The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy)

by Kimberli Bindschatel

  Aurora noticed Jandon had emptied his bowl. “Have more,” she said. “We have plenty.”

  Jandon hesitated, looking over the food on the table. “Do you have any meat?”

  She replied with a gentle smile. “We nourish our bodies with the fruits of the forest, not the flesh of another living being.”

  “Huh?” Jandon curled up his lip, confused by her answer.

  “If we harm one, we harm all. So, you see,” she turned to look into Kiran’s eyes, “if you mean no harm, you are safe here. You have nothing to fear.”

  Kiran held her gaze. He liked this woman and this peaceful abode. She seemed kind and genuine. In some inexplicable way, she belonged here in the trees, somehow a part of this place, as though she embodied the essence of the forest itself. He felt he could trust her. But how could he know for sure?

  “You are tired, I can see.” She was looking at Bria who was fighting to keep her eyes open. “Let me offer a place to rest. We can talk in the morning.”

  “No. Thank you,” said Kiran. “Really. If we could just refill our waterskins and be on our way, we’d be most grateful.” He wanted to get his feet planted firmly back on the ground and move on.

  Bria looked to Kiran and nodded. She tried to get to her feet, but slumped back down again. Aurora glanced at Kiran, but said nothing. When Jandon rose, his pant leg was bunched around his thigh, revealing his injured ankle.

  “My, that is a serious wound,” Aurora said.

  Jandon whipped his eyes toward her and bent to shove down his pant leg.

  “Let me take you to our healer. I’m sure she can help.”

  Kiran’s stomach tightened. “No—” he caught himself, “I mean, we’d prefer to stay together. We’ll all go.” He took Bria by the hand and helped her to her feet.

  “As you wish,” Aurora said. “Your journey has been a difficult one. No doubt you have met many who were… unkind.” She placed her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. “We are not them.”

  Kiran turned to Bria. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, her hair was a tangled mess, and she slouched where she stood. “Thank you,” he said, managing a smile. “I don’t mean to offend. You are most gracious, though we are strangers.”

  “Who is a stranger but a friend we have yet to meet,” she said, her warm smile melting his resolve. “Perhaps it would be better to summon the healer here, in the morning, after you’ve had a good night’s rest.”

  Kiran nodded.

  She took Jandon by the arm and helped him across a suspended walkway.

  Kiran hesitated. They must have been fifty feet above the ground. He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the bridge. He was surprised at how solid it felt. Quickly, he made his way across to the other side to another tiny treehouse.

  Hammocks lined with soft, inviting pillows were strung from overhanging branches. “Sleep well, my friends,” she said and slipped away.

  Bria and Jandon crawled into hammocks and were fast asleep. He gazed at Bria, lying peacefully. He ached to embrace her, to take her in his arms and smother her with soft kisses. But he knew she would refuse him; it was as though she’d crossed over to another place, on the other side of a great chasm that Kiran would never be able to reach.

  Of all the things Kiran had done on the journey, he never dreamed he’d sleep cradled in the boughs of a giant tree high above the forest floor. He eased into a hammock and it swayed back and forth, rocking him to sleep.

  In the morning, Kiran lay in the hammock in a drowsy half sleep, listening to a beautiful symphony. The birds of the forest sang together, their melodies woven into a tapestry of sound.

  From across the way, Aurora called out, “Good morning! I hope you have slept well.” She was making her way across the bridge. “I have breakfast for you.”

  “Ah, thank you,” Kiran said. “We very much appreciate your hospitality, and don’t want to be rude, but after the meal, we must really be on our way.”

  “Certainly,” she said as she set a tray on the table. As promised, there were berries and a whole host of nuts and breads and honey.

  Kiran turned to wake Bria. She was gone. His heart leaped into his throat. He spun around. “Where is she?”

  “She asked for a bath. Early this morning.”

  “Where? Take me to her.”

  “But the baths are—”

  “Now! Take me to her now.”

  “Certainly. This way.”

