It was the boy’s job to carry messages between the Dreamer and the Rain Queen—to Modjadji. If he missed even one word, his life and that of his family would be worth less than that of a tick on one of their cows.
“The old one has crossed over,” the Dreamer whispered. “The Balobedu ba gaModjadji must prepare…. Darkness gathers in the West…. We will dream in three days. She is coming.”
His eyes flew open and stared at the boy. “Go!” he screeched and stabbed a gnarled finger in the direction of the door.
The boy scrambled back and ran outside, down the dusty footpath, down the hill to the big dome-shaped, grass-and-mud hut in the centre of their village.
*****
Aum mitraya namah
Aum ravaye namah
Aum bhanave namah
Aum hiranyagarbhaya namah
Aum marichaye namah
Aum adityaya namah
Aum savitre namah
Aum arkaya namah
Aum bhaskaraya namah
The chanting reverberated through the small temple set on a hill above the town of Korak, India. The worshippers were dressed in robes of ruby red and faced east, towards a statue of Surya, the supreme sun deity.
A lone man sat in the Lotus position at the base of the ten-foot tall statue, his robes a deeper red than those of the congregants he faced. His eyes were open but unfocused, as his soul floated on the currents created by the sacred mantra.
A gong sounded outside the temple, signalling the end of the ritual, and the man came back to himself.
“My friends,” he addressed the group. “We have preparations to make. She comes in three days.”
*****
The pyramid shaped temple of Kukulkan was shrouded in darkness. The midnight moon had risen over Chichen Itza, Mexico, and with it came the rustling sound of thousands of feathers. Dark shapes emerged from the trees which surrounded the pyramid. Arms were covered in brightly coloured feathers, packed tightly together to resemble wings. Heads were covered in elaborate dragon masks.
At the centre of the circle, a man covered in white feathers and a golden mask on his head, turned around and around in a self-induced trance.
Kukulkan…Kukulkan…Kukulkan…
The chant ebbed and swelled, creating a vortex of power swirling through the group.
Three days…she comes in three days.
Kukulkan…Kukulkan…
*****
Not far from where Keira and Marco slept, an old woman brushed the silky mane of a white horse. She whispered words of instruction to the big animal. His ears turned in her direction and intelligent brown eyes regarded her with attention. His front hoof pawed the ground impatiently. He was ready to leave, ready to do what she’d asked.
Chapter 20
Keira ran. Mist covered the ground, she couldn’t see where she was going. Taunting laughter echoed all around her and she knew—just knew—if she ran faster she’d reach Victoria and everything would be all right. But it wasn’t and she slipped, sliding down a never-ending embankment. Branches scratched her arms and whipped against her face. She heard the rustle of feathers and jerked her head up…a feathered snake came gliding through the trees…flying…chasing her…she was surrounded by a ring of fire and there was no escape. No way out. Steel bands clamped around her body.
“Wake up! Keira, wake up!”
She opened her eyes and looked up into Marco’s face. He lay on his side next to her, one arm across her body, trying to shake her awake.
“Oh!” She gasped and flung her arms around his neck, holding on tightly.
“You were dreaming,” his voice was gentle. “Sounded like a bad one.”
“Yes,” she said. “Something was chasing me—I couldn’t get away.”
“Keira,” Marco’s voice tightened and he tried to loosen her arms from around his neck, but she held on, her face pressed into his neck, still lost in the fear of the dream.
The heat between them penetrated her mind. She lifted her head away from his shoulder and looked up into his clear, sky-blue eyes. She saw a sudden surrender there and he bent his head forward, slowly, meeting her lips with his own. The kiss lingered.
Keira was lost in the force of the emotions raging through her body. Her hands caressed his back, moving in a slow, sensual rhythm; they slipped underneath his shirt and she traced his rippling muscles with her fingernails. Her breath quickened and Marco groaned softly as her fingers followed the leather belt around his waist to the front, where the silver buckle rested against his flat stomach.
