Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me nor will I ever make any money from them. This story is completely made up for the enjoyment of all TLW fans. Have fun!!
Soul Searching
"The experiment Challenger is working on had better turn granite into gold," Marguerite Krux fumed upon entering the small, dismal cave. The wealthy heiress loathed the plateau in general, but the rain that forced them into this dirty hole was one of her greatest frustrations.
"Marguerite, Challenger explained that this experiment could lead to a new medicine that would help the Zanga village with its recent epidemic. You know as well as I do that we owe the Zanga a good deal, and helping them is not an unwarranted obligation," Lord John Roxton interjected with an air of frustration as he sat his backpack on the cold, cave floor. The hunter and protector of their small group always took the assistance he got from local tribes seriously. Over the past two years, the Zanga had saved their ragged bunch on more than one occasion.
"I know," Marguerite admitted with a shrug, "but I dread spending the night in this cave. Now that it has started raining, you know as well as I do that we will never make it home before dark." She dropped her bag on the ground next to Roxton's and sat.
He watched her for a moment as she began to comb her fingers through her damp hair. As beautiful as she was in the fading light of day, the wealthy socialite could make life so difficult. Looking beyond her tough exterior was a constant challenge that he took on regularly. Realizing she was right about the time it would take to return home though, Roxton changed his tactics to prevent the heiress from making the night miserable. "You know, I can think of worse places to be than alone in a abandoned cave with you."
She glanced up at him with playful eyes acknowledging his ploy to get her attention. "Oh yes? Well, what do you presume we do to occupy our time alone?" she questioned, bating doe-like eyes flirtatiously toward the hunter.
He crossed to her slowly and brushed the back of his hand gently across her cheek to remove a damp lock of hair. She followed his hand with her eyes and then took in a sharp, shallow breath as his other hand found its way to the small of her back. She lightly placed her hands against his chest in an unconvincing effort to stop his advance. She turned her focus back to meet his eyes as he brought his face close to hers. He murmured quietly, "Can I show you what I had in mind?"
She sensed his heart beating against the palm of her hand and smiled in an indication of her answer. He brought his lips to meet hers lightly. Teasing him with the tip of her tongue, she felt his breath shudder as he pulled her body full against his. The couple kissed passionately, allowing the carnal thrill of the moment to overtake them for once.
Roxton gingerly pushed her back against the cave wall and began to unbutton her lavender blouse. But with the touch of his hand against her sternum, Marguerite froze.
"What?" Roxton whispered, one hand still lingering at the second button of her blouse.
"I think we should get the cave ready for tonight, prior to any recreational activities," she breathlessly responded.
After hesitating a moment he replied, "Ever the rational one," and straightened up dejectedly.
"If you get the firewood, I will see what I have left in my bag for dinner," the heiress chirped apologetically as she straightened her clothes. Her protective instincts told her to still hide her feelings. She knew that he cared for her deeply, yet vulnerability was not one of the characteristics that she ever wanted to possess. Giving her one last fleeting look, Roxton grabbed his hat and rifle and left the damp cave with a huff.
*****
"Challenger," Ned Malone teased, "you need to pray that experiment of yours works."
"Why?" Professor George Challenger questioned as he sat down on the sofa, wiping sweat from his furrowed brow.
"It looks like rain, and you know Marguerite's reaction to being caught in a storm." By this time in their two-year adventure, the explorers all knew the idiosyncrasies of each other. Marguerite was quite prone to outbursts, and no one in the group was safe from her vengeance.
"Yes, you may be right. I will return to the lab to finish the first half of the experiment," he muttered, turning to move toward the lab as a crash of lightening illuminated the tree house.
"Well, I'm sure Roxton moved her to shelter for the night," Veronica claimed as she entered to sit on a chair by the hearth. "He would never risk their safety by moving in the dark."
"Ahh, one night of peace and quiet," the young journalist voiced, pleased that the bickering two-some would be safe yet out of earshot. Recently, they had all felt the tension rising between the couple. Obviously Roxton and Marguerite had feelings for each other; however, neither of them could get past their stubborn dispositions to succumb to their emotions.
"I for one hope they hurry. The Zanga need this cure if they are to stop the epidemic," Veronica quipped as she thought about the likelihood that Marguerite's tendency to sleep late might prevent their return until the following afternoon.
*****
"I guess I'll take a look at our little hole in the wall," Marguerite quietly mumbled, looking around the dim cave. The torch Roxton had left only provided enough light to illuminate a space two feet in front of her. She surveyed the ground for any sign of occupancy, but found nothing. "I guess we really are alone," she claimed with a slight smirk. Then, a small pouch lying at the deepest corner of the cave caught her eye. What have we here? she thought as she picked up the tiny bag and fingered the soft, rust colored leather. She sat down on the cave floor, pulling at the drawstring until it gave way. She opened the bag, grasped the handle of the object, and pulled out an ivory carved hand-mirror. "Is this it?" she asked aloud looking in the pouch for any remaining treasure. She turned the mirror over in her hand and traced the carving with her fingers, "Well, it is lovely." She noticed a slight scratch on the handle and put the mirror closer to the light. There, engraved in an intricate script, were the initials "MK."
