The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

  Pel had gathered a pile of branches and palm fronds. Together, the young Torans placed them over the grave, then stood with their arms crossed, staring at the mound.

  “What do we do now?” Jandon said, his voice a whimper.

  Pel shifted uneasily on his crooked leg, his eyes swerving through the forest.

  “I know the funeral verse,” said Bria.

  Jandon glared at her. “What? How? You’re not an Elder. You don’t speak the Tongue of the Father.”

  Roh put his hand on Jandon’s shoulder. “Let her speak,” he said.

  “No!” Jandon dropped to the ground next to Deke’s grave, hugging himself, rocking back and forth. “We have strayed too far! This is wrong, all wrong. Women do not pray!”

  “Um,” Pel looked over his shoulder. “You’re being awfully loud.”

  Jandon glared at Pel. “We’re all going to die!” He jumped up and shouted in Pel’s face, “We’re going to die! We’re going to starve to death because of you!”

  Pel shrank back, shaking his head. “But I told you not to come this way. I told you.”

  Roh stepped between them. “What’s done is done.” To Jandon, he said, “Right now, we need to get moving.”

  Pel nodded, relieved.

  Roh shook his head, jabbing his finger in Pel’s chest. “You’ll tell us all you know or we’ll pull over and leave you alone in the jungle like Kiran said. Do you understand?”

  Pel’s face fell. He nodded and headed to the raft.

  Back on the river, Kiran took the pole in hand, his focus on the river ahead. Roh stood next to him, working his pole to avoid a rock, while Jandon and Bria clung to the raft, looking back to where Deke lay in an unmarked grave.

  Once the raft was moving in the current, Roh turned to Pel. “Now speak.”

  “I was, uh…” He chewed on his lower lip. “I was taught a few words of their language and other stuff.”

  “What do you mean? Who taught you their language?”

  “I was sent here, to teach the Widhu proper worship of the true gods. But I didn’t want to.” He fidgeted with the straps on the bags. “I just wanted a way out.”

  “Out of what?”

  Pel slumped in resignation. “My father made me join the Order. But the men there…” His face soured. “I just wanted out. So I volunteered. It was the only way. They gave me what I needed to travel.” He sat up straight, his eyes wide. “I was supposed to live with them. Can you imagine?”

  “But you never did?”

  “No way. You saw. They are savage killers. I’m not crazy.”

  “So, you’ve never met them before?”

  “No. I just know what I was taught, which wasn’t much. There was a man who made contact with them and survived. He was part of the Order. We learned from him, but he wasn’t right, in the head, you know.”

  Kiran nodded. “Last night, the headhunter was scared when he saw me. Why? What did he say?”

  “Oh,” Pel giggled. “He thought you were an evil spirit.”

  “An evil spirit? Why in the world would he think that?”

  “Dunno, but I’m sure that was the word he said.”

  There was a long silence.

  “That’s all I know. I swear it,” Pel cried.

  Kiran looked at Roh and they nodded in silent agreement. Pel was telling the truth.

  “Now what do we do?” Jandon said. “This is hopeless. We’re going to die out here in this forsaken jungle.”

  That’s a good question, Kiran thought, staring off into the endless green, his stomach cramping from hunger. On the muddy bank, he spotted a woody pod. “Stop!” he shouted. “Pull over.”

  Roh pulled ashore on a patch of sand. Kiran leaped from the raft and ran back along the shoreline to find the pod. He picked it up and examined its tough, woody exterior. It was heavier than he expected, as heavy as a rock of the same size. He glanced around, searching for a way to crack it open. He placed the pod against the base of a tree and struck it with his foot. It took four strikes before the hard shell cracked open. He picked it up and pried the two halves apart. Inside were hearty nuts, nestled in the shell like the slices of an orange.

  The others had secured the raft and were watching him. He held the pod out for everyone to see. “We are not going to die,” he said, smiling. “We can eat these nuts.”

  “Hold on,” said Roh. “How do you know they’re safe?”

