The Gods of Garran (14 page)

The ravine was still. It was nearly dark.

Sindke and her clansmen secured their mounts.

"Watch the east," said Sindke to Rouvidinn. He nodded and beckoned two of the strangers to follow. Moorhen nodded to Draiha and Gudhel and they followed Rouvidinn.

They would help. It wouldn't be the end of his clansmen.

"The Red Sun Clan are not far," said Sindke. "Can he walk at all?"

"Not much," said Moorhen. "We've been walking almost two days without rest and little water."

"What happened?" asked Sindke.

Moorhen hesitated a moment. It was a shameful story. "Our clan is destroyed--the Sand Plain Clan. Our father, Ashtan, grew angry at the Chanden and, in league with the Upper Steppe and the Red Sun Clan he attacked Hobset--but the other clans betrayed us. Ashtan is dead and we are all that's left."

Sindke nodded. "This will not go well for any of us--this action was rash."

This Moorhen knew and he said nothing. His own silence an admission.

Just then Draiha called a warning and the Red Sun Clan was upon them. From the ravine, it was difficult to see all that happened.

Moorhen had picked up a Chanden laser from a fallen warrior in Hobset. Though he preferred his bow, the laser had a greater range. As the Red Sun Clan came over the ridge, Moorhen shot at them. But the weapon was odd in its aim and didn't balance the way he expected. He managed to wound one but now there was not time to switch to his bow. He stayed near Taglethe and Sindke to protect them, as did Crysethe. The battle did not go well but much better than it would have had the others not been with them.

Moorhen cursed as he saw Gudhel take a hit. He stuffed the gun in his satchel and drew his sword as three of the Sun Clan got over the ridge and came towards them. The one named Asta, a pale woman with delicate hair, raised an
ooluk
to take one on but another went after her as well.

Moorhen ran to her defense and fought the second clansman. Moorhen had done very little true fighting like this and was barely holding the man off when Asta finished her battle and came to his aid.

"Thank you," he said.

She scowled at him and continued on. She had a strange beauty to her; she looked the way he imagined one of the gods would look. He noticed her sword was a sacred relic with god-runes on it. That she dared to use it impressed him. Moreover, she was a half-garr, he was sure. She had a slightly foreign look.

Moorhen took on several of the Red Sun Clan, not at once. He managed to kill one and wound another. But he himself took a wound on his left arm.

Even the old woman fought with her long sword. And several of their fighters were seasoned warriors. So that even though the Red Sun Clan outnumbered them, they held their own.

Though the battle seemed long, it was soon over. The remaining Red Sun Clan gave up and withdrew, seeing that they had reinforcements.

Moorhen hurried up the slope to the others. Draiha was there, kneeling over Gudhel. She was crying and Moorhen saw that he was dead--as was Rollech. The loss of two more clan-brothers seemed unbearable after the losses they had already suffered. There were so few of them left. Moorhen truly feared for his clan. The newcomers--those of the Conclave had lost men also. Moorhen went down to find out how bad it was.

Moorhen went up to Sindke who, while she was old, still looked as though she could wield a dagger with some skill. "We lost one but two are wounded--one badly."

"I'm sorry," said Moorhen. He had bandaged his own wound. It wasn't bad.

"She was my clan-sister," said Jarvaine, sitting next to Kodinn. "I can't stop the bleeding. Sindke--can you help her?"

Sindke went over to the woman. The wounds looked very severe.

Jarvaine rose to let Sindke minister to the girl. He paced about letting his displeasure show. "This was not our battle," said Jarvaine, glaring at Moorhen. "We fight their battles for them--after they start a war with the Chanden?"

Moorhen didn't blame him for feeling this way. Ashtan's attack was foolish and would cost the Garrans much, he feared.

"May the sea take you!" said Jarvaine. An old curse. Moorhen could think of no reply.

"Jarvaine--be silent," said Sindke. "We can do nothing tonight but rest. Set up a double watch and we'll sleep in shifts."

"I won't sleep," he muttered as he went off to do her bidding.

