Chapter 21. Fang and Claw
Death that comes on silent feet, deep in darkness, fear you to meet.
Flesh and spear will stand, alone, facing Gods, with names unknown.
Gaping mouth and rending tooth, all is ended, all was truth.
Weep not for us, the honored slain, weep not for us, who died in pain.
Old Norgonie saying.
In spite of all her bravado, Andra was afraid. The roar from the woods, was unlike anything, she had heard before. It was a primordial scream, with no sense of mercy or kindness or fear. As it echoed into the trees, it was followed by several more thunderous howls that caused all other beastly utterances to fall silent.
They travel in packs; the Selcarie woman thought; Sagar cats travel in packs.
Andra was not prepared for that, she assumed that the forest felines were solitary creatures, not given to hunting together. Now with the air filling with wild roars, she knew, she was greatly mistaken. Her Rowgor stood motionless, sniffing the forest air, she looked around to see that the other great beasts were doing the same. The numerous tentacles that emanated from their snouts, waved about like so many tongues. They would detect the slightest hint of an approaching animal. At the same time, the Drogs snapped at the air and foam dripped from their crushing jaws, they howled in a rage, at not being free to kill.
There was a pause as the Sagar cat's screams slowly died away, then the air was filled with the trumpeting of the Rowgor, and more howls from the Drogs. It was their way of challenging the Lords of the Woodlands, telling them that the Hunters of the Norgonie were now here.
Arn could feel the blood rising in his veins, every muscle in his body was tensed, like steel bands. His heart pounded like the hammers of the Ironworkers. He his dark eyes squinted as he looked around at the surrounding trees, he longed for his prey to spring forward, roaring in anger, with its great mouth gaping and its ripping claws spread wide.
Let them come; he thought; let them come. He balanced his Kagar in his hand and shifted his body in the saddle. He turned his helmet from side to side, trying to detect the direction of the roars coming from the forest. Most of all,, he wanted to fight, to feel the sting of battle in a life or death struggle for victory.
Ishea felt the same way, her warrior’s instinct was now taking over, she could hardly wait for the coming battle. She lifted her spear over her head, “follow me!” she cried out, then pressed her mount forward.
With the howling Drogs leading the way, the column of hunters moved deeper into the haunted forests of Caltarine.
Soon the small shafts of light, faded into a shadowy nether world of dark wood and oppressive heat. The forest trail vanished into a narrow corridor, with massive stone blocks and the remains of some forgotten city. All about were broken vine-covered towers, reaching up almost as high as the trees. Huge shattered statues and cracked walls that were carved with hieroglyphics of some unknown race, could be seen behind veils of green. There were also strange metal creations, rising up like steel fingers from the earth, they were twisted and bent, as if some giant molded them, like a potter with his clay. Here and there, lay bits of melted glass and scorched rock. All covered in moss or vegetation, and the air, the air hung heavy with a sweet sickening smell. Like rotting flowers on the graves of the slain, or the scent of death on a forgotten battlefield. To anyone else it would have been enough to make them turn about and return to the land of the living. To the Hunters, it was like the sweet perfume of the White Lotus, it called them ever onward.
How the Nomads could know where they were, was a mystery to Andra. She knew that they were heading in a generally southern direction, for she had acquired enough of the Outlander's instincts, to tell North from South but that was all. If she needed to find her way back through the mass of woodlands, she would become hopelessly lost. So she kept close by her mate, trusting him, to keep her safe.
With the Norgonie Queen leading the way, the riders broke through the dense foliage and into an open space. It was a clearing with enough sunlight to see, it was once some sort of arena. The floor, although layered with earth and grass, still showed traces of flat paving stones and mortar. In the center, was a huge iron statue of a man and woman, dressed in ancient armor, lifting their arms skyward, their hands holding weapons. The surface of the statue, was deeply pitted with age. It was partly covered in moss and stains of red and blue, as the moist forest air ate into the metal. One of the female’s arms, had broken off at the elbow, it now lay half-buried in the ground.
