The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

  He realized now how naïve he’d been. His stomach lurched and his hands began to shake. Bria had been wise, wanting to keep every morsel of the animal Roh had speared. He had thought the food they carried would be enough. But enough to get them where?

  Maybe Deke had been right. After all, he was meant to be the leader. He did have those sacred stones. Kiran shook his head watching Deke now, gripping the raft with both hands, every muscle stretched taut. Kiran hated him for his arrogance, for drinking from the river after Manu-amatu had warned against it. But Deke followed the Script to the letter. That’s what a good Toran does. Kiran bit his lip. No. They were to take to the river. He was sure of it.

  Bria looked at Deke and her eyes narrowed. “I told you we should have preserved that meat. You said there would be animals everywhere. Well, where are they? Huh, where are they?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered since you left the baskets anyway!”

  “Me! Since when is the food my responsibility?”

  “Since you are a girl!”

  Kiran grabbed his arm. “Listen, if you want to start laying blame—”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Kail screamed, her face red with fury.

  “Kail’s right,” said Roh. “Arguing won’t help. It was everyone’s responsibility. We all ran in a panic from the fire. There’s no one to blame.”

  “Well, it’s certainly not me,” Deke huffed, turning his back on them. “I never wanted to get on this river in the first place. The Script did not say to ride on it. ‘Drink of it and be merry.’ That’s what it said.” He flicked his hand westward. “Now, we’re no longer headed toward the setting sun.”

  “But that must be what was meant,” said Kiran, exhaustion setting in.

  Deke spun around, his eyes wide. “Meant? Are you an Elder now? The Script did not say to ride on the river. And you don’t interpret. You don’t guess. You. Don’t. Question!”

  “The Script is not written in plain language. It’s vague and unclear. Isn’t that the job of an Elder? To interpret the Script?”

  “No!” shouted Deke, angry now. “Elders carry out His commands. An Elder is His servant. An Elder pledges an oath, to lead as others follow the Way. To obey His law.”

  “I understand that. But His law comes from the Script. It is not always clear and concise.”

  “That just shows your ignorance. I don’t know what Aldwyn was thinking, trying to teach you to scribe. It’s obvious you are not capable. And you are certainly not worthy. Believe me. It won’t go unpunished. My father will hear about it when I get home.”

  Kiran’s teeth were clenched together so tightly his jaw hurt. “Yeah well, you’ll have to get to the Voice first!” With the impulse to stomp away, he searched the landscape for an escape. His eyes set on the jagged cliffs overhead. “It’s too bad we can’t get up there,” he said aloud.

  Roh followed his gaze. “Good thinking, Kiran. If we could find a route up the canyon walls to the top, we could get a look downriver. Then we’d know if we should stay this course or abandon the river all together.”

  They craned their necks, bending backward to look up at the bluffs.

  Jandon scoffed. “You’re kidding, right? You want to climb up there? How? Those rock walls are higher than the cliff at the Sanctuary on the Mount.”

  Kiran looked sidelong at Roh in disbelief. He was actually considering it.

  “We need to find water and food,” Roh continued. “We’ll make camp and I’ll go.”

  Kiran’s eyes were drawn back up the side of the cliff. His legs went weak.

  Deke looked over his shoulder, eyeing Roh. “It’s too dangerous. The Great Father has watched over us so far.” In his most authoritative voice, he said, “Have faith. He will provide.”

  “What I have,” Roh said flatly, “is the knowledge that where there are animals, there is water. It must be up there.”

  “I don’t know,” said Bria. “Deke’s right. It looks awfully dangerous.”

  “No, don’t go,” Kail begged. “Don’t leave us. We are supposed to stay together.”

  “It may be our only hope. I’m going,” Roh said. “At first light.”

  Deke shook his head.

  “I think it’s brave,” Bria said. “But you shouldn’t go alone.”

  Without thinking, the words “I’ll go with you” burst from Kiran’s lips. He stared at Bria and swallowed hard, waiting for a reaction, his insides doing flips. She shifted her gaze to him and smiled. “I’ll go with you,” he repeated.

