The Gods of Garran

by Meredith Skye

"What danger?" asked Sindke. Had it been a dream or was it real? Asta wasn't even sure.

  "Is it the Chanden?" asked Jarvaine. Asta made no reply.

  Jarvaine climbed out of the ravine and scanned the horizon, then came back down. "I saw something. I think they're following us."

  "Impossible," said Moorhen. "How do they know where we are?"

  Jarvaine looked at Asta. He came over to her, pulled out his laser and held it to her head. "How do they know?" He powered the laser up. "Tell me!"

  She stared at him. The situation wasn't working. Something had to change. Purple, orange, green.

  "I said--tell me!" something hit her. She opened her eyes to see Jarvaine, waving the gun at her. He had hit her with it.

  "A locator," she said.

  "Give it to me," he said.

  "It's internal," she managed to say.

  "That's it. We leave her, we have to," said Jarvaine. Even Sindke had no other answer. Movement on the ridge above them caught Jarvaine's eye. "They're coming!" He shoved Asta to the ground. "Get the stone!"

  Asta struggled to recover but before she knew what was happening Moorhen grabbed the bag from her and ran. She started after him but the pain hit her immediately and she buckled to her knees. "No!" she screamed.

  "I'll kill her," said Jarvaine.

  "No!" said Sindke.

  Red, yellow, pale blue. The sun setting on an ocean of glass. Sitting across a fire with other Garrans. Murmuring.

  Pain enveloped Asta and she knew that Moorhen had escaped with the stone. She opened her eyes and saw laser fire. Up to her right she saw Chanden enforcers. With her last strength she got up and ran for them. They'd help. They'd get the stone.

  She stumbled into a group of them and they nearly shot her.

  "Asta!" one man shouted. "She's one of us!" He made his way over to her. It was Ruben. But Asta's head was swimming. She felt unsteady.

  "Are you all right?" asked Ruben, taking her hands to steady her. "You look terrible! Did they hurt you?"

  She ignored the question. None of that mattered. "They've got the stone," she told him. "You've got to catch them."

  "We will," He said. "When you stopped reporting, we feared the worst. We've been on your tail ever since. I knew you'd come through."

  Asta was in too much pain to reply.

  "Do you need a medic?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," she grimaced.

  "Get the stone!" Ruben signaled to a team of five soldiers, standing nearby. They nodded and took off. Asta followed. Half running, half falling she made her way down the slope after the Chanden, despite Ruben's objections. He followed. His laser drawn.

  Pale green, white, brown.

  Strange music, a familiar melody.

  Asta ran after the Garrans, half blind.

  Suddenly Asta realized that they'd stopped. She'd lost time again. They'd captured the Garrans. She hurried over to where the Chanden held them, taking their weapons. Moorhen lay on the ground, stunned. Sindke was wounded. She didn't see Jarvaine.

  Asta ran to over Moorhen. She ripped the bag from him.

  "We trusted you," said Moorhen, a deep hurt in his eyes. Asta had no answer for him. She had the stone--that was all that mattered. The pain in her mind eased. She turned and walked back towards Ruben and the others.

  "You have it?" asked Ruben. "Let me see."

  She hesitated and finally pulled the stone out of the bag. It glowed a pale blue. The others stared at it. Ruben picked it up and immediately dropped it.

  He turned to the others. "I thought I felt it move!"

  Carefully Asta picked it up and wrapped it in its cloth. She slipped the stone back in the bag. "They say it's cursed. It will drive you mad," Asta said coldly.

  Ruben could think of no response. None of the others argued with Asta as she shouldered the bag.

  As they walked back to the ship, Ruben tried to put his arm around her. "I was so worried about you."

  She pulled back from him. "Don't touch me," she said, angry. Surprised, he withdrew his arm. She continued up the hill towards the ship without him.

  Asta watched vacantly as the Garrans were loaded in an airship. Moorhen glared at her, sullenly. It didn't matter--the stone was hers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Their airship touched down at the security port in Urrlan. Having the pouch with the godstone this long had calmed Asta. Colors remained: lavender, aqua, gold.

