“Okay,” Ian blew out a frustrated breath, a headache already brewing in the center of his forehead. “So prepare me.”
Whisper touched the corner of her eye with the tip of the blade. Ian winced, fearing she was about to do something crazy. “The Land of the Dead is a place without light, without sun. And so our eyes must adjust. Do you remember what I told you about the dead traveling to the Western Sun?”
“Yeah.” Ian nodded and craned his neck, trying to see the sun just beyond the mountainside. Then he snapped back against the rock when he realized her intention. “Wait a minute. You mean we have to walk into the goddamn sun?”
“Behind the Western Sun,” Whisper affirmed, for the first time not humored by the look of fear spread across his face. Not even she was looking forward to the next part. “We must go the world on the other side. To prepare ourselves for the Land of the Dead, so that we may see in a world of without light, our eyes must……burn.”
Chapter 12
Pain was something Ian could stand. A broken bone, collapsed lung, concussion, lacerations, an incredible sunburn after landscaping for eight hours straight; yes, he was familiar with pain. A teenage boy doesn’t play three sports all throughout middle and high school without walking away uninjured. When he first began his landscaping business in his early twenties, he became well-acquainted with pulled muscles, cuts and scrapes from branches and thorns, multiple contusions, and a few broken toes or fingers here and there. Blood and bruises were as commonplace as breathing, and most of the time he hadn’t known he was injured until someone else pointed it out.
But this…this would be a whole new kind of pain. Ian wasn’t sure he could handle it, wasn’t sure he could tolerate a pain that he wasn’t able to even begin to fathom. His eyes…burning. The retina searing itself to the iris, corneas melting? A protective film, Whisper had explained, that masks the eye, blinding it to the light, opening it to the dark. His eyes teared up at the thought.
But he would do it. If walking into, or behind, the sun brought him one step closer to finding Cole, then he would do it. He would experience a pain beyond imagination for his son, especially because his son had been forced to experience the same. That was a test he could pass. What worried him, though, was that if the Bridge of the Dead was the first test, and the blinding rays of the Western Sun the second, then the following tests were sure to be much, much worse. And the scariest part about those unknown tests was that he had no idea what they were, but had every idea what was at stake.
“Are you ready?”
Ian shot a sarcastic glance in his guide’s direction. “To have my eyes melt in the blinding light of a huge ball of fire?” He shrugged. “What can I say? The ayes have it.”
After a moment of silence, the corners of Whisper’s mouth tugged up into a rare half-smile. “Was that a joke, Mr. Daivya?”
“Was that a smile?”
An interesting, unexpected way to travel into the Western Sun, Whisper mused as she nodded at her companion. An enemy making her smile, an arrogant stiff cracking a joke, prefacing what may be the worst experience in either of their lives.
Rather than ponder the nature of such things, Whisper reached into the pack strapped to her back and pulled out a thin, sinewy rope. She tied one end around her waist and the other to Ian’s wrist, much to his dismay.
“What’s this for?”
“In case one of us falls behind,” she explained, making sure the knots were tight. “We will be nearly blind until we get beyond the sun, and must help each other if one cannot make it.”
“If we’re blind, then how do we know where to go?”
“The Western Sun draws you in, guides you. Do not resist, and do not lose faith. I will get you to the Land of the Dead.”
Whisper led the way. When they stepped out from the protection of the mountain shadows, Ian’s heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Terror paralyzed him.
The open wasteland stretched out before him in a dry and cracked haze of orange, turbulent winds twisting dust and dirt into an air that scalded and sparked. The ground was barren, the foul trees that rose in towers of ooze and rot seared away into bits of ash that floated with the wind. Viscous bits of tar were strung across the earth, remnants of old shoes that melted off the feet of the dead. And in the distance, the earth, heat rising in bubbling surges, gave way to the Western Sun.
