by Ciana Stone
"The path to the light lies in a dark valley, surrounded by the sharp cliffs of self-doubt. You must decide if you dare to travel the path, if you have the strength and courage to look deep within the mirror of your own soul.
"Your training will help provide illumination on the dark path, to help guide you to your destination, the Source. There all questions will be answered, all things made clear.
"But know this. To look into the Source, the eye of the dragon, one's spirit must be pure. For therein lies the power; power enough to destroy you in a single glance.
"All things meet here. Eternal opposites merge. And all things wait here. Universal power, to heal or destroy. Love, abundant enough to make you as one of the immortals. And wisdom, of such magnitude as to obliterate the mind with its vastness or, fill it with the knowledge and understanding of all things.
"You must choose at the appointed time for yourself if you will enter the game, take up the quest. You take with you that which I give freely.
"Our training is finished. I will not forget you. Farewell."
Hattori rose and waited as Morgan bowed her head to the floor. "Farewell, Meijin," she whispered with tears falling to the polished surface.
When she raised her head, he was gone.
As she returned to the present, Morgan felt recognition break through the confusion. Knowing what she would see, she turned her head toward the door. Juro stood beyond the threshold, silently observing. She stood and bowed deeply from the waist. With a short half bow he turned and walked away.
Morgan curled up on the wide couch and pillowed her face on her hands as she lay staring into the fire, wondering about Juro. The random pattern of the flames tranquilized her thoughts. Before she knew it, sleep stole her away with her old Master’s words still echoing in her mind.
The dream came to her like an answer to a prayer. Cord kissed her tenderly as his hands caressed her. Sighing in pleasure, she opened herself to him. Slowly and gently he moved within her, their desire blending in perfect harmony. "Cord," she breathed his name as she gazed into his eyes, "I love you." Within his dark brown eyes, she saw that love returned.
A sudden jolt brought Morgan wide awake, out of the dream. She looked around in confusion, wishing she could slip back into the dream and stay there. A hand on her shoulder shook her again. She turned her head and looked into Victor's smoky blue eyes..
Morgan turned away from the anger she saw but didn’t understand. How had she gotten here, into this room and this bed? And where were her clothes?
She looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember how she'd gotten here. She remembered being in the den and seeing Juro, but everything was blank after that. She realized it was dark. I must have been asleep for hours.
Victor took her chin in his fingers and forced her to turn to him. "You were having a nightmare." He said in a cold voice with fury inscribed on his face.
Morgan made no comment. Had she said something during her sleep to let him know what she was dreaming? Maybe. She didn’t know and wasn’t sure what to do, so she lay there stiffly enduring his enraged stare.
He moved one hand to her neck, caressed gently then suddenly gripped tightly. She remained motionless as he rose and positioned himself above her with his legs straddling her body.
He increased the pressure on her throat and repeated. "You were having a nightmare, were you not?"
Morgan's body flinched automatically as he simultaneously lowered his weight down on her abdomen and squeezed her throat painfully. Warning bells went off in her head. He wasn't playing.
She was at a disadvantage, so the smartest move would be to go along with him. "Yes, I was dreaming."
Victor raised his body slightly to relieve the pressure, but kept his knees planted firmly on either side of her body. He snatched the sheet back to expose her, and his hand moved to her breast.
"Who were you dreaming about?" She knew she wasn't mistaking the threat conveyed in his tone.
Her first thought was to lie to him so he wouldn’t hurt her. But anger erupted instead, making her ready to fight. She didn't owe him any explanations about anything, and she'd be damned if she'd let anyone bully her.
She reached up, grabbed his wrist and pressed her fingers deep into the sensitive nerve center, knowing it would cause his hand to go temporarily numb. As his grip loosened, she wiggled free and scooted up toward the head of the bed into a sitting position.
"That's none of your damn business!" She snarled at him, feeling the tender skin around her neck where his hand had left soreness.
Victor lunged at her with a snarl and she reacted instantly, rolling sideways off the bed. She landed lightly on her feet, looking around for her clothes while watching him.
She didn’t see her dress, but his discarded shirt lay on the floor. With her gaze glued to him, she slid her arms into the sleeves and pulled the shirt up over her shoulders.
Morgan backed away from the bed and made her way across the room to the door. The moment she reached it, she flung it open and took off, slamming it shut behind her. "Shit!" She looked up and down the long hall, "Which way?" The house was so big, she couldn't remember the quickest way out.
Having no time to waste, she turned to the right and raced down the hall. She had to get out of sight before Victor emerged from the bedroom, so she dashed through the door at the end of the hall.
"Oh, shit!" She looked around the dark room in dismay. She'd walked into what looked like some decorator's demented idea of a scene from the Arabian Nights.
Aside from thin gauzy curtains that billowed in the breeze from the opened windows, the only furnishings in the room were large upholstered floor pillows and several low wooden tables holding glass decanters containing various colored liquids.
"Nowhere to hide," she looked around with increasing dread.
The door flew open and Victor stalked into the room. The slam of the door nearly splintered the frame. He locked the door and stood there, barring her way. Silently, they eyed each other, two adversaries intent on sizing up the other's weakness.
