The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

  “You can trust me,” she said, reaching with one finger to push a curly lock from his forehead. “Now, close your eyes and relax.”

  Kiran laid his head back on the edge of the pool and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the water soothe his weary body. But he couldn’t relax. He was in a bath. In his underclothes. With a woman. Right next to him.

  He opened one eye, watching her.

  “My, my, you are a restless soul. I can help you find your way, if only you would trust me.”

  He closed his eye once more, trying to relax. We are only talking.

  “Free your mind, let all thought go, as it once was, when you were a child—pure and free and innocent. Picture yourself as a small boy. You are all alone, walking through the woods and feel lost. Someone has left you.”

  Kiran winced at the memory. He was alone, under the towering trees, searching for someone.

  “You wander alone in the woods until you finally find your house, but no one is home. You step inside, calling for him, but no one answers you. Your things are there. Picture them now, things from your childhood, all dusty, tattered, and torn.”

  Painful memories flooded his mind with no sensible sequence, pounding in so fast he didn’t have time to recognize their meaning. He rode the waves of emotion, reliving each agony, each heartache.

  “You are beginning to feel lonely, as lonely as you did as a little child in bed. Who did you long for?”

  Mother! he cried in the vision, raising his hands to cover his eyes. His heartbeat rang in his ears as he fought back tears.

  “Why are you all alone, crying in your bed? Weren’t you loved? Think about the loneliness, the agony of being forgotten. Those feelings are still deep inside, tugging at your heart. You are crying all alone and no one comes.” Angei-Laina took one of his hands in hers. He opened his eyes and stared into her pale blue eyes. “You don’t have to ever feel lonely again. We are your family now. We love you.” She patted him on the head and brushed back his curls with the soft caress of a mother’s hand. “In the Kingdom of the Kotari, no one is alone. The love of Ani is like the warmth of sunshine after the rain. You are now in His loving arms. You can let go of all the hurt and sorrow.”

  Tears warmed his eyes and he started to shake, overcome with emotion as the echo of his call for his mother tore at his heart.

  “That’s it, my son. Let it all out,” she soothed. “Your feelings show your depth of love and connection. Don’t shy away from them.”

  All those years, he had wept inside for a mother and now the tears came flooding forth. Angei-Laina pulled him to her bosom. “I want you to think back again, now. Think back to home and the agony you have suffered at the hands of others. Who was there for you? Who defended you?”

  Kiran closed his eyes once more and tried to picture Aldwyn, but he could not form an image of him in his mind. Like wisps of smoke, bits of memories came, wavered, then disappeared on the wind.

  “The old man took you in. Why? What reason could he have?”

  Aldwyn loves me.

  “He wanted to mold you, shape you in his own image. How do you know that what he taught you is true? Maybe he led you down the wrong path.”

  No! Aldwyn loves me. Kiran’s head began to hurt. Doesn’t he? His heart started to pump harder.

  “You have nothing but his word. Maybe he was just a confused old man, using you for his own gain. But that doesn’t matter.” She gently released him from her embrace. He opened his eyes and stared into hers. “You are a man now. You are old enough to make decisions of your own.”

  His jaw set, he said, “I am not a boy.”

  “I know, brother. I know,” she said, her soft eyes running down his chest, down his body and back up again, causing a flush of warmth in him. “You have entered the Kingdom and are born into a new life. It is time to let go of those old thoughts, those old ways.”

  Let go. Yes, that’s what he needed to do. Let go. Let go.

  “Your old thoughts are stones in your way, blocking your path. Move forward, no matter what you have to do. This is your journey, and yours alone. You’ve had no loved ones, no one who understands.”

  No one who understands. Deke had constantly antagonized him, berated him, disparaged him at every turn. His fists clenched in anger. Then there was Jandon, turning his back on him—his best friend! At least he had thought they were friends. But when it came down to choosing, he knew Jandon would always go with Deke.