  She had been asleep and when she woke she knew that she had been talking to someone, having an important conversation but she couldn't remember what about. She wanted to continue it but it faded from memory.

  Miserable, the Garrans sat in the back guarded by several soldiers. A twinge of guilt passed through Asta, for having betrayed the Garrans. She’d led the Chanden to them.

  Once the doors opened, she followed the soldiers out and onto the landing bay, where she waited while Ruben held a conversation with his superiors.

  Soldiers unloaded the Garrans and brought them over to wait, not far from Asta. Other soldiers arrived to take the prisoners. No one said what would happen to them.

  As the soldiers herded them past, Moorhen stopped. "Help us, Asta. You owe us that!" They pulled him away. It was out of her hands. Their fate wasn't up to her.

  Anyway, they had the thing they wanted. The godstone was awake again.

  Mauve, gray, black. The pain in her head eased somewhat, but guilt still ate at her. Would the gods forgive her or did she need to forgive herself?

  Chitchat. Conversation that Asta couldn't really follow, which she answered in monosyllables.

  A jump in time and they stood at the intersection of a corridor--Asta, Ruben and two security guards.

  "You should get some rest," said Ruben. "I can't believe you pulled this off--on your first solo mission. I was very impressed." He looked proud, but none of it mattered. He tried to talk to her more, but she gave him little encouragement.

  "All right," Ruben said at last. "You're tired. After the medical exam, you can sleep."

  The guard came and took the stone from Asta. She could have resisted but she didn't. She let him have it, wincing slightly at the increase in pain. "Where will you take it?"

  "Just into a holding cell for tonight, to keep it safe," said Ruben. "Tomorrow, we'll have it shipped off-world, for safe keeping and study. Best not to leave it here."

  Ruben and the two security guards left Asta standing in the hallway, empty-handed. She watched them go.

  They would not keep it.

  ^ ^ ^ ^ *

  She found herself in bed and woke with a start. Not her own bed nor a Garran bed, but a bed on the base. Vaguely she remembered a medical check-up they'd given her, telling her she was fine. No injuries.

  It was the middle of the night. Asta got up, dressed and walked into the hall. The scene was slow, dreamlike. She held a gun in her coat.

  Crimson, flame, flesh-tone.

  Up the stairs and past the security station that all but ignored her. "Just getting some air," she said. They nodded. Down the hall, up the stairs. Down another hallway over to where a man stood guarding a door.

  "Any trouble?" asked Asta.

  "No," the man said. "Seems--"

  Asta shot him. He fell. She had remembered to put it on stun, hadn't she?

  She opened the door and went in. The stone was there, in a bag. Asta checked it--it glowed red. She took the bag. Outside the room, Asta dragged the guard back into the cell and locked it.

  Hallways, guns, security. It was all a blur. Asta made her way out of the building. Ruben didn't matter. Her father didn't matter. She had a goal in mind: the Temple of the Stars.

  There was a stolen vehicle, a short drive, a few startled pedestrians and a large doorway. The temple.

  Burgundy, blue-green, cream. Pictures formed and reformed in her mind, shapes, objects, meanings. All just out of reach. A message that she couldn't hear.

  She was through the door and into the temple, which was now a museum. She brok
e some glass and entered a doorway. She shot another guard. Had she killed him?

  She kept going up the stairs, up through several rooms to the Chamber of Souls. There she stopped a moment, unsure of where to go. Too many things were changed. The Chanden had covered over many parts of the ancient temple.

  Glass cases displayed ancient Garran artifacts: pottery, weapons, a few sacred ooluks not too different from Asta's, some golden masks of a ceremonial nature, decorative pipes for smoking--probably also ceremonial.

  Along another wall were more displays: elaborate priest clothing, robes and cloaks, senchai daggers and helmets, delicate bone and glass necklaces, all made long ago. Drums, chineth flutes, zhri lythes and yothars. Most of these things did not belong here. All were from varied, scattered time periods, different tribes, different uses. None of which were comprehended by the Chanden who built this museum on the remains of a sacred Borrai temple. All stolen from the Garrans.

