by Denise Daisy
Before long, they arrived at the marble riverbed. The icy water on her shoeless feet caused her feet to cramp. Sensing the pain, Travis scooped her into his arms and carried her across the watery path. Grateful, she held on tight, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was too emotionally drained to care about the awkwardness of the situation. However, she did notice he continued to carry her once they had crossed the river bed, and up the steep slippery path. She was grateful. She was extremely tired from the heavy emotion of last night. Not to mention the dire lack of sleep. She longed to reach her room at the inn, and lay in bed for hours.
The four continued to walk in silence until they reached the end of the long tunnel. Falcon replaced the torch, and then climbed a few feet up the side of the wall, where he pulled a small lever. Once again, the ground beneath them trembled as the rock wall slid slowly to their right. The musty, dirty smell of the shack’s façade greeted their noses. All four crossed through. The wall closed slowly behind them.
Adam retrieved a hidden sword, then donned a black hooded cloak, as he stood on the broken down porch of the cabin. He took Bronwyn’s hand in his. “Bless you, lovely Bronwyn. It has been an honor. Until our paths cross again.” He kissed her hand, and then nodded to Travis and Falcon. He jumped from the porch, running into the woods, disappearing like a frightened deer.
“I’m turning the scribe over to you. You have it from here,” Falcon said to Travis. He gave Bronwyn a slight wink. “I’ll be seeing you around, Scribe.” He too slipped into his hooded robe, darting off into the woods, disappearing into the thickness of the trees.
Travis and Bronwyn were left alone on the porch. He took her hand. “Stay close beside me.”
They made their way through the woods back to the inn, neither one saying a word.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DAY SEVEN
Bronwyn woke earlier than she planned. Despite her body’s protests, she climbed from the bed, desiring to take advantage of Bethany and Lillian‘s absence. She was glad they weren’t in the room. She had no desire to try and make up a story explaining where she was last night, and why she had snuck back into the room at five in the morning. She quickly splashed cold water onto her face, brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair and dressed. While the others were eating, she quietly took her leave.
The sun was at work again, radiating its warmth, making her grateful for the beauty of the morning. The gently moving ripples of the river glistened under the rays of the sun, and seemed to smile at her as she walked past, uplifting her spirits some from the feeling of dread that overwhelmed her last night. She skirted past the river, scouting for a place to escape. She needed a place of solitude, a place to collect her thoughts and pen the many questions invading her mind. She made her way across the property and onto the small, narrow highway. This time, instead of heading into Moonshine, she decided to venture in the opposite direction. She strolled on down the highway until she arrived at the old covered bridge where she and Walt took shelter the night of their arrival; the same bridge where she first laid eyes on Travis. The place was perfect. No one would ever think to look for her here.
She hiked on down the grassy hill leading underneath the bridge, and found a nice place near the river’s edge to sit and collect her thoughts. Her mind had been jumping from one subject to another since she escaped the inn, and now as she sat in solitude, she thought of the implausibility of last night’s events. What Barak and the others told her defied all physical laws, all logic, all sense, and yet, for some bizarre reason, she believed it--her heart did, anyway. Throughout her life she’d usually followed her heart, rather than her head, and right now, her heart was telling her this was the very reason she was here.
She reflected on her earlier writing of Moonshine. Thoughts of the old manuscript evoked an anxious feeling that did not sit right with her, and as she continued to mediate on the subject, she noticed she twisted at her fingers in nervous agitation. Her memory of the story was vague, at best. Barak was right when he said her parents had insisted she stop writing. She hadn’t thought of the incident for twenty-four years. A gnawing dread surfaced, making her realize there were suppressed memories concerning the story--events she’d been forced to forget. With her curiosity piquing, she desired to find her old writing and shed more light onto all of this. Besides, as Barak mentioned, the second prophecy might be hidden somewhere within the pages. Hopefully her mother had not destroyed the book, but stored it somewhere in the attic. She decided to make a surprise visit to her parents on the way home from touring, and search for the manuscript. With the conclusion of that matter, her mind settled on the subject, and then sporadically jumped to the next: Travis.
He was a Prince, the ruler of another world, a man of wisdom and power. He was the very definition of compassionate, caring for everyone alike. She felt silly for thinking he had been attracted to her in any way. The source of his concern lay in his solemn duty; it was what he did as a benevolent ruler. She should’ve never read any more into his actions. This thought caused her heart to ache. She immediately forced it from her mind, but it didn’t leave willingly. Instead, it attached itself to thoughts of Mavis, and Bronwyn began to speculate why Mavis asked about the fireworks show. Did Mavis know she had watched them with Travis?
She felt a twinge of guilt, then dismissed it. Nothing adulterous happened between them. She pondered once again about Mavis’s injuries, wondering if they had happened during the uprising.
There were so many more questions. She thought of the troupe, and Marcus, and the re-writes she had yet to start, let alone finish.
