The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

  Kiran looked to Roh. “This is our chance.”

  They pushed the raft to shore. “Let’s hope they’re friendly,” muttered Roh.

  “Friendly? Uh uh. No way. There’s nothing friendly about them,” Pel muttered.

  “How can you be sure?” asked Kiran.

  “Trust me, I’m sure.”

  “Well, we don’t have a choice. We’re starving and we have to do something about Deke. Maybe they can help.”

  “No way.” Pel crossed his arms and stared at his feet.

  “I’ll go with you, Kiran,” Roh said.

  “What? I’m not staying here all alone,” Pel said.

  “But you’d be with—”

  “Uh uh, if you’re going, I’m going.”

  “But we shouldn’t all go,” Kiran whispered.

  “If you’re going, well,” Pel sighed. “I should go.”

  Roh stood with his hands on his hips. “Pel, what is this all about?”

  Pel looked to Roh, then back to Kiran. “I ah, I may be able to speak their language.”

  “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “Because I figured you’d do something crazy,” he huffed, “like want to talk to them.”

  Roh shook his head. “Fine, I’ll stay. But be careful.”

  Kiran crept through the tangle of bushes, blind under the new moon, following the sound of the drums.

  Behind him, Pel muttered some unintelligible phrase, over and over again. “Moo-day-shoo, gun-der shah. Moo-day-shoo, gun-der shah.”

  Kiran whispered, “What are you saying?”

  “We come in peace.”

  “Oh. Good idea.”

  “And a prayer to the God of War.”

  Kiran paused. God of war? This was not the time to question Pel. Through the leaves he saw the flickering light of a fire. “Hold your tongue. I want to get a look first.”

  Pel nodded and followed right behind him as he crept to the edge of a clearing, the drums pounding out all other sound. Hidden in the shadows, he got a clear view of the people by the light of the roaring fire. What he saw made him gasp.

  They were naked.

  The women were huddled together, their breasts hanging exposed for all to see, their only garments a roping of knots and beads strung around their waists. The men circled them, gyrating in a wild frenzy, wearing nothing but a length of twine at their waists. Their faces were painted with dark lines and dots. Some had bones pierced through their nostrils while others had narrow sticks of wood impaled in their earlobes. They glared at the women hungrily. The men, he saw now, had pointy fangs for teeth.

  “They have fangs,” he whispered in Pel’s ear. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  Pel shook his head, his mouth hanging open.

  Kiran wondered if they should reveal themselves. He felt like a gawker, hiding in the bushes, staring at these strange, naked savages. What had Roh said when they were captured by the Lendhi hunters? If he caught someone in the grass, he’d kill him. Perhaps he shouldn’t stay hidden. But something kept him rooted where he was.

  “Look,” Pel whispered. “There.” He nodded toward the house. It was built on stilts, off the ground like the huts they’d seen, only this one had a long, narrow roof with no walls.

  “What it is?”

  “In the rafters.”

  “What? I can’t see.”

  The drumming stopped and the boys’ heads snapped back toward the fire. Three men with live snakes wrapped around their necks came out of the darkness, carrying sticks with what looked like bloody hunks of meat impaled on the ends. When they got closer to the fire, Kiran got a better view. His hand flew to cover his mouth. “Those are human heads!”

  His stomach dropped and his knees buckled beneath him, but he couldn’t look away. He grabbed hold of Pel to keep his balance. Pel swayed. Kiran glanced at him. His face had gone pale. Kiran turned back, drawn to the gruesome scene.

  The head-bearers marched toward the fire, dipped the heads in buckets of blood, and raised them high in the air, letting the runoff flow over their bare chests and the snakes that hung there, then swung around in circles, spattering everyone with blood. Men and women alike pushed and shoved in a melee, grabbing at the heads in a bloodthirsty passion, licking the blood that dripped from them.

  Kiran’s stomach squeezed and he bent over and vomited in the grass. He stood up, light-headed.

  “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?” Pel whispered.

