The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

Titus tipped his cup back and emptied it. He reached for the bottle and filled it up again. “I can’t do this without my brother.” He spoke into the hot water in front of him. “All I know how to do is fight.”

  “You know how to lead,” said Orion. “We’ve all seen you.”

  “In battle, yes, but he had it all. The strategies, the speeches… the heart of every soldier was with him. I can hear the men talking; they think I’m just a hothead who will blunder his way to certain defeat.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. Take it easy on the wine; it’s clouding your logic.”

  “Oh! You of all people! The man who can outdrink anyone from Calixo to Falconcrest! You want to tell me how much I can drink?!”

  “Remember the last war council with your father? He chose your idea and we sent Jankaro to spy. Let’s get back to that.” Orion turned to Jankaro. “What did you see?”

  “Everything was different.” Jankaro felt uncomfortable sitting naked in the pool across from Titus in his volatile state. In the back of his mind he knew that if Titus was provoked and attacked him again, his injuries might prevent him from defending himself. He tried to ignore his misgivings and sipped from his cup of wine. He told them of the scarred land, his difficulty finding the cave, and his encounter with the worms.

  “We never had any worms like that in those tunnels before,” said Orion. “They were clean. Maybe a few small insects but nothing like that. They must be part of the horde.”

  “Maybe those worms are Cruxai infants,” said Titus, “who are yet to take on their adult form.”

  Jankaro told them of the chamber with the large blob and all the feeding tubes.

  “In the hallowed hall of Tarkon,” Orion shook his head and sipped his wine. “What a disgrace.”

  Jankaro continued with his report, and when he got to the part about the converging Jurugas and the one with the Ashtari hide, Titus stopped him. “Rafael knew he was the leader. He said he dreamt of him…”

  “That is the one we must kill,” said Orion. “When they come back, we do everything in our power to make sure he doesn’t make it out alive.” His eyes flashed. “We can end this war when they come back.” He spoke louder as he imagined how it would all play out. “We focus on the Juruga and we know what Ixtlayo can do. If we protect him and clear the way, he can take them out one by one.”

  “They’ll be after him,” said Titus. “After what they saw at the last battle, my guess is they will come with a plan to kill him.”

  Jankaro was disturbed by the thought. His stomach felt queasy and he took another drink.

  Titus poured himself another. “I’ve had enough of strategizing for now. I can’t concentrate any more. Let’s bring in the ladies,” he said with a small smile. He picked up a small flute next to the pool and blew a simple melody.

  Three robed figures entered from a door behind Titus. The women revealed their supple curves as they disrobed and slowly descended into the pool.

  “That’s Jankaro,” said Titus. “He is our bravest warrior and he had a rough fight. Ariel, take care of him.”

  Each woman sat to the side of each of the men and started to caress him on his chest and shoulders. “Ah that feels great.” Titus sighed aloud, sipped from his cup and leaned his head back. “You make me forget the pain.”

  Orion sat upright as the woman caressed him. He had a faraway look in his eyes. “Let’s keep this therapeutic, I’m a married man,” he said softly as he kept his gaze forward and looked off into the distance.

  “I heard about you,” Ariel breathed into Jankaro’s ear, dragging the words out slowly as she caressed his chest. “The jungle man who rides the Ashtari and slays Jurugas.”

  Jankaro was pleased to forget about the images of war and the strategizing as he stole glances at Ariel’s full breasts. He hadn’t seen a naked woman since he watched one of the women of Olaya bathing in the river. “You can touch them, go ahead.” She smiled and positioned herself in front of him, opening her legs and straddling him. Her green mountain eyes sparkled as she took his hands and placed them on her breasts.

  “My hip,” said Jankaro as he reached under her thigh and lifted it to take the pressure off. Her skillful touch and sweet smell aroused him but his hip couldn’t handle her weight.

  Titus and his woman were moaning with pleasure from across the tub. The other woman helped Orion out of the tub and over to his crutches. None of it mattered to Jankaro as Ariel slipped him inside. For a few moments of ecstasy he didn’t care that his rival was across from him, or that a war awaited him. Nothing else mattered but Ariel and the pleasure they were feeling together as she moaned in his ear. She started bouncing up and down on him, gently at first. She leaned on his shoulder and it started to hurt. He ignored it as the pleasure outweighed the pain. He kissed her lips and their tongues danced. In the excitement, she bounced up and came down harder and his hip erupted with pain.

