One Great Year (9 page)

“Not traded, connected. I felt all of you and me both, simultaneously,” he corrected gently.

“We are spiritually bonded,” she said, hugging him closely.

“Forever,” he said lovingly.

“Forever,” she replied.

He looked down at her, her eyelids heavy and full of passion, and pulled her up to him. He kissed her deeply and turned his body to meet hers directly on. She felt his excitement, and it increased as she pushed as closely to him as she could. They kissed and touched eagerly through their clothing, his hand rubbing and urging her on. She stroked his chest and ran her hand firmly down his body, stopping between his legs and holding him, so excited, so ready.

Marcus was nearly out of his mind when Theron released him and slowly moved away. She stood up, and he reached out to stop her. She tenderly moved his hands away and, instead of stepping back or taking a break as she would have done in the past, crossed her arms in front of her and took hold of her robe by either hip. She pulled the garment easily over her head, and the action lifted her thick, tawny hair and sent it cascading down her naked shoulders.

She stood smiling down at him, the firelight licking her freckled skin, just as he desired to do. He feverishly reached out to touch her. He sat on the edge of the settee now, his hands on her hips. She stood in front of him and he pressed his lips to the flat, soft skin of her belly. He moved down, kissing, licking, and pleasing her. She made small sounds, her breathing quickening, her hands stroking his hair and shoulders.

She whispered that she was ready. They had waited so long, so many years; their energy was undeniable and eternally connected. They shifted to the sofa, kissing lovingly and holding each other tightly so that their skin touched in every way possible. They moaned in pleasure as he entered her.

They found themselves exactly in the moment, not worried about the past or future. She opened her eyes and—whoosh!—there was a tug right at the core of her. He felt it too, and their spirits and energies mingled and twisted. He closed his eyes, trying to stay there forever, to make it last forever.
I don't have words for this
, she thought.

“I love you,” he said. It was a total connection and an explosion of energy. They knew that they had always known each other. She wrapped herself around him and sent her soul deliberately deep into him. She felt his colors reaching back to her, sending her everything.

“I love you,” she answered. They stayed close and touching long after the climax had come and gone.

As time passed, Marcus became more and more anxious. A feeling of impending doom plagued him, and though he tried to replace it with a soothing lightness and the memory of their lovemaking, he could not.

“This is so perfect. It's not too late to change our minds. Can't we just stay like this forever?” Marcus coaxed, stroking her hair.

Theron shook her head and sighed. She was tired and her mother would be ready for their walk. She took his hand and brought his inner wrist to her lips.

“This kiss holds all my love for you, my dreams for us. You're my soulmate. We are connected to one another forever.” She rested her petal-soft lips gently against him, and he cradled her closely with his other arm.

The lovers lay on the sofa together, their bodies entwined—feet, arms, legs. So happy to have their skin touching. Theron soon fell asleep against him, her soft breath against his neck. He lay still, not wanting to wake her, and watched the firelight dance across her angular face. A light knock at the door interrupted his reverie, and Theron stirred groggily and then jumped to attention.

“Oh Marcus! You let me sleep? Hurry, get dressed!” she scolded in a whisper, as she grabbed her discarded robe off the floor and pulled it over her head.

“Marcus, she'll see you!”

“She knows we are together, Theron,” Marcus whispered, pulling on his pants.

White Elder knocked at her chamber door more loudly, and a disheveled Theron slipped out, leaving Marcus behind, half dressed.

It was now early afternoon, and with the mother and daughter off for a final stroll, Marcus was left alone. He waited for a while, but then grew bored and decided he would come back later when Theron returned. She was upset at the prospect of leaving her mother, and he wanted to be there to console her.

As Marcus walked through the courtyard around the Great Hall, he saw some of the other Emissaries literally vibrating with excitement. Marcus's apprehension continued to mount, and he couldn't help but think they were naïve, innocents being led to the slaughter, and yet they marched happily forward like ants to a feast. He saw the heavy burden they carried even if they did not.

