God Stones: Books 1 - 3

by Otto Schafer

  “Yes, and I still would gain much satisfaction in listening to your leg bones fracture.”

  David stopped chewing and swallowed hard.

  “I suppose next you will desire sleeping quarters,” Governess said, waving her glowing hand again.

  On the opposite side from the fruit plot and the water pool, the wall’s diamond patterns twisted and grew. Only a few feet above the floor formed structures that reminded Garrett of large cocoons woven in the same wicker style as the floor. Only these cocoons were open in the front. Inside, the wicker cocoons quickly filled with a layer of thick moss as fine vines braided themselves into blankets to cover each bed.

  “Now, will there be anything else?”

  No one spoke.

  “Superb. I will check in on you daily to make sure your needs are met.” She left the cage, but she didn’t walk back across the braided branch to the other tree. Instead, a small platform of wood, just large enough for her to stand on, grew from the top of the cage. Garrett watched as Governess stepped onto the platform and her feet rooted in place.

  The boys picked items from the vines and drank from the small pool.

  “Should have asked for a hot shower,” Lenny said.

  “Should have asked for steak or bacon. All we got are vegetables, nuts, and fruit!” David complained.

  “Seriously?” Pete asked. “You’re going to complain about the prison food?”

  Garrett bit into one of the purplish, baseball-sized objects and decided it was fruit, though it had a flavor he had never tasted before. He settled back against the wall of their prison and opened Coach’s journal.

  I spent the last two years in Petersburg working as a gym teacher at your high school while trying to untangle the mystery and understand my part. It didn’t take long to discover that Garrett had been born and was your age. This further supported my theory that Turek had a hand in this from your conception. I can only assume Turek plans to let Apep open the portal. Although, I admit, I don’t know to what end. Even in all my time with him, he never told me his ultimate plan, only that his descendant would put right a horrible wrong. I know enough of the prophecy to know Garrett is supposed to die and then be reborn. But I don’t understand what he wants from me. Am I to help him? Help you? But if so, how? If I am to do nothing, then why am I here at all?

  I have been on this planet for thousands of years. There is nothing left on Karelia for me. My father will be long dead. For all I know, my kingdom may be destroyed. And if Osonian somehow survived the last thirteen thousand years without their God Stone, my bloodline will be dead and our kingdom will be under someone else’s control. The only choice I have left is to go to the temple and face my brother. Maybe I can save Garrett from the worst of it. Maybe I can keep him alive, but if not, at the very least I have to stop my brother from killing you and the other sages. Turek has to want me there! Why else would he have brought me here? Why else would he have brought you here?

  Lennard Wade, my son, I will do whatever I can to save you and the others. I hope to tell you all this in person tomorrow after the battle is over. But if I should die, I will ensure this journal finds you.

  Garrett slammed the journal shut and blinked. He felt like he’d been asked to retrieve his mom’s purse and peeked inside when no one was looking, only to see something he had no business seeing. Only this was way worse. He lifted his head and looked at Lenny. Lenny, his best friend in the world. Lenny, adopted by members of the Keepers of the Light when he was a baby and sent to live in Petersburg, where he was trained in secret just like Garrett. Lenny, the half-dökkálfar son of Prince Syldan. Lenny, heir to the throne of Osonian? Garrett thought he might be sick.

  Garrett knew he should just pull Lenny off to the side and tell him what he’d learned. It was wrong not to tell his best friend. So why the hesitation? He knew why, selfish as it was. Garrett was afraid – not for himself, but for Lenny. He was afraid Lenny wouldn’t take it well. And why was that selfish? Because Garrett needed him to be okay, as okay as anyone could be, given the circumstances. Lenny wasn’t only his best friend, he was the most solid person in this group. Pete had lost his mom. Paul had lost his brother. David… well, David was amazing, but he was scared shitless most of the time and unconscious the rest. Lenny, on the other hand, he could count on to be the rock he so desperately needed right now. But he had to tell him. It was wrong to keep this from him.

