The Last Queen of Lemuria (2 page)

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7*
    
Chapter Two. On the banks of the Katun River

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Friday morning greeted the travelers with a bright sun. Margo, Nastia, Andrei, and Marina and Boris Sorok settled into the "UAZ” (translator's note: a Soviet jeep-style vehicle). Finally, the thin Altai man threw his backpack in:

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"Hello!" – he said.  – "I will be your instructor for the river tour. Does everyone know that we're going rafting? My name is Samir. Let's get to know each other!"

Samir's long hair was put back in a ponytail, his eyes were black, without pupils; they looked like agates, and when he stared at you, it seemed he could see through to your very heart. He paused to look at each member of the group, taking his time as if he was studying them, enough to make them all uncomfortable. Even Margarita couldn't hold these strange eyes for longer than a few seconds though. She turned away and frowned.  She didn't like this Altai man.  Under his gaze, she immediately lost her normal assuredness.

The "UAZ" drove along the country road. Fields and hills flashed by outside the windows.   The vehicle was tossing from side to side.  The inside of the "UAZ" was quickly filling with dust. The driver, between cursing the potholes, tapped furiously at the radio which was intermittently playing old prison songs.

Marina was sitting next to the driver, and kept him occupied with conversation. Her sharp, round eyes were closely following her new friend's face, or to be more accurate, his ear, because he had to watch the road. Marina's endless chatter poured into the driver's ear. Few could stand her manner of jabbering on in a shrill voice. The driver already thought one hundred times that he should never have let her sit next to him.  Marina has a bird's nose- thin, with a crooked tip. From under her straw hat, there were ten very thin red braids, decorated with beads. She flapped her sleek, long-fingered hands like wings.  In fact, you could say her last name, Sorok (translator's note: “Sorok” means “magpie” in Russian) fit her perfectly. Her bizarre hairstyle complimented her attire- a t-shirt with the Dalai Lama and blue, polka-dotted shorts. On her shoulder you could just make out a tattoo of the Chinese yin-yang. A fan of mysticism and the esoteric, she saw signs everywhere, and lived exclusively by the will of the "Higher Powers."

Any sane person would long ago snapped, if they were in the position of her husband Boris.

But, to Marina's happiness, her husband was quite indulgent to her strange habits, considering them "women's whims."

Boris was sitting a little way off- a strong, balding man, with a stern face. It was easy to guess that he was a mediocre businessman.  Calm, taciturn,  and not especially intellectual, but not deprived of a feeling of self-worth. In the unbuttoned collar of his sport coat glistened a talisman with the image of a scorpion, obviously, a gift from his wife. Boris thoughtfully devoured pelmeni (translator's note: A Russian ravioli-type food, associated with mass-production) from a can, which made the inside of the car smell like a cafeteria, and looked glumly in his wife's direction. He didn't share Marina's interests, but he'd always respected her ability to talk for a long time without getting tired. He couldn't talk more than two minutes in a row.

In other words, they were a happy couple. The only thing they fought about was kids. Boris wanted kids. Marina would instantly close herself off as soon as the subject came up.  She herself didn't understand why, but the thought of a child gave her a  strange  sadness in her heart.

Andrei, a slim, curly-headed student secretly took pictures of Margo, pretending to be interested in the beauty of the roadside.  "He has the face of a heroic soldier from an old movie," said Margo, summing the boy up in one glance. – "His face is just too well-formed." He had honest gray eyes in glasses, a solid chin, and a dark beard, cut short. He is a complicated guy, or maybe rather, sporty.

Nastia glanced furtively at Andrei, but he didn't notice her, taking endless pictures with his camera.

- "Look!" he suddenly exclaimed, pointing out the window, "look!"

The road had already risen quite high into the mountains. A river flowed down below. A man was running along its bank. He was dressed in white and carrying a staff. But it was not only his strange attire that attracted Nastia's attention. The man was running in a strange manner, as if he was gliding along the earth. He was going as fast as a car! It was as if this strange man was rolling on something very low to the ground and pushing himself along with his staff... or flying. He had a bluish glow about him.

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"He's wearing roller-skates," said Andrei.

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"How could he be on roller-skates?! Look at that riverbank! There is nothing but fallen trees everywhere!" – objected Margo.

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"He's flying! Flying! That's the Mahatma of Shambhala!" – cried out Marina, her pale face becoming even more white.

Boris gagged.

The driver glanced warily at Marina. And she whispered a mantra, clasping her hands together:

  – "Gate gate paragate bodhi svaha..."

Margo and Nastia giggled.

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"What's this? What about a matchmaker?” (translator's note: "svaha" is Russian for matchmaker) – said the driver, taken aback.

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"Mara, cut it..." said Boris, wagging his finger at his wife, "don't you... understood?" – and he added: "the man in white is riding on something, we just can't see it."

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"What's he riding on?" asked Nastia, looking at the stranger.

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"He's lit up or something," – said Andrei, not taking his eyes off the riverbank,  "he looks like he's from India."

The river turned away from the road. The man became hidden from view.  They all turned at once to Samir.

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"Who was that?!"

