Chapter 37. Sun Song
Sleep in the body of my heart.
Sleep and be reborn.
Let the past fall away.
Let the future begin anew.
Let my strength fill your soul.
From the Book of Isarie.
The Almadra had finally arrived at the Great Cave in the Hollow Hills. The pathway to the entrance was marked with the Dragon Totems of the Almadra, it signaled to all that this was their resting-place and for all others to stay away. It had been this way for ages and would remain so for centuries to come.
The Great Cave lay in the Valley of Tomorrow, it was a vast canyon filled with caves and openings without number. Here the Nomads and the Great Beasts of Gorn came to sleep and remain hidden during the Burning Time. Like the lands of Omargash, the valley floor was littered with bones and pieces of machinery.
Agart was happy to see the rocky path leading up to the cave, he had been troubled since taking the Kingship from his brother. The burdens of leadership had taken a toll on his strength and he was glad that he would be able to rest, if only for a while.
The bridge to the Great Cave lay before him but suddenly he felt weak. All he wanted to do was rush into the darkness and forget the past days, there in the coolness and silence, he would seek an end to his dark dreams. Sleep; he thought; no dreams, only sleep.
He tried not to think of his dreams, lately he dreaded closing his eyes. He did not want to see the things that came in his sleep. Dark evil things, dreams of betrayal and a figure in the night calling his name. Voices, voices of his past and his future, cries of the dying and the living calling his name. Screams that cut through him like a warrior’s ax, screams of his people, the young and the old, voices he could not answer.
He saw visions that he could not understand in a vast land of fire and smoke. A great sound like a million Trofar roaring, the land burning by the hand of men, fire and death, a land of the dead with riders in black moving as the air blazed with flame. Then the sky filled with a rising moon, a moon like no other, a moon that shined from within, the voices of the stars calling his name, then darkness, a darkness that seemed to go on forever, forever.
It was better to remain strapped in the saddle and never close your eyes, than see the things that lay waiting for you. So at the end of the journey he was drawn to the darkness like a Nightflyer at the break of dawn. Sleep, sleep; he thought; if only I could sleep.
“Shall I give the order to enter the cave?” someone asked.
Agart shook his head, then turned to see Kuno sitting astride his Spikeback, waiting for his orders.
“The Trofars, shall I give the order?” he repeated.
Agart cleared his throat and sat up in his saddle, “Yes, have the Trofars brought up and lower the bridge.”
“It shall be done.”
He watched Kuno move back along the column and heard him calling for the drawbridge to be lowering, to the new King it did not matter, all he was thinking of was the darkness and a long dreamless sleep.
It did not take long for the warriors to hook up the teams of Tundra beasts, then lower the massive steel bridge to allow the Almadra entrance to the Great Cave. The bridge itself was centuries old, older than anyone could remember, it was not written in the Book of Isarie. It was surely a gift from the Goddess, for none other than a God could forge such a gate. It protected their resting place from the Outland creatures that would find the cave a perfect home. The bridge in its upright position, made an impregnable barrier to even the strongest creatures. Lowered it served as a path over the natural crevasse that separated the cave from the valley floor, where the tribe now waited.
With Kuno giving the orders, the warriors attached a thick chain to the fulcrum that controlled the lifting mechanism, with a blast from the signal horns, the Trofar began pulling with all their might.
The heavy door began to creak and grind with a sound that made the smaller children hold their mothers close and the Whiptails paw the ground. At first the rusty steel did not move and Kuno called for more Trofar. They were hooked up and again the horns sounded, to the relief of everyone the bridge began to lower and the way was clear for the Almadra to enter the safety of the Hollow Hills. The Trofar went inside and the warriors attached them to another pulling mechanism that hoisted up the drawbridge, once again sealing the Great Cave shut.
The caves were plentiful in the Hollow Hills and this was where the huge creatures of the Outlands came to hide from the Burning Time. Countless herds were now coming to the mountains of Koto-Car, the Great Plains of Gorn were now empty and barren. Over the millennia, the animals that made this world their home came to know, when to leave their pastures and valleys and move into the darkness, there to hibernate until the heat and fire passed. It was their instinct, their way and it was the way of the Nomads.
