A novel by Meredith Skye

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The ravine was still. It was nearly dark.

Sindke and her clansmen secured their mounts.

"Watch the east," said Sindke to Rouvidinn. He nodded and beckoned two of the strangers to follow. Morrhan nodded to Draiha and Gudhel and they followed Rouvidinn.

They would help. It wouldn't be the end of his clansmen.

"The Red Sun Clan are not far," said Sindke. "Can he walk at all?"

"Not much," said Morrhan. "We've been walking almost two days without rest and little water."

"What happened?" asked Sindke.

Morrhan hesitated a moment. It was a shameful story. "Our clan is destroyed. Our father, Ashtan, grew angry at the Chanden and, in league with the Upper Steppe and the Red Sun Clan he attacked Hobset—but the other clans betrayed us. Ashtan is dead and we are all that's left."

Sindke nodded. "This rash action will bring down the Chanden wrath upon us all."

Morrhan's own silence was an admission.

Just then Draiha called a warning and the Red Sun Clan was upon them. From the ravine, the rocks partly obscured Morrhan's view.

He drew the Chanden laser he'd picked up from a fallen warrior in Hobset. Though he preferred his bow, the laser had a greater range. As the Red Sun Clan came over the ridge, Morrhan took several shots at them. But the weapon didn't balance or aim the way he expected. He managed to wound one but now he wished there was time to switch to his bow. He stayed near Taglethe and Sindke to protect them, as did Crysethe. The battle didn't go well —but without the others ... they would have had no chance.

Morrhan cursed as he saw Gudhel take a hit. He stuffed the gun in his satchel and drew his sword as three of the Sun Clan got over the ridge and came towards them. The one named Asta, a pale woman with delicate hair, raised her ooluk to take one on but another went after her as well.

Morrhan ran to her defense and fought the second clansman. Morrhan had done very little true fighting like this and was barely holding the man off when Asta finished her battle and came to his aid.

"Thank you," he said.

She scowled at him and continued on. She had a strange beauty to her; she looked the way he imagined one of the gods would look. He noticed her sword was a sacred relic with god-runes on it. That she dared to use it impressed him. Moreover, she was a half-garr, he was sure. She had a slightly foreign look.

Morrhan took on several of the Red Sun Clan, not at once. He managed to kill one and wound another. But he himself took a wound on his left arm.

Even the old woman fought with her long sword. Several of their fighters were seasoned warriors, so that even though the Red Sun Clan outnumbered them, they held their own.

Though the battle seemed long, it ended soon. The remaining Red Sun Clan gave up and withdrew, seeing that they had reinforcements.

Morrhan hurried up the slope to the others. There Draiha knelt, crying, over Gudhel. Gudhel was dead—as was Rollech. The loss of two more clan-brothers seemed unbearable after the losses they had already suffered. There were so few of them left. Morrhan truly feared for his clan. The newcomers—those of the Conclave had lost men also.

Morrhan went up to Sindke who, while she was old, still looked as though she could wield a dagger with some skill. "We lost one, and two are wounded—one badly."

"I'm sorry," said Morrhan. He had bandaged his own wound. It wasn't bad.

"She was my clan-sister," said Jarvaine, sitting next to Kodinn. "I can't stop the bleeding. Sindke—can you help her?"

Sindke went over to the woman. The wounds looked very severe.

Jarvaine rose to let Sindke minister to the girl. He paced about letting his displeasure show. "This was not our battle," said Jarvaine, glaring at Morrhan. "Why should we fight their battles for them—after they started a war with the Chanden?"

Morrhan didn't blame him for feeling this way. Ashtan's attack was foolish and Morrhan feared it would cost the Garrans much.

"May the sea take you!" said Jarvaine. An old curse. Morrhan could think of no reply.

"Jarvaine—be silent," said Sindke. "We can do nothing tonight but rest. Set up a double watch and we'll sleep in shifts."

"I won't sleep," he muttered as he went off to do her bidding.

Morrhan, Draiha, and Sindke saw to the wounded. Asta, the pale woman, sat apart from them and didn't help nor speak. He almost thought her in a trance, she kept so still. Sindke and the others made no demands on her and likewise Morrhan left her alone.

He wondered if she were so pale on account of some sickness or if it were because of her foreign blood. Odd though, that she should ride with the Conclave and carry a god-sword.

