The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

  Roh shrugged. “He fits the mold.”

  “I don’t know. He is bound to be an Elder. It makes sense that it would be him. It’s just that he is such a—”

  “A tyrant.”

  “Well, yeah.” Kiran smiled. “He can really be a thorn in my side. But I’m still worried about him and the others out in the storm.”

  “What is meant to be, will be,” said Roh. “We are all in the hands of the Great Father.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” There was a lull in the rain. Kiran stared off into the darkness. “Who do you think made those drawings?”

  “Don’t know. But I have been wondering who stacked the firewood.”

  Then he saw it. In the distance, near the edge of the swamp. “Roh, look. A campfire.”

  “It’s the Javinians,” Roh said without looking up. “They’ve been there all night.” He rose to his feet and examined the pointed end of his stick. Then he held it at its midpoint, testing its weight and balance. “I was just thinking I’d go see about it when you sat down.”

  “What? By yourself?” Kiran jumped to his feet.

  “Stay with Bria. And get some sleep.”

  “Sleep? Right. What are you planning to do?”

  Roh lifted his pack. “Don’t stoke the fire. If I’m not back by daybreak, leave without me. Stay out of the open; you’re safer among the trees.”

  Then he was gone.

  “This can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself. He sat down next to Bria and closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. They were alone—all alone.

  He needed a weapon.

  He selected a solid branch from the pile, held it in his hand, just as he’d seen Roh do to check the balance, and decided it would suffice. With his knife, he quickly shaved the end to a point. It would have to do.

  He wanted to pray with Bria again. But he didn’t want to wake her. She needed the sleep and dawn would come soon enough.

  He leaned the spear against the wall, sat down, leaned back against the cold rock wall, and held the scroll cradled in his trembling hands. Is this the only reason I’m here? To be the scribe?

  Chapter 8

  When the sky hinted of dawn, Roh had not returned. The rain had stopped. Bria calmly accepted the news. They gathered their things and set out.

  Kiran followed Bria as she crept along the rocky ledge, back into the thick woods—pungent red cedars and white birches, soft tamaracks and sugar maples. The forest was still, as if hushed by their presence. They took care not to leave a trace of their passing as they made their way through the undergrowth of berry bushes and ferns.

  Soon, they were climbing upward again and the soft earth turned rocky. Bria moved with confidence, unintimidated by the uneven terrain, her walking staff all the support she needed. Kiran fought to keep pace with her, embarrassed that he could not match her stamina.

  Amid patches of fluffy lichens and beds of rich green mosses, they found a stream flowing with fresh rainwater and stopped to fill their waterskins.

  “What did Deke mean back there when he said you aren’t a Toran?” Bria asked.

  Kiran hung his head. “I’m an orphan. I have no standing in the Temple because of the question of my birth.”

  “I know. But why should that matter?”

  “That’s what I think!” he shouted, exploding with frustration. “I just want to be allowed to attend the Lessons.”

  She glanced back the way they had come. “We should keep moving,” she whispered. He nodded, feeling like a fool for his outburst.

  They followed the streambed upward, carefully negotiating the slippery rocks and exposed tree roots, keeping to the shade when they could, but the higher they climbed, the scarcer the vegetation became, until they found themselves amid a stand of stunted, knotty pines no taller than themselves. Twisted and racked by the wind, their trunks bent like decrepit old men, their gnarled roots spread across barren, smooth rock.

  “I thought you said Aldwyn taught you,” she said, trying to understand.

  “Well, yes. But he didn’t teach me the Lessons, well, not exactly. He challenges me. It’s hard to explain.” He shook his head, frowning. How could he explain his life to her? “It’s not the same. Aldwyn speaks in riddles.”

  They emerged on the bald, round top of the mountain. Kiran stopped to catch his breath and look back the way they had come. Sunshine skimmed across the treetops.

  A few more steps and they were at the summit. The far side of the mountain dropped away sharply. The land beyond stretched as far as the eye could see, clear to the very edge, where green melted into blue and became sky, so boundless, it surely held all of the Celestial Kingdom.

  “Look at that,” Bria gaped. “Not a single tree. Isn’t it beautiful? Just breathtaking. I’m tired and my bones ache, but I’ve never felt more alive. Things are always better after a storm, don’t you think? Everything is going to be all right. I know it will. The Great Father watches over us. We will endure. He will keep us from harm.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I just know He will,” she repeated, then let go of his hand.

  It did feel like the kind of morning when everything seemed fresh and new and worries just faded away. It was easy to forget all their troubles. After all, he had just spent the night alone with her. If he had sneaked out into the hills and spent a night with her back home, they’d both be banished. But out here, far away from the village, away from the rules and restrictions, he felt freer than he ever had.

  He had the sudden urge to kiss her.

  He took her hand in his. She stopped and turned to face him, her eyes bright, expectant. His breath caught in his throat. What if she didn’t kiss him back? Or what if she got angry and slapped him? His hand went clammy. “Uh…you’re right. Everything is going to be all right.”

  She smiled. He let go of her hand. Then breathed again.

  She shifted her pack and walked onward. When he didn’t follow, she turned back. “What is it?”

