Beyond the Western Sun

by Kristina Circelli

  Then, as Ian’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart beat wildly in both wonder and anxiety, the wolf started to change.

  The transformation began with a bright flash that startled the sleepy man. The brightness faded to a slow, spinning whirl of shimmering whiteness, the wolf rising to its hind legs in a fluid, slinky motion. But suddenly, it wasn’t a wolf anymore.

  Smooth fur melted slowly into creamy flesh, the long snout pulling back into a small yet elegant nose above full red lips, thin limbs stretching into finely-toned legs and slender arms. The wolf rose gracefully from the water, gently lifting from the lake in a slow circle as flowing tresses sprung forth from the sparkling fur and wafted in a nonexistent wind, before setting back down on two exquisitely crafted feet.

  When the white wind spun its final swirl and disappeared into the waters, a woman stood where the wolf once was.

  Her beauty astounded Ian. A perfect face, with high cheekbones, a soft jaw, dark gray almond-shaped eyes that were welcoming and kind, long, lustrous, pearl-colored hair that fell down her back in a tumble of loose curls. A perfect body, curves in amazing places, shown off in a white dress that blended beautifully to her skin, with a slit almost to her hips revealing legs that could have been sculpted by the artistic geniuses of Florence. And then she smiled a perfect smile, wide and loving and inviting.

  Slowly, she strolled out of the water, bare feet moving silently across the shore as she came to the man who couldn’t take his gaze away. “Ian.” She spoke with a voice that inspired music and laughter, a sound that lilted and echoed in the air. “I have been waiting for you.”

  “Who…what…I…” He felt like a thirteen year-old boy with his first crush, stumbling over his words at the sight of the beautiful woman, a beautiful woman who had just spun out of the shape of a white wolf. He didn’t question her origin, for of all the sights he had seen in the Land of the Dead, she was quite far the best. By now, he was willing to accept just about anything. “Who are you?”

  The woman reached out and gently ran her fingers through Ian’s hair, taking a step closer so that her body was nearly touching his. “I am the one you dream of…the angel you pray to…the love that fills your soul.”

  Captured by her voice, Ian found himself lifting his hands to her hips, relishing the touch, then inwardly cursed himself for doing so. He shook his head. “I love another woman, my wife…and this…this isn’t right.” But he kept his hands where they were, and didn’t move back.

  “Ian.” She smiled again, tilting her head seductively and kissing the corner of his mouth. “In the Land of the Dead, desire is never wrong.” She molded herself against him, arching her back when his hands traveled up her naked spine.

  His brain was muddled and foggy, barely able to put together a decent sentence. The mystifying woman was right. He wanted her, she was the one he dreamed of, and he didn’t question it. He instantly desired this sexy stranger, the beautiful mystery whose fingers pressed into the firm muscle of his arms and shoulders with admiration and yearning. There was something familiar about her, the way she smelled, the way she moved, the way she needed the touch and feel of his body. There was something familiar about the way he wanted her, the reluctance to pull away, the guilt of savoring the sight of those luscious lips, the craving to pull her curvy hips against him.

  Rebecca.

  He had a brief moment of epiphany. The woman who was all but melting in his arms was the image of his secretary, but with ivory hair that concealed her true identity. He broke free of his captivation long enough to hold her back at arm’s length and look her up and down.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asked again, trying hard to fight the desire.

  “I am who you want me to be,” she answered smoothly, running her hands up his arms. “You worked hard in life, and are being rewarded with the chance to live your dreams. Ian, I give myself to you.”

  “And when I go back to my wife?”

  The woman laughed, the sound filling Ian’s head with clouds. In one stealthy move she spun around and pressed her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her stomach. She laid her head back against his shoulder and nuzzled his throat. “Ian, in the Land of the Dead, all we have is right now. If you return to the Land of the Living, you will have no memory of this place, or your actions. Let yourself have the moment. You have earned it.”

  She began to move in a swaying rhythm, a slow and seductive dance. Ian moved with her, considering her words. He was being given the chance to live his desire, a desire that racked him with guilt and insecurity when alive, a desire that he deserved to have fulfilled. He was a man faced with a stunning, willing woman, and he had the opportunity to act on his temptations without facing any ramifications when the journey was complete.

