Opening: Game of the Gods , #1

Chapter 1

A helicopter hovers nearer, circling and looking for someone. I briskly turn and head away keeping as low as possible as I skirt along the hedge line, following a nocturnal critters’ path. A fence comes up in the darkness; it's barbed and snags my jacket as I climb through. Cursing while retrieving my backpack, I continue my hasty retreat.

I'm vulnerable right out in the open and use the anger to move faster. The helicopter is gaining ground. Am I visible? Each icy pull of breath pains me to the core; my leg muscles are ablaze from the relentless pounding. In front are shadows of trees, their branches reaching out to me. The ground gets rockier, just a few more strides. The droning of the rotor blades driving me like a hunted fox to its forest den. Branches reach out and pull me into the undergrowth, where I jostle and fidget until I’m well hidden. Flat on my empty belly I lie still, as Ben had been when I left home tonight. The chopper flies over. The ragged deep breaths rattle my ribs and raging thoughts of earlier are the engine for my trembling.

When I returned home this evening, I could hear Ben shouting as I took off my coat. I hadn't meant to eavesdrop on him. I thought it was my aunt he was being aggressive with. I stormed into the living room without thinking, my anger ignited.

He looked up from the phone in surprise. She's here, he said, his eyes never leaving me. Then Ben's aura came to life as it usually does when the rage takes over me. He stood there surrounded in flickering reds and yellows. I will deal with her; she will be gone soon, he muttered, and slammed the phone down. His menacing look only fuelled my own burning fire.

What do you mean, I will be gone soon? I said standing up straight as he approached me, with fists balling at my side and jutting my chin out in defiance. He gave no warning when he punched me in the stomach. I expect he thought it would be enough to buckle a sixteen-year-old girl. But my explosive return sent him reeling.

When I focused again his limp body lay at my feet and a smashed lamp was in my hand. I never even heard as it cracked across his skull. I must have gathered some belongings in my hasty retreat, but I don't remember in the aftermath exactly what I did.

Now I'm lying here shaking, not sure if it's from shock of the night's events or the icy rain that keeps falling on me. I have no recollection of how I got here. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and it took the helicopter to bring me back to the here and now.

Who was Ben talking to on the phone? Why does he, and whoever it was he was speaking to, want me gone? That is enough to pull me back from the dark abyss I'm heading for. I let the anger rise up again; it gets me back on my feet and fuels my steps.

I walk down the side of a ploughed field along a grassy verge; there's an orange haze to my left. A town must be close by. Without warning I hear dogs barking and see torches dancing round in the field across the way.

Indecision clouds my mind; I can only move my head from side to side. My muscles stretch ready like rubber bands. Within seconds my brain kick-starts again and sends me forward. First the helicopter and now this; it can only mean one thing: they found Ben.

My direction takes me into the deeply ploughed earth and I have to find my stride as I leap into each gully. The mud sticks and my boots become cumbersome weights. I'm fighting for breath again and find my strength waning with each passing second. I stumble and go down onto my hands and knees, and when I look behind I see the hunting party is heading my way. Do the dogs have my scent?

Getting up, I run on towards another orange haze stretching out in front of me; it can't be the town, that's behind me now. The orange light gets closer and with it I can hear the familiar hum of traffic. It must be a motorway. I have no idea what I'm going to do once I reach it, and pray that a solution appears.

When I glance behind again the torch lights are sweeping the ground, fortunately I'm too far away for their beams to pick me up. The dogs begin barking excitedly and with one swoop all the torches flash my way. The adrenaline surges and my pace quickens. It will be only matter of minutes before they apprehend me.

Before me is a line of trees, obviously planted by man as they are too uniformly apart to be natural. The buzz of traffic gets louder. Out of the darkness I step and into an artery of traffic. Even at this time of night the road is busy and has no safe place to cross. I can hear the barking of dogs getting closer. Looking both ways, I see a service station to my left. I have an idea and run, staying in the shadows.

My legs travel faster on the short grass, the ground begins to slope down and I squat behind a bush surveying the lorry park and get my breath back. There are plenty of lorries parked up for the night, but only three are in the temporary park.

One is a tanker so not much help, the second a fridge trailer, definitely no good, but the third is a car transporter, carrying three cars. Two are totalled but the one at the back just has the rear crushed in. Conveniently the back window is popped out. With a quick look round I dash down another incline to the rear of the lorry and throw my bag in through the back window of the car and follow head first.