  “Don’t you see?” Kiran said as he worked to smash the shells off the individual nuts. “We don’t have to meet the Widhu, or talk to them, to learn from them.”

  Bria and Roh exchanged curious glances.

  “At the Widhu camp, there was a pile of these shells in their cooking area. They must be edible. There were also leaves of that cabbage-like plant. We’ve seen it all along the riverside. And remember the baskets where you found the fish? There was a hole on one end. They must have been some kind of fish trap. We can fish.”

  Jandon took a handful of the nuts and chucked them in his mouth. “They’re good.”

  “We will survive,” Kiran said, smashing open the rest of the nuts for everyone to eat. “And we are going to make it.” He craned his neck back and scanned the canopy. “Jandon. I think the pod came from that tree, the tallest one. Do you see?”

  Jandon tilted his head back.

  “Find more of those trees and you will find more nuts,” Kiran said. “Can you do that? Gather as many as you can.”

  Jandon nodded and headed out, stumbling through the forest, his eyes on the treetops.

  Kiran turned to Bria, handing her some nuts to eat. “Do you think you could make a fish trap like the one we saw?”

  She nodded. “I can try.” She left to collect the grasses she would need.

  “Pel,” Kiran continued. “Why don’t you take the waterskins and look for water. In the trees, a stream, wherever you can find it without roaming out of earshot. We can’t always count on the rain.”

  “Will do,” Pel said, his head bobbing as he hobbled to get the waterskins.

  Kiran turned to Roh. “We need to keep moving. Would you please check the roping on the raft, make sure it is sound?”

  Roh nodded, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

  Together, they walked back to the raft where Roh declared the roping secure and went to help Pel. Kiran sat down on the edge of the raft, took the Script from his pack, and read it through once more. It spoke of the river, a crossroads, then an upward struggle. He was sure that was what it said. But how could that be? Rivers don’t travel upward. Were they to leave the river then? But where?

  He dwelled on the line: Drink of it and be merry, for it is your salvation.

  Jandon staggered toward him, holding up the edges of his tunic which was filled with the nut-pods. He got to the raft and let go. The nuts tumbled into the sand with a clatter of thumps.

  “You found some. This is fantastic,” Kiran said as he rolled up the scroll and tucked it back in his pack.

  A smile returned to Jandon’s face. “There are a few more. I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Bria arrived with an armload of twigs and grasses. She plopped down on the edge of the raft and started to weave the pile into a fish trap. “I think this might work,” she said.

  “I know it will,” he told her.

  She had him hold several twigs so she could wrap the grasses and get the base started. Roh and Pel emerged from the jungle, waterskins in hand. “We found a trickle of a stream,” Pel reported. “All are full and ready to go.”

  Roh and Pel helped Kiran bag the nut-pods and tie them to the raft. Jandon returned with a few more. He held one up and cheered, “The Great Father provides!”

  “And Kiran has the Script to guide us,” Bria said with a smile, the first Kiran had seen in days. “The Great Father watches over us.”

  Kiran stared at them, trying to make sense of their renewed faith. Was this what Roh meant? Faith was simply to persevere? Is that what they were doing?

/>   But Deke’s faith had never wavered. He followed the Way, without question. As the Script commanded, he had drunk from the river. But now he lay in his grave. How could that be? Guilt weighed on Kiran like a huge stone. If only he had argued more, made him understand Manu-amatu’s warning. But he had known Deke would not bend. His conviction was not shallow; it was ingrained in him, a part of him. Nothing could have saved him from it.

  Now they were on the river, and at the fork, had taken the way less traveled, just at the Script directed. But were they meant to? If not for the Script, they’d have no direction at all. Then which way would they have gone?

  Kiran picked up one of the nut pods and rolled it in his hands. Had the Great Father provided the food, now, in their time of need, or was it here all along and they hadn’t seen it because of their own failings, their sheer ignorance of the jungle?

  Jandon slapped Kiran on the back. “To the Voice of the Father!” he cheered. “The headhunters are behind us now. Everything will be all right!”

  Kiran offered a faint smile and looked away.

