Part Fifty One
by LeiLani

Sydney could feel the current flowing from her – not through her, but from her and into the incredible piece of ancient engineering. It wasn’t a conscious decision on her part, to do or not to do – her mind was drawn along the same finite point, every thought, every focus poured into the stream that flowed like liquid fire against gravity, a fragment of the universe that was its own law of physics. She could see the font of power, and while her intellect labeled it a bit of harnessed lightning, everything else in her screamed that she was missing something with that scientific observation. She was intensely aware of every other person connected to the statue. It was a link of mind and soul and spirit and body that manifested in an experience more intimate than lovemaking.

She instinctively shrank away from the unplanned exposure, sensing that her companions were reacting in the same way. And in that will to separate, the beam disappeared, collapsing in on itself with a deafening clap of thunder. She felt herself flung back onto the rocky floor of the cave, and lay panting, fighting to collect her scattered wits. With the separation, she’d recovered her individuality, but in the aftermath she was suddenly conscious of personal solitude on a whole new level. The withdrawal left her with a significant gap she couldn’t identify, an absence more profound than the ache in her body.

She pushed herself up, ignoring the crumbled glass that ground into her palm. Glass was everywhere – between their assault on the statue’s casing and the shattered skylight, there wasn’t a square centimeter that didn’t glitter with the stuff. She stared at her hands, then at her companions, fighting to assign names to the overwhelming sensory feedback.

Blood. There was blood on everyone. Faces faded in and out of her vision, and light pulsed even when she closed her eyes. The statue… Gold… Unimaginable power. And danger. Something tickled at the back of her mind like a thread that threatened to unravel at the slightest provocation.

"Sydney?"

The voice was familiar, coming to her from a distance, its modulated tones and subtle accent a caress that reached out to brace up her psyche. Nigel. Her mind put a name to the face and the voice and she smiled. The ringing in her ears was on the decline, and the fluctuations in her vision were beginning to recede, as well. She opened her mouth, then closed it, still not quite trusting herself to speak.

"Sydney, are you all right?" another voice queried.

The second, dark-haired man was Lloyd, she realized, as she graced him with a smile, too. Her smile faded as she noted the bruises that painted his face and arms. From the way he moved, it didn’t take much imagination to know that the damage wasn’t limited to visible areas, either.

Kneeling next to her, Nigel repeated, "Syd, can you hear me?" Other than an unnaturally pale hue to his already-light skin, he appeared more or less unhurt. He reached out and caught her hand, hauling her to her feet. With his touch, she yanked her head up. His startled expression mirrored what she felt.

She nodded, finally replying, "I think so." How funny… Her voice sounded more foreign than Nigel’s. "What about everyone else?" Her wits were returning and she assigned names to the faces, connecting the dots of memory to place each person in her life.

"I broke a nail!" The indignant screech told Sydney that Claudia was unhurt.

"Oh, forget your bloody nail! Look at this mess! And we still don’t know what that damned statue did. There are murderers out there!" So Preston was apparently alive and more or less well, too.

"Are there?" Nigel challenged. He stood ramrod-straight in the center of the rubble, hands on hips, every muscle tensed.

It was the same question running through Sydney’s head, rational or not. A part of her wanted to scorn, Don’t be ridiculous! You know perfectly well that they’re gone! The scientist in her argued the point, her own mind in conflict with itself. Then again, the scientist in her had witnessed plenty that didn’t fit the classical definition of rational. "I say we find out."

Lloyd’s face was stony. "That stuff – that electricity – it wouldn’t be selective. If it was strong enough to kill the Gural Nataz, it would be strong enough to kill my men."

My men? Since when did Lloyd have ‘men’? Sydney tucked that little tidbit away for future reference as she picked her way across the floor of the cave. The shattered glass looked like a treasure trove of diamonds in the sunlight, crunching beneath her every step. Thank God for the thick protective soles of their hiking boots!

Sydney was no more than a meter ahead of Nigel. She heard the same crunching sound multiplied as the rest of the crew fell into step behind her. Stepping back out onto the plateau, two spectacular differences sunk in.