  And Roh. Kiran thought they had become friends, but had they? He was still an enigma. Kiran had no idea what Roh really thought of him or if he cared about him at all. Kiran’s faced burned with rage. That day, after he learned the truth about the Mawghul, they had scolded him! All of them! Even Bria. He’d never forget her face as she turned away—the despondency in her eyes. After the night they had kissed.

  Years of anger and frustration surged to the surface. He had been denying, pushing their judgment aside. Up to this moment, he had yearned for their acceptance, their friendship, their love. Well, no more. He belonged here, in the Kingdom. He was accepted here, unconditionally, with genuine love. He didn’t need them.

  He fought back tears. But my Bria. The burden he carried with him, the shadow that haunted him, burst into a gaping black hole, enveloping him in darkness. Angei-laina was right; he was all alone. He trembled, fearing he’d be lost in the abyss forever.

  “Let go. Let yourself emerge from the darkness, for darkness is evil. You have always been forced into the dark. But you are smarter than that. This is your time, to do as you believe.” She lowered her eyes once more, her eyelids heavy. “You know what you want. As you said, you are not a boy. You are a man.”

  Three women appeared at the side of the pool, tall and thin and shapely, dressed in the gauzy gowns of the Angei, their voluptuous bodies showing beneath. One woman with lustrous red hair and eyes the color of rain carried a platter of fruit and sugary breads. She set it on the edge of the pool and dropped her robe. Kiran drew in a breath and stiffened. What was she doing? She wore nothing but a sheer camisole. His eyes followed her every movement, drinking in her soft curves. He could see her nipples through the thin fabric and his mind raced back to a stormy night, and Bria dancing in the rain, her wet tunic clinging to her body.

  With a tiny ripple of water, the woman slipped into the pool beside him. He looked to Angei-Laina, his eyes wide. She nodded, signaling all was well. But the Guardian just said…

  The other two women dropped their white robes and slid into the pool on either side of him. Angei-Laina’s voice weaved into the thoughts surging through his head. “Stop thinking with your head, stop rationalizing, stop seeking answers. You need only humbly accept love in your heart to find peace.” Kiran’s eyes fixed on the red-haired woman who was swirling her hands through the water, her soft eyes on him. “To experience the rapture, on the Day of Thunder, you must learn to let go your inhibitions. You must give yourself over entirely to Ani, without question, without hesitation.”

  To let go inhibitions. Hadn’t he said that to Bria? The thought fluttered in and out of his mind. When he wanted to kiss her? He blinked, trying to concentrate. The red-haired woman eased next to him and ran her fingers through his hair, playfully twisting his curls. One of the other women came along his other side, placing her hand on his knee. He trembled at her touch. She leaned toward him. Her shiny red lips parted slightly and she whispered, “You belong here.” She leaned in closer, her warm breath on his ear, “You are wanted.” Kiran stared at her, breathing hard. She reached for the platter, took a morsel of sweet bread in her fingers, and brought it to his lips. He opened his mouth to her, his heart racing, desire pulsing through his veins.

  From nowhere, Cartus appeared again. “It is time to head back for the evening meal.”

  Kiran’s eyes shot up to him. He gulped, swallowing hard. He couldn’t stand up now.

  The four women eased from the pool. He watched them go, the robes clinging to their wet bodies, his breath
fast. He turned to see Cartus staring at him and his face flushed red.

  “Do not be embarrassed,” Cartus said, handing Kiran a clean, dry tunic. “To face temptation and abstain is virtuous. In the Kingdom, it is a sin to spill your seed without permission of the Guardian. He must grant you the Right.”

  “The Right?” Kiran turned his back to Cartus and rose from the pool to dress.

  “You will see, my brother. In time. For now, we need to go.”

  Kiran followed him back to the island, his body racked with frustration. Was he brought to the pools to face temptation? Was this how he would earn the mark and be one of the chosen? To let go his inhibitions, to embrace the love of Ani—was that what he needed to do to serve the Father?