As Marcus made his way to his own chamber, a satisfied grin firmly planted on his face, he caught sight of Helghul and noticed that he was heading in the direction opposite of his own home.
What's he up to now, always slinking about?
Marcus wondered. Suddenly, having no other interest to occupy him, he decided to follow.

Marcus was cautious, remembering the episode with the knife and uncertain how unpredictable Helghul might be. More than once Marcus was almost noticed: first walking across the central canal bridge when there was little to camouflage him, and then again while gliding behind his classmate over the jungle. Marcus had been forced to steer his glider dangerously low into the shadowed canopy to avoid detection as he followed Helghul out of the city and ultimately to the banks of the quarry.

Marcus assumed that Helghul was returning to the tunnels near the secret cenote, but he could not imagine why. The young man's body pulsated with curiosity and adrenaline as he passed over the location where Theron had almost drowned. Marcus loved a good mystery, and he was certain that Helghul was hiding something.

The Exodus

His glider discarded, Marcus had to move quickly to keep Helghul in sight as he navigated expertly through the labyrinth of tunnels and caves in the mountainside. They had already passed the glowing cenote as they delved deeper into the Earth. Innumerable colonies of bats slept, squeaked, and flew through the caverns. Marcus flinched as a tough, bony wing brushed his cheek.

The smell of bat feces was overwhelming, and Marcus covered his mouth and nose in disgust. He tried to keep his steps as light as possible and was aware of the movement and life skittering around him in the darkness. Helghul's light source disappeared ahead many times, and Marcus had almost become lost in the overwhelming obscurity more than once. He listened for Helghul's footfalls and cursed his own unpreparedness.

As they wound deeper into the rocky maze, Marcus grew concerned. What if he got lost? What if Helghul had seen him and was leading him into a trap? How would he find his way out? Who knew what danger might lie ahead or what creature he could encounter? Marcus's skin prickled and burned as each hair and follicle bristled at attention. He was rushing to keep pace and held his arm bent over his head at eye level to warn of rock outcroppings, since the light was almost always only a flicker turning through the low, narrow passageway in the distance. He was almost bent in half and wondered if he should turn back from his reckless pursuit.

The tunnel narrowed further, and Marcus hurried as Helghul disappeared through a ridiculously small opening approximately two yards up the wall. Ignoring the sticky foulness of the bat feces and knowing that the rock face was rife with spiders and other creatures, Marcus pressed his body against the stone and found foot and hand holds. He then boosted himself up and cautiously emerged through the opening, which was only just large enough to allow his broad shoulders entry.

Marcus pulled himself up and was standing on a steep precipice. Below him was an open, circular pit that likely had an entrance from the other side of the mountain. It had obviously once been excavated, and he noticed the glimmer of residual atlantium crystal on the surrounding cliffs as the firelight danced in shadows. The hollowed cavern had no natural light but was illuminated by five large torches evenly spaced around the circumference.

Marcus heard the loud murmur of voices, and as his eyes traveled down the cave walls he was stunned to see the unusual and substantial congregation gathered below. Beneath each of the torches stood an enormous male Nephilim looking more harsh and menacing than ever. Each wore extravagant leather armor braided with silver and gold.

There were hundreds of humans, including Helghul. There were both women and men, and Marcus recognized most of them. They were all students, and he wondered which of them had been chosen as Emissaries, if any, and what business they could possibly have in this pit.

Helghul seemed to have a position of importance among the group. As he passed, each individual bowed to him in respect. On his order, the group began to chant, focusing on the chromatic notes. The inharmonious chant grated on Marcus, and he rolled his head on his neck to shake out the tension that had gathered in his body. He gritted his teeth as the dark intonation continued and grew louder. He had never heard anything like the hum that vibrated through him, the air, and the earth, reaching the darkness just below.

Marcus's instincts were warning that he should flee, but his curiosity would not permit it. He was determined to see what Helghul was up to. It was a decision he would eventually regret many times.

