He remembered everything at that moment. The spell which had spread a blanket over his memories died, and now his past belonged to him. He heard Ramancia. She was telling him that this was the mirror of the Black Queen of the Abyss of Morelia. He stared at his own reflection and the image said to him in anguish: “You must find the mirror…” The voice died away in echoes…
Boom, Boom…
There was the sound of something striking against wood.
Boom, Boom…
An echo as of war drums.
Boom, Boom…
Solemn sun, calming fires… Solace sun, innocent forges… Sun solacium, beardless and alluring… Sun solanum, carry me in your hand…
Manchego opened his eyes all of a sudden. The night was dark. He was afraid. His heart was galloping; he suddenly broke out in goose-bumps. Something or someone was there, with him! Maybe it was Rufus. No, Rufus would have already licked his face. He heard something. It was a voice, something between happy and frustrated, singing. He paid attention, filled with anxiety: Solemn sun, calming fires… Solace sun, innocent forges… Sun solacium, beardless and alluring… Sun solanum, carry me in your hand.
It was no more than a whisper. The voice spoke close to his bed. The presence emanated the vibration of a living being, and yet he could not hear its breathing. He was silent. The voice did not utter the chant again, as if it had realized that Manchego had noticed that presence. The boy was paralyzed.
He could not summon up the courage to ask who or what it was. Maybe it was just a dream. He had to find out, but he was growing more fearful all the time. That presence gave out a groan, something like two membranes brushing against each other. He could feel it three steps or so from the bed, drinking in his breath.
He held the Teitú nut tightly. It was time to act. That thing had not come with good intentions, and it had the advantage. Manchego could only defend himself or resort to an element of surprise. The options for defense were limited as he had no weapons nearby; he wished he had not left the machete in the stable, although in any case he would not know how to use it to attack. How could it have managed to get in without disturbing either Rufus or Grandmother? he thought. Then he considered one possible option. He lowered one hand until he found his boots.
He took hold of one of them with the utmost care and prepared to throw it. He knew that house like the back of his hand. Nervously he threw the boot toward a shelf of metal objects. The sudden jangle told him he had hit his target. Rufus started to bark.
Good!
He heard steps running toward the kitchen. Manchego shot out in blind pursuit. Like an arrow, he flew outside, so carried away he did not realize he was barefooted. Out there, in the middle of the night, he felt vulnerable and drowsy, but still he ran after his prey.
The lights went on in the Ranch; Lulita had woken up. The Wild Woman had already picked up a weapon.
Fear returned to give his brain a kick. He stopped suddenly, panting. The vapor of his breath and the sound of his breathing burst out like strange elements in the placid night. And suppose this was the assailant’s plan? To lead Manchego out of the Ranch, where Lulita could not defend him? At that very moment he would be able to cut his throat in a matter of seconds.
The silence was terrifying. There, among the wheat, suffocated by the height of the spikes, he had nowhere to hide. His attacker could be behind him and he would never know. He wished he had had the sense to wait till dawn, the patience to work out an intelligent plan. But no, he had to be impetuous, and now he found himself in a situation it would be hard to get out of.
He had no choice but to think fast. “I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die, I’m not going to die,” he repeated to himself. He could not even reach for a mace or a stick, nor did he know how to defend himself with his body alone. He could only go back or else go on, and he would have to do it trusting his instinct, as he had no torch. Far away he heard his grandmother and Rufus searching for him. But the voices and the barking were not strong enough to let him get his bearings and find his way to them. He took a deep breath and decided to run as never before, breathing out an unequaled fury, as if he were going to conquer lands or armies.
The spikes scratched his face and made tiny cuts, which smarted. The stinging added to his frustration, anxiety and fear, and he began to cry. He lacked air; he tried to breathe but he was drowning. He wanted to shout; that way Lulita would be able to find him more quickly, but it would also alert his attackers, so he kept quiet. Determined to go on fighting, he began to move through the plantation like a cat. He clutched his Teitú nut tightly. Everything was still peaceful. Perhaps the attacker had got lost amid the wheat. Hope that he would be able to escape grew within him.
