Mayan December

by Brenda Cooper

  He blinked and looked again. Cauac wore god-shoes.

  He met his teacher’s eyes and they shared both a worried glance and a small flash of happiness. He had never expected to see Cauac again.

  Ah Bahlam extended a hand and Ni-ixie took it, scrambling up beside him.

  Some of the others on the parapet turned to watch, the fear and mistrust in their eyes making him uneasy. As Ah Bahlam reached down to help the woman up, he spoke to Cauac, now just below him. “Why do you come here?”

  “Nixie asked me to bring her to Hun Kan.”

  Ah Bahlam glanced to either side of him.

  The wall was crowded. Almost half of the people now looked their way. Every few arms-lengths, warriors of K’uk’ulkan stood to keep peace, and further down the wall, more guarded the prisoners. The warriors already watched them. “We should go—”

  “Wait!” Cauac pulled himself up so he crouched on the edge of the wall. “Look.”

  Nixie raced toward Hun Kan, head up, regal even though she was running. People made way for her. A golden girl heading toward the captives prepared for sacrifice. She passed through a crowd of old men and young boys, seemingly unaware that some watched her as if she were water in a drought.

  One of the warriors of K’uk’ulkan even stepped aside, his eyes wide, his mouth open, clearly awed.

  Hun Kan held out a blue hand as Nixie approached, Hun Kan’s smile so broad her white teeth made a crescent moon. Nixie took her hand and leaned in, embracing her. When she let go, she turned so they both faced back toward Ah Bahlam and the others, who now stood side by side on top of the wall.

  Nixie’s hands were not stained blue where she had touched Hun Kan. The two of them, gold and dark, began to circle each other. They danced surefooted on the stone, controlled and measured, moving to a beat he couldn’t hear.

  They had not needed to speak to know what to do.

  Young men and old gave them room, melting into each other to make clear space for the girls. More blue color leaked from Hun Kan’s hand to Nixie’s.

  Two or three men began climbing down, looking like they were scared of both girls. One dragged a child with him, the child screaming.

  Cowards.

  The red warriors looked confused, but had started talking between themselves. They’d do something soon. What?

  Ah Bahlam checked their escape route. The other two men had never climbed all the way up, but stood clinging to the ladders on the top of the wall, watching. The woman stood frozen beside him, smelling of fear. But she watched closely, and stood straight. Below them, on the ground, commotion and pointing, but still open space between people.

  No one from below was climbing up.

  Nixie and Hun Kan were close now, both of their eyes meeting his.

  “Let’s go,” Ah Bahlam hissed at Cauac.

  Cauac nodded, and motioned Ah Bahlam down. He wanted to protest, to be last so he could help Hun Kan off the wall, but the look in his teacher’s eyes sent him scurrying, watching below.

  The ladder felt strong and solid. He was not supposed to leave the wall, but Nixie was here and Hun Kan was beside him! Or just above him, anyway. He glanced up and saw the curve of her shoulder against the sky. The strength of hope and the jaguar poured into him, the moment heavy with destiny. He wanted to growl and scream with the joy of it.

  As they descended, the grunts and shouts of the players floated over the wall. It felt right they were going away from the game, leaving it to succeed as it should without the disturbance of strangers.

  They would be all right, they would get down the wall safely and the people would let them go. K’uk’ulkan protect us. K’uk’ulkan protect us. Hand over hand, down the ladder, the mantra of safety repeating each step. K’uk’ulkan surround us. Tell me what to do!

  The woman climbed down beside him, her long legs taking the uneven steps easily. She had the same light skin as the girl, although hers had tiny red and brown spots on the tops of her arms and across her nose. Her form was more womanly: slender-waisted, but with rounded breasts and hips.

  He spoke to Cauac, above him. “Are they gods?” Gods had mothers.

  “I don’t know.” The tone of Cauac’s voice said that he did not think so.

  All the more important to get them away. They would be fragile. “Is that Nixie’s mother?”

  Cauac smiled. “I think so. But Ian is not her father.”

  “Who is Ian?”

