The Gods of Garran (16 page)

The last of the twilight faded into night and the others had failed to find the godstone. Asta stood in the middle of the sand fortress and waited, nervously. She had wanted them to find the godstone--but now, standing in its resting place, she no longer felt certain.

There was no question in Asta's mind that they were being followed by the Agency who planned to take the godstone as soon as Asta's group discovered it. They would attack before Asta and the others could leave the valley. But this tale could never be told--so those involved, except herself, would have to be silenced.

If Ruben Drake led them, then she knew what he'd do. He'd kill a few Garrans before risking harm to his mission. He'd lie and say they fought back. At best, he'd arrest the Garrans and question them. Then, they would never be set free. They could be sent to a prison mining-camp.

But hidden deep beneath the earth, grew a terrible power. She felt it--violent and angry. Partly asleep. The tendrils of its thought reached out for Asta but she closed her mind to it.

She watched the others search and willed them not to find it--and they didn't. She kept her mind blank, hoping to evade the power beneath them. They would fail to find it and they would leave. The godstone would remain untouched. Neither the Chanden nor the Garrans would have the weapon they sought.

Almost she had warned them--almost she had told Moorhen that their lives were in danger--but then they'd know her for a spy, for a Chanden--and her sense of self-preservation outweighed her desire to do good. Now it was too late to warn them. Too late to make any confession--only to hope for failure. Only this could save them. Then at night, she'd slip out of their camp and go to the Chanden. They could take her safely back home. Asta vowed she'd go no further on this journey.

And always nearby stood Moorhen, worried about her. Wanting to say something to her. Maybe she enjoyed the kiss; maybe she would like to hear what he wanted to tell her. But none of that mattered. Things were too serious. It would better if she never saw him again.

The others gathered again in the center of the fortress and looked at her.

"Where is it, Asta?" asked Sindke.

"I don't know," she said. A half-truth. Sindke studied her in that piercing, annoying way that she had of looking through a person. "It's not here," insisted Asta. "We've failed." This was a lie. She felt an urgency to be gone from this place.

"You directed us here," said Sindke, quietly.

"I was wrong! I'm sorry." The old woman did not believe her and continued to stare at her as though doing so would somehow force the truth from Asta. "We should be going," said Asta. "This place isn't safe."

"From what?" persisted Sindke.

The power deep beneath the earth's surface had been awakened. Asta heard the rumblings. Maybe there was another fear that haunted her. Perhaps it was a fear that the legends were true and that if she took the godstone--it would know her for what she was--a fraud. The
volcanoes would erupt and destroy them all--if the gods really could discern the heart.

But she was thinking nonsense.

Asta wanted to lead the way out of the sand fortress but something held her rooted where she stood. She fought a wave of dizziness. The power beneath the earth merely protected another even greater power. She could feel it very near--the godstone. It spoke without words to her mind--the source of the dream that she could never quite remember. Secrets of great importance lingered just out of reach.

She fought to stay lucid.

The power of the stone drew Asta's mind. She cast her gaze on the stone tower that stood in front of her. Its surface was jagged and broken, as all of them were. Now that she looked at it, she notice that the rocky surface held a pattern. In the stone there were steps, barely noticeable, that led up the side of the tower.

Sindke noticed her gaze and followed it to the tower. She took a step towards it, her eyes widening a little. The others began looking at the tower and still hadn't seen the stairs yet. "Why do you hesitate?" asked Sindke. "Take the stone."

Take the stone.
Asta froze, overwhelmed by conflicting feelings. If she took it, people would die. Finding it might even start a war.

If she didn't take the stone, the Chanden might find it anyway. They were watching. They would tear the place apart looking for it, disrupting the peace of this place--angering the power that lay beneath it.

Or someone else might take the stone; one of the Garrans. Asta saw Jarvaine take a few steps towards the tower. She felt protective. If anyone took it, it should be her.

But there was something else, something deeper, about the stone. It held the answers to questions that Asta didn't fully understand. She could hear the music in the distance, on the edges of her awareness--beckoning her.

The stone had to be found. She felt dizzy.

Suddenly, Asta found herself on the stairway, ascending upward. She stopped, surprised. She'd lost time again, as if sleepwalking. It was the power of the stone over her, this close. And the power frightened her.

Her heart raced. Would it consume her? Destroy her and take over her mind? Appalled, she looked at the narrow stairway, considering going back down. Down below she saw Moorhen watching her with concern. Jarvaine stood at the bottom of the stairway.

But the Agency wanted the stone. What would they do if she failed to get it? What would she tell Ruben? Would it end her career in the Stealth Unit? She'd come so far to fail only now.

Another wave of dizziness passed over her but it didn't cause her to lose her footing. The whole cavern seemed to be throbbing.

"The stone!" shouted Moorhen. "Get the stone!"

Again she sensed the distant music, accompanied by dizziness.

Now, Asta stood at the top of the tower. She stepped inside. Here was a small chamber. On a pedestal in the center of the chamber, lay an exquisite white stone.

The godstone.

The air felt electric and the moon reflected off the stone giving a small aura to the room. Here the dream-song came to Asta's mind again, almost understandable.

All of the arguments in her head became muddled and muted in the presence of the stone. A great feeling of calm flooded over her. Entranced, she moved forward until her hand lay on the stone.

It had a single rune on it--the rune for Innurlan, which also meant 'wind.'

