As dusk descended in the river valley, they floated on, listening to the chirping of night insects and the croaking of bullfrogs until they came upon a sandbar stretched into the river. They pulled ashore and made camp.
At the river’s edge, Deke crouched to fill his waterskin.
“Manu-amatu warned us not to drink from the river,” Kiran said. “Only the side streams, remember?”
“The Script said to ‘Drink of it and be merry.’ Did it not?”
“Yes, but I—”
“You what?” He rose to face Kiran. “You can read the actual words of the Great Father, yet you listen to a savage.” Deke tipped up his waterskin, gulped down a swallow, then wiped water from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Kiran winced. He closed his eyes, struggling to take control of his anger.
Kail came along side Deke. “I don’t understand.”
Bria stood beside Kiran, hands on her hips. “The Script doesn’t say we must drink from the river. We should be cautious and fill up the waterskins at every side stream.”
Deke looked at Kiran, then back to Bria. “Go ahead and follow the heathen,” he snarled. “I’ll follow the Way.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Kiran frowned.
Under the gibbous moon, they settled in their bedrolls. Kiran lay awake, listening to the rush of the river against the rocky shore. Maybe Deke did not believe in the wisdom of Manu-amatu, but Kiran vowed: he would not take one sip from that river.
As the days passed, the rhythm of life on the raft lulled them into a quiet complacency. They slipped into a steady routine: rise at daybreak, launch the raft, float down the river until nightfall, set up camp, then rise in the morning to do it again. The landscape passed by in an ever-changing display. Short, thick bushes gave way to cedars and white birches. Hardwoods and evergreens sprawled across the hillsides. Small furry animals appeared and disappeared through long stretches of calm water.
Early one morning, Kiran was staring into the band of foam the raft left on the dark smooth water when a furry critter with big brown eyes and large teeth appeared swimming alongside the raft, cutting a V in the glossy surface of the water. In one swift movement, Roh thrust his spear through the back of its neck and flipped it onto the raft. The animal wriggled and flopped and, without hesitation, Roh jabbed again, striking the final blow. It lay limp.
“Oh my!” cried Kail, turning away.
“Nice shot, Roh,” said Jandon.
“Let’s pull ashore,” said Kiran. “We’ll get a fire going.”
They hauled out onto a sandy beach strewn with pebbles. Bria suggested they unload the raft and set up camp. “There is quite a bit of meat on this animal. We’ll need a couple days to preserve the hide,” she said.
“It’s morning and we’ve just set out,” Deke grumbled, “Don’t bother. We’ve seen these animals all along the shoreline. There are plenty.”
“That doesn’t mean we should just waste it!”
“Don’t tell me those savages put ideas in your head, too. We need to keep moving, not waste time with that.”
Roh intervened. “We have to travel lightly. We’ll eat our fill and leave what’s left.” He gestured toward a vulture circling in the sky. “It won’t go to waste.”
Bria set her jaw and squared her shoulders in defiance. She looked to Deke, then back to Roh, anger in her eyes. Then she grabbed the dead animal by its feet, flipped it over on its back with a thump, and ripped it open with her knife.
Jandon and Kail got a fire going. Bria skewered the meat and propped it over the flames. The fire sputtered and hissed as the sizzling fat fell in juicy droplets on the burning coals. Kiran couldn’t keep his mouth from watering.
The days melded into one another as they traveled on, day after day, following the sun, camping night after night under a waxing moon. The view from the river passed by in a blur of green and brown. Gradually, the banks grew higher and rockier, the vegetation more sparse.
One late afternoon, they came around a sharp bend and the riverbank changed abruptly. Sheer rock reared up out of the river on both sides, towering toward the sky, closing them in. The pace of the current quickened and the raft bucked and shifted, rocking through curls of white water, tossing them about. Deke grabbed onto the raft, his muscles taut. “Don’t rock it!” he hollered.
