Chapter 9. The Sky Gods
There are many strange creatures inhabiting the planet Gorn, although many of them have been recorded in such works as. The indigenous creatures of Gorn and their mating habits by V.V.Yar, doctor of Inter Creature Relationships, Otarius Moon. Reptiles of the Outer Rim Planets, by Vardis Cocam. They are far from complete.
For I have seen with my own eyes the monsters that the Nomads call Gods.
From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.
Andra did not sleep in the tent of the King, for the last two nights she slumbered in the shelter of Osh, and the boy who called her mother.
She did this, because she still thought of the young warrior, and the woman who had died at the ritual. She could not look at her mate without seeing their faces. She had witnessed horrible deaths, when she was a soldier of the Salcarie, and had been the cause of many more. That was in a time of war, and she knew, the deaths of the two young Nomads, could have been prevented.
Now she stood outside the tent of the Callaxion and felt the warm morning air on her face, she looked up to see a bright sky with only a few small whiffs of clouds blocking the waking suns. She wore a simple robe of brown woven cloth, there were no necklaces or rings on her fingers. She was never one to adorn herself in girlish attire, and refused to wear the mated rings in her ears that marked her as spoken for. She did however wear the golden Journey-Nail around her neck, for she had proven herself a brave and strong warrior. Not far away lay her Tooth, the deadly war-ax that all defenders of the tribe had, there were no enemies in the oasis, so she stirred the pot of Hagar soup, she had just finished making.
The smell of the warm liquid would have softened the heart of most warriors, it did not seem to have any effect on Andra.
He should have stopped them; she told herself; after all he is the King and Kings should not torture their people. The more she thought about it, the harder she stirred the cooking pot. If he thinks he can kill an innocent woman, then expect me to lay with him he is a fool! The wooden spoon rattled against the rim of the metal pot; a handsome face will not be enough to forgive his mistakes. In her anger she struck the wooden spoon against the side of the pot and it broke.
The Selcarie woman, stood for a moment looking at the frayed end of the utensil, in frustration she threw it to the ground. It’s all his fault that thick headed, narrow minded.... She tried to think of just the right word for what she was feeling she could not, so she just pictured a stubborn Trofar laying in Whiptail droppings. It was enough to satisfy her and she smiled.
She took another spoon and filled to bowls with her soup, then proceeded to enter the tent of her old friend, and the little Sandjar.
Inside she found them laying on their sleeping mattresses with bandaged heads, appearing as if they were asleep.
“Hot soup!” she cried, “get it now or I’ll toss it out”. The sound of her voice, was loud enough to open the eyes of the tent occupants, they sat up with a start.
“What are you shouting about?” The old man asked holding his aching head in his hand, “can't you see, I'm a sick man?”
This made the woman chuckle, “sick? You just got beaten up a little that’s all, now eat some of my soup”.
When the Callaxion heard that Andra had cooked the soup, and not one of the Touchtenders, his appetite suddenly disappeared. “You cooked the soup?” The old man asked tentatively.
“I sure did” Andra said proudly as she handed the steaming bowl to the old man, “and don’t worry my cooking is getting much better”.
Hearing those words did not make Osh optimistic, for he knew, as did all the other members of the tribe, Andra was the worst cook in all the Outlands. It was not from the lack of trying, as much as she wanted to succeeded. She could never get the spices quite right, or the correct balance of fish sauce to Rimar meat, needed for a good bowl of Hagar soup. Still the old man hoped for the best, as he spooned some into his mouth.
Now it was well known that Callaxions were very diplomatic. They had to be, to deal with all the different species, with whom they were put in contact. So when he tasted the woman’s soup, his face did not show, what his pallet knew.
“Its...good”, he said with a half-smile.
Hearing this made Andra very content, “thanks, I thought I might have put in too much Ulon spice”.
“No, no, not at all”, Osh said, forcing a smile onto his wrinkled face, “it is thoroughly delectable”.
Hearing this she was eager to see what the Sandjar had to say. “Here you go” she said handing the other bowl to Endo.
It was also well known that Sandjars, were anything but diplomatic, in fact diplomacy, was something of which they had no knowledge. They did not need to be, they took what they wanted and killed anything in their way. The young scavenger however, had grown up with humans and knew how to appease his adoptive mother.
“I am not hungry now,” he said quietly.
