“Behold,” Sylvan said quietly. “The holy mountain of the Mother of All Life.”
It was indeed a mountain, and not a flat topped mesa like the rest of the towering landmasses that dotted the desert. The peak of it was incredibly high but Nadia couldn’t see its tip—clouds, the only clouds she had seen in the otherwise clear sky—shielded it from view.
The rest of the holy mountain was bare of vegetation and seemed to be almost perfectly cylindrical with one exception. Jutting out from the side of it, about three fourths of the way up its cone, Nadiah saw a large outcropping covered in green and purple vegetation.
“The Healing Garden,” Sylvan murmured in a low voice. “I thought it was part of the legends but it exists—it really exists.”
“What? Where?” Rast turned to look at him and the desperation and pain in his truegreen eyes hurt Nadiah’s heart. She wanted to hold his hand, to tell him she loved him and that everything would be all right. But he was walking ahead of her, beside Sylvan and she couldn’t reach him. “There’s a garden that heals people?” he asked her kinsman. “Where?”
Sylvan gestured at the outcropping covered in lush foliage. “There, I think. It’s said that the Goddess walks there at certain times of the day. A drink from the fountain of the Healing Garden was said to cure any illness, no matter how severe.”
“Then let’s go! Right now!” Rast started to speed up from a walk to a jog but Sylvan caught his arm.
“Slow down, Brother. The whole thing may be just a myth—wishful thinking out of one of the old legends. And even if it’s true, we can’t reach it.”
“What? Why not?” Rast demanded.
“Because,” Sylvan said simply. “According to the legends, the only way to reach the Healing Garden is to fly there.”
“Again with the flying people.” Rast grimaced as if in pain and reached behind himself to scratch his back. “Damn it—I think I must be allergic to something in this damn place. My back is itching like crazy. It hasn’t itched this much since you injected me with that hemo-booster.”
“Is that right?” Sylvan looked thoughtful.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Rast sighed and appeared to decide to ignore his discomfort. “How do you think that priestess disappeared like that? We’re still at least a mile from the mountain. Either she’s a really fast runner or—”
“It was a projection of her mind.” The new voice startled them all—Nadiah so much that she almost fell off her stretcher. Standing beside them was another, much younger looking priestess with more normal looking eyes. The irises were still a brilliant jade green but the whites of her eyes were normal and she had pupils which made her look less like a living statue. She was barefoot and wearing a simple white robe. Dark blonde hair, streaked with jade green, fell straight to the small of her back.
“Uh, who are you?” Sophia asked.
“And why do people keep popping up out of this damn desert?” Rast growled. “It’s goddamn unnerving.”
“I am Lissa, secondary priestess and a sand mover of the first order.” The girl bowed. “Forgive me for startling you, but I heard one of your party was ill and thought you might like a ride to the mountain.”
“Oh, we’d love a ride.” Sophia nodded eagerly and then looked uncertainly at the priestess who was simply standing there. “Uh, where’s your vehicle?”
“This is my vehicle.” Lissa raised her hands and the sand around them suddenly firmed and lifted like a cresting wave.
“What in the seven hells?” Sylvan muttered, nearly losing his balance as the wave of sand started moving forward toward the mountain. He looked at Lissa. “How are you able to do this, Priestess?”
“Living so near the holy mountain enhances out natural gifts,” the young priestess explained. “I am genetically endowed with my ability and being near the Goddess increases it.”
“I have heard of such things,” Sylvan murmured. “But I thought they were simply old legends.”
Lissa laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that Nadiah liked at once. It sounded like small silver bells ringing. “There is more truth in the old legends than most people know, Warrior. You will see.”
“Speaking of old legends, tell us about the Healing Garden,” Rast said. “Is it true it heals anyone of anything? And how do you get to it?”
Lissa frowned. “I have been forbidden to speak of such things. And there is no time now, anyway. Look—the mountain approaches.”
So smoothly did the wave of sand carry them, that it almost did seem as if the holy mountain was approaching them instead of the other way around. Nadiah saw that they were about to enter a high, arching entrance carved into the stone and that they were going much faster than she had at first perceived. She ducked her head reflexively as the sand wave rushed at the side of the mountain, but it set them down gently enough just inside the entry.
“Here I may not use my power,” Lissa told them. “So we must go on foot. The High Priestess of the Empty Throne has summoned you all to a council in two standard hours time. This will give you time to rest, refresh yourselves, and change into proper attire. Come.”
Rast didn’t look very happy about the idea of changing into “proper” attire but he kept silent as they all followed the slender form of the young priestess down a series of twisting tunnels into the heart of the mountain.
Finally they came out of the dark tunnel into an oasis of light.
All of them blinked, trying to adjust to the brilliant sunshine after the gloom. Nadiah’s eyes watered fiercely at the sudden change. They adjusted quickly, however, and when she looked around, she saw that the place Lissa had brought them really did look like an oasis.