  He gripped the makeshift spear in his hand. “Roh said to stay in the woods.”

  “Well, that is the direction of the setting sun, so that is the way we must go.”

  “But we’re vulnerable out in the open.”

  “At least no one will be able to sneak up on us,” she said. “It is so flat, once we walk a ways, you’ll be able to keep a clear eye out in every direction.”

  He glanced back the way they had come, unsure.

  “Listen. Roh can take care of himself. We’ll find Deke and the others. He’ll catch up.”

  Kiran nodded.

  The decline was so steep, they had to climb down single file. It took them until past noon before they reached the base of the mountain. With the wind in their faces and the hot sun on their backs, they set out across the flatlands, picking their way among clumps of grasses to avoid puddles of water that had collected where the dry, hardened ground could not absorb it fast enough. Eventually, they passed into an area where there had been no rain. The soil became even and dry and they were able to walk side by side at a good pace. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his damp clothing stuck to his skin.

  “What did you mean by ‘the question of your birth’?” she asked.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know. I was a baby, just weaned, when Aldwyn found—” As soon as the word came out of his mouth he regretted it. He kicked a clump of dirt. It skittered off and burst into a pile of dust.

  “What do you mean? Found you?”

  Kiran wanted to tell her the whole story. But what would she think of him? So many times he had told himself that his family history didn’t matter. He was who he was, whatever his lineage. But it seemed to matter to everyone else. He stared off into the distance. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon. The air suddenly had a peculiar oppressiveness.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand.”

  “It’s all right,” he told her, deciding right then that he would. “Aldwyn told everyone that a villa
ge woman had come to him, ashamed, when he was walking back from his time of atonement at the Sanctuary on the Mount. She had hidden her pregnancy and begged him to take me. But it’s not the truth.” He took a deep breath and went on. “The truth is… You see…” He took another breath. “He didn’t recognize the woman. He thinks she may, well, she must have been…a Javinian.”

  He held his breath as he searched her face, desperate to know what she was thinking. But she showed no reaction. He turned away, crestfallen.

  “So, that’s what Deke meant,” she said flatly.

  He nodded.

  “He must know. About the Javinian. It’s obvious, the way he torments you.”

  “Torments me? Deke doesn’t…” He bit his lip. “I don’t know how he could…know…”

  They came upon a rocky knoll, a bump in the flat terrain, washed clean of soil by the wind save for a few tenacious grasses that held on in the crevices, their long, slender leaves bending in the wind. At the base, depressions pocked the ground—holes where large animals had lain. Kiran scanned the horizon, wondering where they had gone. In the sky in front of them, ominous clouds hovered like towering mountains. The tall grasses swayed in bursts of golden waves, undulating across the great meadow, and the pungent odor of freshly turned earth filled the air.

  Bria stopped for a rest and offered her waterskin. “You don’t remember your mother?” she asked.

  “Not really. I remember feelings, fleeting images. Nothing else. It is as if my mind has forgotten, but my heart remembers.”

  Bria turned to face him, her eyes filled with genuine sympathy. She reached for him and her fingers brushed his cheek for a moment. Then her hand rested on his shoulder. “That’s really sad. I’m so sorry, Kiran,” she said so softly the words were almost lost in the wind.

  “Oh, I’m fine. It’s not a big thing, really.” He pulled away. “You know, I envy you. You know who you are. It’s like you aren’t afraid of anything. I wish I could be like that.”

  She laughed. “I don’t know about all that. I’ll tell you something about myself that no one else knows. A secret.”

  His heart skipped a beat. She seemed vulnerable, standing here now, in front of him, willing to share, giving a part of herself to him. He wanted to know everything about her, every secret.

  “No matter what,” she said, “I will never get married.” She stared, waiting for a reaction, her eyes so intense he had to look away.

  Never get married, but…You can’t really mean that! Was it because she wanted to be an Elder? But Elders could marry, after they made their vows. Or was she afraid of something? Is she afraid of me, he wondered. Was she just trying to tell him to leave her alone? Had he been too forward? Had he made her feel uncomfortable?

  They walked on for a time without speaking. The wind grew stronger and suddenly a gust hit them with such force they were nearly knocked over. “My, it’s really windy here,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. A strange dark cloud had formed on the horizon in an odd shape, like an anvil. Bright bolts of lightning shot from it and struck the ground.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he told Bria. Within moments, it was dark as night and the wall of clouds came bearing down on them. Rain fell in sheets, turning the parched ground to mud, and within seconds they were in an absolute downpour. Raindrops pelted their faces as gusts of wind swept along the ground in horizontal bursts, whipping the grasses into frenzied swirls. They tried to run, but the wind was too strong and the mud too slippery. They were out in the open. There was nowhere to hide.

  The rain turned to hail. Chunks of ice the size of chestnuts fell from the sky, pummeling them. They covered their heads with their arms and turned their backs to the wind as it ripped across the ground, battering them in savage gusts. They had to find shelter. Lightning flashed and, as if guided by the Great Father, he saw another knoll ahead. He took Bria by the hand and ran into the wind to the refuge of the lee side. “Lie down flat on the ground, and keep your head down,” Kiran shouted. He crouched over her as rocks of ice plunked at his backpack.

