The Gods of Garran

by Meredith Skye

  “The clan was gone already,” said Mirrhia, still studying the scene.

  Everyone looked at her.

  She indicated the floor and walls. “There’s no blood. No sign of a scuffle. And all the gear is gone,” she said, pointing to the closet.

  Moorhen stared around at the room. “There are no bodies.” He felt a surge of hope.

  “Exactly,” said Mirrhia.

  “Gone where?” asked Derish.

  There was silence.

  They all looked at each other. Where would they go? “Gythane Peak,” said Moorhen slowly. There was a secondary cave up there, frequently used by the Sand Plain Clan. It was higher up and difficult to find--about half a day’s ride from the tsirvak. They kept supplies there in case of emergency.

  Mirrhia met his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go!”

  Derish and the others followed as they rushed back outside to their yithhe.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  In the end, Chief Nyan had ordered an evacuation of even the village of Drealea, which was also swallowed up by the desert storm. All units were ordered back to Urrlan.

  Koethe and Nyan had arrived hours ago with all the troops they'd managed to save. Every hour, more troops straggled in.

  Some of Koethe's militia had broken and run when the storm hit, knowing that Koethe hadn't approved the attack. Now, they straggled back to Urrlan in small groups. Some on foot, some in airships.

  Terrible damage had been reported by both Chanden and Garran villages alike, due to the storm.

  The orders to stop the attack on the clan homes had not all been received. Some of the auxiliary units had attempted to carry out the orders with mixed results. A few clan homes had been hit hard. Others had defended themselves, causing great casualties on both sides.

  All of Garran was a mess.

  In all of this, there had been no word from General Godwin nor his officers. Nyan had waited patiently, and had sent out troops to search, once the storm began to die down.

  Koethe's officers: Becnand, Richt and Fauke had been released and were assisting in the recovery operations. Captain Fauke stayed close to Koethe, partly to guard him, as well as to assist him. Nothing more had been said of their arrest. Apparently, that was on hold.

  Quietly, Koethe ordered all Chanden evacuated from Rhashan, Chiel, Anik, Hobset and Sonthhe--all of the northeastern Chanden colonies. It had been Asta's request. He used the hostilities as an excuse. And in truth those outposts were too far out to protect. It was perfectly reasonable. The Outlands were full of the wildest of Garrans and not safe in these explosive times.

  "Commander," said Fauke. "A ship just arrived from Drealea. Chief Montani has been recovered."

  Koethe felt a dread. She had been given charge of his militia. And she wouldn't be one to let this go. Chief Nyan had heard that and walked over. "Very well," Koethe replied. Nyan and Koethe exchanged a glance. Both of them hurried down to the landing pad to greet her.

  Chief Montani looked ragged and exhausted. Anger flashed across her face when she saw Commander Koethe not in chains. "What is he doing here?" she demanded.

  Nyan ignored the question. "What about General Godwin?" he asked her.

  She shook her head. "I saw his ship go down. He's dead."

  Nyan greeted this news solemnly. "I see." He glanced at Koethe. The General's death left a vacuum in the hierarchy of power. Chief Nyan was next in command.

  "Shouldn't he be under arrest?" Montani demanded, nodding to Koethe.

  Godwin had ordered Koethe's arrest, but circumstances had been different then. Hesitating, Nyan looked at both Montani and Koethe. A decision had to be made. "No," said Nyan at last. "I think not."

  A feeling of relief flooded over Koethe.

  "What?" demanded Montani. "The General gave the order, we all heard it! I won't sit still for this!"

  "This is a Tier One order," countered Nyan. "You know this. It has to be put into writing. There are forms to be filled out."

  Bless Nyan's pedantic nature!

  "You're going to let him go because the paper work was never done? Are you crazy?" demanded Montani. "I will take this to the High Court on Vhorlend! He was the cousin of the Emperor. I will take this to the Emperor himself!"