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"How should I know," answered the instructor. He took off his hat and wiped away the sweat that had suddenly appeared on his face. His eyes became totally opaque.

The driver interrupted the conversation:

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"It's probably a pilgrim. There's a lot of them around here. They're looking for Shambhala. The Country of Happiness, in their language. They say there's eternal life there and all that good stuff. We call them the Roerichites. Roerich is the last name of one of their important figures- he knows a lot about that Shambhala. Briskly clever, that one."

Marina looked at the driver with respect.

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"I see," smiled Nastia, "Roerich really did come here."

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"But all the same, what was he riding on?” –  asked Margo.

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"It was the Mahatma!" - said Marina. – "He was flying. The Supreme Spirit of Shambhala. This is a sacred place.”

The traveling companions looked at one another. Boris frowned, but said nothing.

Marina shrugged her shoulders. She was used to skeptics by this point.

9*
    
The river seemed unreal. It was a piercing, light-blue, with crystal water. The kind of river imagined by a child who believes in fairy-tales.  The rays of sunlight pierced the water in a golden grid all the way to the bottom.  The Katun river was calm, but carried its waters through the little  Altai villages, eternal mountains, dark fossilized forests, and bright tents filled with tourists, scattered in many spots along the  riverbanks.

10*
 
Silence and beauty reigned on its low banks. Dark blue-green mountains, like broad-shouldered giants surrounded the river on all sides, carefully embracing it with large stone hands, covered with pine trees. And all around, the protected land bloomed. Just as it's always been here.  Be it one hundred, one thousand or ten thousand years ago... That thought is breathtaking on its own, and for any person who's coming here for the first time, it feels that you are blending with  Time itself.

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12*
 
A small camp stretched out on one of the banks. Four tents stood in a circle. Not so far away, on the sand, lay an inflatable boat, covered in huge drops of morning dew. Life-jackets and helmets had been dumped nearby. By an old, crooked pine, there was an extinguished fire smoldering, with a tea kettle hanging over it. There were two large boxes piled beside it, covered with foil.  The tents, and the trees shined trough the white fog of the river, and it was all covered by the pink-gold morning. The night, not yet having succeeded in obscuring the Moon and a few stars, hurried to run away from the unbearable light. Morning spilled its fantastic color on the earth, and released the music of birdsong.

13*
 
One of the tents came to life, and a moment later, a young woman's face appeared in the door. Rubbing her eyes, Nastia stopped, struck by the beauty of the morning. For several seconds she looked from side to side, and afterwards, turned to the tent:

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“Margo! Margo! Wake up! Come look at the beautiful sunrise!"

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"Uhhh," came her discontented answer.

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“Margo! Have you seen the sunrise in the mountains?”

The sleeping bag next to her growled a negative.

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"Then wake up right away! This beauty is why we live on earth!"

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"I want to sleep!"

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"Come on, we'll go skinny dipping. While everyone else is still asleep, huh?"

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"Give up."

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“Margo, come on! Margie! Time to get up!”

The bag took a heavy sigh, stirred a bit, and sat up. A disheveled head with closed eyes appeared:

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"Nastia, you could wake the dead."

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"Well, did you come here to sleep?"

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"With you, I can only nap." Margo slowly unstuck her eyelids and crawled out of the tent.  "I can't believe you!"

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"What did I say? Let's go!"

Hiding in the bushes, they  quickly undressed and got into the water. Their skin burned with the cold. The girls let out twin "ah"s in chorus. They quickly dunked their heads under the water and raced to the shore.

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"Nice!" – laughed Margo, flicking droplets of water from her body.

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"Cool! It's like swimming in living water!  My whole body is burning," confirmed Nastia. And added, looking at Margo, "you're such a knockout, Rita!"

Sympathy stirred in Margo's eyes. Casting her gaze on the thin, almost child-like silhouette of her friend, she said,

- "If only you'd listen to me, we could make a perfect ten out of you.. Look, you've got great skin and hair.. A bit of makeup, some shopping..."

Nastia blushed at Margo's stare:

- "Stop it! You know I'm not into that stuff."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps. The friends weren't quite able to get covered up. Andrei came out of the bushes with his camera around his neck. Seeing the naked girls, he was thunderstruck. Nastia threw on a towel. Her face became covered in purple spots.

- "So, what? Are you feeling this?” – asked the nude Margo.

Andrei muttered something, averting his gaze.  He turned in place, and rushed headlong back into the bushes.

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"Where are you going, Andrei!" – screamed Margo, "don't you want to take a picture?"

-     "Margo! Don't!" - pleaded Nastia.

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"He was quite embarrassed!" Margo grinned.

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"He's a decent person, that's all!" - growled Nastia. Her eyes became a very dark blue. – "He saw us naked and got embarrassed! It's normal! Get it? It's a nor-mal re-ac-tion!”

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"What's got you all fired up?"

Margo looked carefully at her friend.

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"Have you got a crush on him or something? Huh? You've got a crush! I say go for it! He's a typical nerd. Oh the things a simple pair of glasses can do! He looks like our Physics professor, remember her, Klava Eduardovna? That's why he's afraid of women. And do you think he's ever seen naked women before? I've found who you've got a crush on. I'm figuring you out..."