The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  The sun was buried by the morning fog but Jankaro still squinted like it was the first time he had seen daylight. Dizzy and tired, he stepped across the walkway and leaned on the rail. The image of standing on the bodies of dead jaguars and Cruxai entered his mind. “Ah!” He cried in pain and reached up to rub his forehead with his left hand. His injured right arm couldn’t hold the rail and he lost his grip. His hip screamed with the weight of his body and he collapsed on the walkway in front of his door. Pain coursed through his whole body as he clenched his teeth and tried to forget. He tried to think of the good times, catching lizards and playing with Chesta and the other monkeys. But it didn’t help. The pain was all he could feel. He tried to push himself to his feet when he heard someone call his name.

  “Hey,” Janesa spoke softly by his ear. “You’re up. Take my hand, I’ll help you.” She took his left hand and pulled him up. She slung it over her shoulder and helped him back to bed. “You slept all day and all night. We tried to feed you but your teeth were clenched too tight. We gave you some sedative, but it didn’t help much.”

  “I’m in pain,” Jankaro muttered without thinking as his head dropped into the pillow and he brought his hand back up to cover his eyes and rub his forehead.

  “Here,” Janesa brought the jug of water to his lips. “Drink more. I will bring food. You need to eat. You are weak, you lost a lot of blood.” After he swallowed a few times she set the jug aside and walked to the door.

  “Ixtlayo?”

  “He is safe and resting in the arena. He is eating fish and recovering from fifty wounds. I’ll be right back.” She left and the images continued to haunt him. He tried to focus his eyes on the mortar that ran between the stones of his wall as the faces of dying jaguars and Cruxai arose in his mind’s eye.

  Janesa returned. “I brought food.” She set the food down and covered him with a thick blanket. His blood pulsed with her touch and he longed to pull her into the bed. He was too weak to do anything except fall asleep in her arms, but the thought of holding her pleased him. He was too ashamed of his wounds and weakened condition to bring it up to her, and he remembered how she had dismissed him before. So he let her help him back into the bed and was happy to receive her attention.

  “Can you feed yourself?” She asked as she helped him into a seated position and extended the plate to his hands. His stomach rumbled, the smell of salt and citrus compelled him as he hastily pushed the fish, potatoes and steamed greens into his mouth. He could scarcely chew as his body sucked in the energy of the food. “Here’s a fork and napkin if you want. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Jankaro’s heart sank to see her get up to leave. “Wait!” Janesa turned with a questioning look. He looked into her eyes and admired the beauty of her high cheekbones and radiant brown skin. He couldn’t think of anything to make her stay. He knew she had things to do and wouldn’t stay just to lie down and comfort him. “I need more sedative.” It was all he could think of and it was true. He knew he would need it once she left and the memories returned.

  “It’s in the drawer in the small vial. Just one drop at a time. Take too much and you won’t wake up until tomorrow.” The idea didn’t sound so bad, to let his memories of the battle fade and sleep until his wounds were healed.

  “And see this crutch?” She picked up a stick by the door and put it under her arm. It had a curved stick fastened to the top that cradled her armpit. “You can lean on it so you don’t fall. Your wounds are still healing.” Janesa leaned the stick on the wall and turned to go.

  “Where is Anhael?” Jankaro thought he would have seen or heard from the master healer, his friend and mentor, by now.

  A troubled expression came over Janesa’s face. She pulled her lips in tight and he sensed she was holding back anger. “I’ll tell you later.”

  A flash of pain erupted in Jankaro’s head when she left him alone. He furiously ate the entire plate of food, flung open the drawer and fumbled for the vial of sedative.

