The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

“I think we go to the right,” said Bria. “The Script said to take the way less traveled, remember?”

  “Uh uh! That’s the Forest of the Widhu,” said Pel, shaking his head. “No way am I going that way. They are bloodthirsty cannibals. They’ll cut off your heads!”

  “The Widhu? What are you talking about?” asked Kiran.

  “Only danger that way. Trust me. They bite you with their fangs, injecting deadly venom that makes your insides burn up and you slowly suffocate to death. Or they hunt you down and chop off your head. That’s how they steal your soul! No way. I’m not going that way.” He crossed his arms. The Torans looked to each other. “And that’s not all. There are fish with mouths full of razor sharp teeth. If they get the scent of one drop of blood, they attack in a frenzy, and bite by bite, they eat you alive, right down to your bones.”

  “Why didn’t you mention this before?” Kiran asked.

  Deke spoke then. “He didn’t mention it because it’s not true. There is no need to argue or debate. The Great Father has declared His will clearly in the Script of the Legend, as it is told: Alas, you will be faced with a crossroads; Choose the way less traveled. We, as faithful Torans, know that the Script is the absolute, authoritative Law. We do not challenge it. It is our duty to follow where the Father leads.

  “We cannot let ourselves be paralyzed by fear, though some have wandered from true faith and forgotten that His watchful eye is ever upon us.” He glared at Kiran. “At every turn, we have been tested—tested by the savages of the plains, by the raging river, by the tyranny of the Guardian. Now our faith is tested once again—not by the wicked, though we must beware, and not by temptation, though we have learned there are many in this world—but by the face of fear.” He glared at Pel. “We must move forth despite it.

  “And so,” he paused to cough, “our path is clear. It is not for us to determine which direction we take; it is to decide whether or not we follow the Great Father or wallow in faithlessness. This is our path, and to deny it is to deny His authority. So, let us go forth, for our destiny is before us, as was foretold.”

  Kiran sat back. Deke was right. There was no question which way to go. And who was truly the leader. Deke’s faith was strong, unwavering, and he acted with steadfast devotion. He’s the Seventh Elder. He must be, Kiran thought. “I’m with Deke,” he said.

  Jandon nodded and Bria did, too. Roh simply shrugged in acquiescence and, using the long pole, shoved the raft back into the current.

  “Hold on!” shouted Pel. “Let me off the raft!”

  “You want us to leave you here? Alone?” Roh asked.

  “Anything is better than going that way.” He shuddered, his eyes bulging.

  Roh eased the raft to the bank.

  Pel’s eyes shot back and forth from Roh to the riverbank.

  “Well?” Roh said. Everyone else stared, waiting.

  Pel jumped off the raft and scrambled up the muddy bank.

  Roh stuck the pole in the side to push off. “No, no, no!” hollered Pel. “Don’t go!” He plunged into the river to get back on the raft. “Listen to me. Listen to reason! It’s too dangerous to go that way.”

  “Well, that’s the way we’re going,” Deke said and nodded to Roh.

  Roh pushed out again. Pel plopped down on the edge of the raft, his arms crossed. “Fine, but mark my words.”

  As they eased toward the right branch of the river, Bria rearranged their packs so they would be able to sleep while underway. Deke sat straight-backed, facing forward while Jandon lay on the back of the raft, staring up at the clouds, his fingers trailing through the water. Roh deftly maneuvered the raft, eyes in constant motion on the river ahead for danger.

  Around them, the forest was deathly silent. The only sound that could be heard was the sucking noises Pel made as he chewed on his lower lip.

  Chapter 24

  Deke took the pole from Kiran as they entered the channel. The current slowed, the river widened, and its surface turned smooth. Towering trees jutted straight up out of the water and formed a ceiling of leaves high above the river where a few tiny shafts of sunshine filtered through, lighting the dark chamber with a pale sepia, the mist rising like smoke from the sacred incense. In an instant, Kiran was back in the Temple, Old Horan murmuring: Someone must go.