“We’re not,” said Kiran. “It’s the river. Look at me.” He was standing upright, pole in hand, bending his knees, flexing with the movement of the raft. “Make your body loose, like this. Just go with it.”
Deke scowled and looked away, gripping the roping, his body rigid as they rode the funnel of water through the gorge.
As the channel narrowed, constricting the flow of the river, all its pent-up power surged forth, carrying them forward with increased speed. Kiran whooped with joy, elated to be moving at such a brisk pace.
“Just think if we had to cover this distance on foot,” Bria said with an enthusiastic whoop as the rock face went whirring past.
Around the next bend, the river slowed again widening into a round pool. The rock walls encircled the river, vertical and smooth, as if the Torans floated at the bottom of a giant bucket. “Look at that,” said Bria, pointing upward. Layers of rock, pink and orange and brown, made striped patterns. “Like a rainbow!”
The muffled whisper of bubbles and gurgling whirlpools reverberated off the rock walls. Bria’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Hellloooooooo!” she shouted, grinning.
“Hellloooooooo!” came back to them.
Kail giggled, giddy with silliness. The boys joined in the merriment, even Deke, whooping and shouting to hear their own voices echo back to them. Bria laughed, a big belly laugh bursting with uninhibited exuberance. Kiran smiled wide. He loved her. Maybe she wouldn’t marry him, or even kiss him again. But he loved her. He could go anywhere, endure anything, as long as she was with him.
Bria started to sing a lively children’s song and Kiran and the others joined in:
“Come follow me,
Wherever I shall go,
Come follow me,
To where I do not know.”
The melody repeated, whispering across the chasm, as though a choir of celestial beings had descended from above to escort them on their way.
Distant and faint, there was a sound Kiran did not recognize, like the low rumble of thunder. But the skies were blue. The thunder grew louder and louder as they passed out of the chamber. Suddenly, the river turned turbulent and angry. Water gushed and roared, smashing against rocks in a fury of white foam. Before they could react, the current propelled them forward with a whoosh into the churning maelstrom.
The raft bucked and tilted, careening toward exposed rocks. Kiran and Roh pushed against the boulders with the poles. But it was no use. Everything was happening too fast and they were impotent against the strong current. The raft spun sideways and slid down a giant wave. Kail screamed. Roh and Kiran dropped to their knees and shoved the poles under the roping.
“Hold on,” Kiran shouted. “Everybody hold on!”
“What the blazes have you gotten us into!” hollered Deke, his face gone pale.
The raft rammed against a rock. The corner lifted and the raft rode up the side of the boulder at an angle, knocking them off balance. It held there, in the grip of the surging river, the logs twisting against the ropes, threatening to snap apart. Water rushed past on all sides, roaring like thunder. “Knock it loose!” yelled Roh. Kiran grabbed the edge and shifted his weight to the far corner. The backside of the raft caught in the current and spun, whipping around, flinging them back into the roiling chaos.
Just as the raft leveled, they slid into a white hole of whirling water. The raft jerked and spun in the vortex of white. Water pounded in from all directions. They scrambled to stay on top as waves of water swept over the raft, pummeling them with surge after surge.
Finally, the raft spun out of the hole, crashing into a wall of water. Bria lost he
r grip and bounced to the edge of the raft. Kiran flung himself toward her, reaching, but the force of the water slammed his hand away as she disappeared into the frothy abyss. “Bria!” he screamed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He searched the angry water for sign of her as the raft spun round and round. Then, right in front of the raft, she shot up, gasping for breath. Boom—the raft crashed into her, slamming her under water again. She popped up on the side of the raft, stunned, but managed to grab hold and hang on. Kiran lunged for her, his arm outstretched. Water rushed past, the powerful river tugging at her as they careened through the rapids, her fingers slipping inch by inch. With a burst of strength, she jerked upward, trying to hurl herself on top of the raft, but she lost her hold, and was gone again, under the swirling waves.
