Freaky Pearl

By May Koliander

As the dragon-child, Athalinda will need to draw heavily on her innermost resources to take on the powerful enemies coveting the dragon’s Pearl and the powers it confers.
The question is – how to distinguish friend from foe ?

Perils are rife for those who toil up the wild slopes of the Tien Shan mountain range on the quest for the dragon’s Pearl. When the little party finally reach their destination, there is little cause for hubris as their expedition raises more questions than it answers.
Doubts about Ivan keep torturing Athalinda on the journey home. When she meets the enigmatic Evgueni, a smooth operator materializing out of Ivan’s long-lost past, her hard-earned certainties begin to crumble before the rug is pulled right from under her feet. She needs to recoup and fast - Now, more than ever before, she must trust her judgment and make the right decisions. Fortunately, she is not alone; Anghel, Evgueni’s saturnine dogsbody, has taken a liking to her and makes no bones about it...

• Language: English
• Publisher: May Koliander
• Release date: Sep 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9782970088233

May Koliander

I was born in the States, the outcome of an Oklahoma - Pennsylvania love story, but bred in Europe. My taste for stories started a long time ago with Mom reading to us every evening for hours and giving us free access to the stash of Classics Illustrated a mile high she had thrown into the great ocean liner trunks along with other artefacts, such as vegetable peelers and pie tins, when she decided to cross the seas with her brood. As we grew in years, we graduated from Uncle Wiggly, Uncle Remus and Pogo to the great epics and then on to the world's classics. I still remember my brother's laughter when we got to The Pickwick Papers and must confess I fell asleep during most of The Brothers Karamazov, but was totally enthralled by War and Peace. I sometimes try to draw up a list of my most loved books, something like a top ten. It would read - today - like this : Lolita by V. Nabokov War With The Newts by K. Capek God's Grace by B. Malamud Anna Karenin by L. Tolstoy La Soif et Autres Nouvelles by Ivo Andritch Ferdydurke by W. Gombrowicz The Barsoom Novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs The Things They Carried by T. O'Brien Le Testament Français by Andreï Makine A Good Man is Hard to find and Other Stories by F. O'Connor Us by E. Zamiatine Frankenstein by Mary Shelley Of course, it's easy to remember the works that have marked generations. However, we don't only feed on 'literature' - there are myriads of other books out there of a less lofty nature that we have read and thoroughly enjoyed, but whose titles or authors have faded from our memory. So, the big blank space in the middle of the list is for all those writers whose work has given me countless hours of excitement and pleasure - writers of genre fiction. One day, however, the unthinkable happens - you reach for a book and after a few pages, you let if fall back down. It's not what you wanted - the shoe doesn't fit - so you pick up another and it happens again... Then there's only one thing left to do - sit down at your computer and start writing...

Book preview

1  Almaty

Athalinda stepped off the plane in Almaty and took a deep breath as she scanned her surroundings, relieved beyond words to have finally reached the former capital of Kazakhstan, but also totally at a loss. Home – her native Pennsylvania – was over 6000 miles away and the heat was fierce, far worse than the Arizona desert furnace she had ventured into on her Buell, some years earlier. The plane's air conditioning had been a little too cool and the contrast, once the door opened and she followed the other passengers down the ramp, was staggering. She looked up hopefully at the towering mountains surrounding the city with their radiant, snow-capped peaks. She couldn't wait to start climbing their slopes and leave the stifling heat far behind.

She had spent the last hours of the flight musing about her mother, Belinda Ward, and the magic orchard to which she had traveled with her husband more than twenty-four years ago. To be perfectly candid, Athalinda had also been trying to sort out her feelings for Ivan, the handsome, fair-haired Semey she would see again within minutes, after collecting her luggage. At times she wondered if she had been wise to accept his offer to accompany her up into the high mountain range she now contemplated in the distance. Did she really know who he was ? She had gone with her gut feeling when she'd agreed to their traveling together, and as he was familiar with the region, it did make sense, but that didn't mean she was perfectly serene – far from it.