  Pouring his attention into the exotic beauty, Ian entered into the alluring dance, taking the woman by the hand and spinning her into a circle before letting her fall back gracefully into his arms. She peered up at him wantingly, batting her long lashes and tipping up her chin with invitation. Never before had a woman looked at him with such trust, such worship, such complete, unconditional love. And he wanted to cover every last inch of her warm body.

  “If you have been granted a life filled with love, Mr. Daivya, then you should cherish it, and fight for those who hold your heart.”

  Whisper’s words came crashing into his head. Startled by the intrusion, and contemplating where they came from, he stopped just before his lips touched her neck.

  “Ian.” The woman’s voice was strained, as though desperate for his kiss. “Do not let me go. Give me your heart.”

  But he couldn’t. Julia’s face appeared behind his eyes, her smile, her laugh, even that look she got in her eyes when he did something to irritate her. She was the one for him, his light and joy. Julia, for all their bad times, still held his heart.

  “No.” He set the woman on her feet and took a step back. “Even if I don’t remember, I’ll know right up until the moment I get back, and I can’t live with that.”

  “But you won’t live with the memories, Ian. And until they fade away, you will feel my touch with every breath. You will be strengthened by my heart and soul. That is my promise to you.”

  Ian slapped her hand away when she attempted to touch his cheek. “I don’t care. Look, you’re beautiful and yes, very sexy, but I…I can’t do this.”

  Her eyes narrowed, pearly hair blowing around her face as the wind began to pick up speed. “I understand. It is because you want another. The one who leads you further into the Land of the Dead.”

  It took him a moment to realize who she meant, because the notion itself was absurd, despite his dream. “What? No…I have no desire to be with Whisper.”

  There was a flash of something dark and sinister across her pretty face, a contorted and violent mask hidden behind the creamy complexion and bright eyes that made him take a step back. “So you would risk your life for the deceit of another,” she spat out viciously. “For the unworthy, and for the half-breed who—”

  Her words cut off in a choke of shock and pain. She stumbled, clutching her abdomen, and Ian looked down to see an arrow sticking out of her stomach, dark blood staining the skin-tight white dress in a growing red circle. He could do nothing but stare, freezing in place and choking on his words as he struggled to figure out what was happening. With a pleading look of desperation, the woman fell to her knees, and it was then that Ian saw Whisper standing at the edge of the woods, bow still raised.

  “Oh, Jesus.” He looked back at the woman in time to see her body jerk and convulse, then slowly transform back into its original form.

  “Coyote,” Whisper muttered when she approached, kicking the lifeless form with a sneer. She leaned over and retrieved her arrow. “Beware the Trickster.”

  “What?” Whisper raised her head. Ian was gaping back at her. He couldn’t believe she had just killed someone again, and he witnessed it happen right in front of him. “Beware the what?”<
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  Whisper pointed with the bloody arrow. “Coyote,” she repeated. “Coyote is a Trickster spirit. He is sent to distract people from their quests, and lead them astray. Some say that it was Coyote who convinced the Raven-Eater to consume the moon, claiming that in doing so the Raven-Eater could cast the living world in eternal darkness. But Coyote secretly wished for his wife, who was still of the living, to be able to see him, as the dead are only visible to the living in a place without light.” She cleaned her arrow with a scrap of leather and shook her head. “But in consuming the moon, they released an evil that spread throughout the Land of the Dead instead of affecting the living world. In the Land of the Dead, it is likely that Coyote was a servant of the Raven-Eater.”

  “Sent to distract us?”

  Whisper regarded him with a sarcastic smirk. “Not us, Mr. Daivya…you. I was informed of the Trickster. I should have warned you, but I did not think he would strike so soon.” After a final, disapproving glimpse down at the already-decaying body of Coyote, Whisper led the way back to the protection of the fire, where she returned her arrow to the quiver.

  “So that woman was sent to…what, tempt me?”