******
Roxton trudged through the jungle gathering the last pieces of wood needed to maintain the campfire throughout the night. He thought about the passionate embrace shared between himself and Marguerite and smiled at the thought that there could be more to come later in the evening. Roxton realized the difficulty they both had experienced recently expressing their emotions. The tension had been almost unbearable for the past two weeks. He knew she cared for him more than she was willing to let on, but he also knew that his inability to verbalize his emotions did not help the situation. Maybe a night away from the rest of the gang would be just what they needed.
He approached the cave, dropped the wood near the entrance, and began to choose several large pieces to start the fire. Alarmed by a gasp from further in the cave, he turned quickly from his task to see Marguerite crouching in the opposite direction from his gaze.
"Marguerite? What's the matter?" he stammered, moving quickly across the cave.
"Nothing, I just burned my hand," she lied, trying not to sound too nervous. She did not want him to see the mirror just yet. The darkness of the cave shadowed her actions and she shoved it into her bag before he reached her side.
"Is it all right? I don't think we have any bandages here, but we can come up with something," he answered showing no distrust in her actions. He took the hand that she indicated to look for signs of serious injury but saw nothing in the dim light. "Why don't you sit down, and I will start the fire."
As the evening wore on, she tried to participate in the conversation, but soon she found her mind drifting toward the bundle haunting her from her bag. How could a mirror with her initials be waiting here in this cave? The fear that some former enemy was watching them or setting a trap terrified her and preoccupied her every thought.
"Why aren't you eating?" Roxton interrupted, a look of concern crossing his face.
"I am not hungry for fruit again tonight," she snapped, instantly sorry as a hurt expression replaced Roxton's concern. "I am going to get some rest. Wake me if you want me to take over the watch."
Roxton observed her as she adjusted the blanket to cover her enticing body. Disappointment filled him as he realized that they had once again missed an opportunity to share the more intimate side of their relationship. He added another piece of wood to the fire and got comfortable leaning against the cave wall.
*****
"Check mate," Veronica exclaimed as she reached across the board to grab Ned's king.
"Believe it or not, I will beat you one of these days, Veronica," he teased.
"We'll see," she replied, laughing at her victory over her friend. Moments like these helped her to get through the lonely times without her parents. She often thought of the couple how had left eleven years before and wondered how they would like Ned Malone, star reporter. He is kind, considerate, and a good friend. The fact that he is handsome doesn't hurt either. She smirked, watching him cross the room to return the chessboard.
"Do you hear that?" Ned asked, interrupting her thoughts and turning her attention to the now constant rhythm of distant drums.
"Yes," she replied, "I don't recognize the sound though."
"It could be a new tribe. We should check in the morning."
*****
Marguerite heard drums beating and she realized that she was no longer in the cave. The smell of burning wood permeated her nose, and she could sense intense heat below her. Dancing images whirling before her eyes. Peering right and left, she realized that the burning sensation was caused by the fact that her body was now levitating horizontally, three feet above a fire in the center of a large circle of people. Some wore face paint that distorted their features while others sang and danced, eyeing her as if she was the evening meal.
The drumming stopped and the circle broke revealing a man dressed much more elaborately than the scantly clad members of the tribe. His headdress stood six inches higher than the other men's did, and he carried a staff with a golden sphere decorating the end. Singing a verse in an unrecognizable dialect, he began a new dance moving clockwise around the circle. As he passed on her right, Marguerite could see the dark pupils in his eyes and a tingling started in the pit of her stomach. He made two final sweeping turns and stopped behind her head holding his staff high like a composer ready to signal the next movement. He swept his staff down through the air and the drums resumed, this time at a much faster tempo. The heat on her back was now intense and perspiration ran down her cheek. Matching the beat of her heart, the music's rhythm forced her to take part in this ritualized orchestra. The chief began muttering in a contorted voice, and although she tried to escape, it seemed as though invisible chains held her in place. The drums increased their speed, and she could hear the droning baritone voice maintaining a steady rhythm behind her. He raised his staff in one final sweeping movement, and her heart gave a lurch as she took a deep breath.
Instantly, Marguerite sat up peering around the dim cave and wiping her damp forehead. She tried to remember the exact nature of the vivid dream by closing her eyes. A mixture of swirling colors and distorted faces filled her thoughts and she shook her head in an effort to stop the memory. Her heart was racing and adrenaline coursed through her body. Knowing she would be unable to sleep, Marguerite quietly crept from the cave. She took a seat and noticed the sun rising above the horizon. It was early-- probably earlier than she had seen in weeks, but anything was better than spending another moment in that tomb.
Startled by a twig breaking just outside the cave, Roxton looked around to see where the noise had come from. The fire now consisted of a few embers peeking through the ash. He turned to check on Marguerite and realized that her blanket was empty. Jumping to his feet, he hurried to the exit and grabbed his rifle. He stumbled into the dawning sunlight and saw her sitting quietly to his right. Her arms curled around her knees, and her head rested as she stared into space. She seemed so small sitting there. He approached, and she turned her gaze to meet his.
"What are you doing up so early, My Lady?" he asked trying not to sound concerned.
"I couldn't sleep in that damn cave a second longer. I am ready to leave," she stated in a manner that did not befit the childlike image he had seen only moments before. He had a suspicion that something had happened, but her reaction made any further investigation at this point impossible. As a result, he returned to the cave and picked up their gear in preparation for the trip.