Andra put the bowl down on the ground beside him, “well maybe later”, she said. She began checking the bandages around Osh's head; thank God Callaxions skulls are thick; she thought. She checked the small metal import access that all of his kind had on the side of their heads, she found it had not been damaged in the attack. She also knew, the wounds were not deep, and with rest and a goodly amount of Grana, he would recover quickly.
Thinking of the beating, she remembered her anger towards her mate, she sat down on a small stool near the old man and began to mutter under her breath. Hearing this, the Callaxion took the opportunity to put down his bowl of over spiced soup. He looked at his friend, “is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes!” Andra blurted out, “Why are all men so thick are headed?”
Osh knew, the skulls of human were not very strong, when compared to the thickness of his or the Sandjars. He also knew, the cranium of a Nomad was much denser than other species. The creatures who created them as soldiers, made them that way. He was about to go into a long and detailed answer for the woman, when he suddenly realized, what Andra was really asking.
She and Arn have quarreled; he told himself, he cleared his throat of stinging broth and spoke, “Arn is a good man, like all men, his actions are sometimes a bit erratic”.
“Erratic?” The woman cried out. “He stood and watched an innocent woman die, that’s a lot more than being erratic”. She stood up, and began pacing back and forth in the small tent, “I know being King has lots of responsibilities, and sometimes they come before a single person”.
“Yes” the old man interjected, “a Nomad King is...”
“ Arn is a good man, deep in his heart”. Andra said, cutting off the Callaxion's sentence. “ Why did he stand by, and let them beat that poor woman until she died, huh? Answer me that?”
Osh tried to answer the question, “well you see the laws of the Outlanders, clearly states, when a...”
“If he thinks I’m going to just stand by, and let them get away with what they did”, Andra interjected, “they're mistaken”.
“Well mistakes can be made, if you follow the strict interpretation of the law, the woman was...”
“I’m going to tell that arrogant, overbearing, rock headed barn cleaner just what I think about him!” With those words she stormed out of the tent, leaving Osh and Endo staring at each other.
“Mother yells very loud” the Sandjar finally said, “the loudest is often the leader” he added. He picked up the nearby bowl of soup, took a small mouthful, then spat it out. “Mother is a good leader but her soup tastes of wood”.
Osh could only nod his head in agreement.
Arn also, did not sleep in his tent, with his mate gone, he found the quarters unpleasant, and for the last few days and nights he had stayed with Kuno the Captain of the Spikebacks. They had drunk and eaten, and drank again, all the while trying to understand the female mind, and their general lack of good judgment.
They sat close to a large barrel of the fiery drink, and nearby an enormou
s cut of Rimar meat was roasting. They wore the ever-present armor of the Nomads, their axes were at the ready. Now and again, they heard the roaring of the Thundra beasts that carried the long-range weapons of the tribe. They talked of past battles but mostly they grumbled and complained to each other.
Kuno, poured more Po into the King's empty goblet, then continued his tale of ongoing troubles with the women of the tribe. “At first they are all meadow cane and smiles, then after a few nights of blanket war, they start asking to move their robe chests into your tent”. His words were slurred because of the great amount of sour wine he had consumed during the last few days. “ After they move their belongings, they start asking when you will be back from a hunt, where you are going when you leave them, and if you have spoken to another female”. He took a long drink of his Po, “and if you put up with their demands, they think you are well trained and they start asking for mating rings”. He took another drink and nodded his head, “the demons in the Pit of Marloon must surely be female”.
Arn listen to the words of his old friend, and added his own thoughts, “if females are demons, why do we come to them when they call?”
Kuno was quick to reply, “because their voices are like signal horns. When they speak we must answer,” he said, “and if we find death in their arms so be it. It is the will of the Gods”.
This made the King smile, “yes, it is a pleasant way to die”.
The big Captain smiled and lifted is cup to Arn, “you are a wise King,” he said, then took a long draft of his Po.
The King laughed a little at his comment, then his mind turned to other thoughts, thoughts of his mate. I would die in her arms if the Gods wished it; when his mind filled with images of her face he washed them away with a gulp of wine.
For a moment they both sat in silence, Arn turned to his friend, “in days past my brother Agart gave me good advice. Now he is gone, I have you to stand by my side”. His voice was serious now, “if I become lost, I want you to show me the path”.
Kuno put his hand on his King's shoulder. “Long ago I took the oath to stand by my King, I will not break that oath”, he said solemnly, “and if we become lost we will wander in the darkness together”.