  "You are welcome to do so," said Nyan. "I will await word from the High Court. Meanwhile, as far as I'm concerned, it's status quo."

  Montani and Nyan stared at each other a moment. Finally, she stormed off without a word.

  "Thank you," said Koethe to Nyan.

  "You're welcome," said Nyan. "I think as to matters on Garran, you know best. I'm content to leave you in charge."

  Koethe nodded, slowly feeling the balance of order restored.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The ride to Gythane Peak was long and already Moorhen and the other Garrans were tired from riding through the night. Their pace slowed as the trail grew steep.

  Mirrhia and Derish had to lead, as the way was difficult to find and the trail was ever shifting with the sands. Any tracks of the clan or their pursuers had been wiped out by the sandstorm. Moorhen had only been to that firecave a few times, during hunting trips.

  The sun shone hotly on the desert rocks. They stopped frequently to drink water. Even the yithhe, usually very hardy creatures, were getting tired.

  Towards the end, the trail grew quite steep. They had to dismount and walk beside their animals. Finally, the trail became a little easier and leveled out. Soon, they arrived at the cave entrance where a gnarled old lady sat on a stone. She looked up at them. It was Grandma Tehnna.

  “Made it home at last, I see?” said the old woman.

  “Is everyone here? Are they all right?” Moorhen asked, concerned.

  She nodded. “Most of them. We lost two in the attack. Killed by the Red Sun Clan.”

  “The Red Sun Clan?” asked Mirrhia. “They attacked?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Ehrlinnt was wounded as well.”

  No wonder the Red Sun Clan had been eager to accept them, before Hobset. They had planned this treachery. “How long ago?” demanded Moorhen.

  “Over a week,” said Tehnna.

  So, they’d already escaped to the cave when the Chanden attacked. Moorhen felt relief. He entered the firecave with Crysethe, Mirrhia and the others close behind him.

  “You’re alive, I see,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Rheggi standing there.

  “Rheggi! They released you as well?"

  He nodded. "Yes, had to find them," he said.

  Moorhen searched the faces in the firecave. One was missing. He swallowed, not sure he wanted this news. "Draihe, then? Is she … ?"

  Rheggi looked solemn. "She fell at the Northern Cones. The Chanden didn't have her at the prison. I asked."

  This came as a surprise. Moorhen had hoped he'd been wrong about that. He'd almost expected to find her here with the clan. He felt the loss of her all over.

  "I'm sorry," said Rheggi, touching his arm.

  Moorhen nodded numbly. “The Chanden didn't attack, then?”

  “No," said Rheggi. “What happened? What about the war?”

  “I saw Channik and a group of others who had survived Hobset. I tried to persuade them to leave the war party and come home but they refused. Only 11 came back with us.”

  “Surely, the sandstorm took Channik and the others,” said Mirrhia.

  This was grim news.

  “And what of the godstone and the Borrai-Asta?” asked Rheggi.

  “She said that the gods would tolerate the Chanden, if they obey the laws. I think Koethe intends to. He isn't bad, at heart. But, she vowed that those who fought at the Stony Dunes would not survive,” he said solemnly.

  The others nodded. “Let’s hope that the Chanden will listen,” said Rheggi.

  Moorhen nodded. "I believe they will." He smiled for the sake of his family, but inwardly--he worried. Conditions on Garran were still dangerous. He didn't know how the conflict with the Garrans would go. If Koethe
honored his word, and if he did as Borrai-Asta had commanded, then the Garrans might regain rule of a large part of their lands.

  Isn't that what they wanted? With independent rule restored, under the leadership of the Conclave, then peace should return. All Garrans would surely be happy with that.

  "The loss of Channik and the others," said Mirrhia, "has left us leaderless. But Moorhen, you would be next in line to be chieftain." She smiled at him.