*****
Challenger emerged from his lab wearily wiping his eyes. The young journalist was setting the table for breakfast as Veronica prepared the meal. He took a seat at the table as she entered carrying a plate of fruit.
"Were you up all night?" Ned asked with concern.
"Yes, but I am finished with the first half of this experiment. Now when Roxton and Marguerite return, I can move quickly to finish this cure for the Zanga."
"I wouldn't plan on seeing those two for a while, Challenger. We all know Marguerite's sleep schedule."
"I know. I thought I could actually take a nap prior to their arrival."
Just as these final words were voiced, though, the elevator began to move behind them. A moment later Marguerite emerged from the center of the tree, looking rather worn and extremely agitated. Roxton also looked exhausted as he moved toward the group. The other explorers stared as Marguerite brushed past them to her room.
"So much for peace and quiet," Ned joked quietly to Veronica.
"We didn't expect you, Roxton. Let me get you a plate," Veronica said, moving into the kitchen. "What time did you wake up?"
"Marguerite awoke at dawn," he answered rubbing his head and sitting with a loud sigh. "To be honest, I did not plan on pushing too hard today, but she insisted we leave as soon as I woke up."
"Did something happen?" Challenger questioned remembering the unusual mood altering experiences they had lived through in the past two years.
"Not that I know. She was terribly quiet last night, but I only left her alone for twenty minutes," he explained with a slight note of fear ringing in his voice.
"She is probably in one of her moods," Ned responded.
"And what moods are those pray tell?" Marguerite asked venomously, emerging from her room. She carried a towel, brush, and clean clothes as she moved toward the elevator. "I am going to the pond. I will return in an hour," she claimed as she turned her back on the group.
"You are not going alone," Roxton stated in an authoritative voice.
"Excuse me?" the heiress asked turning slowly to face the hunter.
Recognizing the mistake he had made in commanding her to do anything, he spurted out, "Veronica will go with you," and shot a pleading look at the younger woman.
Hesitating a moment she quipped, "Have it your way." Marguerite stepped into the elevator and Veronica leapt to join her, giving Roxton a glaring gaze as the machine descended.
*****
At the pond the young, blonde woman sat on a rock facing the jungle as the brunette tiptoed into the cool water. After taking a moment to adjust to the temperature, Marguerite swam out to the center and wet her hair. She took a deep breath and sighed trying to release the tension from the day. She knew she had been too hard on Roxton, but as a result of her dream, alarm currently outweighed reason. She knew that if she told him, he would worry and nothing made her feel that a real threat existed. Yet, her thoughts continued to twist in her mind as the water flowed around her circling arms. After a moment, though, she finally began to relax.
"Excuse me," a whispering, windy voice interrupted. She turned around looking for its origin. "Excuse me, don't be afraid."
"Show yourself and-"
"Shh!" the childish, high-pitched voice expressed fervently.
"Marguerite," Veronica asked turning to face the pond, "are you all right?"
"Fine, I just stepped on a rock," she returned, still searching for the whisper. "Where are you, you little creep?"
"Be nice or I will vanish and so will your fortune," sang the voice in a know-it-all manner. Then as if appearing from the breeze off the water, the image of a small, elf-like girl of about thirteen stood in front of her. Her hair was long and blonde and her eyes were a rare greenish-blue that seemed to reflect off of the water magically.
"What do you mean, fortune?" Marguerite asked, suspicion evident in her voice.
"I have come to ask a favor, and in return you will receive your fortune."
"What favor?" Marguerite questioned, glancing back at the blonde to check that she could not hear.
"First you must know that what I speak is the truth, but it may be hard to hear," the girl murmured quietly. "I am Itona. You are descended from my tribe. The birthmark that is on your back is evidence." At this the tiny girl lifted her arm to show Marguerite a matching birthmark just under her elbow. "Your great-great grandparents left the plateau for Europe 150 years ago. Their exile was caused by an evil chief from the neighboring tribe. Our tribe, the Tanara, possesses great powers and our enemies often fear that we will try to take over the land. The Surenza had fought with our ancestors for hundreds of years. Now you are the last of your family to live and we ask that you come to our village for one night."
Marguerite stood motionless for several seconds allowing the shock of this information to sink in. "What will that do?"
"You will learn about your heritage and our people will hopefully learn of the fate of two of their most legendary heroes," she said, her eyes focused on the woman. "Then, you can take your inheritance and leave the following morning."
"What inheritance?" Marguerite questioned in an effort to detect lying.
"Your family was in charge of trade with other surrounding tribes. As a result, they built a large fortune during their last years on the plateau. However, as the tribal wars became a threat to the family, they left entrusting the gold and jewels to their best friend for safekeeping. That friend was my great-great-great grandfather. My family had always hoped for an ancestor to return baring good news of our friends."
Intrigued by the idea of wealth and her family history, the heiress asked, "Where is your village? My friend and I-"
"No. You must come alone," Itona insisted. "Only those whose soul is connected to our someone in our village can see it. No one besides you will be able to enter-- I am sorry."
"I am not sure that I can get away alone," Marguerite replied already hearing the argument that would ensue due to this plan.
