Page 28 of Tiger's Destiny
“Kells,” he sighed. “You honor your parents every day of your life. You don’t have to give a speech to show how much you loved them. They wouldn’t have wanted you to carry this burden all this time. They loved you. Kadam loved you too. You don’t have to say the right thing or wear the perfect dress. You honor them by living, by being the wonderful woman that you are.”
“You always know the right things to say, don’t you? Thank you,” I whispered as I clutched my shoes.
Ren brushed his fingers along my jaw and left.
I showered quickly and scrubbed my puffy, tear-streaked face. After I dressed, I wound my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck and headed downstairs. Ren and Kishan had showered and changed too. Both men were wearing dress shirts and ties, and even though we’d be in the jungle, their more formal clothes seemed appropriate.
Kishan drove us to the private airport that was a few miles from the house.
As we climbed into the old propeller plane, Murphy bent over his controls and said, “Kadam loved this old plane. It’s a Lockheed Electra 10E used in World War Two. He once told me that Amelia Earhart made her famous last trip in one of these.”
The factoid made me smile and remember how fond Mr. Kadam was of sharing every little detail of his mechanical toys. But my smile fell when I stole a glance at Nilima across from us. Mr. Kadam’s death had clearly affected her terribly. Her hair hung in tangles around her tear-stained face and something she had rubbed up against had left grease stains on her lovely white blouse. She rested her head, leaning back, and closed her eyes.
Murphy smoothly lifted us into the air, and with the hum of the engines and the emotional roller coaster ride of the past twenty-four hours, it wasn’t long before I fell into a dark, confusing dream.
In the dream, a young Lokesh was standing over a monk, torturing him for information.
“Tell me of the amulet, old man,” a desperate Lokesh threatened.
The monk screamed. “Please! I beg you to have mercy!”
“Mercy will be given when you tell me what I desire to hear.”
The weakened man nodded and said, “A few centuries before the birth of my teacher, there was a great war. All the powerful kingdoms of Asia gathered together to battle a demon. A goddess arose with two faces: one face was dark and beautiful and the other was bright and more glorious than the sun. She led the armies of Asia against the armies of the demon. The armies of Asia were victorious, and, as a result, the goddess blessed each kingdom with a gift.”
“What does this have to do with the amulet?” an impatient Lokesh screamed and wrenched the man’s wrist cruelly.
“Let me . . . let me explain,” the man panted. “The goddess took the amulet from her neck and broke it into five pieces. She gave one piece to each king and admonished them to keep secret its origin and to use its power to help and protect his people. They were instructed to pass it within their family to the eldest son.”
“And which kingdoms fought in this battle?”
“The five that gathered were the people of the—”
The dream suddenly ended when Ren shook me awake.
“We’re landing,” he murmured quietly.
I looked out the window and only saw dense jungle below. “Landing where?” I asked.
The plane turned and Ren pointed out of one of the windows. “There.”
The morning sun glinted in my eyes, blinding me for a moment, but then the plane banked to the right and I saw the sparkle of the river and a dirt runway below us. I knew the river eventually led to our old camp near Ren’s waterfall, but I couldn’t remember seeing the runway before.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” Kishan answered. “I know this jungle like the back of my hand and there was never a clearing there, let alone a space long enough to land a plane.”
“Hold on, everybody,” Murphy warned. “It’s going to get a little bumpy.”
He circled the jungle one more time and began his descent. The belly of the plane brushed across some tree tops as we dipped lower. When the wheels touched down, the old aircraft rumbled and bounced as if it were going to come apart, but Murphy landed us safely, and we all disembarked.
Mr. Kadam had left instructions for Ren and Kishan to dig his burial plot in the garden. They somberly carried Mr. Kadam’s shrouded body down the hill while Murphy, Nilima, and I found a shady spot to wait.
“This is the darndest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Murphy commented. “Why in the world would he want to be buried in the middle of nowhere? I just don’t understand it.”
I patted Murphy’s arm in sympathy but said nothing as I tried to coax Nilima to drink some juice. It was hot. Even in December, the jungle was hotter than most summer days in Oregon. We’d gone from a Himalayan winter to a tropical zone in less than twenty-four hours.
Murphy continued to talk. He seemed almost able to carry the entire conversation by himself, which was a good thing as Nilima was practically mute.