The huge burning sphere arched up into the black sky, shooting crimson flames that left trails of embers across the dark. The bright, white center of the sun glared angrily, churning and pulsating and swallowing whole the wavering figures that inched their way closer and closer. Even from where he stood, Ian had to squint in the harsh light, holding up a hand to protect his vision—a futile gesture. The sun roared its presence, an almost deafening rush that pounded into his ears.
In front of him, Whisper had rolled her cloak into a tight bundle and secured it in her pack. In the light of the sun, her skin was glowing against black tattoos, the black sphere in the center of her shoulder blades mirroring their destination. Her dark hair, tied back in a tight braid, reflected the dozens of crimson hues that smoldered in the blaze. She turned, faced her traveling companion.
“Are you ready?” she asked him again, inspecting him closely. She honestly didn’t know if he could handle the Western Sun. Ian already looked like he was ready to fall over. His dark blonde hair was filthy, matted with blood and coated with a fine layer of ash, as was her own. The left side of his face was red and swollen, and although infection was not a concern in death, pain certainly was. She knew his back was excruciatingly tender, and the flesh on his forearm was in pieces. And his eyes, so charmingly blue at first, were angry, afraid, and untrusting.
“We must go.”
Gathering his wits, Ian nodded and held his head high. He wouldn’t let her see his fear. “Let’s do this.”
Whisper nodded. “Mr. Daivya, would you object to a prayer before we begin?”
He wasn’t a man of religion, but right now he was open to anything that may help him through the journey to find Cole. “By all means.”
The young woman closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the scent of the Western Sun. When she spoke, it was in a soft, hopeful voice that floated in the wind.
“Ulisgolvtanv ayv aisv hawinaditlv uwodu, a le ulisgolvtanv aquvsa digatoli iyuquu higowadv hia gigage a le gigesdi wudeligv.” She opened her eyes and offered Ian a comforting nod. “Let me walk in beauty, and let my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.”
And then, bracing themselves against the harsh winds and bright rays of light, the travelers, one terrified of what was about to happen, the other depressingly accepting of a pain beyond pain, began the long walk into the Western Sun.
Sleeping soundly after the effort it took to send Whisper his urgent message, Smoke Speaker dreamed of his apprentice’s journey into the Western Sun. He had many spies and aides in the Land of the Dead, as well as the world of Waiting, and none of them had reported her passing beyond the sun, or even getting there in the first place.
In his dreams, he worried. Ian was a skeptic that believed only in what he could see for himself, and Whisper was the product of a mother who could not care for her daughter and a father who cared only for himself. While they were both intelligent, strong, and brave, he feared they may be tempted by paths that led down destructive roads. The Land of the Dead was temptation manifested, where even the most courageous succumbed to their worst nightmares.
Whisper had to be close now. Images formed in his mind, enhanced by the power of his sleep, of her tending to wounds sliced across Ian’s back, leading the way to the Western Sun. Even in his slumber he questioned if his visions were accurate or merely suggestions brought on by hope and faith. Either way, he knew she was yet to cross over, and her time was running out.
“Kanegv,” he whispered in sleep, sweat beading on his forehead as his dreams took him to the magnificent sight of the Western Sun. He cou
ld feel its heat, his skin aching from the burn, his eyes tearing up with anticipation.
And there, just on the outskirts, were Whisper and Ian. Their trek was about to begin, and he could only watch until the day awakened him.
Chapter 13
Whisper was right, Ian realized, treading carefully around the cracked earth just a few steps behind the woman. There was a pull, a force that drew him towards the sun, sucking him into a gaping hole of fire. All around them, other lost souls crawled their way into the afterlife, those ahead groaning and screaming and scratching at their faces. The ones who had given up, fallen to the scorched earth, gasped for their last breaths as their flesh charred in the suffocating heat.
Ian watched only his feet, carefully taking one slow step after another. Just in front, he could hear Whisper cough when the wind increased and kicked dirt in her face. This isn’t so bad, he thought as they made their way closer and closer. He was hot, his throat was dry, and his back was sore from the cat attack, but the Western Sun didn’t seem to be threatening anything greater than typical summer temperatures and bright lights he was used to back home.
