Son of Sun (Forgotten Gods (Book 2)) (13 page)

Chassan released her hand, and immediately, Rhea snapped out of it, shaking her head and standing up straighter, as if she hadn’t just lost the last five seconds of her life to whatever sun-god trickery Chassan was up to.

“I know you!” She wrinkled her eyebrow again, this time in realization. “You’re a famous wildlife photographer, right?”

Famous wildlife photographer? Chassan?
My mind spun wildly, searching for a way to half-truth our way out of this one. Chassan was a lot of things, but he lived his life locked in a rock, not roaming the wilds with a camera on his back. Only, a sneeze could have knocked me down when Chassan nodded, dropping his head as if he were humbled by her recognition.

What?!?

I stood there, silently dumbfounded, eyes darting from Rhea to Chassan, and then lingering on Chassan like he was a complete stranger.

“I love your work. You managed to make Peru come alive on paper like no one else.”

Chassan looked sheepishly over at me and then back to her.

“Thank you,” he said simply, bowing his head again.

“Where are you guys camping?” Rhea crossed her arms against a chill that was beginning to seep into the falling night. By that point, I was struck to dumb staring, and totally incapable of speech.

“We don’t know yet. We were just about to stop when you scared us half to death popping out of the woods like that.” Chassan playfully smiled at Rhea.

“Well, stay with us. One of the guys in my group knew about this abandoned site in the woods. It’s perfect.”

Until then, the fact that I was going to have to spend the night in the woods with Chassan, all by myself, hadn’t really registered. Realizing how unbearably long a night spent across the campfire from him would be, Rhea’s invitation was irresistible.

“Are you sure?” I asked, but was already following her into the woods.

“We’d be honored.” Rhea said, taking me under her arm. “Unless you wanted privacy,” she whispered in my ear, digging a finger in my ribs as we walked onto the path she had emerged from.

“Oh!” I half yelled, stopping in my tracks as she continued on. “No...
noooo...
we’d love to stay with you!” I way overemphasized the ‘no’ to hopefully quench any thoughts Rhea had about the nature of our relationship. As far as Chassan and I were concerned, we were merely
tolerating
each other. And at that moment, Rhea seemed to know more about my traveling companion than I did.

When Rhea disappeared ahead of me, I turned back to Chassan.

“Famous wildlife photographer? Don’t you think you should have mentioned that?” I spat the words at him.

“You didn’t ask.” His shrug was frustratingly easy, and he stepped around me to follow Rhea.

“What was that hand shake thing you did to her?” I whisper-yelled at him, my patience slipping away.

“Faye? Chassan? You coming?” Rhea’s voice cut through the grey night.

“Later,” Chassan answered with a reprimanding look and disappeared into the dark.

With nothing but
shadows to light the path, we picked our way toward muffled voices and a fire’s soft glow, collecting twigs and branches to feed it as we went.

Rhea’s campsite was nothing more than a clear, level spot in the forest. After hiking all day, my body and mind as exhausted as they were, it looked as luxurious as a five star resort.

Five curious faces, bathed in shadow and golden flames, turned to us when we emerged from the forest, arms laden with firewood. Strangers were an oddity in country so remote, and the eyes cautiously welcomed us into their midst, both appraising and sizing us up. My stomach somersaulted with a pang of panic when the studious glances quickly passed over me and came to rest, with alarm, on Chassan, whose muscles bulged under the load of wood he carried.

For an uncomfortable second no one moved, every eye locked on Chassan, whose chiseled features glowed like the magnificent golden god he was against shadowy firelight. The muffled voices fell silent. Only the fire dared to speak, crackling as it sent orange embers heavenward with its smoke. One brave soul collected his thoughts quickly enough to rise from his spot near the fire and make his way around the circle of blank faces to meet us. His welcome brought life back to the little group, stunned to dumb wonder at the strange beauty that had stumbled into their midst.

“You’re never going to believe who I found wandering these woods!” Rhea exclaimed, dropping her arm load of wood beside a campmate’s makeshift kitchen.

Our welcome was unenthusiastic, until Rhea informed them a celebrity was in their midst. When they discovered who Chassan was, they were falling over themselves to welcome him into their circle.

All except for one.