She didn't have much time to look around when she entered the low sinusoid airport building to retrieve her luggage, as a shabbily dressed man immediately came up to her, holding out an envelope. She stopped, frowning. She had shamelessly fantasized about the instant she would set eyes on Ivan again and didn't want it to be spoilt by someone asking for a hand out or requesting her to sign a plea she wouldn't even be able to decipher. However, as she glanced around the sparsely populated hall Ivan was nowhere to be seen and she felt let down. Meanwhile, the man had stepped closer and was now pushing the envelope into her hand. She studied him. He was rather short, but stocky and wore a woolen bonnet low down over his slanting eyes. He didn't look Russian to her ; he probably belonged to one of the nomadic tribes she had read about in her guide to Almaty, the 'City of Apples', on and between planes. Sighing, she took the envelope and tore open the flap. Inside there was a scrawled note : Follow Balta – will come. Alexander. She looked up from the scrap of paper. Could this man be Ivan's scout, one of the Semeys ? Ivan had told her that Balta knew the region, so perhaps he was indeed a tribesman. She searched the airport hall again. Still no Ivan. The man stood there, unmoved, like he had all the time in the world. She suddenly decided to comply with the request as the note was signed 'Alexander'. Indeed, no one apart from her knew Ivan's secret name except, of course, for his sister but Athalinda didn't dwell on that thought. Ivan was probably caught up in some negotiation for the equipment they required, and had sent his scout to fetch her. She pointed to the luggage hall, but the man tapped on his watch and made gestures with his hand, impressing on her the need to follow him without any more delay.

They crossed the shiny marble floor of the arrival hall, Athalinda noticing quite a few glances in her direction. She was wearing a Hydraskin pant suit – short jacket with over-sized buttons over capri pants in a dark green on charcoal snake-skin pattern straight out of the autumn collection she and her friend Cooper were putting on the market and their designs obviously hadn't reached Kazakhstan yet… She peeled off the jacket as they left the air-conditioned building through a side door, and caught another glimpse of the mountains towards which they would soon be headed. Something in the very center of her being seemed to expand. The real adventure was about to begin and within minutes she would see Ivan.

Her guide drove an old broken-down car along the nearly empty roads for a few minutes, then to her surprise, swerved into a junk yard. What could Ivan be putting together in such a place ? Without waiting for her, the man walked over to a door painted a deep peacock blue badly dented and scarred, opened it and stepped aside. The moment Athalinda set foot in the room a tall shape swam up to her out of the shadows and she ducked just in time to avoid a man's heavy fist aimed at her head. If she hadn't possessed night sight the blow would have bashed her face in and knocked her unconscious. As it was, it landed on her shoulder and threw her violently back against the door frame. Pain irradiated through her flesh down to the bone. Her guide and her assailant didn't waste any time. They caught her by her hands and feet and carried her like a sack of flour deeper into the gloomy room. Rage flamed through her. Had she crossed half the world to be beaten up by two thugs in a crappy junk yard ? How can I let them do this to me ? she thought and, staring hard at the man who was holding her legs and bracing himself to throw her into a rusty bathtub half full of something that looked disturbingly like wet cement, she felt her features melt and change and the thug suddenly started screaming madly, letting go of her in a panic, as if she were made of burning coals. The commotion didn't last, however, for there was a loud swooshing noise and her arms were abruptly released as well. She landed on the floor only to be half knocked out by a man's headless body toppling over her, his blood gushing out in spurts… She peered up as best she could through the gore, blinking and spitting. Ivan was towering above her like a radiant knight, sabre raised high. First there was a puzzled look in his eyes, and then his face cleared and he smiled broadly.

For a moment I thought I had made a mistake and that you were someone else, he remarked, as cool and composed as a cowboy blowing on the smoking barrel of his gun, but then, of course, I recognized the suit.

Athalinda looked around wildly for the man who had been holding her ankles, but Balta, the real one, had seen to him. The sickening sweetish smell of blood was overpowering in the dark hot room, making her gag.

