Son of Sun (Forgotten Gods (Book 2)) (14 page)

Rounded, laughing faces shouted and cheered, fighting for a place at his side. Dusty little hands disappeared into his pockets and the loosened folds of his pack, greedily grasping for chocolate bars he handed out as we progressed. Silently, I watched in awe as the waist high mob swarmed him, everyone pushing to be near him. So much so that they pushed me out of the way, causing me to fall back against one of the stone buildings we passed.

Stopping for a moment to catch my breath and watch Chassan pass out chocolate bars that held more value than Paititi gold to these children, I noticed there was one set of black eyes locked on me instead of Chassan.

A little girl stood out from the rest, dressed in a spotless white shift with vibrant red flowers woven into the hem and neckline. All the other kids were covered in dust that I was learning was impossible to avoid in this country. The little girl, on the other hand, looked as if she had just stepped from the shower, hair clean and shimmering like oil in the sun, face washed to reveal a lovely russet glow, and sandals impossibly spotless.

I smiled at the little girl and she immediately ran toward me, taking my hand as the others had grabbed onto Chassan’s.

When she looked up at me, I gasped. The world went black and white and I recognized the beautiful black eyes from my visions. They danced and laughed, merry black eyes that looked so adoringly at me I didn’t feel worthy. My heart swelled and ached at the same time, as if she clasped it too tightly in her little brown hand. I’d felt that feeling before, and any reservations I had about traveling to Peru vanished from my mind at the sight of her. Something had led me here. Something had led me to her. Finally, my life was beginning to have purpose.

I wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. That I was with her and whatever was trying to hurt her in my dream wouldn’t. I would protect her no matter what. But things like that would’ve been impossible to explain to an adult, let alone a child.

I settled for squeezing her hand, and she returned the gesture by resting her cheek on my hand as we walked behind Chassan’s mob. Her smooth cheeks, warmed by the sun, sent a pang of happiness straight to my chest. My heart stuttered, overwhelmed by the feeling this little girl stirred inside me. Immediately, I was so protective of her it hurt. I had seen her future. I knew someone wanted to hurt her, and if it was the last thing I did, I would keep that from happening.

Our little parade ended at a stone and thatched roof hut, just outside the fine walls of the temple. With a nod, Chassan answered whatever the leader had said and bowed as the parade continued on.

The little girl turned to me, and speaking in a tongue that was alien to my ears, uttered a few sentences before releasing my hand and departing with the crowd. I wanted to run after her, to call her back, but Chassan stopped me.

“What did she say?” I whirled around to him, desperate to know.

“She said she would come and get you when the women go to the stream for a bath this evening.”

“Who is she?” I turned back, searching for her in the crowd of children.

“The king’s granddaughter.”

“I’ve seen her in my visions, Chassan. She’s in great danger here.”

“Look around you, Faye. They are all in great danger compared to the life you live.” With that Chassan turned, ducking as he entered the hut.

I watched the little girl until I could no longer make out her white dress and then joined him.

There were thick bed rolls laid out in the center of the hut around a stone fireplace. The floor was dirt, covered with layers of dried grass. On either side of the main room stood openings that led to other rooms. Chassan had already managed to release his own pack and walked over to help me with mine. I had grown accustomed to its weight on our hike, and almost forgot I had it on.

It fell to the floor with a dusty
thunk
and I rolled my shoulders to release the muscles that had supported it, not because they ached but because it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Is this where we’re staying?” I tried not to let my opinion of our prehistoric lodgings show in my voice, but of course Chassan picked up on it.

He frowned and turned to his pack. “You can always go back to the woods if you’d prefer.”

I peered into one of the rooms, seeing it was completely empty. “I’ll probably set up my sleeping bag in here,” I thumbed toward the private room.

“Suit yourself. It gets really cold here at night, but sleep where you want.” Chassan grumbled as he began to take inventory of his camera gear.

“What was that thing you did to Rhea?” I asked, now that we were alone.

Chassan sighed, and set his camera equipment down.

“You know the legend, right? That I transport souls of the dead to my father in heaven?”

I nodded, sitting down on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Well, every soul doesn’t get to go to heaven. Only the good ones.”

