Nomads of the Gods

by Gary Mark Lee

NOMADS of the GODS

  By

  GARY MARK LEE

  Published by author

  Gary Mark Lee

  At

  Copyright 2013 by Gary Mark Lee Edition 3

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents (cont.)

  Memory

  Chapter 1. Orphans of the Stars

  Chapter 2. The Nomads

  Chapter 3. The Falling Star

  Chapter 4. Gods and Men

  Chapter 5. The Rite of Kings

  Chapter 6. Captives

  Chapter 7. The Hand of God

  Chapter 8. Rumblings

  Chapter 9. Shadows and Light

  Chapter 10. The Hunt

  Chapter 11. Laughter in the Night

  Chapter 12. The Stone City

  Chapter 13. Fire and Ice

  Chapter 14. A Hard Choice

  Chapter 15. Earth-shaker

  Chapter 16. Warriors Weep

  Chapter 17. Mazes

  Chapter 18. The Gathering

  Chapter 19. The Talk-Stone

  Chapter 20. The Word of God

  Chapter 21. The Challenge

  Chapter 22. Fire in the Sky

  Chapter 23. Hands and Hearts

  Chapter 24. The Judgment

  Chapter 25. Outcasts

  Chapter 26. Partings

  Chapter 27. The Tears of Isarie

  Chapter 28 The Sky-Riders

  Table of Contents (cont.)

  Chapter 29. Anoc time

  Chapter 30. The Oath of Blood

  Chapter 31. Hunters and the Hunted

  Chapter 32. The Shadow-men

  Chapter 33. The Angel of Death

  Chapter 34. The Hollow Hills

  Chapter 35. Lords of the Underworld

  Chapter 36. The Crystal Spiders

  Chapter 37. Sun Song

  Chapter 38. Death Bringers

  Chapter 39. Underworld

  Chapter 40. The Burning Time

  Chapter 41. Rebirth

  Chapter 42. The Twin Dragons

  Chapter 43. Fathers and Sons

  Chapter 44. The New Land

  Chapter 45. War in the Outlands

  Chapter 46. Return of the Outcasts

  Chapter 47. Exiles of the Gods

  Chapter 48. Death Skies

  Chapter 49. Red Ruin

  Chapter 50. The Gods Arise

  Chapter 51. Moon rise

  ENDINGS

  Map of Gorn

  About the Author

  Memory

  Forgive me if I speak plainly, for I do not possess the word-speak of the scholars of Torogona, nor can I fill the air with the Oparian's sing-song language. I can only say what, is, in my mind, with the simple words of a star traveler but I will speak the truth. So sit and listen and I will tell you of many things few have come to know and understand. If I stumble in my lettering, or mistakenly use a word, I should not, I hope, you will understand, I write this with a shaking hand. Although the ages weigh heavily upon me, my mind is still clear, I see yesterday as if it were today. My life is an open book and in it, the wisdom of the stars.

  There are few who remember anything from the age of the Outlanders and none who remember it all. Now, as I sit, weary with age and memory, I think back on the people of the Wastelands, my mind fills with images of their faces. They roll past my inner eye so clearly, young and old, strong and the weak. I remember all the long days and longer nights of my life. I think back on the centuries before me, wondering if others such as I, have looked back upon their time, to think as I do. Is life just a remembrance of lives past and future? Are there new futures to come? I do not know, all I have, are these few memories, burning in my mind like the fires of Gorn

  Gorn! A name that holds all the mysteries of the heavens. Gorn, a place of wonder and terror, Gorn, a land where The Chosen of the Gods, still lift their arms to the sky and pray. I must start at the beginning and let my story speak for itself, to any who care to listen.

  Long after the fall of Great Sal-Sinarie, long before the age of the Urans, the galaxy was without direction or purpose. The Outer Rim worlds exiled themselves from The Gathering, they no longer traveled the star ways, to trade or share wisdom. Great republics came and went, in an endless series invasions and war, leaving most of the Core Worlds in ruin.

  With each passing year's inevitable losses, the small number of giant ships moving between the systems, waned. None were built and the knowledge of their building and how they worked, became known to a select few. After the last of the Trajion Wars, the less well traveled regions of space, were at the mercy of lawless marauders. It was at the end of this time that a few of the Inner Core's more civilized worlds, began to reach out.

  In this Awakening, came the motive force of The Second Gathering, uniting with one great idea. The Inner Core began working to return peace, order, and knowledge, to a sleeping galaxy. As the new Age of Reason slowly advanced into the dark regions, more worlds joined, some willingly others less so, to secure their place in the new order and their share of the Second Gathering's technology. One by one, ancient worlds of the Outer Rim rose from their Dark Age, to walk in the light of The Second Gathering.

  I was a prophet of those times, a member of the elite, certain of my place in the universe, eager, to spread the blessings of civilization, some called it Empire, others Destiny. Both saw me land on a score of backward worlds that I sought unceasingly to change, convince and convert. I saw many strange lands and spoke in strange tongues to even stranger creatures. I am one of the living few, to have seen the reclusive Kaylon who live for millennia, in the dark caverns of their ice-shrouded world. I have shared, their communion with the life force and their vast intelligence, I have heard them whispering to the stars and heard the star's slow answer.

  A pilgrim was I, a Holy Palmer to the city named Eternity, where I looked into the face of Helox, the oldest living creature of the galaxy. She spoke to me of Worlds beyond Worlds and of many things I did not understand. I have sat in the assemblages of the Xtralion Alliance, listened to their Elders debate the future of the galaxy, the very paths of the stars.

  I was one of the few, content in the knowledge that I was one of The Chosen of the Gods. Now, as my end draws near, I sit and wonder, at all I have seen, heard and done and I weep. My faith in the face of history, was as dust to a windstorm of change, worthless. In spite of all my work, all my belief and wisdom, I will die and be forgotten, returning to the stars whence I came. I will become as dust and all shall be gone, changed during the birth of new worlds. Nothing will mark my passage, my work undone. In the fullness of time, I who have traveled the long roads of hidden space, have discovered that all of my travels were in vain. With these eyes, I have watched worlds die, worlds born and yet did not see the truth.

  I listen each day in my solitude, for the voice of the stars but hear only the empty echo of, my failing heart. I hear little, though my eyes are dim, I still see. Not the darkness, nor the emerald pastures of paradise, so many believe in. I see twin suns, rising over ancient snow capped mountains. I see sand, blown on dry winds from the burning Salgar Dunes. I imagine, I feel its warm sting on my wrinkled face. I imagine hearing the roaring cries of the Earth Shakers, as they lumber over the green Sirolian plains, I smell the spring rain on warm rock, I close my eyes and weep. Full of desperate longing, to return to the place where the Outlanders roamed, strong and free. My heart draws near to the faces in my memory. I yearn with all my soul, once more to ride across the trackless lands of my beloved Gorn.

  I want to go home.