One Great Year (6 page)

Theron sent Marcus away with a brief kiss, distracted by her thoughts. He jogged the short distance to his chamber; there was no one else he needed to visit.

Marcus's room was cozy but small compared to the opulence of White Elder's family dwelling, but he liked that he was so close to Theron. Marcus was happy there. He didn't require much. He paced the tiny room, absentmindedly rubbing the tender, scabby wound on his arm and wondering about the tasks he would soon face. He continued to worry that Theron would be chosen and he would not.

Marcus took a seat on a fine woven carpet in the center of the room and lit a candle, preparing to meditate. He tried to clear his thoughts and still his breathing, but images of Theron naked as she had entered the cenote flashed mercilessly through his mind. The tortured young man became aroused beyond comfort at the memory of his love's body standing on the edge of the beautiful water. They had been so close. They had almost made love for the first time, something Marcus had imagined and fantasized about for years. Theron had always adamantly put him off. She had stopped him with an explanation about spiritual growth and being ready for their paths to converge. He was ready. He was so ready he was afraid he would internally combust.

It was many hours before Marcus was finally able to meditate. His mind was too full and his body was experiencing ripples of rage, violent feelings that he had never experienced. He had no frame of reference to understand them. He was torn between doing the right thing and wanting to avenge Theron's honor and her injury. When he finally let himself drift into his higher consciousness he felt relaxed and peaceful, but he finished after an hour without having received any clear message.

Across the compound at nearly the same time, Helghul had just awakened from a startlingly vivid dream. In the dream he had found himself on a precipice in the quarry looking down on Marcus and Theron as they swam. The dream was identical to the events of three months earlier—every sound, every bird's chirp, and the rumble of the stones. Helghul once again stood above a desperate, scrambling Marcus, but this time he acted. He did not stay motionless and watch. In his dream Helghul changed the outcome.

When the rock slide first began, Helghul felt the sensation that he had already been there, that he was in dream state, and he understood that he could control the flow of the rocks. In his unconscious he had the authority to make the rocks fall or be still. Helghul was intoxicated with his power, and when he saw Marcus and Theron swimming below, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. His conscience called to him and he disregarded the warning.

It's a dream, I cannot be held to account
, he reasoned. Helghul released the avalanche and gloried in the destruction. When Marcus clambered onto the rocks, Helghul rewrote the script and released a second, more devastating landslide, crushing his reviled classmate in the rubble below. He stared down at the mayhem that he had unleashed, and he gloried in the supremacy of his will and mind.

Suddenly, he heard a deep male voice say, “Citizen!” and he woke with a jolt. The scene melted away, and Helghul felt panic and excuses bubbling out of him though there was no one near to listen.

“Citizen?” he repeated, unsure what the dream meant but afraid to wonder.

A bridge away, Theron was stretching and contemplating what she would do if either she or Marcus was not chosen. She leaned hard into her slender muscles as they burned and resisted. She remembered the darkness she had seen in Helghul's eyes and the shock she had felt when he had hit her.

Unable to relax, Theron played complex tunes on her harp-like instrument. She plucked the sensitive strings indelicately, and her music was unusually poor. Marcus had upset her with his self-doubt, and the call for the Emissaries coupled with the violence earlier in the cenote turned all thoughts into brushfire in her head.

Theron meditated as instructed and, despite the incredible energy vortex that she was able to summon, her messages were of a common nature. She saw the lights and colors that always soothed and warmed her. She felt the sensation of floating and swaying and even spinning as if in an eddy herself. She felt the euphoric acceptance and confirmation that she was on the right path, that she was working toward clarity and light. She saw the faces of her Elders, of spirits, perhaps of lifetimes before, but there was no message of a dire nature. There was no call to service or secret code. There was nothing that told her she would or would not be chosen as an Emissary. She reluctantly retired to bed, confused by the lack of communication.