Today was their seventh day in Moonshine. It was just a matter of time before the parts arrived and Larry repaired the bus, accelerating their departure. Leaving seemed like an escape back to normality. The idea of getting on the bus with the troupe, and heading back to civilization, to their next engagement, seemed like a visit from an old friend. The thought of being home in her condo on the beach, visiting her favorite coffee house with her friends, and the other activities that usually consumed her life, seemed so appealing. She stared across the flowing river, smiling at the thought of it all.
“How’s our Lady Scribe today?”
His voice startled her, breaking her gaze from the river. She cast her eyes on Falcon, sitting on his motorcycle.
“I never heard you drive up.”
“You need to become more aware of your surroundings. I followed you the entire way.” He lit a cigarette, took a draw, and expelled the smoke slowly, all the while keeping his eye on her. “Didn’t Travis warn you about going off alone? Yet, for some reason you continue to neglect his instructions. Why is that?”
Bronwyn gave a defiant chuckle. “I’m not used to asking permission to take a walk.”
He drew on the cigarette. “Get used to it.”
She scowled. “Am I in danger?”
Her question was nonchalant. There was no fear in her voice, and she could tell her relaxed attitude on the subject didn’t sit right with him. “Always.”
“It was you following me the night we arrived, wasn’t it? I saw you moving in and out of the trees.”
He took a long draw exhaling the smoke slowly before he answered. “I knew you noticed me. I saw the fear in your eyes, as I do now.” He wasn’t taking his eyes off her, and his stare was cold.
She swallowed hard. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Yes you are.”
The smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke. A shudder crawled up her back and for some reason a seed of distrust began to take root inside of her.
He took one last draw, and then tossed his cigarette on the ground. “You don’t trust me?”
The heat wrapped around her neck. Was he reading her thoughts? She swallowed hard again and tried to dismiss the accusation. “I have a hard time trusting men in general.”
He stared at her for a few seconds longer, and then continued on with the previous conversation, as if they had never strayed fr
om it in the first place. “Abaddon was awaiting your arrival that night. He sent many of his men through the portal as soon as you opened it. It took all of us to fight them off.”
She shuddered again at the thought. “How did they know I was coming? Our arrival was an accident. Walt took a wrong turn that night.”
“According to you.” He dismounted his bike.
She studied him. He was in excellent physical shape, as were all of the men she had encountered from Eden. Moreover, like the others, he wore his hair long. She noticed that a small part of his scar was visible from underneath his dark glasses. He had no facial hair, save for a slight five o’clock shadow. In addition, as with every time she had seen him, he was barefoot, dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt. He also wore the same white stone pendant around his neck as she saw on Adam and Travis.
“What’s the necklace for?” she asked. “I noticed you all wear one.”
“It reminds us of who we really are.”
She knew she would not get any more information than that elusive offering. “Tell me about your world. What‘s it called?”
“It’s called earth, same as yours. Remember we’re of another dimension, not another planet. Only a doorway separates the two, not a universe.”
She had read of portals, worm holes and black holes, and was aware of the possibility of other dimensions. But, she also read that it would take millions of years for technology to advance to the point of accessing them, if ever. If that was the case, then their world must be extremely advanced, yet Barak spoke of it as a garden state, like the original Eden of the Bible.
“Where’s the portal?”
Falcon lit up another and took a quick draw before he answered. “The waterfall.”
Her eyes flashed in surprise. The peculiarity she experienced that night now made sense, and she trembled inside at the thought of being so close to another world.
“Something happened to me there. Travis said it was altitude sickness but I know it wasn’t.”
He expelled a long line of smoke. “You climbed to the top where the veil between the two worlds is very thin. You felt the pull.”
“The pull?”
“There’s a presence there that will call to your spirit. Some people never feel it, but if you’re sensitive to it, you will hear it.”
She’d heard a woman singing now three different times since her arrival, and each time the song had beckoned her, drawing her away from where she was, and into the unknown. This must be the presence he was referring too. Was it attempting to call her through the portal? The thought was paralyzing, causing her to shiver, despite the mugginess of the morning. She hugged her arms with her hands, hoping Falcon wouldn’t notice her trembling.
He knocked the ashes from his cigarette, and then took a seat on the rock next to her. Again, he spoke as if he was reading her thoughts.
“The presence will speak to your spirit, not your mind, so don’t waste your time trying to find the logic in everything, and don’t waste time being frightened. Listen to it, it will empower you, give you courage, guiding you into the truth.”
He took another draw and expelled a long slow trail of smoke. His eyes were reminiscing, and she could tell his thoughts were literally worlds away.
“Eden’s beauty is a lot like that of Moonshine.” He changed the subject, attempting to steer her thinking away, and although the description of his world was intriguing, she couldn’t stop thinking of the portal.
“There are many lakes, rivers, streams, oceans. There is a lot of water. All of it is pure and unpolluted. Eden’s climate is tropical, with much vegetation. The rest of our earth is a lot like yours, with different climates in various regions. It’s all very beautiful. We eat only the food we get from plants. We never consume meat of any kind. We have many species of animals, none that we have lost to extinction. We live among them without fear. There are no wild beasts; all are tame, existing among humanity. We communicate with them through our thoughts. We have the same ability with each other, if we choose to communicate in that way. We have no need of cell phones; we summon each other with our minds. If I wished to speak with Travis right now, I would simply concentrate and call on him in my thoughts. Much like this world’s attempts at praying, except you all are not tuned into the listening part of it.”
