Dance Of Fireflies: Action Adventure Mystery Visionary Apocalyptic Series Inspires Hope For Teens and Adults (Taming The Impostor Saga Book 1)

by Sheri Vie

  A musical female voice replied, “The boy is exceptional. He’s surely been sent to us for a reason. Perhaps us finding the GIFT could be linked to us helping him.”

  No one responded and she continued. “Once he’s well, he can explain for himself. If we don’t believe him, we don’t have to do anything more.”

  “What about tonight? We must address the rebels,” Rama said.

  “I know a place,” Siya said. “Near the meeting spot. Hey, lots of caves there. Yebo, you get nice and cold there now ’cos of—”

  “Okay.” Rama cut the boy off. “We must hurry.”

  The door opened.

  A beautiful woman glowed in the doorway. Jali’s heart missed a beat. Her long black hair curled around her face.

  She noticed his glance and smiled. He relaxed and returned her smile. Behind her two men towered. A muscular bearded man with dark curly hair, and a slender blond man who wore a white coat.

  Siya and Shiana weaved past them and dashed to Jali’s side, while the cat curled up beside him and meowed.

  Jali fixed his gaze on the woman.

  She came to his side and sat close to him. A scent of roses caressed his nostrils. She looked deep into his eyes. He smiled as she clasped his right hand and placed her palm on his head.

  “Welcome to our planet Earth. I’m Kriaka Adi,” she said in a musical voice, and turned her head. “The little girl is my sister, Shiana, Ana, and the bearded man is my brother, Rama Adi. The one beside him attended to you. He is my fiancé, Dr. Herby—Herb. Of course, Meosic is curled up at your feet. And I think you already met Siya.”

  She turned to Jali, and her hazel-brown eyes sparkled.

  “What is your name?”

  He felt sheltered.

  “I am called Prince Jali.” He smiled before everything turned black.

  ***

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

  KRIAKA PANICKED.

  Herby rushed to Prince Jali and felt his pulse. “He’s passed out again.” He touched the boy’s forehead. “He sure is burning up.”

  “Quick, there’s no time to lose,” Kriaka urged.

  Rama prepared their transport, and Siya helped Herby with Prince Jali. Kriaka and Shiana hurriedly packed for the precarious trip as they ran around the little shack in Arena Park, in the middle of Chatsworth, in the heart of South Africa.

  Within minutes, Herby carried the boy over his shoulder, past the back door held open by Siya, and into Rama’s faithful eight-seater truck. Herby laid the prince in the last row in front of the boot space, and Meosic curled at his feet.

  Fast and quietly the troop piled into the bakkie. Kriaka settled in the passenger seat and as she checked on Shiana in the row behind her, returned Herby’s loving smile. Rama revved faithful Jen, patted the dashboard, and set her in motion through the back garden. Siya closed the hedge gate and hopped in beside Shiana. Solemnly, they drove northwest.

  “What time do you expect the First Ones to gather in Giant’s Castle?” Kriaka asked Rama.

  He adjusted his well-worn cap. “We sent the word for them to meet at nine p.m. The park will be deserted well before then.” He looked at the dusty clock. “We should be there around eight p.m.”

  Kriaka turned to Siya. “How do we get to the cave from the park?”

  He steadied his glasses and scratched his head. “I’ll know the way when we get to the park.”

  Meosic jumped and curled up on Shiana’s lap.

  Kriaka winked at Herby, who as usual grasped the chance to pucker his lips and blow her a kiss. She turned to Siya. “We’ll have to leave you with Prince Jali in the cave and head to the meeting arena. We’ll swing by after the meeting. You’ll be okay?”

  “Yebo, I know that place inside out. It’s cool, and Prince Jali will get better there.”

  The little lost green-eyed boy tugged at Kriaka’s heart. His body appeared weakened from the foreign surroundings, and his skin had become greener when Herby laid him on the seat.

  Tonight was important. They had to remain focused on the meeting with the First Ones and galvanize their plan to hunt for the GIFT. Placing a hand on Rama’s, she bit her lower lip and sighed. Now they had one more variable to consider.

