Ian nearly tripped over a fallen corpse that was wasting away into ashes. Righting himself, he momentarily contemplated making Cole walk because he was so off-balance before chastising himself on such stupidity.
The force of the Western Sun was incredible, pulling him two steps back for every three forward. His feet dug into the ground, toes cramping as they curled around what was left of his shoes. A shout of extreme effort and determination escaped his lips, his hands gripping Cole by the shoulder and waist as he fought to move his legs, heavy with extra weight.
To combat the Western Sun, Ian leaned further forward, blinking rapidly as his eyes finally settled and his vision completely cleared. But a sudden hand clamping across his ankle had him crashing to his knees, kicking at the scorched black arm reaching for him and his son. The dead soul was groaning and foaming at the mouth, empty eye sockets peering at nothing as they stared straight at Ian. After so long a time before the Western Sun, not even getting his distance could cure his blindness. With a ferocious snarl, Ian kicked the fallen corpse in the face and freed his foot, crawling to his knees.
“Daddy! Hurry!” Cole frantically jabbed Ian’s shoulder, pointing behind them. Ian looked back to see Hunting Hawk burst forth from the Western Sun, arm raised, horse panting as saliva dripped from its crusted lips.
“God help me,” Ian muttered, struggling to his feet but tumbling back to his knees beneath both the weight of his son and the force of the Western Sun that was determined to suck him back in. At least four feet of track marks scarred the earth before him where he had been dragged back after being grabbed by the dead soul. There was no way to move, no way to escape the wrath of the last guard of the Raven-Eater as he raced closer and closer, the Western Sun barely affecting his stride.
Cole screamed in terror when he saw the familiar guard, burying his head in Ian’s shoulder when Hunting Hawk lifted his bow and knocked a deadly arrow. Panicking in his immobility, Ian crawled on his hands and knees in a blind escape, disgruntled shouts echoing across the land as he was heaved further and further back, closer and closer to Hunting Hawk.
Dirt and grit clogging his eyes as he looked over his shoulder, the roar of the Western Sun nearly deafening him, Ian could only think that after all this, after so much pain and doubt and struggling, he had failed. Hunting Hawk released the arrow, and Ian could only close his eyes and wait.
A grunt behind him had Ian jumping and spinning around to see a second rotting dead soul collapsing to the ground. She held a jagged blade made of stone that fell from her fingers as black blood gushed from the arrow’s wound. An assassin for the Raven-Eater, Ian wondered, or just another lost soul searching for salvation?
He didn’t have time to find the answer, though, for before he knew what was happening Hunting Hawk had closed in, reached down, and grabbed Ian by the shoulder with a strength not humanly possible. His feet dragged on the ground as the guard carried him across the bright orange earth, not speaking a word but instead merely staring straight ahead through eyes still adjusting to the light. Ian grabbed Hunting Hawk’s wrist and fought back, not realizing until the guard dropped him at the base of the Western Sun’s pull that he was helping, not harming.
“Hurry,” Hunting Hawk ordered, pointing in the direction of the Bridge of the Dead. “The Army of the Dead will soon pass, and your world will be destroyed.”
Confused, Ian picked himself up and gently set Cole down. Cole clung to his father’s leg, peering suspiciously at the guard. All around them, dead souls continued to pass, some dropping before they could reach the Western Sun. “I don’t understand,” Ian said through a mouthful of dust. “I thought you served the Raven-Eater.”
“I serve my own purpose,” Hunting Hawk replied indifferently. It would have taken too long to explain that he served the Raven-Eater only to save his soul from eternal wandering, and now that the half-breed had returned, the Land of the Dead could be restored. While time was a luxury in death, it was now something that could not be ignored. “Cross the Bridge of the Dead, and return to the waters of your death. You and your son must drown before you can return. When you surface, you must head for Howling Vines. The Elder will know what to do from there.”