They appeared to be in a sort of hollow crater in the side of the mountain which hadn’t been visible to them from outside the sacred spot. There was a rippling blue-green pool in the center of the space edged all around with rainbow sand which stretched several yards in all directions. A grove of slender grey-green trees with pale lavender-grey leaves surrounded the sand. White material had been hung from their branches and it flapped and fluttered in the soft breeze. At one end of the little pool, someone had laid out a wooden table with food and drink on a white cloth.
“Rest and take sustenance,” Lissa said, smiling graciously. “Bathe yourselves in the purifying waters and dress in the garments which have been provided for you.” She pointed at the white material hanging from the trees. “I will return at the appointed hour to bring you to the temple of the Empty Throne.”
“Hey, don’t go,” Rast said when she started to leave. “We have questions—a hell of a lot of questions.”
“All will be answered at the council.” Lissa smiled again and nodded. “Goodbye—for the moment.”
And before Rast could protest further, she’d somehow melted into the surrounding hedge of trees and left them to their own devices.
There was nothing to do but follow the priestess’s orders. Nadia didn’t mind so much. She and Sophia took a quick bath in the cool waters of the pool while Sylvan and Rast kept their backs turned. At the silky, healing touch of the sacred water, Nadiah found herself refreshed and much more clearheaded. Finally, the last cobwebs of the fever were swept away and she began to understand what had happened.
“The High Priestess of the Empty Throne—she’s the one who caused me to have the al’lei, isn’t she?” she asked Sophia softly as they splashed in the water.
Sophia nodded. “I think so, hon. That’s what she claimed.”
“And she also made me sick.” Nadiah could still feel the sickness inside her—like a hand closed tight. But soon the fingers would open, releasing the fever once more.
“In order to bring Rast here, yes.” Sophia nodded again. “She said he could, uh, heal you.”
“But how?” They were out of the water now and drying off, keeping their backs to the pool so the males could bathe in privacy. “How can he heal me?”
“I don’t know, Nadiah,” Sophia confessed. Her green eyes
were troubled. “I really don’t. Here—put this on.” She handed Nadiah a long white robe which looked exactly like the one the priestess, Lissa, had been wearing. Nadiah thought of telling her tharp to emulate one but she had an idea the high priestess would know and become angry. Still, she was reluctant to be parted from her faithful garment completely. Whispering a command to it, she made it change into a pale blue sash which she wrapped around her waist. “There.” She sighed. “I guess I’m ready to go.”
“Then let’s get something to eat,” Sophia suggested. “Hey, Sylvan,” she called. “Can we turn around now? Are you guys decent?”
“If you call this decent,” Rast growled.
Nadiah turned around to see him and caught her breath. “Oh, Rast…”
Sophia laughed delightedly and ran to Sylvan. “You look like you stepped right out of a movie about the Greek gods.”
“Yeah,” Rast muttered. “Either that or a toga party. Why is it that everywhere I go outside of Earth I always end up wearing a skirt or a dress?”
He and Sylvan were both wearing the same kind of robes she and Sophia were, light, white material with no sleeves which gathered at the waist and then fell to the ankles. On them, however, the robes somehow looked masculine. But there was something about the robe Rast wore which bothered Nadiah.
“This is how I first saw you,” she said, stepping forward to take his hands. Her ankle turned in the loose sand and she nearly fell but Rast caught her. It was a good thing because she wouldn’t have had the strength to catch herself. The fever. It’s inside me, waiting to get out, she thought. Making me weak and clumsy.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, when he had one arm firmly around her waist, supporting her. “I’ve never worn anything like this before in my life. Not even in my drunken college days.”
“But I saw you,” Nadiah insisted. “In the vision I had right before Sophia and Sylvan’s joining ceremony. I saw you as you are now, wearing the white robes of a supplicant and standing in the temple of the Goddess. That was why I was so sure you were Kindred at first.”
Rast sighed. “Well, you turned out to be right about that. Could you see anything else in your vision?”
Nadiah shook her head. “If I did I don’t remember. But I do have a very strong feeling you belong here. This is the right place for you, Rast. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it is.”
“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” He shook his head. “But it sure doesn’t feel right.”
“Who’s hungry?” Sylvan asked. He had gone to stand beside the small table and was looking down at the food which had been provided.
“I am,” Nadiah said, and was surprised to find it was true. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a month.”
“You look like you haven’t either.” Rast frowned and ran a finger along her collarbone. “That damn fever—burning you up from the inside out.”
“I feel better now.” She tried to speak brightly. After all, it was almost the truth.
“You’re not, though.” Rast looked worried. “Not yet. But you will be—I swear you will be no matter what I have to do to make it happen, sweetheart.”
“I think we’ll learn more about that in the temple,” Sylvan said mildly. “In the mean time, we’d better get something while we can. I know all of us were too worried to eat earlier.”
