Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Post a Review
Coming Soon
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Study and Discussion questions
The Path to the Sun
Copyright © 2013 by Kimberli A. Bindschatel
All rights reserved.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For Ken, who believed in my dream
Chapter 1
Kiran leaned out over the ledge, straining to see the bottom of the ravine into which he was supposed to jump. “But I can’t see what’s down there.”
“That’s the point,” said Deke. “It’s the only sure way to prove your faith.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Jandon, leaning over Deke’s shoulder.
Deke shoved him back. “Don’t listen to him. Just do it, you heathen.”
Kiran winced. He hated being called that. “Shut up, both of you! I’m going to jump. I’m just…getting ready.”
Get yourself together, he told himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He took a deep breath and inched closer to the edge of the ravine. A cold shiver ran through him despite the hot sun and the sweat that soaked his tunic. His heart started to race again and the fear and doubt rushed back in. “I shouldn’t have to prove anything,” he muttered. But he did. He wanted so desperately to be accepted as a Toran. He wanted to believe. Why couldn’t that be enough?
“My father says that faith shall set you free,” said Deke. “It’s the path of the righteous.”
Righteous?That’s easy for you to say. You were born with nothing to prove. Deke, son of Morgan, born to be an Elder, like his father, and his father’s father, and his father before him. Not a lowly orphan like me.
“Just jump,” Deke urged. “Are you worthy or aren’t you? It’s that simple.”
Simple. Right. Why did it have to be a cliff? He could outrun most of the other boys. He excelled at the games. But he was cursed with a fear of heights. He closed his eyes again and tried to envision the jump as Deke had described. He would leap off the cliff and experience the rapture of flight. Then the Great Father would catch him in His hands and lower him to safety. So why did he hesitate?
All the Elders had made the jump. Hadn’t they? They must have.
He dug in his pocket for a rock. The dark stone was one of his favorites, but he had nothing else. He tossed it over the edge, and waited, listening. Nothing.
It was a long way down; he knew that much from trudging up the side of Mount Gustavus. Once they found the path to the Sanctuary on the Mount, they had to climb another steep incline before sneaking across the Bridge of Enrapture, the only passage to the sacred retreat of the Elders.
Built many seasons past, long before the Time of Dissension, the suspended bridge stretched across a deep, jagged crevasse. It was made of old, weathered cedar planks tied together by a rope of wool and vine. When he crossed, Kiran told himself over and over not to look down. But as if lured by some unseen power, his eyes were drawn to the river below. What had once been raging white water was now a meager trickle. Exposed rocks jutted upward like the jagged teeth of the legendary Mawghuls that lived in the rocky meadows out beyond the Lost Forest. His stomach squeezed in his throat and set his nerves on fire. If not for that, he would be ready to jump now. He was sure of it.
He leaned back, pressed against the sun-baked rock wall, and closed his eyes. You can do this, he told himself. In his sixteen years, he had never backed down from a challenge, and he wasn’t about to start today. He had to jump. This was his one chance. Usually, there was an Elder here for his time of atonement. But today, the Elders were gathered at the Temple for a special conclave. He couldn’t remember that ever happening before and wasn’t sure it would again. The time was now.
Kiran forced his gaze straight across the chasm to gain some sense of stability. A single brush pine clung to a jagged crevice, its long, slender roots like fingers holding on with a sure grip, its crooked branches bravely reaching out over the ravine. I wish I had your fortitude, he thought. But perhaps you can see what’s below.
He drew in a breath, trying not to think about whether it would be his last. “Please, let it be true,” he whispered. He gulped in air. His hand sprang up to cover his mouth as his gaze shot skyward. Had He heard? Kiran had not uttered a word in the Tongue of the Father, but he had expressed doubt aloud just the same. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? A good Toran does not question.
But he struggled. Whenever the thoughts crept into his mind, he tried to push them aside, to deny them, to focus only on the Truth. If anyone in the village suspected him of doubt, he’d be accused of heresy and banished. He would not let that happen.
He was a real Toran. And he was going to prove it right now. He took another step toward the edge.
“Kiran, wait!” It was Jandon. “The Temple Bells are ringing. We need to go.”
“What?” He glanced back. Deke was gone. “But I was going to jump.”
“C’mon. Another time. We’ve got to go.”
Kiran exhaled. A part of him was relieved, although he knew that if he ever had the chance again, he would be back on the ledge. He kicked at the stones at his feet, spraying them into the air.
He sidestepped along the ledge and stepped down onto solid ground. Jandon was waiting, holding Kiran’s hat out for him.
Jandon nudged him, a sly grin on his face. “You weren’t really going to jump, were you?”
“You, of all people, know I would.” He ran his fingers through his blond curls and flipped the ratty old straw hat onto his head and adjusted the brim so it sat back on his forehead, tipped up the way he liked it.