Victor's initial rage had abated somewhat. The thrill of the fight and the excitement of the conquest sang in his veins. Quite a challenge, this one, he marveled at her tenacity despite himself. All the others were so easily tamed, so manageable. Juro was right. This one is different. Even under the effects of the drug, she dares to defy me.
With lightning speed, he attacked, seeking to catch her off guard. Morgan sidestepped his advance and circled him. "So, it is a battle you seek, my love," he teased, edging in closer as he whispered to her in the shadows.
They circled one another slowly, spiraling in so that each orbit brought them nearer. Victor made the first move. Dropping with his left leg bent, he extended his right leg, spinning as he dropped, seeking to sweep her feet out from under her from the rear.
Just as his foot came near her leg she jumped and extended her left leg in a snapping motion. Her kick caught him across the cheek and the force of the blow threw him off balance. He rolled back and bounded to his feet, surprised she’d outmaneuvered him. Paying closer attention, yet still confident, he prepared to move against her. He'd underestimated her the first time. That wouldn’t happen again.
He stepped in with a karate-style high round kick. The air sizzled with his speed. Morgan stepped straight toward him, driving her fist into his midsection as his foot whizzed harmlessly by her head. Immediately following the punch, she hooked her left arm around his upraised knee and threw him to the ground.
With a howl of rage, he shot to his feet and charged her with a flurry of rapid-fire punches. She crouched as his first punch neared her face, then sprang forward and butted him in the chest with her head as she raised her forearm to deflect the blow upwards. With a quick sweeping of her right leg, she knocked his foot out from beneath him.
Victor rose again, breathing heavily, "This is growing tiresome. Stop this foolishness immediately. I have been easy with you. I do not want to have to hu
rt you. Give up this silly act and come back to bed."
Morgan circled, her words short and harsh. "Are you crazy? What's wrong with you?"
Victor had no intention of explaining himself. He'd never answered to anyone for his actions and he didn’t intend to start now. “Look at me.”
She complied, and he continued with a smile. “Don’t fight me, darling. You can’t win.”
"Wanna bet?" her voice came back, strong and clear.
Victor stopped dead in his tracks. The drug supposed to induce acquiescence. Something had gone wrong, but what? He stalked closer.
She watched him nervously as he approached, then dared a quick look around for some kind of weapon. As she retreated, her leg brushed against one of the large floor cushions. A sudden inspiration hit her. She grabbed the cushion and tossed it toward Victor, moving quickly backward to locate another as the cushion sailed through the air toward him. "Catch!" she said in what she hoped was a playful voice.
Victor caught it easily and tossed it aside. No sooner had he grabbed the first, another flew toward him. Smirking at her game, he casually knocked it aside and inched closer to her.
She threw three more cushions, aiming each a little more toward his face. All three were caught or brushed aside. Finally, she was down to one cushion. Aiming directly at his face, she threw it with all her might. He caught it and had just moved it from in front of his face when Morgan flew at him and caught his exposed body with a sidekick to the sternum.
The breath whooshed out of him as he stumbled backward, tripping over the scattered cushions. He lost his balance and went down. That was the opportunity she'd wanted. Morgan took advantage of the moment and fled for the door.
She fumbled with the lock, got the door open and ran back down the long hall, to the winding staircase that led to the front of the house. At a dead run she descended to the ground level.
Spotting lights on in the front of the house, she turned and ran for the terrace. Surely there was a way out. Once outside, she scanned the area and saw no movement. A large iron gate set in the wall to the far right of the pool drew her attention.
She leaped over the rail that edged the terrace and dropped to the smooth tiled surface surrounding the pool. Quickly but carefully she made her way around the pool toward the gate, cautious not to slide on the damp flooring.
When she reached the gate, she tried to open it. It was locked. Frantic to escape, she looked around for another exit and made a desperate decision. With her back to the wall, she made her way back over to the terrace. A balcony extended over it, running the length of the house. If she could get to the balcony, she could make it to the top of the wall surrounding the pool then jump down to the other side.
She climbed onto the terrace rail, crouched and jumped as high as she could. Her fingers just barely caught the bottom of the balcony rail. Her arms strained as she swung suspended from the rail. It took all her strength to pull herself up, but she managed, and then climbed over the railing and ran down to the opposite end.
The wide stone wall lay about six feet below. She climbed over the railing, took a deep breath and jumped. From there it was another jump to soft ground. Her feet had no more contacted the damp grass when two men appeared before her. One man grabbed her right wrist with his left hand and raised his right fist to strike.
Before he had time to act, she drove her left fist into his face, at the same time twisting her wrist so that her captured arm came up and then circled under his grabbing arm. Morgan shifted her body back and hooked her right leg around his left. She pulled and sent him to the ground with a scream of pain as his shoulder dislocated.
The second man moved in, throwing a straight front kick at her face. She blocked the kick with her left arm, dropped to one knee, and drove a straight arm punch to his groin. The man howled as her fist made contact with his unprotected testicles.
Morgan jumped up, turned to flee and ran head-on into another man. Just as she gained her balance to attack, two other men grabbed her, one on each arm. She struggled to break free, pulling and kicking at them. "Let go of me!"