“And what will you do?” Yet again, he felt the guilt of leaving behind someone who had the chance of life, but was returning to death to save him and his son. That, and it slightly annoyed him to know that the entire time he was running from a man who was only trying to help.
“The half-breed faces corruption,” Hunting Hawk answered, his deep voice hoarse in the harsh wind. “The Land of the Dead depends on her salvation. I will fight off the Army of the Dead as long as I can so you have time to reach the lake. But I can only fight on this side of the Western Sun, where I am free from the Raven-Eater’s reign. Now go. You do not have much time left. ”
With that, Hunting Hawk steered the giant beast back into the Western Sun, leaving Ian to face the rest of his journey alone.
Chapter 40
Olivia had given up on David’s outlandish plan, and refused to be around him any longer. Just that morning she packed her things and gave her husband an ultimatum—to release Julia, or lose his wife. Now she was on her way home; David had made his choice. He believed in his actions, believed in the Elder, and knew that if Ian and Whisper succeeded, none of them would ever remember any of this horrible, heart-wrenching time. It had taken everything in his power to get Olivia to leave without finding a way to free their daughter, and he feared that if Whisper’s mission failed, then she would wither away from the guilt and self-hate of what she had let happen, what she knowingly left behind.
David and Julia sat on opposite sides of the bathroom door, both leaning against the thick wood listening to the other breathe heavily. Julia had abandoned her escape attempts, hands raw from pounding the wood, fingers scabbed from picking at the hinges and edges of the doorknob. Her cheeks were stained from thick tears, and her heart was torn between hating her father for what he was doing and grieving for his inability to accept his grandson’s death. David had already explained his reasoning behind his actions, and while Julia didn’t believe in such foolishness, her father was steadfast in his belief. She knew her father well, knew that when he believed in something he never backed down. But what she couldn’t understand was how a man so devout in his military creed could put so much faith in mystical nonsense.
As she rested her back against the door, Julia toyed with a framed picture of her son. Cole was happily hugging a goat he had bonded with at a small spring festival. The goat was chewing on the collar of his shirt, Cole laughing as he clung to the animal. It was one of her favorite pictures, one she would cherish forever. For all her father was doing to her, she was happy that he had included the photograph in his stock of supplies.
On the other side of the door, David could hear his daughter sniffling. He closed his eyes, feeling more sluggish than ever before and not knowing why. Every movement seemed to take incredible effort, and it seemed like the morning was lasting forever. If he had known of the Elder’s last action, he would have thus known that his heartbeat had decreased, less blood pumping through his body, the sun rising and lowering slower. The three days Julia had been locked in the bathroom would have been closer to six were Smoke Speaker not to give up his life.
What David did know, however, was that with each shade of gray that darkened the sky, the Army of the Dead was that much closer to crossing through to the Land of the Living. Ian didn’t have much time left.
“Things will never be the same now, will they, Dad?” She wasn’t expecting an answer. David hadn’t spoken to her since the previous night, after she cursed his beliefs, as well as his supposed love for his family. Sighing and tearing her eyes away from the precious picture, she rested her head against the wood and chewed her bottom lip.
“This is never going to end. Never. Everyone has chosen sides,” she continued, mostly to herself. “Mom chose my side….the media chose Cole’s…you chose the Elde
r.” And that hurt most of all.
David considered his daughter’s words. It was true, he thought. The television was covered with accusations, support, theories. Everyone had an opinion on Cole’s murder, everyone thought they knew best. “And whose side have you chosen, Julia?”
The sound of her father’s voice startled her, as did the question. She chose her son’s side, obviously. She was Cole’s mother, and it was her job to hate and despise anyone who stood in her way. And yet…..
“I still love him, Dad.” She laughed a sarcastic laugh of disbelief. “After what he did…I still want him back. What the hell is wrong with me?”
The revelation both pleased and disappointed him. “Julia…do you truly believe Ian is capable of murdering Cole?”
She could lie to herself, but not to her father. “No,” she admitted with a heavy sigh. “I don’t think I ever really thought that. But he did leave, Dad, and that I can’t ignore. He just…disappeared, right along with that Whisper woman.”
