The Gods of Garran (13 page)

The Sand Plain Clan, what was left of them, traveled till dawn. They moved more slowly than Moorhen had hoped, but at least no one pursued them. Moorhen feared the other clans more than he feared the Chanden right now.

Towards dawn, Moorhen had the others start searching for firecaves--it would be much safer. The Chanden wouldn't be able to detect them using their flying ships.

They kept low along the hills, searching the rocks and crags for an opening. At last they found one--a cave of suitable size. They went in as deep as they dared--hoping it wasn't active.

Draiha insisted on first watch, letting Moorhen have a much needed rest. Exhausted, Moorhen lay down and removed his pouch. Only then did he remember the god-tablet. He had forgotten it--all this time.

Without the others seeing, Moorhen pulled it out, studying it by the dim torch light. The square tablet, slightly larger than his hand, was made of iridescent moonstone. Many ancient runes were carved on the front--a map of some sort. Moorhen put it back in his pouch--glad that he hadn't lost it. He had also kept his father's talisman and the other personal belongings. They must be taken back to the clan. A new chief would be appointed, as Ashtan's chosen successors were now all dead.

Moorhen slept restlessly, waking from time to time. The rock floor was hard and felt cold, despite the heat wells. Odd sounds in the distance disturbed Moorhen. As night approached he took his watch. What path should they take now? He had led them to the southwest. This path was unknown to all of them, but Moorhen hoped that the other clans would not expect this of them, and find them.

He wasn't as familiar with the northern lands, having never traveled up this way, but he knew that to the west lay the Stony Dunes and to the southwest would be the Desert of Desolation.

But now Moorhen's group needed to turn east and south in order to get back to their own firecave, but the way was currently blocked by a tall butte. They'd left their
tsirvak
poorly defended. Most of the warriors had come on the raid to Hobset. Now only 19 warriors remained at home to defend 230 women and children. And two rival clans now knew that they were weakened.

Moorhen could go east, but the Upper Steppe and Red Sun clans lay in that direction. He decided to continue to the southwest, through the Stony Dunes.

Moorhen woke the others and they began the long journey toward home. They tried to navigate their way in the dark. The Stony Dunes were due west. He could see the endless expanse of rolling hills. They looked like sand dunes, but were made of stone. Sandstone. Water would be scarce there.

They navigated further south to avoid entering the Stony Dunes, traversing the edge of it.

The going was slow and hours passed. Deep ravines and sharp rocks blocked their path and caused them to double back more than once, losing valuable time. Their wounded brother didn't fare very well.

Very little lived up here. The only game Moorhen saw were sand-rabbits and dune-lizards.

"He can't keep this up," said Draiha.

"If we stop--they'll catch us," said Moorhen.

"At this rate, they'll catch us anyway," said Gudhel.

Moorhen nodded. They were right. There had to be another way. The light of dawn showed on the horizon. The wind had died down but now Moorhen wished it would blow again to cover their tracks."

"What about
yithhe
?" asked Moorhen. "Maybe there are some herds here? Maybe we can catch one."

"Not this high up," said Gudhel. "What would they eat?"

"What about
kretche
?" asked Draiha. The beasts were slow moving and easy to catch, easy to control--but large and cumbersome. Still, it would be faster than they were traveling. "There may be some up this far."

"Rollech," said Moorhen. "You and Gudhel see if you can round some up."

"And me," said Crysethe.

"No," said Moorhen.

"I'm not a child!" she said.

"That has yet to be proven," he said. "You two go; we'll search for shelter."

They nodded and left without objection. Moorhen still wasn't sure why they were listening to him. Draiha stayed with Taglethe while Moorhen went scouting for some kind of shelter. Crysethe followed him.

"No," he said.

"You don't have enough warriors to turn away help," said Crysethe.

Moorhen's objections died. She was right. There were too few of them left. He needed her help. Together they found a spot to hide. Moorhen went back for Draiha and Taglethe while Crysethe stayed at their new found shelter, a very shallow firecave.

