The Secret of Namana (The Arnaka Saga Book 2)

by Lucia Ashta

  No one ate breakfast. The adventurers were too distracted by the alternate world they could not deny existed. Instead, Sitting Bear stoked last night’s fire, which they kept alive throughout the night in an unusual decision. After what happened to them, staring into the dancing flames was soothing. They let the fire burn on while they slept because it comforted them, as if the fire kept a watchful eye.

  Even though the day was already warm, Elena and Marco crowded closer to the fire, watching Sitting Bear tend to it. The only sounds were of the fire crackling and the whoosh of a daring wind that darted in and out to lick at the flames. The lovers remained there, transfixed, until the climbing sun made them sweat, and forced them to retreat from the source of heat.

  Still, none of them spoke. They felt too raw to interact much with each other. They needed time to process what happened. They might not reach complete understanding, but they could at least allow the event to settle within them.

  Elena lay back down on top of her sleeping bag and stared up into the sky, hands crossed behind her head, supporting it. Above, an endless canvas of blue stretched out. Only wispy clouds interrupted the monotony.

  A hawk flew into view. Elena did not move her eyes. Rather, the hawk found her watchful gaze. The hawk showed her his strength and agility. He flew with ease because Creator designed him for flight. When beings worked with their true natures instead of opposing them, they discovered grace.

  This hawk had always known his true nature, and he flew with unparalleled elegance. He adjusted his wingtips to compensate for the slightest shift in air currents. He banked left and then right. He and the wind flew together, back and across Elena’s gaze.

  Right now, the hawk flew for Elena. Light emanated from her, and it pulsed, calling to him like a beacon. Impulsively, he responded to the beckoning pulsation. He searched for the source of this light until he found the woman.

  Like the hawk, others also felt drawn to Elena’s light. This light was magnetic. Although Elena did not realize she was emitting it to the world at large, everyone and anything that could sense these things could feel it. Another hawk appeared within Elena’s scope of vision. Elena’s eyes were wide open, but she was in a daze, unmindful of her body’s presence.

  This second hawk joined the first hawk in a show of artistry and acrobatics. From far below, Elena felt the joy of their play, and she released more light out to the world.

  Two eagles responded next to the drawing energy, arriving over Elena almost at the same time, although they had come from opposite directions. Circling far above the hawks, the eagles engaged in their own choreography. The sky exhaled.

  The undulating energy had grown greater than Elena herself, becoming something of its own. Birds continued to respond to it, meeting above Elena. Numerous species swirled and tumbled in celebration of life. Nature’s usual hierarchy surrendered to a pervasive harmony that overpowered animal instincts. Predator and prey came daringly close to one another; they danced.

  Never before had the sky seen such a display, but perhaps it would again. It had been a very long time since these birds had flown as friends. Competition was now absent. In its stead was a celebration of universal abundance.

  More came, this slice of sky fast becoming dense with Creator’s flying creatures. Still, despite the number of birds that circled above Elena, all flight was harmonious and not one creature was hurt. Even owls, usually solitary keepers of the night, felt the energetic pull and joined the ebullience.

  Although the affair was vivid and busy, no noise reached the ground. No bird chirped or called. No bird sang. It was a silent dance that displayed the perfection of design. Bodies elongated in practiced flight. Only the muted sounds of elegant, extended wings descended softly, slowly, like a blanket of midnight snow, to rest upon the ground.

  Elena’s eyes grew heavy. She was barely aware of what was happening above her. She did not realize she had been the catalyst to all this action. The pyramid transformed her yesterday; she dispelled the illusions of the unbelievable and impossible.

  Elena was entranced, and her eyes begged rest from watching the birds’ flight. She closed her eyes, and, almost immediately, sleep claimed her.

  But Marco and Sitting Bear would not close their eyes until the poetic displays ceased. The men would watch until the last of the birds dissipated, flying off toward different points on the horizon. And even then, the shock would not wear off.

