Beyond the Western Sun

by Kristina Circelli

  For the thousandth time, Forbe flipped through the journal. Whether by the Elder’s magic or his own exhaustion, the pictures seemed to be alive, reaching out to him, guiding him through Whisper and Ian’s journey. If he were to believe these pages, then the two were in the Land of the Dead. He recognized the Bridge of the Dead from stories his father told him, stories he’d heard from the Elder himself. But if they were in the Land of the Dead, then that meant that Whisper and Ian were no longer alive.

  Which could only mean that Smoke Speaker killed them, and probably Cole too.

  As she walked through the woods, peering behind every tree, every bush, Julia kept that thought in mind. She didn’t believe in the Land of the Dead, but was starting to believe that the Elder drew those pictures specifically for her, to throw her off track. But he wouldn’t make a fool out of her.

  They were nearing the river. She could hear the water trickling in the distance, and couldn’t help but remember their first day at the campsite when Cole slipped and nearly fell off the rock. Call it a mother’s intuition, but she felt that the river, more so than the Elder or Whisper, contributed to her son’s death. She could no longer deny the fact that her son was dead, and supposed it was pure adrenaline and a lingering yet suppressed denial that kept her from breaking down. Her focus was on finding his body, and maybe then she would let herself grieve.

  Ian was no longer her concern. Her husband had been distant and emotionally gone for longer than she could remember. Now he had abandoned her during the toughest, most devastating time she would ever face in her life. She’d seen the drawings, him holding a gorgeous woman, and she couldn’t deny the fact that wherever he was, he was with Whisper. So now, Ian was forgotten. All Julia wanted was her son, and she had to make an enemy out of her husband in order to block the horrific feelings of despair that formed when she thought of her marriage.

  “We’ll find him,” Olivia said, as though reading her mind. She was panting and her knees ached terribly, but this was the first clear day they’d had since Cole went missing and there was no way she was going to waste it on complaints.

  “I know,” Julia said determinedly, the thought of Smoke Speaker’s journal sparking a renewed fire in her heart. “Today’s the day. We’re—”

  Suddenly the world….pulsed. Julia and the others froze, staring to their sides as the woods shook and the leaves rustled in a fresh blast of wind. It was over in a second, but no one could rid their bodies of that rumble of terror rushing through their blood.

  “What the hell was that?” Julia asked, gripping her father’s arm. “What just happened?”

  Smoke Speaker knew exactly what was going on.

  His heart leapt in his throat, his knees buckling, forcing him to the floor of his hut. Even though his animal friends protected him from the police, he now knew their efforts were all in vain.

  A new danger was taking over this world.

  The dead had been disturbed, forced from their eternal resting places to join the Raven-Eater’s war. Soon they would emerge from the Western Sun, bringing their curses with them. And worse, the searchers were nearly upon Cole’s body.

  If he is found…if he is buried, Smoke Speaker thought, frantically building a fire in the middle of his hut with shaking hands, then we fail. Our world ends. Whisper…you must HURRY.

  As the smoke rose to the roof, the Elder reached out to the last dead soul that could help them. Old friend, he prayed, sending out his message as quickly as possible, our last hope lies with you.

  In just seconds he got his answer. I do this, old man, the voice said in return, and my debt is paid. I have no loyalty to you.

  Chapter 24

  Whisper and Ian had just reached the bottom of the Fire Mountains when the ground shook and a sinister feel corrupted the air. They spun around and watched in horror as rotting hands and decomposing corpses pushed and groaned their way through the surface of the earth.

  Dread rose in Whisper’s gut. The dead souls stood before her, standing perfectly straight on shaking knees with their arms at their sides. They stared ahead with empty eye sockets, quietly breathing through tongueless mouths—the Raven-Eater had their eyes and tongues removed as a part of their eternal curse.

  These were the men who killed the Raven-Eater’s family, who murdered the real Gentle Heart and Fighting Fox. These were the women and children of those men, slaved into eternal service and damnation because of the sins of their husbands and fathers. But they were also the souls the Guardian of the Dead had recruited for his army, thieves and rapists he had ripped from the Spirit World, suicidal serial killers bent on destruction. The sight of such an army rising was both heartbreaking and terrifying.