"Meet me as the sun reaches its highest point today. I will wait at the edge of the jungle near your tree house," and with this last instruction the girl disappeared.
*****
The ladies entered the tree house in silence. Roxton sat discussing the plan for the rest of the day with Malone. The pair huddled looking at the rough maps Challenger and Veronica's parents had devised.
"What are you working on?" Veronica questioned.
"Just looking for the path we will take later this morning," Ned replied.
"Let me help," she offered, moving to sit next to the reporter.
In an attempt to see if her mood had changed, Roxton gazed at Marguerite as she stood over their makeshift sofa, but she seemed too consumed by her thoughts to notice his stare. After several moments she went to her room without a word. Excusing himself, he grabbed a plate of food and descended the short staircase to her room. Veronica and Malone, absorbed in the maps, never noticed his exit.
He entered her room and his breath caught in his throat as he saw her reflection. She sat facing away from him her back to the mirror. Her blouse was draped down around her bare shoulders and her head twisted to see the image. She looked stunning and if he wasn't a gentleman he would have sat quietly waiting to see what would happen next; however, he quietly coughed to alert her to his presence and averted his eyes. "I am sorry. I just thought you should eat something. It has been awhile since you ate a normal meal." Ready for a sharp retort, he paused.
She quickly adjusted her blouse and looked in his direction, but her tone did not have the same edge that it had had this morning. "Thank you. I am sorry that I was so cross earlier. I was just tired and irritable. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
Slightly stunned be her response, yet taking it as a sign to continue, he crossed to her vanity. A mirror he did not recognize lay face down on the table. The hunter moved it to the side and sat the plate in front of her. He took a seat on the edge of her bed and asked his next question cautiously, "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes," she emphasized, moving to sit next to him on the bed. "I am tired of everyone asking me that. Nothing is wrong. I just need a little rest."
"Ned and I are going to hunt for a village he thought he had heard last night, and Challenger and Veronica are taking medicine to the Zanga. Why don't you try to relax while we are out?"
"Will you be home tonight?" she asked thinking her escape might work out easier than she had thought.
He smiled at her concerned question and returned, " Yes, he said the drums sounded very close, so we should be back by dusk."
Marguerite froze when at the word "drums" remembering the images from her dream the night before. Roxton sensed the tension in her body and placed his callused hand gently over hers. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she lied. His eyes narrowed with concern and she felt her defenses weaken. "It's silly," she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "Last night I had a nightmare and in it there were drums playing. That's it."
"Are you sure?" he asked, seeing the worried expression she was trying to cover.
"Yes."
"Is that why you left the cave this morning?"
"No, I just couldn't sleep," she responded, hoping he would believe her and stop prodding.
"Well, maybe I should stay with you," he said, sure that there was more to this dream than she was explaining. This strong woman did not scare easily and yet there was definitely a hint of alarm in her voice and actions.
"No!" she spurt out too quickly. She paced her next words in hope of not sounding desperate, "I think it is more important to figure out where these drums originate."
Knowing that she had a point and that she would be safe here, he stood and brushed the top of her head with a light kiss. "Get some rest and do not leave the tree house."
*****
After circling the thick jungle for several hours, Roxton and Malone decided that the tribal drums were not close enough to cause any immediate harm. They figured they would listen again that evening to get a better sense of direction. The pair returned to the tree house just before noon.
Stepping off the elevator, they noticed Marguerite, having obviously misplaced something, searching the great room anxiously. With her book in one hand, she looked hurriedly under the table and chairs.
"What are you looking for?" Malone asked, amused by the heiress who was now crouching to hunt under the sofa.
"My brush," she answered in agitation as she stood once again.
"Where did you have it last?" Roxton asked beginning to aid in the search.
She paused thinking for a second, then ran toward the elevator, "I must have dropped it when we came through the fence. I'll be right back."
"Do you want me to come?" Roxton asked.
"I will be right back," she restated. "Relax—you two look terrible."
"Thanks!" they responded sarcastically.
She rode the elevator to the jungle floor and searched the edge for Itona. The men's unexpectedly quick return had forced her to rethink her exit. Pleased with her last minute improvisation, she smiled hoping that the pair would not be too worried.
Meanwhile, Roxton entered his room hoping to catch up on some much-needed rest. He immediately noticed the envelope lying across his pillow. "John" was scrawled on the front of it in Marguerite's penmanship. In confusion he unfolded the letter.
The young reporter fell backwards onto the sofa with all intentions of resting for half an hour. He sat up quickly though when an object prodded his back. He turned to find a damp towel and Marguerite's brush resting on the pillow. He ran toward the balcony and yelled her name in an effort to halt her search, "Marguerite!"
"She's gone," Roxton interrupted bluntly. "She left me this note."
*****
Marguerite followed the young child carefully through the brush, noting the path they traveled. Ever cautious, she planned an escape root by tearing pages from her book and leaving them in numerical order every five or ten feet. She figured she would be able to find her way back to the tree house if this outing did not go as planned. The girl had unending energy and moved quickly ahead of the woman. She rarely turned to look back, so thus far Marguerite's plan was working.
*****
"What?" Ned asked, stunned by the hunter's blunt statement.