The Almadra moved into the immense cave, when the last of the wagons were out of the sunlight, the warriors took the Whiptails inside, gathering them together in a separate smaller cave. They gave them all the food and water they could hold, they would need it during their long sleep.
Once the Whiptails were satisfied, their eyes were covered with soft cloth, it was a dangerous task but had to be done. The beasts could smell what was waiting for them in the darkness and if they saw the glowing spiders coming for them, they would fight. With their blindness came calmness, it stopped them harming themselves or breaking free of their surroundings. They had been controlled this way by the Almadra's ancestors and would always be.
The tribe gathered their wagons together and emptied their contents, once again everyone knew what they had to do. It had been done a thousand times before by their ancestors and would be done again by their children, there was no other way, to remain outside would mean certain death.
The tribe ate their fill of dried Rimar and Kasha bread and were satisfied. They put the rest of the food into a rock chamber and sealed it shut with stones and earth so that nothing could be removed.
The Almadra's cave was huge by any standard of the Galaxy, even the Great Underground Vaults on Torlon could not compare in size to those in the Hollow Hills. They could hold all the Outlanders and their beasts and still have room for twice as many. The cave's vaulted ceiling, was supported by massive pillars of green stone and pitted steel. Strewn about were huge rocks, carved into statues of Gods and demons, strange creatures and mythical beings that no one could understand.
Here and there lay broken pieces of machinery and the remains of things long past. Like the machines that lay in far off Omargash and the Poison Lands; they were thought, to be the castoff toys of Isarie. Not being of any use for war or worship, the Outlanders did not trouble themselves with them.
There were wide cracks in the cavern floor, showing even more levels below and below those even more levels. The stairways leading downwards were gone now, it was believed a journey into those forbidden levels would end in the dark Pit of Marloon.
Obec had the moving shrine taken deep into the cave, the huge wagon was placed in an alcove and around it were the Handmaiden's wagons of the and around those the Thungodra. The walls of the alcove were painted with intricate images of Gods and Deities. There were carvings of Isarie showing her holding her Holy Book, surrounded by small figures of The Chosen.
In the corners of the cave were the ancient moving shrines of previous Holy Mothers. They were placed here when the mantel of High Priestess was passed down to another woman who would speak for the Goddess, now, they lay broken and covered in the webs of centuries. Their contents were removed and given to the new Holy Mother, who would in the fullness of time relinquish them to another. The Holy Book and all the other treasures of their beliefs, were handed down to one who would pray to their Gods and worship as their ancestors had done.
The other tribe members began to make ready for their rest, the younger children were washed and given Meadow-cane to eat. They delighted in this treat and did not taste the Boda that their parents had added to
the sweet sticks. Then they were taken to a chamber and told stories about the tribe, songs were sung to make them laugh and smile. When their eyes filled with visions of dancing rainbows and singing Rock-runners, their parents held them in their arms. Together they would wait for the glowing eyes would soon lull them into a trance like state, they would become immobile and enter a comatose state, it would last until the Burning Time had gone. Like wise the Spike-backs and Trofar, they too would sleep through the long cycle of heat and death. They were creatures of Gorn and like all things of the planet, they knew how to survive.
Anais was afraid. He sat huddled in the darkness, he had no one to hold him or sing to him songs. Soffca was with the other Handmaidens at the side of the High Priestess. It was her duty to protect the Holy Mother, surrounding her body with her own but to the Prince it was foolish.
They follow a silly old woman; he thought; she thinks she has me in her hand but soon she will feel my grip. For all his words he was afraid, he did not want to sleep, he hated those little stabs of death but there was no other way. So he crouched in his hiding place and tried not to think of the darkness and his own darker fears.
Far from the Hollow Hills and deep in the caverns of the Poison Lands, Egmar looked down on her people. The Shadow-men stood gazing up at their new Queen, waiting for her to speak. They had gathered in the Dome once more, in their thousands, to listen to the words of their mother and to know, they were not alone.
Egmar stood atop the stone dais that marked the center of the underground chamber. She no longer wore the garments of the Almadra with the markings of her station. They had been replaced with the dark robes of the Outcasts, she still retained the bearing of a noble woman and held her head up.