  A crease deepened on Rama’s forehead, yet she felt an odd sensation of relief, and she rubbed his shoulder. But he stared straight ahead and they jolted through the back roads as loyal Jen chugged them along the five-hour trip toward the nature reserve.

  In the distance, an impending storm threatened the afternoon sky.

  ***

  After several hours on the grit roads surrounded by sparse vegetation, undetected by the Dragons, they passed the once inhabited town of Mooi River and entered a treacherous unmarked route.

  A bolt of lightning whipped Kriaka and the worried troop in the bakkie to attention.

  Siya counted. “1…2…3…4…5…” and Shiana screeched at the roar of thunder.

  “The lightning struck one point six kilometers away,” Siya said, with a wise grin on his face.

  The sky opened like a burst dam, and a torrent of rain pelted Jen’s tin roof. Rama maneuvered her between deep puddles in the section notorious for potholes. They’d purposely chosen the back route, a stretch of red sand and stones, which discouraged regular traffic. A nightmare on any good day, the dirt road now worsened with the torrential downpour.

  Except for the bounce of Jen’s booster headlights, the path remained invisible.

  “Glad I installed the headlamps yesterday,” Rama shouted, above the clatter of rain.

  Kriaka strained her neck. The pitch-black at the rear of the truck and the incessant roar of rain drowned any hope for conversation.

  Without warning they hurled from their seats so hard that Meosic hit the ceiling with a horrendous shriek—or was that Shiana? And they fell like a roller coaster on its steep descent. Jen did not move. Rama crashed his fist into the cracked dashboard, cussed, then spoke in a somewhat composed voice. “Is everyone all right back there?” he shouted above the noise.

  Kriaka could feel his frustration.

  Soft squeaks flowed to the front. “Yeah, we’re okay,” Shiana and Siya replied.

  “Ja, okay,” Herby said.

  Rama switched on the flashlight, pulled his cap off his head, and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “This is all we need right now,” he said and groaned.

  He replaced his cap, pulled the worn-out hoodie over his head, and kicking open the door, he jumped out.

  Siya shoved open the back door and joined him, and within seconds, drenched wet, he hollered through Kriaka’s window. “Jen’s in a big donga! We have to carry her out!”

  Kriaka tightened her hood, and ramming open the rusty door, stepped into a cold, mucky hole. Behind her, Herby guided Shiana. The storm cut out any communication whilst they trudged with Rama around Jen. He directed them to push from the back then returned to the truck and revved her. At his signal, the foursome forced with all their might.

  Jen screeched but did not budge. Rama signaled again. They tried, but she remained glued in the ditch. Shiana screamed and slipped. Kriaka pulled the collar of the little girl’s jacket before Rama gave the sign. They thrusted their soggy bodies against Jen, but she was in too deep, and the foursome relinquished.

  Out of the haziness, headlights reflected on the back of Jen and she jerked, lit up, and easily skidded out of the ditch.

  Kriaka’s body trembled. Turning, she instinctively shielded her eyes, pulling Shiana close. Rama slammed the door and joined them.

  Someone emerged from the vehicle and stomped toward the group. Kriaka felt Herby’s protecting hand on her shoulder, yet her mind sank, as a large silhouette in a long coat and hood emerged.

  Its authoritative voice boomed above the noise of the pouring rain. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah!” Rama shouted, his voice laden with suspicion while they watched the vague outline of the man. “We just hit a spot of
trouble, but it seems okay now.”

  “I’m Pierre—are you the First Ones’ leader?”

  Rama stepped back and bade the troop get in the truck. Siya and Shiana obeyed, and Herby stood closer to Kriaka.

  She did not move, her gaze fixed on Pierre. “Who are you?”

  He came closer. She felt Herby’s grip tighten on her shoulders, as Rama positioned himself between the man and her.

  “Chill out, my bru,” Pierre drawled. “I’m one of your attendees. Lookin’ forward to the meet.”

  Rama remained silent.

  The stranger’s loud voice appeared close to Kriaka’s ears. “Look, my fog lamps are real strong. Whaddaya say I go ahead and you lot follow me—easy enough to do. We’re not too far off now.”

  Rama hesitated. After a few seconds, he muttered. “Yeah, we can follow you up to the entrance. We need to fill petrol there, then we’ll meet you up at the hall.”

