The Searcher: No Boundaries
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About this ebook
It is 1958 as a teenager scans the beach of Cabo Mar. But Max is not a casual visitor gazing at the Pacific as he appears to be. He is really a three-hundred-year-old Searcher going mad with frustration. Sir Maximillian, the seventh knight of King Authors Round Table, is on a maddening quest to find Lo-Lo, the lost daughter of his true love, Queen Elainea journey that has taken him much longer than he ever imagined.
For Max, many challenges lie ahead. He must find Lo-Lo and return her to her mothers throne, avenge the brutal murder of her mother, and trace the royal blood line of their Kingdom of Astolot. Meanwhile, twenty-two-year-old Lo-Lonow going by Roz in her mortal lifeis living in California, without any idea that hundreds of years ago, she was kidnapped and now eerily resembles Elaine, her mother from so long ago. But when Max finally sees Lo-Lo emerging from the ocean, he can hardly believe his eyes. He has found her at last, but Lo-Lo may not be ready to hear everything he has to say.
In this magical tale laced with greed and avarice, only time will tell if the force of overwhelming love has the power to bring generations of courageous characters together at last.
Rosilla Bradley Rogers
Rosilla Bradley Rogers has participated in mountain rescue in the high Sierras and the deserts of Baja California, Mexico, for over forty years. She is the mother of seven biological and six adopted children and grandmother to twenty-five grandchildren. She lives in Santa Barbara, California.
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The Searcher - Rosilla Bradley Rogers
Copyright © 2010, 2013 by Rosilla Bradley Rogers.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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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Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-5840-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4759-5842-3 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4759-5841-6 (ebk)
iUniverse rev. date: 11/13/2012
CONTENTS
Foreword - Spirit Talk
PROLOGUE - THE BEGINNING
The Arrival
The Mermaid / The Lady From The Sea
Twins
—Or Were They?
THE BEGINNING
The Searcher
MY AWAKENING
A Little Late But On The Job
A Little Blood
The Englishman Who Was A Buddhist
THE CHANGE
Shock After Shock
The Princess Of Astolot
The Glider Port
MAX’S LITTLE TRIBE
The Backcountry
No Boundaries
MY DREAMS
In The Quiet Of The Night
Who Is Lo-Lo?
Stew In The Pinacate Desert
How To Make Stew In The Pinacate Desert
Life Returns To Normal
THE DAYS OF THE KNIGHTS
A Rock With My Name On It
Elaine, The Lady Of The Lake
Sixteen Miles Of Books
THE WELSH
Back In University
Dance Of The Maypole’
Intrigue
THE LADY ISABEL
The Chiefess
The Castle
The Ghost Of Astolot
REVENGE IS BEST SERVED COLD
The Courtyard
The White Dove
A Host Of Doves
THE LADY OF THE LAKE
Hearts’ Ease
The Secret
THE LADY OF THE SEA AND A YOUNG SEARCHER, OUR LANCE
Waiting Can Be A Lonely Thing
An End To Waiting
Author’s Notes - On Searchers and Dragons
Addendum - This Subject is Dragons
Fun Codicils - For Your Curiosity
About The Author
FOREWORD
Spirit Talk
This true story is for you who believe in Spirit Talk
For those who do not; read and you may by the end.
I first learned to believe while in search and rescue in the mountains and deserts of the far places in 1958.
In the deepest night your Searcher would gently touch your shoulder and the precipice beside you would move back. Your feet would safely pass on.
Searchers for lost souls or gold or lost civilizations:
We all know it’s a true phenomenon
and don’t puzzle about it. You use it if it’s working for you at the time.
Your Soul must be reaching out for the lost. The Spirit of the lost one talks to you. Will you hear?
If not, you wish your head would quit talking and listen.
But some times your mind is disturbed.
Sometimes your Soul is not open to your Spirit.
You cannot hear the message. You will not hear.
I wish you a good read.
Rosilla Bradley Rogers
2010 A.D.
PROLOGUE
The Beginning
It pays to be watchful while living in the neighborhood of a known dragon
—Mark Twain
CABO MAR, CALIFORNIA
—1958
By Rosilla Bradley Rogers
2006
THE ARRIVAL
Cabo Mar, 1958
No trumpets or horns signaled Max’s arrival. He slid in unnoticed—
under the radar so to speak. He stood quietly, unobtrusively in the background. Just another teen-ager on the empty beach. Three little tots were playing near him close to the Marina Room Restaurant that appeared empty at this hour. No adults. No lifeguards, watching the children. Something was wrong.
To anyone casually looking his way, he appeared relaxed, mildly interested. In truth, his every sense was alert. He was strung tight as a bow.
The Beach was too empty.
The weather was overcast, the sky a dull grey. A brisk wind was catching a few white caps that ruffled the sea. Even so, for an upscale Southern California Beach and Tennis Club the area was too deserted. At 3 o’clock, the time after lunch and before the cocktail hour, It was still too quiet. Then a young woman’s little car came and she whisked the three children off presumably to cook supper. All was silent again. Too quiet.
Between assignments for the Tribunal, he had caught a faint scent on the breeze. The scent of salt, sand and sun. It had brought him here to Cabo Mar. Now to his delight he had gotten a solid hit. He felt
his Lo-Lo. He had come here following a premonition. Or call it a hunch
in his quest for the little girl he had sworn he would Protect. And whom he had so bitterly failed.
He had spent the better part of this afternoon wandering around the Club, acting the casual visiting teenager. He had found a solid feel
of Lo-Lo. She was here. He had the spoor. He knew she was close, but where? She was here but she was not in sight. Nor was anyone else. He felt
her as acutely as he had her mother Elaine while she was alive. They had been able to sense each other, even long distances apart.