  Asta broke a case and took a silver helmet of fine make, along with a jeweled ceremonial dagger and cloak. She smashed another case and took a crystal medallion that reflected rainbow colors: maroon, sky-blue, and orange-yellow. This she put around her neck. But these were not what she was looking for.

  She looked farther and found it: a single hexagonal crystal lined with gold and silver and a rune on the top: "bor"--god. The key. On the dais at the front of the room, she inserted the key in the large stone mural. There was a clicking sound and the rush of air, stale and ancient, as a secret door opened behind the dais.

  Asta removed the key and entered, closing it after her. Here she stood in the Hall of the Ancients--a long narrow chamber whose ceiling tapered to a point high above her. The walls were lined with all manner of crystal, many of which were a deep red color. The floor was an elaborate mosaic of stone with pictures that represented many of the original clans.

  On the wall in the center was a circular carving of crystal and gold which had a small opening in its center just large enough to hold the godstone. Connected to this, in front of it, was an altar inside a golden circle.

  A panic surged over Asta--she knew what was coming. She had struggled thus far to maintain partial control of her mind from whatever the godstone contained. But here the godstone had been made--and here it would be unmade. The intelligence that possessed the stone now fought to possess her. This chamber would release it.

  Something drew her towards the wall and she felt a wave of dizziness. As in a dream she walked forward and took out the godstone and placed it in the center of the crystal carving. The godstone was also a key. All that remained was to kneel at the altar and the deed would be done.

  Asta knew if she did this, she would lose the battle for her mind. The gods would take possession of her fully. Impelled by the forces of the stone she took several steps towards the altar and stopped.

  She mustn't do it. Whatever was in that stone would probably be hostile to the Chanden and herself. But she didn't know that for sure. She thought back on the gentle music she'd heard, the colors. They didn't speak of vengeance or anger, but of justice and harmony.

  Asta found herself standing in front of the altar. In the center sat a single crystal which now glowed red. With all her heart, Asta resisted and stopped just short of kneeling at the altar. It was what they wanted--it would give them power over her. She wouldn't give up her own soul for some alien cause.

  A vision burst on her mind of a thousand clan warriors gathered on a plain. Then from the sky came Chanden attack ships that shot lasers, scattering the warriors--dealing out death and destruction. Hundreds died at a time and each death pained Asta terribly.

  The shock of the pain forced Asta to her knees and she reached out to the golden rail that encircled the altar to steady herself, still not willing to touch the red crystal that the godstone continued to try to draw her towards.

  The vision shifted and Asta saw the death of many Eke herds across the plains as the Chanden hunted them for sport. Then the capture of many of the remaining ones for domestication--and their slaughter by the hundreds for processing as food that would be shipped to other worlds for sale.

  Then Asta saw the razing of the jungles on the Kinsikk Sea--the annihilation of an entire bios-culture in favor of an alien biology. Even the death of these plants and animals caused Asta pain.

  The focus of the vision shifted, showing other atrocities committed by the Chanden down through the ages. Then other wrongs committed by the Garrans also, such as their wrongs against the tacha--turning them out of their natural area and taking it over for Garran dwellings. Driving the tacha away and killing them when it suited the Garrans.

  Then Asta saw the attack of the Sand Plain people on the Chanden village less than a week ago and the deaths of many unarmed Chanden as well as the slaughter of the clan by the Chanden enforcers.

  Then Asta saw things that she had not heard news of: attacks by the Chanden on gatherings of Garrans and their deaths. Another unprovoked attack by the Garrans on Chandens just outside Urrlan. A whole series of violent outbursts that grew each time in intensity. The war had escalated.

  After that the godstone showed her the future--how it might end in bloodshed and battle between the two as they continued to fight and to extract their own justice.

  But the earth itself had its own form of justice. Asta perceived that the godstone had the power to force her to do this. It was showing her in order to gain her cooperation--but it didn't have to. It was giving her a choice--to join it in stopping a terrible war and righting wrongs that had spanned a hundred years.