It was a promise, not to be broken.
Arn stood up and looked at the sky. The Suns were rising fast, and he knew, the time had come for them to continue on their journey. “Raise the warriors and prepare for travel”, he said, “it is still a long way to the Forests of Caltarine”
Kuno also rose to his feet, although a bit unsteadily, “it will be done,” he said lifting his cup. The King nodded and left his side, then the Captain spoke in a voice so that only he could hear, “as soon as I finish my cup”.
Andra looked everywhere for her mate, first she checked their tent, he was not there, then she looked amongst the warriors for him, he was not to be found. She heard someone say, he might be with the leader of the Spikebacks, so she headed for the gathering place of the great beasts, all the while becoming more and more angry at her lover. When she found him at last, he had just finished talking to one of the Elders, telling him the tribe would soon be leaving the oasis.
With eyes ablaze, she confronted him. “Why did you let the woman die?” She shouted.
Several of the older tribe members, could not help hearing her angry words, and turned to see why an Off-world woman, would dare to challenge the actions of their King.
Arn said nothing and walked away from Andra.
She did not speak as he left her side, as she watched him go, her heart cried out to him.
Being the woman she was, she could not let it go unanswered. She followed him as he made his way to the pool of water, at the heart of the oasis.
Once more the Selcarie woman found her mate and came close to his side. This time, she did not shout nor do anything to show her anger. This time, she simply asked him a question.
“Do you love me?”
It was a question, all creatures of the Outer Rim would ask. Being loved by, and loving someone, was the primal force that drove civilizations. It was at the heart of all purpose, a gift from the Gods.
Arn heard her question quite clearly, he knew no amount of diversion, would keep her from getting an answer. “I would give, all that I have for you,” he said softly.
As she looked into his eyes, Andra felt something inside, it was not just her feelings for Arn, it was something more, something not entirely her; what is this thing inside me? She asked herself; why does it come when I am near him? Then she remembered the crystal spiders and their rebirth, the gift of renewal and all that it gave them. I am now, more than I was; then she realized the other gift, the lurkers in the darkness gave them. The ability to know what the other knew and the feelings, they now shared; why do I ask something, I already know? ---I am loved.
Andra reached out and took her mate into her arms, the Nomad King did the same. As forgotten Gods looked on, they kissed beside the clear water, and forgot about everything but their entwining love.
A Nomad warrior is one of the most formidable weapons of destruction in the Outer Rim. Their strength and courage are in combat, and when the killing madness is upon them they are all unstoppable. Their lovemaking was also unmatched, at times harsh and demanding. Under the Great Dome of Omargash, it became a battle for survival. In Arn's strong embrace, the woman known as Moonbud, found all the contentment and joy that her heart and body could feel.
The suns of Gorn were high in the sky, when the Madrigal once more set out over the land. They traveled in the same formation, used by their fathers, and their fathers before them. At the head of the long column rode the King and his best warriors. If any dangers were to be found, it would be their leader and the strongest of their tribe, who would face it first. After them came the wagons of the Elders and the oldest of the clan. The very old were known as Frail legs, these were men and women who could no longer care for themselves, needing the help of their kin, or the Touchtenders. Someday they would be left behind, but not now, so they were treated with respect and love. After the Elders came the wagons of the tribe members, each one, riding in the ornate traveling home handed down through their bloodline for generations. These vehicles or Karracks as they were called in the old language, were made strongly from iron and bone, and the hard wood of the Balbar tree. They could transverse most terrain on their wide wheels, and carry all the goods needed, to sustain a Nomad in the Outlands. Next came the Holy Wagon of the High Priestess, the huge moving shrine guarded by the Thungodra, and behind, the cage holding the Malock. Close to the shrine, were the most precious wagons of all, they held the Grana, the green salt that must be eaten to live. It was well protected, the wagons were armor plated, and guarded by the best of the Thungodra. They would quickly kill anyone, friend or foe, who came too close to the gift of the Goddess.
After the Grana carriers came the Ironworkers, the smiths of the tribe. These wagons were very large, with a great iron furnace. There were carry carts, filled with Itarian steel, scavenged from fallen drop ships, and ancient machinery that dotted the land. Last came the Spikebacks, they held the long-range canon and the disruptors, used to defend the tribe.
Surrounding the column were the Outriders, young warriors who rode the smaller, faster Whiptails. They kept their eyes sharp, always watching for danger, for the lands of Gorn held death at every turn.
