Gods of Garran

The Gods of Garran: Chapter 28

A novel by Meredith Skye

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The last of the twilight faded into night and the others had failed to find the god-stone. Asta stood in the middle of the sand fortress and waited, nervously. She had wanted them to find the god-stone—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 god-stone as soon as Asta's group discovered it. They would attack before she 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 a terrible power grew, hidden deep beneath the earth. 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. Then they would and leave. The god-stone would remain untouched. Neither the Chanden nor the Garrans would have the weapon they sought.

Almost she had warned them—almost she had told Morrhan 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 Morrhan stood nearby, 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 now. 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 god-stone—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 such thinking was 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 god-stone. 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. Steps had been carved into the stone, barely noticeable, leading up the side.