The Days of the Deer
Page 23
When that moment came, Dulkancellin straightened up on Dusky One. He drew back his bow and aimed at an enemy soldier, the one he had chosen for his first arrow. Dulkancellin had been in this position many times before in the Border Hills. Like all warriors, he knew that the man chosen to be the first victim was without a face, nothing more than a blur, because the person firing the arrow had no wish to remember him. But now Dulkancellin did want to recall the face of the man who, if he were not killed, could crush the heart of Wilkilén the very next day.
Dusky One felt his rider’s fury, and added its roar to the Husihuilke chief’s cry announcing the start of the battle. The cry was taken up by all the warriors as the first volley of arrows sped from the jungle. To the Sideresians it seemed as though the trees themselves were shooting at them. With poisoned or faming tips, the southern warriors’ arrows found their mark. So many men were killed, and their mounts were thrown into such panic, that the remaining cavalry tried desperately to pull back, colliding with the oncoming foot soldiers.
Taking advantage of the confusion and chaos, the spearmen rushed out of their positions in the jungle. Some threw their lances, but most wielded them directly against their foe. The Sideresians also had to face many clubs and axes, all the pain the Deer could inflict. Although many of them tried to use their weapons against the warriors from the Fertile Lands, the battle soon turned into a rout.
The outcome was to be seen by the bodies in the river. The current piled up corpses on its journey to the sea. Beasts, men and hacked-off limbs floated out to the Yentru. The Red River should have been named after this day, and not before.
The good news of the victory spread quickly through the jungle. When she heard, Kuy-Kuyen buried her little face in her hands and murmured her own words of thanks. Zabralkán called the people of Beleram to the great courtyard of the House of the Stars; Kupuka’s explosion of joy echoed round the jaguar’s cave where he was carrying out his own tasks. All over the Remote Realm, everyone celebrated the victory. On the battlefield, the warriors buried their dead, and recovered the animals and weapons they had won. Then they turned their faces to the sun and sang. As long as the sun was in the sky, they sang and sang. They became hoarse, and yet none of them let up in their singing.
The men in the other division heading north-west heard the news while they were advancing without encountering any Sideresians. At first, they shouted and acclaimed the good news, but soon each of them fell silent. They felt the shame of the warrior who has not fought in battle: as if they were to blame for the direction their enemy had taken. That night, as they ate roasted wild boar, they chewed on their frustration.
‘Eat a little,’ said Thungür, offering Kume a piece of the meat. He took it reluctantly, inspecting it slowly in front of his face.
‘We will soon have to renew our march,’ said Thungür, ‘and who knows when we will be able to stop and eat again.’
Kume began to nibble at the sweet-tasting meat. His elder brother had never mentioned the Kukul feather. He never asked how he had let things get that far, or shown any interest in finding out how he had done it. Kume was grateful for his lack of insistence, and so perhaps in return never once rebelled against the authority his father had delegated to Thungür. This did not mean that Kume had changed his sullen manner. On the contrary, he buried himself ever deeper in it, and never opened himself to anyone.
‘I don’t think we have celebrated our brothers’ victory properly,’ Thungür went on. ‘But our disappointment should help us to fight even more bravely when it is our turn to do so.’
Just like his mother, Thungür had the knack of finding flowers in the midst of a thorn bush.
‘Do you know who I am thinking of?’ he went on. ‘Of Cucub. I’m trying to imagine him in battle.’
Kume had finished eating. He drove his knife into the ground and licked off some grease that had stuck to his forearm.
‘Terrifed. Hiding between someone’s legs,’ he replied. ‘I can assure you, that’s what he was like.’
Thungür had the strength and the harmonious features of his race. As well as these, Kume had his mother Shampalwe’s beauty.
‘Do you know exactly what became of Kupuka?’ he asked.
The Husihuilkes were accustomed to thinking in a straightforward manner. Kume’s thoughts were always more devious.
