The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  As he sat, he anticipated their arrival. He felt his rage ready to spring out and unleash itself upon them. He also felt utterly lonely and longed for his father and his village. He longed to be above the chamber, to be with the people of Galdea and to join them in their fight. But on the forefront of his mind and his attention, he was acutely attuned to his present situation, to his ongoing initiation. He knew that his thirst for a companion would be quenched by the life and death struggle with the next Cruxai that dared to enter his chamber.

  Jankaro’s body pulsed with the infusion of the plant’s energy. He knew what Anhael and the Galdeans were doing. They were feeding him a plant that was helping him learn how to fight and kill the Cruxai. The plant spoke to him through his intuition. He saw their muscles and joints, their bloodstream, their combat instincts. His body moved of its own volition. He simply let the rage flow through his veins as he dismantled their attacks and executed them.

  When he wasn’t fighting them, he paced back and forth across the chamber anticipating their next attack. Sometimes it ended very quickly as he could just lift them up and throw them head first into the wall and they did not get back up. Sometimes it was two big and beastly Cruxai who would bend and break his bones, cut his flesh, pull out his hair, and nearly squeeze out his last breath before he finally defeated them.

  After one of these battles, Jankaro ate the plant and sat back against the wall. He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. Wriggling sensations writhed up and down like snakes through his body. In his stomach he felt a spinning wheel of fire. He felt like the will and life force of the Cruxai he had just killed was burning up and being devoured by the flames in his core. Pulses of fiery energy shot from his heart into his fingertips and toes. He had never felt so ready for the next fight and his attention extended from his forehead like antennae that constantly scanned the chamber for any Cruxai that might emerge.

  In the center of his skull between his ears he perceived a small bright light the size of his fingertip. From that place in his mind, he heard people singing. It was a bright melody that sang of victory, and bounced along like his adolescent footsteps through the jungle: full of wonder and delight. As long as he had that plant with her song filling up his body, mind and soul, there was no way that the Cruxai could possibly defeat him.

  Jankaro awoke, sprang up, and looked around. There was no one there. That was odd. He had grown accustomed to waking up to the attack of a Cruxai. He checked his food but found nothing. No Cruxai, no plant. Nothing to do. He wondered what to do with himself as he paced back and forth across the chamber.

  He started to feel anxious and desperate. The Cruxai and the plant were his companions. Without them he was alone. He didn’t want to hear his thoughts when he was alone. He didn’t want to go back into his memories of the village and being eaten by the giant snake, and the thoughts of his father’s grief. He just wanted to get on with it, to go forward with the initiation, to keep killing Cruxai until they were all dead.

  The latches released and the door opened. He saw the illuminated shape of a man’s body come through the door. The rage possessed him as he pounced and squeezed his throat. A mist exploded from the man’s mouth and stung Jankaro’s eyes. The pain made him release his hold. He collapsed to the floor, clutching at his face.

  “Jankaro, it’s me, Anhael. You made it through the first phase,” the man said.

  Jankaro was still holding his face in his hands and groaning from the pain.

  “It will pass in a moment. I keep that wisi juice in my mouth when I come to check on an initiate just in case they try to kill me like you just did.” Anhael shrugged his shoulders. “You can relax for a moment.”

  Jankaro kept his eyes closed and collected himself as the pain subsided. He looked up at Anhael and saw a body of glowing white light. He realized that he should have recognized right away that he was not a Cruxai. “Sorry.”

  “Lose any fingers?”

  “I still have them all.”

  “Any teeth?” Anhael knelt down in front of Jankaro.

  “They tried and failed, but they got most of my hair. How do they get in?”

  “In this chamber, with these plants, reality is different. Anything is possible. What is real to you is real. This is an experience for you to learn how to be one of us.”

  “You? You’re a soldier? I thought you were a medicine man!”

  “You are correct. But I passed through this initiation before any of you, and offered it to the soldiers so that they might see in the darkness and develop their potential. Pay attention to what you learn down here. Every soldier brings back something valuable that helps us all to fight better.

  “That was the first plant, yuluwati. We use it to clear your space energetically, to prepare you for the next phase.”

  “Why do I hate the Cruxai so much?”

  “I don’t know. Why do you hate them? I know why I hate them. They destroyed my village and killed my people.”

  “I don’t know why I hate them.”

  Anhael reached out and placed his hands on Jankaro’s shoulders. His hands felt cool and soothing. “Now is the time to take a deep breath. You’ve been hard at work. Relax yourself. Breathe in, nice and slow. Breathe out, nice and slow.”

  They took a couple of deep breaths together. Jankaro felt himself relax and noticed how exhausted he felt. It seemed one long night, or one long nightmare, that left him at his wit’s end, so frazzled and discombobulated that he nearly killed the one sent to help him. He felt a sob erupt from his stomach, but no tears would flow; only his stomach heaved.

  “Now it is time for another plant. I will give you an energetic cleansing to make way for the new plant. Lie down on your back and breathe slow and easy.” Anhael jostled Jankaro’s legs and set them in place. He wobbled his arms and lay them down by his sides. He held his head in his cupped hands, pulled on his skull slowly to straighten and loosen his neck, and gently laid it back down on the hard stone.

