ORDER OF SEVEN (8 page)

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Authors: Beth Teliho

Tags: #Fiction, #South Africa, #psychic, #Fantasy

BOOK: ORDER OF SEVEN
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“I know. I know,” I say. “But the most intriguing part is the language is in Incan, Nodin. Not African.”

He shakes his head. “No wonder we couldn’t figure it out.”

Baron taps a green notebook on the coffee table. “We need to catalogue each symbol. Watch for connections. But first, I need to tell you about a conversation I had with Hahn today.”

“You didn’t give him any details, did you?” Nodin asks.

“Of course not. I only said what was necessary.”

I notice the energy isn’t as distracting as when I first arrived. After the first few minutes, I’m able to zone out of it. It’s not pleasant, but it becomes background noise, only changing in intensity if our distance from one another alters.

Baron pulls a chair from the kitchen table and sits. “I told Hahn I’d been talking to your dad. He knows I have interest in the tribe because of the tattoo, so I said I asked your dad about them, which is believable since they know each other. I said your dad heard some stuff and I pretended to corroborate the facts with Hahn.”

“Perfect. So what did he tell you?” Nodin asks.

“He told me they were originally a large tribe from the mountains of Peru tens of thousands of years ago, but harsh weather conditions forced them north. Over another couple centuries, the tribe suffered and their population decreased. Around the sixteen hundreds, small groups managed to stay together and one in particular eventually migrated into Central America. They ended up in present day Honduras, where they still are today.

“Their name, which means White Spirit People, originated because they were known for a genetic hiccup in their tribe: each generation, an albino child was born and thought to have mystical powers. He was their shaman, their guide, their preacher, their...everything. The tribe would raise the child like a king, readying him to take the place of the one before him. When the child was fourteen years old, he would take the helm.”

“Wild,” Ben says.

“It gets wilder. Hahn said one of his archaeologist friends has been working with a team in the mountains of Peru for a few years, and they’ve uncovered new evidence. Because of the artifacts found, they’re pretty sure this is the original Tabari land, before they split and moved north.”

“So? What’s the big deal with that?” I ask.

“They discovered carvings of human figures on pottery, cave walls and tablets in the area. The figures have stars and moons over their heads and squiggly lines thought to be snakes—both symbols of mystics. Star maps and calendars were uncovered too. The maps point to astronomical locations, and when coordinated with certain dates also point to large formations.
Famous formations.
” He eyes Nodin. “Ones that take on recognizable shapes when seen from high above.”

Nodin’s eyes are huge. “Wait a minute, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Baron nods. “They think the Tabari were originally a clan of the Nazca and may be partly responsible for the Nazca lines.”

“That’s unreal,” Nodin says.

“Do they have any idea why they made them?” Ben asks.

“At this point, it’s believed the Nazca lines are maps.”

“Maps for what?” Nodin says.

Baron shrugs. “For water. The Nazca clans left because of severe drought.”

“Could someone refresh my memory as to what the Nazca lines are?” I say. I know the name. I’ve heard my dad use it a hundred times, but can’t remember what it is.

“Remember in Dad’s office, on the right wall by the light switch, the aerial photo of lines that look like a giant bird-like figure?” asks Nodin. “And next to it the one of the giant spiral?”

I nod. “Okay, yeah, I’ve seen those. That’s in Peru?”

“Yes, and hundreds are in the sand making animal figures and other shapes, all in this one location. It wasn’t discovered until planes flew over the area in the mid twentieth century. Scientists have figured out they were made around five hundred to eight hundred AD, and they never really knew how they were made with such accuracy. It’s one of those archaeological mysteries.”

“Why didn’t the lines get covered up over time? How deep are they?” I ask.

“Not deep at all, but you have to realize, it’s a dry desert with hardly any wind. They dug down past the red, iodine rich sand to the white sand, which is why the lines are so visible,” Nodin says. He turns to Baron. “You said some of the tribe still exists in Central America?”

“Here’s the deal. Tabari are still in Honduras. Not a lot, but they are there. Hahn’s colleague tracked them down several years ago, but was met with hostility. The Tabari are unwilling to speak to anyone. What’s known about them and their history was learned from other tribes.”

“Do they still have an albino leader?” I ask.

