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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

And then we’re slipping and sliding down the lower slopes, to the rocky banks of the swirling lake. We stand there together, marveling at the scenery and wondering what to do next. It’s like looking down into a giant Jacuzzi that doesn’t have an “off” switch. Every few moments geysers of spray hurl up from one or another of the cataracts and splash us from head to foot, while a warm and fragrant mist perpetually hangs over the entire valley.

Looking across at the island, we see trees that look like green skyscrapers, and pink and violet flowers as big and bright as beach umbrellas. Several dark, giant faces frown at us through breaks in the foliage.

“How are we ever going to get across?” I ask Eko. “If we try to swim we’ll drown. There are no bridges.”

Eko nods, her eyes running over the rocky banks. “And there are no trees on this shore to build a boat. Let me ask the shaman.”

The shaman in turn asks the old woman, who smiles and chatters back at him in their singsong language. She now has the energy and demeanor of a middle-aged woman, and occasionally I see the mannerisms of a teenager or the carefree facial expressions of a young girl. She returns to the memories of her girlhood and informs the shaman that she knows a way across.

76

76

We pick our way around the perimeter of the lake to a sheltered spot between two massive boulders. Deep in the shadowy recesses of the cavern we glimpse something.

“What is it?” I ask Eko.

“She says her father built a raft, and had warriors drag it down the trail. He blessed it with special spells, and left it here after they returned from the island.”

Eko and I climb down to see the craft. It’s in remarkable condition considering that it was built decades ago. Perhaps it was protected from the elements by the rock overhang, or perhaps the magic spells worked. Time in this valley doesn’t seem to have the corrosive, ravaging effects it has everywhere else.

The two warriors help us drag the raft out of dry shadow into misty sunshine. It’s made from logs that were lashed together with hemp ropes. There are a few crosspieces for passengers to stand on, and a palm tree mast. In the sheltered cavern we find the moldy but still-serviceable animal-skin sail.

“That raft must be more than fifty years old,” I warn Eko. “It may crack apart in the current. If we overturn, the whirlpool will suck us right down.”

Eko also looks concerned as she studies the wooden craft. “If it worked fifty years ago, it should work now.”

“What if her memories are playing tricks on her?”