Two men, introduced as Professor Abrams and his research assistant, Todd, were practically salivating as they gingerly lifted Chassan’s camera from the rock he sat it on to remove his pack. Carefully clicking through his photos like they were as priceless as Paititi gold. A native man, holding a long metal cooking fork, left his post as cook to look over their shoulders at the images causing such ruckus. A humble native woman, somewhere in age between Rhea and myself, offered Chassan a drink with a starstruck half smile. No way she knew who he was. She was simply enamored with a handsome man. An effect I was quickly learning Chassan had on most women.

The one who acted as if nothing interesting had happened looked to be as old as the mountain itself. Two tails of flowing white hair, braided and caught with a length of leather, hung down his shoulders. Deep lines cut the length of his tanned face into ravines, making him appear both weathered and wise. He wore a simple shirt and hiking shorts, his attention focused on the stick he carved, not the commotion caused by our arrival.

It was this man, whom Rhea called Luke, that Chassan chose to lay his bedroll beside when dinner was done. Pulling his own carving knife from a pocket on his pack and selecting one of the twigs from our pile. In their own silent way, they found an accord with one another.

Directly across the fire from them, Rhea and I spread my own sleeping bag out beside her. A sleeping bag I had never seen before that moment. Cautiously digging through my pack as if it belonged to someone else, I was slightly floored to see Chassan had packed me a weeks worth of clothing and all the toiletries I would need for this trip. All while I was sleeping, and without any directions from me on size. I didn’t know if that made him awesome or creepy.

“This sleeping bag feels like a feather bed!” Rhea exclaimed as we unrolled it on the ground. She flopped down on the overstuffed nylon and spread her arms and legs wide to enjoy its cool, cozy comfort. “Oh! I could sleep for days! Where’d you get it?”

“Um….it’s Chassan’s.” I answered, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

“So where did you get
him
?” Rhea asked in a low whisper as she rolled over to prop on her elbow, naughtily waggling an eyebrow. “Certainly wish
my
soul searching at Machu Picchu had found something like that!” She bit her lip as if Chassan might taste as good as he looked, stealing a peek through the flames to where he sat. I dropped my head, my hair falling forward to hide my blush.

“Machu Picchu,” I answered simply.

“Lucky dog. Why are you going to the Q’ero?”

“Chassan’s idea,” I shrugged vaguely. Aware of the possibility that my face might be saying something else entirely, I began to study the zipper of my pack in great detail.

“Don’t blame you a bit. I’d follow him just about anywhere he’d let me! Where have you been so far?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” I said with a wrinkle-faced sigh, unable to recall anything but grasslands and forests from an entire day’s worth of hiking. Until one memory came into focus and my sigh turned to a frown. “Though, I did stumble on something this afternoon as we were hiking that I can’t get out of my mind.”

“What’s that?” Rhea sat up, turning her back to the fire. I peeked over her shoulder to be sure no one else was listening.

“I found an altar hidden in the jungle,” I whispered. “Chassan said it was used for human sacrifice?”

Rhea raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips, and nodded her head solemnly. “No doubt. The area is much more primal than what you’ll find in the tourist cities. They worship the old gods, in the old ways.”

I curled my lip in revulsion, brows drawn into a pucker as I thought about how barbaric it all was.

“Um-hum,” Rhea nodded with a gravely empathetic look. “Not too long ago, archeologists found a small boy and girl on an altar in a mountain top cave not far from here. For centuries, the cold preserved them just as they were the day they died. Perfect little ice mummies. By the finery of their clothes it was determined they were royal children. Probably fed coca leaves so they would sleep and then left to freeze to death as an offering to the gods.”

“
Child
sacrifice?” My body stilled in outrage. “That’s...that’s sadistic!”

“To us, yes. To them, no.” Rhea shook her head sympathetically, casting a glance to where the native man and woman were lying on the ground fully clothed, curled into themselves without a fluffy sleeping bag to keep them warm. “Life is hard here, Faye. Death lurks around every corner for these people...disease, famine, accidents. It’s not an easy life. They’ve learned to see a beauty in death we could never comprehend.”

“But why do they sacrifice themselves to gods who no longer exist?”

“Who are you to say what does and does not exist?” Rhea frowned at me. “Do
you
know their gods?” It was a rhetorical question, but I almost blurted out ‘yes’ anyway. “These people believe that by offering one life to the gods many will be spared in return.”