“You don’t have anything to prove.” Jandon squeezed through a narrow crevice in the rock.
Kiran followed him through and into a stand of pines. “That’s not true,” he said with a huff as he brushed branches aside. “And you know it. Now I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again.”
“I don’t know why you care so much anyway.”
“If only they’d let me go to the Lessons.”
“Not that again. Why would you even want to spend time at the Lessons? All we do is chant, chant, chant. And memorize stories that no farmer has need to know.”
“Jandon, I’ve—”
Jandon stopped short and whirled around
to face him. “Don’t tell me you still dream of being an Elder. You’re crazy. I mean, you’ve got to dedicate your whole life to it.”
“Your problem is you think life is all about chasing girls.”
“Well, isn’t it?”
“I’m going to be an Elder someday. You’ll see!”
Jandon shrugged and turned and kept walking.
“You’ll never understand,” Kiran mumbled. They emerged from the pines near the entrance to the inner sanctum, a shallow cavern in the side of the rock. Kiran brushed needles from his tunic. “What do you think the special conclave is for?”
“How should I know?”
“Well, aren’t you curious?”
“Hopefully, they’ve been holding a prayer vigil. My father says it’s been too dry for a second cutting this year. He’s worried there won’t be enough fodder to overwinter the flocks, especially after tithes. We have to plan the slaughter now. If we have another long winter ahead, we might lose our whole farm.”
“But the Elders pray for good crops all the time. They wouldn’t call a special conclave just for that.”
Kiran glanced around the Sanctuary as if the answer, somehow, lay here for him to find.
Jandon grabbed Kiran by the arm. “Let’s go take a look.”
“No one is allowed except the Elders.”
“C’mon. You know you want to. When will we ever get the chance again?”
“We need to get to the Temple. The bells are ringing.”
“It will just take a moment. We can catch up.”
“I don’t know, Jandon. We weren’t even supposed to cross the bridge.”
“Deke did. So how wrong could it be?”
“But a sin is a sin!” he burst. Deke was supposed to be faithful to the Great Father, devoted to the Way. Half the time, Kiran didn’t know what was right and what was wrong and he was tired of trying to figure it out.
He glanced over his shoulder. Through the ivy-covered archway, the solitary entrance to the inner sanctum, he could see Deke running across the Sanctuary meadow, straight toward the path that led back to the village. Resentment rose in him and his stomach started to churn. It’s not fair, he thought. Deke lived by different rules. “Let’s make it quick,” he said.
He was surprised to find the most sacred place of the Elders so plain and simple. There was a straw mat near the back for sleeping, a kneeling board, and a single candle burned down to a nub. At the cavern entrance, a depression in the rock made a natural reflection pool where the cool mountain stream must have flowed like a fountain. Now, it was bone dry but for a trickle. Kiran leaned over and caught the stench of rotting leaves that had collected in the bottom.
The Pyletar—the symbol of their faith—was next to the pool on a small wooden altar. The base of smooth, dark wood was carved in the shape of a pyramid, a representation of the Sanctuary on the Mount, with a sphere suspended above, signifying the position of the Harvest moon at the time of the Coming of the Seventh Elder. But instead of a simple wooden sphere like the one in the Temple, at the apex of this Pyletar, cradled in a thin iron basket, was The Stone. Clear to the core, it was as transparent as fresh, spring water, yet it sparkled like nothing Kiran had ever seen before, casting rainbows on the altar.
“You know you want to touch it,” said Jandon. “Go on. This is your chance.”
Should he dare? Deke had said that when the Elders placed their hands on it, they could commune directly with the Great Father.
Kiran reached toward it and drew in his breath. He wanted so badly to feel it. As he leaned closer, myriad colors danced within. Gently, he laid his fingertips on it. Holding his breath, he waited. Are you there? Nothing. He waited a moment longer. Still nothing. He drew back. Maybe only Elders could do it.
Jandon stared at him. “Well?”
Kiran shook his head.
Jandon dropped to his knees at the altar, took a knife from his belt, and started to carve an X in the base of the Pyletar.
“What are you doing?” Kiran said. “This is the sacred Sanctuary!”
Jandon glanced up at him. “I want to be able to prove that I was here.”
“But it seems so… wrong.”
“Wrong, ha!” said Jandon. “Didn’t you just say it’s a sin to even be here?”
Kiran glared at him.
“Either way, may the Great Father forgive us,” he said with a smirk. “Let’s go.” He jumped up, made a quick bow toward the altar, and took off running through the arch, scattering dry leaves to the ground. Kiran watched him go, shaking his head.
“Yeah, the Great Father will forgive you,” he sputtered. You’re a Toran. Not a heathen bastard. Like me.
He took one last glimpse of the Sanctuary on the Mount and dreamed about the day when he’d worship here. In better times, the Sanctuary must have been glorious, he thought, imagining what it looked like—the meadow of brightly colored flowers, the ivy-covered archway, the grand reflection pool next to the altar. The drought was taking its toll.