The inside is nice with black leather seats; it’s a new BMW and was once a lovely car. I scramble between the front seats and settle down in the foot well of the passenger seat. Then I wait, hoping the dogs and handlers aren't close and the transporter driver comes back quickly. My watch tells me it's just gone one. I listen with a thumping heart. A dog barks, shredding my already frayed nerves. Everything remains quiet; it must have been a family dog in one of the other vehicles. Stupid dog!

The minutes tick by and I begin losing hope, but then the lorry suddenly shudders to a start and the engine revs. The driver lets it run a minute and I will him to move, then my silent pleas are answered and the airbrakes release with a squeal and we start rolling forward. I want to look, but I dare not in case someone sees my head peeking up.

The lorry swings to the left then right and gradually our speed increases, the engine changing its tune with every shift of the gears. I can't resist it any longer and bob my head up. We are on the motorway and heading west.

Behind me and coming towards us at great speed with flashing blue lights are several police cars. I hold my breath and then watch them exit the motorway into the service station. My breath releases in a long sigh, the relief of tension slackens my tight muscles. I lay my head down on the seat and close my eyes. I'm reprieved for now.

Am I that much of a threat that they need so many people after me? It was self-defence sort of. My dad would have backed me up, if he had been around. Major John Mcburney formerly of the Royal Regiment of Ayrshire. Nowadays a spy working as a bogus character that infiltrates groups of terrorists, he’s also called an undercover agent or, my favourite, a spook.

My mother, well she ran out on us when I was six so it's no wonder I'm messed up. I do have someone I can turn to: his name is Arion. I slide into the seat and get comfortable. Exhausted, I know that soon I will be able to talk to him. I only ever see him in my dreams. Depending how deep my sleep is determines how long before I notice him. Sometimes he is just a presence that watches. Tonight I'm sure he will make his arrival known.

I shut my eyes and let myself doze to the hum of tyres and the whoosh-and-swish of passing cars. When finally I focus in on him he's worried.

Iris, where are you?

In my dream we are walking down a narrow dark lane. I recognise it as the one by my aunt’s cottage. We are being followed by shadows; they try closing in, and I can feel their suffocation starting to wrap around my throat. Arion walks us into a field and the sun comes out, banishing the oppressive darkness, releasing its hold on me. I take in long gulps, a warmth floods over me; it’s summer. I love how he can change my dreams.

I'm in the back of a lorry. I'm okay ... I killed Ben, I say easily in my Scottish accent and sit down in the long grass. The scene around me is not in focus, more of just a feeling and I know it's in my head but I take comfort knowing I'm safe.

Arion drops down beside me and shuts his eyes, his black hair with copper highlights shine in the sunlight and his flawless bronze skin stands out against the white ancient Greek tunic he wears. It doesn't look unusual on him; he's always worn it. Maybe what I should be more concerned at is his age. He's my age, we grew up together. In reality I know he's over two thousand years old.

I watched your thoughts; you've been replaying it over and over, he says. I nod at him and start picking at the grass. When you get off the vehicle find a safe place and try to sleep, so I can find you.

I slump with relief because it's just what I wanted to hear. It cheers me up knowing I will see Arion again for real. We have met only once before while I was on holiday in Cyprus. At a time when my mum and dad were together and everything was normal and happy. He was in his horse form then.

Arion is a shape-shifter. His mother is Demeter and his father Poseidon and like them he's a Greek god, a truly worthy immortal. I suddenly realise I don't deserve to be with him as I've just killed another human being.

I didn’t want to kill him... ach, but I had no choice.

I can read your mind while you sleep, as that’s a time when you cannot lie even to yourself, let alone me. I know you are not a bad person, so do not concern yourself with thoughts on worth. You were defending yourself. I look up into his black ebony eyes; they are soft and subdued, full of beauty and trust.

We sit and chat for a while longer. Then it's time to wake up properly. The images around me start to fade and it all goes dark, but there's still so much I want to ask him. I really must remember next time.

The engine changing down and the momentum slowing wakes me. Morning hasn't broken yet. I slide back down into the foot well, my mouth dry and tongue thick. It's two thirty in the morning. We are still on the motorway but it's only two lanes. I stay hidden in the shadows and away from prying eyes.