‘How can anyone know exactly what the Wizard’s movements are?’ said Thungür with a smile. ‘He must be somewhere in this jungle, conspiring with his friends.’
Kume pulled the knife out of the ground and handed it back to his brother. Then he walked away.
The Deer could not afford to spend long celebrating the victory, because he had to continue on northwards as quickly as possible. The advance was inexorable, but more cautious with each passing day. A strong network of communications protected his army and kept it unified. The two divisions had to stay in contact as often as they could, but there was much more to do as well. They had to keep one eye on what was going on behind them, to know what was happening in Beleram and to send word to the coast of the Yentru to hear the news from the fish-women. Someone had to try to reach Kupuka. And above all, they had to get beyond the Sideresian lines to reach the Lords of the Sun. This was the path taken by the silent jaguars, slipping back and forth with a message of feathers round their necks that only their allies could understand.
The two divisions reached the appointed meeting place with half a day’s difference. From where they met, the Border Hills were clearly visible. The hills were a landmark between the Remote Realm and the land of the Lords of the Sun. They were gentle and easy to climb. Anyone who had done so remembered them as a pleasant spot. And so they were – or had been. Because as dusk fell that night, the warriors looked at the hillsides rising to the sky like someone at the mouth of a lair, wary of the animal inside lashing out.
The plan was for them to stay there until they could establish the next and final contact with the Lords of the Sun. The last jaguar carrying its message of feathers. After that, the two armies would fight alongside each other on the battlefield, when Hoh-Quiú’s men would surprise the Sideresians by attacking on another front.
Hoh-Quiú, one of the princes of the ruling House in the land of the Lords of the Sun, commanded a large army. Although the Lords of the Sun had received only fragmentary and confused information, they had understood they needed to throw as much of their power as possible into this war, and had done so.
‘Molitzmós, tell us about Hoh-Quiú,’ Dulkancellin said. ‘He is your prince, so you must know a lot about him. This will help us understand each other on the battlefield.’
‘As you say, he is a prince. Yet I have never seen him.’ Molitzmós remembered perfectly well seeing Hoh-Quiú’s face daubed with the blood from the heart of one of his own brothers, executed because he had not shown sufficient reverence towards the then tiny prince. ‘All I can say is that he must be very young still, and because of this I am amazed he is commanding the army.’
‘That must mean he is very valiant,’ said Dulkancellin.
Molitzmós of the Sun did not want to give any answer, for fear that his voice would betray his hatred.
‘Let’s hope the jaguar does not take too long,’ was all he murmured.
His wish was fulfilled. That night, escorted by the two guards who had seen him arrive, the jaguar entered the tent where a group of warriors were talking to Dulkancellin. Elek and Molitzmós were among them. Thungür and even Cucub were there too, the little Zitzahay staying close to his Husihuilke friends and stoically putting up with the Lord of the Sun’s patent hostility. The jaguar’s arrival had set the camp agog. The men gathered outside the tent, anxious to know what the animal’s message contained. Shortly afterwards, the warriors inside appeared. Dulkancellin raised the feathered collar aloft so that they all could see it.
‘Our brother jaguar has brought us the news we were waiting for,’ he said. ‘And it is as good as the light of the sun.’
‘The army of the Lords of the Sun is close by,’ said Dulkancellin. ‘It should not take more than a day and a night for them to meet up with us. And that will be before the Sideresians arrive.’
Although Dulkancellin was talking to all his men, he could not take his eyes off those of Kume. His son returned his gaze, with no flicker of acknowledgement.
‘It is true that the Sideresians are drawing near, and are doing so rapidly. Even so, we have time enough. We must make sure that tonight we rest. Eat and sing, because soon we will have to face a war which, whatever its outcome, will divide Time.’
Once the warriors had dispersed, Dulkancellin called Cucub over and asked him to feed the jaguar.
‘Let him get some rest too. He will be heading off again at first light to take the reply that Hoh-Quiú is expecting.’
