by Melissa Frey
The young boy hesitated. Well, it should have been an easy question.
“Answer,” Na-um demanded, his anger flaring.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know. My family was gone before I was old enough to remember them, and no one knows where I came from. I have been staying with Tohil.” Surnames were considered an unnecessary formality in the Clan.
Na-um nodded. He vaguely remembered such a story, of a young boy orphaned and taken in by the Elders. He rephrased his question. “Are you old enough to fight?”
“Yes, sir.” Holun nodded vigorously.
“And given your performance of the past few days, do you believe you will be an asset to our force?” He didn’t really try to hide his critical tone.
Holun hung his head, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I have tried my hardest, sir. It seems that my skills lie elsewhere.”
Something about the way he said that last part piqued Na-um’s interest. Maybe this boy would explain what he thought he had seen in the earlier scuffle. His eyebrows rose quizzically. “And what skills are those?”
Holun once again looked up at him, a blank expression crossing his boyish features. “It is hard to explain, sir. Perhaps I can show you?”
Na-um nodded once. “You may.”
The young boy’s eyes fell closed. Na-um felt an ethereal chill trickle down his spine. Though the gesture was simple, the effect was eerie.
After about half a minute, Holun opened his eyes. “Most of us will be training for at least a few more days, and in a rainstorm. The Elders are not ready for us yet. But a small contingent will be called upon soon for an important task.”
Na-um was speechless—he hadn’t told anyone of his plans to send a small group of soldiers to Lamanai in the near future . . . how could this young boy possibly know that?
Holun smiled at him unassumingly, as if he was expecting this reaction, and remained silent.
Na-um recovered quickly. “What was that?”
Holun shrugged nonchalantly. “I can see what’s going to happen.”
Na-um had seen too much in his life, heard too many legends to doubt this boy’s words. “Impressive. How does it work?”
Holun smiled. “I just close my eyes and the visions come. The longer my eyes are closed, the farther out I can see.”
Na-um returned his smile. What a fortunate turn of events! “Does anyone else know of your ability?”
Holun shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t believe so. I just learned of it myself recently. I’ve been testing it in secret.”
Na-um was ecstatic. As far as he knew, this was unprecedented in their Clan—and he was well versed in the Clan’s histories. He ordered Holun to continue to keep his ability a secret, but knew he would take this new knowledge into account as he prepared for the impending conflict.
He continued to train his small but determined force as the rains came, just as Holun had predicted. He knew his people wouldn’t have another chance for this to work, once the final battle began. They would all need to know how to fight as he could, so they would prevail.
The next few days were filled with constant practice and growing anticipation, and Na-um began to tire. He knew this training was necessary—vital, even—but he couldn’t help but become impatient. When would the Elders give the order? When could they fight?
The answer came that night.
Lamanai Archaeological Project, Northern Belize Rainforest
The morning dawned bright and clear, and uncharacteristically cool for this time of year. The heavy rains that had drenched the dig for the last few days had fortunately stopped—for now, anyway—leaving the air thick but chilly.
Kayla was up with the sun. She dressed hurriedly, layering her light khaki pants and deep blue tank top with a lightweight tan work shirt. She knew that, despite the cool breeze blowing now, the day would heat up considerably in a hurry. She exited her tent early and couldn’t help but smile brightly when she found Grady at breakfast, wearing khaki pants with a black polo shirt stretched across his chest. She noticed Grady’s returning smile a second too late, but nothing in his expression told her he noticed her lingering glance at his chest. She was beginning to think he was either very unobservant or very gracious. She didn’t think it was the former.
After breakfast, as she and Grady approached the off-road vehicle that would take them to the airport, Kayla surveyed the group loading their gear into the SUV.
Of the easily two dozen workers presented the opportunity to travel with them—Kayla and Grady had held a short meeting last night around the campfire to discuss their upcoming trip—only three people had shown up for the expedition that morning, one of whom had offered only to drop them off at the airport. Still, Kayla was grateful for the support they did have, and determined to make the best of it.
Kayla and Grady exchanged introductions and good mornings with the three men as they tossed their bags in the back of the vehicle. They took the front seats as their small group jumped in the back and began the long, bumpy drive to Belize City.
A few miles down the road, however, the SUV started sputtering, shaking and jerking all over the road. Kayla glanced over at Grady, who was clutching the steering wheel in an attempt to keep the vehicle under control. Just before she opened her mouth to ask what was going on, the SUV jolted violently, then stalled. Grady, groaning from the driver’s seat, threw the vehicle in park and jumped out. “Everyone stay put for now; I’ll see what the problem is.”
Kayla ignored him. She hopped out of her side of the car, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She still hadn’t found her missing notepad—it hadn’t been in the work trailer as she’d hoped—so she wasn’t going to let anything else important out of her sight. “What is it, Grady? What happened?”
Grady was crouched down at the back of the SUV with one hand on the bumper to steady himself, looking underneath. “Great. It looks like something cut the gas line.”
“What?” As Kayla leaned down to look, she saw a small object protruding from a rubber hose underneath the vehicle. “What is that?” she asked, pointing at it.
Grady had seen it too. He reached for it, dislodging the object.