“What does that have to do with your hand shake last night?”

“I’m the one who decides which souls ascend, and which souls don’t. With a single touch, I can see the life they’ve lived. Whether it was good. Whether it was bad. Last night, I needed to know if I could trust Rhea. So...” Chassan’s voice drifted off and he shrugged casually.

“So you read her mind?”

He nodded.

“Wait. You saw everything? Just by holding her hand for two seconds?” I gasped, and drew my hand into my chest, scurrying through my thoughts, trying to remember if he’d ever held my hand like he had Rhea’s.

“Everything,” he answered in a low, dull voice.

“Is that why you don’t like being touched?”

His head jerked up, his eyes raking over me from head to heels, obviously surprised I noticed how he recoiled from human contact. Finally he sighed, and dragged a hand through his cropped, golden hair.

“If I’m prepared for contact—if I know the touch is coming—I can control what I do or don’t see. When I’m not prepared, and someone touches me, their life invades my brain like a streak of lightening. All the good and all the bad they’ve ever done.” Chassan chewed at his lip and stared into the corner of the room as he thought. “Believe me, the secrets most people carry around aren’t something you want to see.”

“Yeah, I’m used to seeing a lot of things I don’t wan to see,” I admitted absently as I made a mental note to keep my hands off Chassan.

The king assembled a feast to honor us that evening. Just as she had promised, Anyi, arrived with her servants and took me to bathe in the stream. I didn’t think it was possible that I would ever have another bath that felt as good as that one, after days of hiking in the dust bowls of Peru.

Anyi was endlessly fascinated by my golden curls, insisting on braiding ribbons and flowers into my hair as we sat drying by the river bank. What spoken communication we had was horribly broken Spanish at best, but there was no need for words. We understood each other in a way that strengthened the bond I felt with her even more. I knew why she was immediately a part of my heart, but I had no idea why I was so quickly welcomed into hers.

I was dressed in a bright blue borrowed caftan, hair tied in Anyi’s whimsical up-do, when the women from the palace ushered us into the entrance of the temple. The little girl took my hand and I followed her through the palace halls to dinner, feeling prettier than I had in weeks.

When we burst into an anterior room every servant hit the floor as she walked by. Dinner’s delicious smell hung heavy in the room, a scent that made my deprived tummy rumble.

The little girl snickered behind her hand and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her dancing black eyes.

Chassan sat to the king’s right, deep in conversation. The entire room froze when we arrived, several gasps echoing over the seated guests. My eyes darted around the room, feeling a crimson blush creep into my cheeks as everyone stared at us like we had two heads. When I found Chassan’s eyes, his rage was murderous, but he managed to keep it in check. Barely. Anyi and I made our way to king’s table where Chassan waited. My eyes found the ground, unable to look into his contemptuous golden glare. In turn, Anyi introduced me to her family, each one’s eyes running cautiously over me. I took my seat beside a seething Chassan and felt his anger radiating hot as solar flare.

I flinched when leaned in and whispered into my ear.

“Have you lost your mind?” He growled.

His angry tone confused me. I swept a look around the room trying to understand what I had done wrong. And then it hit me.

Everyone in the room, even Anyi’s family, studied me with guarded looks. It didn’t take long for me to realize why. Life-sized murals of Incan deities ran the length of the dining hall’s wall. Dressed as I was, in Anyi’s borrowed caftan with my hair pulled up, I could have stepped from one of the paintings. The Q’ero were descendants of the Incas, they still worshipped the old gods in the old ways. Every eye I turned to focused intently on me. Reverent silence stilled the room, everyone fearing what my presence in their midst meant.

“Take my hand!” Chassan barked under his breath. I started to do as I was told, but stopped, remembering what he could accomplish with a single touch.

Chassan grabbed my hand and slammed our balled fists to the table so forcefully the plates jumped.

“Only royalty may touch the gods,” he whispered in explanation.

As I looked back around the table, the eyes were no longer focused on me, everyone having seen the disrespectful way Chassan treated me and no longer fearing there might be a god in their midst.