They headed west towards the green Forests of Caltarine the home of the tree people and the Norgonie. Nomads who did not travel the Outlands, but guarded their forts, against all who may come to harm them. They were fierce warriors and worshiped a powerful God called Arm-Ra, not Isarie as did the Nomads of the Outlands. Their God was the father of the Holy Goddess, and they did not accept, his daughter killed him and gained his power. This put them at odds with the other Nomads of Gorn, often it led to violence. For the most part, they were friendly with their brethren, and shared food and danced with them in the moonlight.
As the Madrigal left the Western
lands, they traveled through the great valley of Rowmas-Agor, or the womb of Isarie as it was sometimes called. Nomads, had to pass through this break in the high mountains, to reach the lands beyond. It was a narrow gap between two great peaks, home to the creatures that blot out the sun.
Arn was now content, because beside him rode the woman who had stolen his heart, as he swayed to the rhythm of his Whiptail he glanced over at his mate. She looked strong and proud in her gleaming armor, her soft hair, as it emerged from her helmet, flowing in the wind,.
She is not the helpless woman, I took out of the desert; he told himself; and that was true. She had become a great warrior, without her help, they would not have defeated the Talsonar, and regained their land. As he looked at her, another image walked into his mind. An image, he had not thought about in a very long time; this is not the face I wish to see. He forced the picture from his mind's eye, and turned back to look over the land before him.
He saw a narrow canyon, it had steep cliffs on either side, rising straight up. They were of a smooth white rock, and had tufts of vegetation clinging desperately to the jagged outcropping. The break in the mountains was small, but with care, the Madrigal could travel through this narrow opening, without much danger. At least from the earth!
Arn raised his hand, and the column of wagons and warriors came to a stop. Andra watched as her mate looked slowly at the sky above them. She did the same, and saw a bright open sky, without any sign of danger.
There are no Sun-droppers or Sky Riders; she told herself. She had learned, just because you cannot see danger, does not mean it is not there. So she lifted her hand and used it to shade her eyes, focusing on the thin clouds. Still she saw nothing.
Arn continued to watch the sky for a time then motioned to a warrior riding just behind him. This Nomad was a woman, by the name of Lux, known as a good warrior and a hard drinker. She urged her mount beside the Kings and waited.
“Close ranks and guard the wagons well”, Arn told her, “tell all to remain silent and watch the skies”
Lux nodded her head, “it will be done”, she drove her long spurs into the side of her beast, and rode off to spread the Kings commands.
Andra watched the woman ride off, then turned to Arn, “is their danger here?” She asked.
The King nodded his head, “there is danger everywhere”, he said softly. He smiled at her, “ it will think hard, before facing Moric-Kan”.
This made the Sellcarie woman smile as well, she understood the meaning of his words; Moric-Kan the Twin Dragons; she thought; the name he gave to us after our rebirth. “Yes they will” she replied.
Along the column, Lux rode hard, giving the orders to draw the wagons together and close ranks. Hearing this the Madrigal did as they were commanded. One by one, they moved until they were closely gathered, the warriors made certain, all was in place and no wagons left behind. The Thungodra, circled the Holy shrine of the Goddess, and held their weapons at the ready. They would fight if need be, standing their ground to the last man or woman.
High atop the great wagon, Egmar looked out over the people, who the Gods had placed in her care. Beside her stood the Handmaidens, and with them was Kela. They all wore simple traveling robes, many of them had traveled this path before, and knew the dangers that might come, as did Egmar. She looked up at the sky, lifted her hands and prayed.
“Hear me, oh Gods and send us your love. Guard us from those that come from above”.
The Handmaidens in turn, also raised their hands and took up the chant.
“Oh Goddess of winds turn not from our sight, bring not the creatures that blot out the light”.
They continued this prayer as the wagons of the Nomads started to move forward.
Some distance away from the great wagon of the Holy Mother, the smaller well armored Karrack of the Callaxion and young Sandjar, moved cautiously forward.
Endo, had recovered enough from his wounds, to allow him to guide the Trofar that pulled their heavy wagon. Beside him sat his adoptive father, whose head was still hurting, no matter how much Grana, he consumed.
“Go slowly”, the old man, said rubbing his large cranium, “my head is throbbing like an Argonagan blood worm”.
Not wanting to upset him, the Sandjar boy did all he could to avoid jostling the wagon.