  “This is creepy,” said Jandon, his eyes in constant motion as he rose to take the pole from Roh. A warm fog enveloped them in the muted murmurings of the jungle and the scent of stagnant mud. Spider webs dripped from dead tree branches, thick with moisture. “Are you sure this is the way, Deke? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Stillness surrounded them, a palpable calm, as if some silent predator lurked within the dense foliage at the edge of the river.

  Deke coughed, a heavy, raspy hacking from deep in his lungs. “Of course, I’m sure,” he said in a hoarse whisper, then coughed again, trying to clear his throat.

  He and Jandon eased the raft along on the floor of water, navigating around the sprawling tree trunks, leaving an inky-black path through swirls of green algae.

  “Look,” Jandon whispered, tugging on Kiran’s tunic, “Look there.” He pointed into the tangle of foliage that hung at the shoreline.

  Kiran saw nothing but green leaves. “What is it?”

  “A face. In the woods. Didn’t you see him?”

  Kiran looked again. “No, I don’t see anything.”

  “But it was just there. I swear it.”

  “I told you,” Pel piped in. “This place is nothing but evil.”

  Deke said to Jandon, “Your imagination has gotten the better of you. There is nothing there. There’s not even a sound in the forest. It’s dead calm.”

  “But…” Jandon kept scanning. “I was sure I saw something.”

  Deke glared at Pel. “So how did you hear of these headhunters, anyway? Have you ever seen them yourself?”

  “Huh?” said Pel, twitching. “Well, no. But everybody knows to stay out of the swamp.”

  “Uh huh.” Deke nodded. “And the fountain you mentioned, the one you were seeking to heal your leg. Did you ever find it?”

  “No, I told you.”

  “And how did you hear about that?” Deke asked, his eyes fixed on Pel.

  Pel squirmed under his gaze. “Well, I just heard about it. I don’t remember how exactly. Everyone talks, you know.”

  “Uh huh,” said Deke, nodding, a fake smile on his face.

  “I don’t care what you think. I’m going to find it someday.” He looked over his shoulder. “If I get out of here alive,”

  Deke launched into another fit of coughing.

  As the day wore on, Kiran could not shake an uneasy feeling. He scanned the riverbank as they floated past, trying to spot anything threatening amid the shadows. Jandon was right. They were being watched. He was sure of it.

  Deke asked Pel to take the pole, complaining of a headache. He sat on his pack and coughed and coughed. If there was anyone or anything in the forest, there was no question; they knew the Torans were there.

  As dusk settled, the fog took on an eerie, yellow glow and the night turned chill. In the stillness, they floated along, listening to the lapping of the water on the edge of the raft.

  With a start, Bria sat upright. “Do you hear that?” she whispered, her voice shaky.

  From somewhere in the distance came the pounding of drums. Everyone held their breath, alert.

  “It’s the headhunters. They’re on the hunt,” Pel whispered.

  “Shhh,” Roh and Kiran said simultaneously.

  Roh turned his head side to side. “I can’t make it out,” he whispered. “Where’s it coming from?”

  Then the drumming stopped. They waited, but did not hear the drums again all night.

  Every night, they glided along, never seeming to come closer to the drumming. It was as though the drums followed them down the river, working to unravel their nerves.

  The rains came every afternoon, and afterward, they’d pass through cool pocket
s of air, giving them fleeting bouts of respite from the oppressive jungle heat. But there was still no food to be found. As the days dragged on, Kiran could think of little else but food. If he took a few bites of the rationed stash, his stomach felt worse than if he hadn’t eaten at all.

  A heavy gloom settled on the group. Reciting the daily Verse was forgotten. No one spoke of the quest. The thought of getting to the Voice now seemed like a far off dream, vague and obscure. The reality was the swampy morass they were in—opaque, musty, and airless—and the constant fear of the Widhu, eating away at their resolve. Kiran had fleeting thoughts of giving in, of diving from the raft and floating away into the green oblivion. It seemed easier than the constant fear that gripped his stomach. The possibility that they may not return home alive was as real as the empty food bags.

