Nomads of the Gods

by Gary Mark Lee

  Chapter 41. Rebirth

  The planet designated as Gorn has reached apogee with Karus and is now continuing along its orbit away from the Star. Atmospheric levels will soon be within acceptable levels and cargo Dropships can commence landings. The exiles from the takeover of the Corgas system Planets will be collated and shipped to central docking, then processed for extradition. Profits from the shipments will be used to offset the losses sustained by the destruction of Light-ship 796571-A; due to the mutiny against Captain Ugro, by his second in command Commander Tog.

  Report to the Markin Alliance file number 8865bvn-3.

  The great sun Karus of the Gornian system bid farewell to its brother Micos. They had come together in a fiery embrace and filled the heavens with the blaze from their meeting, now they drifted apart and the fires slowly died.

  Gorn and her small companion sun had reached apogee with the great star and felt the heat from their meeting. Now it was time for it to continue on its journey into the outer heavens and where it would find peace and rebirth.

  Three times the earth shook, each time stronger than the last. There were none to see the damage, the fire burned everything that fell to the ground. Unlike previous quakes, these came from the far side of the planet, doing little damage to the Pyramid Cities or the Nomad homelands. Their lands still shook and if any Outlander had been awake, they would have fallen to their knees and prayed to the Gods for mercy.

  There were many Gods known to the Outlanders, Gods of Land, Sea, and Air and above them all was Isarie the Goddess of wisdom and truth. It was her children who were born Gods and Goddesses and she gave them power over the heavens, through all time and space.

  Lesser Gods than Isarie were; Solus, Atos, Horcon, Arm-Ra, Shawcona and other deities who made up the Pantheon of The Chosen. Each had a purpose and each had their time and place.

  Krylas the God of Fire, whose time was now past, he would sleep in the furthest reaches of the Pit of Marloon. There his breath would send flames to torture the souls condemned for their sins

  Now it was the time of Krylas twin sister, Dietas the Water Goddess, to lift her water jug and pour her gift of life down from the heavens.

  Dietas ruled the Waters of Gorn, the Sea People prayed to her for protection against the monsters of the deep and the storms from the North. Only she could bring new life to the scorched Outlands.

  The fires covering the lands of Gorn burned out, when they were gone, the once bright sky turned blue. Then they filled with clouds and the rains began, they came down in torrents, great veils of life giving water. The rivers filled and overran their banks, water cut new paths over the land, washing away landmarks that once stood proudly. Dried lakes were no longer barren pits devoid of all life, the water rose in them and the creatures that had once inhabited them, returned from the earth.

  The mighty forests in the East would heal, the blazing fire had burned away the old and weak. New trees would take their place, seeds that lay in the dark soil would break open and the promise of life that lay within would be fulfilled.

  The rain-washed down the Mountains of Kresh into the Great Plains of Darmock. The baked earth drank deeply of the offering from the sky, soon green shoots broke into the sunlight and the small creatures that fed upon them began to live once more. The water, cut new canyons, into the Pass of Moke, while others crumbled into rock and sand. The rain flooded the Sirolian plains and turned the parched earth into a land of rolling grass and quenched the Earth-shaker's thirst.

  The Jungles of Yug were no longer wilted, they were filled with great layers of mist and steam, then they began to grow once more. The leaves returned to the great trees and the cries of the Galu filled the air, all the terrible creatures of this haunted land once more began their never-ending cycle of life and death. It had been that way for untold ages and would continue that way for ages to come.

  The Leviathans rose up from the dark depths of Orgon, the Western Sea and swam unchallenged through the emerald waves. These great monsters of the oceans were the largest living thing on the planet, far larger than the titanic Earth-shakers. While the Shakers ruled the land, the Leviathans ruled the sea, it was their domain and they guarded it against all who dared sail upon it.

  The Sea People would soon emerged from their caves and sail out in their wind ships to the far off islands, only spoken of in legends of their kind. They were the only people who understood the monstrous Leviathans and knew how to survive on the rolling waves of the uncharted seas.

  The water cooled the sands of the Salgar dunes and the machine strewn lands of Omargash. The Great Dome stood against the onslaught of rain and wind, some of its stone cracked and a few columns broke and fell. It would still be there for the next joining and echo to the sound of the Mating Drums.