  The men would stare at the sky after the sun regained its brightness, cleared of the bodies in flight that called Marco and Sitting Bear’s attention skyward in the first place. They would ponder the amazing feats of Creator, deliberating where to draw the line between illusion and reality.

  They would wonder at the amazing being that lay just feet away from them on a sleeping bag, pretending she was a creature of this world, when they both knew better.

  The day crept by, noteworthy only in its uneventfulness. Marco and Sitting Bear sat in contemplation while Elena rested. The men watched the sun crawl across the sky in wonderment.

  Every aspect of divine creation seemed to fill Marco and Sitting Bear with admiration, and they spent the rest of the day pondering the magnificence of it all. The flight and creeping of insects fascinated them, and the swirl of colored strata in the rocks, representing eons, amazed them. Everywhere there was evidence of a millennia of history, of life that faded in and out of existence, sufficient to make their one human instant appear insignificant in comparison. But the grandness of creation prompted the opposite reaction in these men. Each moment was full of such rich wonder that it gave more depth to the present.

  Marco and Sitting Bear experienced similar emotions and reached like-minded conclusions, because they were connected to the whole of creation. And when the sun finally began to consider its descent, they gazed into it. They received the sun’s gift of power and energy, which it offered freely to everyone who would accept it, and they felt renewed.

  While they stared fixedly into the sun, Elena began to stir. She flexed her fingers and toes. She had soaked up the sun’s rays while she slept, and she too felt rejuvenated. She opened her eyes lazily and smiled.

  The day was almost over, and, to an outside observer, Elena had done nothing all day. But she knew she had done the right thing. Despite the urgency of the ongoing war between light and dark, she honored her need for integration. She could not evolve further without adjusting to the growth that had already taken place. Important things should not be hurried.

  Elena stretched her arms overhead, enjoying the opening pull in her body. Then she sat, wrapped her arms around her folded legs, and laid her chin on her knees. She turned her gaze toward the sun. Together, she and her companions stared at the sun until, finally, it dipped below the horizon.

  By the time nightfall fully enveloped the pyramid, lining its crevices with cloying, dark shadows, Elena, Marco, and Sitting Bear sat before the fire, staring into its depths as if it were a necessary ritual. The familiarity of night wrapped them in the comfort of her cloak.

  And while they watched the flames, probing eyes monitored them. The fixed stare of a dark heart was upon them. The elements of nature detected the darkness that watched—silently, secretly, hideously—and nature conspired to protect the light warriors. The All of Everything knew why the twins must fulfill their destiny, a destiny that did not contain itself to one time line.

  It was then that the time lines palpably merged, and Elena’s watchful coyote friend perked his ears at the unusual shift in energy. It was something he had not felt before. It was an undercurrent of different worlds beginning to join with this one. It was not until Elena skimmed her hand along the pyramid wall yesterday that this had ever happened in this place.

  Now, time itself was longing to connect Elena and Ashta. Time wanted to see them intertwine, to merge their power and wisdom.

  But this could not happen. Elena and Ashta embodied an identical soul. To merge the two distinct incarnations defied the ways of creation
. Still, from this moment forward, the lives of these two women, from two different times and in two different bodies, would become inextricably interlaced. Their lives, thoughts, and experiences would mingle.

  It would no longer only be Elena who could see into Ashta’s world. Now, Ashta would also glimpse Elena’s world. The two women would glide by each other like the ghost ships of distant times—there but not quite there—passing each other in the fog of predawn.

  In a precise, shared moment, Elena and Ashta allowed their eyelids to flutter closed over bright yellow eyes. Each flashed to the life of the other. Each woman sat in the dark of night; one sat in the moonlit shadow of a special pyramid, the other in the moonlit shadow of an exceptional tree. Together, with their twin at their side, they worked toward the same goal.

