The Gods of Garran Read Online Free PDF

silently. He readied his bow.
    The band of men stopped moving, perhaps to camp for the night. Moorhen heard laughter and talking, almost raucous, as though they'd been drinking. But he doubted that expert warriors would be foolish enough to get so openly drunk in an unprotected place, even if their spirits were high because of a good hunt.
    As Moorhen peered out from a new vantage point, he froze. These men were no clansmen. They weren't even Garran--but Chanden. His heart pumped faster. What were they doing so far from any city? Men like that seldom ventured this far out, except to seek out trouble.
    They hadn't seen him. He'd make his way back to the ravine--then he could leave unseen. The Chanden were not good hunters, but their weapons were deadly.
    As Moorhen started back, he heard a cry amidst the laughter, a word or two in Garran. Moorhen turned, recognizing Norbi's voice. Quickly Moorhen climbed to a vantage point where he could see the men clearly. In their midst Moorhen saw Norbi struggling against them. Two of the Chanden men hit Norbi and kicked him. From the shape his brother was in, the Chanden must have had him for awhile.
    Moorhen's blood grew hot. Without stopping to think, he aimed his bow at the tallest man who was tormenting his brother and shot. The arrow hit and the man fell. Realizing they were not alone, the Chanden looked around.
    Moorhen shot again. Another Chanden fell.
    The men scrambled then, scattered about, unsure who was attacking them. Their reactions were slow and clumsy. Moorhen shot a third arrow, but missed. Someone pulled a Chanden laser gun and shot wildly in Moorhen's general direction. Moorhen caught his breath, suddenly realizing how mad this venture was. There were twelve of them and he was alone. He only had eleven arrows and didn't consider himself an expert marksman. But he suspected that many of the Chanden were drunk.
    Another cry came from Norbi, who lay in a heap on the ground.
    Moorhen strung his bow again and found another target. Only his brother mattered. He shot, lightly wounding another man. There were shouts now and some movement towards what Moorhen thought were rock outcroppings. Now he realized they were Chanden aircars.
    Carefully, Moorhen targeted another man and shot. Again he missed. Four or five of the Chanden ran for their vehicles. A handful of others drew their weapons. The next few of Moorhen's arrows missed.
    A sudden volley of laser fire sent Moorhen behind the rocks for cover as four of the men began shooting. Soon Moorhen realized that only two of the men had aimed anywhere near him. They had not seen him; they only guessed at the direction. Their eyes weren't good in the dark.
    Again Moorhen shot and one more Chanden fell. The next two arrows missed but now the men knew where he was. Rocks and dust flew everywhere as the blasts hit the rock-face.
    They called out to him in Chanden, a language that Moorhen rarely had a chance to speak, only in the Chanden school.
    The shooting stopped and Moorhen peered out from behind the rock, just enough to see that they had Norbi on his feet and were threatening him. One man held a gun to his head and yelled.
    "I'll kill him!" was all Moorhen understood of their slurred words. Moorhen only had one more arrow. There was no winning this battle.
    Only five of the Chanden had stayed to fight; the others had fled in aircars. Two Chanden lay on the ground, unconscious or dead. Several of them Moorhen knew to be quite drunk. Again the men yelled and hit Norbi repeatedly.
    They should pay for this. Moorhen should make them pay. He aimed for the man threatening Norbi, with as much care as he had ever aimed in his life--then shot. The arrow found its target. Then Moorhen jumped down from the rock and ran towards them with a shout, drawing his knife.
    The men dropped Norbi. Two of them fell over trying to escape. The others aimed at Moorhen with their guns at point blank range and Moorhen realized that they could not miss. The