The Gods of Garran

by Meredith Skye

  "And I failed in that as well--I let Norbi die." Moorhen stood, brushing Rheggi aside.

  Rheggi shook his head. "Don't blame yourself, Moorhen. Ashtan was angry, but he was more angry at the Chanden than at you. You have a way about you that people trust. You speak your mind. These are good qualities. Be content with who you are."

  "Shall I be content to leave the godstone in their hands?" he asked angrily.

  "Perhaps it's not up to you," said Rheggi. "Do what you can do--no more."

  Moorhen sat and thought on this a long while before falling asleep.

  ^ ^ ^ ^ *

  The Chanden guards shook Moorhen awake early in the morning. "Get up, Garran-dog!" One of them kicked Moorhen a second time. Moorhen got up.

  "Come on," said another, herding Moorhen out of the cell. They cuffed his hands and he went with them, following them up several flights of stairs and through several security checkpoints.

  They brought him into a large room with black walls and tables. On the wall flickered a holographic projection of a map of Urrlan and the surrounding areas.

  One man stood out in control in the room. A Chanden Commander.

  "Where is Asta?" the man demanded.

  "I don't know. She's a traitor!" Moorhen was angry. "I don't care where she is!"

  The man glared at him. "I'm Koethe of Aggravis," he said. Koethe--the Commander of all the Chanden. Moorhen felt stunned.

  The Commander paused with what might have been embarrassment. "Last night Asta took the godstone and disappeared. We tracked her to the museum but lost her. We need to know where she would go."

  This news struck Moorhen as odd--Asta gone with the godstone and the Chanden didn't know where she was? "I'm not Shaheak. I don't have this knowledge."

  Koethe stepped closer to Moorhen. "But you were one of those looking for the stone. You must know something."

  "No," said Moorhen.

  Koethe moved closer to the map and pointed to a spot in the desert. "We know that the desert clans are massing in the eastern desert to attack our borders. We aren't blind to your rebellion."

  "Yes," said Moorhen dryly. "I'm sure Asta told you everything."

  "We'll be ready for your forces when they arrive. They'll be walking into an ambush. You're lucky you're not among them. Tell me where Asta is and maybe I can get you a light sentence."

  An ambush--the clans must be warned. "I told you," said Moorhen. "I don't know where she is and I don't care." This room held three people besides himself and Koethe. There was no way he could attack them all--even if his hands were free. This man was a danger. The Chanden had killed Moorhen's father and now this man plotted to wipe out their warriors. Moorhen vowed in his heart that he'd kill him and take revenge for the death of his father and the humiliation of his people.

  "Ungrateful rebel," muttered Koethe. Then to the guards. "Take him back."

  Roughly, they grabbed him and shoved him out of the room. Moorhen took heart at what Koethe had said about Asta. She had left the Chanden and taken the stone. Perhaps Sindke was right and the bonding had worked. If so, then there could be hope for Moorhen's people, if only he could warn them of the Chanden's plans.

  Moorhen had memorized the halls and the doors, noticing the card key that each man used to open the doors. He guessed which door the entrance was at. There were only two guards on him. Then when they had not gone far from the main level, Moorhen threw himself at one soldier, knocking him against the wall. He kicked the other one as he approached, winding him momentarily. Moorhen let himself fall to the floor and found the electronic key device on the first man's belt and released his own cuffs.

  But during this time the other man had recovered and drew his gun. Moorhen threw the lock at him. It hit him in the face, momentarily confusing him. Then Moorhen found the other's gun and stunned the second man.

  There wasn't much time. Now armed, Moorhen found their door key and hurried back to the main entrance. He stunned two guards, but the man at the desk sounded an alarm before Moorhen could shoot him. A moment later Moorhen was through the main doors and outside. He stopped when he realized there was a gate around the complex.

  Hoping to be able to climb over, Moorhen made a dash for the gate. He made it halfway to the gate before one of the outside security men stunned him. Still dazed Moorhen was hauled to his feet and taken back inside. Instead of putting him in his cell they put him in an airship. He was surprised when Koethe boarded with him.