  With their bags loaded with food, they shoved the raft back into the flow of the river and climbed on board. Kiran laid his head back, closed his eyes, and listened to the solemn tones of the river flowing around branches that dipped in the current, wishing he could feel as sure.

  Near dawn the next morning, the terrain changed abruptly; the river narrowed and the jungle walls crowded in around them. Before they realized, they were rushing through a tunnel of rock with white waves crashing over the raft, pummeling them from all directions.

  Pel grabbed hold of the raft with a shriek.

  “Here we go again,” said Roh.

  “Just hold on,” Kiran told Pel.

  The river turned sharply and the raft rode up the side of a rock wall. Bria slipped and Kiran reached for her. Together they were washed off the raft and into the roiling river. Kiran kept hold of her skirt as they were swept through the roaring rapids. He desperately grabbed at branches and vines at the river’s edge. But the force of the water was too strong, and the branches snapped in his hands. The current spun them round and round, then dragged him to the bottom, ripping Bria from his grasp.

  Then the river dropped beneath him and he was falling, weightless, the water pushing him downward in a long agonizing drop until he plunged into a churning abyss and all went black.

  Kiran tasted sand, gritty on his tongue. He lay face down, the roar of falling water pounding in his ears, his soggy clothes heavy on his back. He tried to lift his head, but the world started to spin. A few more breaths. He lifted his head again and tried to focus. What happened? The raft. He and Bria had slipped off the raft. Bria! He sat upright. Pain shot through his temples. He slumped back down, taking a breath. In his left hand was a torn swatch of fabric. Her skirt. He had to find her. He lifted his head again and the pain throbbed in his veins. A few more breaths.

  He opened one eye. There was movement, someone there. He tried to raise his head again, but gave up, lying back down on the sand. Someone walked around. People. No. Was he dreaming? He rolled over on his side for a better view. Monkeys. Giant monkeys, the size of humans, walking upright. Six or seven of them. Two were hunched at the edge of the river, reaching for something in the water. Kiran lay still, watching, trying to focus. Above the sound of pounding water, he heard a noise behind him and rolled over to look. At the waterfall, a large male grunted and swayed back and forth from foot to foot, his movements a rhythmic dance. He picked up a rock and threw it into the water, then let out a high-pitched hoot and, in three quick steps, was up the side of the waterfall. He grabbed a vine and swung out into the spray. The monkey-man launched from the vine, grabbing at branches as he swung back downward, and continued his dance on the shoreline, passing by Kiran, circling round and round until finally he plopped down on a rock and looked up, staring into the cascading water. Kiran recognized the look in his eyes. He had seen it before: when the followers attended worship in the temple, when the Lendhi gathered around Manu-amatu, when the Kotari gazed upon the Guardian.

  A smaller one of the creatures, a child it must have been, crept toward Kiran, its knuckles on the ground, walking on all fours. The child sat in the sand next to Kiran and swirled a twig in the water. She paused, looking at Kiran with curious, brown eyes, her face so like a human’s Kiran couldn’t believe his own eyes. She poked him with the twig. He stared back at her. She held his gaze and Kiran saw intelligence, like his own. These were no ordinary animals. The creature before him was a thinking, cognizant being. She poked him again. Was she prodding him to get up?

  Behind her, the others were moving back and forth from the riverside, their gait awkward and stumpy, their long arms swinging. They were carrying something. The nuts. They were carrying the nuts away. Our nuts. Kiran pushed himself up on his knees. At his movement, all heads turned his way. The large male leapt to his feet and charged toward Kiran, running on all fours, shrieking. Kiran froze. The animal was nearly on top of him when he veered off and grabbed hold of a tree trunk and swung around the base, shrieking and grunting. He thrashed through the brush, shaking branches and grabbing sticks, throwing them at Kiran as he stamped at the ground with his feet.

  Kiran sat stone still. He didn’t know what else to do.

  Something behind Kiran caught the male’s attention. At once, all the monkey-men turned and scampered off, disappearing into the forest.

  Kiran swung around, causing his head to spin again.

  “Are you all right?” It was Roh.