  The rains would continue for many days and nights, now there would be nights. The burning sunlight that once always filled the sky would now give up its hold and let the darkness live once more. The creatures of the night could now come out to start their lives anew, as they had for millennia.

  Soon the clouds would part and the rain would stop, then the sunlight would dry the land. The time of rebirth would come and the great beasts would awaken and with them the Nomads of the Outlands.

  Arn opened his eyes, he was next to Andra. He did not move, for a brief moment, he was about to whisper a prayer of thanks to Isarie for his rebirth. Then he remembered his own words. No more Gods. He opened his mouth and drew in a great lung full of air, he held it for a time then let it out in a long sigh of life.

  I am alive; he thought; I have been reborn.

  He sat upright carefully, the Crystal Spider's cocoon was gone, some thin strands of gossamer still clung to his chest and legs. He stretched his arms, clenched his fists, feeling the power coursing through his body. Any weakness that an Outlander had before the Burning Time was now forgotten. There was no more pain, old wounds, the injuries to his wrists by the Shadow-men were gone, only a small scar marked the place where the iron spikes were driven into his flesh.

  He smelt the air in the cave and knew, which creatures had once made it their home. He could hear a Night-flier beating its wing gently in the darkness, tasting the air for signs of a nearby enemy. The cave was silent, there was only a faint glow from the Starfall covering the walls.

  The Crystal Spiders had returned to their homes in the bowels of the earth and would not come out again until the fires from the sky summoned them. Where they had gone or how they survived no one knew, it was a secret known only to the Spiders and the Gods.

  Arn turned to Andra, sleeping next to him, he looked at her face. He could see the Spiders had not forsaken her, all signs of fatigue and worry were gone, her features soft and pure. Her lips parched by the sun, were now moist and full, her hair had grown long and hung down over her soft breasts in a dark wavy cascade.

  She was naked still but for a few strands of Spider's web, her skin was pale and smooth. The scars that once marked her limbs were now faded and could hardly be seen. As Arn gazed upon her, he knew, the name he had given her was the right one. Moonbud; he thought; a delicate flower that blooms in the dark. He leaned over and kissed her lips, then he watched as she opened her eyes.

  Andra could not remember where she was or how she got there. As she looked up at the glowing moss on the cavern ceiling, she thought she was back home. Its light reminded her of the soft candle glow, she used to read by when she was a girl. For a moment she expected to hear her mother’s voice, calling from another room, to put out the light and go to sleep. She knew her home was only a memory. Stiffly, she sat up. “Where are we?” she asked in a weak voice.

  Arn put a hand on her arm, “We are in the Hollow Hills, we have been reborn.”

  Andra heard him but did not understand, she looked down at her body and saw she was naked but she did not cover herself. Somehow it felt right to her, “Reborn?” she asked, “did we die?”

  Her lover shook his head, “No, we did not die, the Crys
tal Spiders have given us their gift of renewal.”

  Hearing the word spider, made Andra suddenly cover herself with her hands. “Spiders, where, I don’t see them?”

  “They are gone now, they have given us new life and now they return to the darkness.”

  Then Andra remembered the childhood story and the images of the underworld. “The Soul keeper, the gentleman frog, they were all phantoms?”

  Arn nodded, “Yes, I could not let you face the spiders with fear, they do not come to the weak, so I gave you Boda to soften your mind to welcome the lurkers.”

  Arn rose and took Andra's hand, he pulled her to his side, for a moment he held her and she held him.

  Andra felt something strange, she realized she could hear his beating heart, she had done so before when they lay together near the Eye of Isarie. Now it was different, she could hear every beat as clear as she could hear a lake bird calling in the morning light. She turned her head to listen to the sounds of the cave, it was no longer silent. She could hear every noise, every drip of water and every movement of the Night-fliers, roosting in the darkness of the cavern. She looked down to see a small Rock-runner near her foot, the rustling of its tiny feet were like the stomping of a Trofar's hoof to her ears.

