“Careful!” Roh grabbed Kiran by the wrist and examined his finger, holding it tightly to put pressure on the wound. “We can’t afford to get hurt out here.” With his other hand he pulled a cloth from his pack. “What do you mean, travel?”
Kiran stared at his bloody finger. Roh had a strong grip on it, pinching off the flow of blood. He didn’t want to admit what he had done, what he had thought. What would Roh think if he knew the truth? He had disgraced the Torans and dishonored the Lendhi. And all for what?
Roh carefully wrapped Kiran’s finger. “Are you doubting your translation of the Script?”
“No, it’s not that. It was just that I thought. . . Well, I don’t know what I thought.” He pulled his hand away and stared at his bandaged finger. He expected Roh to persist with his questions, but he said nothing more.
After a long silence, Roh picked up the wooden token Kiran had been carving, turned it over in his hand, and held it under the waterfall to rinse away the blood. “Why are you carving a Pyletar?”
Kiran blushed. “It’s for Bria.”
Roh smiled, nodding, as if it were a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
“Deke would condemn me for it.”
Roh raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not Deke.”
They sat in silence for a time, behind the wall of water, waiting for the deluge to stop. Kiran looked at Roh. He was right; he wasn’t Deke. He was someone Kiran could talk to. “Do you think the Great Father knows our intentions?”
“Do you mean do I think the Great Father is expecting us?”
A thought struck him like a punch in the stomach. He looked at Roh and his lip quivered. What he was thinking felt like blasphemy, but he couldn’t help it. “Then why are we going? I mean…”
“Why are we going?” He looked at Kiran as though he didn’t understand the question. “Because it was foretold that we would.”
“But don’t you wonder? Didn’t you… question?” Kiran held his breath, fearing he’d gone too far.
“No,” he said, as if it had never crossed his mind.
“But, like you said, you aren’t Deke. You’re not like him at all. You don’t seem to—”
“I came because it is my duty.”
Kiran nodded. Roh looked away.
Around them, water seeped from every crack. A stream of red sand flowed at their feet, gritty and abrasive, running into crevices, dislodging small rocks and other loose objects in its path. Shifting rocks rumbled above them. Kiran shuddered, imagining the massive walls crumbling, sliding to the river and being washed away.
The rushing rainwater cascading over raw rock reminded him of last spring at home, when, amid the long drought, the rains had come with such force they did more damage than good. Spontaneous streams had cut through the dry valley, gouging crooked ridges in the ground. The cracks had grown larger and larger right before his eyes.
The water pouring over the ledge above slowed to a trickle, and the view spread before them, as though a window shutter had been thrown open. The rain had ceased, the clouds had dissipated, and rays of sunshine streamed down from above. All along the canyon walls, hundreds of waterfalls existed where yesterday there had been none.
All that rainwater flowed down through the canyon, like in a giant crack in the ground, picking up rocks and pebbles and grit, grinding away the bottom, deeper and deeper.
“Are you sure the river is the way?” Kiran asked. “I mean, maybe Deke is right. What if this isn’t the way the Great Father intended for us to go?”
“You saw the terrain up there. We have no choice but to take the river, wherever it may lead.”
“Now, yes, but, well…” Kiran wiped water from his forehead. “The Script of the Legend was written a long, long time ago.”
“What are you saying?” Roh looked intently at Kiran, his eyebrows creased.
“At first I thought we were hiking upward, into mountains. But what if…” he faltered. He had to be wrong. He was questioning again. He clenched his teeth, frustrated. The questions just popped in his head, uninvited.
“Go ahead and say it, Kiran.”
“What if, instead of heading across the land, we are headed down?”
“Down? What do you mean?”
His mind was whirring now. If the water cut into the ground, and the canyon was this deep… How deep could it go? Did the river continue deeper into the rock and flow directly off the edge of the world? “It seems we are headed into the depths of the world.”
Roh looked along the length of the canyon, then back at Kiran and a deep understanding passed between them. Roh rose to his feet, flung his pack on his back, and started downward. Kiran followed.
