Guardians of Cahokia: An Alexandra Markum Equestrian Supernatural Thriller

An Alexandra Markum Equestrian Supernatural

Thriller

Rebecca E. Kohles

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

Guardians of Cahokia

An Alexandra Markum Equestrian Supernatural Thriller

Copyright © 2007 by Rebecca E. Kohles

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-0-595-44174-7 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-88506-0 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

AUTHOR’S DEDICATION

AUTHOR’S NOTES

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3

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5

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9

10

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AUTHOR’S DEDICATION

A special thank you for all the people that bought and read The Ghosts of Grand Detour and have returned to read Guardians of Cahokia. You are all helping make my dream come true. I am thankful that you all have come to enjoy the adventures of: Alexandra Markum, Ian Valin, and Peverell as much as I do.

A big thanks for my friends and pre-readers, who have given me some great feedback on springboarding my storyline and for my husband, Michael and my good friend Craig Heinze for performing the arduous task of being my comma policemen (which, I so sorely need). I thank you all!

Thanks for my family, friends, and wonderful pets. I don’t know how I’d make it through life without you.

Lastly, for all those little girls who are in love with horses and dream of one day having their very own, never, never give up your dream!

AUTHOR’S NOTES

As an Illinois horse owner, I would encourage all of you to continue to badger our political leaders that represent our state and country and let them know how wrong it is to support horse slaughter for consumption. It isn’t right and it isn’t humane no matter what fairytales they choose to tell us. Our horses deserve to pass away surrounded by a family that loves them.

To have a horse in your life is a gift. A horse teaches you courage and responsibility. Learning to care for a horse is both an art and a science. If you weren’t raised with horses, you can’t know that they each have very unique personalities. If you’ve never ridden a horse, you probably assume it’s a simple thing you can learn in a weekend. You can learn the basics quickly, but to truly ride well takes a lifetime. If it is in your blood to love horses, you share your life with them. Our horses know our innermost secrets and share in our tears as well as our joys. For those who struggle to understand people in love with horses, remember that it is not just a horse any more than it is just a rainbow, just a sunset or just love. Horses are a passion and can hold a human heart.

If we choose not to care for our equine companions in their twilight years, then we didn’t deserve them in the first place. Slaughter should not be an option for creatures with so much love to give us.

I believe in no-kill shelters and dream of a day when we’ll have no more homeless pets. Please do not support puppy mills! Many of my happiest moments in life have come from pets that no one wanted—open your heart, you’ll be surprised what you find there.

Those of you that read this book and find the mound area of interest, I would encourage you, if you can, to visit the Collinsville area and see Monk’s Mound and the surrounding area that encompasses Cahokia Mounds for yourself. It is truly a mystical place filled with massive energy and it is a place for reflection. I knew when I first saw the decorative bronze doors at the visitors’ center that I had to finish the story I had begun. There are so many wonders that await us and often they are in our own backyard.

An early Mississippian culture rose into great power during the period of approximately 1200 to 1450 A.D. These beings inhabited a mighty city, the location of which encompasses Collinsville, East St. Louis, and parts of St. Louis, among other modern towns found in Southern Illinois. This city was comprised of earthen mounds that rose into the sky, enabling the citizens to become closer to their gods. Many mysteries and legends surround the abrupt disappearance of this once powerful race. To this day, we know very little about their customs, cultures, and ultimate demise. They constructed a city that seems incomprehensible by today’s standards when you realize that they had no beasts of burden or the invention of the wheel. Today, we refer to these early Mississippians as Cahokians. Some scholars say that deforestation or repeated crop failures caused them to move on to other locations, but what if there was another explanation?

1

(1400 A.D.)

"Sulenaef waherim tarig."

But, Temil Nadu, Marrukah responded solemnly to the darkly cloaked figure obscured by the shadows. You know that they will kill me for this.

"Swalik karibi nian Andrasani," he commanded while pointing his narrow fingers at her and stepping from the darkness toward the waiting priestess.

Yes, Lord, she replied. You know that I have totally devoted myself to your people. I have always served the Andrasani and their cause faithfully.

Marrukah studied his heavily wrinkled face. When no further instructions passed from his enfolded lips, she turned away from the tall humanoid head priest of the Andrasani and disappeared into the darkened woods. Marrukah’s heart grew heavy, knowing what must now follow. Her mind raced to formulate a believable plan. What her lord and masters had asked of her was difficult. She would have to act carefully in order to fulfill their demand.

