The Gods of Garran (25 page)

Slowly the minutes dragged by in the command bunker outside of Rhashan. Godwin had arrested Koethe and relieved him of command. His officers were imprisoned. Koethe himself had been spared the indignity of being shackled and put in a cell.

Koethe stood near Chief Nyan in the Command bunker watching the progress of the troops on the small computer table that served as a map.
Koethe's men still sat in the cells, under arrest.

The last two decades, Koethe had such glorious plans for Garran. He would become the governor. He would make a name for himself and his descendants. Garran had great potential, if the conflicts would ever stop.

But now Koethe had been relieved of command. He'd be lucky if they didn't drag him back home in chains for a court martial. The thing that upset him the most was that either way, if they forced him off the planet then he may never see Asta again. His daughter would be stuck at the center of a civil war that was spiraling out of control. Would they even search for her?

It broke his heart.

He realized that he had been cold to her over the years. Had he pushed her away? He should have reached out to her more. Would that have hurt his dignity so much? Was he waiting for her to say she'd been wrong?

But the winds now tore at the camp outside, constantly howling. Every time the door opened, sand blew in every direction. Nyan and his six soldiers were ill at ease under the circumstances.

The bunker quietly awaited word about the advancing troops. Blackouts on the computer satellite became more frequent and lasted longer as the storm approached. Radio communication also became more and more difficult.

Nyan frowned at the computer map as it blacked out again. Helplessly, they waited for it to come back on. Koethe kept his tongue. He'd already explained to Nyan how bad these storms could get--the blackouts, the communication failures, the damage the sand itself could do to a man, not to mention equipment.

But Nyan was General Godwin's man and he had his orders. He would hold the bunker and would only act on orders from General Godwin.

"It's been two hours," said Koethe, restlessly.

"They're on foot in the desert. The approach will take time."

"They'll never make it," said Koethe. "Garran nor Chanden." He waved at hand at the black computer screen.

"Any word?" asked Nyan to one of his men.

"Nothing, sir. It's dead." His eyes held fear.

Nyan nodded but wasn't one to back down. "The General said to hold this position, then back him up." Part of the militia had been left behind at the Command center, held in reserve to fly in at the last minute via airship.

A sigh escaped Nyan. "Have the men load up in the airships. We have to send them now."

Koethe took a step closer. "Are you insane? You'll be sending them to their deaths!"

"I have my orders," said Nyan. "And order the auxiliary units to begin their attacks on the clan homes." Nyan had delayed this order this long.

"You can't," said Koethe, stepping towards Nyan. Several guards drew the guns and pointed them at Koethe. He stopped.

Nyan simply stared at him.

Gritting his teeth, Koethe took a few steps away. The situation was impossible. He suspected that a lot of the soldiers who'd left were already dead. But there was no way to confirm this. And Nyan's pedantic nature made the situation impossible.

"I'm getting a lot of interference," complained the communications officer.

Good.

Just then a soldier broke through the door from outside, letting in a blast of fine sand and wind. "Sir," the man said. "The storm is headed this way. I can see it."

Nyan looked calmly at him. "We're aware of the situation. You have orders. Carry them out."

The man stared at Chief Nyan, then looked over to Koethe, as in appeal. He was met with silence. Deflated, he replied. "Yes, sir." He turned and left, causing a swirl of sand when he opened the door.

"You should go look at it," said Koethe.

"I can see it on the computer," he said, but as they glanced at the screen, it was still blank. Nyan frowned again.

"Come see it," said Koethe. "Look at what you're sending your men into."

Nyan's face was stoic, but the Koethe could see the worry in his eyes. Finally, he relented. "Very well," he went to the doors and opened them. Koethe followed close behind.

They climbed up the stone stairway and out into the open air.

At noonday, the sky had blackened with clouds so that it looked like sunset. Snatches of red from the sun bled through at the edges of the sand clouds.

A fierce wind ripped through the camp, threatening to uproot every tent, many of which had been secured with cement blocks. Men ran here and there, trying to make preparations. In the distance, the airships were loading up but the wind drowned out even the sound of their engines.

And to the west, from the very direction Nyan had ordered the airships to fly, a wall of loose-flying sand a hundred feet high made its way towards the camp like a tidal-wave threatening a beach.

Nyan's eyes went wide at the sight. Slowly the wave crept towards them, like a doom. The sky grew steadily darker as they watched. The sight of the sandstorm sent a deep-rooted fear into even a seasoned veteran of Garran such as Koethe.

