Gods of Garran

The Gods of Garran: Chapter 27

A novel by Meredith Skye

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They traveled southeast, gradually leaving behind the green land of the northwest. After days of traveling, they found their way back to the desert.

Morrhan still harbored some embarrassment at having wrestled the woman, Asta, to the ground. It grieved him that he'd angered her. They had followed her all the way to the edge of the cliff at the edge of the sea. The gods had led her there in her sleep, though even she didn't seem aware of it.

Even now, as they rode through the harsh desert, Asta seemed worried about something. Preoccupied. She stayed aloof as usual, but Morrhan caught her glancing at him every now and then as though curious about him. This surprised him. She had an elegance about her and a disdain.

He guessed that her family was either well-off or was one of the higher clans, the way she acted. Her interest in him seemed out of character. But there was a loneliness about her that Morrhan felt drawn to fill. It didn't seem right that she be allowed to confine herself to continual solitude.

She was beautiful, her hair, her body. Their night bathing together at the pool was a pleasant memory. She had delicate lips and a pale face, but she herself was not always delicate. In battle she could be fierce and he admired her. Her strange fits of sleepwalking were disturbing and again he felt she needed to be protected ... even against herself at times.

Overall, she was a mystery. Maybe that's why Morrhan spent so much time thinking about her and her oddities.

Morrhan was drawn out of his reverie a by small movement on the horizon. He'd seen this earlier, while they traversed the marshes but now they were in the desert there was less cover. He stopped his yithhe and looked carefully across the horizon. It had vanished, but something was there, behind them.

Concerned, he spurred his yithhe and rode up to the front to Sindke.

"I saw something," said Morrhan. "I think we're being followed."

"Followed?" asked Sindke. Everyone's eyes immediately went to the horizon. But there was no movement.

"It's gone now, but I've seen it several times."

Sindke nodded. "We'll take precautions."

At a nod from Sindke, Jarvaine and Draiha left the group to scout behind and to the side of them.

Who would be following them? Not the Red Sun Clan, not this far north. The only answer seemed to be the Chanden. Had they tracked them somehow? Maybe with their airships? Surely they'd lost them by now. Or were they following them because of the farm back near the Kinsikk Sea?

In all this Asta said nothing, appearing unaffected. She always seemed to Morrhan to be half in a dream state. Worried. But why?

Jarvaine and Draihe reported back that they had seen nothing. The group continued on.

That night they neared Drealea, a Chanden outpost. They skirted it by going north, up against the cliffs that lead to the Northern Cones. Here they found a small bit of cover provided by low trees and shrubs.

The brown of the desert gave way to a red-colored sand and the ridges became more defined, more fantastical, assuming the shape of faces, bodies, monsters, towers.

They called this place Ghoul Hollow—haunted by the souls of the ages. These strange sand formations stood on their own, like statues, scattered randomly through the desert or in groups. It made the hair stand up on Morrhan's neck to see them. He half expected them to come to life.