BooksBarbecue
Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

Sometimes I forget that Eko has an alternate career as High Priestess of Dann. I’m not sure exactly what this entails, but she usually has a couple of spectacular tricks up her sleeve, or in this case her index finger, that can come in very handy.

She half closes her eyes and concentrates very hard. I see orange-brown energy radiating from her eyes, flowing up her arm to her right hand. She begins to draw in the air, or maybe on the air. It’s like a plane doing skywriting, except that Eko is not using smoke. I’m not sure what she is using, but her finger moves slowly and artistically, somewhere between a magician’s wand and a sketch artist’s charcoal. As her hand sweeps back and forth, a dark image slowly takes shape.

The warriors gasp and back away a few steps. Surprise shows in their proud, fierce faces. I guess they’ve never seen anyone write on air before.

Neither have I for that matter.

Still holding their blowguns at the ready, they whisper among themselves. Several of them point excitedly at the mysterious black image hanging in the air just above me.

I watch their faces to try to read my fate, and I see something unexpected in their eyes. Not just surprise at Eko’s skywriting, or fear of unknown intruders with magical powers. I also see glimmers of recognition. She’s drawing something they know!

I turn my head and stare up at it. It’s hard for me to see Eko’s sketch clearly, since I’m standing almost directly beneath it. I surreptitiously slide over a few inches, and from this new angle I can see that it’s a face.

To my surprise, I also recognize it.

It’s a face I’ve seen several times on this journey in my dreams—an old man’s mummylike features, with playful, childlike eyes. Even this crude drawing conveys the impression of someone with great life force, who exists outside of time and place. An Einstein. A Gandhi.

Or, I surmise, as the warriors make a collective decision and lower their blowguns, it just might be the sphinxlike face of the Mysterious Kidah.

68

68

The forest trail we tromp along in single file is not blazed. Plants haven’t been cut back from it or even noticeably thinned. If I were on my own I could never find it, and if I strayed off it by a few feet I would forever lose its winding thread. But as I march on through the thick brush, with warriors in front of and behind me, I’m aware that this crude, twisting footpath is the only passageway through an otherwise impenetrable forest.