The Locket Chronicles: Bok

© 2012 Carole Bailey. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/18/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0940-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0939-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0938-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012909022

Scripture taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE®, Copyright © 1960,1962,1963,1968,1971,1972,1973,1975,1977,1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

For my grandchildren

May the road rise up to meet you,

May the wind always be at your back,

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your fields

and until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

—Irish Blessing

BOK

Kate Phillips—Pilot/wing walker. Cousin to Jen Fillmore

Jen Fillmore—Wing walker/pilot. Cousin to Kate Phillips

Raguel—Mentor to Kate and Jen in Gudsrika

Gudsrika

Atasa—Ruler of Obex

Atur—King of Ǿde

Eldré—Wise elder of Quae

Flan—Son of Malki. Heir to Malki’s throne

Friar Tuck—Mysta’s number one aide

Hákon—Son of Atur. Heir to throne of Ǿde

Ionta—Queen of Gäer. Mother of Kotkel

Kore—Earl of Töwl Isle

Kotkel—King of Gäer

Krigere—Younger brother of Malki

Lieg—Teaches Jen to fly the Maup bird

Malki—King of Etelä. Self declared High King of Gudsrika

Mysta—High Priest of Gudsrika

Όν—Friend of Raguel. Twin of Ρακα

Ρακα—Friend of Rocus. Twin of Όν

Rapio—Dark Prince of Bigna

Rocas—Rapio’s servant. Twin of Raguel

Taka—Teaches Kate to fly the Maup bird

Vannin—Prince of Shelfus Isle

EARTH WORLD

Gormflath—Queen of Dublin. Mother of Sitric.

Sitric—King of Dublin.

Chapter One

The eagle circled lazily in the afternoon breeze above the waving golden grain that edged the north side of the gray concrete runway. Each updraft took the bird’s giant wingspan higher in the blue sky, closer to the sun.

Icarus, Kate whispered, remembering her college Greek mythology class. Be careful my feathered friend. Don’t get too close to its blazing surface and melt your wings.

Soaring upward on each thermal, the eagle momentarily froze and then glided downward, caught the next upward thermal and repeated his flight pattern. Fixed into a stare, Kate could not pull her attention away from the strength in the eagle’s air voyage. She stretched out flatter atop the fabric covered frame of the Stearman airplane’s wing to get a better view. Each movement of the powerful brown and white bird drew her further into the eagle’s world filled with the tranquility of the moving wind around him. She knew the feeling. She knew the serenity. She knew the freedom.

Her thoughts jumped to another eagle—another time—a time she walked the beach along the shores of the Del Coronado Hotel in Southern California with her cousin Jen. The summer afternoon sun warmed the sand beneath their bare feet. Stopping to gaze at an eagle riding the ocean of air currents rising from the Pacific Ocean’s white capped waves, their future was in flux. College was behind them and the world was open to them.

Kate, Jen said. I know we can do it. It will be fun. How many women wing walkers do you think there are?

Kate shrugged in fake mockery. As many as angels that dance on the head of a pin? she grinned.

Jen ignored her playful remark. Instead, she pointed toward the grace of the eagle, floating on the air column rising from the sea. How many people get to soar like an eagle, free atop the wings of a Stearman with the wind pushing at your face?

As many as elves that soar on the back of reindeer with Santa on Christmas Eve? Kate’s smile broadened across her face.

Jen picked up a flat stone and skipped it in the receding wave. Throwing her arms out, she spun around like a top.

Kate! Can you just imagine the wonderful feeling of being up with the birds—unencumbered?

A vivid video played in Kate’s head of the air show they had watched earlier in the day. Seeing the graceful movements of the women daredevils dance on the wings of their Stearman, thrilling the crowd below, brought a glow to Jen’s face that Kate had never seen before. Kate could feel something was happening to Jen, it was just a matter of time before Jen let her in on the radiance that smoldered inside her.

My guess is you are about to tell me, Kate smiled. At times like this Kate let Jen do the talking. To Kate, Jen was an elf who danced with the angels all the time.

We can be Team Cousin. Jen laughed at the team name she had just thought up. She too had flashes of the dazzling fearlessness of the wing walkers, free on the wings and dancing to their own beat. The thought excited her sense of purpose. It is what I…we have trained to do. It is what we are meant to do. Arms outstretched, she twirled in a circle around Kate. It’s our destiny.

Are you crazy, cousin? Kate asked following Jen’s circular movements with her own, minus her arms out. We fly airplanes. You know, inside—cockpit—controls. We don’t get on the wings and walk around on them.