  The bare rock offered few places to sleep. The moon was full again. With the tent hide lost, Kail and Bria had nowhere safe to sleep. Kiran helped cover them with what clothing and blankets they had, then wedged into a tiny perch at the water’s edge. He raised the last waterskin to his lips but got nothing. He chewed on a bit of leather to keep his mouth moist, even though his teeth ached and his lips cracked with the movement.

  He lay awake in the shadow of the towering cliffs filled with trepidation as the constant roar of the river echoed around him. The moonlight shimmered across the surface of the water, a ribbon of silvery glow, gently curving through the darkness, crests of white foam sparkling, as if alive. He wondered how something so beautiful could be so menacing.

  As the stars were unveiled by the dark of night, he saw one fall from the Celestial Kingdom and shoot across the sky, its flaming green tail trailing behind it. A few moments later, a second followed, this one a tint of yellow. Kiran fixed his gaze on one star, waiting to see if he could observe it dislodging from the firmament. Such a sign would ease his mind. Witnessing the birth of a shooting star was a good omen. He stared until his eyes grew heavy.

  At first light, he and Roh were up, packing for the trek under an overcast sky. They packed their rucksacks with only the essentials to keep their loads light. Bria tied the waterskins together and stuffed them in Kiran’s pack. “Be careful,” she said, trying to smile. Her eyes, reddened from the dusty air, were etched with worry.

  Roh grinned at Kiran, one eyebrow up. Kiran returned Bria’s smile, noticing her sunken cheeks. He and Roh had better find something to eat. His hand went to her cheek, but he let it drop on her shoulder.

  Roh said, “It might take all day to reach the summit. I don’t expect we’ll be back until tomorrow night at the earliest.”

  “Tomorrow night?” Kail said. “No. No! Don’t go! There’s water right here.” She dropped to her knees at the river’s edge and started gulping handfuls.

  “No! Kail! Stop!” Kiran ran to her side.

  “You must be mistaken. The Father always provides. You read the Script yourself!”

  “I know I did, but maybe—”

  “Drink of it, you said. Drink of the river!”

  “But Kail!” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her from the water. “Maybe this isn’t that river.”

  She sat back, her eyes wide.

  He turned to Roh. “Let’s go.”

  Roh set the pace as they picked their way over a jumble of boulders, progressing up the incline at an angle, then switching back, slowly making their way upward. Placing each foot with caution, they crossed slopes of loose scree. Occasionally there were pockets of sandy soil where low, scrubby vegetation had taken root. Plants with glossy, leathery leaves that looked as though they were covered in wax. Others pear-shaped with spiked thorns. Some grew in horizontal bunches, low along the ground, with dense rosettes of leaves, their vein-like roots sprawling across the surface of the rock.

  After climbing a stratum of steep, crumbly rock, they came to a dead end. A sheer wall rose nearly twenty feet above them with a jagged crack right down the center, as if it had been cleaved in two by a giant. They looked back the way they had come. There was no other way.

  Kiran’s head started to pound. He dropped to his knees, panting. “I guess this is as far as we can go.” Twenty feet straight up was insurmountable. It was just too high.

  Undaunted, Roh dropped his pack and wedged himself into the
cleft in the rock face. “We can crawl up this way,” he said. From his pack he took a short length of rope, tied it around his waist, and attached it to his pack. He pressed his back against one side, his feet firmly against the other, and began to shinny his way up, towing his pack dangling below him. Watching him go, Kiran’s hands grew clammy and his legs started to shake.

  Roh tossed the rope down to Kiran. “Your turn!” Kiran gathered the straps of his rucksack together, tied them to the rope, and tested his knot. Then he looped it around his waist.

  He took the rope in his hand and tugged, testing it. Then he tested the knot again. Did he really have to do this? He looked up at Roh who sat comfortably on the edge, his legs dangling over the side. “Take it steady,” he yelled down.

  Sure, steady, thought Kiran. I’m shaking so hard I’ll bring the whole wall crumbling down. He reminded himself to breathe as he placed one foot on the far side of the crack and pushed his back against the wall. “All right, here I come.” He gritted his teeth and started up the crack, inch by inch, holding his breath all the while. About half way up, he locked his knees, holding himself wedged in the cleft, and let his hands go, one at a time, to stretch his cramped fingers before he continued upward.