  Somehow, as one day turned into the next and the next, Garrett failed to find the words. Maybe he should have just handed him the damn journal and said, “You need to read this, Len.” But he couldn’t even bring himself to do that.

  Garrett kept telling himself he just needed to find the right time, but each day felt worse and worse. On the sixth day, he sat staring across the prison, looking at Lenny.

  “You look like you’re going to hurl,” Lenny said. He had his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he moved his fingers down the neck of an imaginary guitar. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a guitar right now! This place sucks! If we get out of this alive, the first thing I’m doing is ransacking a music store. An acoustic doesn’t weigh that much. I should have brought one along.”

  “We need to talk, Len,” Garrett said, swallowing as his mouth became suddenly dry.

  “I know, Garrett, but it’s just a guitar. I won’t let it slow us down, and I can rig it so I can carry both the staff and the guitar strapped on my pack. Assuming, of course, I ever get my staff back from that rotten—”

  “It’s not about the guitar, Len.”

  Lenny frowned. “Sure, what’s up? You think of a way out of this?”

  “No. I, um, finished reading Coach’s journal and—”

  “Guys,” David said, holding something in one hand while he rubbed his leg with the other. For the past several days, he had been rubbing that damn leg like he had poison ivy. “Do you guys hear those voices?”

  “Huh?” Pete said. “All I hear is that incessant creaking and cracking of the trees.”

  “Yeah, I don’t hear anything,” Lenny said.

  “Listen, guys. Really listen,” David said. He made his voice deeper, like Pete had when he did Lincoln’s voice. “Adjust course south three spans. The river is shallower and easier to cross.”

  “Oh shit, David finally cracked. I knew it would come to this, but I hoped he’d hang on a little longer,” Lenny said, grinning.

  David ignored him, changing his voice again. “Straight south of Governess Larrea is a small military force. May we destroy this opposition?”

  Garrett and the others moved to surround David as he continued to describe what he was hearing.

  “Permission granted. Destroy the humans,” David said, now in a female voice.

  “That’s kind of hot, David,” Lenny joked.

  “Shh, listen,” Pete said.

  In the distance, far to the south, they could hear gunfire in a succession of small pops.

  Quickly the gunfire stopped.

  “What the hell?” Lenny said.

  “We have eradicated the humans, Governess Larrea,” David said, his voice deep.

  “David, how are you hearing them?” Paul asked.

  “Good. Tighten our formation, press onward, and stay vigilant,” David said in the female’s voice.

  “David!?” Lenny asked.

  “I… I don’t know.” David again rubbed at his leg vigorously.

  “What the hell is wrong with your leg?” Paul asked, frowning at David’s thigh. “You been scratching at that thing like you got crabs for days now.”

  “I’ve been having dreams about my leg catching fire. It gets real hot in my sleep, then starts itching during the day. Today I remembered something,” David said, stuffing a hand into his pocket. “I had put this in a hidden pouch inside my cargo pocket, and when I pulled it out, it was glowing.” He held out the Eyra of Tunga, the object Coach had given them the night he died. The runes etched across the face of the thick golden medallion were glowing red.
“I started rubbing it and my leg started to feel a little better, but that’s when the voices started.”

  “That thing burned your leg? Is it hot now?” Lenny asked.

  “No, it didn’t burn me from being hot, which come to think of it is probably why I didn’t even think about the medallion being the cause, or for that matter even remember I had it at all.”

  Garrett looked over toward Governess and back to David. “Put that back in your pocket, David, before she sees it!”

  David gasped and shoved it back into his pocket. “Crap! Sorry!”

  “That’s how he’s doing it,” Pete said.

  “What?” Lenny said. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s like David said before, it’s a magical item,” Pete said.

  Paul nodded. “Now that I think about it, Tunga sounds a little like tongue to me.”

  “Of course,” David said with a smile. “This has to be a language item. It gives the user the ability to understand a language they wouldn’t otherwise understand. It isn’t a sword or a staff, but I bet it will let me understand any language spoken as long as I’m the one holding it.”