Hours passed, once they were situated. Moorhen paced just outside the cave, hoping that the others would return soon but there was no sign of them. They could have been captured or killed. Some wild beast could have gotten them. Moorhen was about to go after them when they arrived.

"Well?" asked Moorhen.

"No luck," said Gudhel. "And it's worse--the Sun Clan are searching the hills east of here. If we go that way, they'll find us. They'll be here by tomorrow."

This was bad news. Moorhen had hoped that somehow he'd been wrong and that the other clans were innocent of ill-intent. Perhaps they only sought Moorhen's group to help them--but Moorhen doubted that. Doubted it very much.

Everyone looked at Moorhen, waiting for direction. He didn't know what to say. If they stayed here, they would be found. Every one of them was tired and in need of rest. But Moorhen had no desire to find out the what the Red Sun Clan wanted with them.

"We'll keep traveling then; we'll go southwest," said Moorhen. "We'll continue through the day if we have to. I don't think the Chanden will look for us there."

"Through the Stony Dunes and into the Desert of Desolation? In this heat?" asked Gudhel.

"We can't stay here."

"What about Taglethe?" asked Draiha, not pleased.

"We'll carry him," said Moorhen. "In shifts."

The others didn't look pleased but they gathered their things and followed Moorhen. It would be a very long journey. He felt guilty asking them to keep walking in the state they were in. But what else could he do? There was no other solution. Moorhen just hoped he wasn't leading them to their deaths.

"What will my job be?" asked Crysethe, as they climbed out of the firecave into the heat of the day.

"You'll be the scout. Watch all directions, ahead and behind, for enemies."

She grinned and disappeared quickly. Moorhen hoped he hadn't been foolish in giving her such a task.

Rock gave way to the endless sandstone dunes. These twisted stone dunes had distinct layers that ranged from almost white to a deep red and every shade in between. These layers continued unbroken for miles in each direction, despite sharp hills and small valleys. Occasionally a small peak would in interrupt the dunes, causing a very uneven but startlingly beautiful landscape.

Here the journey was difficult. Now there was little cover, some shrubs, an occasional ridge. The further west they went, the less cover there was. At least the wind began to blow again, but they no longer needed it to hide their track. Nothing could track them on this solid rock.

^
^
^
^ *

By evening they arrived at the sandy edge of the Desert of Desolation. Already the day cooled somewhat, to everyone's relief. The Stony Dunes had held the heat of the day, making it a hot journey. Every muscle in Moorhen's body called out for rest. But night was the best time to travel and they couldn't afford to rest for long.

"We'll rest here for an hour," said Moorhen grimly. "I'll stand watch."

"No," said Draiha. It was the first time anyone had challenged him. But they had to continue. They had no choice.

"I'll watch; you rest." Draiha looked determined. Her wounds were few and she looked well enough.

Moorhen nodded, grateful. "Thanks." With that, they all lay down and slept for a brief hour. It was not enough by far. When Moorhen awoke, Crysethe had not returned to camp and he began to worry. But by definition a scout would stay ahead of the group.

"How is he?" Moorhen asked about Taglethe.

"He has a fever," said Draiha, in a low voice. Moorhen nodded. His condition was worsening. But they couldn't stop, not here. They got up and continued on. No one objected. They knew they had no choice.

Sundown brought some relief from the heat. And traveling in the Desert of Desolation was easier than it had been in the Stony Dunes.

So they carried Taglethe through the night. Crysethe returned with two sand-lizards, which they stopped and cooked. Food supplies were low and the meal was a welcome, if brief, break.

After that, they made good time. But hours later, their pace slowed. They were all very tired. Crysethe showed up and reported all clear then disappeared again. Moorhen was too tired to stop her, even though he felt inclined to. He considered stopping for another rest but the flat desert held no cover. They needed a cave, but such things were less common here. Moorhen had seen nothing that would work.

There were ravines that cut into the desert floor and Moorhen tried to travel in the ravines so that they could at least keep out of sight.