They couldn’t find the route they had taken up. Nothing looked the same. Rocks had shifted and moved, rearranged by the downpour.
After noon, they dropped into a narrow ravine and followed it downward. Strangely, the rock was dry within the ravine. They were making good time when Kiran stopped short. The air suddenly had the strong odor of musty humus and cedar. “Do you smell that?” Before Roh could answer, the ground shook under their feet. He looked up. A wall of water roared toward them. “Run!” Kiran yelled. “Go, go, go!”
In three strides, Kiran was across the small crevasse. He leaped unto a boulder, grabbed a handhold on a ledge, and flung himself upward. In one swift motion, Roh was beside him. They pressed against the rock wall, feeling naked and powerless in the path of the white fury. There was nowhere else to go.
The flooding rampage rushed by, rumbling and roaring through the ravine. Rocks crashed into rocks, exploding into pieces, flying into the air in every direction.
“Where did all that water come from all of a sudden?” Kiran yelled over the roar.
Roh shook his head.
As he clung to the ledge, Kiran thought of the mud-packed ground out on the Great Meadow when he and Bria had set out alone. The soil had been too hardened from the sun to absorb the rain. This canyon was solid rock. There was nowhere for the water to go but flow downward, to the river. To Bria! He had to get to her.
He chewed his lip, waiting for the initial blast of water to pass through, then he leaped from the ledge and continued down a crumbly decline. When they came to the top of the crack they had shinnied up, Kiran tossed his pack over the edge, sprawled across the opening of the cleft, pushed his feet against the opposite side, and slid down the crack as fast as he could. As soon as his feet hit the bottom, he grabbed his pack and took off at a dead run. He fell to his knees and slid down a scree-covered embankment, landing on his feet at the bottom.
At last, Kiran could see the others below standing knee-deep in water. The shore they had camped on was completely submerged and the four of them were clinging to the edge of the raft, fighting to keep it from floating away in the turbid water. He skidded down the embankment and plowed through the water toward them.
When Bria caught sight of him, she yelled over the roar of the river, “Thank the Father! You’re alive!” He reached to take hold of the raft. She lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. As quickly as she did, she dropped her arms again. “I knew it! I knew you hadn’t died!”
“Slow down,” he said. “Died? Why would you think that?”
“The blood! There!” she pointed to a narrow gorge.
“Blood?”
“Blood gushed over the walls when the rains came. Waterfalls of blood! Deke thought you had died for sure, but I made him wait for you.” Her eyes searched his. “What did you find up there?”
“Nothing. We found nothing.” He lifted the strap of the waterskin over his head and handed it to her.
“We’ve been drinking the rain,” she said, taking it from him and tying it to the raft.
Roh came alongside him.
Bria turned to Roh, her eyebrows raised. “Nothing?” she asked, incredulous.
Roh shook his head and dropped his pack on the raft. “We stay to the river,” he said and climbed on. Jandon flopped onto the raft, resign
ed. Kail looked as though she might crumple where she stood. Roh took her by the hand and helped her unto the raft. She gave him a meek smile and a nod.
The river bubbled and boiled, a monstrous flood of dirty brown water filled with debris. An entire tree, roots and all, floated by, spinning in the roiling current. That’s odd, Kiran thought. They hadn’t seen a tree for many days.
As soon as they were back on the river, they heard the familiar rumble of ground-level thunder. Ahead, the rock walls narrowed and they knew what that meant. All the water would funnel into the narrow chasm and push through the gap with a fury—and them with it.
They gripped the ropes with all their might as they plunged into the churning nightmare.
Before Kiran could catch a breath, the raft lifted, and they were airborne, plummeting over falls. The raft dropped, weightless, then submerged into a seething cauldron of white. They held on, muscles strained, as the raft bobbed up and spun into a stretch of boulder-strewn rapids, rocking in choppy waters, until finally the river widened again and at last they found a place to pull ashore.