  “Will it let the rest of us learn the language if we each hold it?” Pete asked.

  “I don’t know.” David frowned, and Garrett could tell he was a little disappointed at the thought of everyone gaining the power.

  “Sneak it into my hand,” Lenny said, holding out his palm.

  David nodded reluctantly and reached back into his pocket, then froze.

  The trees stopped moving.

  David held out his hand. “Wait a sec, something is happening. Governess is talking to someone else.” David’s brows crinkled. “I have Garrett and his sages. We will arrive soon after you, Jurupa Quercus,” David said, then changed his voice slightly. “I have Breanne Moore and Gabriela De Leon.”

  “Breanne!” Garrett shouted.

  “They have my sister!” Paul shouted.

  “Quiet,” Lenny said, looking back over his shoulder. But it was too late.

  Governess entered the cell and marched toward David. “You have it, don’t you!”

  31

  Cerberus

  Thursday, April 21 – God Stones Day 15

  The Band of Holes, Peru

  From the dark, ash-colored egg, large black-taloned claws pushed away thick chunks of shell. When the opening was wide enough, a black-scaled head appeared, its red eyes fixed on Jack.

  Azazel, Apep, and the other dragons watched along with Jack, waiting to see the dragon emerge from this most unusual shell.

  Jack glanced to the sky, noticing the circling juvenile dragons descending to the tops of the surrounding mountains. Everything went still. Everyone only watched. Only Goch gazed elsewhere, his body rotted to a heap, his eyes set in death.

  The black dragon’s head flicked out its tongue and looked down into its shell. Suddenly a second head appeared.

  Azazel gasped.

  The other dragons seemed to be holding their breath.

  “Well, this is…” Apep started, then trailed off as a third head appeared from the shell.

  “This is impossible!” Azazel breathed.

  The elder dragons shifted uneasily. Behind them, the juveniles craned their long necks to see, though perhaps they didn’t understand the importance of what they were witnessing. Jack didn’t understand it either, really. What was the big deal? Were triplets so rare in the dragon world?

  “Our kind hasn’t seen a trinity dragon since the time of the dragon king. How has this happened? How can it be?”

  “A dragon king,” Apep said, sounding amused. “I thought dragons only had queens.”

  “Yes. But the legends say there was once a mighty dragon king. The son of the one-hundred-headed god, Typhon. The story said the king disobeyed and Typhon removed two of his own son’s heads then left him to live out the rest of his days with only one.”

  Across the narrow valley, the dragon stood and stretched his wings. Already the beast was as large as an elder dragon.

  Jack blinked, only now realizing there were not three dragons in the big egg – there was one dragon with three heads!

  “Will this be your new king, Azazel?” Apep asked with a smirk.

  “Don’t be ridiculous! This is not the son of Typhon! This is a manipulation by the power of the Sentheye cast by a human child!”

  The dragon’s three heads roared as it beat its mighty wings and lifted from the ground. Jack watched as the dragon flew straight toward him. He had half a mind to run, but he couldn’t let them see him scared. He squared up on the dragon, held out his hands, and prepared to disease its heart.

  “Wait, Jack,” Apep said, holding up a hand.

  Jack shielded his eyes as the descending dragon stirred the loose soil. It folded its wings and lowered its heads down toward him. The dragon heads sniffed his shoulders and chest, six nostrils snorting smoke.

  Jack nearly gagged as the putrid, rotten egg smell washed over him. “What’s it doing?” he asked, trying not to breathe the rancid air.

  “Queen Azazel, if this is merely an abomination created by human meddling, then perhaps you should allow the boy to keep the dragon?” Apep suggested.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, dökkálfar! We are not pets to be kept for the amusement of humans. It isn’t enough that your kind has enslaved us, but you also feel it necessary to insult me in front of my generals.” Queen Azazel’s own nostrils flared. “Let us kill the human and move on with more pressing matters,” she hissed.

  Jack staggered back, feet tangling in panic. Stumbling, he fell onto his ass, eyes flashing daggers as he scrambled to disease the queen.

