The Gods of Garran: Chapter 15

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A novel by Meredith Skye

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The following day, Asta and the others traveled towards the Eye of Innurlan. Molot plunged forward, ever confident of Asta's ability to pass through the cursed area.

Through Molot's extensive discourses she learned that Innurlan was the oldest of the ancient gods—and the most vengeful.

"A thousand years ago when the Garrans were just beginning to live together as organized clans and build dwellings, Innurlan ruled the plains from the Upper Steppes to the Glass Sea—the First God. Innurlan ventured destruction, fierce and terrible, on all those who harmed the earth or any creature on it, aside from those creatures killed for food. It was said that in this valley Innurlan resided.

"Even though the gods are dead, no one dares to venture here," Molot continued. "It has lain untouched for hundreds of years."

Asta stared at him. "Then how do you know your way here?"

"We usually go around, but it takes weeks. We would take this road if we dared," he said, with a gleam in his eye. "And you dare."

She said nothing, doubting her own bravery.

As they pressed forward though the desert, Asta saw nothing but parched grass, spider-shrubs and endless sand for miles.

The day crawled by slowly as they traveled in the shapeless landscape accompanied by the ever shifting tales of family intrigue by Molot, some of which Asta found amusing.

The wind began increasing in intensity, which didn't bother Molot. Asta feared they were walking into a storm.

"No," said Molot. "All is normal."

With that assurance they continued on. The landscape began to change and gain some definition. Small ridges and gentle hills broke up the horizon a little. The wind grew worse but Molot never stopped smiling ... or talking.

At last they came to a lava arch at least twice their height that made a sort of entryway into what seemed like a long, wide lava wall that spanned miles of desert. Inside the archway, the wind looked terrible. Molot stopped and looked at Asta.

"The Eye of Innurlan." Said Molot. "Ask the gods for safe passage."

She stared back at him. She had no idea how to do that and really didn't know what he expected of her. She nudged her yithhe forward so that she was right in front of the arch and waited for a few moments but nothing happened. It was crazy—they should go back. The winds in there looked almost like a tornado.

"Did you ask her?" asked Molot.

"Who?" asked Asta.

"Innurlan."

Innurlan was a woman? She said nothing but returned her gaze to the arch. Give us safe passage, she thought. Innurlan, she added, just to be clear. The request was a shot in the dark but stranger things had happened on this trip. As if in answer, Asta felt a wave of dizziness, similar to the ones she experienced in the mountain. Was that the answer? She glanced over at Molot.

"Did they say yes?" he asked expectantly.

She nodded. "Yeah." Though she wasn't so sure. She signaled her yithhe to go forward and it began, somewhat reluctantly, to enter the archway. The winds continued to howl and rage on the other side, but none of it touched Asta. Molot followed closely behind her, grinning, with his cousins following behind him (both looking a little unsure).

"It worked. I told you so," he said to Asta. Then back to his cousins. "You see?" He laughed and pointed straight ahead. Asta kept moving that way and they followed. They rode in the center of the eye of the storm, which moved with Asta wherever she went. The others stayed close, never straying far from her.

The afternoon passed like this. Visibility lowered to zero in the storm but Molot kept prompting Asta as though he knew the direction, even though blind. For once, Asta was glad to have him along. Even Molot kept silent as they passed through this area, all said to be cursed land in the minds of the Garrans.

The feeling that they were being watched grew. Asta turned around several times expecting someone or something to be there ... but there was nothing.

Towards evening they arrived at another archway encased in a lava wall, similar to the first. For a moment, Asta feared it was the first and that they'd gone in circles. But Molot stopped them, grinning. Asta stopped and looked at him.

"Before we leave," said Molot, "you must thank the gods."

Asta nodded and turned towards the arch, staring at it a moment. Thank you, Innurlan, she directed at no one in particular. She felt a dizziness as if in answer. The winds began to catch at them again, as though the shield had been dropped. Quickly Asta took them through the archway, followed by Molot and his cousins. All of them looked quite pleased.

"Now, we head for Desolation and Koshke," said Molot.

"Desolation?" asked Asta, as if this wasn't it.

"The Desert of Desolation between here and Koshke."

"Oh. Yes," she said, trying to make it sound like she knew what he was talking about. Again they set out.

"Did I ever tell you about my third mother's grandfather who once saw a tree-elf in the woods near Karther?"

"No," said Asta, "but I feel I'm about to."

At this he smiled. "It was nearly one hundred years ago," he began. "Back before the Chanden ...." And so most of the early evening went.

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In the Desert of Desolation, the yithhe didn't like the hard, sun-baked ground and complained with low whines every now and then, particularly on rocky stretches of ground.

Asta worried, between distractions offered by Molot, about what happened at the Eye of Innurlan and also at the mountain near Wanthe. Was there something to these gods of Garran? Or was it her imagination?

Had the gods really escorted their party through the sandstorm or did they just happen to find the eye of the storm? Or perhaps the lava wall sheltered them? But there was also the "miracle" of the water. She had no memory of what happened, of how it happened or how she ended up back at the front chamber door.

And sometimes she felt some force just on the edge of her mind, testing her.

In truth, Asta didn't believe in any gods—Garran or Chanden—only in herself. The individual mattered. The individual had a responsibility (to a reasonable point) to society. But Asta had always relied on herself for all matters in her life—on herself and her family. For her there was nothing else.

Yet ... she thought maybe she felt some connection there, to something outside herself.

And if some other force were helping her—to what end? To help her betray the Garrans? She doubted that. What did this force expect?

Asta shook her head and tried to banish the thought. It was nonsense. She had a job to do. These people were planning a rebellion and she'd help stop it. No matter what their reasons, the Garrans weren't justified in breaking the law.

She turned a deaf ear to her own internal arguments and concentrated on Molot's outrageous stories as they made their way to Koshke.

Once again vegetation began to appear in the form of red-grass and squat, yellow jeneb-bushes. This more habitable area would more likely hold civilization. The earth softened and became sandy again. The winds calmed down to a steady gale from the west.

Startled, Asta slowed her yithhe as she saw a figure about 50 feet away move back behind a bush. She stopped. "Something's there!"

The others stopped and looked. Out of the corner of her eye, on the other side, she saw another small dark figure dart behind a ledge.

Molot and the others peered around.

"Tacha," Molot said, and continued on unconcerned, as did the others. Asta followed, keeping a careful eye out.

Molot noticed her concern. "Did you not have tacha in Noloon?"

Asta had never been to her supposed hometown. "I never saw any," she answered, hoping that was right.

"When they built Koshke," said Molot, "they drove them out, but the tacha keep coming back, stealing things from the gardens. Pests."

"Are they human?" she asked. The tacha were sullen, mangy, dark creatures.

"No," he answered quickly. "Not at all. They only have our form, but no language." Molot didn't give them a backward glance. "I have friends in Koshke that will take us in. Do not be concerned." He gave her an affable smile.

Asta saw more tacha—many more—before they arrived at Koshke at dusk.

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