Next to her, stood her forgotten son, his eyes were fixed on his mother's face. Beside him stood a number of men and women, they were the Guiders, the people who would play a pivotal part in the days to come.
Egmar looked down on the mass of broken bodies, she saw the People of the Shadows' torn faces, they did not speak and their movements were soundless. They were truly creatures of the darkness, this was their home and their world. The land of light belonged to the Nomads but it rested on a place that held a black truth.
The Queen looked down at her hand, she could see, the Poison Lands were taking her away already. The smooth supple skin that once covered her arm was slowly turning hard and pale, the color was fading like a flower left out of the sunlight for too long. She knew it was the price she must pay for staying with the forgotten people but she did not turn her eyes away from her hand. She did not regret her words, she would be a mother to her people and share in their fate.
The Darkman moved to his mother's side, he spoke in a voice only she could hear, “Your children await your words” he said, “the time has come for them to sleep.”
Egmar looked at her son, she could see the weariness and she felt a weakness in her body as well. It was time for sleep, time to rest and let the gentle darkness move through her soul. She turned to those below and saw their eyes, so filled with pain and the need to rest.
They are my children; she thought; they are the children of the darkness now, they have no one to sing to them.
Then she spoke with a voice filled with kindness and the love of a mother for her children, “I will hold you, when the moons of the night sky no longer walk the heavens. I will hold you, when their faces no longer smile upon us. I will hold you, when the Meadow grass no longer grows in the Greenland’s. I will hold you, when you are old and can no longer dance under the stars. I will hold you, when those stars fall from the heavens and all is darkness, I will be there. I will hold you.”
She closed her eyes and lifted her arms, she waited but no words came from the people below, only silence, a silence that hung in the air like a circling Sun-dropper.
They do not understand; she thought; they have lived in the darkness too long, they are no longer children of the light.
Egmar lowered her arms and opened her eyes, she stood for a moment, then looked up at the dim ceiling above, she was afraid to look down. Afraid she would only see rotting faces looking up at her without any sign that her words had reached them. She turned her eyes down and as she looked at faces of the Outcasts from the light, she saw something that made her heart sing, there in their dim eyes she saw, tears.
They are not forgotten, they are still The Chosen; she told herself.
She felt her son's hand on her shoulder and when she looked, she saw the same look in his eyes. He is not beyond my reach. She held out her arms but he did not come to her, instead he walked away to the edge of the dais, “Go now. Go and sleep. When you awaken, it will be a New World, a world that will know our faces and it will know that we are not forgotten!”
Slowly the chamber began to empty of the thousands who once filled it, away into the dark tunnels that fanned out from the center in all directions. They were going into the dark places that would be their homes until the Burning Time was over, then they would travel over the land once more.
Egmar watched them go, her son came to her and took her by the hand, “Come,” he said, without another word, she allowed herself to be taken from the chamber, down a tunnel with a rank heavy smell. Its walls were smooth and wet but it wasn't water or any other substance the Queen had seen before. The light grew dimmer with each step until there was only a glow from the moss that lined the tunnel.
The air grew fouler and there was a faint rattling from the darkness ahead. Egmar knew it was not a sound made by a Nomad hand. It was like pebbles shaking inside a Probax gourd. It was not a sound she liked and it filled her with fear but she did not show it. There is something in the darkness; she thought; but I have made my choice and I shall not turn away.
She continued to hold her head high and walk with the steps of a Queen, the rattling grew more intense and she saw small glowing blood-stones in the darkness. They were not the soft blue glow of Crystal Spiders, this was a hungry light from creatures known only by the People of the Shadows.
As the Queen moved towards the crimson lights, she began to pray, it was a prayer of the Handmaidens, to be sung deep in the Hollow Hills.
I sleep in the earth beyond your sight.
I dream no dreams beyond your light.
I lay in your arms and in your earth.
I sleep and wait for my rebirth.
She was led into the darkness and into the arms of those that lived beyond the sight of the Goddess.
