by Sam Puma
Anhael drew his sword, turned to face the dead end of the tunnel, and pulled on an unseen lever.
“Jankaro, shield your eyes!”
Jankaro squinted hard and looked down as light crept in and the sunbeams stretched across one side of the tunnel. Anhael peered around the entrance.
“Wait here a minute,” he said as he slipped out into the daylight.
As the moments passed, Jankaro’s eyes adjusted, and he could hear birds and insects singing all at once. He leaned out of the shadows for a moment and his eyes burned as he slammed them shut.
“I don’t see any Cruxai around,” said Anhael. “Look to the treeline ahead. Look, out beyond. A vast jungle. Your home must be somewhere out there. But we can’t go searching for it, we’ve got work to do. And we’ve got to get back before nightfall.”
Jankaro struggled with his vision as he stepped out of the cave. He flickered his eyes and took in the sights around him for brief moments before closing them. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the treeline ahead.
Anhael instructed his helpers to keep watch while he knelt down and beckoned Jankaro to do the same. “How does it feel to see the sun again?”
Jankaro squinted up at Anhael’s face as he sat down on his knees and faced him. “It has never been so bright,” he said as held his hand on his forehead to cast a shadow over his eyes.
Anhael opened his medicine bag and pulled out a pipe carved from wood and a small pouch. He loaded the contents of the pipe into the pouch. “You remember Vishana? It was the second plant I gave you in the chamber.”
“Yes,” Jankaro recognized the smell. “I learned a song from the plant. My mother sang it to me when I was a child.”
“Now you must use the plant to activate your intuition. If you ask her with sincerity in your heart, she will guide you to the yanigo tree.”
When Anhael lit the pipe, Jankaro heard his mother singing inside his mind.
“Vishana,” said Anhael as he exhaled puffs of smoke. “I call upon you to help my friend Jankaro find the yanigo tree.” He passed the pipe to Jankaro. “Take four puffs and ask Vishana for help.”
Jankaro accepted the pipe. He puffed on the burning herbs and the flavor pleased him. A euphoric feeling came over him.
“Stay focused,” said Anhael. “Talk to her. Ask her where to find yanigo.”
Jankaro refocused his attention as he puffed again. “Vishana, I am Jankaro of Olaya.” His mind was calm but his heart guided his words. “I honor you and thank you for what you showed me in the chamber. I come before you, kneeling in Sagaya’s palm. Show me where to go.” He took a final puff and blew the smoke on his own chest. “Show me where to find yanigo.”
Jankaro passed the pipe back to Anhael, who extinguished it, emptied out the ashes and put it away. He stood and helped Jankaro to his feet.
Jankaro watched Janesa for a moment as she stalked the treeline with her bow.
“Your vision is returning,” said Anhael. “Go ahead. Lead us. Let Vishana guide your footsteps.”
“This way,” said Jankaro, as he stepped into the jungle with bow in hand. The effect of the plant was similar to the elder seed. He felt the presence of Vishana in his gut guiding his footsteps.
As they walked into the dense foliage, Jankaro put away his bow and drew his sword to help clear a path. He was so keenly alert that there might be Cruxai around he forgot to notice the sweet sensation of being back on the surface of the earth and walking in the jungle he had missed for so long. He could feel the plants guiding him, he knew they were going the right way.
“The Cruxai don’t generally move during the day. They sleep. But if we disturb them, they will awaken. They are slow to wake, but when they do, they will fight us. Each of us could take about five each.”
“Surely Janesa could handle seven or eight,” Maximus said with a smile.
Jankaro looked over at Janesa and she smiled and shrugged. Whenever he was next to her, he got an excited feeling that raced up his spine. But there was no time to dwell on it. There was a task at hand that required all his concentration. He feared for them as he dwelled on Anhael’s words, and took great care with every footstep as he hacked away at the dense foliage that impeded their path.