Theron was not asleep long when she found herself aware in her unconscious and floating outside of her flesh-and-bone frame. An ethereal lifeline connected her to her sleeping human form, and it shimmered and swayed in the starry evening light like a silver fish-scaled string. Theron stared down at her shell for a moment, awed, as always, to see her body motionless and remarkable as she astral traveled. She willed herself up and out beyond the bounds of the city, and she soared into the heavens as other light beings darted past.

Theron had not been out long when she heard a familiar voice in her head. It was Marcus—he was speaking to her telepathically. She scanned the star filled sky in excitement; this had never happened before. In the distance she saw him and her heart leapt with joy. He had done it! Marcus had finally tapped into his deepest unconscious and he had joined her in astral travel. Their spirits rushed together like a gust of wind, and they circled one another in greeting and recognition. Their thoughts flew easily back and forth.

How did you do it?
Theron marveled. Marcus noticed all of the other colorful spirits speckling the heavens around them, and he remarked in astonishment.

There are so many others! Is it like this all the time?
he asked.

Theron confirmed it was. The feeling of being outside his body was thrilling. Marcus felt the temperatures—cold, warm, and hot—all at once. He felt like chili peppers had been rubbed on his skin, even though his physical self was far below him. Theron directed their spirits upward and together they shed the atmosphere of the Earth, still tethered by their glistening, infinite cords to their bodies back home.

When the Grid opened up before them Marcus gasped at the beauty. It was heaven—a paradise of lights, music, and awareness. The couple darted up and down the loops and circles like sparks in an electric current. The fractal
⁶
geometric shapes bloomed and receded in a kaleidoscopic display of mathematical perfection.

Marcus, I want to try something, something I have only heard about
, Theron communicated excitedly. Marcus circled and dipped, waiting. With a thought and intention Theron crossed through Marcus and completely immersed her spirit in his. It was the ultimate spiritual union, not just the comingling of auras but the touching of souls. It was Oneness unimaginable in human form. Only material, Earthbound creatures had the illusion of solitary, loneliness, and separation. The ecstasy and beauty of their union was indescribable.

The loud and distinct clash of a gong reverberated with an “A” note through their bound spirits, interrupting them. Theron retreated and Marcus's soul cried out.

Come back. Forever come back
, he begged.

We need to return, Marcus. The dawn is breaking and the choosing of the Emissaries is near
, she said, looking toward the horizon.

Stay with me. This place is perfection. We have no reason to ever go back
, Marcus contended.

We must go back Marcus, we are needed.

I won't go. I will wait here and meet you any time you come. That way it won't matter if I am chosen as an Emissary, you can come to me
, Marcus reasoned.

I will be reborn and reincarnated; I may never have the skill to return here again.

All the more reason you should stay
, Marcus said, still following her. As the sun rose higher in the distance Marcus followed Theron closer to home.

How will we ever lead others to this place if we keep it for ourselves?
Theron answered, and she swiftly made her way to Earth and to her chamber, knowing that Marcus would certainly do the same.

“Marcus, citizen! Theron, Emissary!” a loud male voice boomed, and Theron woke in her bed with a jolt. Had it been a dream or had they astral traveled?

Citizen … Emissary—she had heard the verdict clearly. Theron trembled with the idea of it. She had to talk to Marcus immediately. He could confirm if they had traveled or if it had all been a dream; but then, she wondered if it mattered. Marcus, citizen. Theron, Emissary. It could only mean one thing.

Theron jumped up to dress, then rushed out into the glimmering pink sunrise. Marcus was not far away. She had to knock twice before he opened the door, disheveled and bleary-eyed from a night of little sleep.

“Did you astral travel last night?” Theron blurted out as Marcus led her inside.

“What? No, I don't think so,” Marcus said, reaching to push her tangled hair from her face.

“Marcus, either you did or you didn't. You would know!” she snapped impatiently.

“Whoa, what is this? What happened?”

“I had a dream, I think it was a test, it was pass–fail. In the end, you were labeled citizen but I was labeled Emissary,” Theron said desperately. Marcus looked stricken as he stared at her.

“I failed? Citizen? Why?” he asked.

“You begged me to stay … to stay in the Grid, and I said no,” she said, crying as Marcus put his arms around her and led her to sit on his narrow bed.