  She touched Arn's body and it felt like she had never touched him before, her fingers sensed the blood moving under his skin, it felt like a great river. It was almost as if she could hear each tiny cell racing through the millions of capillaries throughout his body. She felt every ripple of his muscles, every line on his skin, she could feel it all. It was like she had never been fully awake until now, a dreamer in a dream. As she listened to the world around her she understood the gift she had been given.

  “Wonderful,” she whispered to herself, “wonderful.”

  Arn looked deep into her eyes, “You are the first outsider to receive the gift of rebirth, in doing so, I have broken one of the most sacred laws of Isarie and our tribe. There is nothing for me now, only you.”

  There was one gift she would not know, the love of a mother for her child, the tiny infant taking hold in her body was gone. Whether it had died or been born she did not know, there was nothing to mark its birth but for a small crystal substance on the ground where she'd laid, the child was nowhere to be found. There hadn't been a mating between a Nomad and an Off-Worlder before and only the Gods knew the nature of their offspring.

  Andra took Arn into her arms and they kissed, a kiss like she'd never felt before, her whole being seemed to merge with her lover's. For a moment the world stopped, there was no time or space, no yesterday or tomorrow, no past or future, no laws or Gods, there was nothing, just the kiss. When they parted, she found herself in the arms of her love and she wished it could go on for all eternity.

  She heard noises as Osh emerged from his sleep, she watched him lift himself up from the hard ground and rub the sleep from his eyes. When he'd finished, he realized he was naked.

  “Strange,” he said scratching his large head, “I seem to have misplaced my clothes.”

  Andra had to laugh, as she looked on. “Don't worry, I’ll help you find them.”

  They looked for their clothes, Osh knew that something had changed. The weakness he had felt in his limbs for so long was now gone. Replaced by a strength, he had not known since he was young. It was not just the energy in his body but also the power in his mind, a mind reborn, rejuvenated, a mind that would know, it was truly wonderful.

  I have been made anew; he thought; the spiders, the spiders did this, somehow they have the power to regenerate tissue.

  He felt his mind waking up, looking in on itself, knowing more than it should, he remembered the dream and the voice. The images and the knowledge given to him as he slept, there was more than he understood. The images had no meaning, there was no Mind-say to give him understanding, it would take time to put such things into words. Soon there would be answers to all the questions that could be asked.

  “I found your robe,” Andra said.

  The old man turned to see her holding up a dirty robe covered in webs, he nodded, “Thank you,” he said. Taking the garment from her hand, he began to cover himself. He thought about the images from his sleep and they flooded back into his waking mind, he tried to make sense of them. No answers now; told himself; perhaps there never will be.

  A short time later, the companions were ready to return to the sunlight.

  “Our sleep is over,” Arn said, as he adjusted his dusty armor. “The Burning Time is over and the darkness in no longer our home.” The demons did not come, perhaps they wait for a better time.

  Andra took one last look around, Orin, the Soul keeper, it was only a dream.

  Without any words, they began their return to the sunlight and the renewed World of Gorn.

  Far to the North the tribe of the Almadra was also rising.

  Once more The Chosen of the Gods had been reborn, the warriors were strong and the children who used to be safe in their mother’s arms were now the protectors of the tribe. Their bodies now tall and strong, the days of playing games were over, they would ride their own Whiptails and Spike-backs and live and die for their tribe.

  The mothers of these new warriors did not grieve over the passing of their children, they understood. They had new life to fill their days, the females who had mated under the Breast of Isarie now held children in their arms.

  They were not babies, they were able to walk and with very little time they would be talking as well as any of the Almadra. Each child had a brother or sister, all offspring of the Outlanders were twins, two exact duplicates of themselves, each one strong, each one a future warrior. On rare occasions they would bear more than two, sometimes there would be two sets of twins. The young would learn, they would be taught the ways of the tribe, they would listen to the stories of their wise ancestors and hear the words of the Goddess. The Book of Isarie would be their guide for they were The Chosen of the Gods.

  As soon as Obec was able, she ordered her Handmaidens to begin gathering up the Tral, Black Grana, the residue left after a Nomads rebirth. The dark crystals were a deadly poison and would be put to use very soon. The Handmaidens followed the will of the Holy Woman and carefully pick up each and every grain from the great cave's floor.