He reached down, grabbed her hands in one of his and stretched her arms out over her head, pinning her down with one of his long legs.
“My turn,” he growled, and bent his head down to the pulse throbbing in her neck. His tongue left a burning trail down her collarbone and stopped at the v-neck of her shirt. He let go of her hands and she grabbed the back of his head.
Keira arched her back to get even closer to his body which hovered over hers. His mouth was back on hers and she surrendered, giving everything of herself, of the deep emotion building in her core.
Then, he was gone.
The tent flap hung open, a cool breeze skimmed over Keira’s flushed skin. She lay dazed, not understanding. She took a few deep breaths, then sat up and hugged her knees. It was quiet outside the tent when she finally crawled out. Marco was nowhere in sight. She turned around slowly and scanned the trees which were just visible in the early dawn haze.
Nothing.
*****
Marco gasped as the ice-cold water enveloped his naked body. He had found the stream near their camping spot the previous day and ran there in a blur of motion a few moments ago. He swore savagely at himself.
“Stupid, stupid!”
He closed his eyes and tried to erase the vision of her from his mind, the taste her in his mouth and the heat of her body arching into his.
After a long while, he emerged from the water near where his clothes lay discarded on a flat rock. He dried himself with his shirt and got dressed. Marco sat down on the rock and sighed. “Victoria warned you,” he said to himself.
It was after the party at Keira’s parents’ house. He had a meeting with Victoria to discuss security arrangements for the upcoming Council meeting. He should have known her sharp eyes would miss nothing.
“You seem affected by Keira,” Victoria said out of the blue.
“You are imagining things,” Marco frowned.
“I never imagine things,” she said, her tone sharp. “Do not make the mistake of becoming involved with her!”
“Victoria, I have no idea what you are talking about. But that is beside the point. Who I choose to get involved with, or not, is none of your concern,” he said, glowering at the old woman.
“It is very much my concern,” she snapped. “The next High Priestess of the Guardians cannot get distracted by a romantic dalliance; especially not with the Commander of the Draaken!”
His voice softened. “I understand your fears, but this is nothing like your relationship with Roberto. You were the High Priestess, he was the Commander….”
“You understand nothing,” Victoria stopped him. “Even after all these years I cannot forget that I did not do my duty; did not fulfil my responsibility to keep him safe.”
Marco had never seen her so upset. “Victoria, it is not the duty of the High Priestess to keep the Commander of the Draaken alive. Besides, as powerful as you are, it is impossible for even you to be in two places at once. Roberto went into that battle as prepared as he could be.”
She cut their conversation short with a dismissive wave. “Enough of this. You will keep your distance from Keira. That is an order.”
Marco’s mind was troubled as he slowly walked back through the trees to the tent. Victoria and Roberto’s story was a lesson to all of the Guardians. They were the first High Priestess and Commander to become romantically involved and look where that got them: Roberto dead and Victoria so grief stricken that
she lost most of her powers. She stepped down as High Priestess and it was only after months of pleading from a leaderless Council, and with the utmost reluctance, that she agreed to being its Chairperson.
Marco knew that Victoria had wanted Keira to become the next High Priestess and that he, as Commander of the Draaken, would join her and continue the centuries old tradition of two people leading the Guardians. Victoria always said that her position was temporary; she was merely a substitute, until the next High Priestess was found.
Well, if Victoria was to be believed, their High Priestess had been found. It was his duty to protect her, even against himself.
At the edge of the clearing he paused and watched unobserved, while Keira threw items into her backpack. The tent lay in a tangled heap, his gear kicked to one side.
She froze for a moment when she heard his footsteps approaching, then slowly straightened up and turned to look at him.
“Keira….”
“I didn’t know how to fold the tent.” Cool green eyes met his.
“Keira,” he tried again.
“What!” Her attitude clearly broadcast that if she could impale him with a spear where he stood, she would.