  Cauac wrapped an arm around a post for stability and pointed down at the man with the long strange hair. “The other is Don Thomas. They are from a year that falls after this year and the one after that and the one after that and many more.”

  Ah Bahlam put his right foot too far down and nearly slipped.

  Hun Kan, who had heard the conversation, grinned down at him. She didn’t have to tell him she had been right all along and Nixie was a girl and not a god.

  A girl from another time. Scary. Like walking an edge.

  His breath slammed against the inside of his chest, fluttering his heart. K’uk’ulkan! I prayed to you last night. I pray to you again. Be beside me and beside Hun Kan, be on the side of the Itzá and of our gamers.

  His jaguar twitched inside him, nearly pulling him free of the ladder. It did not like him praying to the god it thought was weak. But this was K’uk’ulkan’s festival and not the festival of the jaguar god. He looked up toward the top of the wall. Faces peered down, watching them.

  What were his people thinking? He wanted to be down instead of halfway; to be away, to focus on Nixie and Cauac and Hun Kan and the new people.

  K’uk’ulkan, the feathered serpent.

  Below him, the High Priest of K’uk’ulkan stood in full regalia.

  He had left the game.

  Ah Bahlam’s jaguar ears flicked back, listening. The game continued.

  K’uk’ulkan’s eyes were hard and bright, like banked coals. He hissed.

  Ah Bahlam’s jaguar took his teeth for its own and growled back, a deep rending sound that made him grip the wood under his fingers even harder.

  Hesitation would not save him now. Nor prayer.

  A breath and he was sideways above K’uk’ulkan, clinging to the wood with all fours, his haunches trembling with power. Then he went down hands-first, his forearms shaking with the effort.

  Hun Kan gasped from above him and he heard no sounds to indicate the others moved at all. He could not stop for them. When he was still taller than man-height above the ground, he gathered himself and pushed off, away from the wall and toward the high priest.

  The high priest stepped back, just out of range, his eyes wide, the man visible in them. Man and jaguar landed on two feet, staggering before standing straight.

  The high priest hissed at him.

  Ah Bahlam fell to all fours and twitched his tail. He crouched, but did not spring.

  It was the Dance of the Way all over again, neither giving, neither moving. The moment seemed to freeze, for each breath to allow more challenge to build between him and the high priest.

  Cauac stepped over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He spoke simply, quietly, as if there were no hurry in the world. “Control.”

  The word acted like water in the jaguar’s face, making him shake his head and arch his back.

  “No,” Cauac said. “Control.” He glanced at the high priest. “Before you forfeit your life.”

  Ah Bahlam stood. He breathed, and everyone around him watched him, still and silent. He balanced on his heels, calling earth up through his feet and sky down through the top of his head until he was bigger than the jaguar and could shrink the reluctant cat down into himself.

  The high priest gave him a short imperious nod, his eyes focused on Nixie and Hun Kan, and on Nixie’s mother. Nixie’s mother’s eyes had gone wide and her face paled to the color of paper bark. She grasped Nixie and pulled her to her side. It made Nixie look small and young.

  Ian and Don Thomas stayed near them, hovering.

 
Hun Kan came close enough that Ah Bahlam smelled her sweat. She did not touch him, although her presence made him quiver ever so slightly. He saw something in her face that he had not seen in all the run, the sacrifice of Nimah, even in the hut last night.

  Despair.

  The high priest leaned in toward Cauac until his face was near the old man’s face. But he would respect Cauac; all of Chichén respected Cauac. The priest glanced at the three women again. His words were low, but clipped and rushed. “What does this mean?”

  Cauac pointed at Nixie. “I dreamed Nixie’s people before I saw her. Ah Bahlam and Hun Kan saw her before I did, brought me tales of my dream walking in our time. I have seen the future.”

  “Is Chichén strong in the future?” the high priest demanded.

  Cauac laughed, an edgy laugh that raised the hair on the back of Ah Bahlam’s arms. “Chichén is remembered.”

  What did that mean?

  Cauac looked at the high priest for a long time. When he did speak, he used his powerful teacher’s voice. “Pray, and play ball, and manage the blood gifts of our moment.” He spread his arms wide, encompassing the vibrant noise and life of Chichén in full festival. “I will see to the years that have not come yet.”