  Him … Chieftain? The thought was unsettling. But the others all looked pleased. Moorhen took a deep breath. Then, he would do his best to make Garran a world of peace.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  The command center in Urrlan still bustled with activity in the wake of the sandstorm, which had died down. All extra personnel had been activated to deal with refugees, many of which had come from the northeastern Chanden settlements that Koethe had ordered to be evacuated. Asta had asked for it.

  In some vain hope that it would bring her back, he complied. She had not been seen since before the storm--not since she had walked out into the desert. Koethe had sent teams out to comb the desert looking for her, convinced somehow that she was alive.

  But it had been a full day since the storm died down and all his efforts yielded nothing.

  Nyan stood beside Koethe in all this, helping with his men in whatever way he could. Meanwhile, his counterpart, Montani, left Garran with her own division, determined to oust Koethe and ruin his career.

  "I'm sorry, there's nothing," reported in one of his searchers.

  "Keep looking," said Koethe.

  Nyan observed him soberly. "You don't think she's still alive, do you? You saw that storm."

  Koethe stared at the computer map in the center of the table. He shrugged. "There could be other survivors. Soldiers. Villagers. I can't just stop looking, can I?"

  Nyan's face was sympathetic. He knew how much Koethe missed Asta. "No, I suppose not."

  They stood there in silence for a few moments. Then one of Koethe's men called out. "I have a report, sir. They've seen her."

  Koethe's heart beat faster. He hurried to a console. "Put it through." The wait seemed interminable. Finally a voice came on. "Sir, she's here--at Mirkke. We have her."

  "Yes?" demanded Koethe, breathless. "Well, is she alive?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Koethe breathed a sigh of relief. His daughter--all right. "Bring her back to Urrlan."

  There was a silence on the radio. Then the voice came back. "I can't, sir. She's … Well, I think you'd better come here."

  Come to Mirkke? "Is she injured?" he demanded.

  "No, sir."

  Mirkke stood in the desert west of the High Plains, right on the line between what Asta had designated as Chanden and what she'd designated as Garran. Nothing but a ruin.

  Koethe drew a breath. "I'm on my way." He cut the conversation off. "Get me a ship," he ordered his crew.

  Captain Fauke followed close behind him as he headed for the landing pad. So did Chief Nyan and his two guards. So be it. Koethe didn't argue.

  Together they boarded the airship and took off. It wasn't a long journey. Mirkke wasn't far from Urrlan, not by air. Urrlan stood on a cliff that overlooked the High Plains. Mirkke stood on a high butte in the middle of nowhere, an ancient Borrai city. Koethe had no idea why the Borrai had built there.

  Koethe counted down the minutes until they landed, impatiently. Finally, they arrived. The place had an oddly convenient place to land an airship. Koethe was the first to debark, followed closely by the others.

  He hurried towards the center of the ruined city, which was symmetrically built in a circle out of ancient moonstone. There in the center stood a stone pavilion and Asta stood in the center of it.

  "Asta!" he cried. He ran at first, eager to see her. She turned and stared at him with those glowing blue eyes. He slowed down and stopped.

  "Asta," he said, quietly, hoping that some part of his daughter was left.

  "Commander Koethe," she returned formally. A cold greeting. She stood there, unharmed, dressed lightly for the weather, looking as if she'd come on an afternoon outing--not as if she'd just survived the worst sandstorm in history.

  "You're all right?" he asked breathlessly. The others began to catch up with him and stopped upon seeing her.

  "I am fine," she said.

  He stared at her. So calm, so alien. It was not his daughter. Yet it was.

  She took a step towards him. "I see that you have withdrawn your people to the southwest, as requested."

  Nyan shot him a look, only now realizing what Koethe had done. He had been complying with Asta's demands as a Borrai.

  "Yes," said Koethe. "Those areas are no longer safe," he said, as much for Nyan's benefit as hers.

  She nodded, looking slightly amused. It unnerved him how her blue eyes sparkled. "Good."