  “What are they doing?” Ian whispered, the words trembling from his lips.

  “Waiting for orders,” his guide answered, gripping the knife at her belt. “The Raven-Eater is preparing for war.”

  “…With who?”

  Whisper turned her ghostly eyes to Ian. “The living.”

  Before Ian could stutter out another question, a shout from above caught his attention. Both he and Whisper glanced up, and while he took a step back in fear at the sight, she merely grinned her wicked grin.

  The line of soldiers marched down a well-worn path faster than Ian ever would have thought imaginable. Spears, knives, and arrows were drawn as the guards neared, their faces marked with black smudges, their hair drawn back tightly and secured with bone pins at the napes of their necks, which were beaded with sweat. Ian was positive they were going to kill them, but Whisper didn’t seem concerned. In fact, she seemed eager for their arrival.

  Sure enough, Whisper moved forward when the guards approached, not at all concerned by their fierce faces or blood-stained weapons. She feared no one.

  Whisper untied the pouch at her belt and held it up as the guards approached. The contents shimmered through the leather, curiously catching their eyes. “I offer free passage into the Spirit World for any who aid us on our journey.”

  For a moment no one said a word. The guards stood poised with their arrows raised high, Whisper braving their wrath and holding the mysterious pouch up, Ian staying a few steps back with his arms crossed cautiously, afraid to look any of them in the eye. In the background, the dead souls waited for their orders.

  Finally one man lowered his weapon and moved forward from the line of guards. He was tall, with thick black hair tied back in a bun and secured with thin bone pins. His face was heavily scarred, evidence of his years warring with enemy villages, shadowed by wide tattoos that circled down his neck. Pants patched up with thick layers of leather hid toned legs, but his arms, chest, and shoulders were completely exposed to the harsh winds of the Fire Mountains. He was heavily muscled, with tattoos and scars that intertwined with one another. Whisper didn’t recognize the markings, but then, she didn’t know much about the symbols of the Plains tribes. They had no connection to her own people, in her opinion. But they were intriguing nonetheless.

  So, she has a heart after all, Ian mused despite his panic. He noticed the way her gaze lingered as she looked him up and down, and even though her expression was one of disgust and courage, he knew her well enough by now. She never looked at anyone that long, not even in hatred. And he doubted she even realized what she had done. After all, she herself claimed she wasn’t capable of love.

  “Who are you?” Whisper demanded to know, lowering the pouch and holding it to her stomach as though worried he would try to steal it.

  “Hunting Hawk,” the man answered, his voice so deep and menacing that Ian’s breath was nearly taken away. “How is your offer possible?”

  Whisper turned her head slightly, but enough so that everyone knew she didn’t want Ian to hear her reply. Hunting Hawk gestured to an overhang far enough away from the group, then signaled to his men to watch Ian while he was gone.

  For the first time during her journey, Whisper followed someone else. She stayed behind Hunting Hawk as they approached their meetin
g place, keeping a close eye on him in case he attempted an attack. Instead, he merely turned, crossed his arms, and waited.

  Whisper eyed him curiously, wondering why he was so willing to talk rather than kill. Perhaps the promise of the Spirit World was greater than the wrath of the Raven-Eater. “Do you know who I am?” she asked, tucking the pouch into her belt and holding her head high.

  Hunting Hawk smirked. “Kanegv,” he answered, taking a step closer. “Our spies know everything.”

  “Do they know how to pass into the Spirit World?”

  “Do you?”

  Insulted, but determined not to show it, Whisper produced the pouch and opened it just wide enough to reveal the sparkling contents. She watched Hunting Hawk as he leaned over and peered into the leather bag. The gold glimmer reflected off his tanned skin. Although she despised anyone willing to give up their eternal souls for the Raven-Eater, she couldn’t help but take in his scars. She respected scars, respected their story. She had hers, Smoke Speaker was marked by his life. And now she was considering giving Hunting Hawk a new one for his arrogance.