  Just then, Bria came to the top of the stair. He rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m better.” She smiled with her eyes. “I’m better.” She walked past him to the table and sat to eat, her clean scent lingering in the air. He sighed with relief, able to breathe once more.

  Jandon rolled from his hammock and limped across the floor to the table.

  An old woman with a doughy face and soft eyes was ambling across the bridge toward them. “Oh, here is our healer now,” said Aurora. Right behind her, carrying a canvas bag, was one of the giant monkeys Kiran had seen in the jungle. His eyes grew wide.

  Aurora caught his gaze. “There is no need to be alarmed. She won’t hurt you.” She paused. “You have seen others like her before.”

  “We have seen them.” Kiran’s heart started to race. “Is she, is she your slave?”

  “Oh my, no.” Her laughter sounded like the soft twitter of a bird. “These creatures are our cousins. We offer them refuge. The men of the south see only their physical strength.” The creature approached and wrapped her arms around Aurora. “But we know the beauty of their souls. We have found many wandering alone and near starvation, separated from their loved ones by the slavers. We invite them to live here with us. This is Fifi.” Aurora hugged the healer woman, too. “She has taken to our healer and follows her, helping where she can.” The healer nodded her agreement. “We care for them and they for us.” Aurora sighed and gazed out over the railing. “If only it could be that way with all our forest neighbors.”

  Kiran couldn’t take his eyes off the creature. She was just like the ones he had seen at the waterfall, walking with the same awkward gait. When the animal set down the bag, she moved her hands in the air, making a series of odd gestures. Aurora nodded and gestured back.

  “Are you communicating with her?” asked Bria, her eyes bright with curiosity.

  “Yes,” Aurora answered. “They cannot speak like we do. So we use a language of hand signs to communicate. I’ve asked her how her little one is feeling today.” She pointed to a tiny ball of fur held in the creature’s arms. Bria’s face brightened. The animal sat down next to Bria. The baby opened its huge brown eyes and crawled from her mother’s arms into Bria’s lap. Bria giggled with delight. She cradled the babe in her arms and it nuzzled her face, making a little sucking noise. Bria glanced at Kiran, her eyes wide with joy, and he had an overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her.

  “You must stay off it or you may never walk normally again,” the healer told Jandon. “You should rest at least two moons.”

  Kiran spun around with a gasp. “Two moons!” He and Jandon exchanged a look of surprise.

  “Are you sure?” Jandon asked.

  “I suppose we could spare a few days. But two moons,” Kiran mumbled.

  The healer gave Jandon a salve to rub on his ankle and suggested he rest in the hammock.

  Aurora nodded toward the empty waterskins. “I know you are anxious to make preparations. Shall I show you to our well?”

  Kiran looked back to Bria. She was cooing and tickling the baby. He drew in a long breath. The air smelled of fresh spring buds, cool and sweet. He looked back to Aurora. He knew he should be cautious, but something about her reminded him of Kalindria and he felt a pang of regret. He should have trusted her. Not everyone is harmful, he told himself. Listen to your heart. He nodded and picked up the waterskins.

  Once they had descended the vine staircase and were back on the forest floor, Aurora walked beside him. “If you tell them they must go, t
hey will follow you.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not the leader.”

  She nodded. “Nonetheless, they follow you.”

  “They are just tired right now. You were right. They need some rest.”

  “Indeed,” she said. They walked on in silence over green moss. Kiran reached down to touch it, to feel the soft, velvety texture.

  “It is a great burden, being a leader,” Aurora said, her voice faraway.

  He plopped down on the moss and looked up at her, surprised. “You’re the leader of the Weikaito? But you’re—”

  “I’m what?” She smoothed the front of her tunic. “Not dressed for the role?” She laughed. “I am no different from anyone else. Yet, they look to me for answers. They have great faith in me, though I never feel worthy.” As she eased to the ground to sit on the moss beside him, Kiran noticed a glistening pendant dangling from her neck. He had only seen a stone like that once before, the morning before he had left the village.

  “But you must have the answers,” he said. “You carry a magic stone.”