“So death is beautiful when it’s a selfless act?” I worried my teeth over my lip as I thought.

“Yes,” she nodded. “There is no greater honor than sacrificing yourself to save others. It’s altruism in its purest form.” She crawled over to her own sleeping bag. “Isn’t there someone in this world you would give your own life to save?”

When I looked over to where she sat her eyes drifted from me to Chassan, still bent to his carving across the fire.

“Of course,” I answered, thinking of Dayne and how gladly I would throw away my own life to save his.

Satisfied she had made her point, Rhea sighed and took a worn book from her pack, pulling on a headlamp to read.

I said nothing more, turning back to the fire, pulling my knees to my chest as I stared into the flames. No doubt Chassan had witnessed countless victims sacrifice themselves over the years, lurking in the shadows, waiting to transport their soul to a god who had long since left this world. To them, that made him a god. But I wasn’t yet sure what that made him to me.

Chassan was death. That much I knew. But there seemed little joy in it for him, only duty. Paititi was his home, yet he had run from that place and all its riches as soon as he could. Most people would be happy to sit in a place laden with such riches all day, counting their fortune. Not Chassan. He was repulsed by the gold hidden within its walls.

And last night, when he came to me at his altar, in a heartbeat he could have killed me, but something stilled his hand. What that was, I didn’t know at the time. But sitting there, watching him blend so seamlessly with life, I had to wonder if it was death Chassan hated. But just like the native people who offered themselves as sacrifice, he had no way to escape it either.

It was impossible to look away when I saw him, though I knew I should. The moment was so intensely intimate I found I held my breath for fear of disturbing him.

When I awoke, I’d scurried off into the woods to take care of an urgent matter. Half tripping, half stumbling through the morning mist cloaked mountain side, I had not been prepared for the beauty that greeted me.

Chassan stood precariously balanced on a jagged rock snaking high into the air over a bluff, his body completely free of the jungle foliage ensnaring my feet. Bare from the waist up, wearing only the dark hiking shorts he had worn yesterday. His smooth cafe-con-leche skin glowed like fire in the early rays of sun strong enough to penetrate the dense fog.

Eyes closed, head back, muscles taut as a guitar string down the length of him as if he were physically pulling the sun into the sky, playing tug-of-war with mountains who refused to let it go. His chest flung forward as if his heart was about to leap from him and join the glowing orb on the horizon. Golden hair, burned to bronze in a light so strong it radiated sunrise hues of red and orange along the mountain peaks peeking beneath lumbering clouds. He didn’t acknowledge me, though a deadly hunter such as him would have sensed my approach for miles.

Slowly, I backed away, turning down another trail. As I passed him, his figure turned from golden god into a shapely shadow blotting out the bright light in a complete silhouette. Despite the shadow, golden rays radiated off his body like steam rising from a lake.

“How’d you sleep, Golden Eyes?” Rhea asked with a twisted smile when I stumbled into camp.

“Golden
what
?” With my own face twisted into a question mark of confusion, I took up the other end of the sleeping bag she was folding and began to help her.

“Golden eyes!” She whispered loudly.

I shook my head and curled my brows into a confused line.

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Because every good hiker deserves a trail name, and I saw you watching that golden god basking in the sun this morning!” She nodded her head in a knowing way and I felt every drop of blood drain from my face to my toes.

“No, Rhea. Please. You cannot call me that,” I pleaded with her, eyes wide with horrified embarrassment. It was bad enough Chassan knew I was watching him. If he thought, or even suspected, I
enjoyed
it, I would be beyond mortified.

“It’ll be our secret,” she winked at me, a crooked smile tugging her lips.

“What secret?” Chassan asked, appearing from the woods, pulling a thin T-shirt over his rippling abs.
Couldn’t he have at least put that on before he entered the camp?
I frowned at him when our eyes met and looked away.

“Oh, girls have their secrets, Chassan. And our friend, Faye, is full of them!” Rhea took the end of the sleeping bag I offered her and reached out to pat Chassan’s back as he passed. His muscles flenched on contact, but it was such a minuscule movement I was certain I was the only one who had seen it.

So, he didn’t like to be touched, but he was just fine with me watching him? Just as I thought I was figuring Chassan out he became a stranger all over again.