After a few hours of marching had passed, they stopped to rest and drink water as the clouds were gathering overhead. Jankaro knew rain was coming. As he scanned the ground around his feet for sleeping Cruxai, he saw a bright green frog hopping along in front of him. It reminded him of his time in the chamber with the frog man and all the butterflies flying around inside his body. The raindrops fell on him one by one at first, but soon it was pouring, and everyone got soaked. Together they trudged onward, pulling their feet up from the clinging mud with every step. Jankaro didn’t mind the rain. He knew that the jungle was vast, but he thought Olaya could be just ahead, and there were plenty of yanigo there. When the rain cleared, a question entered his mind, the one he carried every day throughout his childhood: what new creature will I encounter today?
As the clouds parted and the sun bore down on him again, he had to stop and shield his eyes from its full brightness. His eyes had still not fully adapted to daylight.
“It’s all right,” said Anhael. “Take your time; we will watch out for you.”
“Look!” said Janesa. “It’s so beautiful. I have never seen one like it before. Its wings are shimmering.”
“New to me too,” said Anhael. “I used to see so many kinds of butterflies when I was a child growing up in the jungle, but it’s rare to see them in the cities and castles where I have spent so much of my time since the war began. This one is so big and shiny. It glistens in the light of the sun.”
Jankaro struggled for a while, blinking and opening his eyes, keeping his head down. But finally he adapted and was able to look up and see what they were looking at. It was a huge, shiny blue butterfly, gently moving its shimmering wings as it rested on a branch a few feet ahead of where he stood.
“It’s you!” A wide smile lit up Jankaro’s face as he sheathed his sword. A familiar warmth swept over him as he put all his attention on the butterfly. The auspicious quality of the moment was not lost on him, and he could feel Sagaya with him, communicating with him through the creatures.
“My people call it Moropo,” said Jankaro. “When I was a boy I would leave my village and explore the jungle every day. Whenever I saw Moropo, I would follow her, and she would show me something new.” He took a step closer to the butterfly, and it sprung into the air, fluttering away from them, deeper into the jungle. “Come on, let’s follow her!” Jankaro shouted as he ran after the butterfly.
He ran in and out of rain showers, up and over logs, and leapt through the treetops.
“Jankaro, slow down!” cried Anhael.
But Jankaro was feeling too much like the monkey boy of his youth, and now he had twice the power. He didn’t care about the ants that bit him. The pain was invigorating. And then all he saw was water, and his companions emerged behind him. It was a wide river, and the butterfly was headed for the other side.
“We need to build a raft!” Jankaro cried, as he huffed and puffed. The air felt like the essence of life, and he could feel the sun’s rays heating his body. He reveled in the light of day and dreaded the ones who thrived on darkness. He happened upon a piece of driftwood and picked it up. “Help me build a raft!”
“Jankaro wait!” Anhael cried. “You don’t need to build a raft. Follow me.” He led them around a bend in the river to a finely carved canoe tethered and waiting for them.
“Are you sure we can make it back by dark?” said Maximus.
“The sun has not yet peaked,” said Anhael. “We can make it to the other side and back before dark, but we need to leave extra time just in case. We won’t have much time over there.”
Jankaro’s response was to untie the canoe and prepare it for l
aunch. The others jumped in and he pushed off. For a while he kicked the water, propelling it out, then he leapt inside. The others plowed forward with their oars, two on the left, two on the right, while he steered. He watched the butterfly in the distance and followed her.
“I used to stab the crocodiles when I was young and crossed the river alone,” Jankaro said as Janesa swung her knife down on a large, slithering creature passing just underneath the boat.
It’s body jolted up into the bottom of the boat as it hastened away, nearly knocking everyone out. Jankaro shuddered. Everyone helped right the canoe and kept it going forward as it drifted with the current.
“I’ve had to cross this river before,” said Anhael.
Jankaro wanted to concur, but he had to admit to himself that there were many rivers in the jungle, and often times he couldn’t tell one from the other.
“Some of our gifts come from the other side. It looks like yours will too,” said Anhael.
Jankaro smiled as a vision of the tree imprinted itself on his minds eye.