  Fear flashed in the high priest’s eyes, but he stood firm, his muscles tight and his chin up. He looked regal, godlike, and except for the tiny flashes of fear, he looked exactly like he should.

  A small white hand reached through the empty air toward the high priest. Nixie. She held out a gift, a yellow counterpart to the blue that circled Hun Kan’s wrist. She spoke to Ian as she did so. Ian grimaced at her, glanced at the high priest, and shook his head. He looked like he was about to argue with Nixie, but he didn’t.

  The high priest looked at the gift, as if trying to decide if it was safe to hold.

  Cauac said, “It will keep the time of Chichén as if it were the very stars.”

  The high priest took the gift and wrapped it around his wrist. When he let go, it fell into the earth.

  Nixie picked it up and spoke to Ian again. Ian said, “If Nixie puts it on you,” he pointed to Hun Kan, “You may not be able to take it off.”

  The high priest apparently understood Ian’s poor speech. He nodded.

  Nixie fastened the yellow circle around his bony wrist. When she stepped back and looked at him in full regalia with the wide, yellow band around his wrist, she looked serious and awed.

  Was Nixie trying to buy Hun Kan’s life? Surely the high priest was too proud for that. He held his arm up and admired the pale yellow band. He spoke to Cauac. “The game needs me.” His gaze stopped on Hun Kan. “You must come.”

  Hun Kan nodded. “Of course.”

  She didn’t look at him. Before he could even think about it, Ah Bahlam stepped between her and the high priest.

  Cauac glared at him, and Ah Bahlam couldn’t look at him. He trembled, but kept his eyes on the high priest, breathing deeply, filling himself with the jaguar. He allowed his heart to become the heart of the jaguar, but kept his own head. “She is needed with us. She is part of the Way we must fulfill, like you must return to the game.”

  A condescending look filled the high priest’s eyes. “I, too, have seen her Way and her blood. She must stay with me.”

  Golden hair tickled Ah Bahlam’s shoulder. Nixie had come to stand beside him. Nixie’s mother stood behind her, her hands resting lightly on Nixie’s shoulders. They both looked determined and unafraid. The three of them made a wall between the High Priest and Hun Kan.

  Hun Kan’s hands were on his shoulder and Nixie’s trying to separate them.

  Ah Bahlam’s jaguar roared, the sound pouring out of him, deep and feral. A sound no man could make.

  The high priest’s jaw shook, perhaps in anger, perhaps in fear. His gaze broke away from Ah Bahlam’s. It was going to be enough. He would leave her.

  Feathered Serpent turned away from them, back to the game.

  CHAPTER 52

  Alice glared at the receding back of the man in the netting and the feathered headdress. The High Priest of the Feathered Serpent. The man responsible for the spiritual life of Chichén Itzá, whether sacrifice or dance or prayer.

  He had wanted her daughter. No, he had wanted to kill her daughter. Her hands and knees shook. She had never been so scared, ever. She swallowed, as weak now as she had been strong in front of the high priest.

  She watched him until the only way to be sure of his location was to spot his headdress above the crowd. The top of his head came no higher than her chin and yet he seemed infinitely tall. His ancient, sad eyes had reminded her of pictures she’d seen of Geronimo and other Native American fighters. Serene and certain, and merciless.

  If he had chosen to kill them, they would have died.

  Nixie tugged at her hand. The high priest might be gone, but there were still men and boys watching them, some above, a few partway down the ladder, and some surrounding them. A few faces showed fear, the others were curious or fierce in the way of young men ready to prove themselves. The warriors were elsewhere.

  Warriors or not, there were a lot of them, and more were drifting over. “We’ve got to go,” Nixie said. “Now.”

  Alice wanted to be hundreds of years away from the high priest, but she might never see this again. She stared at the open wild innocence of the young boys’ pale faces and wide dark eyes as they stood straight up near their grandfathers. Even though her blood still raced through shaking limbs, she tried to note the shape of weapons and the drape of clothes, the jewelry, the footwear. She took a deep breath of the clear ancient air. “Did you take pictures?”

