In the Shadow of the Goddess (Book 1 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER FOUR

All things considered, I'm handling this remarkably well, Jill decided. No panic. No tears. No fainting. Simply fantastic.

Of course, that could only be considered true if she discounted the silent bouts of hysterical laughter threatening to erupt out of her mouth. Also, she had to ignore the looming anxiety churning her stomach. It kept prompting unanswerable questions like: "Where am I?" and "Why are my dreams suddenly true?", or "How do I know what's real and what isn't?" Worst of all: "How am I supposed to get home again?" paired with "Do I even want to?" At least her earlier tingling had faded until she was able to push it to the back of her mind. It made her think of a match—burning brightly at the initial strike, but dying slowly as time passed. Now, it simmered gently as if reluctant to do more. Or did it just wait for an opportunity to flare up again? Jill gritted her teeth. I sincerely hope not.

She said nothing of this to Brexten as they walked—which was probably just as well. He didn't seem inclined to talk. And given all that had happened, Jill was glad for the silence. It gave her a moment to sort things out in her head. She had no idea why she'd been sent through a portal. 'Summons,' Kachine had said. What summons was the woman—no, the goddess—referring to? And that was something else: goddess? She was in a world with goddesses? Boarding school had not prepared her for this.

She studied Brexten as he walked on ahead. His head seemed to be in constant motion, darting about to take in every detail. With his hunched shoulders, stiff posture, and arms rigid at his sides, he held himself as if he were trying to keep from flinching. Was he agoraphobic and terrified of open spaces? Or was it that he'd been in the Maze so long, being outside it put him on edge? Not that she'd truly doubted him—given his ragged appearance—but she could clearly see his earlier words were genuine: he really had been a prisoner in the Maze. The experience had wreaked havoc on his body and probably his mind as well. What kind of man was she dealing with then? He claimed to be a prince, but...I'll believe it when I see it.

Then, the landscape started to change. Dramatically.

When that first green stem forced its way through the desert sand, they'd watched with interest. It seemed a unique aberration which to be studied with surprise. But now...Now the novelty faded, leaving Jill feeling edgy.

The desert transformed with eerie silence. Under the sun, plants sprouted from the arid ground with impossible speed. And with the rapid growth, it seemed that all the sound had been stolen from the world. Even she and Brexten were caught up in it, unable to remark on what happened around them. Only by looks or touches could they draw each other's attention to something. It felt as if they were being woven into something—a pattern, a tapestry, a shaping of the landscape—and had to abide by its wishes. And if the design wanted silence to concentrate on growing, neither she nor Brexten could fight against it.

First, and worst, were the trees.

Without warning, a maple tree literally exploded—silently—from the ground right at their feet, shooting up dangerously quick and scattering debris in all directions. She and Brexten were both thrown clear and lay back helplessly to watch the tree grow—ten feet, twenty, fifty in a matter of seconds. More trees followed with only a slight ground tremble warning them to beware. They found themselves leaping, jumping, scurrying out of the way as hundreds, if not thousands, of trees grew. Pine, maple, birch—more trees than Jill knew names for—towered all around them.

Once the trees were finished, the rest seemed easy in comparison. Flowers bloomed into a sea of colors and tree buds popped into leaves. In what seemed like no time, they walked on a lush carpet of deep, fragrant grass. It bent under their feet, then sprang back fuller than before as they passed. Vines slithered into being and moss scattered itself gently across trees and rocks. And as the leaves lifted themselves to the sun, the sky became a canopy of green that filtered down exotic displays of light and shadow. No animals or insects interrupted the quiet. Not even the wind through the leaves made a sound. As she and Brexten walked, now following a stream birthed from scrapes in the dust, the forest continued its growth. It pushed outward, spreading further than they could possibly walk in a day, or two.