  Jankaro took a deep breath and gazed up. He wasn’t through with his first breath when he felt a Cruxai on top of him. His body lurched and kicked. Anhael touched him lightly on his shoulders and it stopped him from leaping up and going for his throat again. The spasms continued down his legs for a moment and subsided.

  “O nava shia wandah” Anhael chanted in a baritone voice as he knelt beside Jankaro. His voice was strong and clear and resonated with an ancient power. Jankaro saw red, purple and blue coils emanate from Anhael’s mouth that spin down and danced along each joint in his body. Anhael waved his arms while he chanted, directing the energy with his hands. Jankaro felt bursts of energy in his body and leaping sensations wherever Anhael directed the energy of the chant.

  On the ceiling of the chamber, Jankaro saw a large green glowing disc with intricate geometric designs all over it. He felt the sacred imprints from the spirit world received through his eyes. The symbols projected from a beam of green light coming from the top of Anhael’s head. The lines squiggled, danced and reformed themselves into other symbols as the chant progressed and the color gradually shifted from green to yellow to red to purple to blue. It formed a spinning wheel, spiraling down and spinning directly into Jankaro’s chest. The light hit him and filled his body. For a moment he felt the floor drop away beneath him and he floated. Beautiful women in multicolored dresses entered from nowhere and caressed his face with soft feathers. As quickly as they arrived, they vanished. Cold water splashed his face and chest. He watched Anhael dip the cup in the bucket and pour the scented floral water all over him. He smelled a blended scent of flowers, some familiar and some new. He reached up and pulled a wet flower petal off his lips.

  He realized that all the days fighting the Cruxai had kindled a raging fire in his core. The cool water was exactly what he needed. He could have stayed under Anhael’s care for a long time and been perfectly content.

&nb
sp; “Okay Jankaro, don’t get too blissful. There is still a lot of work for you to complete. Get some rest. Your next plant teacher will be here soon.”

  Jankaro gazed up at the ceiling and lingered in a pleasurable relaxed state. He watched from the corner of his eye as Anhael’s glowing figure departed. The door closed and the darkness wrapped around him. The pleasant feelings lingered, but soon blended with the icy feeling of solitude.

  Shalea

  Jankaro sat in the darkness and listened to the silence. He feared what was coming for him next and tried not to think about it. He distracted himself by reminiscing about every flower he ever smelt, every tree he climbed, every fish he ate, every lizard he captured and who among them had become his best of friends. He remembered every face from the village. All the men and all the new wives they brought home. He remembered wondering about his mother. He still wondered who she had been.

  A door opened in the corner of the chamber. Jankaro took the leaves from the plate and put them into his mouth. They were even more bitter than those of the first plant. He chewed the leaves and swallowed the juices that remained. He was counting on the presence of the new plant within him to alleviate his loneliness. When he finished he lay back on the floor of the chamber.

  After a few breaths he saw light around him and the chamber began to glow. He saw the outlines of the stone slabs as light streamed through the cracks of every one. The walls began to fall away. One by one the stones tumbled down. Bright light shone all around him and burned his eyes. He buried his eyes in his arms to shield them.

  When the burning subsided, he lowered his arms, but still couldn’t open his eyes. The light was too bright. He knew it was the light of the sun; he felt its warmth all over his body. He didn’t want to move. He rested there while the sun filled his body with warmth, and it made him smile.

  He heard birds chirping all around him. He knew those birds. Those were the ones from back home, in Olaya. He could feel the moisture in the air and it felt just like home.

  After a little while he could start to blink his eyes open a little bit and he caught glimpses of the jungle all around him. When he could open them up a little more, he could recognize the trees and the flowers and the ants that crawled across his hand.

  When he could keep his eyes open for a little while, he started to get used to the glare of the sun. He held his hand against his forehead and used it to shade his face from the sun’s rays. He looked around. He was back home. But was it real? Was he still in the chamber? He remembered he had eaten another plant, and it could have put him in an altered state. He walked forward holding out his arms to feel for the walls, but there were none, only the leaves hanging from the trees.

  He looked around and he knew exactly where he was. He looked behind him and there was the river. He walked forward a hundred paces through the forest, and there it was, Olaya, his home. He took another step and there, running past him was Rongo. He called out to him, but Rongo didn’t seem to listen or care.

  He headed for his father’s house. Everyone looked right through him like he wasn’t even there. There were children of all different ages. Some of the men he recognized, but not the women. They all looked unfamiliar. The men looked younger. It seemed like a happier time. It dawned on Jankaro that this must have been the time before his mother died. He ran towards his father’s hut.

  Jankaro found Jorobai outside his hut working in his fields of yucca and plantains. He felt the emotion well up inside as he ran to him.

  “Father! It’s me, Jankaro! I’m home!” He couldn’t contain himself. He reached his father and flung his arms wide to embrace him. He was heartbroken when he passed right through his father’s body like a ghost, lost his balance and fell down. He turned around and looked up at the youthful Jorobai. “It’s me, father, I’m right here.”

