Nomads of the Gods

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 13. Fire and Ice

  Sing the songs with marching feet, hear the sounds of war drums beat.

  Live your days and worry not, laugh at death and wars well fought.

  Selcarie marching song.

  Andra had been told to remain behind in camp for now. As usual, she had no intention of doing so. She had been in far more dangerous cities and this one seemed no worse. So, even though she had given her word to Arn, that she would stay in camp, she was just waiting until she was alone. Then, she would see what the traders of the Talsonar, had to offer.

  Unlike the warriors, Andra had no armor to wear, she decided to dress in one of Seeda's colorful robes. After all, Seeda had many nice garments, she was sure, she would not miss one. So she picked one out with a hood, to cover her face, in case she came across a Nomad, who might recognize her. She also took her Dragons-teeth, by now, she had worn the twin daggers so often, she felt naked without them. She had nothing to trade but that wasn't her purpose anyway. She did not want to be told, she could or could not, go where she wanted, besides, she would be back before anyone noticed. She took one last look at herself, in a small reflection plate, she pulled up the hood and left.

  Outside the night air was warm and the moon’s overhead, gave out a silvery light that shone off the immense surface of the pyramid city, making it seem more of a magical place, than a city of danger. The beacon on top of the city, blinked on and off, like a great burning eye in the night sky. Its beam illuminated the trader’s stalls, in flashes of warmth, then it disappeared until the next flash. Andra quickly checked, if any of the guards were about, she saw two Nomads coming towards her, one very tall, the other shorter. They were carrying trading pouches and seemed eager to begin the night's activities. As they came closer, Andra ducked behind a water wagon, as they passed, she could hear them talking.

  “I have a large Sun-dropper claw, it should make a good trade for a new saddle,” the tall one said.

  “I heard that one claw is no longer enough for a saddle, you will need at least three claws,” the shorter of the two replied.

  “Then I will have to persuade the tanner that one claw will be enough,” he fingered the large dagger at his belt.

  They walked past the wagon without seeing Andra, when they were gone, she moved quietly away, towards the beckoning torches of the Talsonar traders.

  Osh had been looking forward to seeing the Pyramid City up close but taking care of Endo, was a full-time job. Just this day, he had caught him teasing one of the Whiptails, if had not rescued him quickly, he would have ended up in the beast’s belly. He decided, he needed a little rest, before leaving camp, so he put the Sandjar to bed, then lay down for a nap.

  When he opened his eyes again it was night. The old man got up from his bed slowly and looked around the small tent, he was expecting to see Endo in the sand pit, he had dug for him. It was his favorite sleeping place but there was no sign of the young Sandjar.“Endo?” he called out; where is that boy? Under the blankets or in the storage vessels again? “Endo, where are you hiding?” he asked again. No answer.

  A bit concerned now, he quickly searched the small tent, there was nothing. Now, he was certain Endo was gone, for a moment, he thought the Nomads, had at last made good on their threat, to kill the Sandjar. There had been no sound of a struggle, so it seemed, Endo had simply left their quarters on his own. Quickly, the old man drew on his robe and left to find his son.

  The dark alleyways of the Talsonar traders, were not good places to be. There were too many ways for the life of an unwary traveler to be taken. Around any corner, an assassin or thief, could be lurking. It did not matter if you were wealthy or poor, they would kill you for the clothes on your back, or a simple gold ring on your finger. Most city dwellers stayed well clear of the dingy avenues and left them to the denizens of the night.

  Andra had been walking those streets for some time now. She had seen the trader's stalls but found nothing of interest. She did not care for trinkets and cooking pots and she had no use for them. After a short time she became bored and decided to see, what the dark alleyways had to offer.

  She had been in worse streets during the war, she had to fight in many such places, seeking out, sniper attack droids. After a battle, she found comfort in the darkness, as she tried to forget, how many of her comrades had died. As she walked, she began to sing her regiment's old songs and walk with the swagger she had, before the Selcarie defeat.

  Seeda and Almec, were leaving the trading stalls and returning to camp, they had not spoken, since purchasing the Ice crystals. Almec knew, Seeda was headstrong and reckless sometimes but this was not a childish prank on an elder, or laughing during Holy rituals. This was breaking one of the tribe's strongest laws, it they were caught, they would pay a heavy price.

  The young warrior finally broke the silence, “What will you do with the crystals?” They should be buried deep in the earth and we should ask Isarie to forgive us!

  Seeda looked at him and smiled, “What do you think?”

