Shine: The Knowing Ones
Read Shine: The Knowing Ones Online
Authors: Amy Freeman
Copyright © 2013 Amy Freeman
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1481158287
ISBN 13: 9781481158282
eBook ISBN: 978-1-63003-698-0
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
This book would not be what it is without the help and guidance of these amazing people:
My daughter, Meghan for countless reading and revisions, my daughter Kajsa and my son Tyson for inspiration, and my baby, Jackson, (not so little anymore) who patiently endured a mother constantly glued to a computer screen. To my precious sisters Allyson Hill and Anne Yeargin for reading, editing and promoting, and to my super hero husband, Clint for his endless patience and support. I shall have you fitted for a cape.
Endless gratitude for invaluable critiquing to my League of Utah Writers group, “Salt City Scribes”, my ANWA clan, my Power Writing Hour buddies, and my inspirational and talented instructor, Brenda Bensch and her husband Herb Arnold. Love and thanks to my dear writing family—Justin and CariKay Cole, Paris and Shawnee Smith and Aubree Bartlett. Special thanks to my dear friends and family members for putting their lives on hold to read and edit—Sara Brady, Dawn Bohling, Melissa Wilson, Jodi Boone, and Missy Riffle.
To the talented Melissa Sipherd and her hubby (my brother) Andrew “the reflector” Sipherd. Andrew...may you forever be buffeted.
Sincere, heart-felt gratitude to Mr. Gregg Troy, Head Coach for the 2012 USA Men’s Olympic swim team and Head Coach of the University of Florida Gators swim team for patiently educating me on the sport of swimming, and to Gators Alumni swimmer Michael Yuan for enduring and answering all of my questions. Sincere, heart-felt gratitude to the most beautiful dancer I know, Jennifer Demko. Thank you for your help fine tuning Sam’s world of dance.
Sincere, heart-felt gratitude to Olya Ozerova-Clark, Nadia and Oleg Koleschuk, Emilia Oswalt and Elena Gitin for invaluable aid in Russian translation and information.
Sincere, heart-felt gratitude to Rosalyn L. Bruyere, D.D, and to Math and Hayden Llewellen for invaluable information on living energies, auras and the power of the human spirit. To my sister, Elizabeth Steans for educating me on a day in the life of a rock band, and to my dear friend, Selena Fryer for Trin’s mathematical superiority.
To my rockin’ Father-in-Law (Dad), Colonel Ron Freeman US Army (Ret.) for a bottomless wealth of military information and my sweet Mother-in-Law (Mom), Kathy Freeman for helping me obtain Russian translation assistance.
I truly hope that I have accurately portrayed you all in your expertise within the sometimes restrictive confines of Fiction. Thank you, all from the bottom of my heart.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PRONUNCIATION KEY:
Leaders within the Veduny tribe have names with meaning:
Aalok – Aalok – light
Aleksei – ahlyekSYEY
Anavi – ah nahVEE – earth
Anvil – AHNvil - wind
Ashbel – ASHbell – fire
Dobrushin – dō BRŪSHin
Gea – GAYah – earth
Lenka – LEE enka
Llamar – laMAHR – fire
Mikhail – mee kahEEL
Mila – MEEila
Vadim – vuhDEEM – to know
Veduny – BEHduhny – knowing ones
Vitaly – VeeTAHlee
Yakov – YAHkov
Ivanova – EeVAHNovah
Manpupuner – Man Pupu Nyer
Trinton – Torrent/He who lives in water
Samantha – Listener
On a high plateau in the Northern Urals of Russia, a mysterious rock formation towers over a lone plateau. The site is steeped in legend and exactly how it came to be is unknown...unless you are
...
CHAPTER ONE
A
gain, the vision flashed. Seven enormous stone monoliths soaked in blood.
“Piqué! Piqué! Keep turning! Watch your spot and five and six and seven, next two! Piqué!”
“Sam.” Erika tugged at her sleeve, jarring her back into the moment. Sam vaulted into a piqué turn—her timing in the offbeat.
“Samantha, follow the music!”
The Instructor issued a sharp clap for the fifth time that day. Sam moved to catch up and finished the pattern of turns across the floor, then got out of the way.