Out from the road it is dark, very dark. The road widens again to three lanes and our speed increases. A barrier at the edge of the road appears in the artificial glare. Then we pass big steel rope lines diagonally shooting up and attaching themselves to the huge columns that hold up the motorway from the estuary below, we are on the Severn Bridge.

The cold is biting; my fingers and toes hurt from the chilly draft of air that jets in from the back. The burning rage that had pushed me on has now been replaced by a cold numbness, deadening my body and mind. My thoughts can't focus. If I let the rage boil I will feel again, but I wouldn't cry, I never cry.

It isn't long before lights appear ahead of us. The lorry slows down and stops, so the driver can pay the toll. I have made it into Wales. Arion is in Wales and I need to get off this lorry. I suspect the end of the line is a breakers yard and I don't fancy being crushed to death!

Slowly lifting myself back into the seat, I grow weary and hardly notice the signs for Newport. Falling asleep is not an option. Digging around in my pockets I find a packet of Polos and pop a couple into my mouth, then guzzle down water from the plastic bottle I grabbed before leaving. The water hits my minty chilled taste buds and turns the liquid icy cold as it swishes round my mouth and down my throat; it has the desired effect, sharpening my senses.

We pass another sign for Newport and the countdown signs flash by. The engine changes its rhythm and the blurring scenery beside me slows. We glide to the left and exit the motorway down the ramp. I'm relieved to see no one behind. Now if only those traffic lights in front could stay red.

The lorry comes to a stop. My frozen legs send me scrambling awkwardly over the seats, banging my shins on the gear stick. The pain has me gritting my teeth, and I let the anger mount, knowing it will help me to clamber out of the window and jump off the trailer.

As it drives off I bolt to the motorway bridge that goes over the roundabout we have just stopped at. My heart is beating rapidly as I crouch down hiding behind one of its supports.

Chapter 2

Peeking round the corner of the bridge support I take in my surroundings. The motorway goes straight over a large roundabout. Industrial buildings encircle me furnished with light, silent except for the occasional clang and clank of people at work.

A short distance away, I spot a Premier Inn. What I'd give now to walk in there and book a room. It’s torture knowing warm beds are just a few metres away. Could I risk it? No, best not, I've got this far; it would be stupid to jeopardise everything.

In the orange artificial light, with rain lashing down, I notice woodland between the hotel and a grey characterless building. All I need is the black balaclava to finish my outfit as, like a criminal, I duck and hide from traffic to reach the trees.

It's a crowded wood but offers no respite from the rain that still continues to fall; I push my way through and regularly trip over roots. Branches slap back at me. Water penetrates everywhere, seeping even into my boots from the dripping shrubbery. With each step I take my feet get more sodden and the squelching becomes a repetitive percussion.

I punch through the undergrowth and find myself standing on a well-manicured lawn that stretches out for acres. The golf course is an attractive one; the fairway is on a gentle slope that leads up to a haughty club house. The sand bunkers are neat shapes in the well-groomed grass, and on closer inspection I see they are filled with water from all the rain we are having and resemble mini lakes.

Tucking my head in I move away from the building, and follow a gravel pathway golf buggies will use. The rain is falling faster, it hurts as it pummels into me and I shiver uncontrollably. A tunnel comes into view, which goes under the road and into another part of the golf course. It's dry, somewhere to rest.

My rucksack gets dumped on the ground as I sit down, easing my weary bones. Water trickles down my back and pools at my seat. I take off my boots and socks. My feet feel wrinkly and sore, they will get painful soon and walking will be unbearable. I wring the water out and cringe as I put the cold socks back on. My shoulders slump and I cast my eyes down, frowning and shaking my head.

This feeling of helplessness could send me down into debilitating self-pity, but I refuse to succumb to it and instead stare out into the night rethinking my plan. I need to find somewhere else sheltered; this place will be too busy with golfers in a few hours. Even if the rain doesn't let up, those crazy individuals are still inclined to be out. The police shouldn't be looking for me round here; even if they put two and two together and guess I hitched a ride, I could be anywhere. Probably best if I keep myself hidden, all the same.

Five more minutes then I’ll move again. I think about Arion and that first day I met him. It's one I play over and over again. We were invited to visit stables belonging to a friend of my mum's. I always knew she adored horses, and I always thought that was why my dad refused to let me have anything to do with them. Except that didn't work.