"She is gone. She will be back tomorrow," the hunter's anxiety was written across his creased brow and worried eyes. "I just can't understand why she didn't take one of us." Malone knew Roxton felt she should have asked him to accompany her. His feelings for Marguerite were obvious to the whole group.
"What does the note say?" the journalist questioned motioning to the paper in his hand.
"Read it yourself," Roxton said, thrusting the note at Malone. His anger was now setting in and he was quite furious with the dark-haired beauty that had just duped them.
Ned sat at the table and read the note aloud.
Dear John,
I know you will be angry with me for leaving, but know that it could not be helped. This morning I met a young girl who had the same birthmark I have on my back. She informed me that I am a descendent of her tribe. I feel I need to investigate this possibility. I know nothing of my history and this could be a key piece to the puzzle. I promise that I will explain this in detail tomorrow. Please don't worry.
Marguerite
"Why would she trust this child so willingly?" Ned asked puzzled by the heiress' vague information.
The hunter paused, deciding on his next words carefully, "Do you have any recollection of our experience when Marguerite was attacked by Druids the first year we were here on the plateau? She was known to this tribe as 'Morgana'." Only recently had the memory of this adventure seeped back into his mind. He was sure that if he remembered, then Marguerite would recollect these events as well.
"Yeah, I vaguely remember her birthmark playing a role in her identification," Ned responded.
"Do you remember the interest these people had in her powers? They claimed she was the 'chosen one'," he uttered pacing the room as a new wave of dismay swept through him, "If someone feels she is a threat, she could be in danger. I am going after them."
"I'll go with you," Malone volunteered as they grabbed their guns and descended on the elevator. They looked for tracks on the jungle floor but did not see any change in the growth. "How is it possible for her and this child to have completely disappeared?" Ned asked looking on the north side of the tree house.
"I don't know, but I am sure this creature and its tricks are intentional," Roxton claimed feeling more confident of his instincts with each passing moment. He brushed the large leafy bush to his right as a small torn paper caught his eye. He grabbed it and yelled for Malone. "What do you make of this?"
"The reporter took the small fragment and turned it to either side noticing the numbers in the upper corner. "Pages one and two from her book-- she had it in her hand when she left the tree house."
"There is no struggle here," the hunter replied turning in a circle for evidence of a problem. Suddenly he spotted a second torn piece a few feet from the first. "I think Gretel is leaving us a bread crumb trail."
"I hope the book is long," Malone stated as he noted the second set of numbers, "three and four."
*****
After a thirty-minute walk, Marguerite entered the village following her young guide. Her face showed the shock she felt at seeing the primitive huts and hearth in the middle of an area that she and the group had traveled numerous times. The huts were arranged in a circular pattern facing a main square. Made of mud and thatch, each was hung with rich, colorful fabric inviting the new guest through its open doors. The collage of color and people began to mix as villagers emerged and stared at the newcomer. An unusual centerpiece stood in the middle of the square. Four glimmering, metallic-silver orbs stood on posts around an open hearth. Stemming from the middle of the fired ground was a staff crowned with a smaller golden sphere. The five-point pattern held her gaze for a moment until the door of the large dwelling behind the circle swung open and revealed a large man. His sun bronzed skin and long dark hair with hints of gray peeking though reflected his age to be that of a man of fifty years old. He moved towards her guide asking in a vaguely familiar language if this was the chosen one. With this question Marguerite remembered her experience two years before and wondered at the connection.
"Yes," Itona reported, "she has come to learn of her ancestors and collect her inheritance."
"Fine, fine," he responded clasping the little one's shoulder and moving close to Marguerite. He turned toward her and his black eyes shone as he greeted her in a primitive language; "I am pleased you agreed to visit our village. Please come with me to my home. We will fix you something to wet your throat. You must be thirsty."
Inside the tent Marguerite allowed her eyes to adjust to her surroundings and took the seat offered by the man. "I am Tunka. I am the chief of this village. We have been searching for you for quite a long time."
"I don't understand," Marguerite questioned, "how did you know I was on the plateau?"
"We heard about your assistance to the Druids last year. We have searched for you ever since," he replied shifting his gaze to the young girl now entering the hut with a large mug of liquid. "Drink this—it will help you regain your strength after your journey."
Marguerite grasped the steaming cup and took a small, cautious sip. It was the same tea Veronica had shown them how to make during their first days on the plateau. She could not sense any true danger so she decided to let her guard down slightly and asked, "What do you know of my family?"
He began pacing the cabin as his even voice told the story of her ancestors. "You are descended from Maura and Jacard. They are legends in our village. They fought their enemies with great passion and for that reason they were wanted dead. After some time they left to find a safer life in Europe. They took their small infant, Sari, your great-grandmother. They never returned, and we have often wondered about their lives. That, my dear," he said, lowering his eyes and examining her for a her reaction," is where my story ends and yours begins." His eyes shifted to the small girl who now smiled at Marguerite. Suddenly, Itona's shape became blurry and reappeared as a woman her own age. She had straight, blonde hair that hung down her slender figure and her eyes were the same unusual shade of bluish-green. The lovely face was marred, though, by an ugly grin that told of her evil nature before she spoke a word.