  “My Elder is a powerful shaman,” she said, closing the pouch. The golden glow disappeared into the darkness. “He has traveled far, and met many along the way who have shared their secrets. I offer passage into the Spirit World, but demand your assistance in return.”

  Hunting Hawk matched her haughty tone with his own. “Suppose I simply kill you, and take the magic myself.”

  “Without the prayer, you will not reach the Spirit World.”

  There may have been a prayer, but Hunting Hawk doubted it. He knew the woman was a master of deception. No one could reach the Fire Mountains through honesty. She obviously was hiding the truth from her traveling companion, who was desperately trying to hear their conversation.

  Still, he was amused by her self-assurance, and interested in her offer. “The Raven-Eater has ordered your death. Trespassers on his land are not accepted, especially during times of war…What do you wish in return for this gift?”

  The corners of Whisper’s mouth turned up to form her plotting, conniving grin. “In exchange for your passage, and the passage of your men, I ask for one thing.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ian, who was staring right at her, then turned her eyes back to Hunting Hawk.

  Ian was not going to like what happened next.

  Julia stood on the bank of the river, hands on her hips as she stared out across the water. It was a lost cause, in her opinion. The incredibly thick, almost magically destructive fog over the past month had limited police attempts to search the river. With almost zero visibility and the danger of sharp rocks, fast rapids, and sudden drop offs, even the most experienced river guides weren’t willing to risk the currents.

  Now the air was crystal clear, and the river was waiting. Sheriff Forbe was insistent that they scour the waters, but Julia was skeptical. Even if they found Cole’s body, it would be unrecognizable, something she never wanted to see. But she doubted he would be found. After so many long days of searching, so many long hours crying over her lost son and husband, Julia had resolved the issue herself. In her mind, Cole was taken by a sadistic killer, an evil man who haunted the woods. Forbe and the other deputies had shared stories of other missing children over the years, children Whisper and Smoke Speaker had managed to find. The cases were all too similar to ignore the connection.

  Bottom line, Cole would not be found.

  “Forbe!” Deputy Duff shouted suddenly, knee-deep in the river and bracing himself against a rock to fight off the current. Dread dropped like a rock of fire in Julia’s gut as she watched the sheriff race over to the bank. David and Olivia froze in place, barely able to breathe.

  The three of them stood back, unable to move as four more deputies entered the water, staring down at something hidden behind a rock. Pushed forward by a strange force of motherly nature and a fearful curiosity that had to be satisfied, Julia edged her way closer, ignoring her mother’s desperate pleas to stay behind. David reached for her arm, but she brushed him off, waving an absent hand in his direction.

  She had to know. She had to know what they were looking at, what was causing that deep crease in Forbe’s forehead, that look of misery in Duff’s eyes.

  Her feet moved silently over fallen leaves and twigs. Everything else disappeared, all sounds faded into nothingness. Life was only a dream, and nothing existed except for what was found in that narrow tunnel of vision that led straight to the river.

  One of the officers tried to hold her back when her shoes touched water, but Julia couldn’t be stopped. Later, she wouldn’t remember shoving the man to the ground or tripping over a rock and busting open her knee. She wouldn’t remember the bitter cold of the water, the strength of the current. All she could focus on was the water, seeing past the rapids.

  And there, at the bottom of the river tucked between two thick boulders, was the wavering blue image of her son’s T-shirt.

  Chapter 25

  Ray Forbe marched through the woods, stomping across logs and loose dirt, shoving branches out of his way. This time, when he reached Howling Vines, he wasn’t leaving without Elder Smoke Speaker.

  Cole Daivya’s body had been found shoved so tightly beneath a crevice that it had to have been done by a human hand. It was possible that the strong currents had somehow managed to push him against the rocks over the past month, but Forbe wasn’t stupid. Cole was put there on purpose. The only reason they even found him was because Duff had been standing at just the right angle downriver looking in just the right direction at the one second the rapids parted long enough to reflect the bright blue color of the boy’s shirt. And even then the Deputy hadn’t been sure that he actually saw something. Plus, they were so far away from the place Cole disappeared that it didn’t seem likely he’d of traveled such a distance, yet another reason why the sheriff was so sure Cole was murdered.

