Guardians of Treasures Untold

Part One: 9/10.

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1-8.

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Roxton awoke slowly as the first rays of sunlight began to shine through the small window. He stretched his arms to find the bed empty. Forcing himself to sit up, he surveyed the room- she wasn't there.

Irrationally worried, he paused to put on his trousers before going out into the common rooms to look for her.

"Marguerite?" he called out softly, for fear of waking the others.

The slight ruffle of leaves to his right alerted him to her presence out on the balcony.

"Up so early?" he said as he joined her at the railing.

"Well, you know what they say, early bird catches the worm," she replied half-heartedly, not looking at him.

He frowned at her response as the hairs on his neck began to prick up. Marguerite's moods may be capricious, but if the past three years had taught him anything, it was that they were not without a logic of their own. Something had happened since last night and he was determined to find out what.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She toyed absentmindedly with her locket, running it up and down its slim chain.

"Marguerite"

"Nothing!- nothing of any importance anyway. I just couldn't sleep much last night," she said exasperatedly, turning around to put her back up against the rail. She looked up at his face and noticed the concern writ on his features. "Not your fault, Roxton."

He suppressed a sigh of relief but the concern remained. She still wasn't herself since her accidents. "Was it your head? Challenger said that with injuries such as these"

"It's not my bloody head!" she hissed. "I had a dream, alright?"

"A nightmare?"

"Not quite. I don't know what it was, a dream, a vision, a memory" she threw her hands up in disgust.

"Maybe I can help. The least I could do is tell you if it happened- if it is a memory," he said softly, taking one of her hands into his own. "You can trust me, you know.

She looked up at him then, and the sheer gratitude and surprise he beheld in her eyes nearly overwhelmed him.

She didn't know how to respond. She heard his voice inside her head -- "all your secrets will be safe with me" — but she couldn't place it. Had he said that to her? Had she imagined it?

She had spent the remainder of the night deep in thought, trying to make sense of the muddle her mind had become. Bits and pieces of her memory had come back but none of them fit together. Nothing made sense, least of all Roxton. He seemed to be everything that was perfect, perfect for her, and it unnerved her. How could it be, after a lifetime of heartache and betrayal, that this one man so conveniently appeared to fulfill her every desire?

Her past without him was the only thing she was certain of: beware of Greeks bearing gifts.

And yet, as she had told Veronica, she believed he was a good man. That she could trust him. She had even gone so far as to make up her mind to confide in him but now, faced with the actual proposition of doing so, she faltered.

"I-" she began and stammered, looking away from him again. "This is ridiculous. It was just a dream"

"What happened? Was it on the plateau?"

"No. No, it wasn't," she replied, her brow furrowing with thought. "It was in England."

"London during the war?"

"No, much earlier I think but there was fighting- women screaming, houses on fire, chaos everywhere and and a storm. There was a thunderstorm coming- I couldn't stop it," she shook her head in frustration. She wouldn't tell him about the end of the dream. She couldn't she felt a wave of nausea and swallowed hard.

"Who was it, who was fighting?" he asked tentatively, a sinking feeling developing in the pit of his stomach.

"The Druids," she replied in an awed voice.

He looked at her for a few moments, not knowing what to say. The man had said it was her destiny He was more inclined to believe that Bochra was taking advantage of Marguerite's temporary amnesia in order to save his own hide. "Do you believe that- or do you want to believe what Bochra tells you?" he asked in a tight, quiet voice.

"I don't know," came the whispered reply. "I saw something something terrible and so real I don't know what to think."

Roxton read her features as only he could after years of assiduous study. "You're going to do it, aren't you? You're going to help him- you don't even remember him!"

"Neither do you," she shot back defensively.

"Well, I guess I could come along"

"To keep me honest?" she finished, feeling an odd sense of deja vu again.

He grinned down at her and kissed her forehead lightly. "Shall we see if the patient's awake?"

She nodded eagerly in reply.

They found Challenger in Bochra's room, checking his bandages.

"Veronica told me about his late night adventure so I thought I had better check on him a bit early this morning," he said by way of greeting. Returning to his patient, he shook a stern finger. "You shouldn't be getting up out of bed in your condition. You're damn well lucky you didn't open those wounds again."

Bochra grimaced at his doctor and shot a hopeful look at Marguerite. "I trust you have thought about what I have told you?"

"I have."

"And you will assist me- us?"

"I will–"

"But not without assistance of her own," Roxton added, folding his arms and looking down at Bochra formidably. Bochra himself nodded solemnly in reply, a tacit understanding passing between the two men.

