Sacred Spaces

Sacred Spaces

Flora Winters

I do not own Smallville.

Summary: 500 years ago, the Star Lord descended from the sky and fell in love with the mother of the Kawatche people. The story is written in the earth and it is up to a descendent of the Star Lord to help Naman find his way. Clark will of course fall in love with a man (OC), yeah, duh, and there will be some strong language here and there when I feel the need to use it.

Prologue

The Kawatche caves are a magical place, at least, that is what Kyle Willowbrook’s grandfather was always telling him. There was a legend of the one who would come from the stars to save the world from a terrible darkness. It was the same bedtime story he had been told all his life in the firelight. As the years passed, the story became more and more real for him.

He came to believe in the story with his whole heart when his own magical powers began to manifest within him. It was a power that his people kept secret and caused them to revere him as an Avatar of the Star Lord.

“You are a most special child, Kyle.” His mother would tell him with deep love in her dark eyes. “You have the blood of the stars flowing through your veins.”

He had the magical power to summon the winds and the storms. When he was eleven years old, he had a small twister dance through the reservation, blowing tops off of roofs. It had been his grandfather who saw the dancing of the stars in his smoky gray eyes and the dancing of lightning in his veins.

He was then trained to keep his emotions under complete and total control through exercises and meditations. If his voice happened to get too loud, thunder would fill the sky. The people could only imagine what would happen if he was to scream in anger or fear. Once a month, his grandfather would take him out to the middle of nowhere, telling him to let all of his emotions out, and control the storms that followed.

“Am I human, Grandpa?” He would ask, having bolts of violet lightning strike boulders in the distance, melting, blasting them to bits.

“You are more, Dancing Storm,” the old man would tell him. “You are the protector of our people until the new Star Lord comes to claim you.”

“Will he come in a spinning chariot of fire?” He would find himself asking, smiling as he tried to picture the wonder in his mind. “Will he be surrounded by spinning stars of blinding light?”

“He came in fire the last time, my child,” his grandfather smiled. “The new Lord will come in even more glory.”

“When the meteor shower fell,” Kyle said. “Did you believe it to be him?’

His grandfather had nodded. “I believed it with all my heart. The wonder of it all had been spectacular. The ground shook under our feet.”

“Were you disappointed?” He asked.

“A little bit,” he had said. “But, I keep my faith. It was a sign, a herald of his coming.”

“What must I do?”

“You must stay in control of the gifts granted you,” he told him. “And protect our people and our beliefs from all harm that might come our way, Dancing Storm. You are the most blessed among the Kawatche.”

“The power is heavy, Grandpa,” he would often tell him. “The adults look at me and I can see the fear in their eyes, hiding behind the shadow of reverence. The other kids look at me funny because of my white hair and spooky eyes.”

“I know, my child,” he said. “But, you have the strength to carry this. The Star Lord saw to it. You are strong.”

He was kept secluded and shielded for most of his young life. The other children were not like him. The feared and treated him with deep respect, but, he could hear the mean whispers. When he would come out, they would bow their heads, and then flee like rabbits from a fox. His world was so very lonely.

Well, at least he did have his little sister. Her name was Sandra. She had been very beautiful. He still had the dream catcher she had made him. It was made like a spider’s web with solid white feathers hanging here and there with beaded meteor rock.

When she had been diagnosed with terminal bone cancer, his world had come crashing down around his ears. She had been his only friend. They had been so close.

She had been eleven and him fifteen on the day she died. She had just slipped away from the world in her dreams. It must have been a very happy dream, for she had not left it.

It had been the day the massive twister fell upon Smallville like the tears fell from his star filled eyes. The twister ravaged the town like raiders in the night. It had all been his fault. People got hurt because he had allowed himself to feel the pain of love and losing it. She had been his only friend in the world. She had been his only little sister.

“Don’t be sad for me, Stormy,” her little voice had told him the night before she slipped away. “You’ll come and dance with me in the stars someday.”