“That doesn’t mean he left you, honey.”
“Oh, right. It means he went to the Land of the Dead to save Cole from the evil Raven-Eater.” The scorn in her tone was obvious, but David let it go. “No, Dad. He didn’t go to some mythical place. He left his family for a younger woman. He found his way out. He’s been thinking about it ever since he hired that tramp of a secretary, and finally acted on his thoughts.”
Oh yes, she knew about the redheaded temptation flirting up a storm in his office. Sure, Rebecca was sweet to her face, but there was something about the way she batted those long lashes at Ian that triggered suspicion in Julia. A young woman who looked like that, dressed the way she did, was nothing but trouble. And when Ian started working later, becoming lost in thought more often, Julia had known it was just a matter of time before she came home to find them in bed. The camping trip was to be her last straw, Ian’s last chance to prove his loyalty. And he had failed.
But what if her father was right? What if, on the crazy, one-in-a-million chance that there was some greater power in this world, Ian had gone to save Cole? Or had gone to save Cole truly believing he was doing the right thing, whether or not such a place existed? Smoke Speaker certainly believed in his people, and there were no doubts in her father’s mind. How far would her husband go for his family?
“I have to bury my son,” Julia said determinedly, a hot tear streaming down her cheek. “No matter what you believe, no matter where Ian is, this isn’t fair to Cole. He deserves a proper burial. My son…your grandson, deserves that much from you.”
The few seconds that passed seemed like hours, but soon Julia heard the click above her head. She jumped to her feet, feeling slightly sluggish as she steadied herself, and yanked open the door. Her father stood before her, sadness and defeat spread across his face.
“Have you lost faith in Ian, Julia?”
Pausing long enough to think about her answer, Julia hated the only reply she could think of, because it was true. She held up her left hand, where her wedding ring still shimmered beneath the lights. “I just can’t bring myself to take it off.”
Then she brushed past her father, setting her sights on the morgue. She had more important things to worry about than David’s beliefs, Ian’s whereabouts, or her own conflicted emotions towards people who would never be in her life ever again.
Whisper stood in what was to be her new room, looking out at the black smoke that clouded the Western Sun. She didn’t know if Ian and Cole were still alive out there, navigating the flames, and for some reason, she didn’t care. Ultimately, she didn’t need them to fulfill her mission. She needed only her own self, and the power steadily building within her soul.
This was where she belonged; she could feel it deep within her heart. Growing up, there had always been something missing. Although Smoke Speaker did his best to provide a home filled with laughter, happiness, and love, Whisper had never felt like anything more than a replacement daughter. Her entire life had been devoted to training, a destiny she had no choice but to follow as the Elder taught her the ways of their ancestors in preparation for a future she could not deny. Her fate was to kill her father, and save her mother. There was no other path.
But now she was given a choice, to go through with Smoke Speaker’s training, or to join forces with a being who could literally hand her the world. She felt no connection to her mother, as she barely remembered the timid, unremarkable woman, and supposed her only loyalty to Blue Feather was the fact that she sent her daughter away for her safety. But she felt no connection with the Raven-Eater either, and cared nothing for his well-being. The one person she had ever loved was the man who saw her only as a way to save his daughter, rather than as a granddaughter. But she couldn’t fault him for that. Smoke Speaker had traveled to the Land of the Dead with the intention of rescuing his daughter, being forced to return with a child he’d never known about instead. It was a sacrifice she could not imagine.
“You have become a beautiful woman, Kanegv,” a voice said from behind. Whisper turned to see Gentle Heart standing just inside the massive room decorated with
genuine articles of their heritage. Her face was shadowed with a dark bruise, a gift of hate from her husband as punishment for her deceit. “I always knew you would be.” Whisper crossed her arms suspiciously as Gentle Heart took a few steps closer. It was strange to think of the woman before her as her mother, as she looked barely a year or two older. “My uwetsiageyv.”