Towards late afternoon, they rested at the bottom of a deep ravine, all too tired to go further. Moorhen fought to stay awake and keep watch, but he kept nodding off.

^
^
^
^ *

Crysethe woke Moorhen. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept. He cursed himself and got up. "They're coming," she said. "From the southeast."

Moorhen woke the others. "How many?" he asked her.

"Fifteen or twenty."

"Red Sun Clan?"

"Yes," she said.

"Good work," he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks."

She smiled.

"What'll we do?" asked Gudhel. Moorhen scrambled up the side of the ravine to get a look. Gudhel came after him. They stopped at the top and looked around, trying to get a glance at their enemies. Crysethe came up behind them and pointed.

"There," she said.

He saw them--about three miles away. And they were mounted on
yithhe
. There was nowhere to go. The Red Sun would track them here. The sand didn't hide their tracks as the Stony Dunes did. Moorhen was sure that their tracks could be followed.

Moorhen ran back down the slope to join the others. "Stick to this ravine," said Moorhen. "We'll follow it as far as we can--and hope they lose our trail."

Draiha had Taglethe up and ready to go. She and Gudhel carried him at nearly a run--deeper into the Desert of Desolation. It was crazy. Moorhen had only skirted the edge of Desolation. He'd meant to turn east once they'd gotten far enough south. But the Desert of Desolation was a cursed place--not one he wanted to cross. And they were almost out of water. The desert had a reputation for confusing travelers. Many got lost, wandering endlessly until they died of thirst. But facing the Red Sun Clan was a less desirable alternative.

They walked for nearly an hour. It surprised Moorhen that they weren't overtaken by then. He'd begun to hope that their pursuers had turned back or lost their trail, but then a sandstorm hit. A terrible wind nearly blinded them with sand, making it impossible to continue on. They crawled to a ledge in the ravine and found shelter, for the moment. It wasn't much but got them in out of the worst of the storm.

Moorhen took heart in that this would surely cover their tracks. There was nothing else to do, so they slept.

Sindke led the group away from Koshke, heading northeast towards Drealea. To the west and south lay the Desert of Desolation and none of them wanted to enter that wasteland.

Asta rode ahead to Sindke. "Where will we go?" Asta asked.

"I don't know," answered Sindke. "Where are the godstones?"

Surely the woman didn't think Asta knew. Asta shook her head. "I don't know."

"Is it in the Hands of the Gods?" asked Sindke, meaning the mountain Asta had been to.

"No," Asta said, without stopping to think. She didn't know why she was so sure. Sindke smiled.

"We'll head for Hobset. Skirt the northern side of the Stony Dunes and avoid Rhashan. Once we get to Sonthhe, the Dead
Knolls are to the south and the road there is less difficult."

Asta nodded. She'd never been this far out. All she knew of this land were the maps she'd memorized. Though being here in person was a different thing all together. It was hard to match up the map in her mind with what she saw in the desert. At best, she recognized only a few major landmarks on the horizon. And distances were hard to gauge.

As they traveled, Asta saw the
tacha
skulking about behind shrubs and rocks as they passed by. The small humanoids ran away in fear.

That evening they stopped for camp as it got dark. Molot's two cousins and Rouvidinn set up the camp. Molot began cooking. He was fond of food and had appointed himself as cook, for which Asta was glad. She liked Molot's cooking. Asta gathered that his skills as a fighter were not as great as his skill for talking.

Jarvaine, though a fighter, seemed richer than some of the others, like Molot. Instead of coarse, ragged cloth that many Garrans wore, he wore a leather vest and pants, some of it imprinted with the iconic head of a
sechule
, poised to pounce. A pattern of purple and red trim decorated the leather's edges. Jarvaine must have more status in his clan, as he didn't offer to do any of the work. Instead he came over and spoke with Asta.

"How did you like Noloon?" he asked. "How did you find the weather there?"