  Obec herself made sure the Tral was collected and put into an ebony chest, then placed in the moving Shrine of the Goddess. The enormous wagon was cleaned and made ready for the journey to come. The statues and icons were washed with Holy water and fires lit from a torch that had remained alight throughout the long days of the Burning Time. As Obec looked into the Sacred Flames she was not thinking of Isarie, her mind was filled with vision of the days to come. The time has come; she thought; I will cleanse the lands of the unbelievers. I will do what must be done. Staring into the flickering light she saw a vision that made her cold heart fill with warmth.

  Fire and steel.

  The Thungodra did their work and prepared themselves, they polished their armor and sharpened their weapons, then they looked to the Holy Mother for guidance. They'd guarded the High Priestess throughout the Burning Time and would protect her in the days to come.

  Several had not been reborn but they did not sing songs to their memory, they were buried with their armor and weapons. They knew the dead warriors would now be standing at the door to the Great Golden Hall, making sure none but The Chosen could enter.

  Anais was glad to awaken from his sleep, he dreaded the Burning Time. He was always afraid he would not awaken or that the Crystal Spiders would carry him off to the Pit of Marloon, there his tortured soul would burn for all time. He'd found some comfort in the fact that Soffca had lain by his side and when he had opened his eyes it was her face he saw. It made him feel safe and for the first time in his sad life, it made him feel wanted, it made him feel loved.

  Not all the Nomads awoke from the sleep of rebirth, some would not feel the sun on their faces again. They were the Al-Margin, the givers of life, their bodies had gone
, all that remained was Tran, the Crystals of Life. The spider's bite sometimes killed rather than renewed, Nomads who died this way, were considered blessed by the Gods. Their death would bring new life to the person who consumed the crystals, prolonging life and holding off death. Obec made sure all the Tran was given to her, what she did with the crystals was her secret.

  The great cave became alive once more, the sound of laughter and songs of joy filled the air. The warriors opened the massive metal doors and let in the soft fragrant air, which smelt of budding Balbar trees and Meadow-cane. Also, the saffron essence of the Kasha-wheat, growing in fields far to the South and flowers of the Grassland's.

  The Whiptails were set free to roam the newly green pastures, to feed upon newborn Rimar and drink their fill from running streams, coursing over the land like fingers of life. The Spike-backs and Trofar were also allowed to wander at will, they would be watched over by the warriors and called back by the signal horns when the Nomads were ready to travel. Before then there was much to be done and plans to be made.

  The wagons would have to be cleaned and repaired, new wheels and harnesses made. The hunters would bring many Rimar and their meat dried and stored for the days and weeks ahead. The Iron worker's forges would be busy making new armor and weapons. The Elders would be teaching the new born young to speak and understand the ways of a Nomad. Everywhere there would be prayers to the Goddess for the gift of new life.

  Not all the Nomads were happy to awake from their sleep, when Agart opened his eyes he saw only darkness. It was not the darkness of night, it was the darkness of his mind. The long sleep that had given him rest was over, he was back in the world of the living, a world he no longer cared for, a world that no longer cared for him.

  Try as he might, he was unable to drive the haunting faces of his brother and mother from his mind. They were always there, always accusing him, always asking questions that he could not answer. He looked out at his people and saw only a burden he no longer wished to carry. If only I could sleep once more; he thought; if only I could sleep.

  In the great caves west of the Hollow Hills the People of the Darkness were also waking.

  The long nightmare was over, the dark dreams that filled their sleep ended and another nightmare began. They had survived the Burning Time and their bodies were given new life and strength by the creatures that rose up from the bowels of the earth but it was only a half-life.

  While new strength was inside them, they still bore the marks of death and decay on the outside. Their faces, were ones of horror and their eyes did not shine with the joy of life. As they moved about in the dark tunnels and caverns of the Poison Lands, they did not sing or prayed to the Gods for thanks.

  The females gave birth to one small child and many died without opening their eyes. Rather than feeling sorrow their mothers felt joy, they would be spared the horror of life. They would not have to watch their bodies slowly decay in the darkness and listen to their mothers crying in the night. Those who lived were pitied for theirs was a life that only waited for death.