At that same moment Manchego became aware of a round shape, no more than five strides in diameter. In the center a fire was burning. Two people were sitting around the fire, one of them wearing a hood that hid his face. He recognized the other at once. His heart galloped in rising panic.
It was Mowriz, and he was staring at him. He was saying something: “Solemn sun, calming fires… Solace sun, innocent forges… Sun solacium, beardless and incentive… Sun solanum, carry me in your hand…”
The distant screech of an owl echoed in the night. At that moment the hooded man stood up. He pushed back the hood, and the head of an owl was revealed. It had bright yellow eyes that hypnotized Manchego. Its beak reflected the light of the fire and stood out among the black feathers of its face. The boy could not stop admiring those eyes, could not stop feeling himself attracted by the mysterious strength they gave out.
Reality became distorted. A purple mist formed, then started to turn until it became something like a platform with a tunnel opening in front of it; at the end of it a white light could be seen. The owl-headed being pointed toward it with one finger. Manchego understood that he had to enter that landscape, transported by the mist, perhaps to melt into the light. He obeyed. It was as if his body acted of its own accord.
What was Mowriz doing there? He had survived Sureña’s attack, but he looked battered, dying. He went toward the mist. As he set one foot on that phenomenon, he felt that the coordinates of space and time shifted, that time was speeding up.
The platform was sucking Manchego, not violently but subtly, carrying him securely forward. He turned and saw that Mowriz was coming behind him. He was muttering under his breath and seemed gone, as though dead. His usual aggressiveness was not apparent; instead, he seemed to be… friendlier?
Manchego reached the end of the tunnel. Before him was what appeared to be a lagoon of white water positioned vertically, like a waterfall of milk. He reached out and touched the fountain. It vibrated and emitted a buzzing like a swarm of bees. He put his hand through and felt an atmosphere of cold on the other side. He drew it back, scared. Mowriz, as if following orders, came forward. Without hesitating, he plunged into the white fountain and disappeared. Manchego was left astonished, motionless. He only reacted when Mowriz’s dead hand reappeared, inviting him to cross the threshold. He accepted and crossed the portal.
***
The wind was blowing in silence so as not to awake the dead who scattered their laments around in gushes of blood and misfortune. A sandstorm swallowed the blood and the whirlwinds prevented him from seeing further than two strides away.
The place was unknown to him; the stench of fear enveloped everything; the howl of a corpse rent the air. Mowriz took from his belt a metal sword, long and solid. The being with the head of an owl might have given it to him.
Mowriz beckoned Manchego to proceed, and so they did. The boy felt death all around him, keen to consume him. They moved warily. The shepherd, barefooted and in his pajamas, felt utterly out of place.
The corpse’s howling increased in intensity. The beast was close. In seconds, the ill-treated body showed itself to them, tall and eaten away, dressed in horrible bloody rags, its flesh in the process of rotting away. It had marks on its ribs. But most shocking of al
l was that it had three dying heads on its shoulders howling with pain, letting forth such a terrifying lament that Manchego could only think about fleeing. He had no time to think about this. Mowriz and the three-headed corpse became entangled in a fight which promised to shed a great deal of blood.
Mowriz defeated the corpse, and although he had been bitten badly in the neck and was bleeding profusely, this did not prevent him from going on with his mission of guiding Manchego through the sandstorm. They came to a door.
It was the entrance to Ramancia’s shop. Manchego felt a strange burning, a pinch of hatred and misfortune. He collapsed, with no control over his legs. His lip split when he fell against the cobbled floor. Manchego had an arrow buried in his abdomen. He was bleeding to death. He began to weep. Lulita! Luchy! Rufus!
