by Gloria Mur
Gloria Mur
+7 (905) 546-20-65 (cell.)
e-mail: [email protected]
[email protected]
A group of tourists sets out for the Altai mountains, and suddenly finds themselves smack in the middle of a world they never imagined possible. The heroes are invited to the legendary Shambhala to carry out an important mission which will see them sent to a past incarnation in the ancient land of the giants- Lemuria...
While there they must go through a series of tests. Power, riches, love and betrayal... And all that before the inevitable Great Flood which awaits the people of Lemuria.
This book will grab your attention on page one and never let go!
The Last Queen of Lemuria
A Tale of Mysticism
A Warrior of Light always gets a second chance in life.
Paulo Coelho, " Manual of the Warrior of Light"
Introduction.
It happened at the dawn of humanity. The Big Water, came from the east and swallowed Lemuria. The ancient island disappeared, the homeland of the legendary titans, ...
...After a long wandering, the Great Ark of the Lemurians arrived at the top of a mountain. The ocean stretched to the horizon on all sides...
...And the giants cried out to the Lord: "Why have you spared our lives? We are dying from hunger and thirst!" And a voice answered them from the heavens: "Your home is here."
... A miracle happened- a newborn child read the ancient writing on the golden tablets, piously kept by the Lemurians for all these years. It was a plan for the building of a city. A city that couldn't be threatened by floods. This is how New Olmolungring came to be, hidden underground…
Time passed, the Big Water dissipated, and the Angel trumpeted out the will of the Father.
He gave the command to find any mountain tribes that survived the Flood. And mix blood with them, to revive the human race- in order to keep the forces of Darkness from destroying it completely.
The best sons of Lemuria left the underground land forever, and carried out what had been ordered. And the human race began to grow...
This underground land, built by the last Lemurians is still not empty to this day. There, in the depths of the Tibetan mountains, still lives this strange nation. They haven't been giants for a long time. Their grandchildren and great-grandchildren, having become smaller in height, managed to retain the magical powers, and purity of soul had by their ancestors. They live in Shambhala, which many have heard about, but no one has seen. All kinds of people have been searching for it for centuries, from pilgrims to dictators, but no one can find it. Shambhala is well defended from uninvited guests. The descendants of the Lemurians are watching over us, trying to help in our searches. Its many messengers wander from country to country, from continent to continent, inspiring people with brilliant thoughts, and relieving pain and suffering. Their missions are not always a success, as Darkness is still strong. It is rare, but sometimes, the residents of Shambhala need humans to solve a problem. And in these cases, they themselves reach out to those who are able to help...
Chapter 1. The Messenger
It was crowded in the summer café on the central avenue of Barnaul, a city in Russia near the Altai mountains. The townspeople took refuge from the heat under some large "Pepsi" umbrellas. Anyone who couldn't find a seat on a plastic chair just sat down on the grass. Music came from speakers on all sides. The smell of pizza and beer wafted in the air. A flock of sparrows was stealing food from the plates of the visitors. Not far away loomed a hunter behind the bottle recycling center – a tipsy, middle-aged native Altai man. Visually scanning the cafe, he found his prey– a half-empty bottle, and stumbling, walked up to its owner.
Marina and Boris Sorok were sitting under an umbrella in the shade. He sipped his beer and ate peanuts. She read a newspaper, stopping every now and then to share her impressions with her husband.
- "Listen to this, sweetie!" – Marina jabbed her thin finger into the paper, "Here... a resident of the village 'Klyuch' came out of his house at one in the morning and saw an unidentified object hovering in the sky. It was a silvery object, resembling a disk. It gave off an unusual sound.... Boris, honey!!”
Marina wrinkled her pointed nose.
- “Boris, honey! You're not listening!”
- “Marina!”
Boris began choking and coughing. A vein swelled on his powerful neck, his face turned purple. On his forehead near the roots of his hair, an old scar made itself known.
- “Let me drink my beer in peace! Keep your fantasies to yourself!” The man went to freshen up, hallucinating from his hangover.
Marina frowned for a second, but didn't let it bring her down and carried on:
- "There's even evidence! They found concentric circles in the yard..."
She set the empty bottle down on the table and a bum rushed towards them, "right on the village yard they found strange symbols, and two chickens were killed..."
- "Marina! How can you believe in this? It's all been thought up by journalists.”
The drunkard walked up to Marina from behind, and tugged at the bottle, leaning over the table. And suddenly he distinctly whispered:
- "Go to the mountains. Go this Friday."
Marina shuddered.
- "What? What did you say?!"
- "I'm just asking if I can take your bottle." – whined the tramp, inhaling the fumes. His narrow black eyes looked through Marina at the table.
- "Take it and buzz off," Boris answered, "Marina, baby, what's wrong? You've gone pale."
- "With me? Oh, nothing, I heard something. I'm burning up out here," - she watched the bum walk away, and her brown eyes twinkled, "just burning up."
- "What happened?" – said her husband tensely, - "what did you hear?"
- "Listen, Boris, baby, don't you think it's time we went on vacation?"
- "I've been saying that for a long time. But you always made it about our balance in the bank, saying that our accountant would be lost without you."
- "I've already done the balance."
- "Well, where should we go then? Spain, Turkey, Egypt?"
- "I'm not sure yet," answered his wife, slowly covering the newspaper.
Having laid it on the table, Marina brushed the glass. Cola spilled out and hissed.
- "Well there you go," - grieved Marina, picking up the ruined newspaper. And then she saw the little rivers of cola, flowing down to form an arrow. The arrow, breaking all laws of motion, zigged and zagged before finally stopping on an advertisement. As if hypnotized, Marina watched the little drop that didn't want to fall.