Moorhen, Draiha, and Sindke saw to the wounded. Asta, the pale woman, sat apart from them and didn't help nor speak. He almost thought her in a trance, she kept so still. Sindke and the others made no demands on her and likewise Moorhen left her alone.

He wondered if she were so pale on account of some sickness or if it were because of her foreign blood. Odd though, that she should ride with the Conclave and carry a god-sword.

Then again, people also said that Moorhen looked pale. Doubts rose in him once again about his mother. He sought out Rheggi and sat by him. Rheggi was wounded, but not badly.

They sat a moment in silence. Moorhen wanted answers--yet didn't want them. "What my father said--about the Sand Plain Clan …." Moorhen was not sure how to ask it. "My Mother--he would never tell me …."

"She was not of the Sand Plain Clan," said Rheggi.

Ashtan had never said this. "What was she?"

Rheggi didn't look at Moorhen. "I never knew your mother, Moorhen, I'm sorry."

How could he not know Moorhen's mother--and he live his whole life in the clan? "She died in childbirth?"

"You should ask the mothers about this. They could tell you," Rheggi said. He got up and walked over to help with the wounded, even though his help wasn't needed. Moorhen mulled the answers over. Rheggi knew more than he let on. No one had said that his mother had died in childbirth, but they had hinted at it. No one had ever wanted to discuss this--especially not Ashtan.

Once everyone was settled and the wounds tended to, Sindke came over to Moorhen. "I've done what I can," she said. Then in a lower voice, "but I fear that the woman will not live out the night. I will stay with her."

Moorhen nodded.

The newcomers took the first several watches, allowing Moorhen and the others, who were thoroughly exhausted, to rest. Moorhen fell to sleep quickly but did not sleep very soundly, troubled by too many matters and the vague memory of strange dreams.

^
^
^
^ *

Moorhen took a watch near dawn and found that the woman, Kodinn, had died in the night--as Sindke had said she would. That left Taglethe and Rouvidinn that were badly wounded still. At least the Red Sun Clan had not attacked during the night.

The pale one, Asta, was awake and stood apart from them, restless. She looked worried. He wished he knew a way to comfort her.

"Sleep," he told her. "I'll watch."

"I cannot," she said, without further explanation.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Asta looked ill.

"I'm fine," she said but her cold tone told him that she wanted to be left alone--so he left her alone. She looked as though she had scarcely slept.

Soon dawn came and the others woke. Jarvaine's mood was dangerous. He said little, but his eyes were angry and Moorhen sensed that not all that anger was directed at the Sand Plain Clan.

"Where now?" demanded Jarvaine. "What is our course?"

Sindke looked over at Asta, who remained aloof. Then Sindke turned her gaze to Moorhen. "Moorhen--tell us--what is our course?"

He stared at her, having no idea why she would ask him.

"We were headed to the Dead Knolls, on a quest to find one of the ancient godstones," said the old woman. "We'd hoped to find instructions there at a
Shaheak
temple."

The god-tablet. Moorhen felt a rush of guilt. He was no
Shaheak
--yet he had entered the chamber. He'd told no one that he had taken the tablet.

"The chamber was destroyed," said Draiha coldly. "Moorhen ventured in--and brimstone overran it."

At this, Sindke looked a little startled--she stared hard at Moorhen.

Moorhen hesitated, loathe to make this confession. He pulled the god-tablet out of his pouch. All eyes turned to him--his own clan surprised. "I took it when the brimstone rose," said Moorhen, handing it to Sindke--embarrassed that he had not told his own clan and especially not even his own father. Draiha glared at him, angry.

Sindke took the tablet, with a glance at Jarvaine who now seemed pacified. "This stone will guide us," she said to Jarvaine. Then to Moorhen, "You've saved us a journey, Moorhen of the Sand Plains."

Moorhen nodded but still felt ashamed. He was surprised that she didn't reprimand him, though perhaps the gods would take their own vengeance on him in time. Sindke studied Asta a moment before she sat down to look at the tablet.