Chapter XIV – Unexpected Violence
Luchy was shaking Manchego. The boy seemed a lifeless puppet. It occurred to her to try another method: She poured a glass of water over him.
Manchego opened his eyes abruptly. He touched his soaking face and hair, the rest of his body. Yes, he was alive, and safe.
“It looked as if you were having a nightmare,” Luchy said, full of concern.
Manchego laughed with relief.
“It was terrible!” the girl said. “You were kicking, breathing quickly. What happened, you silly? Don’t scare me like that… What do you have there?” she asked, looking at her friend’s clenched fist.
“What a nightmare,” Manchego replied, squeezing the Teitú nut. He opened his hand and showed her the nut.
“That thing? Why is it so important to you? I mean… it was a totem from the witch after all… the one we saw being swallowed by the darkness. Maybe you shouldn’t be carrying it with you,” said Luchy.
“It’s ok. This nut is… it’s like a friend.”
“You are very strange. Those nightmares you had will be nothing in comparison to the way Balthazar’ll bend your ear if you keep being late, you silly,” she scolded him with folded arms.
Manchego looked through the window. It was true, it was getting late! Rufus came in and greeted him with several licks.
“And why didn’t you wake me up?” the boy asked the dog.
Rufus replied with a few barks and wags of his tail. It did not take long to gather together his clothes and get dressed. He was about to put his boots on when he saw that his feet were covered in mud. He had no time to think about it, or clean the mud off. He put one boot on. And the other? He searched all over the floor before it occurred to him to go to the shelf with the metal objects. There it was.
Fear came over him, then straight away an intense curiosity, above all when he found a note under an ornament the size of a thumb, with the body of a man and the head of an owl… “What in the God’s…” Manchego picked up the note and read carefully: “Ramancia’s shop. Six in the evening.”
He took the ornament. It was wooden, and very poorly crafted, as if were built in a hurry. But still… how ominous it was.
The note was written in charcoal on a thin piece of wood. The writing was that of a child. Manchego’s heart beat faster. Who could have put that note there? Could it be a joke? The dream… could it be possible?
***
Luchy and Manchego were sitting in the Observatory, under the Great Pine, side by side, almost touching, wishing some casual move would bring them closer still. Neither of them dared, for fear of rejection, for fear of losing everything.
“They’ve closed the school, Manchego,” Luchy began. “They say one of the teachers was murdered by the Mayor’s soldiers, and others were taken to the dungeons. It’s a disaster, something really terrible. At least I’m home, helping my parents make their caramel pudding…” Luchy shivered and lowered her voice: “I miss you.” And she leant her head on her friend’s shoulder.
Manchego blushed, and he noticed that his muscles had tensed. What should he do now? He stayed still. He wished he could find the courage to stroke her head or pet her. A little kiss on the face would be the best thing. But he could barely even breathe. They stayed like this without speaking, in pleasant, comfortable silence. Manchego enjoyed the feeling. Who knew when he would have Luchy like this again?
“What do you think we’ll be like in five years’ time?” the shepherd wondered aloud.
“What do you mean?” she asked nervously.
“Well… uh… you and me, our friendship, what’ll it be like in five years?”
“Well, the same, I should say. What d’you think?” Luchy said, blushing. Manchego did not notice.
“I guess it’ll be the same, but… d’you think something might happen between you and me?” he said, a little more specifically. He hoped Luchy would not notice that his hands were shaking and that he had broken into a cold sweat.
Luchy moved a little away and looked at him more closely. Manchego returned her gaze.
“I don’t think so. We’re best friends, aren’t we? And between best friends it’s better if that kind of thing doesn’t happen. Friendship’s more important, don’t you think?”
Manchego did not seem too happy with this reply. He shrugged. “You never know…”
“What d’you mean?”
“We need to keep our eyes open and our hearts ready for anything.”
“Who told you that?”
“Lulita. I guess she doesn’t want us to go our separate ways.”
“I don’t want us to be parted either, not for anything in the world, Mancheguito.”