“That’s what I asked, too. Hahn said no one knows. If an albino is living among them, they are hiding him. However, they’ve been linked to another tribe called the Maz, an
entirely
albino people.”

“The whole tribe?” Ben says.

“Aside from a few exceptions, all of them. The Maz have a long Mayan history in Mexico and Guatemala. They go back as early as two thousand AD. Local Hondurans claim the Maz have been meeting with the Tabari for a couple hundred years. Speculation among the archeological community is they’re meeting in hopes of having albinos in the tribe again.”

“So they breed with the Maz, hoping for an albino?” Nodin muses.

“Exactly.”

“Did it work?”

“Another unknown. They’re reclusive and private. No one is let inside their community. Only a few venture out for food and goods.”

“Wait a minute... Wouldn’t this produce a new breed? A half-Maz, half-Tabari?” I say.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On if they were successful producing any children.”

“Let me guess, no one knows.”

“Correct,” Baron agrees.

“And they speak the language my name is in?”

“Hahn says Amair is their native tongue. It’s only spoken by a small sect now and the thousand or so Tabari left.”

“A thousand?” Nodin and I say in unison.

Baron nods.

The room is silent. A connection is glaring at me like a neon sign. I look at Nodin.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.

He shakes his head, but I think he has an idea what I’m about to say.

“Nodin, my name is in Amair. And you’re—”

“I’m
not
albino,” he says.

“You’re right. You’re not, technically, but hear me out,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “It doesn’t make any more sense for the brown-skinned woman from my dream to be with an indigenous African tribe than it does for us. She could be Peruvian. What if we’re the result of these tribes mixing? What if we’re both half-albino, but you inherited more of the albino gene than I did?”

He holds a hand up to quiet me and stands, pacing. “It makes sense on some level, I guess. But if we’re somehow originally from Central America, how did we end up in Africa?”

“That’s the million dollar qu—” I stop and turn to Baron. “Hey, maybe that word or name or whatever it is I say in my dream, Nami. Maybe it’s an Amair word. Do you think you could find out?”

“I could try, yeah.”

“Don’t do it if it means telling Hahn too much,” Nodin says.

“I won’t.”

“Anything else?” Nodin asks.

“That’s it about the Tabari.” Baron taps the notebook. “Let’s get back to the symbols and see if we can learn anything from them.”

My stomach growls loud enough for everyone to hear. “Sorry,” I say, a little embarrassed. “I haven’t had dinner.”

“Oh, I forgot. We had Chinese earlier. Leftovers are in the fridge. Help yourself if you want,” Nodin says.

“That’s perfect, thanks.” I go in the kitchen and begin rummaging through the fridge until I find chicken with broccoli. I scoop some out on a plate and have just put it in the microwave when I hear commotion from the family room.

Nodin has spilled his soda and somehow managed to get it all over Baron’s shirt. The guys are laughing and teasing Nodin about his lack of grace. Nodin tells them to fuck off, and comes in the kitchen for a paper towel.

I’m filling a glass with fridge water when I hear Ben asking about Baron’s new tattoo. I turn my head so I can see them. Baron has taken his wet shirt off. I’m so distracted, I overfill my glass and water goes all over the floor. I grab a dish towel and wipe it up.

“Holy shit, that’s a huge back tat, dude,” I hear Ben say.

“Yeah, I got the third part last week,” Baron says. “It took forever. There’s so much detail.”

I fold the dishtowel over the sink. Baron is facing me while Ben inspects his back.

“Turn around,” Nodin says as he returns to wipe up the soda. I lift the water glass to my lips as Baron turns.

Glass shatters around my feet. Shock’s Novocain runs through my veins. Nodin’s eyes are wide with surprise as he looks from the glass at my feet to Baron.

What I see on Baron’s back nearly brings me to my knees. I cannot speak. I cannot move. I cannot breathe.

•◊•◊•

Space and time suspend and a single fact is clear: Baron isn’t just a cute friend of my brother’s. He isn’t merely someone with whom I have a connection. Baron Latrosse, right now, in the past, and long after we’re gone, is part of me.

He spun around when I dropped the glass, but I need to see his back again. I have to know it’s real. I will my legs to walk over to him, take Baron by the shoulders, energy spiking and reverberating without regard, and turn him back around. I gasp and reach out to touch it so it doesn’t disappear.