  "I'm going to look for Asta," said Koethe, "And I'm taking you with me. You will help me."

  "No," said Moorhen. "I'm no traitor--not like Asta."

  "Asta is my daughter," said Koethe. "And if you and your people harm her, I'll kill you."

  Asta--a Chanden?

  This surprised Moorhen, that Asta was daughter to Koethe--the Commander of all the Chanden. A spy then, not a traitor. Still that wasn't much better, but it did put Koethe's desire to find her in a slightly different light. Not that it justified Koethe; he was a despicable man. But Moorhen could see the concern in his eyes for Asta.

  But that the godstone would bond with such a one ….

  "She's no longer your daughter," said Moorhen, feeling a little compassion for Koethe. He might as well know. "She's possessed by the spirit of the gods. She won't listen to you now."

  "Nonsense," said Koethe. "I'm not a savage. I don't believe in such things. You've got her and are using her as a hostage somehow. She would never help your cause willingly."

  "You sent her after the godstone," said Moorhen, "and that's the only thing holding her hostage, if anything. What she does, she does under the influence of the Ancients."

  Koethe glared at Moorhen, as though considering for a moment that he could be telling the truth. Then he shook his head, banishing the thought. "No. You Garrans have her--and you'll give her back or I swear to you I will destroy you."

  "I've told you what I know," said Moorhen. "We found the stone in the Valley of Fire, near the Northern Cones. Your men were there. You know where it is. Asta took it and it bonded with her. She's been different ever since. I don't know where she went! We found out she was a spy before you attacked. All of our group were either captured or killed. There are no others. Wherever Asta went, she went on her own. I swear it. What do you want from me?"

  Koethe didn't look convinced but Moorhen had nothing else he could say and he wasn't very good at lying. Perhaps that's what the man wanted to hear--a lie.

  Moorhen said no more, knowing that her father would be surprised when he saw her again.

  The Commander gave terse orders to the soldiers to prepare the ship for takeoff. Thirsty, Moorhen begged them for water but they ignored his pleas.

  The ship powered up and rose into the air. Moorhen never got used to flying and the sensation made him ill. It wasn't natural. It was an unholy way of transportation. The ship flew for less than an hour. Then an explosion rocked the plane; the Chanden panicked.

  Soldiers led Moorhen to the back of the plane and forced him to sit on a chair near the window. The view made Moorhen a little dizzy. Men weren't meant to fly. They were not birds.

  He sat, tense, watching the sand dunes roll past beneath them. For a time, perhaps he slept.

  A jolt woke Moorhen. The airship lurched.

  "I don't know, sir," Moorhen overheard one man say. Something felt wrong with the ship--it was falling.

  Panic hit Moorhen. He tried to stand and made it to his feet.

  "I can't stabilize it--we're going to hit!"

  Then there was a terrible force of impact. Moorhen was thrown to the ground. Everything went dark.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The desert. Gray, brown, beige.

  Memories of a firecave that led from the temple. How long had she walked? She'd lost time, a lot of it.

  Asta's mind whirled with thoughts, images and colors--moving too fast for even herself to fully understand.

  A battle still raged as she defended her own actions to herself. Why
had she let them kill Jaynanth? Why had she joined the Enforcers? Why did the Chanden fight the Garran natives? The questions were fierce and relentless. They threatened to drown Asta as the accusations mounted.

  The godstone would reject her and she would die, alone, in the wilderness.

  Red, silver, mauve.

  She fought off the pain until she wished for death. How many times could she regret her life and the things she'd done? Why didn't the stone just finish her off?

  Did the godstone have to forgive her--or did she have to forgive herself?

  Gray-green, yellow-orange, black.

  She lost time again. She'd passed through a Garran village. She now rode a yithhe. A cloak shielded her from the weather. She had no memory of where she'd gotten these things.

  Still, she was not forgiven.

  A storm had begun. The earth was angry. A war was coming--one that the earth would never allow. That's why it led Asta to the Sea of Glass across the endless, bleak desert.