  “Okay, see you at the entrance to the park.” Pierre stared straight at Kriaka. “It’s my pleasure to meet you.” He dipped his head, walked backward, spun around, and vanished into his vehicle.

  The trio heaved their soaked bodies into the truck.

  Rama started Jen. “Thank goodness, I thought no one else knew this back road.”

  Kriaka turned, confirming that Siya, Shiana, and Meosic were settled. “How’s Prince Jali?” she asked Herby.

  He shone his torch at the boy. “The storm and drop in temperature are helping him, and I think he is less green now.” Herby’s tone hardened. “Who was that?”

  “He says he’s one of the new rebel guys,” Rama replied, his voice enthused. “I’ve heard many joined up last night after the word went out.”

  A sports Mercedes overtook Jen.

  “Man, does he have a solid car. Snazzy! Must be loaded,” Rama said as he followed Pierre.

  Herby snorted. “Strange fellow, that.”

  ***

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE DRAGONS

  RAMA APPEARED LESS STRESSED as they drove behind Pierre. The storm eased off, and the rain dissipated. Kriaka smiled at the rainbow brightening up the late afternoon sky.

  Within a thirty-minutes, lights flashed ahead, and the sports car screeched to a halt. Rama slammed on the brakes, stopping within a few inches of Pierre’s vehicle; Kriaka steadied herself and gasped.

  “Oh no, it’s the Dragons,” Siya said.

  Rama glanced at Kriaka.

  “Shh,” he whispered. Reaching for the secret side compartment below the steering wheel, he pulled out their father’s handgun.

  Kriaka shivered, and tapping his hand she shook her head. “No, Rama.”

  He resisted the weight of her hand for a moment, but clicked his tongue and yielded. She returned the weapon to the compartment and they sat tight.

  The Dragon duo headed for their truck, long black jackets flowing behind them, guns snug in their hip holsters. Behind them the leader’s sleek leather coat blew in the wind. His weapon glistened as he approached Pierre. The two men engaged in conversation.

  Kriaka watched the scene unfold; her heart thumped. The duo reached Jen. The shorter Dragon veered to the left, his burning gaze fixed on Kriaka. He passed her and headed to the back window. She swallowed hard and dug her fingers into the seat. Behind her Shiana moaned and almost choked.

  “Stay calm, Ana,” Kriaka whispered.

  The second Dragon, his jet-black hair falling sleekly over his ears, advanced toward Rama. Kriaka shook her head at Rama and urged him to stay calm, while the Dragon glowered over Jen.

  “Hey, Saks!” he yelled. “Check out his side. There’s someone in the backseat.”

  Kriaka froze as she glanced into the rearview mirror. The last time she checked with Herby, the blanket hid Prince Jali while Meosic and the food basket lay on top. She hoped that nothing had changed since then. Her gaze met Herby’s; he did not blink.

  In the front, the sleek-haired Dragon fixed his stare on Rama, whose white-knuckled fingers gripped the steering wheel. The tension mounted.

  Saks pressed his hands on the back window and plastered his nose against it.

  Meosic meowed and clawed at him. He backed away and swore.

  The leader hollered from the Mercedes in the nick of time. “Come on, Dragons, there’s nothing to be done here!”

  Saks cursed again, spat, and kicked the tire. With his finger, he signed a rude threat to Herby and Meosic as he punched the top of Jen, and stormed off. The duo neared the sports car where Saks chatted to the leader. They turned and glared at the truck.

  Pierre started his car and summoned Rama to follow him. Without hesitation Rama revved Jen and raced behind, splattering mud around the trio. The leader stared at Herby, and Saks yelled obscenities at Meosic.

  Kriaka turned to scan the hushed troop, and found Shiana’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay, Ana.”

  Next to her, Siya blinked fast. “Hayibo.”

  At the back, Herby lifted the basket, uncovered Prince Jali and smiled at Kriaka. “He looks much better,” he said, and rubbed Meosic’s neck. “You clever cat. You saved us!” She purred and resumed her spot at the prince’s side.

  Rama let out a loud sigh. “I wonder what that Pierre told the leader? Isn’t that Chan’s son?”