Etched on the entirety of his back is an enormous tattoo of
my tree
. Each bend. Every branch. An exact replica.

Tears fill my eyes. I’m in a daze. I have that eerie feeling again, like I’m standing in a cave. My forehead tips against his back. I hear my name being called, again and again.

Someone grasps my shoulders and pulls me away.

Nodin turns my face to his. “Devi, are you okay?”

I stare past him, unable to focus.

He snaps his fingers next to my face. “Devi.”

I blink a few times. “It’s my tree,” I whisper.

“I know.” He’s looking at me like I might break. I hear scraping noises. My eyes focus behind Nodin where Ben is cleaning up the glass.

Baron pleads for someone to tell him what’s going on and Nodin explains his tattoo is
the tree
I source energy from. Baron runs his fingers through his hair.

I shrug off Nodin’s grip and turn to Baron. “How? When?”

“I started seeing the tree about seven or eight months ago. I waited longer than usual to make it permanent because of all the detail. I wanted to get it right.”

“Let me see it again.”

He turns his back to me. “It’s perfect,” I say.

He turns again, facing me. I lift my gaze to his beautiful green eyes. He gives me a little half-smile. It’s a smile I’ve known for a thousand years and for just a day. One that makes my heart pound and my body ache with desire. And I know that look in his eyes because I feel it in my own. The one you have when you care about something so much it hurts, and your soul is shattering into a million pieces because you’ve just been made so vulnerable you’re now
scared to death
.

Awkward shuffles sound behind me as Ben enters from the kitchen. Nodin takes the notebook and taps it with his pen. “This. This is why we need to stay in constant contact. This is why we need to pay attention to detail. We’re not in control here. Something else is orchestrating every move, every clue. We—”

“For what?” I ask. “What are we doing here?” My voice gets louder as the enormity sinks in. “Why are we being spoon-fed information? Who are we being protected from?” I look around at their faces. “Don’t you all want to know what the hell’s happening?”

I turn to Nodin and glare. “What do Train and Emilet have to say?”

He stares at me long and hard but doesn’t answer.

“What? They have so much to say yesterday, but nothing today?”

Ben walks in from the kitchen. “Devi, lay off him.”

I whip my head around. “He’s my brother. I can say whatever the fuck I please.”

“Jesus, you can be such a bitch sometimes,” Ben says, glaring at me.

“What did you say to me?”
Bring it,
I think. I’m a mass of riled energy, anxiety and fear. A good argument would feel fantastic right now.

“Apologize, Ben,” Nodin says.

Ben’s eyes widen. “Why should I apologize to her? I was sticking up for you, dude.”

“She’s just scared. We all are.” He plops on the couch. “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Ben stands still as a statue. “Sorry,” he says at last.

“I’m sorry, too,” I say, sitting before my legs give way. “I feel like I’m outta my mind.”

I’m not mad at Ben, or any of them for that matter. In my peripheral vision, I see Baron leave and come back wearing a dry shirt. He and Ben sit on the couch.

Nodin holds up the notebook. “I think we should all have copies of this. We need to make notes of any connections we notice, no matter how small they seem. We have to stay in communication about any new information, visions. Even the tiniest thought should be shared with the whole team either by group email or a phone call, text, whatever.”

We nod in agreement.

“Ready?” Nodin asks. “Let’s start with the obvious.” He lays the notebook on the table and flips to a blank page.

Baron tells us about the entire tree vision as Nodin writes. He’s standing in tall grass near the tree. Nothing else is around and it’s eerily still. Rushing water roars loudly, so close it trembles the ground beneath him, yet he can’t see the source. He stares at the tree as if it has something he needs. He feels a sense of urgency. He’s waiting for something. The vision abruptly ends here.

We continue this for the rest of Baron’s tattoos. He removes his shirt so Nodin can draw them. I stare at his shoulders and mentally ingest each shredded muscle down to his waist. I swallow hard and decide it might be better for me to look elsewhere.

I glance at Ben and catch him looking right at me, disgusted.

I try to appear captivated by Nodin’s drawing of the seven symbols down the side of Baron’s torso. Top to bottom, they represent Earth, air, wood, unite, water, metal and fire. We note the word “unite” is the only one not an object of nature and it’s in the middle of the other six earth symbols.

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