  Asta knew that what the Chanden had done to the Garrans wasn't right but there was a deeper issue here--something even more primal, with respect to the earth and life. In a corner of her mind she could still hear the music and feel the colors changing, moving.

  She could run--escape from here and take the godstone with her but what then? Give it to the Chanden? And what would they do with it? Put it in a box and ship it to a planet light years from here for study in some lab? But she couldn't do that--it was alive. Half of its consciousness had already joined with Asta's own mind. She was sure that would kill her.

  But what was the godstone? She didn't even know this. The consciousness of the world, somehow?

  Even if Asta rescued the Garrans from prison and gave the godstone to them, what would they do with it? They weren't without guilt in this war. That didn't seem right. Anyway, it had already bonded with her. She didn't feel that the stone was evil--but her mind felt so confused.

  And the war had to be stopped or many more people would die. There were other ways besides the Chanden way and the Garran way. The godstone held its own solutions. And something more wondrous--the understanding of the Ancients.

  But there were dark places in Asta's heart. She had helped kill the priest Jaynanth. She was Chanden; this was a Garran artifact. Would it reject her and drive her mad as Sindke had said? Already the contact with the stone had magnified the guilt she'd already felt, magnified the pain in her heart. That was her deepest fear--that she was unworthy.

  Was her soul one that the godstone could accept or would it destroy her?

  Or perhaps this was this the path to absolution?

  If she gave up her life now, then the priest's death would be forgiven? Where else would she get that kind of forgiveness? Not from herself. She'd hated her life anyway, had hated it for years. This isn't the person she wanted to be.

  Drawn by this thought, Asta bent forward and touched the stone. Light burst forth in her mind and washed through her body. Knowledge filled it, no longer hidden in the corners of her mind. There was a merging of memories and a surge of light then the godstone ceased to glow.

  Inside Asta, memories clashed as wave upon wave of memories flooded her mind. Every corner of her mind was open to review. Mercilessly, the entity from the godstone raided every sacred place she'd kept. She no longer had the power to resist. Instead of finding peace and forgiveness, the pain increased.

 
She felt accused. Humiliated.

  She cried out. What did it want? She'd tried to do the right thing. She fought the dizziness but soon lost.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The airship landed in the main city of Urrlan; a place Moorhen had never been.

  The Chanden soldiers led Moorhen and Rheggi into a large building and then downstairs to a holding cell. They had taken Sindke to a hospital. Moorhen hoped that she could recover. Rheggi's wound had been bandaged; they didn't look serious. Moorhen himself had a few wounds from the fight, along with a some bruises which he acquired after his arrest.

  The soldiers put Moorhen and Rheggi in a cold, dark cell. The Chanden had building methods that were different from the Garrans. Their buildings had an odd odor--not the smell of a home but of chemicals and foreign materials. It wasn't something Moorhen had ever gotten used to.

  The search for the godstone had failed. The Garrans had lost it--and with it their hope for the future. Sindke could be dying. The old ways were vanishing as the Chandens erased their culture and destroyed the wisdom of the Ancients.

  What could the godstone possibly mean to them? It angered Moorhen. They had put up long enough with these invaders. And Asta--she was just as bad--lying to him and the others. She pretended to be god-touched--all so that she could help the Chanden steal the stone. And she freely admitted it.

  Maybe what upset him the most was that he had begun to care for her, or at least for the person he thought she was. But he was mistaken. He sighed. It wasn't the only mistake he'd made.

  "I've failed our people," Moorhen said to Rheggi. "Father was right. I'm useless."

  Rheggi looked up at him, looking even more tired and ragged than usual. These last few days had been hard on him. "Your father didn't mean all those things he said against you. He relied on you more than you know."

  "Me?" asked Moorhen. "I'm no warrior. If I had been, we'd still have the godstone."

  Rheggi moved over closer to Moorhen and put his hand on his shoulder. "No, you weren't much of a warrior. But in family matters and matters of the clan-cave, there was no one better. He trusted you more than anyone."