It felt warm to the touch--and Asta was sure that she felt it move. The warmth passed from the stone, up her arm and throughout her entire body. Asta's head buzzed. Her ears rang, accompanied by another wave of dizziness. Knowledge burst forth through Asta's mind--visions of the past, people, faces, circumstances, purposes, failures. These things mixed with the knowledge Asta's mind held--the Chanden, their plans, the Agency, her father, all that was Asta.

The flood of knowledge threatened to drown Asta. She fought to stay conscious. But it was more than that. Something touched her mind, passing into it.

Asta learned something else too--that there was more than one godstone.

She sensed a deep anger in the air. The room rumbled and whirled around her. The spells of dizziness nearly knocked Asta off her feet. In fact, she felt the physical world slip away and come back. She found herself on her knees with the stone in her hand. She had taken it from the pedestal.

Asta trembled, unable to stand. The room felt unstable, as though it were moving. A presence moved through her mind, searching it, sifting through her memories. She called out, unable to stop the storm of visions opening upon her mind, unable to make sense of them in so quick a time.

Was her mind merging with the godstone?

Then someone was standing over her, shouting at her. "We have to go, Asta!" Moorhen knelt at her side, taking her arm. "Now!"

She looked at him, only half hearing him. Not sure exactly what he meant.

"You've woken the mountain, Asta. This place won't last long," he said and helped her to her feet. She realized the floor
was
moving. Moorhen half dragged, half-carried Asta to the stairs. Then she regained enough of her wits to stumble down the stairs with Moorhen behind her, pushing her along. "Hurry!"

They arrived at the bottom. Part of the sand fortress had already collapsed, debris crashed down around them.

"I have the stone," said Asta holding it up.

The others stared at it, awed. "We must go," said Sindke.

Asta nodded and packed the stone in a cloth, shoving it in her pouch.

"Is she all right?" asked Moorhen to Sindke. "Is it not dangerous for her to carry?"

But there wasn't time. They ran down the stone corridor. Around them the ground rumbled and shook, like an earthquake. The towers began to fall all around them.

They arrived at the front and found their animals dead. The young girl lay with her face in the sand--either dead or unconscious. A group of about eighteen Chanden agents faced them. There in the front stood Ruben, his long blond hair held in place by a headband. He dressed all in native Garran clothes, as did half of the others. The rest were regular Enforcers from Urrlan.

"Drop your weapons," said Ruben, aiming his laser at the group.

The Agency. They'd come.

Asta's mind felt slow, like a computer laboring with too much information.

Would they kill Asta along with the others and take the stone? The truth was--she didn't want to give it up to them. Not to the Chanden, not the Garrans--not to anyone.

Moorhen stared at his sister's body in disbelief. Asta felt his deep grief. An anger overcame Asta--anger at the blood carelessly spilt by these greedy bureaucrats who cared for nothing but power.

"You bastards!" shouted Draiha. She pulled out her bow to shoot, but one of the Chanden shot her down.

A furious wave of anger rose in Asta, and the ringing in her head returned. Things faded into white momentarily and she lost her footing. The next thing she knew, she was laying on the ground.

Moorhen grabbed her arm and got her to her feet. "Come on!"

"What--?" she tried to ask, but her head hurt.

"Let's go!" Yellow and red light lit the night landscape. The volcano erupted. Lava poured out of the top of the mountain, but also from the side and from patches at its base. A loud crack sounded and the ground shook again. The ground cracked and split between them and the Agency men. Quickly the gap widened.

Moorhen jerked her around and pulled her back into the ruins, where Sindke and the others were already headed. Asta glanced back at the Chanden--they were too preoccupied to shoot and unable to follow. At this, she felt satisfaction.

"How did they know?" asked Jarvaine. "The Chanden."

"I don't know," said Sindke.

What had happened? Something had changed. Asta felt her own identity slipping away. Her mind was scattered, patchy, she couldn't hold her thoughts. Flashes of anger took her--whether her own anger of the anger of the godstone, she couldn't tell.

She felt a constant searing pain in her mind, as a foreign consciousness invaded her memories and trying to merge with her. Anger, disapproval.

Guilt over the murder of Jaynanth threatened to overwhelm her--guilt for all that the Chanden had done--for what they were planning to do; guilt for planning to steal the godstone. All this added to the pain in her head.

Chunks of time were unaccounted for. Her conscious mind felt interrupted, only to reemerge later--as though she'd fallen asleep while walking.

Voices spoke in Asta's head that she couldn't quite make out. The godstone had done something to her--continued to do something to her.

As they made their way around the far side of the mountain, Asta stopped. Before the others could stop her, she pulled the stone out of the pouch and threw it down the mountainside, hoping for freedom from the confusion.

Sindke cried out--but too late. The stone fell down 30 maybe 40 feet and landed on a ledge. They all stared at her in horror.

Pain hit Asta like a dagger and she buckled over, unable to breathe.

"Asta!" shouted Moorhen, suddenly at her side. "What's wrong with her?"

Sindke drew nearer. "The godstone has bonded with her. She needs the stone now."

Asta cried out from the unbearable pain. She became less aware of their conversation. But she knew that someone had climbed down after the stone. The absence of the stone
weighed on her, like part of her had been torn from her. She felt like half a person--incapacitated.

More talking. Some movement.

"Here," said Moorhen, and thrusting the warm stone into her hand. Order returned. She had the godstone. Her thoughts realigned. The pain receded leaving a pounding headache, dizziness and a ringing in her ears, but she could cope with that. She clutched the stone as it breathed life back into her. Then she put it back in her pouch. Shakily, she stood.

"Is she all right?" asked Moorhen, he let her take his arm, helped steady her. She accepted it.

Sindke studied her silently. "We shall see." They continued their journey.