There was no doubt that the Andrasani’s request would most certainly condemn her to a very unpleasant death at the hands of her own tribe. Marrukah found herself trapped in a situation that lent her no escape. The pain she imagined she would suffer would be inconsequential. The most important thing was supporting the bridge of relations between her people and that of the Andrasani. Over the years, they had brought Marrukah’s people to prosperity and guaranteed them an important position throughout the lands. In the past, other tribes journeyed many miles to partake of the renowned festivals and celebrations. The Cahokians, for as long as Marrukah could remember, enjoyed the riches brought to them by being the hub of trading and commerce for their time. Remembering how far the Andrasani technology had brought them rallied Marrukah to continue.

Carefully hiding in the shadows, she could feel the nervous sweat that had built up upon her upper lip had rapidly spread all over her body like a swift disease. She shivered with the anxiety it delivered and it fed her nervousness. Stealing the chief’s daughter and using her as a sacrifice to the Andrasani’s gods was no easy feat and she had to be very careful in order to complete her task and please her lord, Temil Nadu.

Silently, she entered through the back entrance of the chief’s dwelling, which was situated high on the predominant plateau mound near the northern woodhenge. Quickly and quietly, she made her way to the girl’s sleeping chamber. Kyanite, the chief’s ten-year-old daughter, was slumbering heavily and made no stir of movement when Marrukah approached her bed.

Kyanite’s startling blue eyes flew open in surprise when from out of nowhere a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, waking her from a deep and pleasant sleep. Her small, tanned hands sought to struggle with her attacker. Burying themselves deeply in Marrukah’s robes, Kyanite’s tiny hands struggled to free her, but within seconds they dropped away, completely useless. The cloth, hidden inside the palm of Marrukah’s hand, which completely covered Kyanite’s nose and mouth, was heavily saturated with the juices of the tansy and bittersweet plants. These plants, when used in conjunction with her other special ingredients, created a powerful narcotic, one that induces the exposed body into an immediate coma. Kyanite fell unconscious as the toxins invaded her body. Her respiration and pulse slowed and her body became limp.

Bundling the girl up in the hides used for bedding, Marrukah threw Kyanite’s wilted form over her shoulder and retraced her steps to the back entrance and out into the cover of the still night. The orange harvest moon of the fall solstice burned brightly above Marrukah and she felt conspicuous as she hurried with her burden toward her intended destination. Her pounding heart thudded in her ears so loudly that she felt everyone could hear her escalating panic created by her dilemma. This caused Marrukah to check and double check carefully along the familiar path fearing that she was being followed.

Marrukah raced across the grassy courtyard containing the wheel of stones. Her long, dark, unkempt hair billowed out behind her flowing sapphire robes. These robes were made from a strange material given to her from the Andrasani to designate her important position within the tribe. Her headband contained a large, intricately carved, remarkable stone; also a gift from her lords. This stone, which the Andrasani had called spectrolite and had repeatedly referred to as a translating device, had enabled her to understand their language and communicate seamlessly with them when worn. With these astounding gifts, Marrukah served as the high priestess or shaman to the Andrasani and the main translator of the will of her lords to her people.

Steadily climbing the sacrificial mound, Marrukah hesitated at the top, straining to listen for any indication that she was being followed. Moving silently, Marrukah entered the prayer chamber. Glancing above, she noticed the darkening sky and the bright, burning stars that were now perfectly centered in the ancient planetarium window. Slowly, she turned toward the back of the chamber and realized with much disappointment that she had no such time for the niceties of celestial contemplation, and any message contained within the stars brilliant beauty would have to wait for another night. That is, if she managed to live long enough to see another night. Her breaths now came in jagged bursts because of the struggle to cover the required distance while carrying the extra burden of the chief’s daughter.

Following the intensity and nervousness she had endured abducting Kyanite, fatigue was quickly catching up to Marrukah. Each breath burned like a hot poker in her chest while her lithe body struggled, crying for more oxygen. A slight kicking movement with her right foot triggered the lodestone and a huge oval boulder in the back of the chamber moved aside to reveal a hidden circular staircase carved entirely of stone.

Descending quickly despite the extra weight, Marrukah felt her bundle begin to stir in accordance with the tansy plant elixir effects and she could hear the girl mumbling incoherently while the convulsions caused by the poisons began to overtake the youngster. When the last stair had been cleared, Marrukah struggled to retain her balance. She found herself unexpectedly thrown left and then right with the bodily jerking of the chief’s daughter who was experiencing a strange reaction to the drugs she’d been exposed to.