It did not matter to Anais, if his wagon hit a rock or not. He sat alone in the back of the vehicle and concentrated on drinking a cup of aged Po. Leaving the driving, to a warrior who was ordered to guard the King's the brother.
Romas-agor, the great womb; he thought; if only I could turn back time and never emerge from my mother. He took a large gulp of his drink, as he did, the wagon hit a rock and the contents of his cup splashed over his face.
“Artock!” The blind man yelled out, “watch where you are going!” The words were directed at the Nomad who was not looking where he was going, “steer to the left, there are no rock there!” Then satisfied, he had made his demands clear, he took another drink from his cup, as the sour wine was moving down his throat, he suddenly realized something.
How do I know there are no rocks to the left? It was something that caused him to wonder, after all he was blind and even if he could see the back of his wagon was covered and no light could enter. What trick are the God playing on me now? He asked himself, it was a question that would have to wait for an answer.
As the Madrigal moved into the narrow valley, Arn continued to watch the skies, as did Andra. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see anything to cause fear; there is nothing there; she thought. Try as she might, she could not shake off the feeling that danger was near; what’s the matter with me? She asked herself. It was a reasonable question, for she had been on many reconnaissance missions when she was a lieutenant in the army of her Home-world. She had relied on her feelings many times, to keep her from being killed. Those times she knew what lay ahead, now it was different, the sky was clear and the land empty, except for shrubs and those strange looking plants.
The plants were unlike anything the woman had seen before, they were as tall as a man and twisted in shape with large flat leaves. They also had tentacle like shafts, growing out of a central base that had heavy roots spreading over the ground. The base had three or more large funnel like pods, jutting out with long sticky feelers that seemed to be waving about, even with no wind blowing.
As they passed the cluster of vegetation, Andra was about to comment on how interesting they appeared. She remembered the words from her mate, about staying silent and it reminded her once more or her army days. “Follow orders and keep your mouth shut!” The words, her old Drill Sargent used to yell at her. As she thought of her old comrades, she noticed a small Rockrunner, approaching one of the plants.
The little reptile came timidly towards one of the large funnels, and sniffed at the waving feelers. That plant must have a scent that draws the rock runner? She thought. Then to her horror, one of the sticky shafts suddenly shot out and wrapped itself around the creature and began to drag him into its base. As it did the plant, started to emit a sound like the wailing of a child.
This made Arn suddenly sit bolt upright in his saddle; the Cryleaf has been triggered; they will be coming. The Nomad King raised his hand “forward” he called out loudly. He looked up at the sky, then at his mate, “stay close by my side” he said.
Before she had time to ask why, there was loud screeching from the heavens, she looked up to see the suns being erased from the sky.
There coming downwards fast, was a creature, the Nomads called the God of the Skies. It was many times larger, than the flying beasts of the Sky Riders. Its wingspan was five times the length of a Karrack, its head was long and narrow, with a beak like a Daggermouth, and clawed feet, it could carry off a Whiptail with ease.
In an instant, Andra raised her weapon and prepared to stand by her King.
The warriors of the Madrigal knew the creature they were facing, it was an Arabus bird. It was not really a bird, f
or it had no feathers like an arrow tail or Doff-bird. Instead its wings were large flaps of skin supported by its arms, much like a Nightflyer. The people of the Outlands knew it meant great danger, for it lived on flesh and knew no fear.
With a wild cry the defenders of the tribe rode into battle. The Arabus swooped down on the Madrigal with a blast of wind that made a cloud of dust, obscuring vision and causing panic among the Elders. The Trofars pulled hard on their harnesses and the wagons began to rumble through Romas-Agor.
Endo fought hard to hold onto the reins of his beast. Next to him Osh looked up to see the great reptile heading straight for them, with its clawed feet stretched forward, ready to grab anything that came into its reach. “Good Gods!” the old man cried out, “it is a gigantic example of a Cocorus Nitalius!” Seeing such a rare creature, the Callaxion did not realize, the flying beast was heading right for him. At the last moment, Endo reached over and pulled his father to one side. Watching the great claw of the Arabus, miss their mark by a fraction of an inch. With a loud cry, the bird ripped the roof of their wagon, then rose up into the air.
Before the old man could say anything, Endo pushed his head down out of danger. “Stay down father” he said loudly, then reaching for one of the chamber rifles, weapons once belonging to Talsonar. He quickly loaded it, turned and fired at the great bird. The rifle emitted a burst of smoke and fire but the bullet did not hit its mark. The Sandjar started to reload as his father took over the reins of their Karrack. “I will drive” the old man said, “you shoot!”
