The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  The Juruga’s blade came down in a stroke aimed at splitting Ixtlayo’s skull. Jankaro lurched up and blocked with his own sword. The impact drove him backwards, knocked the sword out of his hands and knocked him flat on his back. He sprung up and scrambled for a weapon, surrounded by the chaos of the battle. Ixtlayo sunk his claws into the Juruga’s chest, swung his hind legs up and kicked rapidly until his entrails spilled out. He never took another swing at Ixtlayo. The jaguars and pumas were doing the same to the smaller Cruxai as blood and guts splashed about.

  Jankaro hastily grabbed a sharpened stick and thrust it into the side of a hairy Cruxai as he ducked the arcing slash of its sword. He pushed back and it stumbled backwards. It came at him again as he scanned around for another weapon. He reached for a knife at his belt, but a huge black jaguar pounced on the Cruxai and brought it down with a bite to its neck. Jankaro wrestled the sword from the hands of the dying Cruxai. He looked for Ixtlayo and saw him up ahead, thrashing his paws back and forth, sending Cruxai flying in all directions.

  As he made his way to Ixtlayo, the Galdean arrows soared overhead and cut through the ranks of the advancing Cruxai. He stepped over a dying puma, its face mutilated from Juruga spit. He put it out of its misery with his sword. The Cruxai had ten burning bridges mounted on the wall and several more were yet to be set in place. As much as he wanted to kill off Juruga one by one, he knew they needed to slow the pace of the advance.

  “Ixtlayo!” Jankaro screamed as he reached up to mount. “We need to take out those bridges!” He pulled on the buckles of his armor to try to steer him, and was surprised that Ixtlayo complied. He reared up and roared and many of the cats took his direction as he fought his way to the nearest bridge.

  “Guard my back!” Jankaro shouted as he hacked away at the bindings at the base of the bridge. The cats formed in around him as he tried to destroy the bridge, but nothing worked. Ixtlayo and his army fought off the advancing horde, but lost most of the smaller cats and half the pumas and jaguars in the process. Ixtlayo killed another Juruga with the help of three jaguars hanging on its sword arm with their jaws. The Galdeans on top of the wall finished off the Cruxai on the bridge, and without the weight of the Cruxai they were able to push it off into the chasm.

  Jankaro was distraught to see his newfound army shrink to less than half its size. He grieved his loss in one roaring cry of pain as he called for Ixtlayo. They fought their way through the advancing horde to the next bridge. When they arrived, Ixtlayo growled at Jankaro. He dug his claws into the wood and started thrashing. Jankaro turned to the horde and fought alongside the cats, guarding Ixtlayo’s back. He took an arrow in the front of his hip and buckled over in pain. He barely got his sword up to block the thrust of a spear when he heard a crashing sound behind him. Ixtlayo had ripped through the bridge with his claws and sent it crashing down into the chasm with all the Cruxai still on it. A battle cry erupted from atop the wall and Jankaro thought they might have found the key. But his hip was bleeding and he struggled to keep up with the pace of the battle.

  They were down to about fifty of the fiercest big cats as they battled through the Cruxai to reach the next bridge. Jankaro discovered newfound protection as arrows from the Galdeans on the wall targeted the Cruxai that advanced on him. He cried out as he pulled the arrow from his hip and tried to fight as Ixtlayo thrashed at the next bridge.

  An immense fear came over him as a Juruga charged him. The spit hit his hand and nearly knocked his sword away. But he clutched it just in time for the impact of the Juruga’s sword. A puma jumped up and latched on the Juruga’s wrist as Jankaro lifted his arm to block. The Juruga dropped the sword but flung the body of the puma into Jankaro, knocking him over the edge of the chasm. He screamed and dragged his fingers on the wall as he fell. Ixtlayo’s lighting reaction saved him from a fall to his death. Just after he finished off the third bridge and it collapsed, he extended his paw down and his claws snagged Jankaro’s back, digging though his armor and into his skin. He pulled him up and back onto solid ground.