We stopped by this lovely black horse with orange tints in his mane, which was the same colour as my hair. The man showing us around asked my dad if I would like to sit on the horse. I squealed in delight, having normal six-year-old emotions. He had no choice but to agree.

When they took me off Arion I remember feeling like something inside me had broken. It wasn't until later I found out that it was my emotions, but anger soon resurfaced and it opened up a new world to me. When anger took hold I saw people's auras. From seeing their auras I learnt how they felt. Later on my skill got better so I could feel any strong emotion around me, be it anger, sadness, or happiness.

Like the time the school guinea pig died when I was eight. All the other children were crying and I could feel the weight of their sorrow. I knew I should be upset, I felt bad the animal had died, but I didn’t want to cry. I pretended to so they wouldn’t think I was heartless and my acting skills grew better each year.

I keep trying to remember to ask Arion what happened the day we met and why everything changed after I came home. It wasn’t long after my Mother left.

My dad didn't cope very well when she went. He threw himself into work and sent me to live with his sister, Rachel. My aunt works as a primary school teacher. I don't make her life easy. It’s bad enough everyone thinks I’m quirky, and I admit I do get into trouble a lot. It's not my fault that kids try to bully me, but they only try once and unfortunately they look worse for it; that probably explains why I'm the one that's always blamed.

My aunt gave up trying to understand me and we avoided each other as much as possible; you'll find her down at the gym most days. That's where she met Ben the lorry driver. He came along and swept Aunt Rachel off her feet; she fell in love quickly. He moved in not long after. A memory of him lying face down comes back to haunt me. I think of something else instead and try to remember what my mum looked like. My dad says I look like her.

I have deep ocean-blue eyes with long lashes and bright orange hair, which stands out against my pale skin. All my facial features are small, not in a piggy way but more elf-like someone once said. I take after my mum for my height too, as my dad is tall, over six feet two, while I am only just over five feet and skinny to go with it. I look more like a twelve-year-old; I am the epitome of petite. For what Arion has planned it would be better if I looked older.

He's at a racing yard. The trainer, Phillip Lays, doesn't sound like a very nice person to work for; the horses, however, are treated well and he has a lot of winners. He has trouble keeping staff though: one member has just left and there is an opening available. Providing I can pass for an eighteen-year-old I will apply.

With that in mind I heave myself up; already I can feel my muscles stiffening. Just lifting my backpack is an effort; my legs are heavy and wooden as I step forward. My whole body shudders as I re-emerge from the tunnel and the torrent of rain attacks me from the side. I shove my hands into my pockets and tilt my head away. Water runs into my eyes, if I could cry you wouldn't be able to tell where my tears began and the rain ended.

It's a short walk over the golf course into another patch of woods that slope downwards; the woods have paths so I don't have to contend with another argument with the trees. Unfortunately the paths are knee deep in mud. It's pitch-black so I can't see where to put my feet, and I fall over more than once.

By the time I find the lane I look as if I've just wrestled a pig and lost. It's getting on to being nearly four in the morning. There is no sign of any place to stop, my feet drag with fatigue and even though I don't have the energy I merely keep going.

I start getting desperate for a place, even contemplating lying down under a bush, I'm that tired. The light is starting to change as dawn approaches; maybe that's a good thing. Otherwise I would have probably missed the corrugated barn concealed behind a row of trees.

With every last bit of strength I drag myself over and am rewarded to see a barn full of straw. They are small oat bales and some have broken open leaving me with a springy warm mattress, perfect for snuggling into. For the first time since leaving home my body relaxes and I feel safe. Sleep comes quickly and so does Arion.

Chapter 3

Arion enters my dreams quickly. I'm sitting on a beach somewhere hot and sunny. It feels blissful and I curl my toes into the sand. Arion stands beside me in his horse form and looks majestic as he stares out at the ocean. The light reflects off his solid black coat and the copper highlights in his mane dazzle me.

We decide it's too risky to get me with dawn breaking. So instead we make plans for him to collect me later that night when most people are asleep. He knows where I am; he says the connection we gained from that first meeting is enough for him to locate me.

How can you enter my dreams? I ask. I'm sure I've asked this question before, but I can't remember him answering.

While you sleep your mind is open and your thoughts lucid; they are easy to manipulate, he says in a bored voice.