  When the women opened their eyes again, they stared into the same moonlight. They both smiled a smile that no one else witnessed: Elena because she knew that Ashta and her companions had found the doman and Ashta because she knew that Elena sat at the base of a pyramid. It was only a matter of time before Elena remembered how to use it. The very air around the women came to life to hold its breath.

  25 Wrath of Darkness

  The light warriors decided to rest for the night. They had accomplished enough for today. Already, they had completed the first two parts of Dann’s final prophecy. Kaanra had located the tree that concealed the forest’s treasure, and Thom was cradling the doman he had retrieved from its womb.

  Thom and Kaanra spread their blankets on the ground, and Ashta and Anak did the same. They fanned out around the base of the tree, working around its vast network of roots. Of course, they could move away from the tree to find flat ground, but none of them wanted to. They were drawn to the tree.

  The tree emanated the nourishing power of motherhood, at once gentle and forceful, in a poetic parallel of Mother Nature at large. So the three men and one woman nestled among gnarled and ancient roots, and the comfort the embrace offered them compensated for any physical discomfort.

  They fell asleep in an instant. Faint moonlight filtered through the wide canopy, illuminating the scene. The ruby Ashta wore over her heart glowed a strong and steady red, but the blanket all but concealed the glow, and neither she nor Anak noticed it.

  They slept deeply and dreamt vividly, until Master Kaanra roared a brutal roar.

  The twins and Thom startled to immediate alertness. They stood on their blankets, ready to defend themselves, struggling to synthesize what was happening in split seconds. Ashta and Anak had drawn their swords. Thom, however, was unarmed, but he looked no less ready to face whatever attacked them.

  When they spotted Master Kaanra, partially hidden by the tree’s massive trunk, they ran to help. A man hovered over Kaanra, holding a bleeding hand over Kaanra’s mouth, unsuccessfully attempting to clamp it shut after Kaanra bit him. The man’s other hand pressed against Kaanra’s chest, trying to hold the older man down. Kaanra thrashed like a man of much younger years, and his attacker struggled to control him.

  Even though the man had abandoned the illusion of crow for his attack, he retained avian qualities that paralleled those of his animal form. But where the features looked befitting in the crow, when translated to human form, they looked wrong, a distortion of the beauty of Creator’s design.

  The assailant hunched over Kaanra. The moon tried to reach black, beady eyes, but its light could not penetrate them. The man’s hair was a black as dark as raven feathers, and he wore it slicked back against his head. Only a few strands of hair fought to stand on end over the crown of his head, mimicking the way the feathers stood up when he embodied the crow.

  Clothed in dark garments, he attempted to blend into the surrounding nighttime, but his darkness was denser than the air of even the stillest nights. A man who had once been handsome was no longer that. The shadow within him distorted his features so there was something not quite right with the picture, though no one who looked at him could decide what exactly was wrong.

  The man pushed Kaanra’s head into the ground roughly, holding him there. Kaanra thrashed. With his other hand, the assailant groped and patted Kaanra down hastily. The dark illusionist had incorrectly assumed the wise old man would be the one with the power and the knowledge to retrieve the doman. Since he did not know what the doman was, not even its shape or size, he searched everywhere on Kaanra’s body indiscriminately.

  The illusionist underestimated Kaanra’s strength, thinking he could quiet him before he had a chance to alert his companions. Now, Kaanra made the task of searching his person as difficult as possible, thrashing and kicking. The dark shape shifter drew a knife from the sheath at his waist and moved to slit Kaanra’s throat. The threat was one swift motion, but the light warriors were faster. They were already upon them.

  Simultaneously, Ashta and Anak beamed light that preceded their arrival. The light wave was unfocused, but it was capable of reaching the attacker before the twins could. It proved enough to distract Kaanra’s aggressor, buying them precious moments as he looked over his shoulder alarmed.

  He should have been able to take the doman before anyone could stop him! But he had not expected such stubborn resistance from the old man. His attempt thwarted, he took to flight, disappointed he did not find the doman he thought the light warriors were there to retrieve.