  The Cruxai kept advancing and Ixtlayo was down to 20 of his fiercest jaguars. But the Galdeans were recovering and sent all of their soldiers to the wall, four hundred strong. The arrows flew into the front of the Cruxai ranks as Jankaro staggered along behind Ixtlayo in a bloody haze. His sword dragged on the ground beside him. Galdean arrows took down any Cruxai that came near him. “Keep fighting, Jankaro,” he thought he heard Janesa’s voice as a familiar scent rose from an arrow that landed at his feet. The scent of the juzi stick burst up through his nostrils. He lifted his sword and roared as he charged the Cruxai who stabbed the back of Ixtlayo’s calf while he worked on the next bridge.

  One of the jaguars caught a breath of the juzi stick and went into a frenzy. It climbed the back of a Juruga, reached around its face, slashed out its eyes with its claws and bit into its neck. The Juruga pulled it off and threw it into the chasm, along with a large chunk of its own flesh. Jankaro finished it off with a sword thrust into its side, through its ribs and up into its heart. Ixtlayo finished ripping up the bridge and it fell. Another bridge on the far end finally collapsed after burning for so long. The Galdeans targeted the Cruxai carrying the replacement bridges and any that attacked Jankaro and Ixtlayo.

  While Ixltayo worked the next bridge, Jankaro and the jaguars took on a Juruga. The jaguars climbed up his arms and onto his back while Jankaro thrust a sword into his gut two times. He killed two jaguars with his spit before they dragged him down and mauled him to death.

  Ixtlayo dropped the next bridge and the Galdeans brought down another. The last three were burning and full of dead and dying Cruxai. A shower of arrows continued flying over his head and down on the horde. Bodies piled all around. Jankaro couldn’t take a step without walking on them. He looked up to see the glowing aura of the Juruga with the Ashtari hide shouting and waving its arms, signaling retreat. The horde hastened west, back to Dorfin. Cries of victory rose from the Galdean ranks on the wall.

  The sunlight was on its way, and Ixtlayo growled at the last six remaining jaguars of his army. Their bodies were ravaged with injuries, and they slowly made their way off the battlefield. Ixtlayo went after them, leaving Jankaro standing alone in a field of death and carnage. He watched the Cruxai horde disappear over the horizon. The sky gradually shifted from black to dark blue as he stood in a daze, with dead Cruxai piled over dead jaguars at his feet, and arrows sticking up everywhere, trembling in the wind like a field of tall grass.

  The heat inside his body shifted to cold, he tightly gripped the bloody knife in his hand and clenched his teeth to keep them from rattling. His head, hip, back and shoulder all screamed with pain. The pool of blood below him looked warm. He figured if he could nestle in among the bodies he could get comfortable and sleep. If only there was something for the pain. He needed to lie down. He dropped down on one knee and landed on a Cruxai’s chest. It coughed and a burst of blood shot up out of its mouth. Its eyes opened and closed and once again it went limp.

  “Jankaro.”

  He turned his head slowly to look. It was a woman with a fearful expression on her face. She approached slowly with her palms up. “It’s me, Janesa. Just put the knife down and let me help you.”

  She looked familiar enough through his blurred vision. He was about to comply, but something reached out and grabbed her leg. As she jumped back, Jankaro jumped up and pounced on the Cruxai, twisting his knife into its chest until there was no movement. He left the knife there and tried to stand. Janesa took his hands and helped him up.

  She picked him up and slung his whole body over her shoulders. She carried him through the pile of bodies and arrows, careful not to lose her balance or step on any sharp objects. Two more dying Cruxai reached out for her legs but she deftly avoided them, making her way to the Galdean bridge. The Cruxai had made no attempt to cross it, knowing full well it was rigged to collapse.

  Jankaro’s head slum
ped down over her left side. The warm smell of herbs and flower essences blended with her sweat in a welcome contrast to the screams of pain coming from all over his body. He muttered incoherently as she carried him through the open gate. It rumbled shut behind him and she laid him down on a cart covered with soft bedding.

  “You’re safe now,” she said softly as she tipped up a gourd and the breath of life flowed into his mouth.