  Finally, his legs shaking, he reached the ledge and dragged himself over the top. He flopped on his side, and for a few moments he lay there, trying to catch his breath.

  “Look,” said Roh, his gaze skyward. Kiran rolled onto his back. Dark clouds hung heavy overhead. Curtains of rain streaked down, trailing beneath the clouds, but no raindrops hit the ground.

  “How can that be?” Kiran wondered out loud, licking his cracked lips.

  “I don’t know. Let’s keep moving.”

  By late-afternoon, they were traversing a crumbly recess in the side of the canyon wall, working their way up a low grade toward the top when they came upon a sparse copse of stunted cedar. Kiran found a bare bush, stripped of leaves and blackened by fire. “Struck by lightning. What luck.” He snapped off a piece of a partially charred branch. Wood burned by lightning was sacred, sanctified by the hand of the Great Father. Kiran knew immediately what he wanted to do with it. With a smile of satisfaction, he put it in his pocket.

  Roh had continued on without waiting. Kiran staggered forward to catch up. As he left the stand of dwarf trees, he found Roh kneeling in a sandy crevice. “Water!” Roh said, his face bright with a smile.

  Kiran dropped to his knees next to him. A thin line of water trickled from under the rock. Kiran put his lips to the ground and sucked at the sand like a lowly beast. It grated against his parched lips and sore gums. He grimaced and spat it out. Roh took off his tunic, pressed the corner into the crack in the rock, then put it to his mouth and sucked at the damp fabric. “Try this,” he said.

  “But how will we get enough to fill the waterskins? For Bria and the others?” Kiran pawed at the ground, digging into the sand until his cracked fingers split open and started to bleed.

  “It’s no use,” Roh said, pulling him back.

  Kiran heaved a sigh and looked skyward. The sun stared down from above, not caring whether they lived or died. “Maybe we should just drink from the river.”

  “We just have to keep going,” Roh said and he rose to his feet. “C’mon.”

  Kiran shuffled along, his head down, and before he realized, they were walking on flat land. Roh came to a halt. As far as the eye could see, the landscape stretched before them, a barren, monochromatic expanse of utter desolation, devoid of any vegetation or sign of life whatsoever, just the wave of heat shimmering on the horizon.

  Kiran blinked twice, unable to believe his eyes. “Where are all the animals we’ve seen? Where do they go? This looks like the Great Meadow, but there’s not even grass. It’s just… nothing.”

  Roh scanned the horizon, turning left, then right, squinting in the sun. “Let’s have a look downriver.” They searched for a vantage point, inching out on a rocky prow that jutted over the drop-off.

  When Kiran stepped to the edge, he had a full panoramic view that took his breath away. Terraces of rock spread before him in layers of buff and pink, gray, brown, and vermillion—a majestic rainbow of rock, just as Bria had said. “Look at all the different kinds of rock,” he said.

  Below, the long, sinuous flow of the river cut great sweeping curves through the bottom of the gorge, the distance reducing it to abstract form—a blue line against a background of brown. Kiran swayed, overcome by a sensation of vertigo. He caught himself, dropping to one knee. He looked down to the gravel at his feet, trying to keep his balance, and dropped to a seated position.

  He had only ever seen the rocky shoreline of the sea near his home. He had never imagined an entire canyon made of solid rock, and for as far as he could see. The epic scale was mind boggling, as if space and distance had no meaning. The sheer size of the canyon made him feel small and helpless, a mere speck in this colossal place. A powerful wave of veneration swept over him and tears came to his eyes.

  A beam of sunlight broke through the cloud cover, shining down from the Celestial Kingdom into the labyrinth of sandstone cliffs and stone spires as if to highlight certain formations in a golden spotlight. “Look at that,” he pointed. “It looks like the temple bell tower.”

  “More like a stone tomb,” Roh mumbled.