"I have not been to Noloon in many years," countered Asta, "I have not thought of it much." Her heart beat quicker. He was testing her. This is what Asta had feared--someone who could prove her story false.

"I've heard that Chief Foknach has fallen ill. That's unfortunate."

Asta had no idea who was chief in Noloon as she had never been there before--and never really wanted to go. "My mother moved from there when I was young. I have no news of them."

Jarvaine studied her carefully. She hoped he wouldn't notice how Chanden some of her features were.

"Odd that you never go there. Surely you have family there?" asked Jarvaine. He was baiting her.

"None. They've all moved away. Don't tell me you find that odd?" she said. Noloon was very small and remote. It was no great place to be--she knew that much. Jarvaine grinned at this. Asta left him. Molot, pleased when she turned up at the firepit, quickly launched into a long and complicated story about his brother's uncle's lost
eke
herd.

After dinner, Asta settled down to sleep. Jarvaine had stopped questioning her but she felt that he was not yet satisfied with her answers. She would have to be careful with him.

They were now northeast of the Eye of Innurlan. They had entered the Desert of Desolation in order to skirt the city of Drealea. Many Garrans lived there, but it was a Chanden outpost and the group was determined to avoid them, even if it meant entering Desolation. Sleep came slowly to Asta, as she had many things on her mind.

Asta knew that the Chandens hadn't been completely fair to the Garrans. There were laws to protect their culture and preserve their resources, fairly compensating them and so on. But Garran was remote and the world was not rich in any kind of resources. The population was small. It was not a world that many were concerned about. Therefore some reports failed to get filed and some abuses went on without reprimand. Then, there were Enforcers like Ruben, who bent the rules.

So the government on Garran continued with policies that favored the Chandens, fulfilled many requirements on a marginal level, and basically took quite a lot from the Garrans all while paying them a meager wage for their resources and for their labor.

After all, the Chanden had civilized them--brought them technology--and that was valuable. Asta had always believed that it evened out somehow. Now she wasn't so sure. She'd thought them to be savages but the more she got to know them, the more she realized that they were just poor, not necessarily savage. They had their own government and their own ways, which were not given the recognition that they perhaps deserved.

Asta had become an Enforcer because the pay was unusually good. These backward planets paid Chanden quite high in order to keep them from leaving for more civilized places. If Asta had wanted--she could have made some good money in illegal trade and bartering of seized goods, but that wasn't something she felt right about.

Slowly, Asta fell asleep but in her dreams she saw an old Garran city and heard the strange song again. She followed a strange man through the desert. He carried something important in a satchel across his shoulders, but she didn't know what. He stumbled through the desert sands. Determined to find out what he had, she followed him.

If only she could catch up to him, then perhaps the dream would become clear. She would gain an answer to the problem that plagued them.

All the while, the desert stretched endlessly in front of them.

The meaning of this mystery was on the tip of her mind. She went deeper into the dream--trudging after the man ….

^
^
^
^ *

As she woke, Asta felt strangely chill as the wind blew across her shoulders. She had picked a spot out of the wind and wondered why the wind was blowing so hard that it could reach her. She woke in a sandstorm, for a moment disoriented. The others were nowhere to be seen, nor could she see her pack or the animals or the rock ledge she had slept under.

Asta stood up. She was wearing her cloak with her
ooluk
girded about her waist--but she had no memory of putting it there. It seemed to be full daylight, but sand and clouds blotted out the sun. Somehow, Asta had wandered away from the camp. This wasn't where she'd lain down. She called out to the others but got no response. The whole area was sandy, unlike the rocky place they had camped.

She panicked and began to run, in the direction she thought would take her back but after five minutes she stopped. There was no change in the terrain--only sand. Was she going the wrong way? She called out again and again--but there was no answer.

The sand swirled around her and she could scarcely see ten feet in front of her. She retraced her steps--at least she thought she did--and tried walking the opposite way, but again there was nothing but sand.