  “I told you that the Land of the Dead was full of obstacles, Mr. Daivya, that will test your worth as a man and a father.” Whisper held the arrow up in the light of the fire to make sure it was clean. “If you succumb to any, such as the temptation of the Coyote, then you fail.” She placed the arrow in the quiver before returning her gaze to Ian. “But you resisted, in the end.” There was a congratulatory hint in her voice, and while he knew she wouldn’t actually say the words, it was enough to read it in her face. It wasn’t enough, though, to erase that fact from his mind that he had fallen for a trickster spirit whose primary form was a coyote and who was referred to as he.

  He would have to swallow his pride to admit that he had nearly taken the bait, but not today. The shame was still too new, and stung a bit too much, so he tackled another issue that Coyote had raised.

  “The woman said I was risking my life for someone who is deceiving me,” he said coolly, not taking his eyes off his guide, who didn’t acknowledge his words. “I can only guess that she meant you. So, what kind of deceit is she talking about, and who is this half-breed?”

  Now Whisper did recognize his words. She sighed and moved so that she was sitting Indian-style, facing Ian. He got the feeling that he was in for another lesson.

  “Coyote was right,” she admitted frankly. “I did not tell you about the half-breed. It was not necessary for you to know, until the time was right.”

  “Well, I’m telling you that the time is right now. So talk.”

  Whisper bit back a sharp retort. She hated being ordered around. “The half-breed is the child of the Raven-Eater.”

  Ian frowned and crossed his arms. “But you said he took Cole to be his son, to make up for the one he lost.”

  “He did.” Whisper nodded, toying with the frayed laces of her boots. “You see, Mr. Daivya, a child was born to the Raven-Eater and his wife, one a spirit and the other a living woman in the Land of the Dead. The child was born half-spirit, half-alive…a half-breed. The Raven-Eater believed the child would be his heir, until a prophet foretold his destruction. The prophet said that the half-breed would have the power to destroy its creator, its father, and would do so to take the throne of the Land of the Dead. As one would expect, he ordered the half-breed to be put to death, and began his search for a son in the living world.”

  “So why would the woman bring up the half-breed, if the child is dead?”

  Picking up a thin stick, Whisper began to draw in the dirt. “There are many legends about the half-breed. Some say that the half-breed was killed as an infant and buried beneath the Fire Mountains, but others say that the half-breed was taken away and hidden from the Raven-Eater. Some believe the child was taken to the living world, some believe that a powerful magic was cast so that the child may be reincarnated into the body of a living child to one day return for revenge, and others believe that the child never left the Land of the Dead, and will destroy the Raven-Eater when the time is right.”

  “And what do you believe?”

  “I believe the half-breed is here, in the Land of the Dead.”

  “And how do you expect to find it?”

  Whisper cocked her head to the side and lifted the stick from the earth. “Find, Mr. Daivya? I already know.”

  “You—how do you…” His voice trailed off when the truth rang loud in clear in his head. “You think Cole is the reincarnated half-breed? Are you insane?! My son is not some half-spirit, half-human beast. He’s a little boy who was murdered by an ancient, psychotic shaman!”

  Whisper didn’t reply for a moment. Instead, she finished her drawing in the dirt, and only when it was complete did she respond. “These worlds work in mysterious ways, Mr. Daivya…ways we are not meant to understand. But we are given clues along our paths to destiny.”

  “Clues like what?”

  “Like the mark of the half-breed.” She gestured to her drawing, and Ian looked down to see the mark displayed in the dirt—a crooked circle, with five dots in the center, and a V-shaped symbol at the base. There was nothing spectacular about the design, but it haunted him nonetheless.

  “So…but Cole doesn’t have that mark. He doesn’t even have any birthmarks.”

  “The mark of the half-breed is visible only to the dead.”

  Of course it is, Ian thought sarcastically. “Okay…so if Cole has that mark, then he…he is the half-breed who can destroy this Raven-Eater. God.” He blew out a heavy breath and buried his head in his hands. It was too much, too much information and knowledge. Their journey was getting so much more complicated than he’d ever anticipated. “How would he destroy him?”