"Ahh," she sighed, "much better." She moved towards Marguerite and circled her like a tiger does its prey. "You are considered chosen because you are the last from your tribe to exist on the plateau. That won't be for long though," she explained, her voice lowering to a deep hiss. "She really is lovely, Father, and if my memory serves me correctly, she is the spitting image of her mother, wouldn't you say?"
Marguerite's breath caught on these last words as she turned to face the woman. A wave of dizziness took her by surprise and she stepped, adjusting her feet to catch her balance. "What do you mean, my mother? How would you know anything about her?"
"Well, they did return to find her relatives and we killed them," Itona relayed to the stunned heiress sounding rather matter-of-fact. A second bout of dizziness struck her, and her heart began to race. She looked down at the cup she was holding and then returned her gaze to the woman who stood before her. Her eager eyes told Marguerite that the tea was laced.
She managed to utter the question, "You… killed… my parents?" before collapsing on the cold, mud floor.
*****
"Two hundred and fifty-one," Malone called out to the hunter. They had tracked the paper trail through the very area that they had searched earlier in the day. "I don't understand how we could have missed an entire village. We would have seen smoke or some form of life."
"Unless the creature has led her farther than we searched, " the hunter responded eyeing the ground for the next clue. He grabbed another number and handed it to Malone.
"Roxton," the reporter paused, "this is the last one-- only one number. Do you think she ran out-"
"No," the hunter interrupted, "she is too intelligent to let that happen. This place has to be around here-- start searching."
"We have been through this area many times, Roxton. We are not going to find anything different."
"We have to," he responded with urgency. Both men began investigating the area. The hunter turned to the north to start a careful search when a glimmering reflection caught his eye. He stepped through the brush toward the glow and gasped as he saw a village not twenty feet away. A group of five orbs stood in the center of the town square. Stumbling back to the reporter he smiled and confirmed, "I found it."
*****
Marguerite struggled to open her eyes and could hear the mumbling of her captors from the opposite side of the hut. She sat up slowly and the memories of the day's events came flowing back. As she tried to stand the same dizziness overtook her body, and forced her to remain on the floor leaning against her hands. Upon noticing her movement, Tunka looked toward her. "You must be powerful to regain consciousness after the drugs that were in that tea," he stated in an air of admiration. "I look forward to sharing your strength tonight. You are probably even more powerful than your mother."
Fearful of what he meant, Marguerite demanded he answer a few of her questions, "How do you know that I am the one you are looking for? How do you know they were my parents?"
Changing the subject he asked innocently, "Did you get the mirror?"
The heiress stammered a response, "How do you know-?"
"The mirror was your mother's. We planted it in the cave to get your attention." The man, whose pupils gleamed black, continued, "Your parents returned here in search of your mother's heritage thirty years ago. Before she died she begged for her life because of her young daughter, Marguerite, whom they had left at home." Tunka stepped forward and cupped her face roughly whispering the next words with warm, sour breath, "She fought her fate adamantly, but no one has ever succeeded in escaping our vengeance."
*****
Roxton moved stealthily towards the village and held his arm out indicating the direction in which Ned was to look. "I don't see anything, Roxton," Ned replied straining his eyes. "I am sorry."
"How is this possible? You must see the five metal spheres in the center of the town or the twenty huts that surround the square."
"Roxton, are you sure that you are not hallucinating? Maybe you just want her back so badly that you are creating a mirage of sorts," he rationalized.
"No, a hallucination can not be this vivid," the hunter insisted. "I know she is in there. The question is how do we get her out?"
*****
Marguerite sat awestruck allowing the information she had just learned to sink in. If this story was true, her parents had not abandoned her. On the contrary, they could not return to her because this madman murdered them. I am not sure which one is better. The pain she had felt at their assumed betrayal was now melting away and a new sense of depravation was embedding itself in her mind. She knew that now was not the time to ponder these mysteries though. She had to find a way to escape. The guards came in and grabbed Marguerite from her spot on the dirt floor and drug her brutally into the bright sunlight. She knew Roxton would have received her note by now explaining her absence, but she held out hope that he would ignore her instructions to wait for her return. She needed his hunting instincts now more than ever.
*****
"Wait," Roxton hushed, pulling Malone into a low squat, "I see her. She appears to be alright." At this point he noticed the villagers dressed in ritualistic garb holding the orbs at four points around a now roaring fire. A rotund man about ten years his senior walked out of the hut following Marguerite. He wore a headdress higher than the other villagers and carried the staff that had once been held in the center of the fire. He muttered something indistinguishable and the drums began to play rhythmically.
At this noise he saw Marguerite's body lurch in an effort to escape, but they brutally regained control by wrestling her arms behind her back. A woman with long, poker straight blonde hair approached her and a slap resounded through the jungle. Roxton suppressed the urge to run into the village knowing her safety depended on his skilled patience.
"I can hear the drums," Malone stated trying to put the pieces together. "They are the same as last night. These people can not have been here very long or we would have heard them before this."
