The Gods of Garran by Meredith Skye Read Free Book Online

disgrace. It's wrong. There must be an end to it. Better that it be a brave end!"
    "Hear! hear!" said Channik in agreement.
    The others nodded in assent. Moorhen felt cold. Was this a suicide attack? Did they not mean to return but to throw their lives away in some sort of protest?
    "You, Moorhen, had better beware of my wrath. I won't have you speaking against me behind my back."
    "Father, I--"
    "Shut up! I've heard enough from you." His father glared at him.
    Moorhen stopped arguing and his father strode off. The others stared at Moorhen without speaking to him, then gradually went on about their business of setting up the camp, avoiding him. Discouraged, Moorhen walked out towards the stream.
    No matter what Moorhen did, his father disapproved of him. Maybe he was wrong to question his father's plan, but it seemed a bad idea to him. Everyone else seemed to be behind him, except in the matter of the alliance with the Upper Steppe Clan.
    Moorhen sat on a rock, gazing on the water; the reflection of the moon shimmered, as though laughing at him. A small sound behind him startled him and Moorhen realized his foolishness in coming out from the camp. There were shing-lizards , zemandre , and other creatures of the night. He still hadn't fully healed from the sechule attack. He knew what his father would say about his foolishness.
    As he whirled to meet his enemy, Moorhen remembered to draw his blade.
    There on the path stood a girl with sword drawn--a short sword. It was his younger sister Crysethe. She wore her leather hunting jacket and carried a sword she'd borrowed, that was slightly too large for her. Her hair was pulled back like a boy's, with her bow over her back.
    "Crysethe?" demanded Moorhen in a whisper, not wanting to alert the camp. "What are you doing here?"
    Crysethe put her sword away and Moorhen sheathed his dagger. "Father told you to stay behind!" he accused her.
    "I wanted to come," she replied haughtily, reminding him of Draiha.
    Moorhen thought back to the suicidal plan his father had and groaned. "You should go back home, at once!" Still he whispered.
    "No," she said, unwavering. "I'm a warrior."
    She must have been trailing them all day. Who knew what dangers lurked out there now--she couldn't go back, not alone. And they'd consider him a coward if he offered to take her. Father had to be told; there was nothing else to do.
    "Come on," he said glumly and led her back to camp. They got quite a few stares and whispers as he brought her to Ashtan, who sat eating with some of the older ones.
    "Father," said Moorhen, seeking his attention.
    Ashtan turned his attention to Moorhen and saw Crysethe. He scowled. "What is this? Does no one follow my orders? She was to stay at the tsirvak !" This accusation was pointed at Moorhen, who was in no way responsible for the actions of his little sister. Surely his father didn't blame him for this as well?
    "She must have followed us. I …" Moorhen's excuses sounded lame and he failed to give them. It wasn't his fault. Ashtan stood and pushed Moorhen out of the way, none too gently, and went to Crysethe.
    "Child," he said to her, more gently. "Why have you come?"
    "To fight beside you, father," she said with all earnestness. At this Ashtan didn't reply, but smiled a little.
    "Very well," he said. "If that is your desire." He led her over to where he had been eating. "Get the young one some food."
    Mirrhia motioned Crysethe to sit beside her. "Come here, child."
    Moorhen stared at them, incredulous. He wouldn't take her with them, would he? To death and destruction? Or did Ashtan truly have some plan to succeed? Quietly Moorhen moved away to his side of the camp.
    "You let her come along?" whispered Draiha, angry.
    "Not me!" he hissed. "I didn't--" Draiha turned and walked away in disgust. Moorhen fought the urge to follow her and argue. Instead he sat down, threw his cloak around himself and tried to sleep.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The clear gray eyes stared at Asta. The old