Dead wildflowers crunched under his bare feet as he sprinted across the meadow. The path, worn bare by seasons of methodical footsteps on their way in dedicated service to the Great Father, meandered through rocky crevices and around tight ledges toward the Bridge of Enrapture.
As Kiran approached, he slowed to catch his breath. Deke and Jandon were sure to be far ahead by now. He dreaded having to cross the rickety old bridge again. He gripped the hand ropes. His heart leapt into his throat as he stepped out onto the first plank. The bridge swayed and dipped, creaking with his weight. Breathe. Breathe. The bridge groaned with each step as he put one foot in front of the other to make his way across, his hands burning from gripping the ropes so hard. One last step and he was on solid ground again. He took off at a full run, leaving the path to take his own shortcut through the forest, dodging limbs and tree roots, determined to catch the others.
He leaped over a bluff and dropped to the ground, sliding on his side down the steep slope, rolling on loose gravel, grasping at tree limbs to slow his descent. Then, he was on his feet again, plowing through shoulder-high brush. He darted around a boulder and crashed through a thicket of blackberry bushes. He spun and tugged, the thorns ripping at his tunic. With a yank, he broke free and took off again, leaping over rocks and barreling through ferns. He slid down a bank slick with pine needles and landed on the path in front of Deke.
Kiran bent over, his hands on his thighs, his chest heaving. Deke was with the rest of the boys who’d been waiting to see if Kiran would jump. He could hear their laughter, the laughter that always made him feel small. “So you didn’t have the guts to do it, huh?” he heard one say. He wasn’t sure which. It didn’t matter.
“I knew he wouldn’t go through with it,” said Deke.
“You left before I had a chance.” He pulled a thorn from his foot. “I swear, if you could, you’d have the bells ring just to spite me.”
“No, Kiran. Your fate is in the hands of the Great Father.”
“Why do the bells ring?”
“Maybe the Javinians have mounted another raid and we need to take up arms,” Jandon suggested. “The traitors always come after our bounty at harvest time—”
Deke held up his hand. “If Javinians attack, our warriors will be ready. Sentinels are posted on lookout. If even one of those heathens so much as sets foot in the village, we’ll have him in the stockade by sundown.”
Jandon cocked his head to the side. “But the bells could—”
Deke glared at him and he clamped his mouth shut. “A good Toran does not question. When he is summoned, he obeys.”
Kiran’s hands tightened into fists. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Deke rocked back on his heals, his expression solemn. He looks just like his father, Kiran thought. His wavy black hair, thick and rich, came to a point on his broad forehead. Some called it a demon’s peak, while others were convinced it was a sign of wisdom. But his most arresting feature was his eyes, dark as a m
oonless night, each iris rimmed in gold. When he looked directly at others with those eyes, they knew that he was to be obeyed, without question. His voice taut, Deke said, “You’ve had your chance and failed.”
“But I was just about to jump!” Kiran blurted.
“It doesn’t matter, Kiran. You can’t change who you are.” The bells rang in the distance. “Besides, your time has run out. Do as you will, orphan. But we need to be there.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the village. The others dutifully followed.
Kiran remained standing there, stunned, sure Deke knew something he wasn’t sharing. Despite his pure lineage, underneath the cloak of virtue, shadows lurked. Dark shadows.
He heaved a sigh of resignation and dropped in line behind the others, following Deke down the well-worn path.
Chapter 2
Kiran caught up to Jandon. “I think Deke knows more than he is letting on.”
“Of course he does. He always does.”
“I mean about the bells. The conclave. Why take me up there to jump today? Why would he care whether I made it at all?”
“Who knows? It’s Deke. Why question?”
Kiran nodded, but he kept turning it over in his mind. Something wasn’t right.
The path meandered along the forest’s edge past tiny thatched-roof homes tucked into the hillside, their gardens laid out wherever flat land could be found for tilling. Kiran and Jandon came upon an abandoned farm, now fallow, the soil turned to dust. “I know this family,” said Kiran. “They led a good, honest life, dedicated to the Way. I don’t understand. Why is this happening to good people?”
“I know the family that took them in. They share the chores and ration the food. Now there’s a mark on their door because they didn’t make tithes.”
“Well, how could they? With two families to feed?”
Jandon had no answer.
They came around a bend to a full view of the valley below, the bay, and the sea beyond, clear to the edge of the world. The forest from here to the village had been cleared over the years, felled to build houses and fuel the winter fires, the land left for pasture. In Kiran’s childhood, it had been a lush, green meadow, fed by the rise and fall of nutrient-rich spring rains. But now, what remained was a barren plain, the surface a pattern of ridges in the dried earth like wrinkles on the face of an old man. The river had long since diminished to a muddy creek, winding through the lowland.
The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy) Page 1