Around the rim of the courtyard, was a high stone wall, with openings at different points. At, one end, the wall had been broken down, and a mass of low vegetation, was slowly entering, along with large trees and thick vines. At the top of the wall, there were metal spikes that pointed inward, a clear indication that the arena was for keeping things in and not out. High above, there were the remains of a great dome, in appearance it was similar to the Mating Dome, in the plains of Omargash, but not as big. Massive pillars and supporting beams, could still be seen tangled with vines, the ever-encroaching forest, would someday erase all traces, and no one would know of its existence.
Ishea knew this place well, she had been here many times.
Acora Morinnor; she thought; Arena of Blood; a slight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, as she led her warriors into the open space. It would be here that they would face death and challenge Horcon, the God of destiny.
The hunters of the Norgonie and the Madrigal, moved into a circle, with the Rowgors facing outwards, towards the arena’s walls. The great armored beasts, moved closely together, and continued to sniff the air, for any sign of a scent. In the meantime, the Drogs continued to howl and pull at the long leashes, while they pawed the ground with their sharp claws. When all was in place, the Queen turned to Arn, who was next to her.
“Is it like you remembered?” she asked.
Arn did not answer, inside he knew what she was asking, it was here that he first fell in love with the Norgonie Princess.
Her father was King back then and he was only a Prince. When he saw her kill a charging Sagar, with only her spear and her courage, he knew that this woman must be his. That was many cycles ago, and now he understood that thinking of such things should not be done. Those days are gone, he told his mind; the past is done the present is now. He looked at the woman who he had saved from the Sandjars, the one who was now his mate; she is my world now, she is all that I want.
Deep inside her heart Andra felt a stirring, it was enough to pull her mind from her surroundings, lifting it into a place of warmth and peace. She had felt this many times before, most often when she lay in the arms of her lover, as she turned to look into the eyes of her mate, she felt it grow.
He will never betray me; she thought; he will always be at my side.
Then the peace of that moment, was cut by the sound of death.
Once more, the woodlands echoed to the piercing cries of Sagar cats, it was hard to tell, whence, they came, for all about them, sounded the wild screams of hungry beasts. The roaring was so loud that a great flock of Night-criers, bolted from their homes high in the support beams, and began to circle the hunters. The beating of their large ebony wings, caused two of the Rowgors, to rear up on their massive hind legs and trumpet loudly. Their riders managed to get them under control again, and soon they were back in formation. The bat-like Night-criers, circled one more time, then flew off and vanished into the trees, now all was silent once again.
Ishea took the ivory handled dagger from her belt and lifted it over her head. “An offering of blood for the Lords of the Greenwood!” she called out, then she cut her arm with the razor sharp knife, letting the crimson fluid flow downwards.
Without hesitation, the hunters unsheathed their daggers and calling out, “an offering of blood!” they too cut their arms.
Arn waited for a moment, then he took his dragons tooth and cut his forearm, Andra did the same, they looked into each others eyes.
r /> She is my world; the King thought.
He will never leave me; Andra said in her mind.
They waited.
No one spoke as they looked into the dense forest, then to the sound of another roaring cry, the first Sagar cat entered the Acora Morinnor.
He was almost three meters in length, not counting his tail, orange striped hide and glowing red eyes. He moved slowly forward, the dense muscles under his skin, rippling like bands of steel. His short ears twitched and moved about, picking up the slightest sound, while his broad flat nose, continued to sniff the air for any sign of fear. He took two steps forward, then gave out with another roar that struck into the heart of the Selcarie woman.
Gods what a monster; she thought. Seeing Arn's calm face, gave courage to her and kept her steady in the saddle.
The Drogs continued to bark, great chunks of earth were thrown up, as their sharp claws dug into the ground. Suddenly, one of them broke free of its chain, and with a wild howl charged for the roaring cat. It took only a few moments, for the Drog to cross the space, between it and the great cat. As it came within striking distance, the Sagar struck out with one of its great claws. The head off the charging animal, was ripped off, in a shower of blood. The body of the Drog went one way, and the broken skull went another. Then as the carcass twitched in its death throes, the Sagar let out another great roar. Out of the forest emerged three more of its kind.
They were almost twice the size of the first one, they moved forward cautiously on padded feet, opening and closing their great jaws while emitting low rumbling roars. Their red eyes, were without any sign of emotion save one.
Hunger!
With saliva dripping from their huge fangs, they fanned out as if to encircle their prey.
They’re going to try to outflank us; Andra thought, following her soldiers instincts, she pressed into the sides of her Rowgor and moved away from the others.
