One Great Year (5 page)

His caramel skin glistened in the speckled sunlight and his spongy curls almost touched his shoulders. Impulsively Theron stood up and, with one tug, dropped her airy white robe in a heap at her feet. There was only a brief moment before she slipped into the water next to Marcus, but that vision would be forever burned into his memory. It was the single most arousing moment of his life; to see her there, for the first time, free and naked. Her curves so perfectly long and lean, surrounded by the stunning blue and gold of the cenote. It was almost too much for him.

No amount of cool water could sate him. She came to him, her soft skin pressed against his, her mouth open before their lips met, and their hands explored one another. She felt his hardness against her and she floated into him. Instantly she felt the heat between her legs, the longing in her belly. Her second chakra burned and desire shot through her. Marcus's left hand slid tenderly from her hip up to her breast. Her nipple responded to his touch, swelling, and he brought his mouth to it. They held the edge of the pool for support and her free hand stroked his rippling shoulder. Soon they were kissing again, fevered and wet. Marcus was out of his mind with passion, overwhelmed with his love and longing for her.

“Now,” she whispered in his ear, kissing and licking it seductively. He looked at her, searching her face. He needed to be clear that they were ready—it was their first time. Marcus placed his hands on her hips, lifting her as she wrapped her strong limbs around his waist. This was the perfect connection, the ideal moment.

“STOP!” A tortured yell tore through the cave, startling the couple and shattering their blissful state.

The moment gone, they watched in shock as Helghul approached the pool's edge, his eyes wild. “Get away from her!” he ordered. Marcus didn't move, but before he could say anything Theron shouted at her classmate irritably.

“What are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?” she snapped. Helghul ignored the question and angrily rounded on her.

“You bring
this
to our spot?” he hissed. “You spoil yourself with … with
this
?” he spat, pacing the edge of the water, glowering at her. His jealousy twisted his thin face, and Theron was stunned by his vehemence.

“You need to leave NOW,” Marcus commanded. Theron placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Helghul please, just go,” Theron said more kindly. Helghul stopped pacing and glared at her, his pale face blotched with rage.

“You are unclean! Don't speak to me,” he hissed, spittle flying as he spoke. He was cut short as Marcus leapt out of the pool, his nakedness forgotten.

Despite Helghul's attempt to back away, Marcus's coiled knuckles crunched against the bone of his cheek. Helghul was thrown back by the blow, his counterpunch lost to the air as he stumbled.

“Stop!” Theron shouted. Marcus ignored her as she grabbed on to his bicep, both of them naked and dripping. “Marcus, let go! Let him go!” she shouted. Marcus backed the stumbling adversary to the water's edge and shoved him in.

“What is wrong with you?” Theron fumed, as she began to quickly pull her clothes back on.

“You're mad at
me
?” a disbelieving Marcus snapped in response.

Helghul began climbing out of the water, his sopping garments clinging to him. Theron's dress was awkwardly twisted and stuck to her as she instinctively reached out and offered Helghul her hand. As she bent toward him, he did the unthinkable. In a flash he backhanded her roughly across the face and sent her reeling on her haunches. Blood flowed from her nose as she skidded across the stone floor, landing on her tailbone. She was dumbfounded as blood and tears poured down her clinging dress. She had never been hit before. She had never been intentionally injured by anyone.

Before Theron could process what had happened, Marcus pounced on Helghul, who was now out of the water. They were wrestling on the stone floor, and Theron was shouting at them to stop, when Helghul unsheathed a small knife from the waist of his soaked clothing. He slashed at Marcus, opening a superficial gash in his right forearm. Marcus's eyes bulged at the realization of the weapon. He grappled with Helghul, ultimately sending the blade bouncing off the rock and into the deep water.

“ENOUGH!” A powerful voice boomed through the underground chamber, reverberating off the walls and simultaneously sending a debilitating telepathic screech that cut through their minds painfully. Marcus and Helghul let go of one another, bringing their hands to their ears in useless defense.

