Nomads of the Gods
Gary Mark Lee
NOMADS of the GODS
By
GARY MARK LEE
Published by author
Gary Mark Lee
At
Copyright 2013 by Gary Mark Lee Edition 3
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Table of Contents (cont.)
Memory
Chapter 1. Orphans of the Stars
Chapter 2. The Nomads
Chapter 3. The Falling Star
Chapter 4. Gods and Men
Chapter 5. The Rite of Kings
Chapter 6. Captives
Chapter 7. The Hand of God
Chapter 8. Rumblings
Chapter 9. Shadows and Light
Chapter 10. The Hunt
Chapter 11. Laughter in the Night
Chapter 12. The Stone City
Chapter 13. Fire and Ice
Chapter 14. A Hard Choice
Chapter 15. Earth-shaker
Chapter 16. Warriors Weep
Chapter 17. Mazes
Chapter 18. The Gathering
Chapter 19. The Talk-Stone
Chapter 20. The Word of God
Chapter 21. The Challenge
Chapter 22. Fire in the Sky
Chapter 23. Hands and Hearts
Chapter 24. The Judgment
Chapter 25. Outcasts
Chapter 26. Partings
Chapter 27. The Tears of Isarie
Chapter 28 The Sky-Riders
Table of Contents (cont.)
Chapter 29. Anoc time
Chapter 30. The Oath of Blood
Chapter 31. Hunters and the Hunted
Chapter 32. The Shadow-men
Chapter 33. The Angel of Death
Chapter 34. The Hollow Hills
Chapter 35. Lords of the Underworld
Chapter 36. The Crystal Spiders
Chapter 37. Sun Song
Chapter 38. Death Bringers
Chapter 39. Underworld
Chapter 40. The Burning Time
Chapter 41. Rebirth
Chapter 42. The Twin Dragons
Chapter 43. Fathers and Sons
Chapter 44. The New Land
Chapter 45. War in the Outlands
Chapter 46. Return of the Outcasts
Chapter 47. Exiles of the Gods
Chapter 48. Death Skies
Chapter 49. Red Ruin
Chapter 50. The Gods Arise
Chapter 51. Moon rise
ENDINGS
Map of Gorn
About the Author
Memory
Forgive me if I speak plainly, for I do not possess the word-speak of the scholars of Torogona, nor can I fill the air with the Oparian's sing-song language. I can only say what, is, in my mind, with the simple words of a star traveler but I will speak the truth. So sit and listen and I will tell you of many things few have come to know and understand. If I stumble in my lettering, or mistakenly use a word, I should not, I hope, you will understand, I write this with a shaking hand. Although the ages weigh heavily upon me, my mind is still clear, I see yesterday as if it were today. My life is an open book and in it, the wisdom of the stars.
There are few who remember anything from the age of the Outlanders and none who remember it all. Now, as I sit, weary with age and memory, I think back on the people of the Wastelands, my mind fills with images of their faces. They roll past my inner eye so clearly, young and old, strong and the weak. I remember all the long days and longer nights of my life. I think back on the centuries before me, wondering if others such as I, have looked back upon their time, to think as I do. Is life just a remembrance of lives past and future? Are there new futures to come? I do not know, all I have, are these few memories, burning in my mind like the fires of Gorn
Gorn! A name that holds all the mysteries of the heavens. Gorn, a place of wonder and terror, Gorn, a land where The Chosen of the Gods, still lift their arms to the sky and pray. I must start at the beginning and let my story speak for itself, to any who care to listen.
Long after the fall of Great Sal-Sinarie, long before the age of the Urans, the galaxy was without direction or purpose. The Outer Rim worlds exiled themselves from The Gathering, they no longer traveled the star ways, to trade or share wisdom. Great republics came and went, in an endless series invasions and war, leaving most of the Core Worlds in ruin.
With each passing year's inevitable losses, the small number of giant ships moving between the systems, waned. None were built and the knowledge of their building and how they worked, became known to a select few. After the last of the Trajion Wars, the less well traveled regions of space, were at the mercy of lawless marauders. It was at the end of this time that a few of the Inner Core's more civilized worlds, began to reach out.
In this Awakening, came the motive force of The Second Gathering, uniting with one great idea. The Inner Core began working to return peace, order, and knowledge, to a sleeping galaxy. As the new Age of Reason slowly advanced into the dark regions, more worlds joined, some willingly others less so, to secure their place in the new order and their share of the Second Gathering's technology. One by one, ancient worlds of the Outer Rim rose from their Dark Age, to walk in the light of The Second Gathering.
I was a prophet of those times, a member of the elite, certain of my place in the universe, eager, to spread the blessings of civilization, some called it Empire, others Destiny. Both saw me land on a score of backward worlds that I sought unceasingly to change, convince and convert. I saw many strange lands and spoke in strange tongues to even stranger creatures. I am one of the living few, to have seen the reclusive Kaylon who live for millennia, in the dark caverns of their ice-shrouded world. I have shared, their communion with the life force and their vast intelligence, I have heard them whispering to the stars and heard the star's slow answer.
A pilgrim was I, a Holy Palmer to the city named Eternity, where I looked into the face of Helox, the oldest living creature of the galaxy. She spoke to me of Worlds beyond Worlds and of many things I did not understand. I have sat in the assemblages of the Xtralion Alliance, listened to their Elders debate the future of the galaxy, the very paths of the stars.
I was one of the few, content in the knowledge that I was one of The Chosen of the Gods. Now, as my end draws near, I sit and wonder, at all I have seen, heard and done and I weep. My faith in the face of history, was as dust to a windstorm of change, worthless. In spite of all my work, all my belief and wisdom, I will die and be forgotten, returning to the stars whence I came. I will become as dust and all shall be gone, changed during the birth of new worlds. Nothing will mark my passage, my work undone. In the fullness of time, I who have traveled the long roads of hidden space, have discovered that all of my travels were in vain. With these eyes, I have watched worlds die, worlds born and yet did not see the truth.
I listen each day in my solitude, for the voice of the stars but hear only the empty echo of, my failing heart. I hear little, though my eyes are dim, I still see. Not the darkness, nor the emerald pastures of paradise, so many believe in. I see twin suns, rising over ancient snow capped mountains. I see sand, blown on dry winds from the burning Salgar Dunes. I imagine, I feel its warm sting on my wrinkled face. I imagine hearing the roaring cries of the Earth Shakers, as they lumber over the green Sirolian plains, I smell the spring rain on warm rock, I close my eyes and weep. Full of desperate longing, to return to the place where the Outlanders roamed, strong and free. My heart draws near to the faces in my memory. I yearn with all my soul, once more to ride across the trackless lands of my beloved Gorn.
I want to go home.
