Read Guardian of the Storm Online

Authors: Kaitlyn O'Connor

Tags: #Romance, #Science Fiction, #Futuristic romance

Guardian of the Storm (12 page)

The circuitous route took more than an hour. She stopped every few minutes to look for Kiran, peering from the cover of first one boulder and then another, but finally she was close enough to see that it didn’t just appear to have been cut from the stone, it almost certainly
had
been.

She was directly beneath the point where she’d last seen Kiran. Unless he stood on the very edge and looked straight down, he wouldn’t be able to see her now, she was certain. She moved away from the boulders and went to stand directly in front of the structure, studying it.

Ten columns were evenly spaced along the front. Above them was a stone roof facade, which seemed to support the top of the cliff. Each column was set upon a plinth, which in turn had been set upon one huge, smooth stone that formed a sort of porch. A tier of three stone steps, which ran the breadth of the structure, led up to the porch from the plateau where she was standing.

After a moment, Tempest climbed the steps, waiting at the top for her eyes to adjust to the deep gloom cast by the top of the structure. As her eyes adjusted, she realized it wasn’t simply deep shadows that made it hard to see the back edge of the porch. It dug deeply into the side of the cliff, perhaps twenty feet. In the shadowy interior perhaps halfway between the steps and the smooth wall that backed it, a misshapen mass rose from the shadows.

She moved toward it, and as she did, the shape became more apparent. It was a statue, she realized, moving closer and peering up at it. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes adjusted enough that she could see it more clearly.

It looked like a statue of her.

Startled, she took a step back, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

She almost chuckled when she realized she’d let her imagination get the best of her. The statue was most certainly of a woman, but it could have been modeled after anyone. It looked like her because she was wearing the exact garments the statue was wearing.

Obviously, this was a sacred place to both the Mordune, and the Zoeans. The Mordune had reproduced the garments of their ‘goddess’ and, apparently believing she was the physical manifestation of their goddess, dressed her accordingly.

There was a plaque near the base of the statue. Tempest crouched, studying the strange writing, but, naturally enough the writing was completely unfamiliar to her. If the Mordune and the Zoeans even had a written language now she would be surprised. It might have been written by the ancestors of either, or another tribe altogether.

She moved back a little to study the statue again. The woman was holding what appeared to be a model of Niah in the palm of one hand. A faint smile curled her lips, the sort of loving, indulgent smile a mother might bestow upon a child.

The woman’s features looked disturbingly similar to her own.

Tempest shivered and turned to glance behind her. The plateau looked almost blindingly bright now that she’d been standing in the shadows for so long. She was relieved, though, to see that she hadn’t been too preoccupied with her discoveries to lose track of time. She must have several hours left before dark.

She had to wait for her vision to adjust again when she turned away from the bright light to study the statue once more.

She could see where the Mordune, and possibly the Zoeans, had come up with the idea of their goddess. To anyone who had no idea what the statue represented, it did appear almost god-like, and the world in the palm of its hand ....

She wondered what it had been originally intended to represent. The structure itself indicated an advanced civilization, as did the plateau. It was possible the statue had only been added for the sake of beauty. Or, maybe it meant something like a global government? Trade center?

It was unfortunate she couldn’t read the plaque. She shrugged. It might be nothing more than the title of the piece or the name of the artist.

She stared at the darkness beyond, wishing she had some way to produce light. Even if it was possible to get inside, she doubted very much that she would be able to do anything but stumble around in darkness. Finally, she decided to at least examine the wall and moved around the statue. As she did, something at the statue’s ‘feet’ caught her eye and she stopped abruptly, staring at it disbelievingly.

A grat, carved of stone, in the ‘attack’ stance of the beast, had been placed at the feet of the ‘goddess’.

She looked up at the statue again, feeling coldness wash over her.

She stared at it for a good ten minutes, but absolutely no explanation came to mind.

Finally, she dismissed it. Unless she just happened to stumble across a book, written in the language of her own world, it wasn’t likely she would figure out the mystery.

Moving deeper into the shadows beyond the statue, she peered up at the wall. There were grooves carved into it, blind windows of stone complete with casements, a tremendous double ‘door’ near the center. Disappointment filled her when it occurred to her that it looked like nothing more than one giant carving.

She stopped, looking around again, wondering why anyone would build something so huge, and so elaborate, only for decoration. Maybe it was a monument? But, if so, to what? Commemorating the end of a war? Unity?

Maybe the plateau had once been the site of a city, or government center? If that was the case, though, surely there would have been ruins? She’d seen nothing but untouched rock around the edges of the plateau. Surely, even if the Niahians had carried off stones for one reason or another, perhaps to use for something they were building, there would be some traces left of other buildings?

She hadn’t really been looking for such things, she realized.

She decided, once she’d thoroughly examined the structure, she would explore the plateau more carefully.

There were more words carved in the header above the door, she saw. She moved closer, peering at them. Abruptly, a faint tremor went through the stone beneath her feet. Tempest’s heart jerked to a halt. She stopped, looking around a little wildly, wondering if the structure was about to collapse on top of her. The telltale scrape of stone against stone sent a jagged bolt of fear down her spine, made the hair on her neck stand on end. She whirled toward the sound, feeling her knees go weak.

The ‘doors’ were moving. Unable to command her feet to move in any direction, Tempest stared in horror as they moved slowly toward her, her heart hammering so hard in her chest she expected it to burst at any moment.

When they stopped, exposing a black hole, Tempest merely stared at it for some moments, too shocked even to think. Slowly, the terror subsided as her gaze flitted over the opening, studied the doors. A laugh that was part relief, part pure hysteria, erupted, and she clapped a hand to her mouth.

Weak with relief, she collapsed in a puddle, covering her mouth with both hands to muffle the laughter she couldn’t seem to control.