His hand was hot as fire, hard as stone and clasped so tightly around mine I feared my bones might snap. His mood was palpable, grumbling answers to questions and barely touching his food. Still, he held my hand for everyone to see. Yet, didn’t look my way or speak to me once.

From a seat behind her grandfather, the little girl made faces at me and grinned through the entire dinner. When the final course was cleared Chassan excused us, and practically dragged me from the temple to our hut.

“Take that off now, and don’t ever wear it again!” He barked as soon as the hut door clattered closed.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” I put my hands on my hips and stuck my chin in the air, holding my ground. “It was a gift from Anyi!” His foul temper didn’t scare me anymore and I certainly wasn’t going to let him tell me what I could and could not wear.

His eyes flashed dangerous deep ochre, the color they turned when his magic was waking up. In two strides he crossed the room, his face inches from mine as he stared down at me with a look that could have withered a redwood. I cowered, taken aback to see such a look focused at me. My eyes found his chest, which was rising and falling so quickly I feared what his next move would be.

“There are things about these people you don’t know, Faye.” His voice was ice cold, barely restrained to a civil tone. “Things you could never understand. You sought me out to teach you, and that’s what I’m doing. I said, take off the dress.”

I turned away from him, forcing back the tears that stung the back of my eyeballs. A rush of wind stirred the fires flames, causing them to whistle as they burned low. When I turned back around to ask him what he was talking about, he was gone.

Jerk!
I screamed in my mind. My hands balled into fists at my sides. I tore the dress from my body and launched it across the room onto his pack.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I grabbed my bed roll and dragged it into the other room, huffing and fuming all the way.

Sleep should’ve been impossible that night, I was so upset. But somehow, the day caught up with me, and my eyes closed to a fitful sleep.

I was shivering
uncontrollably when I awoke, an ice cycle of snot hanging from my frozen nose. My body quaked and strained to warm itself, which was impossible despite the layers of woven wool and down sleeping bag snuggling me.

Fire flickered from the outer room, and although I was prepared to pout with Chassan like a little child until he apologized to me, freezing to death in the wilds of Peru wasn’t really something I wanted to do.

Dragging my bedroll back into the room, I assumed he would be up reading. Since he didn’t need sleep, and all. But when I entered the room, it was empty. He was gone—a realization that let the night’s chill creep further into my bones. The only comfort I had was his camera case, laying open on a shelf, a great empty hole in the black foam where his long lens usually slept. After out fight, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave me. But his camera equipment, I was certain, he would come back for.

Sleeping was impossible after that. Even when warmth returned to my body, I still couldn’t doze off. Chassan was apparently just as upset with me as I was with him. Lying there, I realized how childish I had been.

Chassan was helping me, something I desperately needed. I don’t know why I was so upset with him for the way he treated me. It wasn’t like he was Dayne. He was nothing to me other than an impossibly moody teacher. We didn’t have to like each other to get through this. In fact, it was probably better if we didn’t like each other. Chassan wasn’t the kind of god that wanted any friends around. He was a loner. But for some reason, he had agreed to let me stay. The idea of apologizing to him made my stomach churn with disgust, but I knew I had to.

When the sun began to rise, I gave up trying to sleep, tossing the sleeping bag off me and dressing for the coming day. I’m not sure how long I sat staring into the fire, running my fingers through the flames and feeling it flood down to my core like an electric shock. Only it wasn’t a bad shock. It was addictive almost, like my body would never get enough of it.

Feet shuffled outside the hut and I quickly pulled my hand from the flames, fearing Chassan would catch me. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slender fingers of light pulling at the door when it opened and she stood before me like a ghostly vision.

It was Anyi, clothed only in a thin nightgown, a contrite look on her downcast face. My blood ran cold, worried what her expression could mean. After waking to an empty hut, I feared something might be wrong with Chassan.

“Anyi?” I stood from my place by the fire and went to her, taking her hand as I knelt down beside her.

After a moment of staring at the floor, she sighed and her black eyes found mine. Her feet were bare, a thin cotton gown all she had to block the cold morning mist. She tugged at my hand as if she wanted me to follow her. Grabbing the blue caftan I had worn the night before from where it lay on Chassan’s pack, I wrapped it over her shoulders, and nodded.

