Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) by Debra Holland

sensed the piece had done its job. The metal warmed against her hip. Perhaps it has new responsibilities . She pulled the medallion from her pocket and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. “I want you to have this.” She tossed it to him.
    Automatically, Azab caught it and, with a puzzled look, studied each side.
    “Maybe it will guide you back here someday.”
    Before he could say anything, Sadie turned and slung the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. She walked toward the shrine, pushing her suitcase in front of her, and pulling her travel case behind her. The wheels caught on the bricks, and she cursed. I’ve never read any fantasy stories where the heroine takes a suitcase along. She shook her head at the idea. I’m leaving everything else, so the least I can do is take the damn thing.
    Her annoyance with her baggage helped keep her growing apprehension at bay. At the entrance, Sadie paused and looked back at Azad. Am I doing the right thing?
    Azab gave her a wave of farewell.
    With no free hands, all she could do was nod in return. She slipped off her sunglasses and tucked them into a case in her backpack. Her heart banging against her chest and butterflies the size of bats flapping in her stomach, Sadie stepped over the threshold.
    ~ ~ ~
    In dim grayness, Sadie shuffled down the brick corridor, pushing her suitcase with one hand and pulling the travel case with the other. She carried her backpack slung over her good shoulder, figuring her suitcase would bump into any obstacle, or fall into any hole, thus giving her a warning. Yet an odd sense of safety kept her from imagining—for more than a few images—things that had happened in Indiana Jones movies or the dangerous travels of the Hobbits and Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings .
    Under her feet, the brick changed to a smoother surface, making navigation of the suitcase easier without straining her arm.
    Mist in the air wafted against her face, refreshing her. The tinkle of a fountain or tiny waterfall urged her onward. Seeing an arch-shaped light in the distance made her quicken her pace. She entered a circular room with a domed ceiling illuminated with tiny lights like the night sky. A large pool in the center held the statue of a larger than life size veiled woman draped from head to toe in a long gown, not unlike the chadors worn by Arab women. Water dripped from her outstretched hand into the pool.
    The peacefulness of the underground room beckoned Sadie closer to the water.
    Welcome, daughter.
    Sadie gasped, dropped her pack and the suitcase, and looked around. Goosebumps prickled her skin. “Who’s there?”
    I am Withea, Goddess of Binch-Alat on the world of Kimtair .
    The hair on her neck stood up. Sadie spun a 360 but didn’t see anyone. She looked toward the exit. Not too late to leave.
    The statue waved a hand toward the pool. Come, bathe and refresh yourself in my water.
    Curiosity niggled through her fear. Sadie studied the figure, possibilities flitted through her mind. A Disney animatronic? A hologram? A larger-than-life woman dressed as a statue?
    Laughter sounded in her mind.
    None of those, Sadie. I’m a Goddess, and this is my manifestation.
    “Goddess?” She shook her head in disbelief. “There’s no such thing.” Sadie couldn’t believe she was talking to herself.
    Perhaps it’s best if you just consider me a magical statue.
    Magic sounded just as absurd to Sadie. But she remembered the medallion, the draw to this place. She loved fantasy stories, and the idea she might have stumbled through the looking glass into her own wonderland appealed to her. But her rational mind wouldn’t allow her to take the statue’s words at face value.
    Bathe, Sadie, all will be well.
    “How do you know my name?”
    Sadie sensed amusement from the stature, but the figure didn’t answer.
    The arm trickling water into the pool lowered and beckoned.
    Sadie stooped to feel the water, which felt warm and familiar somehow. She groped