In the morning, eerie clouds drifted down the steep rock walls, a mist flowing like waves in the wind. Kiran removed his boots and rubbed his sore feet. Cracks had developed between his toes and a raw patch had formed where sand had chafed his skin.
When the blistering sun came up over the ridge, they piled on the raft and braced for another day of insufferable heat.
Then the bees came.
From nowhere, they descended—humming, buzzing bees, with striped bodies and sharp stingers. Deke and Jandon were at the poles. They waved their hands in the air, frantically shooing them away. The bees swarmed around their heads in thick, dark clouds. The boys threw water at them, but no matter what they did, the ruthless bees were not dissuaded and showed no sign of letting up.
Kiran took off his hat to fan his face, but it seemed only to provoke them. He considered putting on more clothes, but realized right away the added heat would be more intolerable and irritating than the bees.
Bria took another approach to their plight. She sat motionless, her eyes closed, while the bees crawled over her shoulders and neck, inching along her bare, glistening skin. She actually smiled as if the touch of tiny feet was a pleasure. Kiran stared at the bees as they drank her sweet sweat.
In that moment, he envied the bees.
The bees were particularly determined to torment Jandon. They swarmed around his head, buzzing with a fever as if they enjoyed torturing him. No one wanted to get near him. They all shifted to one side of the raft, avoiding his buzzing cloud. In desperation, he tied a piece of rope to the back of the raft, held onto the end, and plunged into the cold water. He trailed behind, floating on his back, his face the only part of his body out of the water. Before long, he started to laugh, a delirious chuckle.
“What’s wrong?” Kail wailed. She turned to Kiran, desperation in her expression. “Has he gone mad?”
Roh grabbed hold of the rope and hauled him to the raft.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
Jandon sprang from the water, a big grin on his face. “Don’t you see?” he laughed. “Bees!”
They stared at him, waiting. Maybe he had gone mad.
“Yes! Bees, bees, bees! Bees mean plants. Plants mean food.”
It was the first time they’d smiled in days.
Around the next bend, the surface of the river turned calm and the water became a deeper shade of green with the spin of soft, gentle whirlpools at the edges. The walls closed in, making glorious shade, cool and dark, and reflections of the rock face danced in the glassy surface of the water. Along the shoreline, just as Jandon had said, was the green of life—vines with white, trumpet-shaped blossoms.
“Look!” Jandon pointed upward to a thick mass of brown fur. Creatures the size of carrion birds with leathery wings clung by clawed feet to the vertical rock face, two and three deep.
As the river swirled around another bend, the sandstone canyon opened up before them, transforming into a haven so startlingly beautiful they couldn’t believe their eyes. It was as though they’d come upon another world. Right in the center of the canyon, splitting the river in two, stood an island bursting with green foliage. The sun shone down through the clouds, making streaks of sunlight in the sky that seemed to point right at the island.
The canyon walls that encircled the island were covered with dripping mosses and hanging plants bearing bright crimson flowers. Tiny, delicate waterfalls trickled forth from cracks, casting veils of mist in the air where rainbows sparkled, iridescent on the wind. A gentle breeze carried the fragrance of fresh, citrusy blossoms. The soothing hush of gurgling water and the twittering of birds sounded like Kiran had always imagined the music of the Celestial Kingdom would sound. He blinked and shook his head. It had to be a dream.
Kail squealed. “We’ve made it!”
Chapter 17
No one spoke a word as the current carried them toward the paradise they had found. Kiran rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Hunger and thirst could make people delirious, he knew. Is that what’s happening?
The main branch of the river flowed to the right side of the island and dropped into a turbulent rush of white waves. Using the poles, Roh and Kiran maneuvered the raft to the left where the water was glassy calm.
The island was an exotic tangle of green upon green. Low, spike-leaved bushes grew at the water’s edge, filled with the chatter of birds. The rich fragrance of flowers permeated the warm, humid air.
“Look there,” Roh said. He stuck the pole in the river bottom. The raft rocked sideways and eased against the bushes. The branches bent downward, heavy with ripe orange and yellow fruit. Kail and Jandon reached out and plucked handfuls, piling it on the raft. Ravenous, Kiran bit into one, the sweet juice running down his chin. He’d never tasted anything so delicious. He ate the soft core and reached for another one.