  “You should throw them into the sand now, the Gods will punish you if you do not,” he said solemnly.

  Seeda suddenly stopped and turned to him, her dark eyes filled with fire, “Do the Gods make the laws, or are they the fears of Frail-legs?” She looked up at the night sky, “There are other worlds, other ways, I do not want to live the same life, as those who have gone before. I want to see if there is more and if that means breaking our laws, or standing before the Gods, I will!” I speak against the Gods, do they hear me?

  Almec shook his head, “Surely, Isarie will know what you have done and she will be angry.”

  “Isarie lives in the stars, we live here, why must we always live in the shadow of the Gods. Is there no life that is just ours and ours alone?” Seeda waited for an answer but none came, “Go if you wish, I will understand.” If he goes, I will be alone. I do not want him to go.

  Almec looked hard at her, knowing he should turn and go, it was the right thing to do, a warrior who stands against the Gods will soon be crushed. He looked into her eyes and watched the warm night air, blow through her golden hair, his feet would not move. He heard voices in his mind, telling him to leave her and return to the ways of the Almadra. There was another voice, above all the others, it had a sweet song, it rose up from his heart, a voice he could not ignore, “I will stay,” he said softly; Isarie forgive me.

  Seeda smiled, leaning over she gave him a long warm kiss, “Then come with me and let us see, what the Talsonar's forbidden fruit has to offer.” I am not alone.

  They walked slowly into the night, Almec did not know, if the Gods were watching them or not but it did not matter, when love calls, a warrior cannot refuse the challenge.

  Osh had looked everywhere for Endo, he was not at the food wagons and there was no sign of him at the water casks. He was reluctant to ask, if anyone had seen him. Osh was in enough trouble with the Nomads, for taking in the Sandjar. If they knew he was running free, there would be more hatred, so he decided to look for him alone. It did not take long to confirm, Endo was not in camp. Osh looked at the torches on the trading stalls, their flickering lights, would be an enticement, the Sandjar would find irresistible. Osh gave a soft sigh and started walking towards the city of stone.

  High above the trading stalls, Darken laid on his bed, he was alone except for Oseena. She lay naked and deep in the warm dreams that fill the minds of the uncaring. The Governor on the other hand, was wide-awake. Like all God-men, he had grown tired of the Sin-Cravers and has sent them away. His mind was filled with plan after plan, a vast design of balance and counterbalance, one he always found so enjoyable. It was not the joy of holding treasure in his hands, what he loved so much, was surviving the mazes, his enemies set before him. Now, ruled by his hand, it was his turn, to make the chessmen move. He laughed a little, thinking of how clever he had been, how he managed to rise up from the lower depths, to become, Ruler of the Talsonar. To him it was rather easy, just find ou
t, what those above want and give it to them, they in turn, would begin to trust you, then betrayed them.

  Suddenly, he got up from his soft bed and went to the large viewing window, looking down at the Nomad's camp. The beacon, on top of the pyramid, flashed on and off, it gave him glimpses of the Outlands people far below. He could see their Washa fires and their wagons joined in a defensive circle.

  He sat down at in a large ornate chair, covered in thick Hagar Bear fur. Next to the chair, was a small table, with a board for playing Mind War. It was a form of chess, of which Darken was very fond. As a young ruling class boy, he had played for hours on end and became very proficient. He reached over and picked up one of the small ivory figures, he looked at it carefully. It was the Man-God, the most powerful figure in the game, all the other pieces, were subject to the moves of the Man-God. As he looked at it, he closed his eyes, maybe it was the drink from last night’s orgy, or maybe, his mind playing tricks on him but he seemed to hear his father voice, calling his name.

  “Throsh!” It was a name his father called him. In his home world's language, it meant someone of little value. He opened his eyes and looked around the room, he expected to find nothing but in the corner of the room, standing in the shadows, was his father. He looked at the tall figure, dressed in a fine red robe, his scaly face, stern and motionless, eyes cold and deep.

  Darken clutched the figurine and stared at the apparition, “You're dead,” he said quietly; my father is dead, killed by an assassin, this is a trick! He held the Man-God tighter in his hand, “You are dead and gone, you have no power over me!” A trick!

  The figure looked back at him, “I am dead but yet I live.”

  While Darken tried to make sense of what he saw and heard; a trick, a projection, a trick.

  The figure spoke again, “The Gods will arise!”