Just then Roxton saw the entire village stop as the chief raised his staff. He proceeded to walk around Marguerite speaking to her but loud enough that the people in his village could hear. "Hundreds of years ago this woman's tribe, the Tanara, fought us in an effort to overtake the plateau. Her ancestors killed many of our people. She is the last of her tribe alive on the plateau. Her return to this land is a sign from the gods that final revenge is in our hands, "he proclaimed as the crowd around Marguerite cheered. "We have observed the souls of her ancestors rise before us and merge with our own. Her soul is powerful and with it as the final piece to the puzzle, we will be invincible." Roxton noted the fear cross Marguerite's face as the chief uttered these final words.
Suddenly with an enormous upsweep of the orbed rod, a light flew through the air and hit her sending and energy through her body. A tingling sensation started in her toes and worked its way though her limbs. She began to float- vertically at first, but then her body rotated horizontally so that she was on her back. Her eyes widened in fear and the details of her dream rushed back into the front of her mind.
From twenty feet away, Roxton watched in terror as some unknown force carried her high above the ground. The silver spheres, held tightly by the four men, were now glowing with a force streaming towards her. She hung in midair above the fire, which leapt at her back. He knew that he needed to be there for her-- to save her from this torture-- but he was not sure how to accomplish this task. He surveyed the situation in anguish and soon his plan began to formulate.
Just as in her dream, the villagers began to circle her body dancing and humming to the rhythmic pulse of the drums. She now remembered the fire leaping at her back and twisted, trying to free herself. Pain seared through her arms and legs as she wrestled with the force that held her. Her scream pierced the air and she arched her back to avoid the flames below.
The men turned their heads toward the village at the sound of Marguerite's cry. Roxton's heart ached at the pain in her strained voice. He knew that this was the time to put their plan into effect. They crept silently into the village and began to make their way toward the square. Malone followed the hunter, still unable to see the images if the village before them. Ten feet from the center Roxton indicated Ned's next direction, and the younger man moved toward the opposite end of the town.
The drumming stopped and the circle broke revealing the chief. He sang a verse of a chant and began a new dance moving clockwise around the circle. As he passed on her right, Marguerite could see the dark pupils in his eyes. She gave a startled moan as he made two sweeping turns that stopped behind her head. She barely breathed as she waited for his next movement. With great force, Tunka swept his staff down through the air and the drums resumed. The chief began muttering in a low voice. She tried to escape once again, but to no avail. The drums increased their speed, and she could hear the droning baritone voice maintaining a steady rhythm behind her. He raised his baton in one final sweeping movement and her heart gave a lurch as she took a deep breath.
The hunter saw the chief once again lower his staff. He knew he had to wait for Ned to cause the first distraction, but as her body went into a convulsed spasm he held his breath and tears filled his eyes. Ned's explosion caught his attention and he raced toward the now dissipating circle of people. A second explosion from a new location caught the attention of the four guards holding the glowing spheres. He knocked one guard to the ground, and the silver orb that held her right arm broke into pieces. The chief observed the situation and demanded the blonde's assistance. Roxton managed to get a shot at the orb holding Marguerite's left leg before she tackled him. They wrestled for a moment before the third and final explosion thundered behind his head. The woman, who sat heavily upon his chest and ferociously clawed his face and neck, looked up startled. In that moment Roxton rolled forcefully to his left and she fell back hitting her head on one of the hearth's stones. He struggled to his feet and searched the area for his gun. An ephemeral entity had begun to float away from Marguerite's body. Her small frame continued to shake as the golden orb from the chief's staff shot light toward her body.
"Roxton, I am beginning to see her," Malone stated running towards the now devastated circle. As the orbs had broken, the power they had held seemed to disappear. The village was beginning to appear. The villagers had run to put out the flames and now only two guards and the chief stood around the still levitating figure. "What is happening to her?"
"They are killing her," he answered as his eyes narrowed and he aimed his gun at the third silver orb.
"Hold it,' Malone interrupted putting a hand on Roxton's shoulder, "we need to insure that she'll not fall into the flames. I will catch her-- you shoot."
Once Malone was in place, Roxton did not hesitate any longer. The remaining silver spheres exploded sending Marguerite the short distance into the reporter's arms. She was not breathing. Ned looked anxiously toward his friend knowing the situation was grave. The angry hunter turned his attention to the chief and he took aim at the final orb situated on the end of the long rod. The older man, still consumed with vengeance, glared at Malone who now cautiously moved Marguerite to the ground. The ghostly mass of particles continued to flow from her body to the sphere. Roxton fired, shattering it and stopping its activity instantly. The silvery entity lingered a moment above Marguerite's body before she gasped a deep breath and lay silent on the ground. Next Roxton moved toward the chief, his rage-filled eyes stating his intention.
"This is for her," he proclaimed, firing two shots, which killed the deranged man instantly. The hunter inhaled and turned to look at Marguerite's body. Her chest rose slightly and an overwhelming wave of relief swept through his body. He realized that they needed to get her back to the tree house where Challenger could look after her. He knelt beside her and ran his fingers lightly across her cheek, examining her body for scrapes and bruises. Remarkably, she seemed relatively unharmed by this experience. He leaned in to whisper, slowly breathing against her ear. Startling him from this private moment, two shots resonated and he instinctively guarded Marguerite's body. When he looked up, Ned stood in front of them, gun in hand. Itona lay on the ground several feet behind him, knife clenched in her strong hand.