  While the light warriors watched, the man transformed his appearance. In a flash of visual confusion, the body of a full-grown man condensed into that of a raven. Then, the raven rose into the tree’s canopy. It was the direct path out of there. His clothes converted with him, but his knife did not. He did not have time to return the knife to the place he reserved for it in his calculated transformation. The knife clattered to the earthen ground, a clank of metal and bone hitting hardened roots.

  But the raven had not yet escaped. The tree he flew up into was mother of the doman, and she, like all mothers, was resourceful in protecting her offspring. The canopy of branches and leaves knitted into a web that closed in on the raven, impeding his exit and nearly extinguishing all hopes of escape.

  Just then, however, the light that blazed ahead of Ashta and Anak shone on the last open crevice between branches and leaves as it was drawing shut. Without pause, the raven shot through the opening, hurling himself through the choking tree canopy. Finally, the raven reached the freedom of sky, where he flew rapidly, without looking back.

  Thom was closest to Kaanra and reached him first. The twins were just two steps behind. They assembled on all sides of the master, checking to make sure he was okay. They were aghast at how close they had come to loosing the only real father figure they had. It had all happened in moments.

  There was blood around Kaanra’s mouth, though it was not his blood. Bruises were already forming on the old man’s chest, and his body ached from the effort of defending himself. But his throat was unscathed, and Kaanra was deeply grateful. He was not ready to leave this plane yet. He had to see through this important victory for the light before departing.

  Kaanra did not dare stand yet, doubting the steadiness of his legs after the intensity of the attack. He had been in a deep sleep when his attacker had thrust Kaanra’s body into the ground with such force that it knocked the air from his lungs. Kaanra struggled both to defend himself and to root in his body after the drifting of sleep, all at the same time. His mind was uneasy with the abruptness of what was usually a gentle grounding, and Kaanra was nauseated while he fought for his life.

  Water, Kaanra whispered, and Thom ran to retrieve his canteen. When Thom handed it to Kaanra, already opened, Kaanra did not drink from it. Instead, he used the water to clean the blood from his mouth. Although Kaanra was anxious to rid himself of his assailant’s blood, this was not a hasty cleaning. Kaanra took great care to honor the water that was washing the blood and the earth that was accepting it for transformation.

  Blood was a powerful vehicle of energy. Because it was a carrier of life, a person’s blood was indelibly marked with h
is way of being. The substance of the person—whether light or dark—was contained within his blood. This particular blood was dark since extreme wickedness corrupted its host.

  Thank you for cleansing me of this dark, Kaanra said to the water while he used it to scrub his mouth. Thank you for purifying the darkness of this blood and taking it away for transformation, so that it may once more hold the essence of light.

  Kaanra was on his feet now, steadying himself by leaning into the tree trunk. He let the watered-down blood splatter from his face to the ground around the tree. This was a very powerful tree, and Kaanra knew she could guide the blood through its course of transformation into light.

  Thank you for soaking up this blood, Kaanra said to the tree and to the earth beneath it, and filtering it of all darkness.

  The water, the tree, and the earth guided the blood to rediscover its intrinsic nature.

  Next, Kaanra and the twins looked toward Thom. Thom gingerly held the knife the illusionist dropped during his shape shifting between his index finger and thumb, not wanting to touch the darkness that roiled off the knife any more than necessary. Thom knew they must retire the knife from its dedication to darkness and hide it so no one else would find it.

  Something like this, used in ceremony to carry out the will of the forces of darkness, accrued power within itself. If an object was used enough times and with enough focus to carry out the purposes of dark—or light—it was imbued with this energy. This knife could be dangerous in the wrong hands for this reason. This knife, unless cleared of the remnants of darkness, would urge its new owner to wield it as its original possessor had.

  The four warriors formed a circle, Kaanra’s back still against the tree trunk for support, and held hands. The knife oozed iniquity, but there was no fear among them. Each of them was strong enough to overcome it.