The storm would kill them all.

For a moment, Nyan stuttered, wordless. Then he turned to his officer. "Cancel the attack!" he said. "Order a retreat. Send it to all the troops! Get them out."

"Yes, sir," said the man.

"Have everyone retreat to Drealea!"

Relief spread over Koethe. Sanity, at last. He only hoped it was not too late. "And the attack on the clan homes?" pressed Koethe.

Nyan nodded. "Send word. Cancel the auxiliary attacks as well. All units should withdraw."

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied.

"Leave the tents," Nyan instructed another soldier. "Just load up the men."

All the remaining soldiers ran towards the airships. A few officers scrambled up out of the bunkers, carrying the computer equipment. It became a mad scramble for the airships as the storm crept ever closer, towering over them, ready to wash over the camp any moment.

Koethe's men were taken from the bunker, still prisoners, and loaded in the airships. Koethe waited with Nyan till the last moment then they ran for one of the last airships, just escaping the wrath of the desert.

On the airship, as it slipped safely away. Koethe let his mind go back to his daughter, stuck out there somewhere in the desert. He felt a despair at the thought. There was nothing he could do for her.

Turquoise, sea-green, burnt orange.

Things Chanden took the gods awhile to understand. Slowly, they comprehended and accepted many ideas that Asta had taken for granted.

With Asta's knowledge, the Chanden were no longer alien--unknown. They could be dealt with.

Things Borrai also took awhile to understand. Asta struggled to accept their ideas, many of which were strange. Some of which were wonderful.

And so many memories. A millennia of history began to unfold to her. The origins of the ruined Borrai cities, the rise of the Clans, the taming of the winds.

Blue, green, yellow.

The Outsiders had trespassed on the land long enough. The earth took its revenge, stilling their factories, chasing out the invaders from the fields and the wilderness that they threatened to destroy. The winds blew, the waves crashed. The most aggressive of both Chanden invaders and Garran clans had been swallowed by the sandstorm in the desert. Laid waste by the wind.

The remaining Chanden began to withdraw from the places the gods had chosen to protect.

Slowly, the gods' anger subsided.

Borrai-Asta walked through the most desolate places of the desert, past the corpses of Chanden. Past the corpses of Garran. A thousand of them. Those who had attempted to fight their war.

She paused and gazed out over the endless stretch of desert--her eyes a deep and glowing blue.

The last of her dread vanished and turned to peace.

The gods, who had become wise, would not again be banished from Garran.

The sandstorm lasted a night and a day. Moorhen waited for the end without patience. And without hope. They were too late. Whatever had befallen the
tsirvak
, had already happened. All they could do was to go see the damage.

Towards evening, Crysethe returned from the entrance where she’d spent hours watching.

“The storm is breaking,” said Crysethe. They all ran up there. It was true. As quickly as it had struck, the storm ended. A patch of blue sky could be seen in the distance.

“Let’s pack up,” said Moorhen, heading back to grab his stuff. No one wasted any time. Minutes later, they were ready to go. They loaded up the
yithhe
, which had been shelters at the front of the cave.

Traveling at night was actually better than traveling during the day, because it was cooler. The last clouds cleared up and the stars appeared.

All night they rode through the desert towards the
tsirvak
, and several hours into the next day. One thing Moorhen dreaded about going home--Norbi would not be there. He was the one family member that Moorhen knew he would never see in the clan home again.

Finally, the water towers came into view. They had made it to the Sand Plain Clan
tsirvak
.

Moorhen whistled and spurred his
yithhe
towards to entrance to the cave.
Yithhe
are not very light on their feet; even when they run--it’s closer to a fast lumber. Crysethe passed up Moorhen on her own
yithhe
, arriving at the door before Moorhen.

Already, there were warning signs. The Sand Plain
banners were slashed. Missa’s potted plants lay scattered in pieces at the entrance. There were signs of destruction.

Moorhen slid off his
yithhe
and had his bow in hand when he followed Crysethe into the
tsirvak
. He had no idea what to expect, but braced himself for the worst.

They ran to the first sitting room. Pots were smashed on the floor. Plates broken. Stools lay strewn in pieces. Numb, Moorhen strode through the wreckage. He kicked a broken stool. “I can’t believe the Chanden did this!”

Mirrhia and Derish strode through the room, examining the situation.