Ivan seized her by the arm and pulled her up. She winced. Her shoulder was sore and she was quivering. They stood speechless, face to face, her heart banging madly against her rib cage, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Trust fate to thwart her rosy dreams of reunion ! She probably looked like something that had crawled out of the gutter ; could feel the gooey stuff drying on her, caking her skin. Ivan gave an order to Balta in Russian and the scout left. He then picked up a bucket of water that was there to mix cement and poured it over her, briskly wiping her down, brushing the blood off her face and clothes.

My turn to cleanse you, he said softly as he began pouring a second bucket over her. The image of Ivan standing naked under the shower in his Pocono resort, rinsing off the blood of Dniepr, his favorite steed, flashed through her mind, making her cheeks redden. She raised her arms as the water flowed over her and to her utter surprise, felt wonderful ; she was miraculously being brought back to life, made new. As she slowly peeled off her soaking clothes, holding Ivan's stare, she whispered, Alas, I have no bathrobe, and walked straight into his arms. Nothing mattered at that moment but him, being close to him, feeling his arms around her.

Ivan lifted her up and kissed her hard. Her hands made their way under his shirt. When they reached his skin she heard him gasp. He released her gently and was out of his clothes in a flash. She was then whisked off to a pile of burlap sacking in the corner of the dim room, naked flesh burning her as she feverishly waited for him to enter her. As he relentlessly moved within her, watching pain and then pleasure play over her features, she felt she was being absorbed into the bondless blue of his eyes. When she came, she clung to him, moaning, and felt him shudder violently. Her whole body tingled, she felt blessed and was hungry for him again, immediately, in spite of the burn of the rough material against her back and thighs and hot fetid air. She licked his chest and toyed with his nipples and when she looked up at him again, there was a wild, wolfish glint in his eyes and she felt him surge against her belly. She breathed in deeply and gave herself up to his thrust.

Once sated, they remained motionless, clasped together, and she had to smile to herself. She had got what she had been longing for, albeit in a rather unorthodox setting.

We have stayed here long enough, Ivan finally said. Balta will be waiting with your luggage, I sent him to fetch it.

But what happened ? she inquired, gingerly getting back into her damp clothes. It was a good thing Hydraskin dried fast. She knew she had fallen into a trap, but what about Ivan, what could be going on ?

We have enemies who want to prevent us from going up into the mountains. He was already fully dressed, looking upright and elegant as usual, not a hair out of place. You know we Semeys cannot be easily killed, so they ambushed us and drove us far from town to have time to get rid of you. With you dead, I would be powerless against Ivana, and disconsolate, of course, he added, lifting up her chin with a finger and kissing her lips gently.

Balta was waiting for them in a dusty car that had seen better days. As they both got in the back, she asked, Does Balta speak English ?

Not really. He picked up some words while in Moscow, but is far from fluent.

Well, thank you for helping rescue me, she nevertheless said, as she leaned forward. The man apparently understood for he lifted his right hand and gave her a military salute. He did look like a Mongol and quite a bit older than Ivan ; in fact, he reminded her of Argan, the Semey she had met at Marlène's.

You guys certainly are handy with swords, she remarked to Ivan, but how did you find me ?

Balta knows this region and it didn't take him long to find horses after we were dumped at the side of the road. We rode back to Almaty as fast as we could to meet your plane, but arrived just after you had been led away. By the way, how come you trusted that man ?

The note he gave me was signed 'Alexander', she said slowly. That does seem to point in a certain direction, doesn't it ?

Ivan looked troubled. She did react fast, he said, speaking of his twin, Ivana. I wasn't expecting her to be quite so efficient, but it doesn't matter ; once we are on our way, no one will be able to stop us. Just wait and see what those mountains are like ! He seemed carefree and relief flowed through her. Of late, the thought of Ivana's mischief and her own responsibility in having set lose on the world such a creature had been tormenting her.

I still don't know how you found me…

It was lucky you were wearing one of your amazing creations, he said, a little facetiously, I believe everyone in that airport hall saw you leave and noticed the car you climbed into. We jumped into this one which was in the parking lot and drove around until we spotted it.