“Yes,” said Jankaro. “We are going to the other side. The yanigo tree is on the other side. Moropo is guiding us. The plants are guiding us. The yanigo tree is calling us. Sagaya speaks through the creatures of his jungle. This I know, for the elder seed revealed it to me.”
The rain came and went as they rowed. Pink dolphins burst up and greeted them with wild spontaneous flips and dances. Driftwood floated past. There were many fish they could have killed and eaten. But there were no other boats around. Only them. After an hour’s labor, they made it to the other side.
Moropo fluttered there, greeting them. Then she flew into the jungle beyond the riverbank. Anhael jumped down into the shallow water, guided the boat to shore, and tied it up. Jankaro leaped out and stalked forward, toward the trees and into the jungle as the others followed. Anhael lit his pipe and blew smoke, chanting softly.
Jankaro was moving slowly, then he stopped and looked around.
“We’re here.” He spread his arms wide. “These are all yanigo.” There were many tall trees all around them. “We need to skin them.”
“I offer you this blessing, my brothers,” said Anhael as he blew smoke on the trees.
Jankaro pulled the Galdean blade from his pack. It had a handle on each end of a sharp curved blade the length of his forearm. He wrapped his arms and legs around the trunk of a big yanigo tree and climbed. It’s fragrant sap rubbed on his arms and the stickiness helped him climb. It was a big tree, not the kind he would try on just any day. He remembered the smell and he knew that he had climbed it before, and his grandfathers had too, when they were young. But this was the biggest tree he had ever attempted to climb. He felt good and strong and confident. Twenty feet up, he stopped. He held tight with his legs and one arm. He gripped the Galdean stripping blade and it was so sharp and shiny, he was amazed.
He clenched tighter with his legs and leaned into the tree, placing both hands on the handles of the blade and resting it on the tree. “I am sorry to do this to you. I honor your sacrifice.”
He took a deep breath, and released his grip with his legs. He fell, but he hung on to the handles of the blade, and as it slowed his fall to the earth, it cleanly stripped away a twenty foot strip of the bark, the width of his hand. Anhael picked it up and together they examined it.
“It’s tactile and strong,” said Franco as he flexed it back and forth.
“We need to strip it down thinner so we can wrap it around our skin, like the tree’s skin becomes our skin,” said Jankaro as he tried to wrap it around his arm and found that is was too thick and stiff to work with.
“To test it out, we need more,” said Anhael.
“I’ll get more.” Jankaro headed up the tree again. Maximus, Franco and Janesa resumed their watch.
“Best to make haste,” said Anhael as he noticed the sun was past its apex and headed for the western horizon.
Jankaro made three more passes, and on his way up for the fourth pass, Janesa dismissed herself and walked a little ways back into the forest. When he reached the top of his climb, he heard her call for help. His adrenaline surged. His arms were sticky, so the fastest way down was with the stripper. He slid down, taking off another long strip. He drew his sword and ran after the others. He heard the sounds of a struggle, but when he got there it was over. Janesa’s sword was covered in dark red blood. On the ground lay five dead Cruxai, each having suffered a grievous wound her sword. Maxiums and Franco looked around for any more Cruxai while Anhael stabbed each of the fallen through the heart to make sure they were dead.
“Are you hurt?” Jankaro asked.
“I’m hurt that they would interrupt me while I was trying to relieve myself,” said Janesa as she wiped her sword with a large leaf.
Jankaro noticed a strand of hair had come loose from the tight tie that held it behind her head. “They didn’t even touch you,” he said as he looked her over.
“You should see her with a bow,” said Franco.
“Let’s take what we’ve got and go,” said Anhael. “There could be a bigger group nearby. They are easier to kill when they are first waking up, but not as easy when they are fully awake. As you know, at night they are at their most fearsome.”
They arrived back at the yanigo tree that Jankaro had stripped. They picked up the five strips, each of them carrying one. They ran to the river and leapt back into the boat with Jankaro steering for the opposite shore. He looked back over his shoulder as they rowed away, to see if he could see Moropo, but she was gone. Surely the Cruxai had scared her away.