  “Ouch!” He cried. “I need to stop.” Jankaro put his hands on her hips and lifted her off to the side. He put his hand to his hip and tried to rub out the pain. His headache returned.

  Ariel looked at him with a concerned expression on her face and resumed massaging his neck and shoulders. It felt good and her presence was soothing but the moans coming from Titus and the other woman grated on his nerves. He was disturbed that Titus did not have the same respect for Valera that Orion had for his wife. “I need to go.”

  “Jankaro don’t go!” Titus called out in between moans. “Stay and we’ll trade!” Jankaro ignored him as he pulled himself out of the pool.

  Ariel put on her robe and helped Jankaro dry off and get dressed. She handed him his crutch and walked with him to the door. “Do you want me to walk with you back to your apartment?”

  Jankaro thought it would be nice to walk with her but Titus answered for him. “Come on back over here Ariel. He’s a Galdean soldier, he can handle himself.”

  Ariel sauntered over to Titus and the other woman, disrobed and got back in the pool as Jankaro struggled with the heavy door and stepped out on the cold stone pathway.

  The sun was bright and he had to look down. The cool, dry wind contrasted with the heat and moisture of the chamber full of steam. The pain in his hip receded and his loins buzzed with the memory of the encounter. He wanted to get back into the hot water with Ariel and pick up where they left off.

  But not with Titus. On the surface, the man had treated him better since the apology ceremony at the top of the pyramid. Yet Jankaro couldn’t hide the fact, at least from himself, that he hated him. The loss of Rafael brought him grief because he was a good friend and a great leader. It was another loss to suffer the poor leadership of Titus. Someone would have to pick up the slack and he knew there would be more conflict brewing when the war council convened again.

  He stood and watched a few people pass by and thought about whether he should go and see Anhael or reconnect with Ixtlayo. Anhael was a greater concern but he wasn’t feeling quite right in the head after drinking the wine. It was on the heels of all the lintai sedative, and he was tired of having a fuzzy head. He just wanted to be right again. He tried to walk without the crutch but found it very difficult. He cursed his injury, leaned on the crutch and plodded across the front courtyard to a wide open gate.

  “Great fight, Jankaro!” Aramis called down from the top of the wall above the gate. “I saw you fall. If it weren’t for your Ashtari’s lightning reactions, you would be shark food floating on the open sea. You must have nine lives!”

  Jankaro looked up but the sun was right behind Aramis and nearly blinded him. He held his hand up to shield his eyes. His shoulder protested, but less than before. It was healing. “Have you seen Ixtlayo?”

  “He went out before dawn. The scouts have seen him running. He killed and ate a few sheep a couple hours ago. I wish I could hunt like that.”

  Jankaro nodded and hobb
led across the bridge. “Curse this hip,” he muttered to himself. On the other side he stood on the packed earth of the road that led away from Caladon. He looked at the battlefield. All of the bodies and arrows had all been cleaned up. The only trace was in the grass. It was green on the hills all around Caladon but it was trampled and brown and growing sparsely in the area where they had fought. He remembered the fight and all that had occurred, but the images no longer haunted him. He was soothed by the buzzing of the wine and warm thoughts of sex with Ariel. He grieved for the cat army and their sacrifice, and for Rafael and the other soldiers who died. But he felt a renewed determination to win. He knew that with Ixtlayo, all the soldiers who survived, and the strength of Caladon’s walls, they could win.

  But the Cruxai were breeding and their numbers would be renewed. The Galdeans had no new soldiers to fill their ranks as Anhael had botched the initiation. Jankaro rubbed his temples.

  “Over there,” called Aramis. “See that grove of trees with the tall cedar towering over the pines and madrones?” That’s where Ixtlayo buried his army.” Jankaro nodded up to him and thought he might go and pay his respects.