The eagle caught another thermal and, wings stretched to their fullest, rose again toward the setting sun. His silhouette radiated a fiery glow.

Jen stopped mid-twirl. Adrenaline pumped wildly inside her with the idea of being free outside the cockpit—flying arms stretched out like the eagle’s wings. Her eyes squinted in search for her feathered friend.

Ok, you fly—I’ll dance and sing on the wings, she said. Perhaps it is why I spent all those years in gymnastics.

Kate laughed. All those years dancing on the balance beam gave you a college scholarship.

That too, Jen smiled. But now college is yesterday. We’ve got today, tomorrow and forever ahead of us. Her enthusiasm spilled into her words. Now I can use the wing spar as my balance beam. She put one foot before the other like she was atop a balance beam.

Kate bumped Jen’s shoulder with a slight nudge. Jen played along and tumbled to the ground as if she had fallen off the imaginary beam.

Glad you were in the stands cheering me on all those years and not my spotter, Jen laughed.

Kate offered her hand to help Jen up but when Jen took it she pulled Kate down to the sand. The ebbing tide swirled around them and then flowed back to the sea. Sitting in the damp sand, they threw their heads back in laughter.

Catching her breath, Kate heaved a sigh. What am I to do with my ever-so-young cousin?

Jen’s lips formed an elf-like, devious smile and said nothing.

The eagle broke from the ocean’s air currents and flew directly at them. It briefly swooped closer and then, with one flap of its mighty wings, soared toward the setting sun.

Licet volare si in tergo aquilae volat, Jen said.

What?

Licet volare si in tergo aquilae volat, Jen repeated. That is what you told me the morning we headed out to get our private pilot’s licenses.

Kate smiled. A man can fly if he wishes, if he rides on the back of an eagle.

Jen jumped up. Come on, cousin. She pulled Kate up and jogged along the water’s edge. Kate followed closely, although she knew, if Jen wanted, she could outrun her. Within one hundred yards Jen slowed to a fast walk.

Kate caught up with her. They walked a few steps in silence. Sea air refreshed their lungs. Waves lapped at their bare feet. Wet sand squished between their toes. They were two friends becoming a moving silhouette against the sun as it dipped further into the blue Pacific water.

Kate knew there was no arguing with Jen. Cousins, they were each other’s best friend. Though they were born on the same day—Kate two hours ahead of Jen—they were as different as their mothers who were twin sisters. Jen, much like her mother—Colley Morgan Fillmore, was the adventurer, the one who took them to the edge of their personal envelope. Kate, like her mother—Chris Morgan Phillips, was the ponderer, the one who wanted to know every scenario before she ventured out. But in the end Kate usually gave into the scenarios Jen animatedly painted, not wanting to miss any voyage Jen wanted to hoist their sails and travel on.

A small heart-shaped rock caught Kate’s eye just as a wave wash over it. When the wave receded, the white rock had disappeared. So easy to miss something beautiful, Kate thought. A blink of an eye—a receding wave—it’s gone. She shook her head and smiled. Okay, cousin. We don’t want to miss your…uh…our destiny. Let’s go talk to the wing walkers.

And that day they went back to talk to women who walked the wings of airplanes and let freedom fly around them. Their life direction was changed forever.

So here Kate was, years later, at an air show, waiting to take to the flying stage, with Jen gracefully performing her elegant gymnastics high above the crowd. Their destiny? Maybe. But maybe it was so Jen could show Kate where elves and angels danced with the wind in their faces.

Screeeech!

Kate’s attention was brought back to the eagle above her.

With one long high pitched cry the eagle momentarily became a freeze frame, and then quickly swooped down in chase of a scurrying copper red field mouse. Before the mouse knew it had company, it was flying in the powerful golden talons of the eagle to a destination unknown.

Kate watched a little longer until the brown feathered wings and majestic white head disappeared into the blinding afternoon light. Be careful my feathered brother, but fly high—high and free.

Indeed! Fly high and free!

Jarred by the familiar voice, Kate propped up on one elbow to see Jen leaning on the Stearman’s wing beside her.

Beautiful eagle, Jen offered.

Yes, but poor field mouse, Kate reply.

Jen didn’t respond to what she knew was nature’s way. Kate was always the sensitive one, even to a field mouse. Are you ready to soar with that eagle?

You bet, Kate said jumping from the wing. She glanced once more to the blue sky where the eagle had disappeared. Soon they would join him in that high-spirited freedom.