“Be careful,” Kayla breathed.
As he turned the small object over in his hand, Kayla shivered, realizing what the sharp object that Grady now gingerly held between his thumb and forefinger really was.
In his hand was a small arrowhead, one clearly handmade but also clearly very deadly. She looked toward the surrounding forest, contemplating what kind of person would do something like this, eyeing the foliage for any sign of trouble. It was then that she noticed something stuck in the back tire—another razor-sharp arrowhead, larger than the first but shaped just like it. A quiet gasp escaped her lips.
Grady’s eyes shot to her face. Kayla could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t look away. Her gaze was locked on the arrowhead jutting out of their back tire.
She knew when Grady saw it. “Okay, this can’t be an accident.”
Kayla was frozen, staring into space and trying to make sense of the situation, when suddenly she felt Grady jerk beside her. But before she could turn to him, she caught something out of the corner of her eye that looked a lot like a flame . . .
Then she heard Grady in her ear: “Kayla, run. Now. RUN!” He shoved her toward the trees, away from the SUV, then smacked the palm of his hand hard on the back door as he yelled to those inside. “GET OUT! NOW!” In the next moment, only seconds after he’d started running for the trees, the SUV exploded, shattering into a million pieces. The force of the explosion knocked Kayla forward and she crashed to the ground. She felt the heat of the blast scald the back of her legs as the flames licked the morning air.
It only took her a second to figure out what had happened. She leapt to her feet. “NO!” Kayla screamed, reaching back instinctively toward her new friends in the now unrecognizable vehicle. Grady grabbed her around the waist, holding her back. Another smaller explosion made them both jump and fal
l back to the ground. Kayla was sobbing, tears streaming down her face; she couldn’t remember when she’d even started crying. “Why?” she wailed between sobs. “Why would someone do this?”
But Grady didn’t have time to answer. Suddenly Kayla felt herself being torn from the ground. Before she could react, she felt a sharp pain at the back of her head; then everything went black.
University of Central Florida, Orlando
“Mandy! Phone!”
Mandy Carlson, a third-year student in UCF’s graduate-level Maya Studies program, looked up from the suitcase she was packing and made a face. She flicked her mid-length strawberry blonde hair away from her neck in disgust. Though she loved her boyfriend of three years, Justin Stanford, she knew he knew it, too; that was the problem. He frequently took her for granted—and she hated the aggravating way this sometimes made him act. I’m not an animal, she thought. You could’ve asked nicely. Or, heaven forbid, actually bring me the phone.
She found her blond-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend in the living room, holding the cell phone she’d left on the coffee table. His eyes never left the TV as she snatched the phone away from him. She glared at him with her hazel eyes on her way to the kitchen, though he was too enthralled by the TV to notice.
“Yes? This is Mandy Carlson.”
“Ms. Carlson, this is Dean Stewart.” The caller wasn’t really a surprise. Her “teacher’s pet” reputation at school had begun to include the deans as well.
“Hello, how are you?” She kept it formal. The man was kind and gracious but Mandy still found him a little intimidating, even over the phone.
“Fine, fine. I have a request, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, what is it?”
He hesitated almost imperceptibly, but she caught it. “Do you know Drs. Harrington and McGready?”
Her heart jumped a little. A knee-jerk reaction—a subconscious habit she couldn’t suppress whenever she heard his name. “I was in one of Dr. McGready’s classes last semester. Is he okay?”
Another moment of silence, this time glaringly obvious. When the dean didn’t respond, Mandy asked another question. “What happened?”
She heard him sigh. “Ms. Carlson, Dr. Harrington and Dr. McGready are missing. They were at the Lamanai dig, working, and they seem to have found something. But as they were heading to the airport in Belize City this morning they were . . .” He paused, then tried again. “Well, by all accounts, it looks like they were ambushed.”
Mandy’s next word came out a whisper. “What?”
Dean Stewart sighed through the phone. “I’m sorry to drop this on you so suddenly, but I knew you were headed to Lamanai tomorrow, anyway, so I wanted to ask if you would head up the search party.”
Mandy couldn’t help but get a small bit of satisfaction from his request. Finally, her years of making nice with the teachers were paying off. And if she were the one to find them . . . “I would be happy to.” In her sophomore year at the university, she had met Professor Grady McGready, immediately developing a crush. She had since matured and grown out of it, but was still concerned with his well-being—probably a little more than she should be.
Maybe she hadn’t grown out of it as much as she’d like to think.
The Dean sounded exceptionally relieved. “Please find them. Our school can’t afford to lose such great archaeologists—or such great people.”
Mandy smiled. She knew Dean Stewart well enough to know he really did care about his people. “Justin and I were just packing for our flight in the morning. Should we leave sooner?”
“No, the morning’s flight is the first one headed that way. Please let me know what you find out. We’re all concerned for them; any news would be greatly appreciated.”
Mandy smiled, her dimples making an appearance in the empty room. “Will do.”
He hung up without another word.