Endo nodded, and together they raced off with the rest of the tribe.
Arn and Andra watched as the Arabus turned in the air and headed straight back at them.
“Can we fire the long range guns at it?” She shouted, as she fought for control of her roaring Whiptail.
“They move to fast”, replied the King. He also knew, the disruptors would take too long to charge their power cells, and by then the Bird would be long gone. He also knew, Kuno the Captain of the Spikeback must have been cursing loudly, because he could not help in the battle. “We have to stand and fight while the tribe moves to safety”, he called out to Lux who was nearby. “Lead the wagons to that outcropping”, he pointed with his ax to a large rocky overhang to one side of the canyon.
Lux nodded her head in understanding then called out to the lead wagons to follow her. Arn turned to his remaining warriors, “strike at the wings, it is their only weak spot!”
A great cloud of dust rose as the huge reptile swooped down once more. This time the Madrigal were ready, at a shout from their King, they flung their war-axes at the outstretched wings and watched as the sharp edges of the weapons tore through the thin membrane. The sky God was hurt but still it managed to grab one of the Whiptails and its rider, then pulled both into the air.
Andra watched the warrior woman known as Lux, held tightly in the massive claw of the sky bird. She was striking at the leg of the beast with one of her daggers, and uttering curses at it to let her loose. As it rose into the air it must have heard the words of the warrior, for it opened its talons and let her fall to the ground. The Selcarie woman, watched as she hit the ground hard. For a moment she thought the fight was over but she was wrong. She looked up again and saw another Arabus falling out of the sky.
They travel in pairs; she thought; just like Sand Dragons. She was right, they did travel in pairs, a male and a female, much to her horror, she realized, the first bird a female and this one was much larger.
There was little time to consider this, the Sky God dropped from the heavens, bringing with it a storm of dust and rock.
Egmar and the Handmaidens, held tightly to each other as the shrine of the Goddess headed for safety. The twenty strong Trofar, pulled with all their might as the Thungodra beat them with Rimar hide whips and shouted at them to move. The guardians of the High Priestess had taken an oath to keep her safe. They would do so even at the expense of the rest of the tribe.
Egmar knew, but it did not ease her fear; the Goddess did not hear my prayer, perhaps she no longer listens to my voice? It was a strange question to ask at a moment like this, she should have been thinking about, the fear and danger, her people were now facing. For some reason all she could think about was herself. Does Isarie know my words...or is she deaf to me?
She continued to think about this as her Handmaidens clung to her side. With them was Kela, she sought comfort at the side of her Enor.
I will be safe here; she told herself; Egmar is beloved of Isarie, and will not bring harm to her. Hearing those words in her mind, brought comfort to her heart and eased the fear in her body.
The great sky bird raked the warriors with its huge claws, two of the Nomad fighters were ripped from their saddles and died instantly. The Outlanders stood their ground, they continued to fight as best they could, to give time for their tribe to reach safety.
Andra watched as the monster rose skyward and prepared to dive upon them once more.
If only I had a good blaze cannon; there were none of those destructive weapons on Gorn, only wits and a hand ax to defeat the beast.
Arn could see, the Arabus was coming around for another attack. He could also see, most of the tribe had reached the outcropping, with the massive overhang of rock as protection, his people would be safe. Now he turned his attention back to the flying creature, fast approaching.
He decided on a disparate plan, quickly calling for the warriors to gather around him and his mate. They heard his commands, in a matter of moments several of the best, rode close to their King and waited for further orders.
Andra’s Whiptail pulled hard at its reins, it knew that death was fast approaching and its instincts told it to flee. The Selcarie woman pulled hard on the bit in its mouth and it remained where it was. She looked over at Arn, “what is your plan?” she asked.
“We wait until the last moment then strike at its mouth” he said calmly.
It sounded like a good plan to the woman. The beak was too thick for an ax cut and its neck and head were too well armored for their weapons to do much damage. So the best idea was to wait until it opened its great mouth then throw their weapons at the soft pallet inside. It was also very dangerous, waiting until the last moment meant, if they missed many of the Nomads would die a horrible death.
The Outlanders had taken an oath to stand with their King, they would do so even at the expense of their lives. As the flying reptile came for them, Arn called out to his warriors.