Grey Elder stared at the students angrily as they stumbled and pushed away from one another. The young men stood dirty and bleeding from miscellaneous scrapes and punches, and both avoided the intimidating gaze of the Elder. The older man was tall and extremely thin. He wore his silver hair shaved short, and his dark eyes showed little emotion. His face was red and his jaw was tightly clenched as he looked at the bloodied, miserable Theron and then back at the young men.

“Grey Elder …” Theron began.

“Say nothing, I have seen enough. I will bring this matter to the senate,” he said. “We have no time. You need to go prepare, the students have been summoned. You are to report to the Great Hall within the hour,” he said. Then, looking at Theron, he added, “Do not let your mother see you thus, Theron. It will distress her unduly.”

Theron marched angrily out of the cavern, and Marcus bumped against Helghul roughly as he passed to catch up to her. The young men sneered openly at one another, and Grey Elder took Helghul by the arm and steered him away.

“There is no time for your nonsense!” he hissed at the student, and Helghul shook his arm free but stared dejectedly at the ground.

Grey Elder was annoyed and deeply troubled. There was so much to do and the offspring of White Elder only added to his worries. When he arrived back at the senate chamber, Grey Elder solemnly conveyed the story to the other Elders.

White Elder's face clouded with concern and she asked after Theron. “What of my daughter, is she badly injured?” At that moment she was less spiritual leader and more distressed mother.

“She is well, White Elder. She is in her room changing her robes,” Grey Elder assured.

“This violence on the eve of the departure of the Emissaries … what does it mean? Can they be trusted on this odyssey?” Brown Elder questioned, folding her hands contemplatively.

“Perhaps they are not destined to become Emissaries?” the Elder of the Fourth Chakra proposed.

“Only the Great Spirit knows who will be chosen,” Red Elder replied.

“We must trust, we have no choice,” Grey Elder said.

“There is always choice,” Brown, White, and Red Elder chimed in unison.

“We should meditate,” another Elder suggested.

“We don't have time for this,” Grey Elder complained. “The reckoning time has come!”

“So our unity and acts of faith are more important than ever,” White Elder reasoned serenely. The Elders joined their hands and bowed their heads. Instantly a low hum and gentle glow surrounded them, and after a few minutes they broke apart.

“Gather the students but be mindful, my friends. We must take care not to panic our citizens. Fear is a powerful negative emotion and we have enough to deal with,” White Elder said. The Elders filed quickly out of the chamber, splintering off to gather the potential Emissaries.

As the Elders dispersed, a dry, neatly dressed Marcus arrived at Theron's private chamber. She opened the door for him, but she was aloof and said nothing. She had quickly showered and washed the blood away. Her nose had a nasty bruise but was not broken.

“Are you angry with me?” Marcus asked.

“You struck another being,” she said shortly, fatigue in her voice, but then added, “It's not your fault, it's mine. If we hadn't been there …”

“You can't mean that!” he said incredulously. “If Helghul hadn't been sneaking around none of this would have happened!” He was irritated by her inability to see Helghul in a realistic light.

“You didn't have to attack him. I wasn't badly hurt!” she chastised. “He's just jealous and misguided, can't you see that?”

“Poor Helghul? He hit you! With all of your intuition and still you can't see him for what he is!”

“And what is that? He's not a monster, Marcus! He loved me and I didn't know it. I walked around competing and throwing sarcasm at him, and I never realized until it was too late that I had led him on somehow.”

“Led him on? That's ridiculous! Everyone loves you, Theron, do you lead them all on?”

“Be
compassionate,
Marcus! We should both have been more sensitive. You don't make it easier, holding my hand in class just to show off and torment him.”

“And the knife, Theron? Is that our fault too?”

“Of course not!” she snapped.

Theron had always defended Helghul, but she had never seen him so brutal and hateful. She remembered the look in his eyes just before he hit her and she was devastated; she had felt all of his loathing and contempt as if it were her own. And there was more—when he had been unguarded, she had slipped into his mind and seen terrible thoughts. She prayed that she was mistaken.

