Chapter 29. The Undying God
Isarie fought her father, Arm-Ra for control of the heavens, the war raged throughout the cosmos, and many worlds were crushed under their feet. They used the stars as burning weapons, and blinding flames filled the sky. The sound of their war cries, echoed in the vast cavern of time and space, and all creatures hid from their fury. At last, Isarie struck a blow that wounded her father so gravely that he lay down and closed his eyes. The Goddess wept, for she knew that someday her time would also come, and another God would take her place.
Ancient Nomad story.
Valen continued to watch, as the Iron God healed itself.
The metal servants, emerged from their master’s body, and began the task of healing its wounds. They worked by day and by night, always moving, never stopping to rest or eat or sleep. They removed the broken and crushed pieces, replacing them with scavenged sections, from the fallen Lightship. They even employed the remains of the Earthshaker, in their design. The great skull of the titanic beast, was cleaned of all flesh, then mounted on the front of the great machine. There it would strike fear, into the hearts of all who saw it.
Some, of the animal's flesh, was taken into the Gods body, to be rendered down, and used as organic nourishment for the Orb, and its supporting mechanisms. The larger robotic machines, gathered up what little Eul there was, and after repairing the great holding section, they filled it with the burning rock. The Caladone warrior watched as they drained small pools of water, to quench the thirst of their master.
Now at a safe distance, Valen nodded his head, “the monster eats and drinks and heals”, he said to his Whiptail, “even Gods must fill their bellies”.
The young warrior had done the same for himself and his mount, he was lucky enough to kill a small Rimar, and together they feasted, while watching the healing of the Iron God.
“Soon the creature will be strong again, and then, he will continue his journey”. The Whiptail gave no response to these words, and continued to nibble on the carcass of the Tundra beast. The Caladon warrior took a small sip from his water flask, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at the great steel monster and raised his war-ax. “You may be able to heal yourself, so can I, and I will never stop following you, even if you travel to the ends of the earth!”
The twin suns were directly overhead, when the monster began to move once more. Again there was a great roaring sound and a blast of hot steam, the great wheels began to turn, Atos was on the move.
Inside the chamber of the Orb, the Darkman heard the report from the Task-robot.
“All systems repaired, locomotion at maximum levels, fuel reserves are adequate.” It stood near the Main Console and the other sub-controllers. Its tentacles were attached to the machines, interfacing with them, “awaiting orders”, it said.
At that moment, the Orb was being supplied with organic nutrients, there was a pause as its great bulk fluctuated, inside its transparent sphere. When it had consumed what it needed, it spoke.
“Continue heading to the south, locomotion at level two.”
“At once”, replied the Task-robot, it relayed the command to the consoles, Power, Weapons, Navigation, all responded the same way.
“Understood”, they said in unison.
The repaired machine, gave out with a shudder, and once again continued South.
When his enemy started to move, Valen mounted his Whiptail and dug in his spurs. The young warrior shouted out a war cry of the Caladons, then raced after the fleeing God.
He continued to follow it all day, and all night, never stopping, never giving up the chase. When the night moons rose, he did not look up at them, but kept his vision fixed on the Iron God. When the morning suns rose over the horizon, he saw that he was nearing the land of the Talsonar.
He could not see the beacon yet, but he knew that in a day or two more, he would be able to look upon the great pyramid of the city dwellers. He pulled up on the reins of his mount, and stopped near a small pool of clear water. The Whiptail lowered its horned head and began drinking deeply, the young warrior lifted his water flask and did the same. When he had slaked his thirst, he spoke to himself. “The fallen God journeys towards the great city, why would it do such a thing?”
Valen could not understand this, surely the God needed nothing from the half-souls and even if it did, it had nothing to trade. He realized that the monster was not going to the city of the Talsonar for trade, it was going there to war! This made him smile, “Ashra-Doom could not destroy you, but he was a creature of the Outlands, the Talsonar live in a stone mountain, and their weapons are many”. Then something entered his mind, he realized that his tribe would be traveling near the great pyramid, as the made their way towards the pass of Moke. It was their regular route, this time of the cycle.