His every muscle was ready to act. All while he appeared a casual youthful visitor looking at the Pacific on a grey and chilly day. Beneath his façade of mild disinterest, he was mad with frustration. He was no lonely teen-age visitor. He was a 300 year old Searcher mad with frustration. He had thought to continue his search for Lo-Lo, spending this free time as he so often did in his maddening quest.
I was as unaware of him as he was of me. His every sense was on alert, telling him clearly I was there. Yes, I was there, beneath the surface of the water, taking my first scuba diving lesson. As a modern 22 year-old college graduate would I believe in Searchers as Protectors? Yes, they were all over the movie screens that summer, and I believed in Knights in shining armor and that Robin Hood was Errol Flynn.
Months later when I fell into danger and he was forced to step forward, did I believe his tale of being a Searcher and My Assigned Protector? Are you kidding? But by then I had fallen for him, big time. I was willing to go along with any wild tale in exchange for the kisses. Mmmmm. Yummy. And I didn’t believe for a minute he was any 300 years old! At 22 I was a little old for his 17, but with those kisses, what the heck. Months later when he told me that story of his coming to the Beach and Tennis Club did I believe him? Did I believe there really were Searchers other than in James Campbell 3-D movies? Yes, and I believed Kevin Costner was Eliott Ness. Are you kidding?
In truth Searchers have been with us for eons as Protectors. Only a very few, maybe 3 in 1,000, ever are aware at some level that Searchers are there to Protect
; usually assigned to protect only the ethical leaders of the era the Tribunal has undertaken to safeguard. However, as in the case of the Queen Elaine, the Tribunal to this day has a Searcher on the case
to avenge the wrong done to her while under their protection. Unfinished business after 300 years.
Unusual but true and this is how I, with my mop of red hair, became involved. My wild love for Max developed later out of admiration and loyalty to him, My Max, My Protector, My Man.
At 21, in the time of Camelot, he had been invited to become a Searcher, a Protector. He was Sir Maximillion, Knight of Cornwall, the 7th Knight of the Round Table and appointed by the Tribunal as the Chief Protector of Arthur Glendragon, soon to be King Arthur of Camelot. Regardless of his titles, he was acknowledged as a fiercesome swordsman and Knight.
Now centuries later Max continued his search for the daughter Lo-Lo, spending this free time as he so often did. This day, once again to feel so close but perhaps to lose the trail again. So close and yet there was nothing. No sign of the child Lo-Lo. Nothing.
Two boats and a number of people caught his attention off shore. When we began to climb out of the ocean, he realized it was some sort of class or training. In truth I, his Lo-Lo
, had been near
. He could feel
me but I was nowhere in sight! Only about 25 feet beneath the water for this first scuba class, but well out of even Max’s enhanced Searcher
sight.
THE MERMAID / THE LADY
FROM THE SEA
Cabo Mar, The Ocean
Suddenly he saw me. Dripping wet hair, an ink-black short wet suit, and long white legs rising from the sea. At first the long white legs startled him. He had thought I was some type of seal until he saw the legs.
Wet suits and scuba tanks had not been programmed into his background for this century. He was, after all, no teen-ager but a Searcher using his time off
still searching for the long lost trace of Lo-Lo to lead him to her mother, Elaine. A mermaid with legs appearing suddenly from the sea caught him unprepared. Especially a mermaid with air tanks on her back.
Then I pulled off my diving hood and my face showed clear. It was the face of his Elaine, savaged and dead for more than 250 year’s. It was like a blow to his heart. He dropped to his haunches and retied his shoes while he caught his breath. He had been looking for a five year-old child not a twenty-something nymph with a mop of his Elaine’s fiery red hair.
Now he could see it was obviously not his mortal, long dead Elaine. It was Lo-Lo the daughter. That brought its own sense of joy. It meant that he had succeeded for the first time in one of the parts of his three-pronged quest;
• To find the child and return her to her mother’s throne;
• To avenge the brutal ravaging of her mother, his beloved Elaine, and
• To trace the royal blood line of their Kingdom of Astolot.
Blood tells. That red hair and luminous white skin was the royal blood of Astolot. It shone like a fiery brand. The boyish teen-ager (plus 300 years) was more than experienced at not letting this nymph escape his reach. She was the lead to both the child and the mother, his heart, Elaine.
His shock had been my face. It was the face of Lo-Lo’s mother. There stood his Elaine. Dead on! That’s an unfortunate simile. Elaine had been dead for more than 250 years.
Today, in the 20th century, he had not expected Elaine. For centuries he had been looking for Lo-Lo, her child, kidnapped so long ago. Now here appeared to stand not Lo-Lo but the face of his Elaine. His One Love, lost to him for centuries. He, standing there alone on that beach, felt tears of joy in his eyes. They were old tears of centuries lost.
When he had first seen me his heart had jumped. Against all odds, he thought he had found his eternal love, his Elaine. There I was, although dead for three centuries, there stood the spittin’ image
of his dead love. Well that’s not as gruesome as Dead on
but an even worse simile I think.
After the shock of moments, he had recognized me as the child Lo-Lo, despite Elaine’s face, the wet, stringy hair and a black neopreen, short wet-suit. Searchers can recognize each other by their aura. Not by their outer appearance. Recovering, he realized this was a baby Searcher, barely out of her teens and not yet properly schooled. She had missed his tell-tale signs. He hadn’t thought to disguise them in his shock of seeing Elaine’s face rise from the ocean.
No, not Elaine. The hair was wrong. The nymph from the sea had long straight black hair, while Elaine, his Love, had a