I never expected that being a fashion plate would save my life.

Be assured that it was your beauty that struck them, Ivan remarked gallantly.

Then there definitely are perks to being hot, she laughed, thinking that right then she probably still had streaks of blood on her face, her clothes were damp and her hair hung limply around her face. She must be as sexy as a drowned rat.

Now tell me what you did to make the guy holding your legs let go. You terrified him – I saw it, Ivan said.

I wasn't going to let those thugs drown me and cast me in cement ! I concentrated hard and shifted into someone he knew and loved – I believe it was his mother…

No wonder he let go of you as if he had seen the devil ; that was very clever, I must say.

I didn't have time to think it out – I just projected back to him whoever it was he loved most.

Ivan was silently gazing out of the car window. She could feel something was troubling him. When he turned to look at her, he said, Let us be truthful to each other and not play games. Promise not to shift when we are together.

As they were talking, Balta had driven into the city proper. Almaty really deserved to be called a garden city. Never had she seen so many fruit trees in a town, nor such an abundance of poplars and lindens. It was totally different from Destiny, her small town in the Poconos. She suddenly let out a cry and grasped Balta's shoulder, asking him to stop the car. She had spotted an incredible wooden building painted bright yellow and crowned with a host of bright cupolas – she thought it must be a palace before noticing the cross over the entrance. It was an Orthodox cathedral. While the men waited, she took pictures of its numerous dome-like roofs. They were decorated in a harlequin motif in red, gold and turquoise and stood out like jewels against the tall dark pines circling the edifice. There was no way she could pass up such an opportunity to reap new patterns and color schemes for future Hydraskin collections !

A few minutes later, Balta parked next to a Landrover in front of a low cheap-looking modern hotel building.

I booked rooms, Ivan told her but we won't stay. The faster we leave, the better. We will set out as soon as you have had a shower and we have transferred all your possessions into bags that can be attached to horses. We will use the Landrover only till we reach the mountains.

Did you remember about the saddle ? Athalinda asked. She could not bear to come into contact with leather.

Yes, don't worry, there will be no leather, only thick nylon ; your saddle is already in the car.

After her shower, she took off her crystal necklace, warmed the stones in her hands and applied them to her sore shoulder. The pain ebbed away slowly. Then she dressed, pulling on cotton kaki capris and a pink t-shirt. She was fighting fit and raring to go !

2  The Cossack

Once everything they required had been safely packed, they hit the road, traveling east towards the foot hills of the Tien Shan Mountains, and China. The Landrover had no air-conditioning, not that she had expected any, but as it was getting late in the afternoon and she had wound the windows half-way down, the heat was bearable. Ivan and Balta had mapped out their route ; their first stop would be near the foot of the mountains.

She kept checking the soaring heights of the mountain range. Something was reflecting the sun and sparkling near one of the summits and it bothered her that she couldn't make out what it was. Perhaps it was nothing more than a lingering patch of snow. Ivan was sitting up front with Balta. Seeing him being driven around reminded her of the women who surrounded the Semeys and chauffeured them, back home in Destiny. Her eyes lingered for a while on Ivan's handsome profile and the silvery blond hair softly curling on his strong neck. This was as good a time as any to get some answers. Today, he couldn't just walk away.

What about the women who always swarm around you, Ivan, your 'handmaidens,' as you call them ?

Ivan turned around, taking her in with his light eyes and then gave her a boyish smile.

Feeling proprietorial already, sweetheart ?

Perhaps a little, she answered coyly. Where are they now, how are they faring without you ?

Oh, they have many tasks and responsibilities in the resorts. Don't worry about them, we keep them busy.

But what do they do ? Can't you be a little more specific ?

They do whatever I tell them to do, and nothing else, he answered, a little too smugly to her taste.

You sound like a die-hard macho ! But then, I guess men were supposed to be the lord and master back in the eighteen hundreds. Let him try the despotic act with her and see what happened !