As they glided further down the shoreline, the thick forest gave way to a flat landscape of peaceful gardens with row upon row of vegetable plants.
Roh mumbled, “There must be—”
“People!” hollered Jandon. Men and women in white tunics were hoeing, raking, and tilling the soil. Jandon called out to them, “Hello there! Hello!” Roh gave Jandon a sharp look and quickly flipped his pack over the pile of fruit. One woman glanced up from her work, but did not slow her pace or acknowledge them in any way.
The Torans exchanged looks of confusion. Had she not heard? She must have; she looked up when Jandon called. Yet she ignored them. The Torans waved and shouted as they floated by, but still got no response.
Soon, they came upon a floating bridge which spanned the width of the river. The raft came to rest against it. The Torans waited, looking about.
“Should we go ashore?” Jandon asked.
“Let’s wait and see,” Roh said, scanning the area.
At last, a barefoot young man, about their age, dressed in the same white tunic as the others, approached carrying a rope and bucket. Right away, Kiran noticed the unique scar in the shape of a star in the center of his forehead. The young man smiled with genuine welcome and crouched to tie off their raft. Deke jumped onto the dock and stuck out his hand. “I’m Deke, leader of the Torans.” Roh and Kiran exchanged a look of amusement. The young man took his hand, shaking it, but simply nodded.
Bria stepped from the raft. “We have been on the river for many days without food or water. We would be most grateful for anything you can offer.”
The young man nodded again with an encouraging smile. From the bucket, he offered her a wooden cup of water.
“Thank you!” Bria said, gulping it down. The boy filled the cup again and it was passed around, Kail and the boys each taking a long draught. Then, with a smile of satisfaction, the young man turned, motioning for them to follow.
Into the dense, tangled growth of green they went, walking single file along a dirt path toward the interior of the island. Bria whispered to Kiran over h
er shoulder, “Do you think the boy can’t talk? He hasn’t said a word.”
Kiran shrugged. The forest here was nothing like the woods back home. There were no trees, at least as Kiran thought of trees. These were more like giant plants, all stem and huge leaves, with exotic flowers in all colors and shapes. “Bria, look at that,” he said, pointing at an exquisite orchid-like flower with pinkish-purple hues hanging from a low branch.
She smiled with delight. “And those!” She gestured toward a stand of rich, velvety red blossoms shaped like pinecones. Hundreds of butterflies swooped and flittered about, sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Some danced on silky wings, translucent and speckled, and others were strikingly large, the size of his hand, blue and velvety, with iridescent shine. A giant bee buzzed by his head. As it slowed and hovered in midair before a big, fluted purple blossom, he realized it wasn’t a bee, but a tiny bird with a curved bill. It darted to and fro, from blossom to blossom, hovering at each, its wings beating too fast to see.
The air smelled of spices mixed with citrus fruit. His stomach churned. He regretted eating so much of the sweet fruit all at once.
Kail stopped to sniff at white blossoms hanging on a vine. She giggled with delight. “The scent of the river. My pomander, the scent of my pomander.” The young man smiled at her, nodding as though indulging a small child and motioned for her to follow. She skipped along the path to catch up.
They emerged at the edge of a patch of gardens. The young man led them to a small, grass-covered hut, gestured for them to stay, and slipped away. People of all ages, men and women alike, milled about, busily tending the gardens, paying them no mind, all dressed in the same plain white tunics.
Kiran whispered to Bria, “They seem friendly, but they don’t make eye contact. Why don’t they say hello? Doesn’t anyone speak at all?”
Before long, a woman appeared, walking directly toward them, tall and slender and graceful, dressed in a sheer white robe that clung sensuously to her body, distinctly different from the white tunics of the rest of the population. She stopped about fifty feet away, summoned three young boys from the gardens, then sent them scurrying off.
The Path to the Sun (The Fallen Shadows Trilogy) Page 15