Guardians of the Four Shields: A Lost Origins Novel

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Guardians of the Four Shields: A Lost Origins Novel Page 23

by A D Davies


  Bridget sensed they were getting off track, and the volcano was coming up. She wanted to know as much as possible before they landed at the research station. Whatever they were studying here was plainly a big deal.

  “Was there anything else here when you discovered the device?” she asked. “Books you couldn’t read? Engravings?”

  “No,” Tane said, seemingly relieved to get back to the subject. “We only knew what our interior ministers knew, and that’s only because one of them went to Eton with Colin Waterston. They’d teamed up a few times regarding odd finds, and Colin had educated a select few in return for access.”

  “You were on the team?” Jules said. “That undercover business with the Nationalists looking for giants. That was a cover.”

  “The Guardian Protocols needed me to look into stuff that the NZSIS might not cover in terms of budgets and remit. I have a science background as well as military. Which means I understand a bit of physics. But if our biggest brains can’t work out why only certain people can withstand the power to control the orbs or direct it into the shield network, then I’m going to be lost.” He gestured between Charlie and Bridget. “I’m hoping your engineer and your language expert can shine a light on the obstacles we faced.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bridget said, a chill walking along her spine. “Are you suggesting you’ve turned it on? That it’s being powered?”

  “Yes.” Tane pointed excitedly out of the window, a child showing his parents a certificate earned at school. “It’s very much active.”

  All Bridget saw was the volcano, a dead mass of rock that once spewed lava and ash across ancient New Zealand. Back when the beast of a mountain lived and raged, she suspected the continent was closer together, now pulled apart by tectonic activity millennia ago. They passed over the walkways and huts familiar to anyone who had encountered volcanologists in the past, along with a miniature observatory, its telescope angled between 45 and 60 degrees.

  All held their breath as the helicopter swept its tail around and halted in midair, hovering over the deep, gray caldera. Bridget doubted anyone could’ve expected the view that greeted them as they descended, not landing on the surface, but passing through.

  It was like dunking underwater wearing scuba goggles—a clear line between above and below, a shimmering vein of air that offered no resistance to the vehicle, nor did it alter the temperature or atmosphere inside. The only things that changed were the gasps as the gray, lifeless basin transformed into a lush, green expanse. It must have been two miles from one side to the other, possibly more. Mist rose from the trees, and birds flew in small flocks. With only a few seconds to take in the scene, Bridget recognized parrots, gulls, and even a lone hawk circling.

  “Is the wildlife real?” Bridget asked.

  “Yes,” Tane said. “We introduced them and they quite like it here. We think they sense the shield and although it wouldn’t harm them, they choose not to go above it. They have everything they need in here.”

  “So, it’s like a huge laboratory experiment?” Charlie said. “That’s really dangerous. Especially when you admit you have no idea about the energy you’re trying to control.”

  “It’s amazing to look at,” Toby added. “But I must agree with Charlie. In keeping the secrets of these shields and the Guardians, and even the ancient existence of giants, you’ve allowed this technology to come to the attention of a nation like North Korea. I assume their discovery of a similar orb within their borders led them to investigate?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tane said. “What matters is the real reason I wanted to bring you here. And it wasn’t anything to do with national security or getting permission from Colin Waterston or Julia Grainger.”

  “Then, you’re working against your own people?” Harpal asked.

  “I’m a Guardian. I’m working in the interests of all people, not a government. If we can’t control this, and stop it getting into the hands of madmen like Ryom Jung-Hwan and Ah Dae Sung, we’ll need more than what we’ve discovered so far.” He was looking at Jules again.

  Charlie snorted lightly, her annoyance front and center. “You want him to help you get better control over a weapon of mass destruction?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jules said.

  Charlie rounded on him. Everyone had stopped gawping at the incredible sight outside, the helicopter touching down on a helipad attached to the almost-sheer walls—one of four Bridget counted dotted around the interior.

  “Easy.” Jules put his hands up in surrender manner. “If they want to inject an extra element like me, I’m guessin’ Tane ain’t ready to take over the world yet.”