They are perfectly happy and contented. Just as I am right now, Ivan stated.

But don't you have to have them around ? I thought you needed to feed on alpha waves.

Do I look as if I need anybody ? Ivan asked coldly and then his voice became gentle, almost a whisper, Apart from you, of course, Alinda.

She was fascinated by the swiftness with which his tone could change ; it was unsettling. But she wasn't going to let herself be sidestepped by his gallantry.

I wasn't referring to a need for company, but to your need for energy, don't you have to feed ?

As I have already told you, I have learnt to control my energy expenditure. I feed on anyone I come close to and when there is no one, I can draw energy from telluric currents.

What's that ? She hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about.

They are electric currents moving through the sea or under the earth – We Semeys can locate them and soak up that energy.

That's what you'll do in the mountains ? She had indeed been wondering how he would cope with being away from ordinary people.

Exactly that, my little inquisitor. He was making fun of her.

Well, that was settled. But she still felt she hadn't been getting all the answers she wanted.

And what about Balta, does he have these handmaidens too ?

Ivan sighed and smiled, You'll have to ask him yourself ; I haven't had time to discuss his private affairs with him. And he turned back to look at the road.

She glanced outside ; it was getting darker and the further they got from the hills around Almaty, the drier the countryside became. She couldn't wait to get to the mountains to escape from the endless sandy stretches that spread out around them like a tawny sea.

When they stopped it was dark already but they had entered the Charyn canyon, the 'Valley of Castles,' as her guidebook dubbed it. Athalinda had toured the Grand Canyon on her Buell and now had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. The rock pillars around her reminded her so much of Arizona that she suddenly saw Frank, big brawny Frank, her Nufreak friend and ex-lover as they had stood side by side overlooking the canyon, debating whether they would risk going down on foot by a hundred and ten degrees or jump back on their bikes and hit the slab. A wave of nostalgia swept over her. This place looked so much like her homeland, it was spooky, but it was also all wrong. She glanced at her companions. Ivan was walking around, stretching his long legs, seemingly unimpressed by the crazy rock formations, and Balta was busy with their pop-up tents.

Ivan must have sensed her disarray for he came over to where she was standing and held her tight. Breathing in his clean smell which reminded her of freshly cut birch wood, she slipped her hands under his shirt. His arms around her created a safe haven in this alien world, and the painful lump that was stuck in her throat slowly dissolved.

Later, as they sat around an open fire she had to fetch a sweater from her bag – her face and arms were scorched but her back icy. The men, however, didn't seem to notice how cool the mountain air was ; they were too busy downing vodka. There were bags of vegetables and flat bread for her in the car and she managed to compose a tasty, although frugal meal.

Soon after, they pulled their sleeping bags out of the boot, ready to go into their tents. As Ivan walked pass hers, she lightly took hold of his hand, saying, Do come in, I will feel safer if there's a Cossack in my humble abode.

He gave her a slow smile. I shall forgive you your ignorance, he said, but a Cossack doesn't need to be invited in, he takes what he pleases, and he ducked into her tent.

Oh, I'm not afraid of the big bad wolf, she joked, a little taken aback nevertheless at how swiftly he had moved. I'm an American girl and nothing fazes me.

His eyes shone like sapphires in the light given off by a small lantern hanging from the roof of the tent as his gaze traveled over her appraisingly, sending a thrill through her. She was trapped in close quarters with a cool predator, a beast who took pleasure in the stalk. She turned and as she busied herself rolling out her sleeping bag, Ivan seized her from behind in a steely embrace and murmured, Maybe you are wrong, sweetheart, and should be afraid. This is not America.

She managed to squirm round and look up at him. His eyes were bright and fiery, his mouth bent in a thin cruel smile. He was as pale as death, and his arms crushed her like a vice.

I'll scream and Balta will come to rescue me ! she bantered, doing her best to hide how nervous he was making her.

He laughed softly, Balta does what I tell him to do, so you are doomed my little dragon girl. And he stared at her intently. She didn't flinch and after a while his grip softened and he kissed her gently.