If they should meet Atos, what would become of them? Another Outcast, might have turned away and left his tribe to their fate, Valen was not that kind. He understood what would happen, if their path should cross that of the Iron God.
They would attack and try to defend their lands; remembering the pain in his mind, he knew that their efforts would be in vain.
The young warrior had two quests now, one to avenge the slaughter of his kin, and the other to stop his tribe from suffering the same fate. He dug in his long spurs and raced out over the Outlands, towards the City of the Talsonar.
“Fuel consumption is at acceptable levels, hydrogen and oxygen intake, is falling”, the Task-robot reported, “we must obtain more or locomotion will cease”.
The engines that drove the great machine, needed more water to generate steam, the consumption of the liquid was far greater, than the burning of Eul. So the steel monster had to stop frequently, to refill its water tanks, then it could continue onwards. Being the time of the cycle when rain was abundant, there were many small lakes and pools in the Outlands. To replenish the needs of the God, the pumps would need time, to do their work and do it often.
“Find water and refill”, the Orb said.
The Task-robot, thought it was a bit odd that its master should use the human term “water” instead of a more precise terminology. It did not want to question the wording of the command, and proceeded to relay the order to Navigation.
“Scan for H2O replenishment capabilities and coordinate a heading to intercept”.
“Understood”, replied the Console, there was a slight jolt as the great machine turned to a new heading, in compliance with the Orb's orders.
The Darkman sat near the Task-robot, he was unable to move, because his two metal legs had been removed, to be enhanced with even more powerful drive motors. The Cybernetic human waited impatiently, he stared at his missing limbs. Although he could see that, he no longer had legs of flesh and bone, he still felt the urge to scratch an itch, on his left foot. When he reached down he found nothing but a small spotter robot, working on a connecting conduit. Annoyed he tried to lift his leg to crush the tiny metal creature, he could not. With an awkward movement, he reached down, and picked up the shiny creature in his steel hand, after looking at it for a moment, he closed his fist, the Spotter was no more. It was a silly useless thing to do, but it pleased the half-human, it made him laugh, as he did the Orb spoke to him.
“Why do you make that sound?”
“Because I am content”, replied the Shadowman.
For a moment or two, the Orb thought this over, then it spoke again, “destroying one of my workers, brings contentment to you?” it asked again.
At this the Darkman laughed once more, “of course, you are the God of War, do you not feel joy at destroying your enemies?”
The Orb did not reply, no more words passed between the great mind and the metal man, it heard him laugh again.
Near Sunfall, Valen spotted his tribe's wagons, he had ridden hard and fast, leaving the Iron God behind. He knew that soon the monster would drink its fill, then continue on its path. From a small hilltop, he looked down on the Caladon cam
p, he could see the Holy Wagon of the High Priestess, surrounded by her Thungodra warriors, near that was the King's tent. In the failing light, he could just make out the Spikebacks, and their long-range weapons. They no longer had disruptors, they had been destroyed in the war with the Talsonar. He could see the camp fires of the Elders as well as those of the warriors. He knew that the children of his tribe, would also be with them.
I cannot let them perish; he thought; I must try to save them.
That was not easy to do, he was an Outcast. Any member of his tribe, was bound by the law, to kill him on sight. Looking at the Washa fires, he heard faint singing from the Elders, he had to try.
Saying a little prayer to Isarie, he rode down from his mound, towards the people who had exiled him.
In the camp of the Caladon, all was contentment, they had killed many Rimar, and the smell of freshly baked Kasha bread, filled the air. Around the King's tent, were numerous warriors who were laughing, and lifting their drinking horns, in praise of their King, for he had led them with wisdom and courage.
“HAIL TOBAR!” they shouted joyously.