I’ve checked the weather—CAVU—ceiling and visibility unlimited. Perfect. No wind. No clouds. Just a canopy of blue as the back drop for our sky dance.

Fantastic! Let’s do our walk through.

With that the two of them carefully choreographed each move they would make in their aerial performance. Every scenario was played out from the first fly-by to the final breathtaking stunt. Nothing was left to chance.

Chapter Two

Kate slipped her cell phone into the inside pocket of her leather flight jacket. Carefully tying her white silk scarf around her neck, she zipped the jacket up far enough to keep the scarf down, yet not so high as to hide the scarf from peeking over the top. At times she allowed the scarf to fly free but today Kate wanted all the attention to go to Jen. Today she wanted to be the tailored 1918 World War One pilot like her great grandfather, Joseph Morgan. Grabbing her 1920’s leather flight helmet, modified with a Boise headset, she settled into the back cockpit of the tandem Stearman airplane to assume the role as stage manager to Jen’s performance.

Jen climbed into the front cockpit and strapped herself tight into the seat. Without turning around she gave Kate a thumbs-up signal that she was ready.

Clear! Kate yelled just before the powerful 450-horsepower engine turned the propeller over and sent prop wash back at Jen.

Ahhh. Jen sank back into her seat and let the familiar breeze blow around her. Kate would take them to their stage in the sky.

Jen loved the freedom of the open cockpit of the Stearman. Warm air brushed her cheeks as she toyed with the golden heart-shaped locket around her neck. Kate had one just like it, except for the filigreed design on the outside. Woven inside the delicate tracery Kate’s had a K, Jen’s had a J. The lockets were given to them on their fifth birthday by their Grandmother Annie. Inside each locket was the same black and white picture of their Grandmother Annie and Grandfather Stewart. Both were in their World War Two army uniforms. Neither Kate nor Jen had taken the lockets off since that birthday.

Jen dropped the locket inside her jumpsuit and zipped it tighter around her neck. The corners of her mouth tuned upward as she thought how proud, or at least enthusiastic, Grandmother Annie and Grandfather Stewart would be of Kate and her flying and wing walking. It fit their family—always finding ways to create fun, adventure and the unexpected.

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The Stearman’s loud, distinctive sound winding up for takeoff brought Jen’s thoughts back to the air show. Eyes closed, she began visualizing her wing gymnastics. A shiver of excitement pulsed through her in anticipation.

Tugging to the left, the large radial engine plucked Kate and Jen from feet on the ground to freedom in the sky.

A few more minutes of solitude and then Jen heard Kate’s call, Jen, three-thousand AGL.

Three-thousand feet above ground level—Showtime. Time to leave the cockpit and fasten herself to the safety rack.

Kate began a lazy circle to give Jen time to prepare herself atop the wing. Once Jen was secure she would straighten out and begin their first fly-by.

Jen stepped on the seat and reached for the strut. Unprotected by the small cockpit windscreen, the wind blasted her back. Pulling hard, she lifted herself onto the wing and fastened the safety harness to her waist. Sometimes she wished she could be like the pioneers in wing walking—no safety rack, no safety harness—just her and the air around her.

Kate looked at the magnetic compass. One-eighty-three degrees. A quick glance below gave her the visual she needed. The air show crowd and the runway where they would do their aerobatic routine were about three-thousand feet ahead of them.

Jen glanced back at Kate and pointed at the crowd. Using her forefinger and thumb Jen indicated how small they looked. Kate put her right thumb on her nose and wiggled her two fingers, signing ants. It was their routine before they began a show.

Standing atop the Stearman’s wings, Jen nodded and gave Kate thumbs-up. She was ready to begin the show.

Chapter Three

Jen felt the airplane’s wing tilt slightly beneath her as Kate gently pulled the Stearman’s nose slightly up and then push the left wing down so they could wave to the crowd on their first pass-by. She smiled wide knowing there were young boys and girls in that crowd who would see their performance for the first time. Excitement filled her as she pictured the youthful reactions to the acrobats in the sky. Maybe one of them would feel the thrill and want to find out what it was like riding atop an airplane. Maybe that would be the one who would approach Kate and her after their performance and ask the question—how.

Kate nudged the airplane further left until they reached a twenty-five degree bank. Knowing Kate would hold it steady at twenty-five degrees on their first pass of the crowd, Jen raised her left arm to wave to the crowd coming up below them.

But the wing seemed to keep going over. The unexpected sensation of rolling uncontrollably to the left made Jen’s knees wobbly. Disorientation