*****
Roxton rested on the hard wooden floor of the tree house covered by a rough, wool blanket. Three days had past since they had struggled back to the tree house. During that time Marguerite had not woken. The hunter's anxiety grew with each passing hour and as a result, he had been holding vigil in her room since their return. Challenger claimed that there was nothing wrong with her physically except sheer exhaustion, yet the thought of the close call she had experienced in the hands of that madman would not leave his mind.
Now in the darkest hours of night he tossed and turned restlessly. A quiet shuffling of fabric told him that she had moved and he instantly sat reaching to light the candle. He knelt beside the bed and in the dim light of the flame, he could see Marguerite lying on her side facing him. Her eyes glowed in the warm light and she looked more exquisite than he could ever remember. Smiling, she offered her hand weakly and Roxton caressed the soft skin of her palm.
"How are you feeling?" he asked in a whisper, giving her a relieved smile.
"Confused, "she replied in a hoarse voice. He took the water glass from the night table and allowed her a slow drink.
"Malone and I brought you back," he explained.
"How did you find me?"
"We followed your bread trail," he responded smiling and replacing the water on the table. A confused look crossed Marguerite's face. "The numbers- from the book."
She nodded lying back on her pillow, glad that she had not let her guard down completely when she left with her young guide. "Once the trail ended how were you able to see the anything? They told me the village was invisible."
"It was, but somehow I was able to see it," he stated honestly. "Malone couldn't see it until the orbs started to break. They must have been the protective forces maintaining invisibility for the entire village."
"The invisibility is the reason Itona said I had to go alone. She explained that only the people whose soul was connected to the people in the village could see it," as soon as the words were out Marguerite blushed realizing that Roxton might have seen through the protective shield because of her presence in the village. She quickly turned her head to hide the color in her cheeks and prayed that he did not make the connection.
Roxton noticed her discomfort and realized what she must be thinking. Truth be told, he had thought the same explanation possible. He had wanted her safe in his arms so badly that he would have seen through steel if necessary. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder caressing it with his forefinger. "You still need your rest."
"John," she interrupted. "Will you hand me the mirror on my vanity?"
"Marguerite, you look beautiful," he said, slightly frustrated by her vain concern.
"I just want to see it. It was my mother's," she whispered.
Startled by this new information, he handed her the mirror. "I never knew. I'm sorry." He sat next to her on the bed as she delicately ran her fingers over the engraved letters.
"Neither did I," she replied softly, "Maura Jacard Krux was her name." Not wanting to disclose all that she had learned at this time, Marguerite laid back with a sigh indicating her intention to rest. Roxton took the mirror and laid it next to the water glass.
"I'll go, "he said leaning in closely. She could sense his warmth and familiar scent. The heiress knew that she was taking a risk by admitting she needed him, but she wanted to freeze that moment and feel safe with him at her side.
"Don't leave, "she pleaded quietly, "wait until I fall asleep." Her eyes stared intently at his ruggedly handsome face and she reveled in the connection she felt to him at this moment. He cupped her cheek and stroked it with his thumb for a moment before kissing her lightly on the forehead. He pulled his face back to look at her, but he remained so close she could feel his sweet, warm breath against her skin. Instinctively she touched his cheek and pulled him toward her. Their lips melted together for several seconds in a tender kiss revealing the emotions that had overcome both of their stubborn souls.
Releasing each other from their embrace, Roxton ordered in a breathy voice, "Sleep." He returned to the chair but held her hand gently until her eyes closed and her breathing became regular.
*****
Several days later, the heiress seemed to be back to normal as she made her way to the breakfast table for the first time. The lively group celebrated over their meal, reunited and healthy. Challenger filled the air with questions directed at Marguerite, trying to make sense of the unusual occurrences Roxton had described. Cautiously the heiress left out the information she had learned of her parents not sure she was ready to reveal this piece of her past. After the story of the village was retold and dissected several times, Challenger sat back in his chair puzzled by the images his three friends had explained.
"The question I have is where did you first see the shape-shifter, Itona, and why did you trust her?" Roxton asked, frustration evident in his voice.
"I saw her at the pond," Marguerite started. " She appeared safe enough, and she had the same birthmark. Not to mention, she offered me…" her voice trailed off momentarily, "knowledge of my family's history."
"She didn't suggest anything else?" he questioned a smirk moving across his face. Her hesitation had hinted at another reason she would have ventured out on her own, but he wanted her to admit it.
"No," the heiress replied indignantly. She stood quickly, turning to hide a crimson blush. Leave it to Lord Roxton to see through me. Her hand covered her grin and she called back to the group, "I am going for a swim."
"No you're not," the hunter commanded, "- not alone you're not. I'll go with you."
Shooting him a defiant glare, she moved toward the elevator. "You had better bring a book then because I fully intend on taking my time." She stepped onto the platform and he joined her instantly.
"I won't need one," he bragged as he pulled the lever and the machine began its descent. "The view will keep me entertained perfectly. "
"I don't think so," she replied as the couple disappeared from sight. The three remaining adventurers sat at the table maintained their composure until the elevator had reached the jungle floor. Then with a loud burst, the group's self-restraint crumbled and laughter rang through the tree house.
"Peace at last," Malone joked as they overheard the sound of their two friends' bickering trail off through the jungle.