Tobar was a short man by Nomad standards, he was broad across the shoulders and thick armed. He had an open face, and on his left cheek, he bore the three marks, of a King of the Outlands. Tobar was known for being a strong drinker and a brave warrior. Above all he was a man who loved a good story. It was also said that his mate, had a voice that could bend steel, so the King spent most of his time, away from his tent. On this night, the Queen was in her mother's tent that left plenty of time for Tobar to drink and laugh, and to talk about, one of his many past deeds. He began a story that he had told a thousand times before, but no one dared complain.
“I was only a young lad of three cycles, when I was attacked by ten Hagars from the north, my Whiptail had frozen to death, and I was left on my own.” The number of Hagars, grew larger as the King grew older, it was still a good story, one that the warriors loved to hear. “I killed two of them with the first swing of my ax, then the rest of them, set upon me like Sagar cats. I pulled out my dragons tooth, and drove it into one of them so hard, it came out of his back and into another!”
At this, the warriors gave out a laugh, the King continued his tale. “It was then that I picked up one of the icemen in my bare hands, and broke him in two, I seized another by the neck and...”
Before he could continue his dubious story, a young warrior rushed into the light of the campfire.
“Forgive me my King, Valen the Outcast draws near”, he said breathing hard.
Tobar rose to his feet and looked at his warriors, “gather your weapons and follow me”.
They did as their leader commanded, taking up their war-axes, they followed the King, as he ran to his Whiptail.
The twin suns were disappearing as Valen approached his tribe, he did not pray, but he gripped his ax hard. He knew that he was breaking a sacred law of the Outlanders, but his desire to save his people, outweighed his own safety. Gathering up his courage, he rode forward.
As he drew up over a small rise, he saw a group of warriors riding fast towards him. He could see that Tobar was leading them, from the speed of their Whiptails, he knew they were eager to meet him. He rode towards them for a moment more, then halting his mount near a large rock, he waited.
Tobar is still a swift rider; he thought.
It only took a short time, until he could see the hate in the King's eyes, rather than lift his weapon in defense, he left it at his side. There was nothing to donow, but wait, and hope that this gesture might keep him alive, long enough to tell of the danger, soon to come for them all.
Tobar screamed out a war cry of his people, and raised his weapon so that he might strike the first blow. As he grew closer to the Outcast, he saw that he had dropped his weapon. He was not being a man who took contentment, in killing a defenseless opponent, so he lowered his ax and called out to his warriors to do the same. They had created a great cloud of dust, so the King waited until it had settled, then he looked into the eyes of the warrior, he had cast out.
“Why do you return to your death?” he asked the young man.
“I have come to warn you”, he replied.
Tobar drew nearer the Outcast, holding his weapon at the ready, “and what danger should I fear?” he asked.
“Atos draws near”, Valen replied.
The King continued to look into the Outcast warrior's eyes and priding himself on being able to know when a man was lying and when he was not. He waited for tell-tail signals on Valen's face, he saw no such signs. “You will follow us back to camp, there we will unravel this knot of deception.”
Valen rode back to their camp, after his Whiptail, armor, and weapons, were taken from him, he told them of his encounter with the Iron God, and the death of Hasgar and his people. He told them how he vowed revenge and about the pain, when he drew near to his enemy. He told them how the God moved without Trofars or sails, and how it gathered Eul and water. He told them about the metal servants and the strange man who lived within the body of the God. Lastly he told them about the death of Ashra-Doom, and how its body, was used to repair the God. He talked long into the night, explaining in great detail, events of the past days and nights, and when he was done, he waited for the King to speak.
Tobar and his warriors, sat around the campfire and listened closely to the words of the young warrior. As they did, they feasted on succulent Rimar meat and warm Kasha bread, which they washed down, with tankards of well-aged Po. Now it was time for the King to speak, so Tobar rose to his feet and lifted his drinking horn.