  “Some.” Nix still clutched the feather close, like a talisman. The crowd around them felt bigger and closer. “We’re out of time.” Nix’s voice shook, too. “Get ready.”

  Ah Bahlam raised one arm, and the quetzal appeared above his head, almost as if from nowhere, and dropped onto his shoulder. He reached up and touched the bird’s beak and it made a soft chittering sound and rubbed its head against his finger.

  Ian took Alice’s free hand, his touch electric and tender. She stepped so they stood hip to hip, moving into him without thinking about it. Cauac held Ian’s other hand, with Hun Kan between him and Ah Bahlam. Don Thomas Arulo completed the circle, his large brown hand swallowing Nixie’s small white one. He leaned down to Nixie and spoke a command. “You must help.” He nodded at Alice and Ian. “Those two will need to be brought along.”

  Nix laughed. Alice blushed, until she heard Ian laugh, and laughed, too. The light shifted a tiny bit, from natural dusk to dusk with the odd whitened color of electric lighting that wasn’t yet really needed.

  English and Spanish, cell phones and the tap of heels on concrete.

  Now. They were now. Alice felt relieved, but also regret.

  Hun Kan and Ah Bahlam were with them. And Cauac. And everyone else who should be.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away, an unexpected reaction. Thank god she lived now.

  Ian had his huge the-world-is-great grin on his face. He pulled her into him and gave her a hug, not even noticing that she didn’t exactly return it, but felt stiff and shocked and relieved all at once, and as spacey as Peter. Ian winked at her, and then stepped over by Don Thomas.

  She called Marie, who sounded as relieved as Alice felt. “Alice? Are you all right?”

  She tried to keep her voice from shaking. “We went walkabout and brought back three more people. I don’t think we’ll all fit on the bleachers.” Would Marie understand?

  She did. “Maybe you’d best not come back in. I’ll send the two who found Nixie this morning, tell them to do what you say. They can help you keep a safe distance from . . . anything.”

  Alice nodded, and whispered to Ian, filling him in. Before he answered, she added, into the phone, “Marie—can you send Peter out with the guards?” The Marie she knew a long time ago had always hated being excluded. “And . . . can you come?”

  “
I don’t know. Hang on.” Alice heard yearning in Marie’s voice. The phone muted.

  She watched Hun Kan stare at the crowds moving along the paths, more curious than afraid, one of her hands firmly in Ah Bahlam’s. The painted blue caste of her skin made her look a bit like a statue. There was no denying her beauty, in a classic Mayan way. High cheekbones and wide eyes. A strong mouth. The way she looked at Ah Bahlam was the only soft thing about her.

  Marie’s voice pulled her attention back to the phone. “Can I bring the others?”

  Wow. She’d done it now. She glanced over at the old Mayans.

  “I mean, later. They won’t all come, but after the game is over, I’ll ask if anyone wants to have you show us the stars.”

  Alice laughed. “All right.” She’d almost forgotten the great alignment. That would be like forgetting her name. She was Alice Cameron, right? Maybe now she understood Ian’s bright smiles. After all, what else could you do in the face of a world so strange?

  Maybe she was, after all, stark raving crazy. Or still dreaming. Whatever.

  The four Mayans stood close together, and Alice dragged Nix near Ian, telling them about her conversation with Marie.

  “So where should we go?” Nix asked, looking around. Every place was well-lit and full of people.

  Alice smiled, real joy rising inside her. “Later, after the game, after people eat and the first few go home, they’re going to turn off all the lights. It will be announced, so everyone can find a seat. We’ll just go find a quiet spot now. There’s probably plenty if you stay away from the buildings and the screens.” And miss the game of the century, of the baktun. But the real game wasn’t here anyway. She knew that now.

  “I’m hungry,” Nix proclaimed.

  Alice burst out laughing. How incredibly, wonderfully normal.

  Alice felt like a den mother as she settled them all on a large piece of grass near the back wall of the site, far from most of the people or festivities. There was no lighting close, and their shadows fell long and dark on dark grass. Alice verified that the guards, Alan and David, had flashlights.