  The day passed in a haze as Jankaro slept and rested in his bed. He would awake to find food and water sweetened with citrus waiting for him. He ate and drank and gazed at the ceiling. In his more lucid moments he thought about the good old days. He remembered playing in the dirt with Kiara next to her hut. On one of her good days she would draw in the sand with her fingers, making pictures of people holding hands and offering him one of her rare smiles. When a big snake wandered too close to the hut, he took her by the hand, led her inside and chased away the snake. “Don’t worry, it’s gone now.” He remembered her smile the last time he saw her, when he gave her the purple flowers. She held on to things. They might still be there on her wall, dried out by the years that had passed. He wondered if he killed all the Cruxai, would she speak again? The images and the headaches returned. He reached for the vial of sedative and took another drop.

  When evening came, he felt the need to rise. He thought he saw a toucan sitting by the bed but it was just the jug of water next to a piece of fruit. He wobbled when he stood and took the crutch. He reached for the door and his arm was weak. The sedative hid the pain from his wounded shoulder. He fumbled out the door and the heavy fog caressed his face. The cool night air was a refreshing contrast from his stuffy apartment. He saw many blurred lights in the front courtyard. The stairs were slick and he nearly fell on his way down. He thought of going to see Ixtlayo but sensed the great beast could use some more time to rest. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t see much as he slowly trudged forward.

  He arrived at the front courtyard and all the soldiers were gathered, clad in fresh uniforms. Many wore bandages and splints. Others leaned on crutches like Jankaro. One man was lying on his back on a cart with both legs propped up and bandages up and down his body. Another soldier with bandages over one eye clapped Jankaro on the shoulder.

  “You and the Ashtari fought bravely. If it wasn’t for you…” He trailed off and returned his gaze to the fires that burned away the fog. The arrowhead in Jankaro’s heart lurched in pain as he realized that the fifty fires that he watched burn were funeral pyres for the soldiers they lost in the battle.

  The pyres were arranged in a semicircle before the front wall, spaced about twenty feet apart from each other. In the middle, one fire was elevated and burned brighter than the rest. A podium stood in front of it. Titus’ head was bandaged and he winced in pain as he slowly climbed the steps onto the podium. Orion crawled up the steps behind him, dragging a pair of crutches. His wooden leg was gone. His face was stricken with grief as he pulled himself to standing and leaned on his crutches.

  “We won,” said Titus in a voice barely audible to the soldiers standing in the back. “We beat back the Cruxai again.” His voice grew louder. “Two times they have sacked Caladon, and two times they have fallen!” He made a fist as he roared the last phrase. The soldiers cried out and raised their fists. Something ominous rumbled inside Jankaro as the ache of the arrowhead in his heart screamed through the haze of the sedative. The question crossed his mind: where was Rafael? The answer was painfully apparent as the flames from the tall fire behind Titus cut through the evening fog.

  “Sadly, my fellow soldiers, as you can see we suffered great losses. Fifty of Galdea’s bravest died two nights ago. We honor their spirits and their courage forever. May they be blessed on their journey to the other side. Their names will be chiseled into Oranos’ wall, along with all the other brave souls who gave their lives to save Galdea from our enemies.” He drew in a breath. The fires crackled as silence fell over the crowd. “Among those who were lost…” Titus choked on his words and paused to still the quivering in his face. “Among those who fell in the battle was our courageous commander, my brother Rafael.”

  Tears welled up in Jankaro’s eyes as Titus spoke about the merits of his brother and how he looked up to him. He led the men with confidence and grace. He playfully engaged Jankaro in a swordfight when they first met, and a
lways treated him with respect. He was a far greater man than his younger brother, and no one knew it better than Jankaro.

  “I will honor my brother by carrying this war all the way to victory. He believed we would defeat them someday. We must honor him, and all our dead, by winning this war.”

  Titus completed his speech, the fires dwindled, and the crowd dispersed. Many soldiers approached Jankaro and acknowledged him and Ixtlayo for their role in the victory. Rafael’s face lingered in his mind as he watched the civilians tend to the dying fires. Several soldiers and civilians lingered close to the fires of those who held a special place in their hearts. Jankaro’s wounds were aching and he needed to lie down. The images of the broken battlefield came into his mind and the void Rafael had left rendered him into a state of total pain. He collapsed and drooled on the stone as his whole self cried out in pain.