  Ixtlayo watched from atop the hill as the horde spread out into the distance. As the light of day loomed, their pace slowed to a trudge and they spread out, leaving weakened stragglers behind. Arrows stuck out from his body and blood trickled from his various wounds. Aside from a single claw that had been pulled clean out of its socket, he still had all his parts. He was thirsty, his breath was ragged and his tongue drooped but he still had a few drops of energy left. Enough for a few more kills.

  He walked up to the last Cruxai in the line and stepped on the pathetic runt, driving his claw through the back of its neck and pushing its face into the mud. He dragged himself forward and executed them one by one. He killed twenty before they started to put up a fight, but the sun was coming up over the horizon and its rays slowed their movements. He killed another twenty before he was confronted by two Jurugas with their long and heavy swords. He had just enough energy to flee, so he turned and ran back toward the giant stone human den.

  After he reached a safe distance, he stood on a hill and watched them retreat. He licked the wounds on his paws and thought of his fallen kin. He wished for an army of 20,000 jaguars and a fresh dose of juzi stick and imagined the massacre that would end the Cruxai forever. The smell of deer meat filled his nostrils and he leapt to his feet. He looked around and saw a man coming up the hill. He was a jungle man that he hadn’t seen for years, since before the mountain people captured him. He was a young man, the son of the old man who visited him in his dreams. He laid the freshly killed carcass down at Ixtlayo’s feet, unslung a jug from his back and offered him water. He offered some kind words of encouragement while he watched him eat. A tranquil feeling came over Ixtlayo and he felt no pain as the man pulled the arrows out and tended to his wounds. He mused at the armor and loosened the straps. Ixtlayo rested for a while, and when he awoke, the man was gone.

  It was late morning and there was work to be done. He returned to the site of the battle to bury his fallen kin. The mountain people collected their arrows and dragged the bodies of the Cruxai over the edge of the ravine. They separated the bodies of the cats and pulled them to the side. He grunted at the mountain people and scratched at the wooden skin they had put on him. It was heavy and moist and he needed them to take it off. They just looked at him with apprehension and kept their distance with their hands close to their blades. Luckily the young woman on the horse was there, and she recognized his need. She gathered some of the other people and they removed the armor. She reached up, patted his face and spoke kindly to him and he saw gratitude in her eyes. He arched his back, stretched, and turned to face his task.

  He selected a small patch of trees a little to the south and dug. Pain jolted through his paws as he sent the earth flying behind him. He grunted with the pain and kept digging. After an hour he had dug enough to fit several of the fallen cats, but there was still much work to be done. He stopped for a moment to stretch and catch his breath. He looked up and met the eyes of a black jaguar, his body scratched and bleeding from the battle. He acknowledged Ixtlayo with a low rumble and set to the task of digging. Ixtlayo was glad for the help and dug his claws into the earth again. As the hours passed, three more jaguars returned one at a time to help, each one looking worse than the last. The last of them was missing an eye and its other eye was nearly swollen shut. Its tail was severed, leaving behind a short stump encrusted with blood. He trembled as he worked, offering what he could.

  When the graves were dug, Ixtlayo returned to the battlefield and picked up the bloodied body of a jaguar in his jaws and carried it back to the gravesite. It was miserable and he tried to ignore his emotions and think about the wind as he carried the broken bodies of his kin. The mountain people soon noticed his plight and took pity on him. They loaded the bodies of the cats into their wagons and carried them to the gravesite. The last four jaguars disappeared before the humans got close. Twenty mountain people worked by his side for the rest of the day to lay the bodies in their graves and cover them with earth. As the sun set, he followed them into their stony den where he rested behind the safety of their walls.

  The Gargantuan

  It was a fitful night of sleep for Jorobai. He kept waking up and looking down to the fire to see what Kiki was up to. He thought for sure she would come and try to kill him, or make a signal for Juitao’s hunters hiding in the forest somewhere. He was able to doze off from time to time because he was so confident in his defenses. As the night crept towards morning he was able to sleep and dreamed that he saw Chesta riding on Gondaro’s back.