“To Valen, and the greatest story I ever heard!” He began to laugh, and with him all the men and woman surrounding him also laughed. All the while, the young warrior stood alone, and his face did not smile.
They do not believe me; Valen thought; I cannot blame them for I would do the same if I were listening.
When at last the laughter died away, the King put his hand on Valens shoulder, “I have lived a long time, and heard many fantastic tales, but yours is the greatest of all”, he said smiling. “I think you have been eating too much Boda, you refused to bow down to me, and therefore I made you an Outcast”.
“I will bow to you now, if that is what you wish”, the young Caladon replied. If it meant saving his tribe he would do so.
Tobar just laughed, “bow or not you are still an Outcast, and by the laws of the Outlands, you must die”. Hearing him say this, his warriors grabbed the young warrior's arms and bound them behind his back.
Valen did not resist or speak, as they did, as they were taking him away, he called back to the Caladon King, “flee this place before it is too late!”
Tobar only laughed again and took another gulp of his sour wine.
A short distance away, the great machine continued on its course, all creatures that it encountered ran from its path, those that did not, were crushed under the heavy treads of the Iron God.
“All systems functioning normally”, the Task-robot reported. “Locomotion capabilities, can be maintained for twelve point seven time periods”.
“Understood”, the Orb replied, “continue on course and maintain speed”.
The Darkman was too busy, trying out his new legs, to be interested in what his master had to say. He enjoyed the power that his new metal legs gave him. They had been enhanced, with more powerful drive motors, and the interconnections to his brain, made it possible for them to respond much more quickly. What he liked the most, were the two dagger like weapons that now protruded from his feet, they were very sharp and could be withdrawn, back into his legs until they were needed. As a test he suddenly struck out with his left foot, impaling one of the Spotter robots on the steel point, the small Repair-bot gave off a shower of sparks and a high pitched screeching. The Shadowman watched it wriggle about for a moment or two, then it laid still. He jerked his foot again, and the metal creature flew across the chamber, shattering against one of the bulkheads.
Th
e half-man, half-machine, looked down at his left arm; I must replace this with a better one; he thought. As he was about to order it done, the Task-robot made a report.
“Human life forms directly ahead”, it said.
There was no hesitation from the Orb, “destroy them”.
Tobar and his warriors continued to drink and laugh, as they told and retold the story that they had just heard. They all agreed that it was the best fable they had ever heard.
“Did you hear him, when he said that an iron beast killed Ashra-doom!” The King said, as he drank deep of his wine, “as if anything, could stand against the power of an Earth Shaker!” Hearing how silly his own words sounded, he again began to laugh. As he was about to lift his drinking horn to his lips once more, he felt the ground under him begin to shake.
At first he told himself that it was only an earth God moving in its sleep, when the shaking grew more intense, he knew that he was mistaken. Perhaps it is a herd of Rima? He knew that the great beasts, did not travel at night, then, the shaking grew more intense and he dropped his drink.
“Gather the warriors”, he shouted, “prepare for battle!”
The Caladons were strong warriors and their people brave, when war shouts began to fill the air, they did not panic, they began to do, what had to be done. All warriors, male and female alike, donned their armor and took up their weapons. The Whiptails were saddled and the long-range weapons manned. The Elders gathered up the children, putting them into their Karracks and covering them with blankets. They began to say prayers to the Goddess, for strength and courage. The loyal Thungodra surrounded the Holy wagon of the High Priestess, and the Handmaidens shielded their mistress with their bodies.
When all this was done, Tobar signaled to his warriors to gather around him. Under the light of the moons and the stars that looked down on them, the tribe of the Caladon waited, for whatever fate lay ahead.
Valen could feel the shaking, growing stronger and stronger, with each passing moment, he knew that the Iron God, was coming to destroy his people. There was little he could do now, for they had bound him to a wheel on the King's wagon. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not break the thick bonds that held him. Now, he had to watch helplessly, as the warriors rode into the darkness.