Leading me by the hand, we wandered through the deserted village streets, past sleeping huts with smoke rising lazily from their chimneys, past makeshift corrals where llamas and alpacas huddled close while the munched hay and tried to stay warm, past guards sleeping on duty by the temple walls.

She led me into the woods, at which point I swept her into my arms and carried her, so the stones would not cut her bare feet. The morning lay silent over the mountain, those quiet, eery moments when the animals of night have gone to sleep, but their daytime replacements have yet to wake.

Morning mist, so thick I could barely see, clung to the tree tops, snaking white wisps of phantom fingers down to the ground in the distance. Adrenaline spiked through my veins, killing what chill remained and I hugged Anyi closely to keep her warm as well.

Her black eyes looked from the trail to me, and she pointed to a long deserted path turning off to the left. A path I now realized she had shown me in my vision two days ago at the altar. I nodded and followed her directions.

The trail turned down a great hill, so steep Anyi scrambled to my back so I could hold onto trees as we descended. A stream lay across the path when it evened out, way too wide to cross, and I wasn’t about to leap the thing with witnesses around, even little Anyi.

Anyi scrambled down from my back and approached the stream. I wanted to call her back, tell her she would surely catch a cold if she got wet, but I didn’t.

In the breaking light of dawn, a tiny brown foot extended from the hem of her white gown and plunged into the stream, followed by another. Looking as if she were walking on water, she picked her path across the river on submerged stones only someone who traveled this trail often would know were there.

I followed her path, feeling for the stones with tentative toes as I followed her across the water.

On the far side of the river, the trail was all but invisible. Again, Anyi crawled up onto my back and pointed the way. The lower part of the trail was clear, making me bend low as we walked. I knew immediately it was because Anyi, a tiny girl of maybe eight, was the only one who had traveled it in ages.

A hundred yards into the forest, we came to an opening, much like the one I had stumbled upon days before. Only this site was long abandoned. The wooden planks were rotted, covered over by vines and underbrush as the forest worked to reclaim it. The ancient split logs crumbled under my weight, but I continued on, holding Anyi’s legs securely around my middle. Slowly, we approached the altar at the far end.

This time, instead of finding an altar where a human sacrifice had been burned, we found a gaping, vine covered mouth marking the entrance of a long forgotten cave. Again, Anyi scrambled from my back. The sun had risen higher in the sky, but still not high enough to give the kind of light I would have preferred to have lighting my way into a darkened cave.

“Chassan?” I called in a low whisper, wondering if he was lurking somewhere near. No one answered, and Anyi took my hand, pulling me toward the cave.

As we entered on our hands and knees into the confined space, the suffocating smell of damp earth, aging rocks and moss filled my senses. The floor of the cave was wet, water running in a tiny vein along one side. Still Anyi pressed further into the cave, unafraid of what may be lurking there. In my mind, I could imagine all sorts of things—pumas, vultures, sulking sun gods. But Anyi wasn’t the least bit afraid.

Further into the cave, the walls began to widen enough to stand and when we reached a central room, sunlight burst onto the walls through an opening high on the cave wall, sending a single shaft of light spilling into the dark like a beacon.

The walls were light grey stone, the floor craggy and ragged. Anyi’s smile was megawatt bright, her cheeks pulled into little apples of color. As the sun rose higher more light spilled in the opening until I saw why she was smiling, and the reason she had brought me to this cave.

She waved a hand toward the far wall, where a painted mural—obviously as old as the mountains—stretched its colors in the bright light.

I stumbled forward, entranced by the simple wonder of ancient cave paintings. They were crude at first, bright red stick figures marching across the stone. Then rounded, more detailed images of horses, their heads flailing into the air as they pranced proudly over the rough walls.

As the quality improved, so did the meaning of the images. Scenes of farm life, men bent to their tasks in the fields, and women pulling thread through giant looms. War scenes, where men marched to battle with spears and bows ready to defend their world.

The murals stopped abruptly near waist height. Still, my eyes traveled upward as the sun rose higher and spilled more light onto the cave wall.