  “It’s magnificent! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Roh squatted down and plucked a lone strand of grass from a crack in the rock. As he rolled it between his fingers, it turned to dust. “We wouldn’t last but a few days up here,” he said, releasing the dust on the wind. “The river is the only way.” He scanned the horizon. “I don’t see any signs of water, or animals either. We should head back as far as we can while there’s still light.”

  Kiran nodded, taking a last look at the awesome sight before him. Aldwyn won’t believe this, he thought. Who’d have thought such a place existed. Only in dreams.

  A warm wind blew up from below as he turned and followed Roh back down the way they had come.

  Hiking downward, they soon realized, was slower than going up and they hadn’t gotten far when dusk descended in the canyon. The wind increased in strength, whipping dust and sand in the air, and they quickly found refuge under a ledge. Kiran’s whole body ached and he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bedroll and sleep, but his head throbbed with a constricting sensation, his thoughts filled with visions of clear, flowing water.

  Chapter 16

  Lightning crackled in the air and thunder boomed simultaneously, jolting Kiran from his sleep. It was barely dawn. Peals of thunder echoed through the canyon, rumbling like the groans of a giant. The damp air smelled of mud and the stringent, metallic odor of a lightning strike. The promise of rain made his heart swell with hope.

  Roh’s eyes were closed. You might as well sleep, Kiran thought. He took the charred piece of cedar from his pocket and began to whittle.

  In the distance, the low booming of a rockslide reverberated down the canyon. He paused to listen, eyeing the ledge above their heads. He inched back, pressing against the rock, and continued to cut shavings from the wood. First, he shaved a flat surface for the base. Then he cut from the base on an angle, shaving off bits in tiny strokes, turning it as he went to make the four sides of a pyramid. At the tip, he carefully cut in a curving motion, forming a sphere and the Pyletar took shape.

  From out of nowhere came the gush of rushing water and a deluge plunged over the ledge above. Kiran scrambled to his knees and held his head back under the flow, gulping water. “Water! Water!” he shouted, his words muffled in a gurgling mouthful. He grabbed a waterskin and held it under the precious flow. “Wake up!” he shouted, nudging Roh with his foot. Kiran reached for a second waterskin and handed it to Roh. “Can you believe it? It never rained.”

  Roh jumped to his feet and within moments they had full waterskins and full stomachs. They sat back to wait for the waterfall to recede.

  Kiran gasped with a spasm
of stomachache. He should have taken a little at a time. He had just been so thirsty. And they hadn’t eaten in three days now. How long could someone survive without food? He ached with visions of harvest on the farm—fresh lettuce, sweet potatoes, winter squash, and a juicy mutton shank, dripping with fat. It was past harvest time now. Had Aldwyn gleaned anything at all? His stomach squeezed again. And the sheep. How many would they lose again this winter? How long could the village last?

  “Roh, do you ever… I mean, we’ll make it to the Voice, right?”

  “Well, one of us has to, or all of this will be for nothing.”

  The waterfall thinned, leaving tiny gaps in the strands of water. Kiran glanced down at the river, deceptively benign from this distance. He looked back up river, the direction of home. “But how will we ever make it back? We can’t paddle up that river, not against that current.”

  Roh looked him in the eye. “I’m not sure we are meant to.”

  Kiran swallowed hard. A scratchy, old voice echoed in the recesses of his memory: To certain doom, the lot of them… to certain doom. Kiran sat stone still, staring at the space where the streams of water spattered on the rock in front of them, struggling to keep hold of something, anything. The odds were too great, their chances too slim.

  Maybe they were to take the river, maybe not. He just didn’t know anymore.

  Roh was watching him, his brow knit as though assessing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, he said, “This is the way. The river. We are on the right path.” Kiran wasn’t sure if Roh was trying to reassure him or himself.

  “What happened back there? With the staff and the Lendhi woman?” Roh asked.

  “Oh, that. Well…” Kiran picked up his knife and started hacking at the carving, sending tiny bits of wood in the air.

  “What were you trying to do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even think I can explain it. I thought I could. . . travel, like Manu-amatu. Damn it!” The knife sliced across his finger, spilling his blood on the Pyletar.