Obec sat in the center of the Great Cave, near to her was the blue crystal spider, it lay upon a rock, carved with markings, meaningless to the Outlanders. To the High Priestess they were as clear as spring water, they were the very words of the Goddess, their meaning was the meaning of all things and the power to do what must be done.
I am the right hand of the Goddess; she thought; I have been sent by her to do her will, I will not fail.
In a circle around the Holy Woman were The Chosen of the Gods, they knelt naked on the ground with their heads towards the Holy Mother and the Handmaidens gathered around her.
Obec wore only a thin garment over her writhed frame, she held a small dagger in one hand and a large crystal of Grana in the other, she spoke so that only those close to her could hear. “Into your hands we give our bodies, into your keeping we give our souls, into your heart we sleep in peace.” She looked at the young women who surrounded her.
The Handmaiden's naked bodies were painted blue, each one held a small golden dagger in their hands. They repeated the words of the Holy Mother swaying gently as they sang the song of rebirth.
The cycle has come and we lay in your arms.
Hold us to your heart and protect us from harm.
We sleep, we sleep, as all the world burns.
We sleep, we sleep as all the world turns.
We will rest in warmth of the quiet earth.
Till the time is done and all is rebirth.
They put crystals of Grana into their mouths, “The Sal
t of the Earth,” they whispered.
Obec smiled. I will not fail.
After the circle of the Handmaidens came the Thungodra, they formed a barrier to the Holy Mother but they did not lie upon the ground. They tied themselves to wooden posts, driven deep into the hard ground, they would permit them to stand as they slept and hold their weapons at the ready. They wore no armor but held their axes in their hands. They covered their bodies with Eul dust so they still appeared to be wearing their dark armor. They watched the darkened corners of the cave, lest they were set upon by demons or a dark creature from the bowels of the earth.
The Elders of the Tribe were next, near them were their family's small ancestor chests and a small bowl of Grana. They spread out colorful woven rugs, used before them by their mothers and fathers and lay down upon them. Each one holding the hand of the person beside them. When the Handmaidens placed the Green Grana into their mouths, they did the same, repeating the words they'd heard.
“The Salt of the Earth.”
Outward from the circle of Elders, lay the male and female warriors who had mated under the Breast of Isarie. They lay next to each other, naked but for their war-axes, held in their hands, the women wore mated rings in their ears. They laid on their armor and rested their heads on their saddles, they still wore their Journey Nails around their necks. Next to them was a tankard of Po, it would not be needed during their sleep but it was a tribal tradition, done by all warriors. They also had an offering of Grana in a small bowl, they took the green crystals and repeated the words of the Elders.
The outer part of the circle was for the King, he sat with the strongest warriors near to the armored wagons holding the precious Grana. They would guard it in their sleep, keeping it safe from any vengeful spirit from the outer darkness.
His warriors could see that their new leader was not the Great Karn nor his son Arn, this Chosen of the Gods was drinking too deeply of Po, he seemed to be in much haste for the darkness.
All this was not lost on Kuno, since his friend Almec had disappeared and Arn had been made Outcast, he'd tried his best to help his people. His usual nights of drinking and carousing, had been replaced by a pledge to do what he could for his tribe. He knew how the sour drink could take a grip and he could see it tightening around their new King.
He'd heard warriors whispering, when they thought no one was listening, talking of a weak King and words against the Holy Mother for casting out a strong leader. It cut into him like a dragon’s tooth, for all his loud talk he loved his people and now he knew they needed him more than ever before.
He had made sure the heavy guns and the Disruptors were sealed and placed in a strong section of the great cave, where they would lay, safe from the fires outside. The ammunition was put as far back into the tunnels as possible. There was very little chance of them being ignited but it was what they had done for centuries. He did not want to play Chance-cards with the lives of his people.
Now he sat near the King, hoping the troubles he saw on his leader's face, would vanish with the rebirth. He could not help but think, how nice it would be if he could spend the Burning Time feasting on juicy Rimar and drinking deeply of barrels of well-aged Po. If one or more of the young Handmaidens wanted to join him, that would be fine with him.