“Wait!” he called out, “you cannot defeat Atos, he is too strong!” They ignored his warning and soon he was left alone, with only the campfire and a few Elders, to stand guard over him.
Tobar led his warriors over the shaking ground, in the dim light of the night sky, he could only see the dark outline of something huge, moving towards him. That did not stop him from shouting out a battle cry, and spurring on his Whiptail. As he came up over a rise in the ground, he could see what was shaking the earth, for it was now silhouetted against the night moon called Italus.
It was true that Tobar had seen many great things. he had fought in the war with the Maringar, and watched as ten thousand warriors, died in a single day. He was present at the Rownac Dome, when it grumbled to the ground, and he had seen the great leviathans of the Western Sea. Not until now, had his eyes ever looked upon a monster such as this.
Valen was right; he told his mind; I was a fool for not believing him; The time for apologies was past, he knew that he must try to save his people. He turned to his warriors, and called out in a loud voice. “What we do this night, will be told around the campfires until the stars fall from the sky!” Shouting out an ancient war cry, he dug in his spurs and led his warriors forward.
“Enemy approaching”, reported the Task-robot, “weapons are primitive, shielding is at maximum”.
“Understood”, replied the Orb, “destroy them and bring me their heads!”
The Task-robot wondered why his master, would want to acquire their cranial cavities. There was no times for inquiries, the humans were fast approaching. “Maximum power to all shielding, deploy weapons!” it ordered.
The Command Consoles replied as one, “understood”.
The Darkman said nothing, he could feel a cold intelligence, moving into the corners of his mind. Showing him things he could not understand, visions of enemies floating in the vast emptiness of space, planets bursting apart in a holocaust of fire and death. It made him feel content.
Tobar continued to shout out cries of death, as he neared the great iron beast. Although he knew that he was going to die, he wanted to strike the first blow. As his Whiptail galloped over the hard ground, he suddenly felt a great pain in his head, he tried to ignore it, but with each stride of his mount, it became more intense. Then as the image of his enemy grew, until it blotted out the stars, he felt his weapon fall from his hand and he cried out in pain.
His Whiptail stumbled, and the King was thrown to the ground, he rolled over twice, then laid on his broad back. Around him, he could hear the shouts of his warriors, as they also felt the agony in their minds, one by one, they tumbled to the ground, screaming in pain. The earth under Tobar began to shake, like the pounding from a million Rimar hoofs, it began to crack like an ice sheet in winter, the air filled with a great roaring sound. The old King was not going to die on his back, summoning up all his remaining strength, he managed to rise to his feet and take up his fallen weapon. With his mind breaking from waves of pain, he turned to see the Iron God coming near. With the last ounce of his life, he swung his ax and felt it, strike the body of his enemy.
It was not known exactly how the King died, but it was said that he died laughing.
Valen could hear the screams of the dying warriors, as did the rest of his tribe. He pulled against the bindings that held him with all his might, but they would not break.
“Free me!” he shouted to an Elder, who stood shaking in fear. The old man did not hear him and ran off into the darkness. He pulled again at the thick Rimar skin that bound his hands to the wheel of the wagon, but they continued to hold him helpless.
Then sounded the report of the long-range weapons, he knew that Atos had broken through the warriors, and was about to enter the Caladon camp.
“FREE ME!” he called out again, no one came to his aid, as he continued to fight, he turned to see the sky fill with fire and smoke.
“Primary shielding holding at ninety percent,” said the Task-robot, “secondary shielding is repulsing steel projectiles, no damage to outer hull”.
“Understood” said the Orb, “continue attack, concentrate on projectile weapons”.
The Darkman suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to destroy; it seemed to swell up inside him, until it became an all-encompassing thought.
Kill them, kill them all!
Thinking this, he ran from the chamber, down the long corridor leading to the hatch to the outside. Once there, he grasped the handle and turned it until it was open. He left the protection of his God and entered the battlefield.