"It speaks of the god Traelak, one of the seven gods. He holds the next key," said Sindke. "There is a riddle here that even I do not understand. But Traelak is the god of the sea and the Kinsikk Sea lies far to the northwest. Perhaps it is there that we will find the godstone."

"And what of Rouvidinn and the others?" asked Jarvaine, referring to the wounded.

"We shall send them back to Koshke," she said. "Molot," she said. "You and your cousin shall take them back. We will stop and get animals for the others to ride and continue on to the east."

The others nodded. "I hope our journey bears fruit, after so many loses," said Jarvaine.

"That is my hope also," said Sindke.

They packed up the camp and began the long journey to Koshke. At least they had help now--water, protection and animals for Taglethe to ride. Taglethe would not be happy about being left behind in a strange clan--but the Clan Conclave held the highest honor on Garran.

They traveled for days towards the northwest. Asta knew that the Chanden had settlements out there but she had never seen them. No usable roads led there; one had to go by air. Or by animal. Even the Garrans didn't go there much. Few lived there. Many strange beasts inhabited that wild place--so many that no one had ever named them all.

Closer to the sea, the hills gave way to mountains. Trees replaced the spider-shrubs and the undergrowth grew tall and green. The ground became marshy. The storms came daily with a few breaks now and then. But the nearly constant rain brought forth rampant life in the form of animals, bugs and plants.

The Garrans never had been a boat-building culture and had superstitions about the dangers of traveling in the water. Small wonder--they had a superstition about everything. Perhaps some terrible sea monster lurked beneath Garran's seas.

When Sindke had spoken of Traelak, Asta recognized the name: Traelak, the god of the sea. He was a feared god because to the Garrans the sea was mysterious and full of death. Perhaps it was their version of hell--containing all the souls that had done wrong in their life.

As they traveled, Asta found it more and more difficult to make her reports to the Agency without being detected. Sindke missed nothing and always had Asta in sight, fussing over her. Somehow Sindke believed that Asta had some power. The coincidence of finding the desert boy, Moorhen, with the map had convinced her. At least the map would lead them to these "godstones." Or one of them, at least.

One morning as they journeyed, Asta got time alone to make a more lengthy report and mentioned the godstones. The Agency was very anxious to have them--at all costs, saying that they must
not
fall into Garran hands.

Fighting had broken out. Moorhen's clan had started it, and now the Chanden retaliated by attacking some Garrans. She hoped this news wouldn't reach their group--the count of dead was mounting on both the Chanden and Garran sides. A war was brewing. If it came to that, martial law would force them to round up all the Garrans--none of them could be trusted once they got riled up.

A similar confrontation had come about twenty years ago. The Garrans got upset at the Chanden. Instead of discussing things--they went out and killed Chanden citizens and sabotaged a factory in Karther. Shooting began at the factory. Twenty-five Garrans were killed. After that, the natives went crazy. They fought back at the Chanden in every city--attacking without adequate weapons. Throwing themselves at the Chanden until the streets ran with their blood. They killed a lot of Chanden, too, in wild random attacks on isolated towns--Asta's mother, Nona, among them.

Asta hoped it didn't come to that. Alone with these Garrans … hundreds of miles from civilization--they'd kill her, if they found out who she was. Jarvaine would for sure. He nourished a deep hatred in his heart for all Chanden. He always kept a close eye on Asta, as though he didn't trust her.

Moorhen, on the other hand, was innocent. It seemed impossible to anger him. Any contempt she felt for the Garrans washed over him like water. His large dark eyes were empty of the bitterness that so many Garrans harbored towards everything--their life, their plight, and their dead gods.

The boy was not as strong as the others, not a warrior, but the others respected him and followed him. Chief-right, she figured. It must be. Perhaps at the death of his father, Moorhen had become their leader. There was something reasonable about him--uncomfortably reasonable. She found very few Garran men attractive but something about Moorhen appealed to her. This alone annoyed her.

All the things that she hated about the Garrans seemed absent in Moorhen. While the others spoke of the gods and the superstitions about them, he remained silent.

The storms grew worse, making it hard to repack the animals to get back on the road--if it could be called a road. Sometimes Asta couldn't even see where the "road" was.