Together, Dulkancellin and Molitzmós strung the feathers onto the collar, their length and colours conveying precise information for the Lords of the Sun about where and when the battle was to be fought.
The new day dawned. The jaguar, which had seemed to wish to sleep for ever, suddenly leapt to its feet when the Husihuilke warrior approached. As always, he was on his own. And as always, he knelt in front of him and put his arms round the animal’s neck to fit the code of feathers. The jaguar knew the man, and waited calmly for him to secure the collar.
‘You can go now, brother,’ said Dulkancellin as he tied the final knot. ‘Run as fast as you can to your destination. This is our only hope that you and we will still have an earth we can inhabit together.’
The jaguar began to lope away. But it had hardly left the camp when another man halted it with a whistle he had taught it to recognize. The jaguar knew this man too. His smell was always together with the smell of the other one. This one also called him brother as he undid his feathered collar and slipped another one in its place.
‘Now you can go,’ he told the animal.
As if the jaguar had taken it with him on his rapid journey, the day raced past. ‘The jaguar must already be with the Lords of the Sun,’ some of those in the camp said. ‘Not yet,’ replied others. ‘Hoh-Quiú and his men must have begun their march.’ ‘Not yet ...’ When two days had gone by since the jaguar left, even the least optimistic were expecting Hoh-Quiú to arrive at any moment. ‘He’ll send out an advance party ...’ ‘He’ll come in person . . .’
‘I suppose you can hardly wait to see your prince.’ Cucub had already noticed that those words ‘your prince’ had a terrible effect on Molitzmós, and so never missed an opportunity to say them.
The dislike the two men had for each other was well known, and put down to their different temperaments. Previous clashes between Cucub and Molitzmós had stayed within the bounds of a strained politeness that fooled nobody, but made their hatred more tolerable. This time, however, things were different. Molitzmós wheeled round on Cucub, grasped him by his tunic and lifted him off the ground. The Plumed One’s expression suggested he was the possessor of a terrible secret, which could destroy his adversary were he to let it slip.
‘I could tell you . . .’ Molitzmós hesitated. But Cucub had seen the venom flash on the tip of his tongue, and decided to continue to provoke the arrogant lord to get him to reveal the truths he was hiding.
‘Dulkancellin is my leader as well as yours, and he will not be pleased by your treatment of me.’
Cucub was afraid. Looking deep into the Lord of the Sun’s eyes, he could tell that Molitzmós might kill him if he baited him any further. Yet just a little more and his arrogance will make him spill all he is hiding from his mouth, he told himself.
At that very moment, however, cries of alarm came from the far side of the camp. Molitzmós let the Zitzahay go and ran towards the commotion. Cucub scurried after him, convinced Hoh-Quiú had at last been sighted. When the two men reached the others, they stood paralysed at what seemed like something from a nightmare.
The jaguar had returned, and was surrounded by a circle of horrified men. Round its neck was not a feathered collar, but a bundle tied in a bloodstained leather bag. Dulkancellin stepped forward and untied it from the animal’s neck. As soon as the jaguar felt itself freed from the disgusting weight, it sped off into the jungle. Everyone in the circle knew the leather bag contained a human head. At first, Dulkancellin was dreading only one thing: to find that it was Kupuka’s. That was the last thing he wanted. His hands struggled to undo the tight knots, but finally they yielded. Everyone could see it was the severed head of someone who had without doubt been one of the highest Lords of the Sun.
‘Tell us, Molitzmós, do you know this man?’ asked Dulkancellin.
‘He is not young enough to be Hoh-Quiú,’ Molitzmós replied. ‘All I can say is that his ear-hoops show he was one of the nobles in the ruling House.’
Whoever he might have been, the message was clear. The army of the Lords of the Sun had been attacked by the Sideresians. Attacked and destroyed. It was a terrible blow for the warriors of the Fertile Lands. What would happen now? Where were their enemies?
Blow upon blow rained on the heart of the Deer: at that moment guards from the north appeared. They were pale with fear.