Marrukah attempted to race down the underground Avenue of the Dead. Tonight, although they fascinated her, there was no time to take in all the elaborate carvings that the shamans preceding her and other elite elders from the Andrasani race had produced here for all future records. She gathered her courage so that she might pass by the large underground sarcophagi that contained some of the greatest leaders of the Andrasani. Here their stone guardians protected the dead and frightened away all intruders who dared to trespass. These frightening figures all depicted decidedly non-human faces that drew upon the supernatural powers of the guardian spirits to oversee this sacred place. Her heart thudded in her ears with deafening clarity while she continued to make her way to the altar of the ancient ones.

Overseeing the altar stood the most recent gift from the Andrasani, a horrifying statue that they had referred to as Meshalapiasa eisa dossang,or the birdman as Marrukah’s people had called it. Loyal priests had moved it below ground at the request of the Andrasani. The creature was a hideous hybrid monster with a human head and torso, beaklike nose, and wings that were formed of falcon feathers and writhing serpents. The face bore a frightful expression, which had made Marrukah shudder on more than one occasion.

She recalled the legends passed down from generation to generation, back before the arrival of the Andrasani, about another stranger that had once visited her people. His name was Quetzcoatl and he had preached against the need of human sacrifice. Though some followers in worship of this man still used sacrifice, it was said to be done sparingly. He had tried to inspire the mound builders to love one another and live in harmony with their land. Through this, Quetzcoatl promised that great works would be accomplished. But then later after he had left, the Andrasani had come and like most North American sun kingdoms, they had degenerated back to their human sacrificial practices and brutal ceremonial warfare. Their art and statues again began to depict beheadings and other such sacrificial rites.

Saddened by what her people had once again become, but having no other recourse, she placed the young girl upon the altar. Marrukah withdrew a stone mace from within her robes. The large, flat, carved weapon had wicked knife-like edges and with it, she began to slice into the drugged girl with a precision that a modern day surgeon would envy. Kyanite’s blood flowed out of her body and flooded the channels carved into the altar top.

A carefully concealed door carved from the smooth stone interior walls opened and Temil Nadu entered the room from a secret side chamber. His seven-foot frame gracefully approached a strange textured portion in a wall of stone that appeared to be swirling in slow motion. This was the hidden threshold between their two worlds. The shimmering area began to gain more intensity in its revolutions and grew into the portal from which all previous Andrasani had arrived into this world. Temil Nadu moved aside to welcome the newly arriving ancient ones; their journey now made possible from the new sacrificial blood which had forced open the link, dropping the veil between worlds.

Marrukah, you have served us well, said the first ancient one in his sacred tongue. Shortly, we will return for a time to our home amongst the stars and you can rest assured that your dedication will not be forgotten. We shall bestow upon you the gift of multiple lives in our service. You shall be reborn throughout eternity, fully possessing memories and details of each previous life. When that future day arrives and your people are ready for the awakening, we will return to this place to enlighten the chosen gathered here. They in turn will be our ambassadors to the rest of the world. Our teachers of the life that all will have long forgotten. You, Marrukah. You will join us and again serve in the capacity of mediator between our races.

He reached out his hand of long, thin fingers. The bulbous joints closed directly on her head like a clamp, and the ancient one transmitted power to the waiting priestess. In addition, he rewarded to her the sacred seal, which was the key to opening the doorway to the Andrasani’s world.

Only a handful of the expected Andrasani priests had crossed over. They all wore their traditional ceremonial white robes that were made of a rather coarse fabric. Marrukah did not understand the full intent of what was to transpire. These were her gods and she a simple savage in their terminology. All she could gather was that this ceremony would enable them to monitor progress through time until they returned. She almost sighed aloud, knowing that no further sacrifices would be necessary.

Marrukah had never before seen the Andrasani’s eyes because of the great folds of skin, which always covered them. Now, she gasped when a golden light emanated from each of the priests’ faces.

Before more of the ancient ones could cross the threshold, Medeenah, the mother of Kyanite, burst into the room along with her husband Naseerah, the chief of Cahokia. They were closely followed by seven enraged council tribal elders. Finding her child lifeless on the altar the mother wailed, stricken with grief. Medeenah pulled her daughter’s limp body from the altar. Mother and child fell into a heap on the floor of the ceremonial room. Medeenah sobbed uncontrollably, watching the ebbing blood from Kyanite’s wounds stain her dress with sickly red flowers.