His words interested her. She had always found praying to be a difficult task and as Falcon described it, a one ended conversation.
“How do get your mind to tune into the listening?”
He flicked the burning ashes onto the ground, took a small draw, and expelled the smoke. “That’s the problem; you try to accomplish things with your mind. God will never speak to your brain, Scribe. He will only speak to your heart. When you learn how to listen with your spirit, you will hear his answers.”
He took another drag of his cigarette, this time expelling the smoke very slowly, letting her contemplate his answer, as he watched a hawk glide overhead. Again, his mind seemed very far away.
“In Eden, we possess the ability to fly.”
Her heart leaped with that statement. Often in her sleep, she would have dreams of flying. She would be running and without warning, her feet would leave the ground in flight as her body soared higher and higher, past the tops of trees, higher than the clouds. The feeling was always euphoric. She reasoned that was probably what Falcon missed the most, hence the bird name.
Both were quiet for some time. Nothing but the sound of trickling water touched their ears. The light lessened as dark gray clouds began to fill the sky, obscuring the brightness and warmth of the sun. A sudden gust of wind blew, stirring up a few fallen leaves and bringing the smell of rain. Within a few moments, Falcon jumped to his feet. Again, he tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground, crushing it under the heel of his bare foot.
“Let’s go, Scribe.”
“Go where?”
“I’ll give you a ride back to the inn before it rains.”
“I like walking in the rain.”
He climbed on his bike and stared at her through his dark glasses. “I’m going to have a lot of trouble with you, aren’t I?”
“That depends on you. You give me trouble, I’ll give it right back.” She sighed and softened her voice. “Honestly, I’m not ready to head back. There will be so many questions. My friends know I was out all night.”
He considered the magnitude of what she said. “Let’s go for a ride, then. I won’t take you back just yet.”
She studied him, perched upon his sleek, high-speed motorcycle. Just a few days ago he terrified her, spinning her across the lawn, and all the while he was protecting her from a would-be assassin. His ways were a bit unorthodox, and although she wasn’t sure she trusted him completely, she no longer feared him as she had before.
She broke into a smile, then climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his hard stomach. He quickly placed his hair in a ponytail, to keep it from whipping into her face, and then started the engine. He raced down the narrow highway, taking the curves at tremendous speed. At any other time, she would have screamed in fear, protesting, demanding the driver slow down. However, she felt very confident in his ability to maneuver the heavy bike. Besides, if it was his sworn duty to protect her, he wouldn’t risk her life by crashing his bike, so she rested in the fact that he knew what he was doing, and before long found herself enjoying the intense thrill of the ride. He drove for a while longer before he made a speedy U-turn and stopped on the side of the road.
He looked back. “You alright?”
“It’s great,” she said.
“Rain’s coming. You ready to get back, or do you want to go somewhere else?”
Bronwyn had much rather go somewhere else, but she knew she should not delay the inevitable. The longer she was gone, the more intense the questioning would be. She sighed. “I guess I’d better go back.”
“To the inn it is.” He took off at incredible speed once again. The rain began to fall just as he whipped the bik
e into the Inn’s driveway. Bronwyn was surprised to see a strange car sitting out front, and everyone crowded on the front porch. Carla Jo was jumping up and down; her hands were covering her mouth. The entire troupe stood gathered around the driver of the car, but the sound of the approaching motorcycle drew everyone’s attention. All eyes focused on her, arriving with Falcon. Pure perplexity stretched across Bethany’s face.
Climbing from the motorcycle her eyes suddenly fell upon the driver of the car - her heart sunk.
Ryan.
The one person she never expected to see at Sandalwood Inn.
She stood by the bike, her strength escaping her. Unwilling to move her feet, she remained where she was as the rain fell on her face.
“Look who showed up,” Bethany announced sarcastically, breaking the silence.
“I can’t believe he’s here, on my porch!” Carla Jo squealed as she continued her jumping.
“Hello, Bronwyn.”
The sound of his voice knotted her stomach. “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t returning any of my calls, so I came in person.”
“How did you know where to find me?” She demanded suspiciously, while remaining planted by the bike.
“Who is this man?” Falcon interrupted then stepped in front of her to block Ryan’s view.
“You don’t know Ryan Reese?” Carla Jo exclaimed, shocked.
Ryan bravely descended the porch steps and stood directly in front of Falcon. “I’m her fiancé,” he answered, sizing up the beefy motorcycle rider.
“Ex- fiancé,” Bronwyn said.
Falcon stood his ground, unmoving. “What do you want with her?”
“What business is it of yours?” Ryan bit back. “Are you dating her now?”
“And if I am?” He removed his dark glasses revealing his penetrating eyes and deep scar.
“Look. I don’t want any trouble from you mountain people. There’s no need to pull out your sawed-off shotguns, I just came to speak with Bronwyn.”
