Guardians of the Akasha (18 page)

“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.

“Oh, okay,” Keira said faintly.

“So, you know what’s been happening?” Marco asked the old woman.

“Yes, I know. My messengers have been busy the past few weeks.” Cassandra reached out and clasped Keira’s hand in her own. “I am so sorry about Victoria’s death, dear child. She was a truly remarkable woman.”

“You knew Aunt Vic?” Keira asked. She wasn’t as surprised as she probably should be. Nothing seemed to surprise her anymore.

“Yes, she spent time with me when she was a bit younger than you are now. So did The One before her, and The One before, and so on,” Cassandra said and waved her hand vaguely through the air.

“But, you can’t possibly be that old!” Keira exclaimed.

“Oh, thank you. You are such a darling child!” Cassandra threw her head back and laughed a big belly laugh.

“Then this is the place she told me about, the place I was supposed to bring Keira,” Marco asked.

Cassandra was still chuckling and wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Yes young man, this is the place. And a jolly good job you’ve done of it as well. Well done, both of you!”

Cassandra turned towards Keira again and continued: “In this dimension, time and distance are irrelevant. Both can be bent and shaped, which explains why I am so young and so old at the same time.”

“But isn’t that exactly what Daemon is trying to do?” Keira asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Ah, I see Victoria was able to give you at least some information,” Cassandra replied. “No child, it is not the same. What we do here is limited to this dimension. The Akasha, however, connects everything in the Universe together; it includes all the dimensions, not only yours. If Daemon manages to enter the Akasha and alter time, it would have a ripple effect throughout the Universe, and that would be a
very
bad thing. For
all
of us.”

Keira looked over at Marco; he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. He slowly pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Thank you again, Cassandra,” he said.

The old woman bowed her head graciously in acknowledgement.

“Keira, I will come and get you when Cassandra lets me know you’re ready.”

“That won’t be necessary Marco. I will take her where she needs to be when the time is right,” Cassandra replied calmly.

“What do you mean? You’re joking right?” Keira got up as well.

“This is what Victoria wanted, what she said would happen. I can’t stay here. You are in good hands and there are things that I have to do…outside…to prepare. The Families are in danger.”

Keira wanted to scream, “
Screw the Families!
” but she stayed silent, glaring at him in disbelief. “So, you’re leaving,” she said. “Fine.”

I don’t need you. I’ll find my own way back.

Marco looked at her for a long moment, lifted his hand as if he didn’t know whether to shake hers or touch her cheek, then turned and left the room without a word. Keira and Cassandra followed to the cabin’s front door and stood on the porch as Marco swung himself onto the back of the black horse waiting for him. He gave a last wave and took off in a flurry of dust kicked up by the horse’s hooves. The white horse grazed off to one side and whinnied a greeting as his friend and the man passed by.