  “You know me so well, man,” Tane said.

  “What is it?” Bridget asked. “You figured out why we’re here?”

  “Just a guess.” Jules zeroed in on Tane. “I hate guessin’. But you’ve brought us here because if they can’t come to a diplomatic solution, it looks like the North Koreans are gonna turn on their machine, regardless. You need people with insight. People who aren’t loyal to your government, or any government who might want this technology preserved.”

  Tane was nodding along, a big smile. He only juddered as the helicopter touched down.

  Jules addressed the others. “We’re not here to explore its workings. We’re here in case everything else fails… In case we need to destroy the network.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Landing on what was ostensibly a volcanic research station was jarring enough for Toby’s already-frayed nerves. And he wasn’t the only one. After stepping down from the helicopter on the pad elevated to tower block heights over the trees, Jules stuck close to the vehicle with Bridget and Charlie, while Dan and Harpal spread out to check the perimeter out of habit. Sally removed her glasses in a daze and rubbed them with a cloth before putting them back on.

  They had a matter of seconds to gaze across the lush vista before Tane urged them away from the edge. Then, they descended a staircase and followed Tane through a steel door to an unmanned, compact yet pristine processing and storage facility that smelled of sulfur. A staid, clinical interior, the polar opposite of what they just witnessed.

  “Who farted?” Dan asked, wafting one hand by his nose.

  “The rotten egg stench is a byproduct,” Tane replied. “It’s what volcanoes smell of. We keep the fake samples in here to break out and take up to the show-lab. That’s where most officials get shown, along with safety inspectors and other essential visitors.”

  Jules said, “I thought no one knew about this place.”

  “It’s obscure to visitors, not invisible. And defo isn’t invisible to paperwork. Or to the people going in and out. And the more open we are on that front, the less we get bothered.”

  Toby was happy to move to the next section of the complex, which was an elevator large enough for all of them without feeling cramped, like a goods lift or a hospital elevator.

  “Where are we going first?” he asked. “I’d very much like to view any literature you have. Anything that might indicate a source or a ceremonial function.”

  Tane pulled the door across and scanned his thumbprint on a panel. It lit up a board, and he pressed the down button. As they descended, Tane said, “This next chamber is the business end. The energy. Where we have to be most careful.”

  Jules clutched his backpack on one shoulder, tightening the strap. He exchanged brief eye contact with Dan, who returned a minuscule but firm nod, then did the same with Harpal and Charlie. Bridget and Sally appeared exempt from whatever caution passed between them.

  The car halted, and they stepped into a blank, steel vestibule with scanners and cameras, and grilles on the floor and ceiling. Following Tane’s instruction, they all spread out, standing in place.

  “Get ready,” Tane said.

  Toby appraised the box they were in. “For what?”

  Cloudy air blasted from above and below. Cold, steamlike bursts flapped clothes and made them stagger, an odor mixing chlo
rine and aniseed filling the room. After ten seconds, it was over.

  Bridget said, “Would have been gentlemanly to warn us.”

  Tane chuckled. “But not as funny.”

  The group let out a mix of nervous laughter and disgruntled murmurs.

  Tane looked up at a camera and held out his arms. “We’re disinfected and free from disease.”

  Silence replied.

  After five seconds, Jules said, “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

  “Yeah,” Harpal said. “We can try a different volcano if it helps. They look kinda similar, but—”

  A heavy clunk sounded. The wall slid aside with a smooth whirring noise. Beyond was a room that looked like a miniature airport control center, manned by three Maori men in dark blue uniforms.

  “Security,” Tane said, leading them out. The guards nodded to Tane, the final one slapping a handshake his way as they passed. “These guys double up as technicians for the machines below and act as eyes and ears for intruders.”

  “Most boring job in the world,” the handshake guy said.

  “Glad of that,” another replied.

  Toby couldn’t take it all in, but from his days working for Her Majesty’s government in many, many fields that he still wasn’t authorized to speak of, this appeared to be… “It’s a listening station. Monitoring activity around the region.”