Nadiah was touched. “You shouldn’t have put off eating just for me. Come on, Rast.” She tugged at his arm. “I really am hungry.”
He sighed. “All right. As long as it’s not steamed brains or worm guts.”
“I thought you liked my steamed vorteg brains,” Nadiah protested. “You said they were the best you’d ever eaten.”
“They were,” Rast assured her. “But to tell you the truth, sweetheart, I don’t usually eat brains.”
Sophia smothered a laugh. “I get the feeling Rast isn’t much into haute cuisine.”
“You got that right,” he growled.
“Very funny, Rast.” Nadiah decided to let it drop although she promised herself to grill him later on what he really liked to eat. If there was a later. In the mean time, they gathered around the table which was laid with a simple white cloth and rough wooden bowls filled with what looked like tiny loaves of bread.
“Not much for variety, are they?” Rast murmured, looking at the nearly identical loaves. “Oh well, we didn’t come here for the dinner service anyway.”
“I think they look good. Better than fleeta pudding, anyway—no offence, guys,” Sophia added to Nadiah and Sylvan. “Well, here goes nothing.” She picked up a small loaf and took a bite. A strange look passed over her face. “Mmm! Tastes like…like tomato soup. And…and a grilled cheese sandwich.” She took another bite. “And now it tastes like lime Jello.” She frowned. “That’s so weird—that was my favorite meal when I was a little kid.”
“Really?” Rast picked up a loaf of bread no longer than his palm and bit off the end. “Cheeseburger,” he said, frowning. “With extra ketchup. And fries…and a chocolate shake.” His eyes widened. “My sister used to take me out on Thursday nights when our parents were working late that that was what I always got.” He looked at the bread with wonder. “How does it do that?”
“It’s like some kind of Willy Wonka mind-reading bread or something.” Sophia took another bite and handed a tiny loaf to Nadiah. “Try it!”
Nadiah took a bite and her mouth was suddenly flooded with the tastes of her childhood. “Malabar pudding,” she said. “And roast rump of vranna and tsitle berry juice.”
Sylvan nodded, “I got the same except for malabar pudding—I always hated that.”
They were so engrossed in the strange bread, which tasted different to each to them, that none of them noticed that the young priestess, Lissa, had returned until she cleared her throat.
“Oh, hello,” Sophia exclaimed, turning to see her. “We didn’t even see you there. This bread is amazing. How do you make it?”
“I am glad you enjoy it.” Lissa nodded gracefully. “However, we have no time to tell you the secrets of our baking now. It is time—you are summoned to the temple.”
“Oh.” For some reason, Nadiah’s mouth was suddenly dry. She swallowed hard and the last bite of bread went down her throat in a tasteless lump.
Rast didn’t look happy about it either. “Come on,” he said roughly. “Let’s go. Might as well get it over with.”
As they followed the young priestess out of the oasis of light and back into a tunnel filled with darkness, Nadiah felt a growing sense of unease. Somehow she knew something was going to happen once they reached the temple of the Empty Throne. And not necessarily something good.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The temple of the Empty Throne was located inside the mountain, in a vast cavern that made the huge grotto Rast had seen on Tranq Prime look small. But it wasn’t dark or gloomy. Someone had drilled deep holes in the side of the mountain to let in the sunlight. Pale green shafts of light pierced the cavern, making mystical patterns on the sandy floor that led to the graceful white marble structure of the temple.
Tall, slender white pillars supported the roof of the temple and hundreds of white stone steps led upwards to a high, flat platform. Far back on the platform was another, smaller one—a dais with additional steps leading up to it. Sitting on the dais was a solid white marble chair with gold and silver lines running through it. The Empty Throne.
Even seeing it from a distance, the weird stone throne sent a shiver down Rast’s back. It had an aura of power around it that seemed to radiate outwards and fill the entire huge space with a soft humming sound that was almost too low to hear. Like a generator, Rast thought. Only he had an idea that this particular generator could be dangerous—very damn dangerous indeed to the wrong person.
The throne’s hum had a strange effect on him. His shoulder blades started itching again and every muscle in his body tensed, as though he was getting ready for a confrontation. But then the high pr
iestess appeared again at the top of the stairs and everything else was driven out of his mind.
“You have come.” Her voice tolled like a bell in the huge, echoing space and Rast thought she had a look of smug self satisfaction as she looked down, surveying them from the top step. Behind her, a group of younger priestesses stood silently, all dressed in white with green sashes tied around their slender waists.
“You didn’t give us much choice,” he snapped, frowning. “So here we are. Now tell us what this is all about. What was so important that you had to make Nadiah sick and force me to come here?”
The high priestess frowned. “A little respect, if you please, Adam Rast. You may be the one the prophecy speaks of but you are still addressing one chosen of the Goddess.” She made a grand sweeping gesture with both hands. “Come up. You may all approach the throne but do not touch it on peril of your lives—even the one we seek if he is not ready to be found.”