Then the first tear formed in the corner of his eye.
Ian blinked and shook his head, wiping at more tears as they began to cascade down his dirt-caked cheeks. His eyes stung, reminding him of his childhood days when he spent too much time trying to see underwater in his grandparents’ over-chlorinated pool. He took another step, and his vision went blurry just as a blaze of fire flashed across his retinas. In a moment of panic, Ian grabbed the rope and tugged Whisper back against him. She spun around and slapped his hand away from her waist.
“Keep moving forward!” she shouted at him, her voice tinged with pain, and through his watery gaze he saw, with a horrific rock dropping in the pit of his stomach, that the whites of her eyes had started to…melt. As she glared at him with that familiar look of annoyance and hatred, her deep black irises were slowly disappearing behind thin white veils while thick, cloudy tears poured down her face. Ian knew, both by the sight and the ghastly pain pounding in his head, that his own eyes looked exactly the same.
Whisper faced the sun again and continued the journey, refusing to show any sign of agony. Ian stood, clutching his face, confused by the sensations swirling throughout his eyes, until the rope pulled at him and forced him forward. Soon, only the draw of the sun and the lead of the rope guided him as the pain in his eyes intensified to a level he never would have thought possible. The piercing white rays of the Western Sun dug into his retinas, reaching into the depths of his skull with fingers of jagged spikes that snatched away his sight. The roar of the Sun nearly deafened him.
How could Cole survive this, Ian groaned internally, his own fingers scratching at his face. This was a raw, excruciating hell beyond his own capacity to survive. He couldn’t imagine a child walking across the scorched earth, his burning skin strangely cooled by the thin, waxy goo that melted down cheekbones scarred by seeping wounds crudely patched together for a journey he was never meant to take.
Ian collapsed.
He buried his head in his hands, moaning loudly, letting his fear and exhaustion overcome the drive to save his son. He was blind, terrified, desperate to wake up from what he was sure was some kind of drug-induced stupor. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And he wasn’t alone in his desperation.
The agony tearing apart her mind nearly suffocated her. Whisper struggled to breathe, to put one foot in front of the other, to swallow back the biting nausea creeping into her throat. “Vdadisdelvdi,” she whispered, her mouth moving slightly as the quiet words crawled up the rays of the Western Sun, praying to be led quickly into safety, into Salvation, into the Land of the Dead. She could feel her irises detaching from her eyes, remnants trickling down her cheeks as a white film coated her pupils, and even though she had known what to expect, nothing could ever prepare even the strongest of men and women for the Western Sun.
Whisper nearly gagged when the rope suddenly went taut and dug harshly into her gut. Her legs gave out and she tumbled to the ground, striking her knees against the cracked earth. Her breath all but heaved out of her as she turned, feeling her way back to Ian with her slender fingers lightly trailing the rough and slightly frayed rope.
“Mr. Daivya…you cannot fall behind.” But even as she said the words, her own body threatened to give up.
“Whisper…” He couldn’t say anything more through his parched throat, couldn’t ask for help, couldn’t find the strength to lift himself from the fiery earth, and even in his white blindness he could sense the mocking glare of the Western Sun. He hated being so helpless, and hated even more that his arrogant, smug, and self-righteous guide was witnessing his act of shame.
“Itsula. Together,” she whispered in his ear, her words barely making it past the crackling, popping, and roaring rush of the sun. She locked an arm around his waist, and after a moment he responded by reaching around her back and clasping her arm.
They pushed against one another, unsteadily rising to their feet. Their breath came out in raspy wheezes, their skin beginning to tighten and peel from the heat. They followed the pull of the sun, once nearly tripping over a fallen soul that had given up his hope for eternal salvation, choosing to spend the rest of his lonely eternity on the wrong side of the Western Sun. The lost soul reached out feebly, fingers grazing Ian’s ankle, mouth stretched into a ghastly silent scream, eyes only seconds away from eternal blindness. In another time, another journey, Whisper would have reached out to the fallen, helped him make the last few steps. But now, now she could not let herself worry about those she was leaving behind. There were more important matters at hand.