  “Help him,” he heard Orion utter through his own pain. His head hung down and someone helped him back to his apartment. He collapsed in his bed and squeezed a drop of the sedative. As the drop hit his tongue the flavor reminded him of flowers he smelled on one of his last days in Olaya. It was Lintai, the same purple flower that he had given to Kiara. The one that Rongo told him was good for bad dreams. An image of the flower in full bloom dominated the view from his mind’s eye as his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning he was sick of being in bed. He got up and cursed when he realized he couldn’t walk without the crutch. He hobbled over to the arena, passing morose soldiers and civilians along the way. Only a few practiced with their weapons. He hobbled around them, only to find that Ixtlayo was gone. A pile of fishbones was the only trace of him. His yanigo armor had been mended and sat folded in the corner. Jankaro thought of going outside to find him but he was still hobbling. He turned to leave the arena, not knowing where to go. He thought he might pay a visit to Anhael and find out why Janesa was upset.

  “Ow that hurts!” One of the combatants hollered over to his right. “Stop!”

  Jankaro looked over and saw a young man on the ground holding his hands up while another young man beat on him with a large stick. Two soldiers were too distracted with their sparring to do anything about it.

  Jankaro limped over with what little speed he could muster and blocked the staff with his crutch. “Stop!” He yelled. He cracked the young man on the leg and sent him sprawling to the ground. He lost his balance and fell on the youth who was taking the beating.

  His hip and shoulder ached as he pressed himself up and off the pale, skinny young man. His eyes were a pale blue and he looked at Jankaro. “I had fish for breakfast and the Ashtari let me stroke his chin.”

  “What?”

  “This guy is an idiot,” said the bigger one with the staff as he rose to his feet. “And so are you. One day I will throw you over the wall and I will ride the Ashtari and kill all the Jurugas and all of Galdea will chant my name and I will choose the most beautiful woman…”

  “Jankaro!” Janesa called out to him.

  She ran over and stepped between Jankaro and the youth as he was about to drive his crutch into his face.

  “Come with me,” she said firmly as she took him by the arm and pulled him away. “Ignore these worthless fools.”

  His hip cried out in pain as she hastened him out of the arena.

  When they made it out, he leaned on his crutch, clutched his hip and winced with pain. “Janesa, what the…”

  “Titus and Orion are soaking in the hot pool. They want you to join them. I’ll lead you there.” She looked at him closely, concern showing on her face. “Need another drop of sedative?”

  “I don’t want any more Lintai!” Jankaro snapped. “I don’t want to lay around in bed all day!”

  “All right!” Janesa jumped back and held up her hands.

  “Sorry,” Jankaro looked into her eyes with an apology, then reached down to rub the tight muscles around his aching wound.

  “How did you know it was Lintai?”

  “I found some purple flowers when I was young and my uncle said they help to calm your dreams.”

  “That’s rare knowledge. Is your uncle a medicine man?”

  “He knew a lot about the jungle. He’s gone now.”

  “Sorry to hear.” She reached up and squeezed his good shoulder. “Come on, let’s walk.”

  “Who are those idiots back there?” The pain receded as he noticed her hair blowing in the wind.

  “Our new soldiers.” Janesa scowled and spat out the words.

  “Them?! You must be joking.”

  “Everyone knows but won’t say anything. Anhael botched the initiation.”

  “No way! How do you know it was his fault?” After all the amazing work he had seen from Anhael, it was hard to believe it could be true.

  “You’ve got to keep this quiet for now…” She stopped, locked eyes with him, and waited until he nodded. They walked again as she took a deep breath. “You remember when we pulled those worms off Ixltayo and Anhael kept some? Ugh, it makes my stomach turn just thinking about it. He says they speak to him and give him ideas.”

  “What kind of ideas?”