"I'll help you," Moorhen said, with a hint of a smile. He took her bags and put them on her
yithhe
. His smile was annoying, as she wasn't sure what it meant. Did it mean he found her interesting and wanted access to her tent? Or was he just trying to be civil--if a Garran were capable of it?

"Thank you," she said, not sure how to respond. She didn't mind having him around--not the way she'd minded Molot. Molot never stopped talking, but Moorhen was quiet and more pensive.

"Where are you from?" asked Moorhen.

"Jarvaine already questioned me on this--you have to ask me too?" she said coldly. She hadn't meant to be so terse with him, but questions about her past made her uncomfortable. Best to deflect them. Or did she just want to deflect all men?

"I'm sorry," he muttered and walked off. Almost she was sad to see him go. The trip had been lonely. She'd never been this far from home before. So many things were strange to her. She could go over to him and apologize but what would be the point?

Then again, Ruben would say seduce the Garran and then she'd have an ally on a dangerous mission such as this. Really, there might not be much seduction involved. Moorhen already seemed quite interested in her. She just had to learn to relax.

They mounted and started out. They'd left the desert behind them and come out into some kind of bog. Solid ground gave way to an endless mass of mud and goo, surrounded by squat green plants and slippery marsh grass. There was a continual foul smell that Asta couldn't identify and didn't really want to. A constant mist hung on the rainy air.

Worst of all were the bugs. Asta wished she had bug repellant but it was strictly a Chanden invention, and she hadn't brought anything that would link her to the Chanden. It could be worth her life--though almost anything would be worth getting rid the blood-sucking beasts.

Moorhen rode up alongside her, amused at her antics, as she fought off the bugs. He laughed out loud at her and she gave him the deadliest glare she was capable of. He sobered up a little and rode off. His sincerity disarmed her.

Asta let her
yithhe
lag behind a little. The others were up front and somehow she'd found herself in the rear. Convenient--for reporting to the Agency. She got out her transmitter and typed in a message--the "all is well" code. Then she sent that one of the godstones was probably on the Kinsikk Sea and that the group was headed there.

Ruben sent a message back that they would be close at hand, in case the Garrans did find the stone. The Agency wanted to get it before the Garrans had time to claim any "miracles" or cause any hysteria. Hopefully quietly.

As she rode this began to weigh on her mind. This assignment was riskier than anything she'd done before. A secret mission. Her training for the last year had been much simpler: traveling through market places listening for rumors, or eavesdropping on Garrans talking in taverns.

If secrecy were so important--would it do to leave survivors to tell the tale? Or would the Agency kill these Garrans? It wasn't a question she had asked. The stakes had never been this high before. The thought made her stomach squirm.

She knew Ruben very well. He was ruthless. He liked things wrapped up neatly--and he'd killed before for less.

None of these people had done anything wrong. Sindke was kind, even if she was a little wacky. The Garrans respected Sindke. Killing her could have repercussions. And Moorhen--he'd done nothing wrong, only to be in the wrong place at this time. He didn't deserve to die.

Then Asta chided herself. She was letting her imagination work overtime. She didn't know for sure that the Chanden would do such a thing. It wasn't legal--not that that had stopped them from doing things before in an "unconventional fashion." Not Ruben, at least.

Determined to put it out of her mind, Asta spurred her
yithhe
forward into a muddy section of the trail--but immediately she and her beast sank into a mud-pit. As the
yithhe
struggled to get out Asta fell off. She managed to scream before she hit the mud. Flailing her arms around, she tried to get hold of the
yithhe's
harness but failed. Then the
yithhe
made it out of the bog and stood there, looking down at her.

She slipped under, dragged down by her movement. She panicked. Asta wasn't a swimmer and the others were ahead--out of sight. Frantically she tried to break up to the surface again. But the mud was thick and slimy. She soon had no idea which way was up. She stopped moving. She opened her eyes and the mud stung her. She convulsed, blinded and terrified.