Halfway across the river, Franco slowed his pace and spoke up. “Anhael, my arms are about to fall off. Can I have some juzi stick?”
“What did I tell you before?” Anhael replied. “We only use the juzi stick when it is absolutely necessary. Let’s slow our pace down a little bit. We will reach the other side soon and we should have enough time to make it back before dark.”
“Jankaro,” said Janesa. “Surely you must be wondering about the origins of the Cruxai.”
“There was an old man in the wagon from Calixo that said that an old shaman made love to a giant lizard and out came the Cruxai.”
All of the others burst out laughing.
“Was he smoking on that pungent weed?” asked Maximus.
“He was smoking something,” said Jankaro and the others chuckled again.
“Anhael,” said Janesa. “Tell Jankaro what really happened. I am sure he would rather hear the truth.”
“My father was there when it all began,” said Anhael as he slowly and steadily stroked the water with his paddle. “He told me how it happened. Agustin outlawed the shamans of the jungle. He ordered them all rounded up and killed. Some of them resisted, and they were captured or killed. He gathered political power, and Oranos was among those who stood up to him, protecting the shamans of the southern jungle, where we are now. But Agustin would not hear of any other way but his own. One shaman used his magic to resist by creating creatures that mixed the blood of different animals. He created the mongrels that would become the Cruxai. They were savage warriors, and they served as his bodyguards against the forces that Agustin sent to destroy him. Agustin sent larger forces, and the shaman created a larger force of Cruxai.”
“You have to keep the rhythm,” said Maximus to Franco. “If you don’t keep rhythm, the predators below might think we are a wounded animal.” Franco blushed and adjusted his stroke to match the others.
“Agustin executed a plan that stole control of the Cruxai from the shaman,” Anhael continued. “He rounded up all the shamans in his dungeons, and through extortion and threats upon their families and tribes, he coerced them into brewing up a powerful potion. He drank the potion, and through a war in the spirit world, he won control of the army of Cruxai. Then he turned it upon the peoples of the south who refused to take his side. Si
nce then he has made war upon Oranos, but for years his face has not been seen, nor the face of any human to the north of us. All we ever see are Cruxai.
“Today could be an historic day in this war. The Juruga are always difficult to fight. It is best to fight them with two or more soldiers. It was a miracle you surprised one and killed it. Orion lost his leg after he was hit with that spit. It was dead to him.” Anhael drifted through his memories and the story of the war as the canoe plodded closer to the shore, and the rain came pouring down once again. “Now we can protect ourselves against our fiercest enemy. We will test it out, then we will bring many people down here to harvest the bark. As long as we can get you back alive, we will have armor ready for all the soldiers before the Cruxai’s next attack.” The boat was getting close to the shore. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so we need to move fast,” he said as the rains subsided and the canoe glided into the riverbank.
They tied up the boat and were off at a fast trot, with Anhael leading the way. The boat had drifted downstream on both trips across, so they were in a new area. It all looked much the same to Jankaro, but he trusted that Anhael knew the way back. Anhael hacked away with his sword at the plants that blocked their passage. As they got deeper into the jungle, their pace slowed to a march as he cleared the path. Jankaro was enjoying the scent of the yanigo’s sap on his arms, but he didn’t put his sword down because he was anticipating Cruxai at any moment.
After a long stretch of afternoon marching, they stopped for a rest. “How will we test the yanigo bark?” Jankaro asked.
“We make the armor to your specifications,” said Anhael. “Then we suit you up in it. Did you know we captured a Juruga at the battle of Dorfin? We will arrange for him to spit on you with your armor on.”
Jankaro’s throat tightened and he gulped. “Arrange?”
“Don’t worry, he won’t have a weapon, and we’ll keep him chained. All you have to do is provoke him to spit at you.”
“Great.”
“Come on, let’s get back on the march. We must get back by dusk.” Anhael strode forward again, slashing through the dense foliage. Then he turned toward Jankaro for a moment. “You need not fear. The elder seed always delivers. You saw it happen down there, you will see it happen up here too.”