  The wind howled and rumbled across the flatlands. When finally the hail stopped, Kiran lifted himself up on his hands, then to his feet, to see what he could. It was dark as night save for the eerie, pulsing blue-grey glow of the turbulent sky. A ring of clouds hovered close to the ground on the horizon, rapidly circulating. Hanging on the fringes of the dark, greenish base of the ring were what looked like twines of rope come alive, possessed by demons, twisting wildly in the wind. The coiled devils were spawned from the center, spinning out in all directions amid squalls of rain, hissing and squealing as they broke away from the core.

  From the main cloud, directly under the dark, churning mass, one gigantic towering funnel of dust burst out of the chaos, rotating violently, ripping up grass and dirt and rocks as it came toward them, twisting and contorting in an erratic pattern, its thunderous howl right out of a nightmare.

  Before Kiran could react, it was upon them. The specter grabbed him, sucked him from the ground and slammed him back down again several yards from Bria, knocking the breath out of him. Spots danced before his eyes and he gasped for air. She scrambled toward him on her belly, dirt and sand swirling around her. She said something, but it was lost in the deafening roar of the storm.

  Then it stopped.

  Everything went still as death. All he could hear was the sound of his heart pumping in his chest. The air felt so thick it was difficult to breathe. Kiran rolled on his back and looked up. A cold terror came over him. Directly above, the monster twisted and churned, a dark hollow column of rotating fury. Lightning shot across the mouth and higher up, inside its belly, white bolts zigzagged from side to side, illuminating the entire shaft in blinding flashes. Kiran stared into the dark vortex. What kind of evil is this?

  Around the rim, the screaming continued as more and more demons spawned from the main one, writhing as they formed, then hissing as they broke away. All the while, the monster pulsed up and down.

  Then, the roaring howl started again. The wind roiled around him in a demonic maelstrom, dust blasting his eyes with such force it burned. He buried his head in his folded arms and endured the whirlwind. Finally the ground-shaking rumble diminished and all he could hear was hissing. It was over.

  Bria was shaking uncontrollably. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around her, trying not to shake himself. “What kind of demon was that?” she cried.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.”

  It was a long time before they dared to move from the shelter of the knoll. Kiran was still shaking, in spite of his resolve, and he feared he might lose control. Nothing had prepared him for the sheer terror of the wind demon.

  The sun was shining again in the west. The sky was clear and bright blue. The demon had scattered the clouds, and the wind died down to a gentle breeze. As if nothing had happened.

  To the east, a brilliant, iridescent rainbow appeared against the dark sky. “Look at that,” he told Bria. “The blessing of the Father.”

  The sight brought a smile to her face. “That means all is well at home.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, coughing. His nose and throat were filled with dust. He put his waterskin to his mouth, tipped it up, but it was empty. He swallowed against the dryness.

  Soon, the sun dropped below the horizon and he and Bria surrendered to the safety of the knoll for the night. They shared the last of her water and ate little, their appetites gone. The breeze continued to blow across the plains, dry and filled with dust, and did not let up as darkness fell. Too frightened to sleep, they lay awake staring up at the stars and listening to the wind rustling through the grasses, waiting for dawn, his arms around her. An inkling of guilt crossed his mind; their behavior was improper, but he didn’t care. He was too scared to let go of her and she didn’t seem to mind. He closed his eyes and savored the warmth of her body nex
t to his. Sometime in the night, they drifted into a restless sleep.

  They awoke to the sound of thunder.

  “The demon is back!” Bria cried.

  Kiran got to his knees and looked out over the grassland. “But the sky is clear,” he said. “I don’t see anything.”

  The rumble grew louder. “It’s coming toward us!” She curled up into the crevice that was their hiding place.

  He stood up and saw a billowing cloud of dust above the ground. Right before his eyes, a herd of beasts, at least a hundred strong, each ten times the size of a sheep, emerged from out of the ground, thundering toward them, a massive chaos of black and brown fur. “Get down, get down!” he yelled, dropping to his knees.

  Bria covered her head with her hands. Kiran shielded her with his body as the beasts bore down on them in a fury. The ground shook with the pounding of hooves, as the animals stormed past them on all sides. Then, they were gone. Kiran squinted and coughed, choked by the swirling dust.

  Kiran rolled off of her and she burst into tears. Strong, willful Bria had crumbled. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to cry himself. He had no idea how to fight these demons. How would they ever make it to the other side of the world?

  “Hey,” he said, touching her shoulder.

  She looked up at him, her green eyes shiny. Tiny rivulets rolled down her dusty cheeks leaving dark, muddy streaks. Her hair was a tangled mess.

  Kiran wiped the tears from her face and took her in his arms. “Everything will be all right,” he said. He needed to hear it too, even though the words were coming from his own mouth. Maybe she would never marry him, but he loved her, and he’d do anything to protect her. He held her tight.

  After awhile, she seemed to relax. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Thank you. I just needed a moment. I’m all right.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.

  Kiran’s face flushed red. He felt dizzy and started to tremble. His hand went to the spot on his cheek where her lips had been.