She stopped. Asta would have to wait until the storm was over. There was no traveling in this. Surely the others would find her soon and probably think her silly. She looked around and found a small thicket of shrubs and climbed inside. They helped block the sand and wind a little. She found herself overwhelmingly tired and fell asleep. But this time she didn't dream.

^
^
^
^ *

When Asta awoke again it was evening. She couldn't believe that she'd slept so long and that the others hadn't woken her. But the storm had mostly passed and see could see the terrain again. For miles, there was nothing but sand. The terrain had completely changed. Asta was miles from where they had camped.

She must have walked all night to get here! The dream of crossing the desert had been real! She had walked in her sleep--something she'd never done before. Then again, is that how she got from the middle of the mountain back to the front chamber, at the Mountain of the Hands of the Gods?

This was too much. Asta walked to the edge of a ravine. She untied the
ooluk
and scabbard from her belt and threw it into the ravine. She would not allow this to happen to her. The sword wasn't worth … whatever haunted her.

Asta walked back to her shelter. She had no idea what direction to go, so she decided to wait here, hoping that Sindke and the others would find her. She laid out her cloak on the ground and rested again.

^
^
^
^ *

A sound woke Asta. Hours had passed.

She was no longer laying in the thicket of shrubs but on a ridge half a mile away. Her cloak rested on her shoulder and the
ooluk
lay by her side, as though it had never left. She must have sleepwalked into the ravine to get it.

She cursed.

Someone was approaching.

As Asta scanned the horizon, she saw two riders on
yithhe
. Quickly she found cover and waited as they approached. It was Molot and Sindke--searching for her, no doubt. Asta came out from the bushes and waved at them. They spurred their
yithhe
over to where she was.

"Asta!" said Molot. "What are you doing?" He seemed genuinely distressed.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I woke up this morning--out here."

They stared at her.

"I must have walked in my sleep. I don't understand it myself."

Sindke looked around at the vast empty desert and at the mountains to the east. "Find the others," she told Molot. He nodded and took off, with a worried glance at Asta.

Sindke dismounted and came over to her, noticing that Asta carried her sword and nothing else. She seemed quite calm about the incident. "You are all right?"

"Yes," said Asta.

"Where were you going?"

"I don't know," said Asta. "I had a dream that I was walking through the desert--looking for a man but I don't know why. It makes no sense."

Sindke nodded. They waited in silence until Molot brought the others, along with Asta's
yithhe
, back to where they were.

"It's not yet dark," said Sindke, "we will continue on for an hour and see if we can find shelter." She set her
yithhe
towards the southeast and began moving out. Hesitantly, the others followed.

"But Sindke," said Molot. "Why are you going southeast?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but I'd like to find out." She continued on the same course that Asta had walked the night before.

As the sun began to set, Rouvidinn, who was scouting ahead, returned. "There are riders ahead--coming across the Desert of Desolation."

"Who are they?" asked Sindke.

"The Red Sun Clan," he said.

She nodded and continued towards them. She found a ravine and rode down it with the others following behind her. They rode out of sight, their movements hidden by the ravine. Then it widened and turned a corner. There in front of them stood a small, ragged group of hunters with swords held ready for a fight.

There were five that Asta could see. One looked wounded. Sindke stopped and the others stopped too, looking over the haggard people. They were not Red Sun Clan and Asta didn't recognize them. She thought they would attack but they only stood ready. They looked as though they had already lost a battle.

Sindke dismounted. "What are you doing here?" she asked. The others stared at her without answering. "You are pursued by the Red Sun Clan?" she asked.

From the side of the ravine, a man emerged from a rock. He was younger than some of the others. He came down towards them and stopped once he was on level ground.

Surprised, Asta recognized him from her dream.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Sindke looked over at Asta, as if asking if this man was the one. Asta gave a little nod.

"I am Sindke--leader of the Clan Conclave."

"Why are you here?" he demanded, trying to sound brave, even though his voice wavered. He looked exhausted.

"We are looking for you--so it would seem," she said, cryptically.