Why can’t you do that when I'm awake?

When you are awake I can't get through your shields. Humans have a natural ability to protect themselves.

He starts to walk around, dropping his head and looking for a place to lie down. He takes his time finding the right spot. Then at last his knees buckle, quickly followed by the back legs.

I shuffle over, knowing that a roll is imminent.

So it's a type of telepathy?

Yes, he says.

Arion then rolls over, grunting and groaning as he reaches the itchy parts. The sand flies over me and I have to ruffle it out of my hair. Then he gets up and shakes, covering me again. I look at him with exasperation.

When you come to get me, why don't we just leave?

Staying in one place doesn't seem like a good idea and with Arion’s speed we could go anywhere. He can move so fast he can even cross oceans. We could go back to Cyprus. If I get a job at Phillip’s, surely it will only be a matter of time before I'm recognised and caught.

We can't, not yet; I have a race to run, one that I must win, he says.

Who sent you here? Is it my ma’s friend, the one who showed us around that day? What does he want you to do?

I stand up and we start walking down the beach; it's so realistic I can even hear the water sweeping in and out.

Yes, Marco; he's my friend.

Arion walks to the water's edge. The sun is setting. I can feel his mood darkening the skies.

Do you talk to him in his dreams? Distance doesn't matter for Arion.

He shakes his head. The last time we spoke he told me to stay here and look after you.

Why? I stop and fold my arms.

He knows all about you, we've discussed your lessons regularly. This surprises me. I told him you were having trouble at home, he was concerned and told me to wait for further instructions. That was the last time I heard from him. Now you are here I think we should just bide our time and see what happens. I can always get you out quickly if you are discovered.

We both stare out at the water. Since Arion came to my dreams he's been teaching me how to fight. Why would he go to all this trouble of teaching all this stuff? There has to be a reason and what is Marco's place in all this?

Have you been preparing me for something?

Arion’s aura shimmers to life; it's a forest green and reminds me of spring. His nostrils flare and ears flick back and forth; he looks unsure of what to say.

Not here. Later, when we come together for real. His voice is quiet.

When? I say, stamping my foot like a child, the anger starting to rise up.

Later. Calm yourself.

He's looking at me with concern. I feel a pushing against me then an invisible cloak wraps around my body, my legs collapse and darkness consumes me.

I'm sitting on a beach in the twilight, the sand is warm and I curl my toes feeling the grains crunch between them. Arion is looking at me with sorrow. I've come into my dream feeling angry; I wish Arion could help me control it. Sometimes we go for a gallop in my night-time thoughts and it usually helps, his power wraps round me and keeps me calm.

Tonight when I come and get you, I will show you for real how fast I can go, it will be so much better than our dream rides. He's read my mind, he usually does.

I'm just about to ask how he can come into my dreams when he interrupts.

I'm looking forward to galloping with you, he says with a mischievous look about him.

I’m not great at bareback riding; I have a tendency to fall off. I laugh. He snorts at me. What? I ask.

You will not fall off me. When you first sat on me we connected; do you not remember the charge of energy? I nod, remembering his power that envelopes me. Well, that means you will stick to me at whatever speed I go. It helps if I have to leap aside I don't have to worry about you sliding off.

I let that piece of information sink in.

So I can’t fall off you ever? He shakes his head, and I smile. I must admit I did wonder how I was going to stay on when you went fast. Ach I can’t wait to try.

And so you will later when I pick you up, he says with a glint in his eye.

There is so much I want to ask you.

I know, he says quietly.

Will your power feel the same as now? He nods.

I reach out to him and the warmth of his power floats up my arm, covering me. The sensation is comforting.

It’s like a shield and everyone has one. You just need to know how to use it.

It's the auras around us, isn't it?

He seems surprised by my comment. Yes. How do you know that?

I'm not sure, just sometimes I think I know what people are feeling from the flashes of colours around them, I say, a bit bewildered. I thought it was you that gave me these powers?

He remains thoughtful. You will have some abilities above your fellow humans. He stops.

Why? I urge him.

He shakes his head and sand flies off his mane. He changed his mind about what he was about to tell me, I'm sure of it.

Do you think being together again could give me more?

The prospect of having extra power is tempting.

All humans have them, Iris, but they only use a small part of their brains. They haven't learnt to use the most powerful part yet.

"Is it possible to