  When Egmar opened her eyes she did offer a prayer but it was not for herself, it was for the people she now called her children. When she touched her face, she did not weep for her lost beauty, she gave thanks to Isarie for allowing her to follow her teachings. She was joyful that the Goddess had smiled upon her and given her the gift of life.

  She dressed herself in the dark robes of the Shadow-men and walked the dim corridors of the underground, giving hope and easing the suffering of the weak where she could. Her son was nowhere to be found and when she asked, she was told nothing of where he had gone or why. She might be Queen of the Dark People but some secrets were still beyond her power.

  As she walked the dim corridors and watched the scarred faces of the old and young, she heard them call her mother. Hearing those words made the pain in her limbs vanish and a new strength filled her heart.

  I will do what I can; she told herself; if I am to die perhaps Isarie will forgive my weakness and let me lay beside Karn once more?

  Egmar was not sure if the Goddess heard her prayer, the underworld was not the home of the Almadra and the Book of Isarie forbade a Nomad from entering that dark realm. Perhaps there was a path to the light above and her words would find their way into the heavens. It was enough to give the Queen hope and to let her continue to bring hope to the Forgotten of the Gods.

  Far from the Poison Lands the city of the Talsonar were also coming alive.

  The Stone City had withstood the fires, the rain and the ground quakes, it lifted itself up again and the levels opened to let in the sweet air and soft sunshine. The mighty beacon began to flash once more and the land, around it, filled with activity.

  The people of the city came out to walk the lands and feel the newly greened earth under their feet. There was dancing and singing and all manner of joyfulness, they had endured the Burning Time and now they reveled in their survival. It was the one time when the Hal-Jafar let them run free, when there were no laws and no Gods to look down on them, they could feel free.

  They played and shouted to the sky, they ran naked and mated in a frenzy of pent up passion. They fought and even spoke out against the Overlords and the High-breeders. They ate their fill because they knew the land would soon be full of Rimar and all the gifts of the Gods, they were free, free to live.

  Freedom is just sand in your hand, you may hold it for a time but it will soon slip from your fingers and vanish in the power of the winds.

  High above the laughter of the people, Governor Darken looked down on his Kingdom. He stood naked, gently rubbing the metal plate in his head, it had been troubling him lately and his night dreams had not been pleasant. He had seen his father again, he heard his demanding voice and disapproving eyes. This time he paid no attention to the apparition, he knew it was just his mind playing games, nothing more. After all Gods do not have nightmares, they are for those mortals below.

  So he stood proudly and watched the tiny creatures scurrying below and he smiled; so small, he thought. I wonder how the universe looks from the City of the Gods?

  He turned away from his chamber window and looked at the bed in the center of the ornate room. On it were several naked young bodies, fresh and unspoiled, bodies that did as they were told.

  I wonder if the Gods have Gods? He asked himself; and if they do, do those Gods pray to even more powerful beings? The plate in his head began to pain him and he forgot about higher Gods. He decided to think of things to which, he knew the answers. He remembered Osenna, she was a wonderful toy, so willing, so delightful, so small.

  Osenna was there no longer, the Ice crystals had begun to take their toll on her perfect body and her mind. At the first sign of any flaw, the Governor had thrown her away, he cast her off like a dirty robe or marred shoe. She was replaced by another, when her time came, she too would be discarded. To Darken there was no other way, after all a God must have perfection. For a few moments, the Governor remembered several wonderful nights spent with Osenna but then he let the images fade, never to be thought of again.

  In the corners of the room stood motionless slaves, they watched their master lay upon the bed, to be covered with the warm flesh of young men and women. They watched him caress their smooth limbs and rub his scaly body against theirs. They stood like statues, not daring to move, or speak, or show any sign of emotion. They would remain there until they were told otherwise, doing nothing until they were summoned, then they would rush to fulfill their master's slightest wish.

  They stood occupied themselves with waking dreams, they dreamed of a world without masters or slaves, without pain or death, without endless toil and misery, although they knew there were no such worlds. They had been told that Darken was a God with the power of life or death and they believed it. Even if they found peace in death, he could summon them back to the world of the living to continue their life of servitude. So they stood hopeless, death would not release them from their misery, it would onl
y be a brief rest from an eternity of pain.