  Jankaro struggled to make his way over the lumpy ground. He couldn’t lift his foot much without hurting his hip. He was cursing his injury again when he saw Ixtlayo loping up and over the hillside. The Ashtari stopped when their eyes met and belted out a roar of recognition. He trotted over to Jankaro and waited for him to mount. In two days he had recovered and looked no worse than when they first met, save for the scar that angled across his broad nose. Jankaro tried to mount but it was too difficult. Ixtlayo offered a sympathetic rumble and lay down as low as he could. Jankaro left the crutch on the ground and crawled up on Ixtlayo’s back. He lifted his leg over to straddle him but his hip cried out in pain. “Curse this rotten hip.” He was so frustrated he wanted to chop his leg off and make one out of wood just like Orion. “Better go slow or you’ll dump me.” He hoped Janesa wouldn’t see him as he draped himself over Ixtlayo’s back, lying on his belly with his legs on one side, his arms on the other, and his face in his fur.

  Ixtlayo set off toward the grove, walking slowly. His fur was warm, but his shoulder blades moved up and down, poking at Jankaro’s injuries. Jankaro slid further down, to the middle of his back and he was more comfortable. His mind was about to drift back to thoughts of hot water, wine and women, but was interrupted by an energetic release from Ixtlayo. He was communicating with Jankaro on a frequency deeper than words. He seemed to say “I’m glad we made it and you are okay.”

  Jankaro snapped back to the present. “They gave us a lot of praise in there. You were amazing. I didn’t trust you but you were right. You won that battle for us. I’m sorry you lost so many of your kin.” He stroked the Ashtari’s fur as he spoke. “It’s good to see you again. You feel strong.”

  Ixtlayo roared his approval. Jankaro craned his neck and watched a condor soar along the southern horizon as Ixtlayo stopped at the grove. He lay down and Jankaro dismounted. He picked up a fallen branch, stripped away the leaves and smaller branches, snapped off the tapered end and used it as a walking stick.

  He saw the overturned earth where the cats were buried. His heart was heavy as he moved forward and knelt by the array of graves. His stomach shook and there was no holding back. His sobs came out loud and his tears flowed down onto the overturned earth while Ixtlayo stood silently and waited. He grieved for the all the jaguars, pumas, and the little kodkod who had licked his face. He grieved for the Galdean soldiers who burned in their funeral pyres. He grieved for Rafael and feared what they would be without him. His stomach churned as he thought of Anhael with the worms draped around his neck and shoulders and he had to fight back the urge to vomit. Ixtlayo grunted, hooked a claw into the back of Jankaro’s shirt and pulled up. He turned and leaned on Ixtlayo’s paw to lift himself to his feet.

  “Victory.” He heard the echo of the jaguar man’s voice in his head and looked into Ixltayo’s eyes. He saw the confidence of the most powerful beast on the earth. He worked through the pain in his shoulder and pulled himself onto Ixtlayo’s back. He spread his legs out and straddled him for the ride back to Caladon, but only lasted a few strides before he had to resume the more comfortable position of lying on his belly.

  When they got back to the gate, Jankaro grimaced as he shifted back to an upright position as Ixtlayo walked through with his head high. “Don’t worry about your image, Jankaro.” Aramis called down from above. “We’re all soldiers here. Wear your scars with pride.” Jankaro looked up and hadn’t noticed the patch over Aramis’s eye. He lifted it to reveal a row of stitches and a blackened area where his eye had been.

  Ixtlayo strode calmly back to the arena and paid no mind to the occasional acknowledgments from the people he passed along the way. When they entered the arena, Janesa held a sparring sword and fought with the two young men whom she had described that morning as victims of Anhael’s botched initiation.

  “Come here, sweet thing,” one called to her. Jankaro knew there was something very wrong when he noticed her hair falling out of its tie and her shirt was ripped open to reveal a scratch along her exposed left breast. She hit them hard and they stumbled back, but kept coming at her. Ixtlayo leapt and pounced on one of them. When he landed, Jankaro lost his balance, slid off and tumbled to the ground. He rolled over and saw Janesa smack the other startled initiate in the jaw with her sparring sword. She knocked him to the ground unconscious, bleeding from his mouth and nose.