Agart was eager to sleep, his mind had continued to ask questions to which he had no answer. He could not stop the feeling that his brother was waiting for him, waiting in the darkness, waiting to challenge him, waiting to take back his Kingship. As the tribe waited for him to give the command to sleep, he could not find the words. Despite the times he had given advice to his brother, now he searched his mind for a single word he could offer his people in hope for the future.
I wish my father were here; he thought; I wish my brother was not Outcast, I wish... No! I will not wish anymore, I will trust in Isarie, I will place my trust in her alone.
He stood up and looked out over his people, “The time has come for our sleep, it is the Will of Isarie and we are her Chosen. It is written in her book and we shall obey her laws. From this time forward we will be live our lives as the Goddess wishes, from this time forward we are her people. Togasttra emo entralac, give to us your strength.”
As one the people called out, “Togasttra emo entralac, give to us your strength.”
Hearing the King's words, the Warriors took up war-axes and cut their chests, they let the blood flow over them and marked their faces with it. With small daggers that had belonged to their mothers and fathers, the Elders did the same, cutting their bodies and painting their faces with blood. They pricked the children's fingers and marked them also, some young ones cried out but they were held close and their tears, were wiped away by those who loved them.
Obec heard the children but she did not weep for their pain. They will be the strength in the hand of the Goddess; she told herself; they are the lights that will shine in the darkness.
The Handmaidens lifted up their golden daggers and cut their breasts and as the blood from their bodies ran slowly down their slim bodies they prayed.
Blood for the life givers.
Blood for their gift.
Blood for today.
Blood for tomorrow.
The High Priestess cut her wrinkled hand and held the blood in her palm, then she lifted it to her lips and tasted the life of her soul. I will rest now; she thought; I will let the Goddess renew me, then I will rise and the world will rise with me. Then she lay on her back and closed her eyes. Isarie will smile upon me, all who are not The Chosen will die, all who resist me will perish.
Her mind filled with a world of her own making, a world of fire and steel.
Anais held his dagger in trembling hands, he had always feared the darkness. As a boy he would lay close to his mother during the Burning Time but now she was no longer here and there was no one to share the darkness. He tried to summon up the courage to make the cut that would summon the spiders to his side, then he heard Soffca's voice.
“I am here,” she said.
He looked up to see her standing naked before him, she said nothing else and sat down beside him. He watched her take the golden dagger from his hand and make a small cut in his hand, she did the same with her hand and then she took him into her arms.
The young Prince felt her warm body next to his and his fear subsided, he closed his eyes and tried to think of a perfect world, a world without darkness, he pulled Soffca closer.
“Do you love me?” he asked, his voice trembling as he spoke, afraid of the answer but still wanting to know. He saw Soffca's eyes regarding him as if in a soft dream, then she spoke, “Yes.”
It was what he wanted to hear, “Yes, yes you do,” he replied, he said nothing more but held her tightly and together they waited in the darkness.
The Nomads lay on their backs and closed their eyes, there was now nothing more to be done, there was nothing more to be said, there was only the darkness and the glowing orbs that would come to them.
The Crystal Spiders slowly emerged from the deep recesses of the cave, drawn by the blood offering they scurried out of the darkness to feast upon those who gave themselves so freely. The Nomads welcomed them, they felt the warmth of their bites and the softness of their weaving. The Elders whispered prayers to the Gods, while the young warriors gripped their weapons in anticipation of the power of rebirth.
The mated women also thought of the future but their sleep would be far different from that of the men. They were carrying the seed of the days to come, already inside their bodies, the children of their lust were growing. The strength of the tribe, it was the way it should be, it was the way of the Gods.
As the gossamer blankets of the Crystal Spiders slowly covered The Chosen of the Gods, the Handmaidens began to chant verses from the Holy Book. It gave comfort to the people and appeased the Goddess who was watching them. The Almadra repeated their words as they were heard, lest they offend Isarie and wake up from their sleep to find themselves in the Pit of Marloon.<
br />
Two people did not speak the words from the book, one was a young Prince who would not be alone in the darkness, the other was an old woman who whispered to herself until all became silent.
Fire and steel. She told her waning mind; fire and steel.
Nomads of the Gods Page 38