“I have to apologise. My behaviour—I regret that I—”
“Oh stop it!” she cried. “Nothing happened, okay! Forget it. Let’s just get out of here.” She jerked the still open bag onto her back, spilling the unfastened sleeping bag out onto the ground.
“Bloody hell!” she swore.
“Let me help,” he offered and was at her side in a few long strides. He quickly folded the tent with practiced movements and packed the rest of their belongings in the backpacks while she stood to one side, arms folded.
Marco zipped the last compartment closed, when Keira gasped in alarm. He was instantly in front of her, crouched in a defensive position. The trees on the other side of the clearing shivered and the leaves rustled.
Two magnificent horses stepped out from among the trees. One was so white it seemed to shimmer in its own glowing halo; the other was blacker than the sky at midnight of a new moon. Both stood with their heads lifted proudly and their ears erect. Then they walked to where Marco and Keira stood in the clearing.
The horses stopped a few feet away and regarded them calmly. They snorted softly and tossed their heads, as if inviting the humans closer.
Keira smiled and stretched out both hands. The white horse nudged her hand up and she placed it between his soft brown eyes. She felt the connection instantly, seeing flashes of Marco and herself being taken to a wooden cottage on a hill.
She lifted her hand from the horse’s head and turned to Marco, who was stroking the black horse’s neck.
“They want us to go with them,” she said. “They will take us to where we have to be.”
“Good,” Marco answered. “I suppose you know how to ride?”
“Yes,” Keira answered shortly. Riding had always been another means of escape during her childhood. But she was not about to tell him that.
“After you, m’lady.” Marco mock bowed, grabbed Keira around her waist and threw her onto the white horse’s back before she could protest.
He handed up her backpack and she slung it over her shoulders. Then he twisted his fingers into the black horse’s long mane and leapt up, settling comfortably as if he’d been born to ride bareback.
Keira looked around, concerned that her feathered friend would be left behind. “Nagwa!” she called. A distant caw answered her as the raven circled above them.
The horses set off at a slow canter. It was as if the trees gave way before them and their branches bent back of their own accord, creating paths the humans hadn’t even noticed. Keira was just grateful she didn’t have to talk to Marco. She had dreaded the thought of walking through the woods with him for another day; now, they were too busy concentrating on staying seated when the horses jumped over obstacles in the path.
She relished riding again and her muscles quickly settled into the rhythm of the horse’s stride. After a while, she relaxed more and took the time to look around.
This part of the forest seemed different—older. The trees had thickened and had long ropes of moss hanging from their branches, giving them the look of old men with green beards. Ferns grew all along the path, dwarfing the horses and riders as they passed by.
A soft mist rose from the ground and enveloped the horses’ legs. Even though they couldn’t possibly see the path in front of them, the big animals continued forward with confidence, the sound of their hooves on the ground muted.
Keira glanced back over her shoulder at Marco. He grinned and she quickly looked forward again, annoyed at the way her treacherous body reacted to his smile. She felt so stupid for the way she clung to him after the nightmare. And then the way they kissed…her hands on his body….
He said he regrets it. It must mean he thinks it was a mistake.
She was caught up in her thoughts and didn’t notice the tendrils of mist creeping up her legs and around her waist, slowly surrounding her in a fuzzy white blanket. Keira yawned; it was as if her eyes were being dragged down by tiny, leaden weights attached to the tips of her eyelashes. Her head nodded and sank down until her chin touched her chest.
I’ll just rest for a moment, she thought and bent forward, her head resting on the horse’s neck. He snorted softly in reassurance, and the last thing Keira remembered was the feeling of her body swaying hypnotically to the rhythm of the big animal’s movements.
Chapter 21
Keira opened her eyes to sunshine streaming through a big open window. A slight breeze stirred white cotton curtains decorated with small blue flowers embroidered along their hem. She stretched and breathed deeply, inhaling fresh, crisp air and feeling more rested than she had for weeks. A smile tweaked at the corner of her mouth as her eyes drifted closed again and she snuggled deeper under the quilt.