Mandy’s smile faded as she let the situation sink in; this news was particularly distressing. She always looked forward to Grady’s classes—what was wrong with a little ogling? She vaguely remembered Professor Harrington—she thought she’d had a class with her a few semesters ago—but couldn’t quite recall what she looked like. Mandy was always more attentive when it came to the opposite sex.
“Justin!” She yelled too loudly. She smirked as she returned his earlier favor. See how you like it.
Unfortunately, as she had come to expect, he didn’t notice her subtle rebuke. He simply loped into the room, energy drink in hand. “What’s up? What’d the dean want?”
She rolled her eyes at her always less-than-attentive boyfriend. “Something happened at the dig. Grady McGready and Professor Harrington were attacked on the way to Belize City. No one can find them, so they want us to head up the search.”
Justin grinned. Mandy knew without asking that he would be overly excited about such an adventure—and though she would never admit it, it was one of the reasons she put up with him. “Cool!” He took a large final swig from his drink, then chucked it into the recycling bin with a large, dopey grin. “Let’s go pack.”
He sprinted ahead of her into their bedroom. She followed with the intention of finishing up her own packing. Of course, that happened eventually.
CHAPTER 7
Captivity
Rainforest, Location Unknown
Kayla woke slowly, her head throbbing. She was sitting up, slumped over in a chair. How had she managed to stay upright while asleep? She struggled to remember what had happened, but could only remember bits and pieces. Where was she? How did she get here?
She opened her eyes, but was met with nothing but darkness. She tried to move her hands to clear her vision. The movement sent sharp pain through her wrists and up both arms. Panic squeezed her chest until she could barely breathe as she realized why her arms weren’t moving—her hands were tied behind her back.
Abruptly shaken from her stupor, she quickly realized something was obstructing her vision. She wanted to call out to Grady, try to see if he was nearby, but something was covering her mouth, too. It tasted like blood and sweat, and the salty flavor nauseated her. Though she didn’t know where she’d go, she tried to get to her feet. But whoever had brought her here was thorough—her feet were bound to the legs of the chair she was sitting on, effectively binding her to her dark prison.
Someone was coming; she could sense it. She stopped struggling instinctively, hoping that whoever it was didn’t intend to cause her additional harm. Unlikely, she thought.
The intruder ripped the shroud from her eyes, yanking out some of her hair in the process. Kayla yelped through the gag in her mouth; she couldn’t help it. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she noticed Grady sitting a few feet from her, his head slumped over as if still asleep. Her loud howling did not seem to wake him; she figured that he must still be unconscious from whatever had knocked her out.
The man in front of her—bulky and by no means in shape—was barely covered in scant strips of what was probably homemade leather. His body seemed to fill the tent as he roughly wrenched the gag out of her mouth while shouting something at her in a language she didn’t quite recognize. She stared at him, uncomprehending. He rolled his eyes, or some approximation of the gesture, then switched to broken English. “Why you here?”
Kayla didn’t understand. “What?”
An enormous hand shot into the air just in front of Kayla. Her eyes instinctively squeezed shut, anticipating impact.
A quiet yet authoritative voice interrupted the angry man just as his hand was gaining speed. A small gust of wind blew across her cheek. Just one word in their captors’ language had halted the man’s attack, but the big man’s hand had come very close. Way too close.
Kayla had to remind herself to breathe as the voice spoke again. Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze falling on the newcomer, the one who’d rescued her from almost certainly getting knocked out again.
The man was tall and muscular and was standing almost casually just inside the door of the
tent, holding back the door flap with one hand, a clear invitation. He stared pointedly at the other man, who huffed loudly, then stormed out of the tent.
The newcomer was dressed very similarly to the previous man, but the strips of leather fell perfectly around his muscular arms, his tight chest, his thick legs. Black, unkempt hair fell around his shoulders, clearly unwashed but somehow managing to still look healthy. Kayla could appreciate the distinct line of his jaw and the intriguing sparkle just behind his deep brown eyes, but he wasn’t her type. Of course, kidnapping her took him out of the running long before she’d ever met him.
The man spoke in accented, yet nearly perfect English, in sharp contrast to the previous man. “He meant, why are you in Belize?”
Kayla somehow managed to find her tongue. “I’m an archaeologist. So is he.” She nodded to Grady, whose head was still slumped to his chest. The handsome man was still waiting, his barely covered chest heaving in unconcealed annoyance, so she continued. “We work for a university in the States, and are excavating the Lamanai site.” She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell this stranger, so she stopped, waiting for him to respond.
He took only a moment to assess what she had said. “And where were you going?” It was odd, but Kayla had the thought that he already knew the answer.
“Belize City, to the airport. We were headed back home for supplies.” The lie slipped easily off her tongue. She didn’t like it, but when she needed to she could convince even the least gullible of people. And something told her this man would need a lot of convincing.
He eyed her suspiciously. Kayla could almost see his mind working, deciding whether or not he would accept her explanation. Kayla stared back, unblinking.
Grady started stirring, slowly coming out of his fog as Kayla had. Their intimidating captor noticed. He ripped off Grady’s shroud, then untied the gag. Grady turned his head and spit on the ground. The man stared at him, then asked, “Where were you going?”
Kayla cringed internally. Had Grady heard her? Would he inadvertently expose her lie?