  He was amused by the dream when he woke up, but his amusement faded when he smelled smoke in the air. He opened his eyes, sat up and looked down at the fire. He was shocked to see that it was huge, and his raft was burning! He looked for Kiki but she was gone. He raced down the tree and tried to get close to the raft, but there was too much heat. There was nothing he could do; the raft was destroyed. She must have gone back to the village to report to Juitao. He felt like such a fool to trust her at all. He could have let her fall into the trap and die. He could have been firm and sent her away. It was a reminder that he could not trust any of Juitao’s people.

  He thought about moving to a new location and starting over again, now that he had been discovered. But with all his defenses, he felt safe. So he kept his blowgun at his hip and started pulling off the burning logs one by one and dragging them into the water to extinguish the flames. All the while he kept his eyes to the sky. After about an hour, sure enough, there it was, a palika flying above. He wanted to start work on his next raft, but he had a feeling that they were coming and he needed to defend himself. So he checked his traps and headed up the tree to his primary platform. As he climbed, he felt the tree shake. He heard a rumbling sound in the distance. He wondered about it and his mind went to Gondaro, gorged on Jugon Drogon’s flesh, trying in vain to get out of the cave. He reached his platform and looked up to the cave and saw plumes of dust rising up. He wondered if Juitao’s men had made the mistake of disturbing Gondaro.

  He sat on his platform for a few hours, flipping his poison darts. The rumbling continued from time to time, and he pitied the creature, birthed from his mouth, who had come to be his friend. He wished he could have led him out of the cave before it was too late. As he waited he grew hungry. He petitioned his monkey friends for some fruit, but they threw it at him so fast he couldn’t catch any. They all laughed and pointed while he grimaced. He tried to stay vigilant as he imagined Juitao’s men approaching.

  “Go on!” He waved them off and gave the signal for them to keep watch.

  A few minutes later they were all squawking and hooting and leaping through the trees in his direction. He waited and finally saw a band of 10 of Juitao’s finest approaching with their spears and bows.

  “Jorobai!” They called out to him. “We must speak with you!”

  “Don’t come any closer,” he shouted menacingly. “I will kill you all!”

  Ghijo, Juitao’s right hand man, signaled the others to stop, laid his spear down, and took a few steps forward. He turned his palms up. “We did not come to fight. Only to talk to you.”

  “Then why bring 10 men armed with spears and bows?”

  “We must protect ourselves from Gondaro.”

  “Turn around and go back to Fayaya. Leave me in peace and I will leave you in peace. I am leaving the island and I will never return.”

  “Jorobai, you must not leave. We need you to protect us from Gondaro. Juitao says he is getting angry. Everyone can sense it. He is coming for u
s.”

  As he spoke, the island shook again, and they heard sounds that might have been Gondaro straining in the cave. Dust shot out from the entrance.

  “Can you see and hear?! He is very angry! Only you can talk to him! Tell him we will feed him all the fish and palika he wants. We can offer him a sacrifice like we did for Jugon Drogon.”

  “Jorobai, help us,” another one of the men chimed in.

  “Don’t go, we need you,” said another.

  “Go away!” Jorobai screamed with all the force he could muster.

  The rumbling from the cave grew more intense as they yelled at one another from across the distance. They seemed to know they were standing on the edge of his perimeter. Kiki must have told them about his traps.

  “Jorobai,” said Ghijo, “this is your last chance.”

  Jorobai braced himself for the fight. Between his traps and his blowgun, they would all be dead before they could possibly reach him.

  Ghijo made a signal to one of the other men. Jorobai hadn’t paid much attention before, but one of them was holding a torch. Another one dipped an arrow wrapped in cloth into the flame and it caught fire.

  “Last chance,” Ghijo said again.

  Jorobai started to sweat as he watched the arrow fly through the air and stick into a log from his raft next to his tree. Another arrow landed next to it, then another. The flames from the three arrows were helping each other to take hold. He watched as the log started to burn. The smoke drifted up into his eyes and burned them. He felt fear and confusion race through him as this was a strategy he had not prepared for. They were trying to smoke him out, and there was something poisonous in the smoke. He should have known. His father had shown him that hunting technique when he was young. He cursed himself for not preparing for it.