Chassan was silent as
we hiked along the trail that morning. We had stayed for breakfast with Rhea’s group and then parted ways. They wouldn’t be welcomed in Q’ero lands and had plans to investigate several sights around their base camp before moving on to another mountain in search of Paititi.

It was a grueling challenge, hiking five hours in elevations that would have sent the most seasoned hiker into cardiac arrest. But my body was changing. I could feel it. I was stronger, more alert, in tune with the world in a way I had never been before. I could point to the exact limb a songbird sat on by sound alone without ever even seeing it. I knew where the nearest fresh water flowed by the an unmistakably cool scent carried on the wind. Animals didn’t scurry away from our progress as they would other people, as if they sensed we were more like one of their own than the untamed humans roaming these trails.

It was early afternoon when a brown spec situated on an open slope came into focus. An hour later the tree tops filled with a great cacophony of mismatched sounds that might have been music to deaf people.

“What is that?” I gasped, slapping my hands over my ears.

“It’s Q’ero women making their way down the foot paths. They play hand pipes as they walk, to pass the time and mark their journey.”

“That’s music?”

“To them, yes. Every Q’ero woman spends her childhood making her own hand pipe. They each have a sound as distinctive as its owners’ voice. When Q’ero girls come of age they form a bond with another woman and become partners of sorts. They help each other with everything from chores to childbirth. As they walk along they play their pipes together. It’s an everlasting bond for them, tighter than sisters even.” Chassan explained all this over his shoulder as he sliced into a large vine with his machete, clearing the path for me.

“I never had a sister.”

“Best friend?” Chassan asked.

“Good friends, but never best,” I shook my head, remembering the closest I had come to best friends lately—April, Mattie and Sam. “I always worried they would know I was different if we got too close.” I shrugged, my heart suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, wistfully thinking of all the things my human life had failed to give me.

“When did you know you weren’t like them?” His pace slowed, and he pulled up even with me.

“A few years ago. I started having visions and that’s certainly not a normal part of high school.” I rolled my eyes at the thought.

“Visions, like, futuristic visions?’

I nodded.

“What else?”

I turned my head to inspect a passing leaf, fearing Chassan might see me struggling with the truth. I knew I couldn’t tell him all of it, and I hoped it wouldn’t come spilling out when I tried to tell him enough to satisfy his curiosity.

“My body’s changing. I’m stronger, more in-tuned. I’m causing things to happen telekinetically, but I have zero control over it. And my visions aren’t just dreams anymore. They’re coming to me during the day now.”

Chassan nodded as he heard all this, eyes focused forward as if lost in thought, all emotion pulled from his face.

“Your magic is waking up,” he sighed and pulled a hand down the back of his neck before he continued. “Once you embrace this life there is no turning back. Are you sure this is what you want?’

“Positive,” I nodded affirmatively.

“Even if
he
isn’t waiting for you?”

My heavy heart fell straight down to the pit of my stomach where it was swallowed up by a wave of nerves so strong they almost knocked me off my feet.

“Of course, he’s waiting for me. I saw it. He promised.” I babbled, my mind spinning at the possibility of losing him forever.

“Faye, you have to face reality. The bracelet fell from your arm. His promise is broken. If Daoine has her way, you may never see him again.” Chassan wouldn’t look at me, his stoney face a million miles away as if he were a physician delivering bad news.

“No. We will be together. My visions are never wrong.”

“Suit yourself. But, remember I warned you. These answers you seek may lead you to everything or leave you with nothing.” With that, Chassan regained his pace, leaving me dead in my tracks staring at his back.

No!
I gritted my teeth and started walking again. I wouldn’t let him make me second guess my future with Dayne. I
knew
what I had seen. I knew what my future held. Just because Chassan had been wrong about his future when he made his greedy power grab didn’t mean I was wrong too. I had to believe Dayne was coming back to me. Without him, what else did I have?

The brown spec grew on the horizon until we were standing at an ancient stacked stone entry that loomed as perilous and promising as Ennishlough’s gates once had. My stomach tumbled from a combination of nerves, fear and excitement, my knees finally feeling the weight of my pack or the weight of what I would be when I crossed this threshold again.

No century stood on guard, the entrance open to whomever might pass, but I could tell by the way Chassan watched the landscape that eyes were already on us. It was barren, a broad grassland with llamas and alpacas roaming free. Trees and boulders sporadically darkened the landscape to offer a slice of forgiving shade from an unrelenting sun.