Standing to the side, she pushed the tips of her pointe shoes into the floor, catching her breath...shaken...flustered. Her willowy fingers rested on her slender hips, her ballet skirt draping her upper thighs as they moved in waif-like grace despite her anxiety. She exhaled as her eyes drifted to the other dancers, forcing her mind to settle on something familiar.
She drew a deep breath and let it out, watching brilliant light encase each graceful body. A rosy hue shrouded Miranda Davis as she waltzed past Sam, her heated energy announcing new love. Paul Brecht followed, emitting darkness, stressed about something going on at home. Sam concentrated on the information more than she really wanted to...anything to shut out the macabre image. After a lifetime of psychic experiences, this vision was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It flashed with regularity throughout the day, throwing
her off, affecting her ability to function. Her professors were losing patience.
The last set of dancers completed the sequence, and the Instructor called out, “Come to the center.”
The dancers curtsied toward her, and class came to a close. Removing their slippers and collecting their things, the dancers migrated toward the door through a thick aroma of nylon, spandex, and exhaustion.
“Samantha.” The Instructor crossed the room in her direction. “You seem very distracted. The university showcase is right around the corner. This can’t continue.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam replied. “I’ll get my head straight. You’ll see a new Sam tomorrow.”
“The one we auditioned...”
“The one you auditioned.”
She put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re one of our best,” she said, “if not the best. When you’re in class, be in class.”
“Yes ma’am.”
The Instructor held her gaze a moment, then dropped her hand from Sam’s shoulder and walked toward the door.
Sam’s face fell to her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what this was. With a solid exhale she descended to the floor, unlacing her pointe shoes to assess the new damage to her feet.
“Hey Sam,”
She glanced up. “Hey Erika, how’s it going?”
Erika sat down next to her. “I’m fine, but what’s up with you?”
Sam huffed, exasperated. “Nothing, just stressed.”
“What’s going on?” Erika asked.
Sam pulled her pointe shoe off and began rubbing her foot, wincing. “Just the stress of college I guess,” she lied. “It’s a lot more demanding than high school.”
Erika leaned forward stretching her legs. “No kidding,” she said, “and the dance department thinks we don’t have anything else to do, they don’t even care about our academic classes.
‘Squeeze them in whenever you can
.’”
Sam laughed, pulling her other shoe off.
Erika pointed and flexed her feet. “My high school was really small,” she said. “My whole town was. Not much competition. I really don’t know how I qualified for this program.”
“You’re a great dancer,” Sam said.
Erika shrugged, glancing up with a smile. “I love doing it.”
“Well you’re really good at it,” Sam said. She noticed a dark veil of energy hiding in Erika’s aura. It was always there, but didn’t fit—a stark contrast to her gentle nature.
“So, I think we’re both being cast in Jana’s piece,” Erika said.
Sam blinked, then offered a thin smile. “Nice,” she said. “You know she’s hanging us from cords? I kinda expect one of us to die.”
Erika laughed. “I know, right?”
Sam grabbed her pointe shoes. “Does the University of Utah have a union for student ballet dancers?”
“We totally need one,” Erika said. Both girls stood and walked out of the studio toward the dressing room. Erika pulled her dance sweater on. “So are you sure you don’t need a ride back to the dorm?”
Sam stopped in front of her locker and pulled it open. “No, I’m good. My friend is coming to get me, but thanks.”
“Okay,” Erika said. She opened her own locker, grabbed her bag and put her pointe shoes inside. Be careful. It’s late. Everyone is totally bailing.”
“Can you blame them? We’ve been here for four hours.”
Erika exhaled. “I know,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Sam pulled yoga pants on over her tights and continued digging in her locker as Erika walked out. The dressing room had cleared. Everyone was exhausted from the lengthy rehearsal and anxious to get home. So was Sam. She pulled her bag out, stuffed her pointe shoes in, grabbed her street shoes and dropped them to the floor. She slipped her right foot into her shoe and paused. Lifting her head she glanced to the far lockers. Had she seen movement? She scanned the opposite end of the dressing room and listened...no sound. “Hello?” No answer.
A rustling sound emanated from the far corner. Sam’s heart quickened, a hint of fear coiling in the pit of her stomach. Keeping an eye on the other end of the room she fumbled for her left shoe, shoving her foot into it. She glanced down, fixing the angle getting her foot inside and lifted her head. A figure stood in the shadows at the end of the room.