Starved for air, she picked a direction and tried to swim, searching frantically for the surface, but to no avail. A wave of dizziness passed over her. She'd pass out, then it would be over. She would die here. The thought stunned her and she stopped struggling. Dizziness came over her again.

The earth had caught her. Funny, in a way. She had arranged to betray the Garrans and their gods. Now the gods had their revenge--they had reached up and grabbed her and pulled her into the earth to deal out retribution. This fearful thought was overwhelming. She could not dispel the image of an angry god from her mind--watching her, as she drowned. Mocking her.

You betray us; we will betray you.

You kill us, we will kill you.

Asta opened her mouth to scream and darkness overcame her.

They knew. The gods knew what she was planning.

^
^
^
^ *

When Asta regained her senses, her ragged breath let her know she was free of the mud pit. She opened her eyes and saw Moorhen bending over her. He must have pulled her out. She coughed terribly. He brought her a drink of water. He was filthy from head to foot as was she. He had wiped off her face and hands, somewhat.

Moorhen grinned at her. "Feeling better?" She couldn't tell if he was being friendly or emphasizing her carelessness with that smug grin. She felt angry at him even though she should have been grateful.

"Yes," she said more coldly than she meant to. She struggled to get up off the ground but her clothes were wet and sticky; she stumbled and fell again, destroying any dignity she had left.

Moorhen was at her side immediately. "Careful," he said. "You're lucky to be alive." He wasn't grinning now but his eyes were still laughing at her. Was she angry at him because, under it all, she found him handsome? Or because she owed him her life, thereby making it harder to sacrifice his?

Asta managed to stand without taking the hand he offered. "I'll be fine," she said. She felt a lot less steady than she tried to portray. Her head still felt quite woozy. She and Moorhen both cleaned up as best they could. No wonder Garrans were always so filthy. She mounted her
yithhe
and set out after the others; Moorhen followed, taking the rear.

Almost she laughed at her delirium while drowning … imagining the voice of the gods.

That night when they stopped for camp, Asta took some clean clothes from her pack. "I'm going to wash up," she said. "I'll be back." She slipped off through the bushes which were almost the size of trees. They had strange, rubbery like branches and the undergrowth was thick. Small pools of water were as abundant in this marsh, as were the bugs. But she'd decided to risk the bugs for a bath.

She found a pool easily enough and had begun to undress when Moorhen caught up with her. "Be careful of mud-pits," he said good-naturedly, and she assumed this was his idea of humor. He began undressing as well. "I need a bath too, after this morning."

"What--?" she stared at him in shock and then remembered that the Garrans had no social embarrassment about nudity. He stopped undressing and gave her an odd stare. Only a Chanden woman would object to this, she thought quickly. "What makes you think I can't take care of myself?" she asked. Reluctantly, she continued to undress. To display embarrassment would give herself away.

Moorhen gave her that annoying smile, as if thinking back on this morning, but said nothing. She was really starting to hate this one. Did he just want to see her naked or was he really concerned for her safety? Quickly she finished undressing and slipped into the water, glad at last of a little modesty.

He, on the other hand, continued undressing casually and Asta found it very distracting. She hadn't thought him particularly strong but all the Garrans were well-built and even those who weren't warriors were as athletic as the best Chanden. Moorhen's body certainly wasn't difficult to look at. She focused carefully on scrubbing her own body.

Soon Moorhen jumped in the water, causing waves. He smiled at Asta as he washed. She knew that in Garran customs a bath with the opposite sex meant nothing. She hoped that that were true. Once clean, Asta got out and quickly dried off and dressed in her clean clothes. Then she began washing out her dirty clothes, and her belt pouch.

Moorhen continued swimming in the pool and watching her. She turned her attention to her own tasks. As she opened her pouch to clean out the mud, she stopped. The comset was missing. She panicked. It must have fallen out in the mud-pit, miles back. Without it, she couldn't make her daily signal and let them know she was all right.

They'd assume she was in danger if she didn't make contact and send in agents after her. She still had the internal locator device tracking her. She wasn't sure that they'd find the godstone here or if they were following another "clue." The operation could be spoiled.