  But how could he ever give up Bria? Just the thought of her made his pulse race again. He was thankful Cartus was facing the other way. What is happening to me? Most of the time, he couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t concentrate. Any gesture or smile, brushing past a girl, the slightest breeze sent his body ablaze. He thought he might go crazy. He needed release, that was certain, freedom from the incessant desire, but he wasn’t sure that was what Angei-laina meant. She had said he needed to let go, to stop using his head, and open his heart.

  But it wasn’t his heart that ached.

  Chapter 20

  One day flowed into the next and another moon passed without much notice as Kiran went about his daily routine in the Kingdom of the Kotari.

  Then one day, while Kiran worked with his brothers in the gardens, news of a wedding whispered among the followers. In seven days, a nuptial banquet and grand party was to take place in honor of a new Angei. The entire Kingdom was aflutter with excitement and festive optimism.

  When the day finally arrived, everyone was roused at dawn and assigned duties in lieu of their daily chores. Cartus directed all the brothers of House Four to their posts. Kiran fell in line, following three of his brothers to the cookhouse. They knocked at the back door and a woman, about Aldwyn’s age, with blond, curly hair, answered. “We’re assigned kitchen duty,” his brother told her.

  “Come in,” she said, waving them past her. She took one look at Kiran and put her hand out to stop him. She stared into his eyes and, for a fleeting moment, he felt a glimmer of recognition. There was something about her eyes. Or was it her voice?

  “I haven’t seen you around,” she said. “What kind of work can you do?”

  “Whatever you ask of me, I suppose. So long as you’ll show me how to do it. I’m a quick learner.”

  Standing with her hands on her hips, she looked him up and down. “Well, where are you from? What work have you done?”

  “Farming mostly. I’m from the Toran village, on the edge of the Sea of Demarcation, from here toward the rising sun.”

  She drew in a breath. He thought he saw her lip quiver.

  “I think I have a job for you,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “Come in.”

  He strode up the two steps into the kitchen and followed her to a storeroom in the back. “Sit down there,” she said, pointing to an old stool. “I’ll be right back.”

  He waited, listening to the clanking of pans in the kitchen.

  At last, the woman returned. “I have a special chore for you. You’ll be helping me make the ceremonial drink.” Her eyes held his for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  He squirmed and rose to his feet. “All right.”

  “What’s your name?”

  He paused a moment, realizing that, since he had arrived, no one in the Kingdom of the Kotari had ever asked his name. “Kiran,” he said, his own name sounding foreign now as he said it out loud.

  Her lip quivered again; he was sure he saw it this time. She remained silent for a long moment. Something in the way she looked at him made him feel weighed and measured.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked over her shoulder, then nodded, regaining her composure. She gestured for him to follow, then left the room as though she couldn’t get out fast enough.

  “Sure, but ma’am,” he called, trying to keep up with her as she flew out the back door. “Please, tell me your name.”

  She halted and turned to face him. A warm smile spread across her face. “Kalindria,” she whispered, waiting with eager eyes as though she anticipated a response. He had no idea what she sought. Finally, she turned and motioned for him to follow.

  She led him to a covered patio with a long, wooden table on which were bowls of various items. One was filled with the green inner shavings of tree bark. Another contained flower petals, another leaves and stems, yet another, bits of root. Just beyond the patio was a smoldering fire, a tripod straddling the pit.

  Kalindria demonstrated how to knead the tree bark in a bowl of cold water. He worked, doing as she taught him, as best he could, mashing the bark into a paste. When she left him to stir the fire, he glanced up, and caught her staring at him. She quickly looked away. He kept mashing the bark as she swung a huge black pot, larger than he had ever seen, over the pit. “We need to boil that paste into a syrup,” she said. Kiran helped her pour the mashed bark into the pot and she stirred while directing him to crush the other ingredients between two large stones.

  “So, you are a Toran?” she asked, the question a surprise. He had become accustomed to the silence of the Kotari.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he smiled. A real Toran, he wanted to say.

  “What brings you here?” she asked, now staring into the pot.

  “I was sent with six others on a quest to the Voice of the Father,” he said, digging the memory from the back of his mind.