It was far from the place of glory and honor that the warriors of the Outlands wished for their life's end. It was a setting of slaughter and death. The Shadowman looked down, from his vantage point, on the body of the steel monster, he watched as the Caladon were destroyed. They lay on the ground and screaming in pain, as their minds were torn apart. Old and young alike died the same, the thing that attacked them, drew no distinction between a warrior and those who were defenceless. Those who had the strength, tried to save, those that did not, but their efforts were futile. They all died under the grinding treads of the huge beast.
The gigantic claws of Atos, also came into play, they reached out and took up the Nomad's wagons, lifting them like toys into the night air. With a sickening crash, they fell back to the ground, taking those within to their deaths.
Through all of this, the Darkman laughed.
“See the power of Atos!” he called out, “none can stand before him!”
Valen continued to struggle, until blood flowed from his wrists, and the muscles of his arms stood out like iron bands.
“Will no one free me!” he cried. Then he felt the pain in his mind, “no, I will not d
ie like this!” Once more he pulled with all his might, to his surprise, the bonds that held him broke, and he was free.
It would not matter, if he were free or not, he was still going to die. Fire and smoke, filled the air, mixed with blasts from the long-range weapons, and steam from the metal giant. The pain in his head was intense, he knew that if he could get far enough away, the pain would go away. With blurred eyes, he looked about him, he saw only death and destruction. He could see the Holy Wagon of the High Priestess, being torn to pieces, while the Tungodra tried to defend it. He watched as two great steel claws, reached out and took up the great wooden vehicle, then broke it in two, sending the Handmaidens tumbling to their deaths, and the Holy Mother to the Afterlife.
When he thought all was lost, a riderless Whiptail ran past him, reaching out, he grabbed one of the dangling reins and it pulled him away from the carnage. Out from the camp and into the night, the war beast stampeded, pulling the Outcast warrior to safety.
It was almost Sunbirth, when the screams from the Caladon camp ended, and the Shadowman walked slowly, through the broken wagons and the bodies of the slain.
All about him lay woman and children, the old and the young, the weak and the strong. They were now just lifeless shells of a once strong and mighty tribe. It did not matter to the half-man, he saw only a victory over a people that he hated.
They were my enemy; he thought; and my enemies deserve to die.
He sat down on a broken wine barrel and watched as the metal spiders did their work. They removed the heads of the dead, and began to carry them back to their master. It did not matter if they were young or old, they obeyed the commands given to them, they would follow those orders without question. When the last of the heads were gathered, the Repair-bots began to roundup anything that might be of value to the Orb. They loaded the long-range canon, along with as much ammunition as they could find, into the great machine. Next they searched for any weapons that might be of use to them, but they only found primitive defense mechanisms, of no use to them.
As the morning light began to fill the sky, the Darkman took one last look at the blood soaked ground; they deserved to die; he told his mind, then he returned to the darkness.
From his Whiptail, Valen could see the smoke rising from his people's destroyed camp, a strong odor of burning flesh, was carried on the air.
“They did not deserve to die”, he told his mount, “they were a strong people”, his Whiptail only pawed the ground and growled softly. It could smell the scent of death on the wind, it wanted to be somewhere else. It had taken some time, before the reptile, accepted Valen as its new rider. More than once, it had tried to turn and bite him, but a few hard pulls on the reins, a blow or two to its thick head and soon the beast settled down.
As Valen looked at the Iron God, slowly moving to the South again, he thought of all that he had seen, and all that he had tried to do.
I tried to seek revenge I was defeated; he mused; I tried to warn my people, I failed. I have done enough. He slowly turned his Whiptail, and began moving to the North; I have no armor or weapons, I can do no more. As he moved away from his enemy, something began to stir in his mind. You are still alive, you have not been defeated. He pulled back on the reins and stopped; you swore an oath, and you cannot break it!
Knowing that he spoke the truth to his mind, he turned his mount and once more, began to follow his enemy.