“If they’d just left me here, instead of dropping me off at the Desert Wind Clan cave, then we could have saved our clan,” said Moorhen, pained at the thought. Why hadn’t Koethe protected the clan home? Surely he knew that Moorhen couldn’t make it back in time.

“The clan was gone already,” said Mirrhia, still studying the scene.

Everyone looked at her.

She indicated the floor and walls. “There’s no blood. No sign of a scuffle. And all the gear is gone,” she said, pointing to the closet.

Moorhen stared around at the room. “There are no bodies.” He felt a surge of hope.

“Exactly,” said Mirrhia.

“Gone where?” asked Derish.

There was silence.

They all looked at each other. Where would they go? “Gythane Peak,” said Moorhen slowly. There was a secondary cave up there, frequently used by the Sand Plain Clan. It was higher up and difficult to find--about half a day’s ride from the
tsirvak
. They kept supplies there in case of emergency.

Mirrhia met his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go!”

Derish and the others followed as they rushed back outside to their
yithhe
.

In the end, Chief Nyan had ordered an evacuation of even the village of Drealea, which was also swallowed up by the desert storm. All units were ordered back to Urrlan.

Koethe and Nyan had arrived hours ago with all the troops they'd managed to save. Every hour, more troops straggled in.

Some of Koethe's militia had broken and run when the storm hit, knowing that Koethe hadn't approved the attack. Now, they straggled back to Urrlan in small groups. Some on foot, some in airships.

Terrible damage had been reported by both Chanden and Garran villages alike, due to the storm.

The orders to stop the attack on the clan homes had not all been received. Some of the auxiliary units had attempted to carry out the orders with mixed results. A few clan homes had been hit hard. Others had defended themselves, causing great casualties on both sides.

All of Garran was a mess.

In all of this, there had been no word from General Godwin nor his officers. Nyan had waited patiently, and had sent out troops to search, once the storm began to die down.

Koethe's officers: Becnand, Richt and Fauke had been released and were assisting in the recovery operations. Captain Fauke stayed close to Koethe, partly to guard him, as well as to assist him. Nothing more had been said of their arrest. Apparently, that was on hold.

Quietly, Koethe ordered all Chanden evacuated from Rhashan, Chiel, Anik, Hobset and Sonthhe--all of the northeastern Chanden colonies. It had been Asta's request. He used the hostilities as an excuse. And in truth those outposts were too far out to protect. It was perfectly reasonable. The Outlands were full of the wildest of Garrans and not safe in these explosive times.

"Commander," said Fauke. "A ship just arrived from Drealea. Chief Montani has been recovered."

Koethe felt a dread. She had been given charge of his militia. And she wouldn't be one to let this go. Chief Nyan had heard that and walked over. "Very well," Koethe replied. Nyan and Koethe exchanged a glance. Both of them hurried down to the landing pad to greet her.

Chief Montani looked ragged and exhausted. Anger flashed across her face when she saw Commander Koethe not in chains. "What is he doing here?" she demanded.

Nyan ignored the question. "What about General Godwin?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "I saw his ship go down. He's dead."

Nyan greeted this news solemnly. "I see." He glanced at Koethe. The General's death left a vacuum in the hierarchy of power. Chief Nyan was next in command.

"Shouldn't he be under arrest?" Montani demanded, nodding to Koethe.

Godwin had ordered Koethe's arrest, but circumstances had been different then. Hesitating, Nyan looked at both Montani and Koethe. A decision had to be made. "No," said Nyan at last. "I think not."

A feeling of relief flooded over Koethe.

"What?" demanded Montani. "The General gave the order, we all heard it! I won't sit still for this!"

"This is a Tier One order," countered Nyan. "You know this. It has to be put into writing. There are forms to be filled out."

Bless Nyan's pedantic nature!

"You're going to let him go because the paper work was never done? Are you crazy?" demanded Montani. "I will take this to the High Court on Vhorlend! He was the cousin of the Emperor. I will take this to the Emperor himself!"

"You are welcome to do so," said Nyan. "I will await word from the High Court. Meanwhile, as far as I'm concerned, it's
status quo
."

Montani and Nyan stared at each other a moment. Finally, she stormed off without a word.

"Thank you," said Koethe to Nyan.

"You're welcome," said Nyan. "I think as to matters on Garran, you know best. I'm content to leave you in charge."

Koethe nodded, slowly feeling the balance of order restored.