  The big midnight-black dragon stomped in between Jack and the queen. Three angry heads, all teeth and menace, fixed themselves to burn.

  “Tell him to stop, Jack!” Apep ordered.

  Queen Azazel stood somehow taller, as she and her four elders roared.

  Part of him wanted to let it happen – to let the bitch burn, to let them all burn each other. But as Apep lifted a hand surrounded by swirling shadows, Jack knew he’d never let it happen. Besides, he sensed the better play. “Stop! Don’t kill her! Stop!” Jack ordered, letting go of his own powers.

  Three toothy mouths closed to sneers.

  Apep said, “Queen Azazel, I would never suggest your dragon be a slave to a human. But it appears to me your dragon has decided to bond with this human. I urge you to consider how this may help our cause.”

  “Absurd! One of my own dares to threaten his queen with heated breath and thinks to live?”

  “He is newly born. He is acting on instinct alone. Don’t you see? This could serve to our advantage.”

  “This is unacceptable! I will see them both destroyed,” Azazel said.

  Jack was sweating as he tried to touch his powers, but only with the tips of his fingers, only enough to grab them instantly if he needed to. He looked from side to side and noticed something strange in the eyes of the other dragons – fear. Hate was there too, as they clearly hated him, but they were also afraid. But of what? Then Apep spoke again, and Jack got his answer.

  “Your dragons don’t seem to agree with you, Azazel. Perhaps they are not so sure this dragon is not a gift from Typhon?”

  “Shut your foul mouth, dökkálfar! You know nothing of the words you speak,” Azazel shouted.

  Apep faced the queen full on, squaring up on her just like Jack would when he was about to fight a guy. “Then you shall do it because I bid it! This is a powerful creature, and I desire it in my army. The dragon stays, as does the boy!”

  The black dragon sat down next to Jack and lowered one of its dumpster-sized heads.

  Jack reached over and rubbed the beast’s neck. It closed its eyes and sighed. When Jack stopped, its eyes opened, and it pushed its head into his shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “Alright!” he said, rubbing its neck again.

  Azazel glared at the dragon and then at Jack. “As you wish, dökkálfar Apep. You
may have your dragon and the boy may live, but when this is over, they both belong to me.”

  Jack frowned. He didn’t belong to anyone.

  “Fine. Then it is done,” Apep said, turning to Jack. “You will need to begin your training now, Jack. I expect big things from you.”

  “Like what?” Jack asked.

  “I expect you to finish what you started with Garrett. Fail me in this, and you and your dragon will die a far worse death than you gave Goch. In this we must be clear.”

  Jack frowned. He didn’t like being threatened, but killing Garrett and the others was all he ever wanted. He nodded.

  “No, Jack, a nod won’t do. I require you to pledge that you will kill Garrett Turek and his cohorts.”

  “Nothing will keep me from killing Garrett Turek.”

  “Swear it will be done,” Apep commanded.

  “I swear, it’ll be done.”

  “And his cohorts, Jack,” Apep said.

  “I… I don’t know what that is,” Jack said, looking down.

  “I don’t think you are a very educated human, Jack, but what you lack in intelligence, you make up for in hate. Hate I can work with. I want Garrett and all his sages, his friends, to die.” Apep placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  One of the black dragon’s heads hissed.

  Jack looked at the hand on his shoulder and noticed the tips of Apep’s long fingers were black, like they had been burnt. He looked up and for the first time noticed the dark black circles under the creature’s swooping eyes.

  Glancing over at the hissing dragon, Apep raised a brow and then returned his gaze to Jack. “And I want you to kill them all for me, Jack. In return, I will not only let you live, but I will teach you how to master your gift. If you do as well as I think you can, you will fight in my army.”

  “And then what? After that, you give me to her to be dealt with?” Jack asked, nodding toward the queen.

  “Not to worry. Prove yourself to me, Jack.” He looked over at Azazel. “Prove your worth to Azazel, and I think she will see what I already see.”