  Her eyes shot up. “Who sent you?” she asked, her eyes holding his with a desperate grip.

  “The Elders did. You see, it was a drought and Aldwyn—”

  “Aldwyn?” she gasped.

  Kiran stopped what he was doing and stared at her, waiting for an explanation. She quickly averted her eyes, looking into the steaming pot. “Yes, Aldwyn. Do you know him?”

  She turned back to face Kiran. Her eyes went soft, as though resigned to share her secret, and she made an almost imperceptible nod. “How is he?” she asked, her voice a small whisper.

  Kiran studied her a moment, wondering how she could possibly know Aldwyn. “He is fine. As far as I know. We have been gone several moons now. I don’t know if he gleaned any harvest, but he always has the tithes.” He frowned. “If he’ll accept them.”

  She nodded, her eyes filled with pain.

  “How do you know Aldwyn?”

  “It was a long, long time ago,” she said, her eyes misty now. “Is he married?”

  “Married?” Kiran was surprised by the question. “Why, no. He’s never married. I’m afraid—”

  “What?” she said, dropping the spoon handle. “Afraid of what?”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault.” His eyes lowered. “I’m an orphan and Aldwyn took me in when I was just a baby.”

  The woman reached for the table to steady herself, the color draining from her face.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

  “Shall I get you a cup of water?”

  She nodded.

  Kiran hustled off to the kitchen and returned with two cups of water. The woman had regained her composure; the color had come back to her face. Kiran wanted to know more about how she knew Aldwyn, but her demeanor had changed, closed off now, and somehow asking the questions seemed rude.

  He went back to work, smashing the flower petals, watching her with interest, waiting for the right moment to restart the conversation.

  He set another pot of water to boil, as she directed. When it finally bubbled, they poured it into the large bowl of crushed leaves and petals, steeping them like tea. They set the hot pot down in the dirt and he took over the task of stirring the large cauldron of tree bark.

  Kalindria eased next to him. “Listen,” she whispered. “You need to get out of here. You nee
d to leave, as soon as possible. Before it’s too late.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She looked from side to side, then glanced over her shoulder as she leaned in close to Kiran. “Listen to me. The Kingdom is not what it seems. The Guardian is not truthful. He is manipulating you—all of you. Get away while you can.”

  Kiran took a step back, his eyes darting around, looking for anyone who might hear them. This kind of talk bred sin—the poison of the unfaithful—Cartus had said. He was to report anyone who spoke this way.

  “Nothing good will come if you stay,” she went on. “You will only live on in regret. You must go. Now!”

  Somewhere deep inside he knew she spoke the truth. Things weren’t right here. Something was amiss. Like the way the Guardian looked at Bria. And why hadn’t he seen Roh at all?

  Kalindria was the first person he had met in the Kingdom who had shown any doubt and she was adamant. She had only said out loud what he had been thinking. Should he admit his own suspicions? Maybe she knew more than she was saying. No. He must be cautious; if he discussed this with her, even acknowledged his doubt, he’d be risking too much. He knew better. Maybe this was a trick. Another test. Kiran searched her eyes for the truth.

  A young man appeared on the path from the kitchen. Kiran’s heart skipped a beat. Had he heard anything? If they were caught speaking blasphemy… The boy had the face of a child, yet hobbled along, dragging a crooked leg like an old man, his head bobbing as he whistled a merry tune. “Here you are, more petals.” He dropped a basket on the table, then paused, looking at Kiran with big, curious eyes. “Hi there, who are you? I’m Pel. Nice to meet you,” he said. He grabbed Kiran’s hand and pumped it up and down, an unruly thatch of brown hair flopping over his forehead. “It’s always nice to have help, that’s for sure.”

  Kiran looked from Pel to Kalindria, then back to Pel. Pel’s expression changed, as though he realized he had interrupted something. “Forgive me.” He leaned toward Kiran. “I can’t seem to master the silence rule,” he said in a fake whisper and winked. He dumped the petals into a bowl and turned and limped away, empty basket in hand.