Arn watched her go; she should stay with us; he thought, not wanting her to face death alone, he urged his mount to follow her.
The Queen could see that Arn was going to protect his mate, at the risk of his own life. This caused her pain, but before she could dwell on it more, one of the Sagar came charging.
With remarkable speed the huge animal bounded forward, roaring loudly, it was then that the Drogs were set free. They raced towards the raging beast and with wild barks they fell upon it, like demons from the pit. A single Drog, no matter how fierce is no match for a hungry Sagar, but a pack of them, could work together, to bring down their quarry. So with careful maneuvering, they set about their work. One kept the cat busy by snapping at its head, giving time for the others to clamp their massive jaws on the Sagar's hind legs, preventing it from leaping clear of their attack. Once this was done, another Drog waited for an opening. It plunged its long fangs into the neck, ripping out the jugular vein, a great shower of blood was sent skyward. As the cat went down, it turned and seized one of the attacking beasts in its mouth, biting it in two, as easily as a Whiptail bites a Burrow baby.
Seeing their companion die did not cause the other Sagar to run. On the contraire smelling the blood from the humans mixed with the live force of their brother made them go berserk with rage, and so they dug in their clawed feet and charged once more filling the air with their bestial roars.
The Norgonie were ready, as the first one moved within spear range, the forest warrior drew back his arm and let loose a shaft in a long arcing flight. It whistled slowly through the air, then stuck the Sagar full in the chest. The great cat tumbling to the ground, where it rolled over several times before coming to a rest. Then the remaining two fell upon the hunters. The first cat jumped high into the air, coming down on the armored head of one of the Rowgors. Before it could be reached by one of its tentacles, the cat grabbed a Madrigal warrior in its claws, ripping him from his saddle. The warrior tried to strike out with his weapon, but too late, he died as the animals crushing teeth, pierced his armor.
Andra watched as one of her tribe died, there was no time for grieving, another two cats, were leaping in for the kill. One of them was killed, as Ishea turned her Rowgor to face the raging beast. It leaped at her, but she lifted her spear, impaling the monster on its sharp tip. The great cat let out a loud roar, then crashed against the side of the armored beast, clawing at its chain link. Before it died, it managed to break apart the protective armor, ripping into the flesh below. This caused the huge creature to rise up, and jerk sideways. Unable to control her mount, Ishea was thrown free, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. Now defenseless, she turned to watch the other Sagar racing for her.
Ral could see that his mother was in great danger, with a shout, he jumped clear of his Rowgor, landing on his feet near the Queen. An instant later, a Sagar leaped towards him with blinding speed, he jumped clear, a spear thrown by one of the Norgonie warriors, ended the life of the big cat.
Needless to say, Andra was glad to see the last of the Sagar dead. Although she did not show it, she had been very afraid. Now sitting atop her Rowgor, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank the Gods that’s over; she thought, a few moments later, she realized that thanking them, had been too soon. The air filled once more with roaring, turning in the direction of the roars, she saw a dozen or more Sagars emerging from the forests.
These were as large or larger than the ones that now lay dead upon the ground. They moved forward like a gathering of demons, the Selcarie woman came to know what real fear was like.
Andra had always thought, there was only one type of creature that she feared, spiders. Now, as she looked at the roaring beasts, her primordial instincts took over, a dark fear swelled up inside her. Still she did not run, she drove down her fears, steadying herself in the saddle; I will not run; she told herself. She looked over at her mate; I will stand with my King.
This time, Arn would not wait until the forest killers came to him, this time, he rode to meet them. Gripping his Kagar in his fist, he drove his Rowgor forward, all the while screaming out the war cry of the Madrigal. Hearing their King calling them to battle, the warriors of the Outlands joined in the cry, racing to meet death beside their leader.
Andra took only a moment, before screaming out the victory shout of her old battalion. Guiding her mount, next to her mate, she looked over at him with contentment on her face. He will never leave me; she thought; and I will never leave him.
The Norgonie stayed with their Queen for only for a moment or two. Then Ral climbed back into his saddle, taking his mother's hand, he pulled her up behind him. They both rode after the Nomads, screaming out the hunting cry of their tribe. Ishea quickly replaced lost her spear, with another from the quiver beside her, waving the weapon above her head, she shouted out a war cry once more.