“Let's not fight. We have to meet in the Great Hall soon,” Marcus soothed, reaching to take her in his arms. Her rigid body stubbornly did not yield to him, and after a moment she moved away. Even in her aloofness the touch of her flesh against him made Marcus stir, and instantly he flashed back to the image of her naked and sliding into the water next to him.

“Have you thought about why they must have called this gathering?” she asked, but before Marcus could answer there was a loud knock on her door.

“The time has come,” a page's voice rang out.

The couple looked at one another in anticipation, so unsure of what lay ahead and anxious to hear what the Elders would tell them. Theron turned to leave and, in her haste, did not notice Marcus reaching for her hand. He dropped his hands to his sides and double stepped to join her in the hallway. They walked in silence to the senate chamber, their curiosity growing with each step.

The citizens of Atitala were unaware that the prophesied time of the Emissaries had come. The sky had grown red and stormy. An uncharacteristically cold wind bent the nearby palms and whipped at their clothing as the young students made their way to the meeting in a steady stream.

Marcus and Theron entered the Great Hall, relieved to be out of the wind, which chilled them through their flimsy tropical garments. They joined the group of nearly three thousand already assembled, greeting familiar friends and faces. Theron's nose was noticeably red and swollen, and Marcus had concealed his scabbing forearm with long sleeves. A number of people looked at them curiously, but the couple pretended not to notice. White Elder sat visible to all on a raised platform surrounded by the other Elders, rather than on her formal throne. She was relieved when she saw her daughter enter looking only slightly damaged after the still-unexplained encounter.

The room was alive with speculation and excitement but became silent when White Elder rose to speak.

“Good students, respected Elders, welcome. It is no secret that the decline into the dark days has begun. From among you there shall be chosen a brigade—Emissaries who will be called upon to be the keepers of the secrets and who will go forth into the world of man as beacons of hope and light. From among you the Emissaries will come. Only those who prove themselves worthy in the tasks ahead will be chosen. Only those who then accept this path will go. Each of you should go now and meditate on your role in this world. Ask for guidance and listen to your inner voice. Sleep well, for tomorrow it shall be clear who has been chosen.”

“That's it?” Marcus grumbled. “They brought us all here to tell us they will decide tomorrow who will be chosen. What was the point?”

“Seriously Marcus, I am starting to wonder if you listen at all!” Theron said, shaking her head.

“What did I do now?”

“They told us to meditate. They told us that the answers and guidance in our path will come … sometimes you are like one of the children.”

“There's nothing wrong with playing once in a while,” Marcus said, moving closer like he would sweep her up. Theron jerked away and resisted the smile that threatened to escape her. He was a good balance for her. He reminded her that she needed to embrace adventure.

Marcus was relieved when Theron slipped her hand into his and aimed them toward her chamber. They walked, contemplating what possible tasks the Elders would have them perform to prove their worthiness as Emissaries.

“Definitely something with the mind games … telepathy … maybe demonstrating how far we've come in mastering our energy?” Marcus guessed.

“I am sure they will ask questions about the Emerald Tablet. Mother said we will be the keepers of the secret. It is the most sacred text, the understanding of the Source and the Universe; it must be a part of the choosing,” Theron speculated.

“You'll be chosen for sure,” Marcus said, suddenly stopping.
What if I'm not?
he asked, switching to the more intimate telepathic communication.

Oh Marcus, don't be ridiculous. You're underestimating yourself again
, Theron broadcasted wordlessly, sending her irritation clearly with the response.

Would you stay with me?
Marcus asked, still not moving as Theron continued to walk ahead. Theron did not turn to look at him because she could not give him the reassurance he sought. She couldn't promise or answer him honestly in that moment. He did not want to know. She hid her thoughts, hid her uncertainty, and spoke out loud.

“You will be chosen and so will I. Now stop this and walk me home,” she said. Marcus said no more, and they continued on in silence.