“Luchy… I’m very… I’m fond of you,” he began hesitantly. He wanted to use the word love, but he did not dare. It would have sounded too amorous and that was not what he wanted to convey. Or was it?
Their eyes met. “I’m very fond of you too, Mancheguito. You know I’ll always be here to give you support. In everything.”
Manchego went red. They both burst out laughing and their laughter infected Rufus, who started to bark. They stayed like this for some time. It was high noon, and time to get back to work.
***
At four o’clock that day, Manchego was finishing his work in the fields. During the day, after he had been with Luchy, he had pondered on the dream he had last night and had concluded that it had not really been a dream. There were the tracks of his bare feet all over the plantation, and most of all that round flat area, with the dead embers of a fire in the center. But he wasn’t dead! And in the dream he had died—so if the dream was somehow true, well, he should have an arrow sticking out of his belly! Further investigation about the dream yielded no more than frustration. He let the matter go, for now.
He went into the stable and started to comb the horses’ manes. Sureña and Granola looked him up and down, as if they were checking it was really him. Ever since that day Sureña had defended Manchego from Mowriz and his goons, there had been an intimate bond between them.
The lanky boy went on thinking about these latest events and their mysteries. There was a mirror that had belonged to a certain Black Queen. He was curious to know more, but the Queen’s name terrified him. At six this evening someone wants to meet with me at Ramancia’s house… but who? the shepherd recalled, lost in thought.
Six o’clock coincided with the curfew villagers and farmers both had spontaneously assigned. At night, violence broke loose. People quickly learned to avoid being out after dark.
He shook himself; he did not know what to do. The wise thing would be to warn Grandmother, Luchy, and Balthazar that he was going to set off for the village with the intention of solving various riddles. But he knew the reply would be a categorical no, and he needed to go to the village, whatever danger might be involved. There was an itch he could not explain, and he knew if he didn’t act on it now, something terrible could happen to all of them. He needed to do something about it. To avoid being called crazy by his loved ones, he did his best to hide his tracks and hid the small owl-headed ornament.
He took his machete and tied it to Sureña’s saddle. The white mare accepted
the responsibility gracefully. With his heart in flames, Manchego raced out towards the village.
***
The evening was darker than usual. A streak of lightning crossed the sky, followed by the echo of thunder in the distance. Manchego crossed Ranchers’ Avenue and went into The Encounters, the road which took him to the Salient Booth—the village’s gate. Wherever he looked there was nothing but horror. Chaos had spread; it would not take long to reach the ranches. What would they do then? Flee? Settle somewhere else? He went on, perhaps making the most reckless decision of his existence.
Hundreds of corpses were piled up in the area around the Salient Booth. They were not the bodies of soldiers but of village people, mingled with broken carts, mutilated horses, and the penetrating smell of putrefaction. This was the result of trying to escape. By the Gods… has all this happened in such a short space of time? the boy thought, shocked.
He should have turned back. He knew. But inside he was convinced he was making the right choice by being present at Ramancia’s at six. Time-telling relied on sundials. And every six hours the Décamon’s bell would toll. It hadn’t, not yet. He was still on time.
They cantered along the Poor Sector, among garbage and filth, and the noise of fighting. He passed a group a people who looked at him as though begging for help. He kept going. What could he do?
His white mare, elegant and beautiful, caught the attention of a group of soldiers. They began to whisper among themselves. Manchego went on, trying to look composed, but soon two soldiers left the group and came for him. His heart galloped at the same rhythm as Sureña’s progress; his arms, legs and hands were shaking. He should never have come, but he was already here and there was no turning back.
Several houses had resisted. Doors and windows were boarded up and many people were waiting outside in the hope of being offered shelter. The cold war had heated up and now it had been openly declared; the village had risen up in arms against its local government. In the streets there was no trace of the village’s previous bustling life.
Shepherd’s Awakening (Books 1-3) Page 10