‘They’ve appeared on the hillsides. The Sideresians have appeared; they will soon be upon us.’
All the men stared at Dulkancellin, waiting for his reply. For a moment, the Husihuilke felt brutally alone. In his mind’s eye, he saw the forest at the Ends of the Earth. He saw Old Mother Kush and her life-restoring bread. Then, more than ever the leader of his warriors, he gave the first order.
The battle was drawing near, and it was not the one they had planned. It was going to be different, and would be fought before the auspicious day announced by the stars. And the Lords of the Sun would not be with them. From Kupuka there had come nothing but an inexplicable silence. The Deer no longer had surprise on his side. Nor did he have the jungle’s protection. The battle would be fought on the open lower slopes of the Border Hills. The number and valour of their warriors seemed to be the only advantage the Fertile Lands had. The number, their valour, and the support of Magic. ‘And the strength of the earth, which will not abandon us on a day such as this,’ said the men.
By the time the Sideresians appeared on the horizon, the Deer had regained his courage and was ready to face them. The enemy was a black banner unfurling down the slopes. The Deer set out to fight with the colours of fire, of the sky and of the earth painted on his face and battledress.
The army of the Fertile Lands would fight in the same formation as before, this time divided on two fronts. But now they also had cavalry. Like Dulkancellin, the other Husihuilke warriors had immediately taken to the animals with manes. With Cucub’s help, they had learnt to ride skilfully and artfully.
As the Sideresians advanced, so did Misáianes and the great power contained in his name. The heart of the Deer was consumed with a single thought: his enemy’s true name. ‘The Time we knew and loved has gone for ever. We are not here to shed tears over it, but to fight for the Time to come,’ Dulkancellin told his men before the battle.
The armies were ready, each drawn up on either side of the land. The battle was about to begin, and the world fell silent. The winds withdrew to a distant sky; the sea pulled back its waves; the jungle sought refuge in its nests; mothers hushed the infants at their breasts.
‘Those of us who die in this war will be remembered for ever as the mountain of bones which held up the sun. For the Sun! For the Father!’ cried Dulkancellin. His last words were drowned out by the first volley of shots.
The warriors of the Fertile
Lands were hit by another unknown weapon, which spat more fire and roared even louder than the ones the Sideresians had used in the port the day that Drimus had escaped from Beleram. The fire fell on them like a rock from an exploding volcano. As they saw their companions torn open by this incomprehensible force, they had to choose. And they chose anger.
But for every Sideresian who fell, many more on the side of the Deer were slain. Long before they could close on their enemy, the warriors died as the fire struck them. Many archers did not succeed in loosing off a second arrow. Even though those they had launched hit their targets, and the Sideresians also began to lose men, their fire slowed the advance of the Fertile Lands. The Deer knew that the distance between them and the Sideresians was their worst handicap, and that as soon as they managed to cross it and come face to face with the enemy, their bravery would prevail.
But it was difficult to move forward over their own dead. A volcano explosion aimed at their west flank took with it many men who had been potters, weavers and beekeepers. Their blood now stained the earth. Another explosion, then another. It was even harder trampling on their own dead when they were beekeepers, potters, and weavers. The Sideresians’ surprise weapons were destroying the Deer.
In spite of everything, the army of the Fertile Lands kept going forward. The Husihuilke cavalry succeeded in reaching the Sideresians on their mounts: at last the Deer was where he wanted to be. The distance between the two armies was reduced to the length of a sword or spear, or a blow from a club or the edge of a stone. Or to nothing, which meant another death. Fighting with a fury that made them seem ten times more than they actually were, the warriors of the south scattered death among the Sideresians. So much so that for a moment the Sideresians were overcome by panic. Dulkancellin killed with every blow of his axe, until he and Dusky One were covered with blood. Three of his warriors remained close by him, to protect his flanks and his back, because death was seeking out the Husihuilke chief from all sides.