  Every little thing, no matter how small, became something to be concerned about. Kiran developed a rash on his feet. Standing to take his turn at the poles became painful as his feet turned from pink to bright red and cracked. Skin flaked on the sides and back of his heels. Within a few days, the skin was peeling off in chunks around his toenails and the tops of his feet were fiery red. He knew he should keep them dry, but the raft was always wet.

  Deke’s condition turned worse. When he coughed, it gurgled like vomit in his throat. It made Kiran sick to hear it. Deke’s skin turned ashen and his eyes yellowed. In the miserable heat, he lay on the raft, wrapped in his blanket, shuddering uncontrollably from fever, complaining of a tender stomach. At times, he could barely get off the raft and get his pants down before his bowels let loose.

  One afternoon, through the mix of jungle smells, Kiran caught the faint odor of wood smoke. Then the river made a sharp turn. On the shore, amid a tiny patch of cleared land stood a structure that was clearly manmade. Wood poles, lashed together and stuck in the ground, supported platforms with palm-thatched roofs built high above the ground—huts on stilts.

  The tiny village appeared abandoned, as though the inhabitants had simply vanished into the silent forest. Roh dug his pole in the river bottom to halt the raft.

  Pel looked up at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Hello!” Kiran called.

  Pel swung around and glared at Kiran.

  Roh pulled the raft along side wooden posts that had been driven into the river bottom.

  “This is a bad idea,” Pel said, perched on the edge of the raft. “We shouldn’t be here. Don’t go in there.”

  Kiran was already off the raft and poking his head in the doorway of a hut. Bria was right behind him.

  In the center of the compound stood a cooking shed with a stove made of baked mud brick. Roh put his hand over it. “They’ve not been gone long,” he said.

  Next to the stove was a table, its surface cut with knife marks. Bits and pieces of a cabbage-like plant were scattered on the ground next to a water bucket. Kiran picked up the half shell of a round, woody pod about the size of his open palm from a pile on the ground next to the table. “This looks like their cooking area,” he muttered, tossing the empty shell on the ground.

  “Look at this!” Jandon was trying to pry open a pen constructed of sticks. Inside was a turtle the size of a dinner platter.

  “Don’t touch that,” Roh warned.

  “Are you kidding? Look at the meat on it.”

  Roh simply stared. Jandon shrugged, letting go of the pen. He shuffled away, heading around the back side of the huts.

  Bria stopped short, turning back toward the jungle. She motioned for them to listen. “I hear something. In the forest.”

  Roh nodded. “They’re letting us know that they know that we are here.”

  “Do you think it’s a warning?” Kiran suggested. “They have no reason to be afraid of us.”

  Roh’s brow creased with concern. “True, but do they know that?”

  “Look at this,” Pel called from the water’s edge. He had hauled a small, open-weaved basket out of the water and was holding it up for them to see. “Fish!”

  Deke tried to sit up to see, but collapsed back down on the packs.

  Bria went to check on him.

  “There’s another one over here,” said Jandon, standing downriver, pointing into the water where one was lashed to a pole, bobbing in the current.

  Kiran said to Roh. “How do we make them see we mean no harm?”

  “Kiran, Roh, look at this!” Bria called. She was hovering over Deke.

  They hurried to her side.

  Bria had Deke’s tunic pulled up. Rosy spots covered his chest and belly. “His stomach is rumbling. Look how bloated it is.” She looked up at the boys, her face flush with fear. “This can’t be good.”

  “Have you ever seen this before?” Roh asked her.

  She shook her head. Kiran squirmed. He took a step back, looking down at his own feet. They were red. Rosy red. Was it the same sickness?

  Deke mumbled something and grabbed at his clothes, sweat dripping from his forehead.

  “He’s burning up,” Bria said. “He can’t go on like this. He needs to rest. We should stay here.” Deke was asleep now, a coarse rattle coming from his chest as he breathed.

  Kiran scanned the forest. “Maybe they know how to cure him.”

  Roh said, “Or maybe they’ll chop off our heads.”

  “If they were going to attack, wouldn’t they have done it by now?”

  Roh glanced at Deke sprawled on the raft. “Maybe they know what ails him and they don’t want to catch it.”