Her arms twisted painfully as the men pulled them straight out and up behind her, forcing her to bend forward at the waist to relieve the strain.
With her stumbling and bent over in pain, they shoved her in through a door the third man held open. When the door slammed shut behind her, she straightened, rubbing her aching wrists as she looked around.
She was in what appeared to be a large office or study. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls, laden with thousands of books. An enormous oak desk sat at one end of the room.
At the other end, a fire burned brightly in the fireplace. Two large leather wing chairs sat before the fire. As she looked in that direction, Victor rose from one of the chairs and turned to her.
She backed up a step and groped for the doorknob, discovering it locked. With ever-increasing apprehension, she watched as Victor walked toward her. His face wore an expression she couldn’t read as his eyes shot blue sparks in her direction.
Sudden confused and blurred images burst in her mind, causing her to stagger under their violation. She could make no sense out of the chaos that filled her mind. The peculiar sensation she’d experienced before began to take hold. Struggling to maintain control, she stood with her back pressed against the door as Victor stopped just inches from her.
Like a fierce predator closing in on its prey, he smiled down at her, the strange blue flames within his eyes dancing wildly. "No more games," he hissed as he reached for her.
*****
Morgan woke slowly. When she opened her eyes, she remembered where she was. In Victor's bed. The events of the past night came flooding back to her and humiliation filled her. She couldn't believe she had ended up in bed with him after all that happened. What the hell?
A quick look around confirmed she was alone. Relief swept through her. At least she wouldn't have to face him yet. She sat, wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her head on them. What the hell's wrong with me. How did he get to me?
It's almost as if he had suddenly cast some kind of spell on me. She immediately chastised herself. Seriously? You’re really going to try to play that ridiculous card? Right, you don't want to take credit for your own actions, so you try to blame it on some kind of strange magic or mind control, or something. Now, that’s owning your conduct, isn’t it?
She knew how ridiculous it seemed, but no matter how many times she went over it, she couldn't make sense of it. She knew she was stronger than she’d behaved, and she couldn't understand how he seemed to bend her will to his own. Confusion reigned in her mind, making her feel somehow lost and vulnerable.
And that strange buzzing sensation in my mind, she suddenly realized. What is that? Every time it starts, my thoughts seem to get confused and cluttered. Am I losing my mind?
The fear of insanity was something she couldn’t stand to think about. It was her deepest and most powerful fear. Just forget it, she ordered herself. She was determined she wouldn’t end up like her mother, who’d gone insane when Morgan was a child.
But the fear swam up from the depths of her mind, bringing with it an abrupt and overpowering sense of horror. Against her own consent, her mind filled with thoughts of her mother.
Morgan's mother, Morgana Elise was a beautiful, spoiled woman. With long red hair and vivid green eyes, she had no trouble catching the eye of every man she happened upon. And having grown up as the only child of very wealthy parents, she was accustomed to getting everything she wanted, the moment she wanted it.
So, when Morgana met a handsome Native American from the Navaho tribe, she decided she wanted him. Like always, she got what she wanted. Morgan's father, Windwalker, was a simple man of the earth, not used to the kind of life Morgana led. But his love for Morgana overruled everything else, and so they married, and he tried to adapt to her ways.
Trouble began between them before Morgan was born. Morgana demanded Windwalker take an A
merican name. As had become his habit, he gave in and assumed the name of Trevor Windwalker. When Morgan was born, Morgana demanded that the child be named after her mother and be given Morgana's maiden name, Masters.
Windwalker agreed to keep peace with his wife, but as luck would have it, a clerical error occurred, and the child's name was spelled Morgan instead of Morgana. And so, they named her Morgan Mee-Yaa-Nu Windwalker Masters. Morgana was furious that Windwalker had named their daughter Mee-Yaa-Nu. She called it tacky and demanded he have it changed.
Windwalker put up with her insults but didn't change Morgan’s name. He’d experienced a vision before their daughter was born in which Mee-Yaa-Nu, the beautiful ancient one who was the Dream Giver of his People appeared to him and told him the child would be female and that her name should be Mee-Yaa-Nu. This child would be the next Dream Giver to the people, in a way in which none had been before her.
Morgan, or as her father called her, Mee-Ya-Nu, spent the early years of her life with an increasingly dissatisfied mother and a father who turned to other women for companionship.
Just after Morgan turned five, her mother went to the hospital to have her brother. After being released, her mother took the baby and went to her parents' house in New York City. Windwalker called every day, begging her to come home and bring his son.
But Morgana had no desire to return. She liked being at her parents’ home. There were parties to attend and a lot of wealthy people to associate with. She drank quite heavily and at the same time she started to take drugs to lose the weight she'd gained in her pregnancy.
It worried her parents, but they soon found they had no control over their daughter. She would disappear for days at a time, showing up drunk or wiped out on drugs. Finally, they called Windwalker and asked him to come get her and the baby who she named Maximilian Masters.
Windwalker left Morgan with her grandmother and went to bring his wife home. But Morgana didn’t want to leave. She put the baby in his arms and told him to go away.