  “Spot on,” Tane said. “As well as the immediate structural integrity and security, some of the folk in Taone Pukepuke know the real function here. Others don’t. They just know they’re not supposed to talk about it.”

  “Loose lips sink ships,” Charlie said. “What’s that?”

  “There are two secure rooms.” Tane indicated one door that looked like a vault. “In emergencies, this one can hold thirty people. The other, on the opposite side of the Ahua Basin, can take twenty. Twenty-five if everyone is polite enough to stand.”

  “The Ahua Basin,” Jules echoed. “That’s what you call the forest down there?”

  “Yep. And with its rainfall per square foot, it’s technically a rainforest. Lush, right?” Tane led them on to the exit, the room having only two ways in or out. “The Ahua Basin is a biological reserve, hidden from prying eyes by our modest experiments with a metal plate that we thought was something to do with building materials for a time. Like, an advanced bronze mold. But they unearthed it with artefacts pre-dating white settlers. Heck, it was from a time my own ancestors were just getting to grips with stone spear tips and rudimental building techniques.”

  “Another giant’s shield,” Sally said.

  “We don’t know that.” Tane opened the door with his thumbprint but paused, holding it ajar. “The metal and the slightly domed shape are what’s needed. The ones that legend says are forged from Achilles’ armor are just the way they were carried by different groups. Ours is more functional. And because it’s just one, we can’t link it to anything else yet. It’s far more modest.”

  “Indeed,” Toby said, filling in the blanks as he went. “That makes perfect sense. It must be the physical properties and dimensions that matter.”

  He regarded the others, but they appeared uninterested. Perhaps they were feeling the same as him—that this wasn’t archaeology, that even when circumstances escalated to dire and even deadly degrees in the past, they’d always been trying to discover hidden history because that was what mattered. Conflict and bloodshed had been a consequence. Here, they were learning much of the mystery from people who’d already uncovered it, analyzed it, and experimented with the results. Toby et al were here as advisors, and the aim was not to further humanity’s knowledge but to avoid serious violence that could descend on the world if they failed.

  As Charlie had said back at the hangar, they were archaeologists. Not detectives. Not spies. Not experts in quantum physics.

  “Come on.” Tane opened the door fully and pushed on through.

  More metal stairs took the group down to a level that appeared to be carved from the volcano’s interior wall on one side with ten equal panels painted a frosty white, lining the other—a modern-retconned chamber, staffed mostly by Maori men and women. Six in total, inspecting computers, handheld devices that Toby did not recognize, and each repeatedly glancing at the sphere hovering over a cradle.

  Toby knew this to be opposite poles at work. Magnetism had played a part in almost all the major artefacts connected to the Witnesses and the ancient people from tens of thousands of years earlier than the humans who evolved, blinking and semi-formed from the last ice-age. The orb LORI located in Scotland had been more ornate, cupped in carved hands that didn’t touch it but kept it aloft like this one. When the right connection was made, it emitted a blast of energy that knocked them out cold. Later, on a different expedition, a series of orbs around the world combined their power to threaten a plague, and only Jules could figure out how to prevent its distribution.

  As Toby and the group continued around the space like some fascinated tour through an art gallery, their guide presented a towering inlet, ten feet high and four wide, like a primitive wardrobe. Above this, a concave metal plate was embedded in the roof—the approximation of a shield, but rough and non-symmetrical. Almost a clumsy hexagon.

  As they all watched, awaiting an explanation, Toby offered, “The proximity of this to the orb isn’t coincidental, I assume.”

  “Similar to the setup in Africa,” Jules said. “But you enclose the person triggerin’ the machine in here instead of… what I had to do.”

  Toby nodded agreement.

  “There are a few people here who can activate things,” Tane said. “But before we go on, I got someone here you need to meet.”

  One of the dark-haired female technicians who’d been bent over a computer tablet on the other side of the inlet said, “That’s my cue, I guess.” She took a deep breath, stood straight, and smoothed her lab coat before turning to the group. “Hello. Hope this isn’t too awkward.”