The raft rocked sideways and another giant wave slammed over them, washing Kiran overboard. In an instant, he was sucked down, under the churning water, kicking and flailing his arms. Tumbling and swirling, powerless against the force of the current, his mouth full of water, he lost all sense of orientation. He opened his eyes but all he could see was white. His lungs burned. Then, at last, his head broke water and he gasped some air, only to be tumbled into a swirling eddy. He thrashed against the current, pulling, rising, falling, swirling. Then he felt hands groping for him and Roh was hauling him back onto the raft.
He heaved and coughed, blowing water out his nose. “Bria! Where’s Bria?” he shouted, his head jerking, searching the river for her.
“There!” Jandon yelled, pointing. Bria was bobbing in the choppy waves, fighting to stay afloat.
“Use the pole!” Kiran yelled to Jandon.
Jandon slid the pole from the roping and swung it out toward Bria. She grabbed hold with both hands and held tight as they rocked through the rapids.
Hand over hand down the pole, Jandon pulled Bria to the raft. He grabbed her under the arms and hauled her aboard. She fell on top of him, heaving and shaking. Jandon put his arms around her, holding her close to calm her. “You’re all right. I’ve got you,” he told her.
Kiran collapsed, closing his eyes. At least she was safely aboard. The raft slowed in a stretch of riffles, then the water flattened, and the rocking and spinning finally stopped.
Kiran lifted his head and looked back up river at the maelstrom. Manu-amatu had warned of the face of the waters. Kiran hadn’t really known what that meant. Now, he knew the full force of Her fury. From now on, they would be at Her mercy.
Downriver, they came upon a sandy, boulder-strewn spit, jutting out under a sheer rock face, with barely enough room to pull out. Scruffy, dry bushes grew from cracks at the base of the rock face, the first vegetation they’d seen in days. They dragged the hefty raft out of the water and unloaded their packs. There was no room to pitch the tent, so they stuck the poles between the logs of the raft and stretched the tent hide to keep it from shrinking as it dried. They hung their wet clothing in the bushes to dry in the sun.
“Some of our food baskets have filled with water,” Bria groaned.
Roh inspected the raft, tightening every rope, checking to be sure the logs were secure. Deke stood over him, chewing a fingernail, watching every tug and pull.
Kiran came along side them. “I fear the river will anger again.”
Roh looked up river, then down. The river was an endless stretch of white foam. He said nothing.
“I knew it. I knew it. Mark my words,” Deke wagged his finger at Kiran. “This is all your fault. The Great Father is punishing us for consorting with savages.”
Kiran leaned forward. “Those savages saved your life! Or have you forgotten that?”
“You let them lead you astray. I told you! I warned you! For this, you will pay. A simple penance will not do.” His face was turning red as he worked himself into a fury. “Doubt is the greatest sin, Kiran. You dared to question the Truth!”
Kiran clenched his fists. “Manu-amatu warned us not to drink from the river. But you wouldn’t listen. This is your fault.”
“My fault?” He turned to make a show to the others. “Look who is making accusations. The heathen bastard.”
Kiran lunged at him, hitting with his fists. They toppled over the edge of the raft and into the sand. Kiran was on top. He had Deke pinned, his left elbow pressed into Deke’s throat, punching him in the stomach with his fist. Then Roh had ahold of Kiran’s arms, pulling him away. Deke lay on his side in the sand, gasping for air, his left eye red and puffy.
An awkward silence settled on the group. The girls busied themselves building a fire. Jandon tossed a line in the river, trying to hook a fish.
Kiran wished he could go for a walk and think, but there was nowhere to go. He sat with his back to the others, facing the river, staring into the waves. He picked up a stick of driftwood, tossed it into the current, and watched it bob and twist in the froth, ricocheting off rocks as the water pushed it in countless directions.