  “Magic?” She took it in her hand and ran her fingers over the smooth surface. “This? No. It’s just a beautiful rock.” She twirled it in the sunlight and it sparkled, flashing different colors. “I carry it as a reminder that, though we think something is clear, if we look from another angle, we might see it differently.”

  Kiran thought he understood. “Everything looks different from the other side, or on a different day, or in a different season.”

  “You speak like a true leader.”

  He didn’t respond. They were Aldwyn’s words, not his own.

  “Most people need to know someone has the answers. In your group, that someone is you.”

  “I’m not even a true Toran,” he mumbled.

  She waited, silent.

  “The Elders didn’t designate a leader. You see,” he paused. “There were seven of us, sent on a pilgrimage. We have been traveling now for eight moons. We, well, we aren’t even sure if we’re on the right path. We had to leave our village in haste. We weren’t prepared. Bria and Jandon are the only ones left.”

  “And you.”

  “But I was only sent to record the journey.”

  “And how do you know this? You were one of the seven sent, were you not?”

  He shrugged.

  She waited for him to go on.

  He looked down at his feet. “I’m the only one who can scribe. Aldwyn taught me in secret. So you see, that must be why I’m here.”

  “Kiran, you have great strength, yet you are humble. You are cautious, yet not afraid to make a decision.” She waited for him to look her in the eyes. “You have the character of a great leader.”

  He felt his cheeks warm.

  “Do not be mistaken: regardless of the intent of your Elders, leaders cannot be designated. Leaders are those whom people choose to follow.” She gestured toward the treetops, toward Bria and Jandon. “They choose to follow you.”

  Kiran gazed back up at the tree for a moment, then rose to his feet. “I was following you to fetch water,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say.

  Down a short path, they came to the well. Rocks had been gathered and stacked to form a shallow pool where water bubbled up from the ground. Encircling the pool were intricate wooden carvings of flower blossoms with multiple layers of petals. “These are beautiful,” he said as he knelt down to fill his waterskin.

  “The water lily is the manifestation of the divine essence. She is born mired in muddy waters, far from the sun. In time, she reaches the light and transforms into a pure white beauty.” Aurora ran her fingers along a petal of one of the carvings and closed her eyes. “She inspires us to seek the light, for that is the greatest aspiration.” She stared into the water, a faint frown lingering at the corners of her mouth and he wondered what she was thinking about that created such a look of sadness in her eyes.

  “Aurora, do you really think…is it possible…what I mean is…I am just an orphan boy, the bastard son of a heathen.”

  “Were.” She gestured for him to rise to his feet. “Look,” she said, her gaze dropping to the water’s surface. “There is wisdom in water.”

  He rose to see his own reflection. He didn’t recognize himself. Before him was not a boy, but a man, weary and drawn.

  Back up into the trees Aurora went and Kiran followed. When he entered the treehouse, the healer was talking with Bria. She had brought crutches for Jandon and he was hobbling across the bridge, trying to get used to them. Kiran paused in the archway.

  Aurora whispered to him, “She will be all right. She is strong.” Kiran turned to face her, feeling transparent, as if she understood his every thought and emotion. “So is your love for her.” He nodded, his eyes returning to Bria. “She will be safe here. Cared for.”

  “It won’t be long and we’ll be on our way.”

  She bowed her head. “Yes, of course.”

  Bria noticed Kiran had returned and ended her conversation with the healer. The woman rose and with a bow turned and followed Aurora down the walkway.

  “Do we have to leave soon?” Bria asked him.

  Kiran hesitated. Aurora was right, he thought. How did this happen? Not so long ago, Bria would have stated her opinion, argued for it. Something had changed in her. Or was it him? Maybe he had become the leader. But did that make him worthy of the robes of an Elder? I’m still a heathen bastard, he thought. Suddenly he felt utterly alone, deep inside, where no one could reach. Bria was right here with him, but he couldn’t talk to her.

  “Did she show you the well?” she asked.

  He nodded. And so much more.

