Gods of Garran

The Gods of Garran: Chapter 34

A novel by Meredith Skye

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Gradually Morrhan became aware that he was lying face first on the floor of the craft, which wasn't level. They had landed. Morrhan wasn't able to feel smug about his premonitions about flying. His bones ached too much.

He remembered some sort of impact, along with frantic voices, saying that the plane couldn't be stabilized. Then Morrhan had lost consciousness.

Slowly, he struggled up to a sitting position. Nearby were two guards lying on the floor of the ship, both dead by the look of it. No sounds disturbed the silence of the ship. Had everyone been killed by the crash?

Not waiting to find out, Morrhan moved over to the nearest body and found a release key for the cuffs that held him. His hands were free at last. He rubbed them to try and ease the soreness.

Then he stood and pocketed the man's laser gun. Morrhan nearly fell over as he made his way over to the storage box. He found some water and took a long drink. From the box, he grabbed a backpack and stuffed it full of food, water, a knife, and a few other useful items.

Morrhan stepped past the dead guards and moved toward the front of the plane with his laser drawn. In the cockpit he found the pilot, his face all cut up from glass from the broken window. Dead also.

Koethe was nowhere in sight.

The plane would not be a good place to be. Morrhan needed to get out as soon as possible. He jumped out of the plane door. A few more bodies lay on the ground. Morrhan checked them—Koethe's men, all dead.

He got about 20 paces from the plane and saw another body further back. There were no prints leading to it so Morrhan suspected that the man had fallen out during the crash. It was Koethe—alive but unconscious.

Morrhan swore.

He'd hoped that Koethe had died along with all his men and that this would be the punishment of the gods on Koethe for his actions against the Garrans. Determined, Morrhan pulled out the knife and held it to Koethe's throat. He deserved it—he had wronged Morrhan and his people in many ways. Here he was now, defenseless, as though the gods had delivered Koethe into his hands to kill. Surely that is what the gods wished?

Still Morrhan hesitated. Only a coward would kill an unconscious man. Koethe posed no threat to Morrhan now and, as angry as Morrhan felt over the death of his own clan, they had killed innocent Chanden families. Of course the Chanden would retaliate.

Moreover, the Gods of Garran were stirred up—embodied in Asta. Koethe was still her father. If there was a chance of offending the gods, Morrhan had no intention of doing it.

Finally, Morrhan put the knife away and searched Koethe, taking away his weapons. From the pack, Morrhan found a pair of cuffs and secured Koethe's hands behind his back. Then he checked him for injuries but found only scratches and bruises on his arms and legs from the fall.

Morrhan stood and scanned the horizon. He knew where they were—just south of the Sea of Glass. It was a holy place. Clear and completely flat, the Sea of Glass lay like a mirror on the desert floor. Long ago brimstone had come forth from a nearby volcano and filled the valley floor with fire. When it cooled, it formed the Sea of Glass—a sea not made of water. No clan member dared go to this god-place.

Here Asta would go, Morrhan was certain of it.

Sudden movement behind Morrhan startled him. Koethe stirred groggily. The look of surprise and dismay on Koethe's face satisfied Morrhan.

"You!" said Koethe. He tried to stand but fell back down. "My men?"

"All dead," said Morrhan. Koethe glared at Morrhan in disgust. "Killed in the crash," Morrhan added, to clarify. He brandished his own weapon to let Koethe know he was armed. "I could have killed you—but I chose not to."

Koethe considered this silently. "Now what?"

"She will go north to the Sea of Glass. We'll follow," said Morrhan.

There was no objection from Koethe. Perhaps he still thought he could reason with Asta, but Morrhan doubted very much that he could. Asta was beyond them all.

Another sandstorm brewed in the distance; they happened frequently out near the Sea of Glass. At least it would keep Chanden airships from following them, he hoped. But the problem of being caught in a sandstorm was also dangerous for them.

As they trudged along, Koethe lagged behind, favoring his right leg. So he had been wounded. Morrhan failed to feel sympathy for him and kept up a quick pace. Later, they stopped to rest for a moment and Morrhan had a long drink of water.

"I need water as well," said Koethe, irritated. It sounded like a demand coming from a superior to an inferior. The Chanden could see them as nothing else, even under such circumstances as these. Morrhan hardened his heart.

"No," Morrhan said. He wouldn't let this man treat him like a servant. He deserved nothing. "I went without water in your care after a long walk in the desert." Morrhan put the flask away and kept walking. He felt some small satisfaction in getting that little bit of revenge.

Koethe said nothing. Perhaps he knew he deserved worse at Morrhan's hands.

"I meant no harm to your daughter," said Morrhan. "I considered her a friend until I learned she had lied to all of us. By then it was too late and the god-stone had her."

"What will you do, when you find her?" asked Koethe.

"I'll find her and then I'll know," said Morrhan. He had no idea what he would do, but he needed her help now, desperately, to undo what her father had set into motion. Maybe he would reason with her—see if she really was god-touched. If not, maybe he would kill her and claim the god-stone. The stone should be taken to the priests; they could free the gods inside it.

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