  But that wasn’t the main reason Forbe knew Smoke Speaker was behind the boy’s death. After a month, Cole’s body should have been destroyed by the elements. But when they pulled him out of the water it looked like Cole’s exterior body had been preserved the entire month he was dead. The sheer impossibility of that fact caused the police to demand a full investigation and autopsy to determine how exactly that happened.

  Or maybe Cole hadn’t been dead since his disappearance, but was killed just days before they found him. That was another thought rolling around in Forbe’s mind. Either way, someone was taking the blame.

  As expected, Howling Vines was empty, so quiet and still that it seemed abandoned. He didn’t mind. Taking a seat on a hand-carved chair, Forbe leaned back, stared at the empty fire hearth, and waited.

  Smoke Speaker was no fool either. He knew Sheriff Ray Forbe was out for his blood, and didn’t need his animal friends to tell him first. The river spirits informed him when the boy’s body was found, and less than five minutes later the Elder was on the move.

  He found sanctuary at the lake in which Ian took his last breath, the lake Smoke Speaker had recently named Whisper’s Waters. Few people knew of this location, and so he was sure that he had enough time for Whisper to either succeed or fail before he was caught.

  The Elder stood knee-deep in the water, gripping his innately carved staff and balancing himself in the thick mud. All around him was quiet. Black crows watched him from the treetops, eyes wide and accusatory. A fox sat on the lake shore, tail tucked around her legs and head cocked slightly to the side. Up above, an owl soared silently through the trees, rustling not so much as a single leaf. They were there to observe the ceremony, regardless of whether or not they approved.

  Such silence didn’t bother Smoke Speaker. In fact, he welcomed it. This was a solemn time, a time for respect and sacrifice.

  He stared down at that sacrifice now, two young people who had given up their lives for a greater cause. One had died so his son could live, the other had chosen destiny in eternal darkness. No one in this world would ever know what they ha
d done, but if they succeeded, everything would change. Neither the living nor the dead would ever be the same.

  One month ago Smoke Speaker had anchored Whisper and Ian’s bodies to the bottom of the lake by securing heavy rocks to their waists. For one month they had been lying in the mud, Whisper’s long hair swirling in the water, Ian’s blue eyes still half-open in shock. The Elder knew ways to preserve their bodies, as he had done with the boy to confuse the police when they found him, but with these two it didn’t seem necessary. Instead, he had only half-preserved their bodies just for his own peace of mind. Luckily, the ripples and lake grasses shielded his view from the toll of thirty days of death.

  Lowering himself to his knees, the Elder reached out and placed a hand on Whisper’s heart. The water came up to his chin, and he shivered from the cold waves. This was the only way he could reach her now, by speaking to her soul. He couldn’t return to his camp, and it was too dangerous making a fire here, where people may see the smoke rising above the tree tops.

  He could only pray she understood his message.

  Chapter 26

  When Ian opened his eyes, dried black mud patched to a thick ceiling filled his vision. The ground was hard, cramping his back as he stretched out the kinks in his neck. Dark gray drops of liquid dripped all around him, much like the Weeping Forest had done, while ugly red bugs crawled over his legs.

  In a spasm of panic, Ian swatted the creatures away and leapt to his feet, spinning in a complete circle. Instantly dizzy, he touched the side of his head, surprised when his fingers came back bloody. Slowly, the events of the past day came back to his memory.

  He remembered watching Whisper closely as she spoke to the guard, trying to read her lips but unsuccessful in his attempts. That look of calculating deceit had worried him, and he’d had a feeling of dread, knowing that something terrible was about to happen. The guard, a man named Hunting Hawk, had stared at Whisper as though amused by her tough façade, then his eyes darkened. When Whisper glanced Ian’s way, the fear set in.