  “Damnit!” Janesa smashed her sword on the ground and broke it in half. “I can’t handle these fools! Curse Anhael!”

  Jankaro got on his knees and looked for something to lean on. “What happened?”

  “I’m losing my composure, Jankaro,” she said as she threw down the other half of the wooden sword, pulled her shirt closed and tried to catch her breath. “Rafael’s dead, Anhael has gone crazy, and Maximus and Franco are lost in the jungle on a fool’s errand! And you’re all busted up, along with twenty other soldiers. I have to take care of everything!” She looked up at Ixtlayo. “Don’t tell me you killed him.”

  Ixtlayo lifted his paw and took a step back. The youth was bleeding from puncture wounds in both shoulders but his chest rose and fell with his breath. “Mama, help me,” he muttered as he lay still on his back.

  “Look at this, Jankaro,” she flipped her hand up at the youths in disgust. “Galdea is falling apart. If the Cruxai come again soon, we’re doomed.”

  Ixtlayo roared into the air defiantly as if to say “they’ll have to get through me first.”

  Jankaro didn’t know what to say that could help. He was concerned about her and saw the strain in her widened eyes.

  “I’ll speak with Anhael,” he offered.

  “I’m going to find someone to put some chains on these fools,” she growled, and hastily walked out of the arena.

  “We better wait here and watch them.” Jankaro rubbed his hip, crawled over to one of the incapacitated youths and took his sparring sword to use for a crutch. Ixtlayo pushed the unconscious youth next to the other and growled as he hovered over them.

  When Jankaro finished the climb to Anhael’s door, he was seething with anger over the pain he had caused Janesa. He was out of breath and his hip was hurting. He wanted to bite on a juzi stick and kick the door in. But the door was heavy and locked.

  “Anhael!” He pounded on the door. “It’s Jankaro! I need to talk to you!” He waited and listened. The door unlatched and Anhael appeared.

  His eyes were distant and he looked right through Jankaro. His shirt was off, and as Janesa had described, he wore one worm around each arm and the third around his neck. Their heads lifted to look at Jankaro with eyeless faces. “Welcome back, brave one.” Anhael spread his arms out and stepped forward to embrace Jankaro.

  “Don’t touch me!” Jankaro held up his hand. He felt a deep repulsion toward the worms. �
�We should have thrown those worms into the fire with all the rest! Look at you! You’ve got them wrapped around your neck and arms like pets!”

  “Jankaro why don’t you calm down and…”

  “You botched the initiation! Instead of more soldiers to help us fight the war we’ve got miscreants harassing Janesa and crying for their mamas!”

  “Jankaro.” Anhael spoke calmly. His eyes came into focus as he spoke into Jankaro’s eyes. “I can see you are angry. Come inside and let me explain.”

  Jankaro recognized the lucidity in Anhael’s eyes and speech, but the slow, squirming movements of the overgrown white worms disturbed him to his core. “Okay.” He grimaced and hobbled into Anhael’s candlelit chamber. Anhael closed and locked the door behind him.

  The chamber was dark but the back wall was illuminated by dozens of candles arranged on a low rectangular table covered with a collection of Anhael’s stones, feathers, herb smudges and other sacred objects. Above the altar, the wall was painted with a monstrous face. It had black skin, yellow eyes and large fangs. It stretched from the bottom of the altar up to the ceiling. Jankaro looked into its eyes and trembled with fear. The image seemed be alive as it looked back at him.

  “It can be very frightening to look at him,” said Anhael as he gestured at the painting. “But with time, I have gained strength. My spirit guides,” he nodded to the three worms, “have given me the courage to face him.”

  “Anhael, you’ve gone mad.” Jankaro feared for the sanity of his friend and was stricken with grief by the thought that if he kept up this madness, he might have to kill him.

  Jankaro continued to stare at the disturbing painting with disgust when Anhael stood in front of him, stared into his eyes and spoke slowly, dragging out every word. “Jankaro. Will you let me explain?”

  Jankaro leaned on his crutch and watched Anhael skeptically.

  “Have a seat.” Anhael gestured to the table in the center of the chamber. Jankaro was tired and hurting so he obliged.