  The Governor closed his eyes; my father is dead, a phantom of the mind. He opened them again, the apparition was gone. He stayed still for a long time, letting his father's words run through his mind. The Gods will arise? What do I care for the Gods, I am one! Words without meaning. He looked down at his hand, there was blood dripping from it, as he opened his fist, he saw the Man-God figurine, had cut deeply into his palm. He held up the ivory carving and smiled, “Let the Gods come, I will be here to greet them,” he said softly; no one can fool a God!

  He put the game piece back into its place, he lay back in his chair; do God’s dream? I dream, therefore so do the Gods! He was soon asleep.

  Andra had been walking in the dark streets for some time, she had been stopped once, by a very drunken Talsonar, who asked if she would go to his hut with him. He was willing to offer her two shell necklaces and a cup of his best wine. It was a good offer to a Sin-Craver but the Andra turned him down.

  Now and then, she came across one or more of the tribe's warriors but she hid her face and passed them by unnoticed. She walked by several seedy gambling dens and riotous drinking taverns.

  She could hear the sounds of revelry and drunken laughter, echoing through the warm night air. She did not feel in the mood for merriment just yet. She was thinking of her home world, one she would most likely, never see again. Even if I did manage to get off this planet, there was little reason to go back. The war was over, lost! My world would be a burnt out cinder, everyone I knew, gone; she thought.

  She tried to hold onto the slim possibility, that some of her people, might have survived, it was a dream with little promise. Even if there were survivors, they would most likely end up as slaves, or in prison camps or exiled. It was better to let the past go and look to the future; what future was there here? I am not a Nomad no matter what name they give me. This is not my home and it will never be my home.

  The more she thought about it, the more depressed she became, her brave marching songs, soon turned to dirges for the dead. She bowed her head, no longer hearing anything but the sadness of her heart. She kept walking not caring where she was going, all the while, thinking of her dead home world and all the people she could no longer see.

  Andra turned a dark corner and came face to face with two Hal-Jafar soldiers, before she could stop, she bumped into one of them. He was a fat Talsasion, with a deep scar across his face. Before she could walk away, he grabbed her by the arm.

  “Watch where you are going,” he grumbled, “Didn't know we are Hal-Jafar? We will kill you and eat your heart.”

  Andra pulled her arm away and looked at the fat man, “It looks like you’ve been eating far too many hearts lately.” She spoke without thinking, she was not a soldier on leave anymore and this was not, just another run in with the Peacekeepers.

  The other Hal-Jafar was a Bolbec, they were known for their large appetites and cruelty. This one, had one good eye and his nose had been partially cut off. He moved close to her, pulling back her hood, he saw she was not a city dweller, “Who are you Outlander?” He grabbed her arm again, Andra had never liked being manhandled and she was in no mood for diplomacy. Before she could stop herself, she struck the fat Bolbec in the face hard, “I’m a soldier of the Selcarie!” she screamed.

  The Bolbec staggered, then went down like a stone. The other Hal-Jafar, reached for his weapon, Andra moved back and pulled out her Dragons-teeth, “You will be sent to the power stations for this!” he screamed. With a heavy mace in his thick hand, he came at her.

  In an instant the fight was on, the soldier was strong but Andra was fast. She moved aside from a blow that would have smashed her skull to pulp, she moved in close, driving one of the daggers, into the Talsasion's protruding belly.

  He gave out a long groan but did not go down, he turned around and struck again, the blow missed Andra’s head by a fraction. It gave her enough time, to swing up onto the fat man's back. It was difficult because of the long robe she was wearing but she managed to wrap her long legs around the man's waist, then she drove her other dagger deep into his thick neck.

  The Hal-Jafar, went down, like he'd been struck by a Nomad's war-ax, Andra pushed the heavy body away and stood up. The other soldier was starting to revive, the sound of the fight was drawing others to the alleyway. She decided to retreat, leaving her daggers behind, quickly she walked away.

  Inside the King's meeting tent, the trading had gone well. Agart had been the main negotiator and Arn was glad, his brother was much smarter and better at trading than he. Agart had driven a hard bargain, the Nomads had gotten practically everything they wanted. Tamar-Ran was also very pleased, Darkens first order, was to secure the Grana and that he had done. It was going to cost them a bit more but it was still an acceptable trade. Now they were ready to seal the bargain.

  “Then it is agreed, you will have three new Disruptors and one new field cannon, with ammunition. There will also be twelve full wagons of supplies. In exchange, we will get the wagons of Grana.” The Lion-man held out his hairy hand to the King; it is a fair trade, these Nomads know their worth.