The Sagar cats and the humans, met each other near the great statue, like a wave crashing on the rocks of the Western Sea. The shouts of the humans, mixed with the roaring of the Sagar cats, in a symphony of death and blood. Two of the great felines leapt upon one of the Nomad's Rowgors. Ripping and tearing at the huge beast, until one of them managed to dig into its head, then bite its left eye. The animal trumpeted loudly, then crashed into another Rowgor, sending both of them to the ground. One rider managed to wound an attacking cat, the other cat fell upon a Norgonie hunter, he died screaming.
Andra’s mount swung its great head, impaling a Sagar with its armored tusk, as it shook itself free, another large cat charged at the Off-World woman. Moonbud had no time to think, before she raised her ax, as the roaring beast leap for her, she ducked to one side, striking the animal on its side. Her sharp weapon made a deep wound in the striped hide of the creature, and it roared in pain. Before she could think, her Rowgor was hit by another cat, this time she could not strike out and the huge feline snapped at her face. Its great jaws missed her head by a fraction of an inch, a spear pierced its skull and it fell to the ground, dead.
Andra regaining her posture, turned to see Arn smiling at her, then
she knew that it was his weapon that had killed her attacker.
Always by my side; she thought.
Another roaring cry filled the air, and her beast fell to the ground, its front leg, was being bitten by one of the forest cats. The Selcarie woman, managed to keep from being crushed by the falling beast, the attacking cat was crushed under the weight of the Rowgor. Andra rolled over several times, then regained her footing at the base of the great statue. She turned to see two more Sagar, charging at her, at the last moment, Arn maneuvered his Rowgor between the racing forest monsters, and his mate. Seeing their way blocked, sent the feline duo roaring off, in the direction of the Queen and her son.
Ral had killed another of the Forest Lords. It managed to cut him across the chest, with one of its sharp claws, before he drove his Kagar deep into its heart. Bleeding from the wound, he jumped from his Rowgor to the empty saddle of another, leaving his mother free to attack. Ishea did not hesitate, she pressed in with her strong legs, heading for where Arn and Andra now stood. As one of the huge cats came forward, she leaped from the back of her mount and met the Sagar in midair. With a twist of her supple body, she turned and drove the point of her spear into the open mouth of the charging cat. The force of it was so great, it pierced its heavy skull, protruding out from the back. She twisted in the air once more and landed firmly on her feet, then taking up another weapon from the ground, she screamed out a battle cry once more and waited for the next cat to find her.
The King and his mate fought side by side, it was now that anyone could see why they were called “Moric-Kan”, the Twin Dragons. They stood back to back facing three of the great cats, now Andra was not afraid, the strange mental link that bonded her and the Nomad together, now took over. She felt her heart racing with the killing madness that comes over an Outlander, when he or she goes into battle. It was like a drug of the city dwellers, powerful, uncontrollable and deadly. She felt like this was the only place she belonged, the place where all things made sense, the place where she was meant, to be. Arn felt the same way, the feeling that now swept through his body, was an old friend to him, he had known it many times. It rose up from the deepest part of his being, taking him over, turning him into a killing machine. Now that machine was free, taking up a spear that had fallen from a dead warriors hand, he smiled like a lover meeting his love.
As they were attacked again and again, the King and his mate fought like one, they moved as if they shared a single mind, jumping, pivoting, ever moving in a dance of death. Anything that came within their reach died, with the killing madness upon them, it would not have mattered if it were, friend or foe, or man or beast. All would perish beneath their hands, it was the way of the Outlanders, the way of the Gods.
As one of the Sagar came within striking range, Andra move forward, waiting until the head of the angry cat, was only a meter or so from her face, then she swung her war-ax with all her might. She cut off the charging animal's head, with the one powerful stroke. Then as the next forest beast raced to them, Arn spun around and caught the cat on the end of his spear. Using the powerful muscles of his thick arms, he drove the point deep into the heart of the creature. It roared out once, then twisted over onto the ground, ripping the King's spear from his hands.
Defenseless now, except for Andra’s weapon, they turned to see the remaining Sagar coming for them. The Selcarie woman set her feet, bracing herself for what was to come. A moment before the roaring cat could leap upon her, a spear came whistling through the air, missing her head by a fraction of an inch, but killing the leaping monster. Moonbud turned to see Ishea standing close by, she knew that the Norgonie Queen had saved her life.