She’d stepped within a zone that measured motion and tripped the ancient mechanism. It was automatic doors and she’d reacted to as if she had never seen such a thing before in her life.

No wonder the natives were so fearful of the place! No wonder they thought it was ‘sacred’. To their minds it was magic.

When she was finally able to control herself once more, she pushed herself to her feet.

It was nothing short of amazing that the doors worked after all this time. She had no idea of the age of the thing, of course, but it had certainly been long enough that the Niahians had regressed and had no memory or record of it.

It was probably not at all safe to go inside. With the doors now open, a minute amount of light penetrated the interior, but it wasn’t enough for her to do much exploring. At any rate, what if the doors closed behind her? What if the mechanism on the other side didn’t work? She would be trapped.

And Kiran thought she was at the encampment. It seemed doubtful that he would think to look for her here even if he discovered she had vanished and decided to search for her.

Finally, she decided just to move a little closer. The doors had moved very slowly. If they showed any sign of trying to close, she could leap to safety, she assured herself.

As she walked slowly toward the doors, light flickered to life inside. She stopped, took a couple of steps back. The lights dimmed and went out. She moved forward again and once more the lights illuminated the interior.

Everything seemed to be keyed to movement, no doubt to preserve the power source.

She stopped on the threshold, leaning inside to peer around. Lights, recessed in the ceiling, advanced as she did, illuminating a huge room. In the center, a fountain came to life, sputtering droplets of water into the air, which fell back into a tiny pool at the base. The red dust of Niah coated everything in sight. As tightly as it had been sealed, even that hadn’t prevented the fine particles from invading.

It smelled of dust and stale air.

After a moment, Tempest stepped inside. The moment she did so, the doors began to close. Unnerved, she leapt out again. The doors paused and began to swing open. Waiting until they were fully open, she started through, again pausing on the threshold.

After moving back and forth several times, she was finally reassured that the doors would respond and moved further inside. A shiver crawled up her spine when the doors closed completely. She turned to stare at them a long moment and finally moved toward them. As she neared, the doors began to open.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned her back to the doors and began to wander around the structure. There was little to examine in the room itself. Doors had been set into the walls and lined either side, but, except for the fountain and an occasional table made of stone, there was nothing to see but dust and more dust.

After looking around, she decided to see if the doors to the rooms leading off of the great hall would open as the entrance had and moved to the nearest. Disappointment filled her when it didn’t open. She stared at it for several moments, examining it to see if there was a manual catch, but didn’t find one. Finally, she put her shoulder against it and pushed. It didn’t budge. Shrugging, she moved to the next door.

None opened, but, at the rear was another set of double doors similar to those at the entrance. At her approach, the double doors swung open and lights in the ceiling flickered to life.

It was yet another vast room, but this one was filled almost to overflowing with row after row of tall shelves. Each shelf was filled with box like objects of various sizes. Finally, she picked one up to examine it.

It wasn’t a box. It was some kind of recording device she finally decided after examining it for several moments. On the outer surface, she saw symbols similar to those she’d already seen above the entrance and on the plaque beneath the statue. The outer surface, which was hard and stiff, was attached on only one side and when she lifted it she saw that, sandwiched between the outer covering were thin sheets that looked similar to fabric. They were stiff, dry, and the edges crumbled when she touched them. They were also covered with the symbols, each, on both sides.

Frowning, she returned it to the space, moved down the shelves and removed another one.

It had to be some sort of recording devices, she decided, deeply regretful that she couldn’t decipher the symbols. It seemed odd, though, that there were nothing but these, no mechanical devices for recording their knowledge. She shrugged. That wouldn’t help her figure it out either. She didn’t know any of the languages of the Niahians—or
the
language. It seemed possible that they had more than one.

Kiran hadn’t seemed to have any difficulty understanding the Mordune, however.

After a while, she tired of looking at the recording devices. They all looked much the same to her and it wasn’t likely she would suddenly become ‘enlightened’ and able to understand what the strange symbols meant.

At the very back of the huge room, she found something that looked far more familiar to her … a computer.

* * * *

Thoughts of Tempest teased at the back of Kiran’s mind even while he went through the motions of performing the ritual as he had been taught. He struggled with the thoughts as he had each time they had risen to tease him, but he found that the more he tried to focus on banishing her from his mind, the stronger her hold on him became.

Disgusted with himself, he gritted his teeth and persevered until he had finished the chant and settled by the sacred fire again, hoping to clear his mind and open himself to the goddess. His frustration grew as the minutes ticked past and nothing was revealed to him. Desisting at last, he opened his eyes and stared angrily at the flames.

The sensuous dance of the flames at the heart of the fire conjured images of Tempest’s glossy hair, though, and did nothing to bring him peace.

He had known instinctively, he thought with disgust, that that would be the case if he kept her with him. He had managed, by dint of sheer, grim determination, to keep his body chaste—or relatively chaste, he amended—but she had wormed her way insidiously into his mind and soul. Not with evil intent, he knew, but as destructively to his cause.

He was not even certain of how she had done it. He had shielded himself from her as best he could, refused to yield to the temptation to welcome her friendliness the same as he had refused to give in to the desire that had pounded through him with increasing frequency the more time he spent in her company. His determined coolness had kept her arm’s length, made her close herself off from him, as well.

He had wanted that. He had needed that, and yet he began to realize that she had not really shielded herself from him. She had tried. He almost thought it was the struggle he saw in her face each time he rebuffed her that had slowly chipped away at his resolve. He had wounded her, over and over, with his reserve. He had seen it in her face, and each time he did, it drove a deeper wound into him, crumbled a little more of his resolve until she had slipped deeper and deeper inside of him, found a place where he could not dislodge her.

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