Guardians of the Akasha (17 page)

And I refused when she asked me to join the Guardians, to help them against their enemy
, Keira thought. She didn’t say that to Marco, though. It was bad enough to remember the disappointment in Aunt Vic’s eyes; she didn’t want to see it in Marco’s as well.

“Sometimes it takes more courage to turn away from a fight than to start one,” Marco said.

Keira silently stroked Nagwa’s glossy black feathers. She didn’t feel like getting into a discussion about her past. There was no need to rehash it. The time for hiding in closets and feeling sorry for herself has passed.

She encouraged the raven to hop onto her wrist, then held him out in front of her and stared at the one black eye that was turned in her direction. “I have some questions for you, mister,” she said, mock stern.

The only answer she got was a soft caw and the raven continued to groom his feathers.

“There has to be a reason he showed up here,” Marco said.

“Well, when I was a child, he helped me in many ways. He used to spy on the maids and nannies for me. He would tell me when they were coming, so I could find places to hide.”

Marco looked at the raven. “Could you ask him to do that for us now?”

A loud caw erupted from the raven and he softly pecked at Keira’s hand.

“I think he already has,” Keira said. She looked around, then walked to the tent and sat down in front of it. “I will need a few minutes,” she said.

Marco nodded. “Do what you need to do, I’ll keep watch,” he said and walked a short distance off to a nearby tree trunk where he made himself comfortable.

Nagwa hopped onto Keira’s knee and cocked his head in her direction, staring his unblinking stare.

“Okay my friend, let’s see if we can still do this,” Keira whispered. Almost immediately she could feel that old, familiar stillness spread through her body. She allowed her gaze to soften as it rested on the raven, then she reached out with her thoughts, letting them wander at will.

At first, the images were blurred, hazy as if seen from a great distance. Then they sharpened and, as if floating above the scene, Keira watched Nagwa’s vision unfold.

A group of black cloaked figures crossed a river on small boats. Each figure accompanied by a snarling dog, monstrous in size and viciousness. The boats touched the opposite bank, people and dogs jumped out. As soon as their feet touched ground, howling erupted from all sides. Grey fur flashed past as the wolf pack attacked. Screams and growls mixed, and then it was quiet. Four figures ran back to a boat on the bank, chased by the powerful wolves. But the figures made it and rowed back across the river.

The scene shifted.

The groups they took leave of at the cave crossed the border into Germany at different places. Justin, holding Chloe and Rafael’s hands, walked into a hamlet.

Shift.

Somewhere else, Simone slipped into the passenger seat of a yellow sports car waiting in a layby near the woods and raced off in the direction of Frankfurt.

Shift.

Adam and Yoshi climbing down a rock face, walking into a Herberg and being welcomed by a friendly proprietor.

Shift.

Glimpses of Chetan’s shadow moving through the forest, at home in his surroundings, then getting into a small motorboat and drifting down a wide river.

Nagwa blinked and the connection between them was broken. Keira sank back, exhausted by the effort it took to maintain the link with the raven. She called out to Marco and waved him over.

“I saw Rafael, they are all right. Everyone crossed the border; they are on their way to Frankfurt.”

Marco’s shoulders slumped in relief. He wiped his hand over his face and Keira realised how concerned he must have been for his brother—his friends.

“There is more,” she continued. “He confirmed what Chloe saw. The first group that followed us had those monster dogs; they crossed the river at the same place we did, but the wolves were waiting. I don’t think any of the dogs survived, but four people made it back to a boat. They returned to the castle.”

“I could kiss that bird!” Marco grinned at Keira.

As if in answer, Nagwa flapped his wings and flew off to a tree out of reach. Marco and Keira burst out laughing, sharing the relief and joy of knowing their friends were safe.

“A glass of champagne would be nice right now,” Keira smiled.

“I’ll buy you a case of the best there is when this is over,” Marco promised.

“Add a box of chocolate éclairs to that and you’re on!” Keira accepted.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Marco said, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “But now, we have to get some rest. We have another long walk ahead of us tomorrow.”

Keira stood up and stretched her arms out above her head. Her muscles were stiff and she realised just how tired she was.

Marco crawled into the tent and lay down on one of the sleeping bags he had thrown open on the ground. Keira peeked in through the flap, hesitant to enter. Marco’s body filled the small space of the two-man tent and she had a sudden flash of memory of the glowing feeling between their palms.

“Come on,” he said, holding the flap open wider for her to enter.

She pretended to struggle with her boots’ laces, needing the time to calm her mind, then crawled into the tent. She couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift of his body away from her as she laid down on her sleeping bag.

It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.

She was annoyed at her confused feelings and his apparent need to put distance between them.

“Sleep well,” Marco said over his shoulder as he turned his back to her. Moments later she could hear his deep, even breathing.

Keira stared at the green waterproof nylon of the tent’s roof. How can he just fall asleep like that? Did she imagine the electricity between them when he touched her? Why did he then act as if she was a bee that had stung him? And it wasn’t the only time. At her mother’s party, in the closet, there was definitely something there. Or was there? And what was that ‘I’ll hold you to that’ comment all about?

Damn it Keira
, she silently scolded herself.
Get a grip!

Chapter 19

Deep in a misty valley in the Limpopo Province of South Africa, the drums were speaking. The old shaman sat cross-legged, lost in dreams. He didn’t feel the rough hair of the zebra skin underneath his naked buttocks, didn’t smell the smoke filling the hut, enveloping his body, and entering his nose.

The young boy who looked after the Dreamer put more leaves on red-hot coals in a fire pit at the centre of the hut.

“Modjadji…my queen…Modjadji.”

The boy concentrated on the Dreamer intensely. His small black face glistened with sweat from the heat inside the hut. He carefully put another bunch of leaves on the coals and crouched next to the old man.

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….”