"What the devil are you two planning now?" Challenger eyed his companions warily. "Marguerite should still be resting- her memory hasn't fully recovered yet. And I have some serious reservations about how you could possibly time-travel with such accuracy as this man claims to do. The laws of physics clearly state that."

"George, if I have to listen to one of your scientific lectures before I have my morning coffee, I will add you to the list of invalids in this treehouse," Marguerite interrupted curtly.

"Not to mention that not even the laws of physics could explain all that happens on this plateau," Roxton added with a grin.

"You underestimate the scope of scientific principles," Challenger said archly, gathering up ends of bloodied gauze and standing up. "I'll be in the lab- let me know before you do anything rash."

"You have accepted the situation, I see," Bochra said to Marguerite as soon as Challenger left the room.

"I don't see that I had any choice, it being my destiny," Marguerite commented blithely.

"You still question your faith. We both know that it is folly to do so; it wastes precious time."

"Speaking of which, how long do we have before Marguerite's destiny catches up with her?" Roxton asked testily. He was determined to remain wary of the injured man and grew annoyed that Marguerite (of all people!) seemed readily inclined to believe him.

"Can you not see it already has?"

A pregnant silence fell over the three. Finally, Marguerite burst out huffily, "Fine! Fine. So my destiny is now. Lovely. What do we do about it?"

Bochra produced a raspy discordant sound indicative of soft laughter. "You must go to my time and do what I could not."

"That old story about the temple trespassers again. How about this time you tell me who–and how!"

"I don't know how they managed it–there is dark magic that even I cannot comprehend."

"And you bloody expect her to?" Roxton exclaimed angrily. "You're crazy!"

"She is the Chosen One, the priestess of her people," Bochra replied, annoyed with Roxton's disbelief and interference. "She will know."

"Yes, well, she will know much easier if you would condescend to explain who the hell is not allowed in the bloody temple!" Marguerite shouted. Between the one speaking in riddles and the other acting like an overprotective, jealous fool, she had just about had it with the both of them. If it was her destiny, then let her have it and be done with it, instead of prolonging the inevitable with irritating arguments barely passing for civilized conversation.

"I do not know his name. He leads the Shadow Men and he brings a storm of darkness to the pyramid of light."

Marguerite did not meet Roxton's concerned look. Coincidences happen- the storms couldn't possibly be the same. And yet her gut told her otherwise.

"You must travel two days to the west until you reach that place where I visited you last, near the quarry. The altar remains standing there. My staff will unlock the door to the other realm." He motioned for them to come closer and fixed an imploring gaze on the couple.

"You must leave immediately. There is not much time left before the portal closes forever and nothing can reverse it. I cannot travel the distance required, I know that now," he said pitifully, and took Marguerite's hand. "I entrust you to Lord John Roxton's care. He must accompany you since I have failed." He placed her hand into Roxton's, enclosing the couple's hands with his own. "He will protect you."

"I know," Marguerite replied softly, entranced by the warmth of the fingers clasping hers. Clearing her throat self-consciously, she changed the subject abruptly. "What about Veronica? Didn't you say it was her destiny too?"

"She must stay here. Her path lies on a different road and her time has not yet come," Bochra replied tiredly, withdrawing his hands.

"Well, unless there are any more cryptic tidbits you'd like to impress me with," Roxton said, slowly releasing Marguerite's hand, "then I'd better tell everyone else what's going on. We'll want to head out soon to make the most of the daylight."

Marguerite nodded to Roxton's retreating form but did not move from Bochra's side.

"You are troubled, my dear?"

"I had this dream," she began hesitantly.

"You are frightened by what you have seen."

"Is it the future? If these men do what you fear, will there be rioting and fighting and a storm?"

"Marguerite, listen to me and listen well: you have been privileged to see that which most cannot. This gift is not given to many and like all power, is dangerous if not respected and used responsibly."

"These things which I have seen- can they be prevented?"

"That is your choice and yours alone. I give you this warning: visions of the future are not always fulfilled; destiny can only do so much and only for those willing to accept it. Human choices shape and change the future all the time."

"Thank you," Marguerite said, kissing his temple lightly.

She hoped he was right and the horrible denouement of the dream replayed in her mind, causing her queasy feeling to return. No! She would not let that happen! As she began to pack for her journey, she decided that she would do anything in her power to stop the outcome of her terrible vision, the last and most terrifying scene that belonged in her worst nightmares the death of Lord John Roxton.

TBC