One Great Year Read online

  “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.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE EMISSARIES

  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.

  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 fractal6 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 ni
ght 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.