And then, as if their prayers had been answered, the pain began to fade.
The force of the sun changed, a sensation only Whisper recognized. She loosened her hold on Ian and gently guided him towards the narrow portal just behind the Western Sun. As the bright light weakened ever so slightly, she made out what she could only describe as the slightest of fissures in the air, a black crevice set against the burning crimson and orange that, when she reached out to touch the gateway out of Waiting, was hard and cold as stone. With the faintest of smiles, she took Ian by the hand and guided him through.
In the last, briefest moments of painful sight, the fallen and lost soul doomed to timeless misery saw the two wavering black figures disappear behind the Western Sun, and into the Land of the Dead.
Whether by the magic of the Elder’s dreamcatcher or the sheer exhaustion of the week-long search for her son, Julia awoke refreshed and hopeful after a sleep free of nightmares. She rolled over and stared up at the webbed gift hanging from the top of the tent. The dreamcatcher swayed in a light breeze that drifted in through the screen window, feathers twirling around one another in an elaborate dance of pleasant thoughts.
As she lay beneath the protective craft, Julia imagined her son, remembered the feel of his hugs, the sparkle of his big blue eyes, the sound of his voice. She missed him so much her heart broke every time someone said his name, and she prayed every single minute that he was still alive.
Both her son and husband had been missing now for eight days. Cole was gone because he wandered too far from a safe area, and Ian was gone because Julia had pushed him away. She could admit to her own part of the blame in this mess. The coldness she had shown towards Ian, accusing him of being an irresponsible father, completely disregarding his own feelings, it was no surprise that he had gone into the woods to search for Cole, refusing to come home until he was found. Julia could respect that, but what bothered her still was that he hadn’t gone alone.
The Elder was hiding something, of that much she was sure. He knew more, or his apprentice knew more, than he was letting on, but for some reason Julia trusted him. She didn’t think he was working against them or would do something to hurt her son, but she also wouldn’t bet on him telling her anything. Perhaps he was just a senile old man, or maybe he was something more. Either way, he was
involved, and so was Whisper.
She hadn’t yet told the sheriff about her visit to the Elder two days ago. Something was holding her back, but she didn’t know what. A part of her was still waiting for Ian to come back, and another part was wondering how she could be so blind and naïve. Ian had gone into the woods with a beautiful young woman and hadn’t been back for seven full days. Julia didn’t care what Duff said. Her husband was successful, attractive, and charming, and downright irresistible when he wanted to be.
After getting dressed, Julia stepped out of the tent and was immediately ambushed by her parents, who shoved a plate of bacon and eggs in her face and insisted she sit down to eat. She allowed them to lead her to the picnic table and accepted the glass of orange juice that was offered.
Olivia, who had no more tears to cry and was simply exhausted by the entire ordeal, sat down next to her oldest daughter and rested a hand on her shoulder. “The fog’s not as thick this morning.” She hoped her words had some amount of comfort. “Ray Forbe seems to think that’s a good sign. He’s got a big search party out there right now.”
Julia managed to swallow a mouthful of eggs, washing it down with the juice. “Maybe they’ll find Ian out there.”
Olivia and David exchanged a knowing glance. They’d discussed Ian’s disappearance at length, chalking it up to what they figured to be a cheating husband. The two had suspected marital problems for a few months prior to the vacation, but hadn’t said anything out of respect for their daughter’s privacy. Now, they both found it a little odd that Ian had gone missing as well.
David, being the skeptical and tough military man that he was, had the nagging notion that the reason why Ian had been so eager to disappear into the woods was because he knew more about Cole’s accident than he had admitted to on the first day. And as soon as he got a hold on his son-in-law, he was going to find out just what was going on.
Beyond the Western Sun Page 10