  Arn turned to his brother, “Have the wagons taken to the city, as soon as we have the weapons,” then he took Tamar-Ran's hand, “We have a trade!” A fair-trade.

  The Nomads and Talsonar in the tent, erupted into cheers, it had been a long negotiation but now it was over and time to celebrate.

  Ran looked at Arn, “You are a young King but you know how to trade, now I think it is time we enjoyed ourselves, over a tall tankard of beer.”

  “Bring more beer and meat,” the King shouted, “Tell the Elders, our stay here is done.” It was a fair trade, the tribe will be satisfied.

  The King and Tamar-Ran, lay back on the soft pillows lying on the woven rug, inside the tent. The Nomads and the Talsonar soldiers, were more relaxed, now the trade was settled. Their work was over and like all warriors, they began to laugh and tell stories of their deeds and battles.

  There was one person in the tent, who was not happy, Anais sat in a corner, brooding over his beer and wishing he was back in Soffca's tent. He did not care about trading or much else, now he'd found some
peace in the Handmaiden's arms. He was about to slip away quietly, when Agart came over to him.

  He was pleased with himself, because the trading had gone so well and was smiling broadly, “So my little brother, I hear you have been speaking with the Gods, tell me what they say to you?”

  “Nothing you would like to hear,” he replied sourly; leave me alone my brother.

  “Come now brother, the Gods speak only the truth and the truth is always good to hear.”

  Anais just looked at his older sibling; go back to your King and leave me alone! He spoke without emotion, “They say, Arn is not a King of the Almadra!”

  When Agart heard those words, his smile disappeared and he clenched his teeth hard, “If you were not my brother and a Prince of the Madrigal, I would break your neck here and now! Never let me hear you speak those words again!”

  Anais got up and looked at his angry brother, he made a half smile but anyone could see, he meant what he said, “Forgive me my brother, I have drunk too much Marsh-beer and my head is not my own.”

  He turned and left the tent, Agart watched him go; he has drunk too much beer, yes, he has drunk too much. He took a long drink from his cup and said nothing more.

  Seeda and Almec had walked some distance from Nomad's camp, they wanted to be alone, they found an old trading ship hull, half buried in the sand and overgrown with vegetation. They drove away a few, sleeping Burrow-babies and a nest of Night-fliers, then found a safe spot to sit.

  Seeda looked around to make sure they were alone. She took out her trading pouch and the red Ice crystals. She held one of them up and looked at it in the moonlight, “How can such a small thing bring so much pleasure?”

  “You should destroy it before it destroys you.” Almec put his hand on her shoulder, “There are many pleasures the Gods give to us, we do not need a crystal to find them.” I will give you pleasure, you need only ask.

  Seeda kept looking at the crystal in her hand, it seemed to almost glow with a soft light, “Isarie gave us Grana, the crystal of life, perhaps this crystal, will show us what life holds?” Other Worlds? I want to see those worlds.

  The young warrior looked at Seeda and spoke softly, “Our lives are enough for me, we have the land and the air and the ways of our tribe. Let us return to those ways and leave all else behind, remember the stories of the Sin-Cravers and how they lost their souls to the darkness.”

  “Those are tales to frighten children,” she said, shaking her head, “Are we children or are we warriors?” Almec thought it over for a moment or two, “We are children of the Gods, we must follow in their footsteps.” Isarie leads the way and we must follow, I must save her.

  Seeda understood what he was saying but she could not bring herself to throw the forbidden Ice away. She looked up, through a rip in the rotting hulk of the ship, she could see clearly, the face of the small moon, Eka. “Eka follows her brothers and sisters through the heavens, would she do so if she had a choice?” She looked at the red crystal again, “We are free and must make our own choices.” Other Worlds! She put the Ice into her mouth and swallowed.

  Almec closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to Isarie, “Forgive us for we do not hear your words and do not see your face, we travel without your light, in lands filled with darkness.” I must travel with her, forgive me Isarie. He reached over and took one small crystal, then put it into his mouth, he waited.

  At first Seeda felt nothing, she was sure the robe merchant had cheated her. She was about to get up, intending go back to his trading stall, then make him pay for his dishonesty, when she felt a sudden warmth inside her.

  It was like she had just finished a bowl of warm Hagar soup, a pleasant feeling, it seemed to drive all fear or envy or discussion, out of her mind. If this was all Ice had to offer, it was very little, a good cup of Po, would do the same thing.

  Seeda looked at Almec, there was laughter in her voice, “I think I made a bad trade but then again, it was not a very good Robox root.”