  Kiran swallowed hard, the taste of bile burning in his throat. “What?” A man had ahold of a bloodied woman and was dragging her into the bushes. Another man grabbed a squealing young woman around her waist and carried her off in another direction. Before Kiran could answer Pel, a headhunter with a woman in his arms was headed right for them.

  Kiran took a step back and stumbled. He got to his feet and right before him was the headhunter, clamping his sharp teeth over his tongue in a frenzied ecstasy, a bloody froth on his lips. The headhunter saw Kiran and stopped dead, his wild eyes fixed on him. They stared at one another. Kiran’s heart pounded in his ears.

  “Misu,” the man gasped. He shoved the woman toward Kiran and fled, shouting, “Misu! Misu!”

  “Run!” Pel yelled.

  Kiran spun around and ran as fast as he could, blindly crashing through the forest. “Roh, Roh!” he yelled. “Push off! We have to go!”

  When Kiran burst out of the forest, Roh was ready, pole in hand.

  “What happened?” he asked, shoving them out as Kiran jumped on board. Pel was right behind him, knocking branches out of his way.

  “Go, go, go!” is all Kiran could get out as he fell to his knees, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “They’re right behind us,” Pel shrieked, plowing through the water to get onboard.

  Jandon sat up, awakened by the noise. “What the blazes?”

  Deke moaned and tried to sit up.

  Kiran felt something fly by his face. For a moment, he thought it was a bird. Then he heard the thwack as a tiny arrow hit and stuck in the raft.

  “Holy god of war! They’re shooting darts at us!” Pel cried, trying to crawl under their packs.

  “Get down!” Roh commanded.

  Kiran tried to crouch over Bria to protect her from the arrows, but she jumped to her feet and grabbed the other pole.

  “Get down, I’ll get it,” he said.

  “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” Her hands gripped the pole.

  A shrill whoop, loud and clear, ripped through the forest, then excited voices, guttural clicks and chirps. The headhunters were running along the riverbank. The jungle was hushed into silence, as if every living creature sensed the danger.

  Thwack! Thwack! More darts hit the raft.

  “Can’t you go any faster?” cried Pel.

  Roh froze where he stood, staring at Pel, wide-eyed.

  “What’s the matter with you? Go!” Pel yelled.

  Roh’s knees crumpled and he slumped onto the raft.

  Jandon grabbed the pole as it slipped from Roh’s hands. The raft caught in the current and careened around a bend.

  Kiran rolled Roh over on his back. A dart was stuck in the side of his neck. Kiran grabbed hold and yanked it out. “He’s barely breathing,” he cried. “What’s wrong?” Kiran turned to Pel who stared, speechless. “What happened?”

  “It’s poison,” Pel finally said.

  “Poison?” Kiran fell back on the raft, hardly able to breathe. “What do we do?”

  “Uh…” Pel tugged at his hair, grasping for thoughts.

  Kiran grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, shouting, “What do we do? You know. I know you know!”

  “Salt. I think salt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, yes. Salt.”

  Kiran ripped the ties from the packs, grabbing for his own. He dumped out the contents, searching for the pouch. “Here it is!” He tore the pouch open. “What do we do with it?”

  Pe
l stared at him, eyes blank.

  “What do we do with the salt!”

  “Rub it on the wound.”

  Kiran took a handful of the salt and put it to Roh’s neck. Roh lay limp. “He’s stopped breathing.”

  “We have to give him breath.”

  “What?”

  “Breath. The poison, it, it, it steals your breath. You have to help him breathe.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s all I know. He, he needs air.”

  Kiran took Roh’s head in his hands and blew into his mouth. “The air is just coming back out his nose.”

  “Well, plug his nose,” Bria urged.

  Kiran pinched Roh’s nose closed and blew into his mouth once more, watching as his chest rose and fell. He took another breath and did it again. “How many times?” he asked Pel.

  Pel shook his head.

  No one spoke a word as Kiran blew air into Roh’s mouth, feeding him breath after breath as they floated down the river under the dark cover of night.

  Finally, Bria took Kiran by the arm. “Kiran, it’s no use.”

  “I’m not going to let him die!” he cried, then blew another breath into Roh’s mouth. And then another. And then another until finally Roh sputtered and gasped and breathed on his own.