He picked up a rough stone and rolled it over in his hand. Maybe Deke was right. He had strayed from the Way. Learning from the Lendhi was one thing, but to question the Truth, that was a sin. All his dreaming about the magic staff had brought nothing but trouble. He slipped the rock into his pocket and looked to the sky. I’m just trying to understand. Have I really sinned? A gust of dry wind blew through camp, stirring the sand, and the fire flared with a loud whoosh. The tent hide billowed and rattled against the poles. Kiran shuddered. It’s just a breeze, he told himself.
The wind picked up and another gust howled through the canyon, the air so thick with swirling sand they had to cover their heads to breathe. The others gave up their work and crawled into their bedrolls.
The girls had spread their belongings out on the few rocks to dry. Strips of meat were hanging on the tiny branches of the bushes. Kiran got up to get his blanket. It was already bone dry. He curled up under it and covered his head. It was going to be a long night.
The wind blew non-stop through the night. When dawn finally came, Kiran awoke to find himself half buried in a pile of sand. He shook the gritty particles from his hair and wiped his face. His eyes itched.
Jandon emerged from the pile next to him blinking and spitting sand from his tongue. “This is just great,” he spat. He got up, took a few steps, and hollered, “Ouch! Hot coals! Hot coals!” He hopped backward on one foot and tripped over Kiran, spraying sand and coals into the air. In a flash, the dry, brittle bushes were crackling with roaring flames.
“Fire! Fire! Get on the raft!” he heard someone shouting. Kiran’s blanket was on fire, burning his feet. There was nowhere to go but into the water. He scrambled from his bed, gathering what he could in his hands, and plowed into the river. Bria ran into him, full force, trying to get away from the fire. She stumbled and fell onto the raft.
In a blur, they were all on the raft and back on the river, helplessly bobbing in the waves, scrambling to keep hold of their belongings. The poles stuck straight up, swaying back and forth with the creaking of the logs. The tent hide blew off, into the river, and was lost in the rapids.
“Is everyone all right?” Kiran asked as a wave splashed over the side and sprayed his face. He quickly checked: Bria, Roh, Kail, Jandon, Deke. They were all on the raft.
Kail screamed, “Go back, go back! We have to go back.”
“What’s wrong?” Bria asked.
“My pack. My things,” she sobbed. “I don’t have my things.”
Kiran quickly counted. Kail’s pack was missing. The clothes they had hung in the bushes were gone, too.
“Oh no! The food!” cried Bria. “We unloaded the baskets of food to dry.” Kiran looked back up river. They were already around a bend and being swept away by the powerful current. There was no going back.
Chapter 15
The face of the water churned in a roiling froth of white. Walls of dark vertical rock hemmed them in on both sides. There was no place to pull ashore, nowhere to land, nothing to do but hold on and hope.
The river widened once more
and the canyon walls swept upward and outward, taking all shade with them. The unrelenting sun blazed down out of a sky empty of clouds. Kiran dangled his feet in the cool water until they were white and wrinkled. His hair felt like straw and he squirmed in scratchy, gritty pants. He tried to look brave, but inside he was tied up in knots. Jandon sat beside him, his best friend since they were kids, but his presence gave little solace. A space had grown between them that Kiran wasn’t sure how to close. Or if he wanted to.
Kail sat cross-legged, biting her nails, her skin pink and blistered from the sun. Bria seemed resolute, determined to stay strong, but her hair had lost its luster and hung around her face in a tangled mess. Only Roh seemed undaunted by it all.
Bria dropped a hook and line in the water.
“It’s no use,” Jandon said. “There are no fish in this river.”
“We have to try,” she snapped.
He threw his hands in the air.
Roh and Kail had assessed the pouches and reported that, indeed, they had no food. They had only three waterskins among them, and two were empty. They had to find water. Soon.
Kiran scanned the barren rocky landscape with a shudder of hopelessness. It had been days since they had seen a side stream. There were no signs of wild animals, save for one black bird soaring along the ridge. The assumption that they would simply hunt for fresh meat had long since vanished. They did spot occasional hoofed beasts with big, curled horns, but they would flee up the precipice without hesitation at the slightest movement, their agility defying reason.
The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy) Page 13