  He closed his eyes a moment to stop the dizziness. “Yes, yes,” he answered. “I think I hit my head. Are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes. Bria and Jandon were with Roh. He felt such relief that he closed his eyes again and slumped back down on the sand. Bria rushed to his side. “You’re not all right,” she said.

  He pushed himself up to sitting position. “I’m fine,” he said, gazing into her worried eyes.

  “Where’s Pel?” asked Roh.

  Kiran looked around. “I don’t know. What happened?” He rubbed his temple.

  “We went over the waterfall, that’s what happened,” Jandon said, his voice a higher pitch than usual.

  “There he is,” said Roh. At the bottom of the falls, Pel lay sprawled over a piece of wreckage that spun in a torrent of angry water. The raft was smashed to splinters on the rocks around him.

  Jandon gasped. “The raft! It’s gone. Broken to bits!”

  Roh was already fighting the surging water, heading toward Pel. Bria was right behind him. Together, they towed the wreckage from the roiling water, dragging Pel to shore. He was barely conscious. They placed him on the sand next to Kiran. Bria slapped his cheeks, trying to revive him.

  His eyes blinked open and he looked up at her. “By the gods, I’m alive!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. “You people are crazy!” He frantically brushed sand from his clothes as though trying to regain some composure.

  Bria’s eyes grew wide. Roh roared with laughter, his hand at his stomach. Kiran had never heard him laugh with such abandon and he started to laugh, too. Pel stared at them with disbelief, then plopped down on the sand and giggled like a little girl. Then they were all laughing. Jandon howled until tears came to his eyes. For a long, glorious moment, Kiran forgot they were stranded in this forlorn jungle.

  “What are we going to do now?” Bria asked.

  “I don’t know,” Roh replied, unable to contain his chuckles.

  Kiran gave in to another round of laughter, snorting and crying. “Thanks, by the way, for scaring off the monkey-men,” he said, trying to get himself together. “I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “Monkey-men?” Jandon stared, eyebrows raised. He launched into another bout of chortling laughter.

  “You didn’t see them?” Kiran looked to Roh.

  Roh shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. “How’s your head?”

  “My head is fine.” Kiran ran his fingers through
his hair. “I saw these creatures. Giant monkeys that walked like men.” He got up and moved to the rock where the monkey-man had been sitting. “They were right here,” he pointed toward the ground. “It was amazing, actually. I think they worship the waterfall.”

  “Worship? Animals?” Jandon scoffed. “You must have clobbered your head pretty hard.”

  “Well, they were intelligent enough to take our nuts.”

  “What?” Pel jumped to his feet. “Where?”

  Kiran gestured toward the woods. “That way.”

  Roh grabbed Pel by the arm. “Hold on, chatter pants. Not so fast. They could be dangerous. Besides, now that we know what to look for, we can find more.” He gestured toward the pile of wreckage. “We need to gather our things and determine what we’ve lost.”

  As suddenly as they had begun, they stopped laughing and got to their feet, sober and fully aware of their situation. Roh started to untangle the ropes from the pile of wreckage.

  Kiran looked up and saw his pack, hanging by the strap, snagged on a jagged rock near the top of the waterfall. He staggered back a step and sat down on the rock. As soon as he sat down, he saw it; arced across the center of the falls, suspended in the mist, was a shimmering rainbow.

  “Come, look at this,” he called to the others.

  They gathered around him. “It’s a sign from the Great Father,” said Jandon.

  Bria smiled at Kiran. “Everything will be all right,” she said. Her eyes held his for a long moment.

  “I knew we’d have to go a different way eventually,” Kiran said.

  “Look,” Roh whispered. “Your monkey-man.”

  On the edge of the forest, the male crouched on all fours, peering at them through the foliage.

  “Look at those eyes,” Bria said. “He’s beautiful.”

  Suddenly, the creature jerked up on his hind legs, standing fully erect, his head turned downriver. He held there for moment, turning his head, first this way, then that, as though trying to locate a sound. His eyes grew large and he dropped to all fours and was gone.