A ribbon of sandy trail cut through the parched grassland, just as it had the entire way up the mountain. Worn to a permanent stain on the land by a constant string of foot traffic. A rounded ridge lay to our left, the trail snaking its way up, up and over the massive back of the mountain.

As we crested the ridge, the lands of the Q’ero appeared. Blooming in little pockets of life, the village spilled down a rocky slope. Huts spread in a fan shape over the hillside, surrounding an ornate stacked stone temple at the center. Earth ceased to exist behind the temple, the mountain plunging into a valley so massive its floor could only be imagined. Our arrival on the slope gave way to an ominous roar, more hand pipes, but lower, deeper and menacing.

“Down!” Chassan ordered, taking my hand and jerking me to my knees beside him an instant before we were swarmed by Q’ero warriors, bows and spears drawn, running from behind a scant cover of trees and bushes. I followed Chassan’s every move, eyes diverted to the ground, hands over my head, as a group of painted men covered us like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Fear coursed hot and fast down the length of me, my limbs trembling for fear that the uncontrolled urges of my magic might take over and expose us for what we really were.

An overzealous hand grabbed the shoulder strap of my pack and yanked me to my feet. A move that stole a shriek of absolute horror from my gut so loud it echoed through the valley. In a heartbeat, his neck was firmly clasped in Chassan’s deadly grasp and I was again on my knees in the dirt, coughing and spitting and fighting the tingle that crawled up my spine like fire.

The angry mob rushed Chassan, all but forgetting me after his aggressive move. He released the man’s throat, and stood to his full height, braced and bowed for a fight. Yet there wasn’t a single man brave enough to tackle Chassan alone. They all poked, prodded and yelled from their ragged circle like he was some baited bear.

My brain went into desperate overdrive, terrified Chassan was about to shift into his hunter’s body before their eyes and definitely blow our cover. When a clear voice sliced into the riot, the men fell instantly silent, lowering their weapons and turning on their heels like trained attack dogs. The men snapped to stoney attention, eyes on the ground as if unworthy of the voice, and shuffled away from us. On my knees at Chassan’s feet, I slowly glanced up to find a stately man waiting just past the fray of soldiers, flanked by three other men—two warriors like the ones who had attacked us and one older man decorated with a headpiece of colored feathers bigger than a peacock’s tail.

Still cowered behind Chassan, I rose to my feet, hating myself for being such a coward, but not knowing what else to do. The leader’s gaze stayed firmly on Chassan, not bothering to look at me. He uttered a single word and Chassan reached into his backpack, retrieving the golden chalice from Paititi’s chamber of death and held it aloft.

Oohs
and
aahs
whispered over the crowd, the international sign of awe. The leader took the goblet and gave it a quick once over before waving his hand in a way that dismissed the group like the pack of ravenous dogs they were. A smile broke over his brown face and he clapped a welcoming hand on Chassan’s back, picking up an easy chatter as I brushed the dust from my clothes and tried to figure what in the heck had just happened.

The soldiers dispersed just as quickly as they appeared, and we were alone on the ridge with the leader and his escort of three, he and Chassan talking like old friends as they walked to his litter.

The leader stepped into an ornamented chair mounted on two long rods. When he was seated, the two warriors lifted him off the ground, and carried him down the hillside on his portable throne.

“What was that?” I asked, eyes still dull with shock.

“The Q’ero version of welcome,” Chassan answered as he helped me with my pack.

“I’d hate to see
un
welcome,” I shook my head as I fell in line behind the king on wobbly knees.

We entered the village in a procession behind the king, everyone bowing and mumbling words of what I assumed were welcome. It was all very solemn and respectful until a little boy caught site of Chassan and let out a whoop of pure joy that called every kid in the village, obviously recognizing Chassan and beyond delighted to see him.

All of a sudden, they were everywhere, scuttling out from tents as we passed, greeting Chassan like a king himself. For what seemed like the hundredth time, I was staggered by Chassan, and reminded I
really
didn’t know the first thing about him. I had assumed he lived life in a rock when annoying people like me weren’t forcing him from it. Seeing him like this, seeing Rhea’s reaction to him—Chassan was nothing like the legends I learned in Ceila’s cave.