  They both started to laugh.

  Almec also felt the warmth, it was not what he thought would happen; maybe Seeda was right? Maybe all the stories of red crystals, were just tales to frighten children? “I think I shall go with you and make sure he returns your necklaces,” he laughed.

  They both laughed again. Warmth!

  It filled their stomachs then their lungs, it was like breathing in the warm air of the Salgar dunes, it moved up their spines and into their limbs, they had never felt such warmth before. It seemed like a creature of fire, was growing inside them, taking over their bodies and awakening feelings, the warriors never knew were there.

  Seeda looked up at the moon, Eka again and when she did, she saw it like never before, every crater, every small shadow, seemed to fill her eyes with wonder and joy. She could feel the tiny moon, moving through the heavens, singing a song that none but the Gods could hear.

  The song seemed to her, the sweetest, she ever heard, then as she looked down at her own hands, she saw every line, every tiny texture that marked her skin. She opened and closed her fingers slowly, it seemed, she was holding the universe in the palm of her hand. She looked at Almec, sitting beside her, she was filled with a desire, she never knew existed. He seemed to fill her, with a lust that beat in her heart and in her head, until she thought she would surely die, if she did not possess every inch of him.

  More warmth!

  Almec also felt the lust, he knew he loved Seeda but this was beyond love, beyond anything he'd ever felt before. He saw her face like never before, her dark eyes were no longer eyes, they were windows into her soul, a gateway, he longed to enter and once inside, he would never leave again.

  She reached over and touched his hand, when she did, an electric pulse raced up her arm and made her gasp. It was like putting your hand into fire but not being burned. She seemed to hear his soul, whispering to her, it told her of endless nights, locked together in an embrace that would hold the galaxy in their arms. She listened to his soul calling her, like time calls to eternity, a call that whispered of all life and all death, she listened with every fiber of her being and she answered back.

  She leaned over and took him into her arms, then her world became a place of complete joy and fulfillment, there was nothing else in the universe now, only two bodies that became one. Other Worlds.

  At that moment, Almec did not care about the Gods or the Laws of the Madrigal. All he cared about, was the warm lips of his one true love and the soft words she uttered, calling him to her arms.

  Overhead, the moons of Gorn, moved silently through the heavens. They did not feel, or think, or understand the ways of those tiny creatures, who lived out their lives on the planet below. Hate and love, was something only the Gods understood.

  Osh had looked everywhere for Endo, he knew nothing of tracking. Although a Sandjar's feet are very distinctive, he would never find him by following his footprints. Also, there were thousands of people moving back and forth, in the pyramid city, so there would be nothing to follow. He was in one of the many narrow streets, near the trading stalls, he decided to sit for a moment, to think things over.

  He wished he'd brought his writing ink and some softened Rimar skins, to make calculations but he'd left them back at the camp. He picked up a stick lying nearby and began making rough graphs in the sand, it did not take him long, to come up with some basic facts. He estimated the speed of a young Sandjar, then crossed referenced it, with the amount of space he would have to cover, to ensure a successful outcome to his search. He put in a rough guess, at how many people were in or near the Pyramid City and finally, the length of time it would take, to check every possible hiding place, that Endo might find.

  When all his calculations were complete, he sat back to check his results, he dropped the stick. By his reckoning, he would have to spend far more years, than he had left, to find his son. He got up slowly and was about to return to his wagon, when he heard someone cry out, “Sandjar!” Quickly, he followed the cries, fo
rgetting the odds against him.

  Egmar had been sitting quietly inside her tent, looking at items in an ornate box, it was the ancestor chest, kept by all Almadra. The Outlanders always traveled with these chests, they were a most cherished item. This one, was delicately carved from dark wood and inlaid with ivory and gold, a box fit for a Queen.

  The Queen had taken some small artifacts, out of the box, she spread them over a colorful prayer rug. She picked up each one, remembering where she had acquired it. There was an ivory hairpin, with a large blue stone set with gold, it was the first gift, Karn had given to her. She remembered, he traded a very large Rimar horn for the pin, it was a bad trade. The horn was worth far more, than an ivory pin, even with a gold setting. She had seen the pin and Karn knew she wanted it. He swallowed his pride and gave the merchant what he asked.

  She picked up a small tooth, it was the first tooth, her eldest son had lost as a child. How he cried when she pulled it out, he soon forgot his pain, when she sung him a cradle song, he liked.