  “You should speak to him yourself. They’ve gotten much bigger since you were last here. He wears one around his neck and one wrapped around each arm.”

  “That’s disgusting!” Jankaro shivered and his headache returned as he remembered the giant worms that he hacked apart with his sword as he crawled through the tunnels below Dorfin. “They’re agents of the Cruxai. We need to save him. We need him. He’s too good to fall for this.” A sick feeling came over him as he worried for his friend. “Where are Maximus and Franco? We will need their help.”

  “They’re gone. Anhael sent them on a fool’s errand into the jungle to gather plants that the worms told him to collect for his ‘final strike’ as he has been calling it.”

  “What final strike?”

  “I don’t know. But he asked for an audience with Rafael…” Janesa looked away and her lips tightened. “Now he wants to speak to Titus about his plan.” Janesa stopped and pointed to a door. “They’re in there.”

  Jankaro stewed in silence over the news. He was deeply troubled and didn’t feel like a victory had just been won. His great leader was lost and replaced by his volatile younger brother. His mentor’s mind seemed to have been co-opted by worms. His damaged hip prevented him from mounting his Ashtari.

  “Be careful with Titus,” Janesa warned him. “You know how he is. This is very hard for him. He always counted on his brother and now he is on his own. It’s best not to challenge him for now.”

  “I don’t want to go in there.”

  “Go on now. Don’t leave Orion alone in there. You’re an inspiration to him. He needs you.”

  Jankaro remembered Orion’s humbled face as he crawled onto the platform without his cleverly fashioned leg. “He needs a new leg.”

  “It’s in the works. Go on.” He wished he could alleviate Janesa’s worried expression as she hastened away and he struggled to open the heavy door.

  He walked into a hazy chamber with a large circular heated pool in the center. He could barely make out the two figures seated in the pool through all the steam.

  “Did you send a report to Calixo?” Orion asked.

  “Not yet,” said Titus. “But I’m sure they’ve heard the news by now. My poor mother…” Titus paused as he noticed Jankaro nearing the edge of the pool. “Join us, Jankaro. There is sacrin salt in the water, it will help to heal your wounds.” Jankaro disrobed and lowered himself into the water.

  “The Cruxai came early,” said Titus. “Did you provoke them?”

  “They were mobilizing when I got there.”

  “Why didn’t you come back to warn us?”

  “I tried, but…”

  “But what?!” Titus snapped.

 
“Calm yourself,” Orion extended his hand towards Titus.

  “Ixtlayo was hurt. He carried me to the jungle. I couldn’t control him, and I wouldn’t have made it in time on foot. He summoned his army and we marched back to Caladon together as fast as we could.”

  “You and Ixtlayo and your army of jaguars played a key role in the victory.” Orion looked to Jankaro when he spoke then leaned his head back and solemnly sighed.

  “You showed up too late!” Titus stood and leaned towards Jankaro, pointing his finger at him. “After my brother had already been slain!”

  Orion reached out and touched Titus’ arm. “Jankaro is not to blame. The Cruxai were all over us. We knew what they were going to do and they did it. We never planned for the Ashtari to be Rafael’s personal guard. Having him outside with an army of jaguars was the best thing that could have happened. Jankaro nearly died to save Caladon, and he’s got the scars to prove it. Rafael knew the risks of fighting on the front wall, as do you. There is no one you can blame.”

  Titus showed that he heard the reason in Orion’s words as his eyes softened. The aggression left, but the pain remained. He sat down, reached for a cup sitting at the edge of the pool and took a drink. Then he grabbed a bottle and another cup, poured a dark red liquid into the cup and handed it to Jankaro.

  “Grape wine,” said Orion, “from the vineyards outside of Dorfin. Most likely the Cruxai have destroyed them, but we saved several cases. It is for celebration but can help to wash away the grief. Drink.”

  Jankaro sipped at the wine and noticed a flavor both bitter and sweet. He didn’t care for it much. “It’s an acquired taste.” Orion drank from his own cup.