Wait…quilt? Bed? Where the hell am I?
She bolted upright, standing on the bed with her legs against its headboard and her back to the wall. A quick glance revealed a small bedroom with round, honey coloured log walls, an oak dresser in the corner and her clothes draped over a floral, wingback chair.
Clothes…. Keira glanced down. Who dressed me in this nightgown?
The murmur of voices came from beyond the bedroom’s half-open door, followed by the tantalising aroma of freshly baked bread.
Keira stepped down from the bed, grabbed her clothes and quickly got dressed. Her boots had been cleaned of the mud accumulated from their long walk; she put them on too.
She peeked around the doorframe: a passage led in the direction of the voices. A floorboard creaked under her tentative step and Keira froze. It took a few moments before her heart resumed its regular rhythm and she could take the next step. She passed three doors that led to more bedrooms. Keira glanced in and saw rooms decorated like the one she had woken up in, colourful pillows and bedspreads, woven rugs on the floors.
Is this how Goldilocks felt? The setting seemed unreal; too bright and cheerful and in complete contrast to the past couple of days.
The passage ended in an arched doorway leading into a dining room. Fractured, rainbow-coloured sunbeams danced from several crystal chimes hanging from the ceiling.
Marco sat at a round table, tucking into a plate overflowing with bread rolls, scones and fruit; a steaming mug of coffee sat off to one side. He saw her in the doorway and stood politely.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” a cheerful voice greeted her.
“Hi…um…morning,” Keira replied.
The woman walking towards her had mischievous blue eyes twinkling from an ageless face. Short, spiky hair shone silver and a wide mouth smiled in genuine warmth. “Welcome home,” the woman said and enveloped Keira in a big hug, holding her tight to her soft bosom.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Keira asked.
“My name is Cassandra,” the woman replied. “Come, have breakfast.” She steered Keira to the
table and put a heaping plate of food in front of her.
Keira opened her mouth, but Cassandra interrupted, “Eat first, questions later,” she said and walked to a door through which floated more heavenly smells. “Getting more coffee,” she called over her shoulder.
Keira took a bite of a warm roll and was suddenly ravenous. Marco had sat down again and was throwing glances her way when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Keira kept her head down and devoured the food in front of her. Cassandra reappeared and put a full pot of coffee on the table. She sat down and slowly sipped at her own mug while Keira and Marco ate in silence. When she couldn’t possibly fit another morsel into her stomach, Keira sat back and sighed with content.
Marco also pushed his empty plate back and groaned. “Thank you Cassandra. That was exactly what we needed,” he said.
“You are most welcome,” she replied. “All right, now you can ask,” Cassandra said with a grin.
But Keira was at a loss for words. The millions of questions had evaporated out of her head, leaving only a confused jumble of thoughts.
“Where are we and why can’t I remember the journey?” Marco jumped in.
Keira realised she couldn’t remember either. She was riding on the white horse, felt so tired—wanted to rest for a bit—then woke up in the bed a few minutes ago.
“You are at my home,” Cassandra replied. “We are in the same forest you were travelling through—just a slightly different dimension, that’s all.”
“Can Daemon follow us here?” Marco asked.
“No, he can’t see this place.”
“So, the legends are true,” Marco said as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yes,” Cassandra smiled. “You are at the centre of all things, the place where the lines converge.”
Keira looked from one to the other as if she was watching a tennis match. “Excuse me,” she said. “Can we please get back to the ‘different dimension’ part?”
“Certainly, you can ask anything, anything at all,” Cassandra beamed. “This cabin, and the grounds on which it stands, exist in a dimension slightly to the side of the one you live in. It is here where the magickal lines that crisscross the earth converge. Which is why I am here. I am the Caretaker.” Cassandra’s face was serious, but her blue eyes still twinkled.
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