What got into you, Ivan ? she asked, still ruffled at being manhandled.

Some would say – old habits die hard. Perhaps it's being back here in one of the places where I fought for the Tsar.

You certainly were weird, she said in hushed tones, taking a deep breath and rubbing her sore ribs before pushing the blond strands of hair away from his eyes.

Stop me immediately if it happens again, he said shamefully, kissing her hand and looking all of a sudden young and boyish.

How ? You don't realize how strong you are !

Just say 'Dniepr,' it will bring me back to my senses. Dniepr was a prince among horses and I can't think of how Ivana butchered him without feeling great distress.

She would have to ask Balta about Ivan's campaigns, sometime. But a thought suddenly popped into her mind – could he have been testing her to see if she would shift under stress ? The idea was unnerving...

Let us get some sleep, she said as she patted down both bags out before sliding into hers. Ivan stretched out behind her, arms clasping her tight. She listened attentively to the sounds of the canyon around them. The light wind whispered softly as it swirled around the heated stones, making them sigh. Inside the tent it was cool, almost cold ; Ivan was breathing regularly and she was grateful his body against hers radiated heat like a furnace. She heard him moan and mutter something that sounded like a blue streak of rubbish as she drowsily snuggled deeper in her bag, wondering at how alien he could be at times.

3  Echoes of the Past

The next morning, before crossing over to China, they left the Landrover in a small settlement of round white yurts, and loaded all their gear onto the pack horses that were ready for them. Ivan and Balta had inspected their mounts very carefully and asked for a rather large black one to be replaced by a much smaller white one. This had caused some haggling, but Ivan crossed the chief's hand with silver and that did the trick. Athalinda took pictures of the yurts and the women in their butter-colored costumes richly embroidered with geometrical designs in dark blue and orange, with here and there a fur trimming. She would send the photos to Natara for an article on Central Asia in the Hare County and Destiny Herald, her hometown newspaper. The older women, faces tanned a deep copper by the elements and covered with dense networks of wrinkles, crowded around her, smiling and laughing, some exposing bare gums. They gave her a bag of 'bansak' – deep fried bread – as well as some fermented horse's milk. Athalinda asked Ivan what the women were saying, why they were so merry and kept nudging each other.

They are telling you not to drink too much of the milk at one time, especially not when alone in the mountains with two men… it can be very intoxicating.

She winked back at them, and lifting up the bottle of milk, kissed it as the women nodded, grinning and clapping heartily. The world might be vast, but people weren't so very different, wherever you went.

Everything in this part of the world seems to be homemade, she remarked as the men were checking the load, it would be paradise for the Nufreak community – no factory produced food, no mass produced meat.

Nufreaks are not men, Ivan replied scornfully, they are ungodly creations !

You Semeys sure have a superiority complex, Athalinda fumed. If we look at things as they are, both of your communities are outlandish – just so in a different way.

Ivan smiled and took her hand, kissing it. I apologize, my princess. I forget that they are your friends. He seemed genuinely contrite, but the change had been sudden. Her thoughts returned to the Poconos, her friends and her home high above the small town of Destiny. These mountains were beautiful and awe inspiring, but she already longed to be back where she belonged.

After that, they started climbing towards the high passes which would lead them to the orchard her parents had traveled to so many years ago. The path wove its way up through narrow canyons lined with spruce, and over verdant grassy openings. Balta traveled ahead. Athalinda noticed that he was on the look out all the time, and she had the feeling it wasn't just to check their route. She recalled her father's interest in fauna, particularly his obsession with cryptids. From what she had gleaned from her mother's diary, Russel Ward had not found the creature he was seeking in the Kunlun Mountains.

What kinds of animals inhabit these hills ? she inquired ; Ivan had been stationed in the region even if it was very long ago.

Back in my days, it was snow leopards, bears, mountain goats, wild boar and deer ; it probably hasn't changed much, as these mountains are sparsely populated.

She glanced up at Ivan ; his intense gaze was on her and her heart