  “Wha…” Roh wheezed.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Kiran said, sitting back. “Just breathe.” He kept his hand on Roh’s chest, monitoring every breath.

  The hum of chittering bugs had returned, the sign of a calm, peaceful night in the jungle.

  “I think we’ve outrun them,” Jandon whispered.

  Kiran couldn’t let go of Roh. He’s all right, he told himself, and started to shake.

  At the first hint of dawn, Roh broke the silence. “Thank you,” he whispered to Kiran.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” Kiran said. “You gave us quite a scare.”

  “I could hear you talking. I could see you. I just couldn’t move a muscle. It was eerie,” he said with a shudder. “Then everything went black. What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Kiran said. From the end of the raft, he plucked a wooden dart. It was no longer than his hand with red feathers on the end. He turned to Pel. “But I bet Pel does.”

  Pel shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying. You’ve been lying to us from the beginning.” He grabbed Pel by the collar and held the arrow in his face. “You tell me right now. Tell me what you know.”

  “I’ve told you everything,” Pel cried, his eyes focused on the arrow.

  “How did you know about the poison? How do you know their language?”

  Deke started to shake violently.

  “He’s delirious,” Jandon said, dropping his pole to take hold of Deke. “I can’t hold him down. We need to get him off the raft.”

  “I’ll pull over there,” Bria said. She dug the pole into the river bottom, turning the raft toward a sandbar.

  Kiran let go of Pel and jumped into the water to help.

  By the time they got the raft pulled ashore, Deke was thrashing about, drool oozing from his mouth.

  Bria sat next to him, wiping sweat from his forehead and trying to cool him with a wet cloth.

  Kiran turned back to Pel. “You can start by telling us what is wrong with him.”

  “How should I know?”

  “I want the truth. Right now. Or we’re leaving you here. Alone.”

  Pel shrank where he stood.

  Deke’s convulsions started to subside. Bria called to Kiran. “He’s asking for you.”

  Kiran glared at Pel, and as he turned away, said, “I expect answers.”

  He went to Deke’s side. “What, Deke? What is it?”

  “Maybe…” Deke gasped for air. He gripped the edge of the raft with his right hand. “Maybe it was…the water,” he wheezed. His eyes rose to meet Kiran’s and, for one instant, his whole heart was revealed—he had doubts, too. Faster than a thought, the shadows claimed him again. Spasms wracked his body.

  “It’s all right, Deke. It will be all right.” There was nothing left to do. As sure as the sun sets every night, life was leaving him.

  When the convulsions subsided, Deke lifted his eyes again, determined to tell Kiran something more. “You…” He swallowed hard, and drew in a deep breath, the rattle echoing in his chest. “You…” His eyelids fluttered and shut.

  Kiran drew in a breath and held it, fearing the worst. But Deke was still alive, the low, course rattle of his breath the only sign. “Stay with me now.”

  Deke’s head flopped to the side, his breathing a raspy moan.

  Kiran looked over his shoulder to the others who hovered there. “There must be something,” he whispered.

  They stared back at him with blank expressions.

  He turned back to Deke. Something was terribly wrong. Spit bubbles had formed in cracks at the sides of his mouth. Kiran lowered his head to Deke’s chest. There was no heartbeat. But it couldn’t be. He flipped his head over to listen with his other ear. Nothing. He pulled away. He grabbed Deke by the shoulders and shook him. He let go and Deke slumped to the ground with a thump.

  Deke was dead.

  Chapter 25

  “We have to bury him,” said Bria.

  Jandon glared at her. “But we don’t have an Elder to perform the rite.”

  Kiran turned to Roh, but he was gone. He had found high ground and was on his knees, digging with a stick.

  Pel’s eyes darted up and down the river. “Whatever you do, you better make it quick. I’ll go help Roh,” he said and scampered off through the brush.

  Jandon paced in circles, tugging at his hair. “But we don’t have the funerary pole. Or the blessed seeds.”