He opened his eyes, seeing the bulldozers and other machines of destruction that ate away at the beauty of the land before him. He would not allow them to destroy the sacred caves underneath.

A warm breeze blew through his snow white hair, causing the strands to billow like clouds as he looked up at the darkening sky. He could feel the mystical power of the stars bubbling up in his veins. He reached up, took hold of the lighting in his fist, and hurled it like a spear. Thunder followed with each strike that hit its intended target.

A smile crossed his fair face. There was some more money wasted. That would learn them all a lesson.

“Take that, Luthor,” he snickered, turning to walk away into the mist. “Waste all the money you like. You have billions of dollars, and I have billions of lightning bolts.”

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“Three more dozers destroyed?” Clark Kent asked in awe, looking at the yummy yellow eggs on his blue plate.

Martha Kent, his mother, put the bacon on the breakfast table before his drooling eyes. “What is it with the weather lately?”

Jonathan Kent, his father, grinned behind the newspaper that had delivered the terrible (awesome) news.

“It melted, fusing all the gears together,” she said, having Clark to get up and take the biscuits from the oven with his bare hands like a good son.

“I bet Lionel is hopping mad,” Jonathan chuckled, putting the paper down.

“You have no idea,” she told him. “This is the third time this month. The people are saying the ground is cursed and protected by a powerful spirit.”

“Who?” Clark asked, stuffing his face with eggs.

“The Kawatche,” she said, taking a seat herself. “Their sacred cave is under the construction site.”

Clark made a face. “That doesn’t seem right.”

She looked at him. “This will give the people of smallville a thousand new jobs. They need this to support their families, Clark.”

“I know,” he said, not feeling so hungry anymore. “But, that still doesn’t make it right.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” She asked.

He nodded and started to eat, only slower this time.

“Well,” Jonathan smiled, sipping his black coffee. “I like this spirit.”

“Oh, you would,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to out with Pete to ride dirt-bikes today,” Clark told them with a big grin on his face.

“Oh,” Jonathan said, remembering the good old days. “You be careful then.”

Clark nodded and was gone in a whoosh, leaving behind an empty plate and glass.

“Sometimes,” Jonathan said. “I wish I could eat and whoosh on out of here, too.”

Martha nodded.

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Clark pulled up beside Pete at the construction site to find that it didn’t take Lionel Luthor long to get new dozers to come in. It looked like money had a very powerful voice and when it spoke, people hopped to obey.

“Look at those over there,” Pete said, pointing.

Clark looked to see that it was a line of ruined dozers. The fronts were completely melted and scorched from a direct blast of lightning to the engines. Thunder echoed in the distance, causing both teens to look up. There was not a cloud in the sky. That was just odd.

“Maybe we should go,” Clark said, putting his helmet back on. “In case that spirit decides to wake up and do some more blasting.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?” Pete asked with a smirk. “It looks like something Chloe would write. This so has aliens written all over it.

Clark didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Pete chuckled.

A few minutes later, the two of them were racing through the woods. The trees were going by really fast. Well, not that fast, but still fast. Well, that was until a cute little bunny rabbit hopped out in front of Clark, causing him to swerve, and hit a boulder.

He was thrown off the bike headfirst, smacking into the ground, crashing through it. He felt the long fall, landing with a loud thud on his back. The wind had actually been knocked out of him, causing him to cough. He was covered in dirt and tiny rocks.

He looked up, feeling dizzy. Had he really fallen from that height? He hated heights.

He heard the sound of rocks falling from over it the corner and then there was a bright light being shown in his face. He looked to see that there was a young guy, no older than him, running over to him. He went down on his knees beside him.

“No,” he said, touching him. “Don’t move.”

“I’m fine,” Clark said, wanting to get to his feet.

“Don’t be stupid,” the guy said, cutting his shirt open with a long blade that seemed to magically appear from out of nowhere. “You just fell over a hundred feet.”