“There is a great feast waiting in the Golden Hall of the Goddess”, he said loudly, “if you get there first, save us some Rimar!”
These words made the warriors laugh, then a wave of dust rose up before them and the light vanished from the sky.
The night was warm and calm as the warriors of the Madrigal sat around their fires and spoke of the day’s events,
“It was only by luck, my ax struck the eye of the beast rather than its mouth!” Andra said as she lifted a cup of Po to her lips, “so don’t give me a medal for something I didn’t mean to do”.
Arn smiled at her as he lifted his drinking horn in a toast, “to Moonbud, a warrior who found victory by missing her mark”.
The others around the fire also lifted their cups.
“To Moonbud!” They shouted, then poured great amounts of sour wine down their thirsty gullets.
Kuno wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “a victory is a victory, do not question the Gods on their choice of methods”.
Hearing those words, they lifted their cups once more to the wise words of the Captain.
When their thirst was quenched they feasted on the flesh of the Arabus. It was not the best of meat but victory makes the taste all the sweeter.
The Madrigal rested that night, they had buried the dead and sang songs to their names. Lux the great woman warrior was laid to rest in her armor with her ax in her hand. Because she would not be content with one cup of Po in the Afterlife. They placed a whole barrel of their best
wine next to her, knowing she would smile and speak well of them in the Golden Hall of Isarie.
The Elders of the Tribe, gave thanks to the Gods for letting them pass through the womb of the Goddess, with little loss of life. They did not question why some should die, while others lived, it was not their place, to ask such things of their Gods. They were content knowing, their faith would carry them through their lives and into the Afterlife. Also, the great Goddess Isarie, was always watching them and knew the paths that lay before them.
Osh, wrote down, all he had seen, hoping, someday it would be Mindlocked into the great Tollacian computers of the Outer Rim. To be placed alongside such noted authors as Vardas Cocam or V.V. Yar. If that did not happen, he would still be content, knowing, he had witnessed something few others had, and survived to write about it!
Endo on the other hand, was not content, he wished to show his father, and the others of the tribe, he was also a great warrior and not just a Scavenger. He had no Gods to pray to, so he spent the evening cleaning his chamber rifle, hoping, a day would come, when he could show his true character.
Anais had escaped the dangers of the Arabus birds and was now safe inside his tent. He could hear the members of his tribe talking outside, telling of the day’s events and offering prayers to the Holy Goddess for their safe passing. These words had no meaning to the blind Prince, he was still living in a dark world of his own making, a world without hope or pity.
He had just finished his third cup of Po and was feeling as well as he could.
Why do they pray? He thought; if they truly understood, they would ask why Isarie would send the Sky Gods in the first place? This made him take another drink of his sour wine; can they not see that it’s all foolishness, if your time has come, no amount of prayer will change the ending. He took another deep drink of his wine, reminding himself of the Pit of Marloon and the punishments, waiting there for him. There may or may not be a Goddess, if there is perhaps she will hear my voice?
These thoughts were something that only a short time ago, would have been unknown to his mind, now they did not seem quite so distant. Alone and with only a dark future ahead of him, maybe the future could be changed? Maybe it wasn't too late? He put the golden cup down and began to utter words, he never thought he would.
“Isarie, it is I Anais Prince of the Madrigal, I wish to pray”.
What he said to the Eternal Goddess after, we will never know, those words were not meant for us and we are forbidden to listen.
Egmar laid an offering of fresh cut field flowers and a bowl of Balbar fruit at the foot of a statue of Isarie. She knelt before the image in her tent with her Handmaidens, chanting praises to the Goddess and thanking her for protecting them from the fury of the Sky God. As the sweet smell of incense floated through the air and the ringing of silver bells mixed with ancient words. The Holy Mother listened, a sound she had heard before, a faint rattling noise, it seemed to be all around her.
What is that sound? She asked herself; why does it come to me? She lifted her head to look into the face of the sacred statue, as she gazed into the warm eyes of the icon, she thought she saw something moving on its face?
The image looked at her and spoke in a voice that was not human.
Terrified she cried out and fell to the floor, the Handmaidens stopped praying and rushed to her side. They gathered her up in their arms and looked into her scarred face. The eyes that looked back showed no sign of recognition.
Kela bent down to whisper to her Enor, “Holy Mother, are you well?”
Egmar did not answer, her mind was filled with the image she had seen on the face of the Goddess.
A large black spider that knew her name.