“It was a dream, Theron. I wasn't there. I couldn't have failed if I wasn't there,” Marcus reasoned.

“Did you … have a dream?” Theron asked hopefully; her green eyes glowed with tears.

“No, I didn't,” he said. Theron rested her head on him, unsure what to think. Surely Marcus would not be judged for her dream … or would he? What did it mean?

A piercing trumpet suddenly pealed through the air, startling the distraught pair and preventing them from ruminating over her dream further. It was time. Theron ran to the door and threw it open. Things had begun to go horribly wrong. She shouted at Marcus to follow her.

Outside, the sky had grown dark and sinister, and sheets of rain battered the city. Buildings had begun to crumble and fall, and Theron knew intuitively that they must get to the wharf as soon as possible. Through the deafening wind and noise she shouted to him. The couple ran the two miles to the port, circling on the curved roads and passing over the canal bridge as it disintegrated behind them and fell into the now surging canal below. All around them people were running and yelling, and Theron sensed their fear but was unable to help.

When they arrived at the wharf White Elder was there, and she was ordering students in different directions—some onto the waiting boats and others back toward the Great Hall. A fork of lightning shattered the ominous sky, and the queue of students trembled as the thunder shook the Earth. The students were soaked through to the skin and shivered as they huddled in the bitter wind, waiting to be sorted.

“Theron, at last. Load on the boat, daughter. Hurry,” White Elder directed. “Marcus, go back to the city, I will return there shortly.”

“NO!” Theron screamed, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “No!”

“He has not been chosen, Theron,” White Elder shouted over the din. The winds were increasing and she crouched slightly to steady herself.

“Stay with me, Theron!” Marcus shouted, as two surly men were summoned by a nod from White Elder and began to lead him forcibly away.

“Mother, please!” Theron cried, nearly hysterical as she watched Marcus being dragged farther and farther from her.

“You must choose if you are a keeper of the secrets. Will you become an Emissary? There is not much time!”

“Let him join me, please!”

“I cannot. It is not for me to say. You must choose!” White Elder commanded, as the tempest worsened.

Theron ran to Marcus. He was released by those holding him, and she flew into his arms. Marcus held her, crying into her hair without speaking. Theron held him but after a moment took a step back.

“I have to go!” she shouted through the chaos. Marcus looked as though she had hit him. Water ran in thick streams down their faces.

“You can't leave me,” he cried, gripping her thin arms harder than he realized.

“I must!” she replied, twisting her body to free herself of his grasp.

“Emissary!” the deep baritone voice called, and Theron bolted upright in her bed, rescued, saved from the torture of her dream. She was soaked from head to toe with sweat, and her tangled hair clung in damp clumps to her skin. She had been put out of her misery at the first possible second—in the first moment that it was clear she had made a choice, Theron had been allowed to wake.

A dream within a dream
, she marveled, shaking. She had been chosen as an Emissary. She was certain of that. Theron wondered if Marcus had dreamed, or astral traveled, or anything at all. It had all been dreams, and he was still safely asleep across the courtyard in his bed.

Theron looked out the window into the calm night. It was hours until dawn and Atitala slept peacefully, but she was unwilling to close her eyes and risk more dreams.

When Marcus finally slept, he had two powerfully vivid dreams. First he dreamed of astral travel, traveling the Grid and finding Theron there. Their souls united; he bathed in her light until the sound of a gong suddenly pulled him back into his body. He awakened from that dream with a start, excited and overwhelmed with his love for Theron, his skin vibrating with their energy. It took a while to fall back asleep, and then his second dream came like a tigress waiting to pounce.

He was back in the cenote. This time he was alone. The sun gleamed through the earthen ceiling above him, dancing in silver circles on the still blue water. Marcus was hot; so hot it was as though he were sitting in front of a roaring fire rather than in a cool underground cave. The water tempted him, but he felt as though he must not go in. Something inside warned him: a voice, an instinct. Marcus suddenly noticed that there was a water jug dripping with condensation across the beckoning pool.