  “More fish over here!” yelled Jandon.

  “We have to try,” Kiran said. “He needs something to eat.”

  Roh looked at Kiran a moment, then nodded. “You’re right,” he said. He yelled to Jandon. “Take only two. Bring them here. I’ll get a fire going.”

  Kiran sat down beside Bria. A mix of emotions crowded in on him at once.

  She turned toward him. He could feel the weight of her stare, but did not turn and face her. He would be forever haunted by the look in her eyes that morning when she had left him lying on the ground, the scent of their lovemaking still on him.

  “Do you have anything to say to me?” she finally said.

  Every moment of every day since they had left the Kotari, he thought of what he would say. On the long days on the river, he had rehearsed this moment, over and over in his mind, waiting for the time when they would be alone together, planning every word he would say to her, to tell her how sorry he was. But now that the moment was here, all thought left his mind and he feared that if he opened his mouth he’d be a babbling fool. He took a deep breath and turned to face her. “I miss your smile.”

  The corner of her mouth quivered, but her stare revealed nothing. He felt each second crawl past, waiting for a sigh of regret or a flash of anger in her eyes, anything. Finally, she turned her head deliberately so that she no longer saw him. The silence was agonizing. He had to say something. “I’m sorry.”

  She swung around. “Do you think I blame you? That you seduced me? Well, go away with good conscience.” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “My decisions are my own. Don’t feel you have some obligation—”

  “But Bria, I—”

  “I take responsibility for my own actions.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I am not some barn whore.” She hugged herself, shivering despite the hot, humid air.

  “A whore? Bria, no. I...” His insides squeezed. “It was the Guardian, the Kotari. We must have been bewitched somehow. My mind was not my own.”

  She glared at him. “So you don’t take responsibility? You say it was some,” she bit her lip, “some force against your will?”

  “Well, no. Yes. It was just, the drink, maybe it was a potion. My head was fuzzy.”

  Her expression turned to hurt. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t want to?” Her face crinkled with pain.

  “No. I mean yes, I wanted to…I… But I would never—”

  “But you did,” she said flatly, all feeling g
one.

  “And now, you have lost… Bria, I…” Their eyes held. No words came. He trembled, his heart crumbling. How could he have hurt her like this? He felt hollow, as if his soul had been ripped from his body. “I wish we’d never stopped on that island and none of this had happened.”

  “But it did.” She sat up straighter, pulling her shoulders back. She thrust her jaw forward.

  “We could run away, right now. We could live with the Lendhi. They would take us; I know they would.”

  “So you would run and hide?” she said, disappointment in her eyes. “You don’t make change by running away.”

  He shook his head. “But we could live as we believe.”

  “You don’t know what you believe.”

  Her words hit him like a slap.

  “I will go home. And I will hold my head high,” she said, but he could tell she was holding back tears.

  “You’re right. We’ll go back together. I’ll make a claim, one of the abandoned farms on the hillside, and work hard, I promise. I can make it work. I know I can.” He sighed. “If I had someone to tend my sheep.”

  In the time it took for her to respond, Kiran had raised a flock of sheep, had the rows planted, the harvest in.

  “Kiran, you’re not making sense. You’ve always wanted to be an Elder.”

  “I don’t need to be an Elder to be happy.” He turned to face her. “Bria, if we were home, right now, I’d ask for your hand.”

  She shoved herself backwards, her eyes on fire. “What makes you think I’d accept?”

  His mouth went dry. “I wouldn’t…assume. But, Bria…I…” I love you, he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat.

  “I know,” she said, as though she had read his mind. “But it’s not enough.”

  She held his gaze. He tried desperately to read her eyes.

  Roh came toward them. “The fish are ready.”

  Kiran nodded, avoiding Roh’s gaze.

  That night, the sky was clear and the current in the river picked up speed. Kiran and Roh took their turn at the poles. Bria and Jandon flopped across their bags, asleep. Deke twitched in delirium. Pel was still awake when the drumming started. He jerked upright, his bright eyes alert. “They’re close,” he whispered.