Whisper pulled back when Gentle Heart reached out to stroke her cheek. Her eyes filled with bitterness. “I am no woman’s daughter,” she replied harshly. “I was born in death.”
Sorrow nipped at Gentle Heart’s soul, mainly because it was true. Whisper was a half-breed, a creature that had no true stake to any one being. She was crafted of the two halves that made up the world, and as such, was more a part of the earth than she was any mother and father. For that reason, she had trouble forging relationships, a disbelief in the concept of love and affection.
“You were also born in life, Kanegv,” Gentle Heart whispered, touching her daughter lightly on the arm. “There are two sides to every stone. Only you can decide which one faces the sun.”
Whisper turned then, and for just the briefest of moments Gentle Heart saw compassion and understanding flicker across her face. Then it was replaced by doubt and disbelief. “There are two sides, Blue Feather,” she agreed, a hint of sadness in her voice, “but one cannot turn the stone alone.”
“Then let me—”
“You have no power here,” Whisper interrupted, the hardness back in her voice as though the stronger side of her had overcome the other. “My path is my own.”
Giving up, Gentle Heart’s shoulders sunk as she asked, “And the side you choose to reveal to the Western Sun?”
Her daughter’s lips curled into a righteous sneer as she spoke the word that had granted her passage by the Watchmen. “…Atleisdi.”
“Against who?”
Even when Gentle Heart gasped and stumbled back a few steps, Whisper didn’t move a muscle, her back to the Raven-Eater as she glared at her mother and he stepped into the doorway. “Atleisdi,” she said again, drawing out the word with glee, “against the one who forced me into the Land of the Living.”
From behind, the Raven-Eater shared in Whisper’s evil glare of daggers and hate. He shifted his eyes to Gentle Heart, who had paled in the realization of her fate. Yes, he thought with a nod, the time has come. “Your use has run out, woman,” he told her, grabbing the woman who was no longer his wife by the arm. He could find another wife, a woman more capable of meeting his demands, who would know better than to deceive him. “Tonight, you shall die by the hand of the one you bore.”
Chapter 41
They were so close now, so close to the end of their horrific journey, and only the Bridge of the Dead stood in their way.
Whisper hadn’t prepared him for this, for this incredible sprint across the world, for the nonstop torture
of searing agony that pulsed through his veins with every step. As he raced across the Land of the Dead, dodging falling fire and gritting his teeth together when sparks pierced his tattered clothing and smoldered into his skin, he racked his brain with ways to approach the obstacle that had nearly taken his life in the beginning of their journey. He was weaker now, covered with excruciating blisters that were scabbed and oozing pus. His face was charred red, his blonde hair black with dirt and grime, every inch of his body wrapped with lacerations, bruises, and tiny nicks. Cole, thankfully, wasn’t so worse for the wear, but he was weak nonetheless.
Sweat poured down Ian’s face and into his eyes as he neared the deadly bridge. From the distance he could see it was empty, could hear the screams of the fallen as they plunged to their deaths into a time without end. Dead souls lined the bone gate that encircled the hut of the Watchmen, waiting for the next victim to cross the Bridge of the Dead.
The fear of those three evil cats waiting for him nearly made Ian stumble to a halt before he even reached the bridge. He could take their wrath, could willingly suffer the revenge that they very well deserved, but would take his own life before letting them harm his son. So he slowed as he reached the edge, anxiously awaiting his fate.
As expected, the animals he once scorned throughout his life appeared along the
Bridge of the Dead, staring at him with those accusatory eyes that demanded revenge. Sucking in a nervous breath when the hawk and pelican perched warily on the railing, Ian began his walk of vengeance.
Then something happened that shocked him into stillness.
The three cats moved to the side of the bridge, lying down and resting their heads on their front paws. The insects and mice scurried to the edges, creating a clear path, while the birds fluttered their wings and turned so their backs were to the travelers, settling in as though for a good night’s sleep.
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