The elder Cahokians cried out with a new found sense of shock and anger. Always during their history with the Andrasani, the sacrifices had been those of a person of no importance in the tribe. Their ceremonies had always centered on those who had agreed to their fate instead of being forced into the sacrificial venue. They didn’t understand that suddenly one of the elite family members had been forced into the ultimate sacrifice. The original pact with the Andrasani was totally forgotten—though the elders had been warned of this long before the ancient ones had agreed to help them build their city. When the initial agreement had been made between races, the ceremony using the blood of a royal had seemed so far off that the elders had not grasped the circumstances that would follow. Now the devil had come for payment and all they knew now was rage. All of the teachings of the Andrasani were forgotten. The price that the Cahokians had agreed to had suddenly become too high. In the heat of the moment, they led with their emotions and started a violent attack upon the ancient ones. The Andrasani, who for years had been idolized and put on pedestals, were stabbed, beaten, and brutally pulled apart with a savage frenzy. Above ground, Cahokians surrounded the Andrasani’s ceremonial building with lit torches, and set the timbers on fire. The embers burned so hot that the surrounding soil was scorched. The priests trapped inside cried out in terror, as they were burned alive in the inferno.

Frightened and confused, Marrukah ran from the underground chamber, trying to escape the madness within. The priestess quickly made her way back down the Avenue of the Dead and climbed the stairs, exiting to the top of the mound. Behind her, she heard a sound that filled her heart with dread. Marrukah could hear the high-pitched call of the Andrasani. Their summons struck fear in her heart. Now they would come.

Temil Nadu and the few other remaining from the Andrasani race called for their peacekeepers. In the past, the peacekeepers had protected them from warring tribes and other threats both large and small, comprised from this world and others. Their presence was both comforting and imposing to the Cahokians. Marrukah feared that the retribution for going against the ancient ones would be one of Armageddon. The betrayal and attack caused the Andrasani to have no other choice in the matter. Marrukah’s people had struck a bargain with the ancient ones and now they felt they could rescind their promise. Now, they would all pay the price.

Across the massive diamond-shaped complex that encompassed both mounds and city dwellings alike, wicked, blood-red lightning struck the ground in destructive bolts, and the approaching dark, threatening clouds that drew near symbolized their imminent doom. The intensity of the lightning made Marrukah draw her shaking hands up over her eyes, her terror causing tears to flow down her dirt-streaked cheeks. The earth rumbled violently like the mighty tremors one might experience before an erupting volcano. Steam blasted through the newly formed fissures in the earth while the ground shook more violently, building to a climax that would release the evil. All of this caused Marrukah to remember the last time the guardians had been called. Their retribution had been quick and merciless, causing the utter annihilation of the attacking warring tribe. Could it be that she had been the only one fearful of the day when the peacekeepers might be turned against them? She gasped when she heard the earth from one of their furthest mounds explode in a powerful blast sending cascading showers of dirt all over the fenced, metropolitan city. The Cahokians let their fear overtake them and froze during the eruption, then scrambled, utterly panicked when the dirt began to rain down upon them. Everyone knew then that their fate was sealed.

The unearthly creatures, the peacekeepers of the Andrasani, emitted an earsplitting shriek that made the Cahokians grasp their ears, wincing in pain. Another shriek and the peacekeepers took to flight, soaring into the night sky. Through their blazing red eyes, it was easy to spot their intended prey in the dark and only another high-pitched whine produced by the Andrasani would pull them away from an intended victim. Marrukah knew that signal would never come, and found little comfort in the fact that the stone she wore would protect her from the peacekeepers as they carried out their vicious retribution. Their strong, leathery wings beat the air powerfully, emitting a sound like rolling thunder. While the peacekeepers flew over the enclosed city and those dwellings beyond the stockade, their bodies produced dark shadows on the ground that blotted out the existing stars and moonlight to those earthbound victims. With a wingspan of at least sixty feet, they swooped down upon all the panicking villagers who ran blindly through the maze of rising chaos.

A loud scream cut through Marrukah’s soul and turning toward the source, she watched a terrified tribe member trapped underneath a pair of sharp taloned feet. Marrukah remembered all too well the horrible screaming, the ensuing turmoil, the running, and the panic that had given signature to the last flight of the peacekeepers. The attacking tribe had been annihilated in exactly the same fashion. Her vivid memories replayed the sounds of battle and then came the unmistakable, wet sound of flesh being ripped from a body in large strips, even while the dying person desperately tried to draw their last breath. The razor-sharp beaks of the guardians showed no mercy. One after another, her people were killed in this fashion by the frightful creatures. While crouching over their prey, the creatures lashed out with their long, whip-like tails, catching other panicking villagers in their strong grasp and drawing them to their deaths. Panic and fear quickly filled the air, and in a short matter of time, most of the tribe numbering approximately thirty thousand had been utterly destroyed.

The few villagers that remained were dropped unceremoniously from the air into the little understood and recently built compound. It was only now that Marrukah comprehended that the Andrasani on some level had been expecting a revolt and had prepared for it by the construction of this area surrounded with huge tree trunks. There was no way in or out except from above.

Tamil Nadu emerged from the underground temple