  Toby had never expected to see this woman again. Having formed an uneasy truce and trusted her to do the right thing after Valerio beat LORI in the acquisition of dozens of ancient scrolls, she’d been efficient and consistent with information. Most of it useless, but she seemed to have upheld her side of the bargain.

  “Prihya Sibal,” Toby said, unsure how to feel. Angry that she had disappeared without a word? Relieved Valerio Conchin—the man on whom she had agreed to spy for them—hadn’t killed her and disposed of the body? “You’re here.”

  “She sure is,” Bridget said bitterly.

  The others gawped at her.

  “Why are you here?” Sally asked.

  Toby looked at the professor. “You know each other?”

  “I don’t think so,” Prihya replied. “Maybe, though—”

  “No,” Sally said. “I’ve seen your face, though. Where have I seen your face?”

  Prihya smiled. Her cheeks darkened a little. Embarrassed. “Well, if you’re in the same field as me, or these guys, you might have come across some online theories. I haven’t always agreed with official narratives.”

  “There are so many of those types of video.” Sally shrugged. “That must be it.”

  “Glad you’re not dead,” Jules said. “What happened? Toby said you were helping keep tabs on Valerio.”

  “I was.” Now Prihya’s embarrassment dove deeper. Not a shy regret from a poorly researched video, but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. “I got scared. Valerio was all withdrawn, holed up in that estate of his in India. Never went out. He was healing, able to move around in a wheelchair on his own, but he kept that big guy with him. The one with brain damage?”

  “Horse,” Jules said. “Never thought he’d live more than a few months. He survived?”

  “Money,” Charlie said. “Gets you the best care. Experimental treatments.”

  “Right.” Prihya paced, holding everyone’s attention, while the rest of the control room’s inhabitants filed out at Tane’s silent behe
st. When they were alone, she spoke more candidly. “He was manic a lot of the time. Lots of drugs keeping him going, obsessed with those scrolls that we couldn’t open.”

  “An ancient bit of ingenuity,” Toby explained to Sally. “We recovered some ourselves but, likewise, couldn’t get into the cases. Like the old puzzle boxes, there was a tiny vial of acid that dissolved the contents if accessed incorrectly. We suspect some version of a lock or like a safe combination is needed to unscrew them. But they date from tens of thousands of years before we thought writing began, so I wouldn’t expect to interpret them, even if we got them open. Not without—”

  “Valerio managed it,” Prihya said. “He used some sort of sonic device based on MRI scanning. When freezing the fluid didn’t work, they had to alter the liquid some other way. They got the frequency wrong a few times, and it smashed the vials and destroyed the contents. After the third time, he ordered Horse to kill the person who messed up.”

  “That’s not like him,” Jules said. “He comes across as crazy, and murders when it’s useful to him, but he ain’t usually like that. Killing outa frustration.”

  “He’s like that now,” Prihya said. “Horse crushed that poor man’s windpipe and watched him suffocate.”

  “And he wasn’t some mindless thug,” Dan said. “Aussie special forces. Tactical, efficient, brilliant soldier and close protection agent.”

  Prihya remained patient, holding herself crisply under the gaze of people who didn’t trust her. Charlie had not liked the fact Toby kept in touch with her, and Harpal had floated the idea she might have been delivering planted intel. Fake reports to keep them on the back foot. Toby believed she was on the right side, though. That Valerio had manipulated her into believing LORI were the cold-hearted villains, and she’d acted accordingly. When Valerio’s true nature became clear during their sojourn in Africa, she’d switched to the side she saw as closer to her own ethics and ambitions.

  She said, “The next people Valerio brought in to calibrate the scanner succeeded. To a degree. An x-ray negative showed markings I couldn’t make head nor tail of. I spent days trying to decode them and had access to all Valerio had gotten his hands on so far. But there was no Rosetta Stone. No key. He was getting quieter, saying less every time I reported no progress.”

 

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