  Late that afternoon, the forest came alive with the soft murmur of rain and the rich scent of green leaves. Two women came across the walkway with two young boys and a baby girl toddling behind. The first woman set down a basket and heaved a sigh. “My, I am getting old. Well, let’s have a look at you.” She twirled her finger, gesturing for them to turn around. Bria, Jandon, and Kiran did as she directed. “This should do.” She handed Jandon a fresh tunic and sifted through her basket for another one for Kiran.

  The other woman held a pair of short cropped pants up to Bria. “Hmmm,” she muttered, dropping the pants back in her basket and riffling through it. “Take these,” she said, holding out another brown pair.

  “This is so kind, but I couldn’t—”

  “Oh, don’t you worry now. We share and share alike.” She gave Bria a gentle nudge. “Go on, now. Try them on.”

  Bria went behind a dividing wall to change and emerged with a bright smile. “I’ve never worn pants before.”

  “Ah, well,” said the woman. “I’m glad you are delighted.”

  “Come along now,” the first woman said. “Everyone is gathering for the banquet.”

  “Banquet?” Kiran shook his head. “Thank you, but we don’t want to impose.”

  “Impose?” said the woman with a chuckle. “You misunderstand. The celebration is in your honor.” She paused. “To welcome you to the Weikaito forest.”

  “Oh,” he said. Kiran, Bria, and Jandon shared a surprised look and turned back to the women, smiling and nodding.

  The kitchens and dining hall were built on the ground with smooth stone floors, a stone fireplace, and half walls to protect the forest from fires. The entire Weikaito community had gathered, nearly one hundred and twenty of them, the air abuzz with greetings and gossip, each one anxious to meet the Torans. They lined up to shake their hands and pat their backs. Two young boys with identical blond curls were hopping in line, piping, “My turn! My turn!”

  Jandon whispered to Kiran, “They must not get visitors often.”

  There were too many faces to remember and the women’s and the men’s clothing was practically identical—white tunic, brown knickers. Among them, Kiran counted eighteen monkey-men, and just as Aurora had said, they were part of the family.

  A robust soup of roasted mushrooms and leeks was served wit
h warm bread. It felt good to be among people again, laughing and talking. On a raised platform, a boy played a wooden flute and a girl strummed an instrument similar to the lyre of Kiran’s village. The Weikaito ate and drank and sang along with festive cheer, clearly happy to have a reason to host a party. Kiran imagined, had they had a farewell banquet in the village, it would have been like this one.

  A song ended and the flute-playing boy announced to the crowd, “And now, for our guests, The Ancestor’s Footprints.” He launched into a vibrant, catchy jig. The people cheered and clapped to the beat. The lyrics spoke of the beauty of the landscape—the plants, rocks, sand, water holes. Kiran hummed along, enjoying himself.

  For the rest of the evening, he danced and sang, relaxing in the company of the kind-hearted folk.

  When the festivities finally came to a close, and the Torans returned to their room and readied for bed, Bria sat down next to Kiran. “I like it here,” she said.

  “Me too,” he said, the Footprints song still playing in his head. “Me too.”

  Two days later, after the morning breakfast, Aurora called for Kiran.

  “I have a gift for you,” she said, smiling.

  “A gift? But you’ve already done so much.”

  “It has been my pleasure. Come. I want you to meet someone as well.” Kiran, curious now, followed after her, across the branch bridges from one treehouse to the next, through the intertwined canopy they called home. They came to a large house he hadn’t yet visited, high above the others with a stunning view of the valley. “Salista,” she called as they entered. “I’ve brought Kiran.”

  Kiran’s eye roamed, taking in his surroundings. This was not a home but some kind of working area. There were individual tables with candles set on each one.

  Salista shuffled out from behind a shelf. “Ah, yes. Welcome, Kiran.” She was short and plump with a wide smile and small eyes set too close together. “Take a seat,” she said, patting the top of a stool at one of the worktables. Kiran glanced at Aurora. Salista shuffled back behind a wall of shelves and emerged with a wooden box in her arms. She set it on the table in front of Kiran, then heaved herself up onto the stool next to him and crossed her arms, resting them on her belly. “Go on now. Open it.”