“When was the last time you were on a quest?”
Shrugging, Akiva muttered, “Five years ago, I suppose. Why?”
“Aren’t vision quests about deprivation? You don’t drink water. You don’t eat. You starve your physical body in order to make it a receptacle so that spirit can come to you and give you a dream…a vision that will help you grow and become an even better warrior than you are now, right?”
“Yes…” Akiva eyed Maya with growing distrust. She felt her C.O. heading toward some unknown goal with this unexpected maneuver in their conversation. She knew Maya’s mystical training had taken place among her people in Brazil, where she was born. Oh, Maya never talked about it, mysticism was not a common topic of conversation on the Black Jaguar Base. Daily combat missions and the interdiction of drug shipments was what their lives revolved around. So it was a big surprise that threw Akiva off balance when Maya started talking to her in an intimate, knowing tone about her own background and belief system. Native Americans had vision quests; it was one of the sacred rites they chose to undertake, sometimes on a yearly basis.
It was a time of cleansing, a time to pray for healing of any bleeding wounds within them. And it was a brutal physical test, draining participants on the physical dimension in order to leave them open for spirit to speak to them—if they were fortunate enough to have that happen. An individual could go on a vision quest for four days and receive no vision, nothing. That was about the worst thing Akiva could imagine happening.
“Where are you going with this little analogy?” she demanded huskily, watching her superior like a hawk. Akiva could feel the energy shift, change and become very solid around Maya. Akiva was not clairvoyant, but she had a kind of all-terrain radar that she called “blind faith knowing.” It had saved her butt many times out on gunship missions when deadly Black Shark Kamov helicopters, flown by Russian mercenary pilots paid by drug lords, had hunted her. She could sense the Kamovs before she ever saw them. Apache helicopters couldn’t pick up the radar signature on the Kamov, so all the pilots in the Black Jaguar Squadron had to more or less rely on their well-honed intuition to be able to feel the enemy out before the drug runners shot them out of the sky.
Raising one eyebrow, Maya said quietly, “I want you to consider this new mission like a vision quest, Akiva. You will go in knowing there’s likely to be physical deprivation and emotional demands placed upon you that you aren’t sure you can deal with adequately or appropriately. In the process, there’s going to be surrender to a higher power, just like on a quest. You have a hatred of white men. You’re going into this vision quest with the opportunity to transcend your wounds by trying to rise above them.” Maya’s eyes glittered knowingly. “You’re going to have to put your people and the mission before your own personal pain. In a vision quest, you are asked to put all your personal feelings aside and concentrate on praying to the Great Spirit for guidance, support and help. This black ops mission is well beyond you in some ways, and we both know it. I’m putting my money on you—that you’ll transcend the fires, become better than you are presently, and grow into the job requirements. I’m not asking you to do anything more than you would in a vision quest, where the demands are just as brutal.”
Akiva stared at Maya as her huskily spoken words went straight to her hurting heart. The truth behind them reverberated through her like an earthquake, and Akiva sensed the greater stage where this conflict was being played out, in the unseen worlds that surrounded them. She felt the importance of Maya’s words.
“Joe Calhoun symbolizes your wound because he is a man,” Maya continued softly. “He didn’t cause your pain or your wounding, but because he’s a man, he becomes that for you, Akiva. He’s innocent in all of this. I’ll be having a similar meeting with him in a little while, to tell him he’s been selected for the black ops mission with you. Try to see him as an individual, not as the man or men who wounded you as a child growing up.”
Akiva’s gold eyes flared with surprise. She’d never spoken to Maya—indeed, not to anyone—about her childhood. As she looked into her C.O.’s deep green eyes, she felt heat flow through her and touch her aching heart. Yes, she was scarred, deeply wounded by white men. But how did Maya know?
Akiva thought better of asking. Maya was a medicine woman of her clan, and one simply did not go up and baldly ask how she knew a person’s mind and heart. Medicine people often knew the unknowable, for they could pierce the veils of mystery and see a person’s past as well as her present and future.
Akiva shifted uncomfortably in her chair now that she knew Maya had seen her ugly, sordid past. Shame flowed through her, for she didn’t want anyone to know the torment and trauma she’d suffered and endured. The gentleness in Maya’s tone ripped off some of the scabs over that festering wound that consumed her heart and spirit. Akiva could better keep her defense in place against someone who yelled at her, than she could against compassion and nurturance. Her life, thus far, had not included such things, so she didn’t know how to deal with them.
“Your entire life, Akiva, has been a vision quest. I know you understand this.”
Wincing, Akiva jerked her gaze from Maya’s face to the tiled floor beneath her booted feet. She stared, unseeing, down at her highly polished combat boots, her black uniform blousing along the tops. Gulping, she gripped the arms of the chair. Red-hot pain gripped her heart. Her breathing deepened.
Maya reached out and placed her hand on Akiva’s tense shoulder. “I know from my own experience that some people volunteer for such a life, Akiva. They are strong, old spirits who have gone through many, many lifetimes in human form, becoming spiritually strong under adverse circumstances that would normally destroy a person.”
Her fingers tightened on Akiva’s shoulder. “Much is asked of us when we volunteer for that kind of life mission, my sister. And I do know what I’m asking of you, Akiva. What I ask goes far beyond any military orders, or even this three-dimensional world. You came into this life like I did—to fight the darkness. To bring light back to the world. We are on the front lines of this war between dark and light. We were born and bred for it. We had to have a very tough beginning in order to shape and strengthen us for what lay ahead. I need you for this black ops, Akiva. I need your heart, your passionate spirit, your fearlessness and your focus. I know I’m asking a lot of you.”
Maya’s voice lowered. “But you must see this mission as a vision quest, one that will be brutal on you emotionally and mentally in ways you’ve never had to deal with before. I know you can handle it. You’re courageous. Your bravery often leaves me breathless.” Maya removed her hand and stood near Akiva, who had bent over in the chair, almost in a fetal position. Maya felt the depth of her pain and closed her eyes momentarily.
“Many are called, Akiva, but few can really answer the call. You’re one who can. My bet is on you…that you’ll pick up the reins of this mission and give it your heart and spirit. The light burns brightly in you, and your jaguar spirit guide from your great-great-grandmother is with you at all times. Jaguar people never flinch from what is racing toward them. We stand our ground, straight and tall, and we prepare ourselves for the assault coming our way. And deep inside us, Akiva, we know without a doubt that the light—the guardians on that other side of the veil—will protect us, work with us and help us to withstand the blows we’re bound to suffer.”
Akiva forced herself to straighten. She felt Maya’s warm, throbbing energy surrounding her, like a mother cradling her child lovingly to her breast. The sensation was so foreign to her that it left