  Whatever the gods planned for the Garrans--she felt it would not be exactly what they had expected. Nor what they wanted.

  A path cleared for her to pass safely through the sandstorm.

  She spurred her mount towards the northeast and trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Gradually Moorhen became aware that he was lying face first on the floor of the craft, which wasn't level. They had landed. Moorhen wasn't able to feel smug about his premonitions about flying. His bones ached too much.

  He remembered some sort of impact. Then frantic voices, saying that the plane couldn’t be stabilized. Then Moorhen had lost consciousness.

  Slowly, he managed to struggle up to a sitting position. Nearby were two guards lying on the floor of the ship. One had to be dead, by the position his head was in. The ship was silent--no engines and no voices anywhere. Had they all been killed?

  Not waiting to find out, Moorhen moved over to the nearest body and found a release key for the cuffs that held him. His hands were free at last. He rubbed them to try and ease the soreness. Then he stood and pocketed the man's laser gun. He nearly fell over. He made his way to a storage box that he'd seen them store water in, found some water and took a long drink. From the box, he grabbed a backpack. He stuffed it full of food and water, a knife, and a few other useful items.

  Moorhen checked the other guard. This one was also dead. He moved toward the front of the plane, with his laser drawn. In the cockpit he found the pilot, his face all cut up from glass from the broken window. Dead also. Koethe was nowhere in sight.

  The plane would not be a good place to be. Moorhen needed to get out as soon as possible. He jumped out of the plane door. A few more bodies lay on the ground. Moorhen checked them--Koethe's men, all dead.

  He got about 20 paces from the plane and saw another body further back. There were no prints leading to it so Moorhen suspected that the man had fallen out during the crash. It was Koethe--alive but unconscious.

  Moorhen swore.

  He'd hoped that Koethe had died along with all his men and that this would be the punishment of the gods on Koethe for his actions against the Garrans. Determined, Moorhen pulled out the knife and held it to Koethe's throat. He deserved it--he had wronged Moorhen and his people in many ways. Here he was now, defenseless, as though the gods had delivered Koethe into his hands to kill. Surely that is what the gods wished?

  Still Moorhen hesitated. Only a coward would kill an unconscious man. Koethe posed no threat to Moorhen now and, as angry as Moorhen felt over the death of his own clan, they had killed innocent Chanden families. Of course the Chanden would retaliate.

  Moreover, the Gods of Garran were stirred up--embodied in Asta. Koethe was still her father. If there was a chance of offending the gods, Moorhen had no intention of doing it.

  Finally, Moorhen put the knife away and searched Koethe, taking away his weapons. From the pack, Moorhen found a pair of cuffs and secured Koethe's hands behind his back. Then he checked him for injuries but found only scratches and bruises on his arms and legs from the fall.

  Moorhen stood and scanned the horizon. He knew where they were--just south of the Sea of Glass. It was a holy place. Clear and completely flat the Sea of Glass lay like a mirror on the desert floor. Long ago brimstone had come forth from a nearby hill and filled the valley floor with fire. When it cooled, it formed the Sea of Glass--a sea not made of water. No clan member dared go to this god-place. Here Asta would go, Moorhen was certain of it.

  Sudden movement behind Moorhen startled him. Koethe stirred groggily. The look of surprise and dismay on Koethe's face satisfied Moorhen.

  "You!" said Koethe. He tried to stand but fell back down. "My men?"

  "All dead," said Moorhen. Koethe glared at Moorhen in disgust. "Killed in the crash," Moorhen added, to clarify. He brandished his own weapon to let Koethe know he was armed. "I could have killed you--but I chose not to."

  Koethe considered this silently. "Now what?"

  "She will go north to the Sea of Glass. We'll follow."

  There was no objection from Koethe. Perhaps he still thought he could reason with Asta, but Moorhen doubted very much that he could. Asta was beyond them all.

  Moorhen could see that another sandstorm brewed in the distance; they happened frequently out near the Sea of Glass. At least it would keep Chanden airships from following them, he hoped. But the problem of being caught in a sandstorm was also dangerous for them.