  He took a minute to watch his father work. He stood up and took a closer look at Jorobai’s face and saw that he was not the same man. This wasn’t the bereaved and harried Jorobai that Jankaro had always known. This man’s eyes gleamed with joy and satisfaction. It was a face Jankaro had never seen his father wear. He always wanted to run off to explore the jungle, and leave his father to work the fields and gardens and tend to the village. But now it was different. He didn’t want to run away and explore the jungle. He wanted to be right there, at his father’s side, cultivating the plants that brought his people life.

  “Father,” Jankaro spoke, but Jorobai did not notice him. “I’m sorry I abandoned you. I want you to know that I am coming home. Do not despair. I will come home and we will work the earth together.”

  Jankaro was watching his father work when he saw a beautiful woman approach and kiss Jorobai. She held a baby in her arms. He knew instantly that this woman was Shalea, his mother. The child was himself. He felt his heart pounding and bursting out of his chest in a surge of pure emotion.

  “Mother!” He gazed at her in wonder. He gazed at himself as a baby. He could feel himself in her arms and it felt like the true comfort he had craved for so long. She smelled of the fresh blossom tucked in the folds of her long, flowing black hair. He went around behind his father so he could gaze into his mother’s dark brown eyes as they blazed with heart and passion and carried the secrets of her ancestors. He beheld her beauty and her power. He felt the love between the three of them surround him, enter him and touch his core. He felt perfect contentment as he rested his hands on his heart, and though he had not been able to remember his mother before, now he could feel that he had been there, in that moment. The feeling was not new, but it had been resurrected after lying dormant for so many years. He could feel the peace of his baby self as he rested there in his mother’s arms.

  “I am taking Jankaro to the river for his bath, then I will start to make dinner. Don’t break your back out here.”

  “As you wish, my love.” They kissed again and she walked away.

  “I will go with her now. It is good to see you, father.”

  Jankaro followed his mother as Jorobai knelt down and caressed the leaves of his plants, humming a familiar tune.

  Jankaro caught up with his mother at the river. She was chatting with the other mothers and watching the children play and laughing while she poured water over his baby self, who was barely able to stand as he reached his arms up and held his mother’s fingers.

  Jankaro followed as she carried his baby self back into the hut and sat him down on the ground. It was so familiar. It was the same hut, but so very different with his mother’s presence. It felt so warm and alive and full of joy and light. He watched his mother rub herbs on the fish and sing a song while his baby self watched her too.

  He listened intently to the song. His mother’s voice was pure and clear and strong, and the beautiful melody resonated with an ancient power. Jankaro trembled in his gut. The song moved him to the point that he felt dizzy and he had to close his eyes and lay down right next to his baby self and breathe deeply.

  His mother’s voice came closer and it sounded like she was singing directly in his ear. He smelled the herbs on her hands and they smelled like the plant that he had just eaten in the chamber. He heard her singing right into his ear and then inside his head. His belly rumbled and danced to the melody. His feet kicked, his arms spasmed and his body shivered. Multicolored symbols flashed across his mind’s eye. He saw the leaves of the plant imprinted over the bodies of serpents with multicolored heads. He cried out, “Mother! Don’t let them hurt me!”

  “It’s okay Jankaro. Be calm. Mama won’t let them hurt you.” He heard his baby self crying as she continued singing. Jankaro’s body began to calm down. As the song drew to a close, he heard her voice outside of himself again. He opened his eyes and saw her kneeling in front of his baby self with her hands gently placed on his forehead. “You’re going to be a very strong boy someday!” She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Someday you’ll go on a
big hunt with your father.” She picked him up and went outside the hut to prepare the fire.

  Jankaro was in shock, stunned by this surreal experience. It felt like too much to take in all at once. He heard his baby self babbling and making sounds. He looked around the hut. On the outside it was the same as the old hut, but on the inside it looked nothing like the one he last slept in. The walls sang with the colors of flowers, beaded jewelry, woven garments and painted crossbeams. Rather than two small, separate beds, there was a larger bed for two and right beside it there was a tiny bed for a baby. There were shelves full of medicines, perfumes, herbs and spices. The place Jankaro remembered sharing with Jorobai was stark and bland, with hunting, fishing and farming tools strewn about and hanging from the walls. Now he could understand why he loved the jungle so much. It felt more like home than Jorobai’s hut. But this hut was different. The jungle was alive and vibrant inside it, just as it was all around it. He thought of Jorobai back at Olaya without him, how dark the hut must have become after he disappeared.

  Jankaro went outside to watch his mother cook the fish. “Our people have eaten fish for many years. When we eat fish we say ‘O hala Arania” to thank Arania, the river goddess, for her generosity. His baby self slapped his hands on the dirt, smiled, and squealed.

  Jankaro watched as Jorobai came home and the family ate their evening meal. He felt elated to see them all so happy together, but also heartbroken that it had all been lost.

  Jankaro fell asleep and awoke the next day at the same time as his baby self. He woke up to the sight and sounds of his mother helping to prepare his father’s pack for a journey.