  “Yeah—Michael. He does all his father’s dirty work, though I heard he actually hates Chan,” Herby said. “Wow, I’m just glad they let us go!”

  ***

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GIANT’S CASTLE

  JEN’S OCCUPANTS TRAVELED IN SILENCE, snuggled in the safety net cast by Pierre.

  Kriaka pondered on their narrow escape. I wonder how he learned about the First Ones? She dismissed her nagging questions, grateful that he’d convinced Michael to let them through.

  The rainbow’s brilliant colors unraveled, flipping the sky to a passionate orange.

  Siya shared his anecdotes, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “History says, a long time ago, South Africa was called the rainbow nation.”

  “T-t-tell me s-s-something fun about the rainbow,” Shiana said.

  “Yebo, the ancient Greeks said the rainbow is a bridge between humanity and the best of the best world.”

  They passed through the real world instead and Kriaka saddened. Little children, mostly stark naked, ran by the side of the road and waved as Jen bumped through their impoverished villages.

  Bony cows rested in the bare countryside. Young women trudged along the riverbank, balancing buckets of water on their heads, watched by elder men and women who sat on crooked porches of brown plaster houses.

  The poverty throughout the villages yanked at Kriaka’s heart. What have we let our world become?

  Ahead of Jen, Pierre competently swerved the fancy red Mercedes around the pothole-ridden road. One by one, the villages disappeared as Jen chugged behind the sports car toward the mountains alongside a creek. A blaring sign near the bank read “Private Fishery. Trespassers will be prosecuted.”

  The brisk fresh air welcomed the weary troop when they entered the gravel road that wound through the pass on the border of Basotho Land.

  An hour later, Siya pushed his head between Kriaka and Rama and pointed.

  “Look! There’s the entrance to Giant’s Castle!”

  Siya continued in a high pitch, filled with excitement. “The cave is close by.”

  Jen labored and Rama frowned, patting the dashboard. “Hang in there, Jen.”

  They drove down the tortuous road, close behind Pierre, to the boom gate beside a tiny tilted brick house. An elderly African gatekeeper hobbled out as Pierre screeched to a halt. The man stretched his back and flashed a toothless grin at the two vehicles.

  He lumbered over to Pierre, who chatted with him and pushed a stack of notes into his hand. The guard’s eyes lit up, and another broad smile filled his creased face. With effort, he opened the boom gates. Pierre drove through, leaned out his window, and watched the troop enter.

  Siya saluted to the
elderly man, who received them with another toothless grin.

  Rama shouted to Pierre through the open window. “Thanks, bru, go ahead! Alert the others we’re on our way. We gonna fill petrol here.”

  Pierre grinned and revved the Mercedes up the road.

  “Yebo, good,” the man said, shrugging. “Angaz, maybe no petrol tomorrow.”

  Rama reversed to a stained little petrol stand near the trees. “Wungani, fill it up, boss.”

  The old man nodded, his eyes bright. He opened the petrol cap and his old hand shook when he started the machine.

  “Wait a minute,” Siya said.

  Kriaka peered through the window as the boy forced his body against the rusty back door.

  The old man grinned when Siya joined him and they spoke fast in Zulu. The elder rolled his eyes, shook his head strongly from side to side, and with his spare hand slapped the boy scoldingly on the head.

  Rama kicked opened the driver door, but before he could get out, Siya signaled no, and all heads turned toward him and the old guard in heated discussion.

  The man grabbed Siya close and whispered. The hushed conversation continued for several minutes. A clanking alerted the guard. He removed the petrol filler, tightened Jen’s cap, and patted Siya on the shoulder.

  Siya bowed. “Siya bonga.”

  Rama paid for the petrol, the elder clasped his wrinkled hands together, and waved goodbye as the troop continued up the road in the nature reserve.

  Rama turned to Siya and in an eager voice asked for feedback.

  The boy cleared his throat and whispered, “The road to the cave washed away last week in the mountain storm.”

  Kriaka caught her breath.

  Shiana gasped close behind her. “W-what if Prince J-J-Jali dies?” She choked back a sob and looked with desperation at Kriaka.

  Siya intervened. “Hayibo, no, the elder, he told me how to get to the cave, and it’s shorter!”