Before anyone could think, another Sagar leapt upon Arn's back, it was only his strong armor that saved him from being killed instantly. A few moments more and the raging cat would have sunk its huge fangs into the Nomad's neck. Andra did not waste time thinking, instead she moved with lightning speed, swinging her ax with all her might, it hit the roaring beast on its side, cutting deep into its flesh. In response, the Sagar swung out with his great paw, hitting Andra hard on her chest. It sent her flying, hitting hard against the base of the great statue. With the last of its strength before it died, the Sagar bore down on the Nomad. The King hit the ground hard, the heavy body of the cat pinning him to the ground. Seeing that his mate was hurt, he summoned up all the incredible strength of an Outlander, lifting off the huge animal. A few moments later, he was crouching beside Andra's body, oblivious to the battle raging around him. The other Outlanders would not let their King go unprotected, they jumped from their mounts and made a circle around their leader, pointing with their weapons out, challenging any animal or human to come near.
With the Nomads defending their King, the Norgonie continued to fight the Sagar, with most of their brethren dead or dying, the remaining wounded Sagars lost the will to fight, withdrawing back into their forest home. With on last roar they vanished like demon sprits, the last thing heard, was an echoing cry, telling all the creatures of the woodlands that it was now safe to come out of hiding.
Ral had killed three of the great cats by himself, although he was wounded, he did not feel the pain,r killing was part of his being, part of his soul, without it he would die. He stood covered in sweat and blood, breathing deeply in the heavy air.
I am the greatest warrior of the Norgonie; he told himself; I am the greatest warrior in all of Gorn; as he stood there victorious, he looked over at the King and his mate. He had seen them fight together, he had seen them defeat the Sagar cats, he knew that together they would be unbeatable. That would not stop him from fulfilling his oath.
He will not escape me; he thought; I will find a way to defeat him or I will die.
He would think on this in the coming days, not stopping until he found an answer.
Arn held the limp body of his mate in his arms, he knew she was not dead, he could see the slow rising and falling of her chest. There was a large dent in her helmet, where it had struck the stone base and he could see a trickle of blood moving down the side of her face. Slowly he removed her headgear, tearing a strip of Rimar hide from the leg of his pants, he wrapped it around her head, then turned to his warriors.
“Back to the fortress!” he shouted, “and I will kill anyone who slows us down”.
Hearing those words, the warriors of the Outlands ran to gather up the wounded, and mount the Rowgors.
Ishea now came forward, calling out to her hunters, “do as the King commands”, she said, like the Nomads, the Norgonie quickly obeyed. She bent down beside Arn and spoke in a low voice, “she will survive, I promise”, she could see the look in Arns eyes, as he nodded his head. Although she smiled, it was to hide a lie, the spear she had thrown had missed its mark, killing the Sagar and not the Half-Soul woman.
As they rode swiftly back to the Fortress, Arn held the body of his mate in his arms, her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow and deep. The King had seen this many times after a battle, it was the time, when Horcon the God of Destiny, decided who should live and who should die.
War is the work of humans and fighting is the way of the Nomads. When the battlefield is quiet and the wounded are taken to their tents, it is left to the hands of the Touchtenders to care for them. Using their skill and knowledge of healing herbs, they would work to save the lives of those who were in their merciful hands. They and everyone else knew that it would not be the ancient methods of the healers, who would bring back life to the dying. It would be the wisdom of Horcon, who would set them on the path of the living, or whisper in the ear of Isarie, who would then call their souls to the Afterlife.
All this mattered little to Arn, all he cared about was the woman in his arms and finding a way to save her. As he rode through the dark forest, he spoke to any God who would listen.
“Hear me now you Gods, it is Arn, King of the Madrigal who speaks, save this woman and I will become your slave. Take from me whatever you wish, but give back life to my mate, do this an
d I am yours”. He waited for a moment then spoke again, “and if you do not, I will pull down every temple, I will break every statue and I will burn every book, so that no one will remember your names!”
We cannot say for certain if any Gods heard the angry words spoken by the King. In days to come he would have to pay the price for his blasphemy.