  Kiran sat on the edge of the raft, staring at Deke’s lifeless body. He knew he should feel something—sad, upset, angry—something. But he just felt numb. “Jandon, it’s all right,” he said, searching his mind for something. “Aldwyn told me once that the rite could be performed without the seeds,” he lied. “And any pole will do. It’s the…” he glanced around the forest, then down at Deke, looking for inspiration, “it’s the manner in which his arms are folded that is most important.”

  “Really?” Jandon seemed to calm.

  “Yes, and we must be sure he faces the setting sun.”

  Jandon nodded, pacified.

  Bria took hold of Deke’s arms and laid them across his heart. “There is something here,” she said. She reached inside the collar of his tunic, tugged at the cord at his neck, and pulled out a Pyletar. She looked up at Kiran with a questioning expression.

  “That must be his father’s,” said Jandon.

  Bria slipped it from around Deke’s neck and handed it to Jandon. “You hold on to it,” she said.

  Jandon’s mouth dropped open. Toran custom was to leave a body as it lay. Removing anything from a corpse was not done.

  “We’ll return it to Elder Morgan when we get back home,” Kiran said.

  “Fine,” Jandon said, taking the Pyletar. He shifted from one foot to the other. “Then don’t you think…?”

  “What?” asked Bria.

  “The stones his father gave him.”

  Bria ran her hands along the seams of Deke’s tunic and found where they had been tucked into a seam. Kiran got his knife from his pack and handed it to her. She slit open the fabric and they fell into her hand. “There are scribe marks etched on the surface. What do you make of it?” Bria asked, handing the stones to Kiran. “Doesn’t that look like writing?”

  Kiran examined them closely. “I see the marks, but I don’t know what they mean.” He looked at Jandon.

  “He said his father told him to find more, as many as he could.” Jandon shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

  “Well, you should hold on to them,” Bria said to Kiran. “Maybe the words will come to you.”

  Roh appeared by his side. “The ground is too wet to dig very deep.”

&
nbsp; Jandon started shaking his head. “How can Deke be dead? He was the Seventh Elder. Wasn’t he? How can this be happening? There’s no hope. It’s all over.” He glared at Roh. “We need to turn back and head home.”

  Bria looked to Jandon and back to Kiran. “Maybe he’s right,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

  Jandon slumped to the ground next to Bria and put his arm around her. She leaned into him and he held her as she cried. A fire exploded in Kiran’s head. He raced up the bank to Deke’s grave, his stomach churning. He hated himself for what he had done, for losing her the way he had. He dropped to his knees, took the stick in hand, and struck the mud, again and again, gouging the bottom of the hole.

  Roh came along side him. “I already told you—” He stopped short, looked back toward Jandon and Bria, then sat down next to the grave. “Listen, Kiran. Everyone is upset right now, but we’re not turning back. We need to bury him and move on.” He scanned the forest as he spoke. “We are not alone. Remember?”

  Kiran let out his breath. Roh was right. He tossed the stick aside and slumped down next to Roh. He stared into the grave they had dug. “But without Deke—”

  “Deke wasn’t meant to go any farther.”

  Kiran turned to face Roh. “How can you say that? We don’t even know if we are going the right way.”

  “We’re going the right way.”

  Kiran paused, studying Roh’s expression. “How can you be so sure? The Script is so vague. What if we get there and we don’t find the Voice? Pel comes from the sea and he doesn’t know of the Voice. How can that be? Something’s not right.” He sighed. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “It doesn’t matter what we think. What matters is what we do.” He got to his feet and shook the muddy leaves from his trousers. “Your problem is that you think faith is about believing in something.” He offered his hand. “We were sent to do something and we are going to do it.” Kiran took his hand and Roh pulled him to his feet.

  Kiran stared at him. “What is faith then, if not belief?”

  Roh smiled. “Perseverance, my friend,” he said, patting Kiran on the shoulder. “Perseverance.”

  Together, they went back to the sandbar and took hold of Deke’s body. Roh lifted under his arms and Kiran lifted his legs. Jandon and Bria walked on either side, helping to hold him up as they shuffled up the riverbank and laid his body in the shallow grave.