  Next she held up a small hand carved stone, in the shape of a woman, the Goddess Isarie. Agart had fashioned the idol, from a piece of green rock crystal. It had taken him a very long time, because of the mineral's hardness but he did it. He gave it to her, on the day of rebirth. She placed the figure on the rug and took out another object.

  This one was a clay, trouble vessel, the Nomads placed their worries into the clay pot, then offered it to the Gods, with a prayer for guidance and mercy. She had given it to Anais as a young warrior, Egmar had always known, his soul was wandering in darkness. He never used the pot, so the Queen kept it for him, in case he ever needed it.

  Last came a small wooden ax, it belonged to Seeda, her father had carved it for her and she played with it as a little girl, pretending she was a great warrior of the Almadra. Egmar remembered how proud she was, when she first mounted a Whiptail and rode beside her father and brothers. She was truly a child of Isarie and a daughter to be thankful for.

  The Queen placed the items before her, then closed her eyes, as she did, she seemed to hear voices, far away voices, calling out in pain and sorrow, she could not understand the words, only the sadness in their cries.

  She opened her eyes quickly and looked around her tent, there was nothing there, only the soft glow from burning torches and the echoes of memories.

  In the Holy Tent, Obec was reading the words of Isarie, she looked down at the heavy book. She felt the tooled Rimar skin covers and ran her hands over the golden insignia on its cover. She had read it a thousand times and would read it a thousand more, she knew every word by heart and the pages of the book, seemed as familiar as her own face. As she read the words, she knew, the Gods would reward her devotion in the next life and it always gave her pleasure, to speak the words of her creator.

  She looked down at the worn pages of the great book and spoke to herself in soft measured words. “The chosen of the Gods, will know that life comes from below, it rises up and is drawn to the heavens, as water is drawn from the soil. To all things I give you power but the paths of the Gods, are known only to them.”

  The old woman closed her eyes and let the words sink into her mind; the paths of the Gods are known only to them and to me.

  She heard a voice, “Do the Gods hear your words?”

  Turning round, she saw a tall man dressed in a dark robe, his face could hardly be seen in the tent's dim light but it was scarred and his eyes seemed to glow with a dark fire. He stood in the shadows, looking at her, like a demon from the Pit.

  “I have been expecting you,” she said calmly,

  The tall man laughed under his breath, “Have you? Do the Gods tell you what they say, to others than The Chosen? Perhaps they tell you lies and you tell them truths.”

  The old woman was in no mood for a religious debate. She got up off her knees and sat down in her chair, then looked at her guest, “Have you spoken to Darken?”

  The Darkman stepped forward, “Yes, he is making ready his army,” he said softly, “but it will be some time, before it is strong enough.”

  “How long?” she asked.

  “After the Burning Time,” he answered.

  After the Burning Time? The Gods move slowly but they move; she thought.

  The dark robed man, turned to look at the surrounding statues, “Do you really believe in these myths and legends?”

  Obec stood up and came over to him, “The Gods do not like to be mocked, they will punish you.” If the Gods do not, then I will!

  The Darkman slowly pulled back his cloak, exposing his face to the High Priestess, “They already have.”

  The old woman could hardly look at the man's face, it was horrific. The skin was eaten away and in places, the bone of his skull, could be seen. His teeth were sharp and stained, his nose was all but gone. The most frightening thing about him, was his eyes, they were dark lifeless eyes, the eyes of a dead man. There was no hint of a soul behind them, it was like looking into a dark cave, where an evil monster lived.

  Obec turned away from him and walked to the golden God, “The ways of the Gods are strange to you but in time you will know their mind.” As I do.

  The Darkman started to laugh, an evil laugh, without any sign of pleasure, “Do not speak to me of Gods, they mean little to me and I mean nothing to them. I know what lies in your heart old women, so do not talk to me of impudent deities. I make my life and travel my own path.”

  He came closer to her and took a small carved figurine from his robes, he handed it to the High Priestess, “A present for your Queen, when the time is right, she will give you what you want.” Someday she will give me what I want.

  The old woman looked at the ivory carving, a child’s toy, a plaything mothers gave to their children; why would he give this to me? “What has this to do with Egmar?” she asked.

  Again the Darkman laughed, “If the Gods speak to you, ask them,” he turned to leave, “You will not see me again, until after the Burning Time, make sure everything is ready.” He pulled the black robe up over his head again and with a flourish, vanished into the shadows.

  The High Priestess, stood looking at the small toy, outside she could hear the laughter of the Almadra but to her, it felt like a cold hand touching her heart.