  Now Nyan objected. "You can't give away half the planet to the Garrans. As you said--the High Commission will never approve it."

  "But there have been cases where a treaty has been made with native inhabitants, giving them independent control of a portion of the land. The northeast is just a desert wasteland, after all. It's not worth fighting for."

  Nyan looked back at Asta. The sight of her seemed to unsettle him. Those blue eyes. "It would take time to ratify such a treaty, once it was even approved."

  "True," said Koethe. "It could take years. Meanwhile, I can't afford to man cities a hundred miles from the capital. I won't put my people at risk like that."

  The chief considered this thoughtfully. "Garran is a dangerous planet, considering the recent turn of events." He stared at Asta a moment.

  "Back me up on this," Koethe said, in earnest.

  Nyan turned back to Koethe. "I think I could recommend such an action to the High Commission."

  "Thank you," he murmured. He knew that Nyan was taking a risk here. "I appreciate it."

  Now Koethe took a few steps closer to his daughter. "Now that this is over, darling, won't you come home?"

  Her eyes sparkled blue. "I have duties to carry out."

  His heart sank.

  She turned to go. That was it? She would just walk out into the desert again?

  "Asta, wait!" he said. He took several more steps, closing the gap between them so that he could speak without shouting. She paused, looking at him curiously, as though finding it odd that he should try to stop her.

  "Asta," he said. He took a breath, not sure quite what he wanted to say. "I know that it hasn't been … the last few years, we haven't really spoken." He stuttered, uncertainly. "I just wanted you to know that--I'm sorry. You're my daughter and I love you--no matter what you chose to do with your life."

  She stood there and stared at him a moment. Perhaps she looked a little less remote. Maybe her eyes were a little less blue--a little more like her own self. "Thank you," she said quietly.

  He felt a thrill. He felt as though he had gotten through. Was this his Asta? He took another step towards her.

  "Please, don't stay away forever. I want you to come visit me."

  He thought he saw her nod. Then she spoke. "I have some tasks to complete," she said. Again distant. The eyes glowed a strong blue. She took one last look at him before she turned and walked away. He thought he saw her smile.

  Koethe watched her go. He let out a breath. She had vanished over the hill before he gave up watching.

  She would come.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Meredith Skye lives in the Land of the Midnight Sun, in Alaska. She loves to travel. She loves swords, castles and ancient lifestyles. She loves Celtic art and music. She's a vivid dreamer and many of her dreams come back to life in her stories. She wrote "The Gods of Garran" for the Nanowrimo Challenge in 2004.

  Meredith'swebsite: http://www.meredithskye.com

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  MAGIC SPAWN

  By Meredith Skye

  Description: A ten year old boy stumbles into a cemetery crypt to waken an ancient magic on Halloween night. The small town must defend themselves from the undead horrors brought upon them by a dark mage from another plane of existence. Then they learn a terrible secret--the boy is not of this world! If the necromancer captures him, then the results will be catastrophic for both their worlds.

  SAMPLE CHAPTER

  PROLOGUE

  An October wind whistled through the maple trees, sending a new flurry of burnt orange leaves to the ground. Dark clouds glowered on the horizon as the sun slipped down behind the mountains as Lauretta Bross hurried down the front steps of their Victorian farmhouse.

  “Corey!” she called.

  A cold breeze tickled her skin, blowing her sandy blond hair. She shivered and hurried over the lawn to the back of the house. She avoided a pile of toy cars left by her seven year old son, Phillip. The smell of sour apples from the orchard reminded her that she’d meant to pick and can more this year but just hadn’t been able to find the time. Now the season was getting too late.

  There were a lot of things she hadn’t found time for.

  “Corey?” she yelled towards the barn, but it was dark.

  No sign of her husband back here. She headed to the front yard. Down the long driveway that connected their little farm to Springville Lane, Lauretta thought she saw a figure. The sun was setting fast and it was hard to see.