  They trudged along and Koethe lagged, favoring his right leg. So he had been wounded. Moorhen failed to feel sympathy for him and kept up a quick pace. Later, they stopped to rest for a moment and Moorhen had a long drink of water.

  "I need water as well," said Koethe, irritated. It sounded like a demand coming from a superior to an inferior. The Chanden could see them as nothing else, even under such circumstances as these. Moorhen hardened his heart.

  "No," Moorhen said. He wouldn't let this man treat him like a servant. He deserved nothing. "I went without water in your care after a long walk in the desert." Moorhen put the flask away and kept walking. He felt some small satisfaction in getting that little bit of revenge. Koethe said nothing. Perhaps he knew he deserved worse at Moorhen's hands.

  "I meant no harm to your daughter," said Moorhen. "I considered her a friend until I learned she had lied to all of us. By then it was too late and the godstone had her."

  "What will you do, when you find her?" asked Koethe.

  "I'll find her and then I'll know," said Moorhen. He had no idea what he would do, but he needed her help now, desperately, to undo what her father had set into motion. Maybe he would reason with her--see if she really was god-touched. If not, maybe he would kill her and claim the godstone, taking it to the priests so that the gods it held could be freed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The pain had lessened. The guilt had lessened.

  Had the gods forgiven her?

  Red, gold, silver.

  Deep under the Sea of Glass lay the Sun Caves, made of glass and crystal woven in intricate patterns. When the sun shone through the Sea of Glass into the caves, they filled with a rainbow of light.

  Teal, green, brown.

  Long ago this had been the refuge of the gods. The Garrans never ventured here … until now.

  The attacks of doubt and recrimination came less often. If she hadn't been accepted, then at least the gods hadn't rejected her yet. They hadn't blotted her out.

  Still Asta struggled to remain conscious. Fought against the darkness. She hated loosing time. She wanted to know what was happening.

  She knew things she shouldn't. Ancient things. The path through the Sun Caves. Many of the Old Ways. Things Borrai.

  The winds were her eyes. They brought knowledge of things outside herself. Her father and the Garran boy approached the Sea of Glass. The Chanden weren't her only problem. The Garrans had forgotten the gods in the last hundred years.

  A council was needed.

  Her mind felt so sluggish. He
r body moved of its own accord, not at her command.

  In the center of the caves she found the hrisak, the meeting place of the gods. The light collected from above into a circle of glass which refracted it into thousand different shards of crystal throughout the Sun Caves. The caves were almost as bright as daylight.

  Asta stepped into the circle and touched the crystals in the center, bringing them to life. Fascinated, Asta forgot her pain for a moment. Forgot to struggle.

  The crystals sang in clear harmonic tones to the colors that Asta touched.

  Scarlet, blue, amber.

  Some thoughts began to align.

  Gold, mahogany, sand-bronze.

  The pain lessened.

  Slowly the gods of Garran awoke and Asta heard their voices. In her mind, they saw the state of their world of Garran.

  There was a solution.

  They would wake the priests--those who waited for but had never heard the voice of the gods. They could be warned. They must not go to battle but take cover from the coming sandstorm.

  Whether or not the clan chiefs would listen, Asta did not know. But those clans that were headstrong enough to defy their priests perhaps did not deserve to escape the wrath of the gods.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Through the desert sands they trudged towards the Sea of Glass. Moorhen had never been here--nor had any Garran that he knew of. The place was more feared than forbidden. But the Chanden were massing against his people and only the gods could save them now. Asta was the focus of the gods’ power. He would appeal to her--there was no other way.

  In front of Moorhen walked Koethe, not used to long desert walks. When he lagged, Moorhen gave him a harsh blow of encouragement. Moorhen burned to kill this man who had caused such great trouble to the Garrans and to himself. And though Moorhen was sure that the gods would side with him, he knew that this man was Asta's father. How much of Asta remained he wasn't certain, but for her anger's sake, he spared Koethe--as much as it rankled him.

  "What is that?" Koethe asked of the shimmering surface ahead.