isarie is wise and the Holy Mother is her heart”.

  Those words moved in the blind man’s mind, she loves Isarie, he thought, she loves my mother.

  But in the moving shrine of the Goddess Egmars heart was not content.

  She sat alone in her chamber and stared at the cup of Deep-root tea that she held in her hand. This tea is bitter, she thought, I am the voice of the Goddess, I deserve better! Then she took the cup and threw it on the floor and shouted to a Handmaiden who she had commanded to stand near her. “Bring me another cup of tea, and this time make sure it’s the best!”

  “At once Holy Mother” the Handmaiden said with fear in her words, “and I will make certain it’s the finest we have”, then with a bow the girl left to do her mistress’s will.

  Egmar watched her go, silly girl, why can I not have better servants? She looked over at the small golden statue of Isarie that always sat on a delicately carved wooden shrine near her bed. “You are the greatest God of all, yet your chosen are not”, she said softly, “perhaps your choice of mates was ill conceived”, this jest made her smile and turn to look at the table beside her. On it was a silver bowl filled with ripe Balbar fruit; a well-made iron figure of a creature holding candles in its clawed hands and a large black spider.

  The Holy Mother smiled at the dark arachnid, “is their laughter in the Underworld?” she asked.

  The spider moved its head from side to side, “there is no laughter for all is pain”, it replied.

  Egmar stared into the red eyes of the creature, I know that this thing cannot be, she thought but still I see it? She closed her eyes, why do I see it, why do I listen to its words? She opened her eyes.

  The spider was no longer there.

  She sat for a time and tried to remember what had taken place only a short time before, she remembered the light of morning and the warm Hagar soup she had eaten. She remembered sending Kela to her son, but then darkness came over her and try as she might she could not remember things after.

  What has happened to me, why do I feel as I do, what do I carry inside me? All these were questions that plagued her mind and burdened her heart; she felt like her soul was being split in two, one side in the light the other in darkness. She turned to look at the Holy Book of Isarie that was sitting on a pedestal at the other end of the chamber. In that book is the wisdom of the Goddess, in it is the words that will bring clearness to my vision and music to my ears.

  She got up from her seat and went to the
book and opened the ornate cover, she looked down at the delicate inscriptions and started to recite words that had always given her comfort.

  “Isarie looked down upon her father and saw that he was dead, and knowing this she took his skull and from it made the vault of the heavens, then she took his body and from it made the world beneath your feet”. Hearing her words made the weight lift from her shoulders. Isarie can heal any wound; she can drive all demons away for she lives in the light.

  “I have brought your tea Holy Mother,” the Handmaiden said as she put the silver tray on the table.

  Egmar turned to her and smiled “thank you” she said, then came over and sat near the table and let the girl pour her some of the fragrant drink. “I am sorry that I spoke harshly to you my child”, the old women spoke, “it was my years speaking and not my heart” then she took a sip of the warm tea. Tasting it anyone could tell it was indeed made from the best roots that could be found in the Outlands. But to the Holy Mother it had a bitter taste and out of a corner of her eye she could see a dark apparition sitting on the open pages of the Holy Book, and with her ears she could hear it speak.

  “Rahash” it said.

  Egmar took the cup in her hand and threw it to the floor; then she put her scarred face into her hands and wept.

  It was late in the day when the Almadra approached the Great Forest.

  Before them lay a land of tall trees rising up like emerald warriors, they stood shoulder to shoulder an army of always watching guardians. Behind them in the distance were tall cloud hidden mountains that seemed to reach so high they could block the moons in the sky and force them to move round their jagged peaks.

  Arn knew that they were coming to the end of their journey; he had looked forward and dreaded this for a long time. And although it had been many cycles’ sense his tribe had traveled this way it was not long enough to erase his memories. Now as he looked at the endless forest before him it seemed like he had never been away, the air smelled of life and growing things and behind that drifted the sweet smell of the White Lotus.