Gods of Garran

The Gods of Garran: Chapter 22

A novel by Meredith Skye

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

Towards dawn, Morrhan 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 Morrhan have a much needed rest. Exhausted, Morrhan 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, Morrhan pulled it out, studying it by the dim torch light. The square tablet, slightly larger than his hand, shone dimly of iridescent moonstone. Many ancient runes decorated the front—a map of some sort. Morrhan 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.

Morrhan 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 Morrhan. As night approached he took his watch. What path should they take now? He had led them on an unknown path to the southwest. He'd hoped that perhaps the other clans also didn't know the route.

Morrhan 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 Morrhan'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.

The Sand Plain Clan had 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.

Morrhan 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.

Morrhan 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 Morrhan saw were sand-rabbits and dune-lizards.

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

"If we stop—they'll catch us," said Morrhan.

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

Morrhan 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 Morrhan wished it would blow again to cover their tracks."

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

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