  “The…prophecy,” Whisper took a few seconds to think about the word, wondering if it was correct, “says that only the child who has been accepted into the arms of the Raven-Eater can destroy his power, by taking a piece of his spirit body and burying it in the Land of the Living.”

  He was beginning to put the pieces together. “So you knew from the very beginning that all of this wasn’t just about finding my son. It was about killing the Raven-Eater.”

  “In a way.” Whisper stared down at the mark in the ground. “I cannot guarantee that our legends are correct, Mr. Daivya, and I cannot guarantee that your son has been accepted by the Raven-Eater. I have fought for many years to keep him from stealing the soul of a child, because when his family is complete, he will raise up his army for war with the living. I do not know what would happen should he be destroyed, but I can only pray that the Land of the Dead is not destroyed with him.”

  Her deceit burned his blood, and even though he’d known all along that she wasn’t telling him the whole truth, he still wanted to throttle the woman. “How do you know all this?”

  “Do you know the story of the Bible, the story of your origin?”

  Ian peered through the purple haze at the young woman. “Of course I do. I was raised with it.”

  “As was I.” Whisper nodded and pulled on her jacket as the temperature slowly began to drop. “This is my heritage, Mr. Daivya, my story of origin. It is the way I know. Stories have been told about Water Beatle and Buzzard for many moons.”

  “So…no Adam and Eve, huh? No Tree of Life and big flood and hanging on a cross?”

  Whisper cocked her head, curious. “How interesting it is that people are willing to believe in a man who turns water to wine, and cures blindness, one who rises from the dead, yet say that the stories of my people are nonsense and myth.”

  It was true, Ian silently agreed. He believed in God, and before crossing beyond the Western Sun would have brushed off Whisper’s ways as childish…nonsense, as she said. He got the feeling that she had bared the brunt of many such brush-offs. “So what is your origin?”

  Picking up her bow to tighten the string, Whisper let her people’s creation story form in her mind. “In the
beginning, Mr. Daivya, the earth was a great island suspended in the air by the four cardinal points. This island hung above a land of pure water, a place where people could not survive, and where animals were yet to thrive. But soon the island became crowded, and so Water Beetle went down to the ocean to search for land. He dove deep into the water, and brought forth mud to the surface. This mud spread across the surface of the water, but it was still too soft for people to live.” Such a tiny creature, Whisper thought, with such large accomplishments.

  “Now the earth was dry and flat, but soft. So the people sent the Great Buzzard to search for hard land. Buzzard flew for many moons, and found nothing. Eventually he began to tire, and he flew lower to the ground. The tips of his wings struck the ground, and where they did, great valleys were formed. When he lifted his wings, mountains rose up with them. Now the earth was dry and people came down from the island to live, but it was dark. They created the sun, and when they could see, they found their new land was empty of plants and animals.”

  “So they created plants and animals? How?”

  His genuine interest pleased her. “No, Mr. Daivya, such things cannot be created out of air. The people discovered that there was another world beneath theirs, and the only way to reach it was by the waterfalls that fell from the mountaintops.” Without realizing it, Whisper lifted her hands high and brought them down as though traveling the waters in her mind. With her animation and slow way of speaking, Ian could only think that the woman was a born storyteller.

  “They could only enter this world with a guide, one who would share their plants and animals. When the people’s new world had plants and animals, they were told by Creator to pray for seven days. As each day passed, the people and animals and plants began to fall asleep, until they reached the seventh day. Only Panther and Owl remained awake, and so they were given the gift of wisdom, and sight in the darkness. Because they can see, they can prey on the other animals that fall asleep.”

  Whisper absently wiped a hand across the symbol of the half-breed marked in the dirt as she thought about the rest of the story, her story of creation. “The problem that rose then was that the people could not reproduce, and their village was dying. So man struck woman with a fish and told her to have a child, and she did.” Ian laughed at that, covering his mouth with a dirty hand, and lowered his head to avoid Whisper’s angry glare. “Women gave birth every seven days, until they had too many people, so Creator made it so a child would be born only once a year…And that is the origin of my people.”