Clark watched with green eyes and felt those hands touch and feel his ribs, pressing in on his muscles.

“I’m fine,” he said again.

Eyes the color of smoky quartz crystals looked over his unbroken flesh. “There is not a scratch on you. Move your legs for me.”

Clark did so. He felt silly.

The guy sat back on his heels with a look of astonishment clearly painted all over his lovely face. It made Clark feel really nervous.

“Amazing,” he said, looking up at the hole. “There is not a single mark on you.”

“I’m just lucky,” Clark said, letting the man help him to his feet. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Kyle,” he said, holding out a hand, for Clark to shake.

“I’m Clark,” he said, taking his hand with his, feeling a tingling spark on contact. “Clark Kent.”

“Clark!” A voice shouted down from above in concern, causing them both to let go of each other’s hand. “Are you all right?”

Clark looked up, putting his hand in his jean pocket. “I’m fine Pete!”

“Awesome!” He laughed. “Being an alien must be so cool. Can you find your way out or are you going to jump up?”

Clark coughed, laughing nervously. “I’m not alone down here, Pete!”

Pete went silent.

“He watches too many movies and plays way too many videogames,” Clark told him. “He loves to role play, too.”

Kyle nodded, looking at his hand. “I see.”

“I had no idea these caves went on like this,” Clark said, looking around, feeling vulnerable. His shirt had been cut open and Pete had almost blown his secret.

“They won’t for very much longer,” Kyle said, forgetting his hand, shining the light around. “They’ll be destroyed if Luthor has his way.”

Clark made a face as he took in Kyle’s physical appearance in the light. His skin was like smooth amber honey. He noticed his hair was long, straight, and white as passing clouds in the sky. It was his eyes that really caught his attention. They were like looking into twin stars.

“As long as you’re all right,” Pete called down. “Who is down there with you? How are you going to get out of there?”

“Oh, my, gosh,” Kyle said, shining his light on the wall behind Clark’s head.

“What?” Clark asked, spinning around, seeing paintings on the walls.

“I’ve found you,” Kyle smiled, running by Clark to the wall. “This is the legend of Naman. My people have passed this story down for hundreds of years. They said it had been written in the earth long ago…but nobody ever knew where it was…until now.”

Clark looked at the beautiful paintings. They were really cool. They looked so old.

“Thank you,” Kyle said, turning to look at him. “This is just…amazing.”

Clark nodded. All he did was fall down the rabbit hole. Only him. “No problem.”

“You don’t get it,” Kyle said, grinning. “My grandfather has been searching for these paintings his whole life.”

“Wow,” Clark said.

“It was said long ago that the great Naman would fall from the sky in a rain of fire, riding in a chariot of silver fire.” Kyle said, shining the light on the image of Naman. “He will have the strength of ten men and can shoot beams of fire from his eyes.”

Clark could not take his eyes off the image. He was holding ten men over his head and shooting fire from his eyes.

“All of this sounds really silly, huh?” Kyle laughed.

Clark shook his head, not blinking once. “Not to me.”

“I have to tell my grandfather,” Kyle laughed. He was so happy. This would make his grandfather so happy. He wished his little sister was here to see this. “He will be so pleased.”

Clark looked at him.

“Come on,” he said, shining his light in the opposite direction. “I’ll be your light in the darkness, Clark Kent.”

Clark nodded, suddenly seeing something that shook him. There was an octagonal hole in the wall of the cave, surrounded by intricate circles with lots of symbols. It looked just like the perfect place for a certain key of his to fit. He honestly didn’t know what to think.

“Clark!” Pete yelled from above. “Did you hear me?”

“No!” Clark said, following after Kyle. “I’ll find you once I get out of here!”

He could hear Pete roll his eyes.

TBC…

Please review and tell me what you think.

Note: Kyle, I assume, is the male version of Storm from X-Men, only he’s Native American. I’m not sure if he’s going to be meteor infected or not. It might just have something to do with the blood that’s flowing through his veins.

Flora.