Then again, people also said that Morrhan looked pale. Doubts rose in him once again about his mother. He sought out Rheggi and sat by him. Rheggi was wounded, but not badly.

They sat a moment in silence. Morrhan wanted answers—yet didn't want them. "What my father said—about the Sand Plain Clan ...." Morrhan was not sure how to ask it. "My Mother—he would never tell me ...."

"She was not of the Sand Plain Clan," said Rheggi.

Ashtan had never said this. "What was she?"

Rheggi didn't look at Morrhan. "I never knew your mother, Morrhan, I'm sorry."

How could he not know Morrhan's mother—and he live his whole life in the clan? "She died in childbirth?"

"You should ask the mothers about this. They could tell you," Rheggi said. He got up and walked over to help with the wounded, even though his help wasn't needed. Morrhan mulled the answers over. Rheggi knew more than he let on. No one had said that his mother had died in childbirth, but they had hinted at it. No one had ever wanted to discuss this—especially not Ashtan.

Once everyone was settled and the wounds tended to, Sindke came over to Morrhan. "I've done what I can," she said. Then in a lower voice, "but I fear that the woman will not live out the night. I will stay with her."

Morrhan nodded.

The newcomers took the first several watches, allowing Morrhan and the others, who were thoroughly exhausted, to rest. Morrhan fell to sleep quickly but did not sleep very soundly, troubled by too many matters and the vague memory of strange dreams.

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Morrhan took a watch near dawn and found that the woman, Kodinn, had died in the night—as Sindke had said she would. That left Taglethe and Rouvidinn that were still badly wounded. At least the Red Sun Clan had not attacked during the night.

The pale one, Asta, didn't sleep and stood apart from them, restless. She looked worried. He wished he knew a way to comfort her.

"Sleep," he told her. "I'll watch."

"I can't," she said, without further explanation.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Asta looked ill.

"I'm fine," she said but her cold tone told him that she wanted to be left alone—so he left her alone. She looked as though she had scarcely slept.

Soon dawn came and the others woke. Jarvaine's mood was dangerous. He said little, but his eyes were angry and Morrhan sensed that not all that anger was directed at the Sand Plain Clan.

"Where now?" demanded Jarvaine. "What is our course?"

Sindke looked over at Asta, who remained aloof. Then Sindke turned her gaze to Morrhan. "Morrhan—tell us—what is our course?"

He stared at her, having no idea why she would ask him.

"We were headed to the Dead Knolls, on a quest to find one of the ancient god-stones," said the old woman. "We'd hoped to find instructions there at a shaheak temple."

The god-tablet. Morrhan felt a rush of guilt. He was no shaheak—yet he had entered the chamber. He'd told no one that he had taken the tablet.

"The chamber was destroyed," said Draiha coldly. "Morrhan ventured in—and brimstone overran it."

At this, Sindke looked a little startled—she stared hard at Morrhan.

Morrhan hesitated, loathe to make this confession. He pulled the god-tablet out of his pouch. All eyes turned to him—his own clan surprised. "I took it when the brimstone rose," said Morrhan, handing it to Sindke—embarrassed that he had not told his own clan and especially not even his own father. Draiha glared at him, angry.

Sindke took the tablet, with a glance at Jarvaine who now seemed pacified. "This stone will guide us," she said to Jarvaine. Then to Morrhan, "You've saved us a journey, Morrhan of the Sand Plains."

Morrhan nodded but still felt ashamed. He was surprised that she didn't reprimand him, though perhaps the gods would take their own vengeance on him in time. Sindke studied Asta a moment before she sat down to look at the tablet.

"It speaks of the god Traelak, one of the seven gods. He holds the next key," said Sindke. "There is a riddle here that even I do not understand. But Traelak is the god of the sea and the Kinsikk Sea lies far to the northwest. Perhaps it is there that we will find the god-stone."

"And what of Rouvidinn and the others?" asked Jarvaine, referring to the wounded.

"We shall send them back to Koshke," she said. "Molot," she said. "You and your cousin shall take them back. We will stop and get animals for the others to ride and continue on to the east."

The others nodded. "I hope our journey bears fruit, after so many loses," said Jarvaine.

"That is my hope also," said Sindke.

They packed up the camp and began the long journey to Koshke. At least they had help now—water, protection and animals for Taglethe to ride. Taglethe would not be happy about being left behind in a strange clan—but the Clan Conclave held the highest honor on Garran. 

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