One, the entire face of the cliff was cracked and now shearing away, scratching a path through the thick vegetation as it tumbled down the mountainside. Mud and stone were carried along in the flow of ancient glass, until there was a steep, smooth incline, a landslide. And two, there were a lot of excited voices filtering up from below. Men and women pointed up to the mountainside, and a few shouted in their general direction, though the words were unintelligible. Sydney strained to see the Gural Nataz guerrillas. She couldn’t see them any more, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, hiding and poised for a strike.

However, Sydney and company now had a new problem.

"Oh shit," Claudia breathed.

Sydney concurred wholeheartedly. While their little entourage was unhurt, their return path was buried beneath countless tons of loose dirt, glass, and stone. "Okay, I think Plan B is in order." Before anyone had a chance to ask, she explained, "Today’s Plan B is something besides Plan A. I’m open to suggestions."

"Maybe Ichriem can make us fly?" Preston asked timidly.

Sydney turned just in time to see Nigel throw his arms around his brother and kiss him full on the lips. Preston’s expression said he was none to comfortable with his little brother’s exhuberant behavior, but Sydney knew a Nigel brainstorm when she saw one.

"That’s it!" Nigel crowed. He stomped to the edge of the debris and plucked something from the dirt. Sydney saw a flash of something bright, though it was tucked into his sleeve before she could see what it was. He ran back to the statue and that was when she understood. He slid a feather into the space in the statue representing Shu. "Sydney," he said, his hands already on the dull gray hand portion of Shu’s statue. His rendition of Sydney’s name was a request and order and tacit explanation wrapped up in one.

Sydney moved in opposite him, clasping the counterpart on Tefnut. There were two subtle differences from their previous attempt, and every instinct in Sydney knew that this was right. Her breath came in short puffs as she stared into the feline and very feminine face before her. Ichriem was symbolic in every way – even male and female. She’d been on Shu’s side before, with Nigel on Tefnut’s. And the feather… The long plume rose in a sweep of orchid and chartreuse, but it was just as much a part of the equation. It was a key, and the instant her hands clasped Tefnut’s outstretched digits, the quill sunk into the gap, finally swallowed up. And as it disappeared, Tefnut’s eyes glowed from within, throwing a ruby wash over her skin. Shu’s eyes were emerald, casting green over Nigel. Even the hues were perfect opposites.

This time there was no need for heavy pressure on the statues. The slightest touch moved the crystalline bloom. There was no need for verbal communication, either, because the relic hunters were in complete accord and connected by a current that linked mind and soul. The statue exercised a level of control, as well, sending its own messages along the line of power – educating, exhorting, uplifting, and healing.

The world dissolved around them, swirling in a sea of light and color. Unlike before, Sydney had no discomfort and no desire to remove herself from this link. When the connection ended, it was like the ebb of a midsummer’s tide. Sydney closed her eyes to warm in the final wave of comfort. When she opened her eyes they weren’t in the cave any more. She and Nigel were smiling at each other from the opposite sides of Ichriem, standing on a narrow strip of white sandy beach she envisioned moments earlier.

At first she thought she was dreaming, because the blood and bruises were gone from all of her companions and she no longer ached along every inch of her body. But at the periphery of her vision, she saw men and women swarming out of the woods. One of the men called to Lloyd, asking if he was all right. Lloyd gave the man a dazed look and a wave and a nod.

A lizard ran across her foot and she stared after it, realizing that it wore a red bandanna around its neck, a tiny swath of fabric with a unique design. She recalled the same kerchief, spying it on the neck of one of the Gural Nataz. A shiver ran through her and she stared, first at the mother of all relics, then at the lizard that had been her enemy, then at her friends.

And slowly, she smiled, then laughed. We did it. We have Ichriem!

Sydney reached around and caught Nigel’s sleeve, pulling him into a hug. Acting with one mind, they reached for Lloyd, then Preston and Claudia. The group hug was a knot of people tied together by something stronger than any chain. They were friends.

THE END


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