Transcending the Legacy by Venessa Kimball Page B

it deep in my own bones now along with the small forewarning tremors inside of me. “Have you had visions? Is that what started the fascination?” I am face to face with him now, wedged between my father and him. “What have you seen, Sebastian?”

 
    Jesca surveys my face, looking for an explanation, a shift in my expression, anything that could give her a clue as to how to save us from our end of days. Her question, “What have you seen Sebastian?” is absolute and demands the truth that I have been withholding.
    “When I was a child, it did not mean the same as it does now. The meaning evolved as I matured.”
    I look at each of the guardians watching me, waiting for any bit of hope from what I have seen. I close my eyes and tell them.
     
    * * *
     
    “I watch two strong, tan hands striking a rawhide drum in turn. Native American Indians dressed in deerskin move quickly among their huts. The looks in their eyes is that of fear. They are expecting something, a change.
    With bows, arrows, tomahawks, and battling clubs in hand, the tribal warriors gather in the village center.
    I feel my body and mind carried away to a hilltop suddenly. I still hear the sound of the even drum beat, but it is further away now. I notice a young boy, about five or six years old. He is perched on a rock palisade surrounding the tribe’s village. He has paint, markings on his face, just like his warrior forefathers. The boy looks out into the distance covering the vast amount of land with his keen eyes.
    Watching his eye movement, they dart to one spot in the distance all of a sudden. His brows knit together, concentrating on what he is seeing. I begin to track his gaze just as I hear a splash in the nearby river. Horses and men dressed in uniform, weapons held high as they approach the village. The boy turns toward his village crying out a warning to his people.”
    I take a sip of water to quench my dry throat before I continue.
     
    “They were being attacked by men from a foreign land. The emotions of this boy, these people, I feel them all just as if I was there at that ancient time among them experiencing their anxiety. ”
     
    A few of the guardians nod. I assume they are recalling the emotions that coursed through them at the time of their visions.
     
    I continue, “The warriors, they are forming a blockade with their bodies to try and stop the invasion. Each of them share similar markings on their faces and arms; Creek Indian symbols.”
    Remembering the soldiers that had chosen to fight by the natives’ side, I continue my recollection for the guardians. “There were white men among them, like those that were invading. They wore the marks and symbols like the Creeks and stood with them against their own people.
    There is one man, a white man, marked with the symbols of the Creek exiting a thatched hut with a native woman and young girl. The girl, she resembles the woman, her mother maybe. The painted white man runs along side of the woman and young girl behind the barricade of warriors, toward the largest of the ancient mounds. Once they are there, the man tells the woman and girl to hurry into the depth of the mound through a tunnel.”
    My eyes meet Xander’s, remembering that he was the one that experienced the girl.
    I speak to him, “As I watch the mother and daughter walk along the tunnel, I see them climb down a laddered shaft and into a kiva. As a child, I did not know this. It took me time to learn about the meaning of the kiva, how it is a sacred place of rituals. The mother and daughter enter the sacred room. This is what you saw, Xander.”
    Peering at me with extreme intensity, Xander nods his head as he remembers the event of seeing the girl in his own vision.
    Siobhan interrupts, “What about the man? Why did he not go with them?”
    “ More research. Those that are not native to the tribe may not enter a kiva. It is tribal law.”
    Luke adds, “It is also tribal law of the mound builders to only allow