- "Well what, Marina, baby!" – exclaimed Boris, "what did you see there? Throw it away, you'll get your dress dirty."
- “Boris!”
Marina ran her eyes over the ad.
- "Let's go, Boris, honey!"
She jumped out of place. Her face became flushed, and her thin lips quivered.
- "Where to? What happened?" – said the man in surprise.
- "We're going to the Altai Mountains. On friday."
- "Marina! Have you lost your mind? Friday is the day after tomorrow."
Marina roughly threw her money on the table, grabbed her husband by the arm, and dragged him to the exit.
If someone had taken a mind to follow the bum that scared Marina, that person would be very surprised. Just after the Soroks had left the cafe, the drunk dropped his bag of bottles. And rushed in the direction of the park. There, going into the bushes, he took a look around. Then he grabbed his head, and took off his disheveled wig. After that, he removed his glued on beard and mustache, and washed off his make up… A bit later, a businessman showed up on the park path. He had on an expensive
suit and tie. Only the tail of his long hair gave any hints at what lay behind his masterful disguise. Having pressed a button on his cell-phone, he pronounced:
- Number seven-hundred-thousand-forty-two alpha shintaman. completed.
1* At the same time, in the Barnaul airport, a flight from Moscow touched down. Two young girls ran lightly down the gangway. They were in a great mood, and chirping away happily, the two friends jumped into an approaching bus.
2* Nastia Astakhova and Margo Nargizova, second-year foreign language students from one of Moscow's Universities. They are so different that it raises the question: what brings them together? Nastia is shy, and still has a baby face –to see her, you wouldn't think she's a year over fifteen. Her figure is that of a child, awkward and slightly hunched. She dressed inconspicuously in faded jeans and a t-shirt. Her thick, red hair was bunched up into a ponytail, her face had no makeup, and her nose was freckled. In her grey eyes there was a mixture of surprise, seriousness, and naivety. When Nastia gets to thinking, her face acquires a romantic dreamy expression. Then she starts answering her own questions and smiling at nothing. Her classmates teased her, calling her "Alice in Wonderland." She took no offense, quite the contrary, in fact she was flattered to look like her favorite character. Nastia was living in a dream world, and if anyone could get her to come back to reality, it was her friend, Margo.
3* Margo was the complete opposite of Nastia. First of all, Margo was beautiful. Further, beauty her beauty was fatal – in novels, women like her cause duels, and ruin lives. And next, Margo never day-dreamed. She simply took from life everything that she needed. She was sober, calm and self-assured, without unnecessary emotions or prejudices.
4* A hint of eastern blood gave her swarthy skin, slanted green eyes, regular features, and thick, dark curls of hair. Margo's body was luxurious, flexible and strong. No clothes in the world could hide her femininity. Margo herself jokes that she would still be attractive in a burlap sack. She moves smoothly, to the point that it seems that she's thought out every step and flick of her head. Margo was royally unhurried. It was hard to imagine her out of breath, or running at full speed. She was always calm and outwardly cold. Margo's stare was sharp like a samurai's sword. And a smile doesn't go well at all with a cold look. Margo's smile is wide, warm and sincere enough to melt the hardest heart.
5*
The girls arrived first. It was Margo's idea. Why she was so excited about the trip to Altai was unclear. Initially, Nastia didn't take the offer seriously. She certainly hadn't missed the fact that Margo loved comfort and even luxury! A trip to Altai would mean sleeping in tents and rafting down a mountain river. Nastia tried to reason with her friend. All the same, Margo wouldn't abandon the plan. She spoke contagiously on the local beauty and wonders, describing their future trip... Nastia gave up.
The girls, collecting their baggage, didn't notice the stranger in an expensive suit, who was carefully looking at them, then at the pictures he was holding in his hand, and pressing a button on his phone
- Number fifty-thousand-three-hundred-twenty-seven beta shintaman. Complete."
It was a great day for the young graduate student, Andrei Orlov. He had saved his money for a whole year, doing papers and essays for negligent students. And here, finally, today his dream– to buy a professional "Kodak" camera- had become a reality. In anticipation of the purchase, he walked into a department store.
-"May I help you?" - smiled the Altai girl from behind the counter in a low voice.
- "Yes, I'd like to buy this model," answered Andrei, pointing up above.
She took the box from the shelf.
- "Right, here are the instructions, here's the warranty card... and here's... Sir! You'll be taken today!" – she exclaimed, having read the colorful manual from the box, "you've won a prize!"
- "What kind of prize?"
- "A prize from our company! A trip to the Altai mountains!" – answered the saleslady, and screamed into the depths of the hall! "Somebody's won the trip! Call the marketing department!" Before adding, "ID, please!"
Fifteen minutes later, the beaming Andrei came out of the store. He was holding a bag with his "Kodak" in his hands, and the ticket for his trip was in his pocket. On Friday, he was to set off on an unexpected journey.
And the saleslady left her place at work, took off her wig, turned into a young man, and set off for the parking lot, making a phone-call along the way.
- "Number two-hundred-thirty-thousand-one gamma shintaman. Complete."
6*
7* Chapter Two. On the banks of the Katun River
8*
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:
- "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 interes
ted 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.
- "He's wearing roller-skates," said Andrei.
- "How could he be on roller-skates?! Look at that riverbank! There is nothing but fallen trees everywhere!" – objected Margo.
- "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.
- "What's this? What about a matchmaker?” (translator's note: "svaha" is Russian for matchmaker) – said the driver, taken aback.
- "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."
