A novel by Meredith Skye

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Nearly two hundred of Morrhan's kinsmen rode north through the desert heat. In Morrhan's memory, such a large Sand Plain war party had never left their territory. There was no concealing the group, not with those numbers. Finding a sandcave to shelter them in each night proved difficult.

With them marched Nevehan of the Upper Steppe Clan, third son of Wanlann—the chief that had invited the Sand Plain Clan to join the attack on the Chanden. Nevehan was a fierce warrior with flowing red hair.

Two from the Red Sun Clan marched with them as well. The Red Sun had always been enemies to the Sand Plain Clan. Morrhan had thought they were not to be trusted. Yet now they rode together with them—Shann and Serra, a brother and sister.

Shann, a short, sandy blond man with a ruddy complexion, had a smile that always looked like a leer. His demeanor was that of the shady sort of Garran that Morrhan always avoided at inter-clan meetings. He was the kind of person that made Morrhan want to double-check his pockets after an encounter to make sure that nothing had been stolen.

Shann's beautiful sister, Serra, on the other hand, had long, silver-blond hair hung neatly braided at her back. Her tall, lean stature made her a convincing warrior. Her favored weapon, a short sword, hung at her side, as did a small silver dagger.

When Serra smiled, Morrhan immediately wanted to trust her. As did his brother, Channik, currently Ashtan's heir as chief. Enraptured, Channik spent many hours riding beside the Red Sun woman.

She returned all his flirtations. However, Morrhan noticed that she smiled at Nevehan of the Upper Steppe just as much as at the eldest of Ashtan.

If the Chanden hadn't nearly killed his youngest son, then Ashtan would never had allied with people such as these.

Towards evening, a hunting party of twenty went out looking for food. Nevehan and Serra led the group. Channik volunteered for this expedition, not wanting to be parted from Serra.

Shann rode towards the front with Ashtan, Morrhan's father, as a guide. Within an hour, they found a firecave that could house most of the group. A few were forced to set up tents and sleep outside.

Morrhan didn't like this. The Chanden had eyes everywhere, including up in the sky. They would see their war party and grow suspicious. Also, the group should travel at night and rest during the day, to avoid being seen. But neither Nevehan nor Ashtan seemed to worry about this.

Seeing to the yithhe seemed to be Morrhan's appointed task. He was watering the beasts when the war party returned, successfully carrying a slain orvallin large enough to give all the warriors a portion of fresh meat.

But they had found something else. A Chanden man, tied with a rope and stumbled along behind one of the yithhe. A large bruise showed on the side of the man's head.

Morrhan quelled a sense of panic. War parties could get out of hand at times—and everyone's tempers were hot. Morrhan wondered what they intended to do to this man. But Ashtan led the war party and Morrhan's father was not a rash man.

Curious, Morrhan crowded around the returning warriors along with others.

The prisoner fought to keep his feet, clearly exhausted. Once the party stopped, Channik turned his yithhe over to Morrhan. "Here, brother, take care of this."

"Yes." Morrhan nodded at the stranger. "Who is this?"

"We found him camped in the desert. A spy maybe." Channik untied the rope from his yithhe, yanking the cord and causing the man to stumble forward and fall. "Perhaps we should kill him."

"Kill him!" shouted several warriors.

The man struggled to get to his feet. "No! Please! I'm no spy," he pleaded. He glanced around, looking for a sympathetic face and his gaze settled on Morrhan. "I'm searching for fire crystals, that is all! I swear it."

He'd just gotten to his feet when Shann kicked him from behind, sending him headlong to the ground. The group laughed. Not wanting to miss out on the sport, Channik stepped up and kicked the Chanden in the side of the head.

"Channik!" began Morrhan but just then, Ashtan arrived to survey the scene. Relieved, Morrhan moved back. His father would stop this.

"Who is this?" Ashtan demanded.

"A spy," said Nevehan. "We found him in the desert—watching us."

"I'm not a spy!" said the Chanden. "I work at the factory in Karther."

"Liar!" Shann yelled at the man, who still cowered on the ground.

"You have to believe me!" begged the man.

"He's a spy," said Nevehan. "And a thief. I'll show you how we deal with Chanden traitors. Gag him." He nodded at the prisoner. Shann took a strip of cloth and gagged the Chanden, quelling his pleas.

When that was done, Nevehan jerked the rope, forcing the man to enter the camp. The warriors gathered around to watch. Morrhan's heart beat quickly, apprehensive of what Nevehan meant to do.

"Behold this Chanden," he said. "He is everything you hate. The Chanden came from the sky. They burned our homes, stole our cities, and killed our gods—all so that this man could take our place, live in our cities and eat our food. He would make slaves of us all!"

The warriors let out a shout of anger. Nevehan had piled all of the sins of the Chanden on the head of this one man, who had done none of those things. He had not even been born when the Chanden had invaded.

The man's objections were muffled by the gag.

Ashtan watched all this silently, making no objections. Morrhan willed him to say something to stop this. He was the chief!

"We cannot let his kind dominate us," said Nevehan. "We have to show the Chanden that we can resist and that we have the will to resist!" Some of the warriors shouted approval at this. "Otherwise, we will continue to be their slaves."

The tall warrior punched the prisoner in the stomach, which made the man fall to his knees. Then he kicked him in the face, knocking him over. From there, others joined in.

Still, Ashtan remained silent.

Morrhan could scarcely watch. He turned away. Draiha stood nearby. "We can't do this," whispered Morrhan. "This man is innocent. He hasn't done anything."

Draiha looked at Morrhan. "That is for Ashtan to decide," she said. "Maybe he is a spy."

Morrhan shook his head in frustration. The warriors cheered as each took a turn beating up the prisoner. Morrhan felt sick. Perhaps he was not a warrior after all.

He began to leave.

"Where are you going?" asked Draiha.

"Nowhere," said Morrhan. "I have to take care of the yithhe." He gathered the reins of several of the creatures and began leading them away. Crysethe followed him.

"You're upset," his sister accused him.

Morrhan tried not to say anything. Every time he spoke out, he got into trouble.

"Morrhan?" she pestered him, keeping up with his fast pace. She tugged at one of the yithhe's reins. "I can help you."

Morrhan looked at his little sister, and let her take one of the reins. A little help would be welcome.

"You disagree with Nevehan?" Her eyes held a question.

"Yes," said Morrhan. He glanced at her. "I'm angry with the Chanden too. But, this is wrong."

She considered this as they walked silently together. "Father permitted it."

"I know," said Morrhan. "I'm not sure that makes it right."

Her eyes went a little wide at this. She followed Morrhan but said no more.

___________________________

Please vote for this chapter!