Suddenly, the eavesdropper's attention was drawn by a burst of light to the opening through which he had just come. Marcus shifted as far as he could away from the hole and found a generous outcropping in the dark wall. Silently he cursed his white pants and tunic, aware that his dark brown skin would camouflage him much more effectively. He tucked himself out of sight as best he could, his belly flat against the ridge, knowing that it wouldn't hide his brawny frame if anyone shone a light directly at him. He saw a slender white hand reach up through the opening, and his heart hammered in his chest as he prepared to fight or flee, though luckily neither was necessary.

The figure passed within two yards of him and, as Marcus had hoped, the individual's attention and light source had been fixed on the spectacle and sound below. He was not discovered. Marcus released the air slowly from his lungs as the newcomer joined the others in the hollow.

The new arrival was obviously in charge and wore a heavy, dark cloak. Marcus regretted that he hadn't dared a look as the stranger had passed, desperate as he was to know who had convened a group of students in such an unlikely place. The ringleader's voice suddenly boomed through the eerie vibration of voices. It was familiar but quivered strangely, and Marcus could not place it. The glow of the torches flickered as a hot wind was conjured and twisted up from the center of the circle. Before he had time to think, a ceremony had begun below him.

“Shadows of the underworld, we call upon you. Empower your disciples. Your servants will go forward and be the Adversaries to the Emissaries of the Light. Give us strength. We come in service, to free you of your tethers, to open the door to your prison, and to bask in your power! The Golden Age has ended; we share in your glory. We come willingly to suffer on your behalf, to sacrifice for your freedom!” the deep voice roared, as the chanting continued and grew louder.

Marcus was horrified by the words and he prayed silently, surrounding himself in white light. Again his intuition beseeched him to flee, but he would not. His curiosity, his need to know, could not be overcome by fear or common sense, and he stood mesmerized as a scene of horror and carnage unfolded at lightning speed below him.

“We bring the innocents at this time of decline, this time of change, and we give them to you freely, oh evil serpents of the world forsaken,” the voice continued. The ring of students was circling, swaying, and jerking as if in a trance. The Nephilim, who had thus far stood silently observing beneath the five points of light around the room, disappeared to a corner of the cavern that Marcus could not see. Marcus could vaguely hear the squawk of creatures, perhaps birds, but the dark hymn was so loud that he could not be sure.

The fervor of the chanting group doubled, and their movements became frantic as the Nephilim returned to their posts beneath the torches. Marcus struggled to comprehend the scene. With horror, he realized that each of the giants held a flailing, squirming child. The indifferent Nephilim held the screaming babes like sacks in front of them and roughly passed them to members of the macabre circle.

I have to do something! What is this?
Marcus thought in panic. Nothing in his life in Atitala had prepared him for this. In the brief second it took Marcus to compose a single coherent thought, it was too late to intervene, though it would have been useless at any rate. Without warning, or further ceremony, the central leader raised his hands into the air and shouted.

“Rise now, Darkness. Accept this sacrifice!” The toddlers were mercilessly swung against the cave walls as if they were mats to be beaten clean. Marcus dropped to his knees in shock, and a powerful howl inexorably escaped him and was swallowed easily by the noise below.

Too late Marcus turned his face away; what he had witnessed could not be unseen. He retched over and over, vomiting in the dirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. The Nephilim had each taken up a wide drum, and they began to beat in rapid pulse, urging the humans on. Marcus rocked back and forth in horror, his eyes clamped tightly closed, unable to stop the retching that wracked his body.

The chanting continued, heightened by the carnage. Marcus dared not look. He did not want to see the gore; he could not fathom the violation of God's laws, the inhuman sacrifice of the innocent. He felt the evil grow exponentially around him, and he shivered and cried in horror. He wanted to disappear, to be anywhere other than where he was, and the burden of guilt was quick to envelop him. He should have done something! Anything! As the blood of the little ones stained the walls of the cave, so it indelibly stained Marcus's soul. He had witnessed humanity at its darkest.