The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  He imagined people gathered together, singing songs and keeping each other warm by the fire. He imagined his son to one side and his wife to the other. He imagined Rongo across the way with his wife and children and their parents too. He imagined all the people of Olaya gathered in sacred ceremony to honor their ancestors and Sagaya and the other spirits of the jungle that brought and sustained life. All was well as long as he kept his eyes closed he could see his whole tribe all around him, just the way they had looked on that night before the initiatory hunt, before the monsters came and massacred them. He could smell the smudge as his father waved the smoke all over his body with his feather fan.

  “Have courage, son.”

  He heard his father’s voice and quickly opened his eyes, but there was no one there. He suddenly felt threatened, stood up and looked around. He expected men with spears to jump out and grab him, but there was nothing except the patter of the rain on the leaves. He gripped his knife so tightly that his forearm ached. He took a breath and calmed himself. He touched the fireplace, and spoke a prayer of gratitude and a blessing for his quest. Then he made his way back down to rest with Gondaro, accompanied by the chatter and musings of the monkeys in the trees.

  Gondaro slept through half the day. A storm came through and the thunder wouldn’t let Jorobai rest. He soaked up the rain and cold as he walked along the beach. He figured after an hour’s walk he would be around the island and ready to sleep next to Gondaro again. He looked out into the water and saw something floating. First it was a clump of seaweed, then a crocodile. But he looked closer and it was a human, a dead body floating in the water. He waded out into the water but couldn’t reach it before the current carried it away. Another body was coming at him and he waited for it. When it reached him, it stank profusely. He held his breath and flipped it over. It was the bloated body of a monstrous creature. The face was mutilated but it was clearly not human. Scales covered its body and it had a reptilian look. He shuddered as he pushed it away. He looked around and saw more. There were many dead bodies floating by. Most of them appeared to be of the same variety that he found lying around his village so many years back. It must mean someone fought and killed them. Some had arrows sticking out of their rotting flesh. Some of them were men. He looked closely just to verify, and it was true, a ghastly truth. There were men floating among the bodies. He retreated to the beach to get himself out of the foul smelling water. Thousands drifted by. Severed limbs and corpses floated to shore. Some of them carried weapons he could use, but he had had enough of touching them. Oddly, some of the mongrels wore the same blue armor as the humans. He wondered if there were humans commanding these monsters. If so, he resolved to kill them.

  Around sunset, Gondaro woke and stood. He looked at the stream of bodies that continued to float by and land on the island, and he was visibly disturbed. His brow furrowed and he growled at the water. He scraped the beach clean with a few strokes of his paw, sending the corpses floating on their way. He went to the other side of the island and splashed in the water to rinse off his paws. He settled back down to rest, unwilling to swim in the rotten death that surrounded the island. The palika flew over the bodies, observing them with curiosity, but did not pick at their flesh.

  Gondaro slept through some of the night, but paced the small island for much of it. Jorobai dozed off a few times but couldn’t shake the disturbed feeling that hung over him as the images of the rotting corpses hung in his mind.

  When dawn arrived, Jorobai rubbed his eyes. He stood up, stretched his aching muscles and walked to the beach. The bodies were still floating by, but less frequently. Gondaro continued pawing them away from the shore and rinsing his paws on the other side. Jorobai walked along the beach, but kept his gaze fixed on the trees and the island. He tried to think about the flowers and the monkeys. He averted his eyes from the palika; they brought back bad memories. He cringed whenever he saw Gondaro swat them and eat them.

  As he came around the north side of the island, he noticed more artifacts. Tall carvings of men with spears marked both sides of a cave. He had mixed feelings about the cave as he approached. It seemed caves brought only grief into his life. But he had a good feeling about the island and the stone formation at the top of the hill, so he decided to investigate. As he reached the mouth of the cave, he heard someone humming inside. A jolt of alarm sounded within him as his body stiffened. He stood still and listened to the melody, at one point thinking that he heard his name. His knife was ready as he stepped inside. He walked toward the sound until he saw a faint white glow ahead. The air was cold, but the glow offered warmth. He squinted in the darkness and saw a human form. He thought it might be best to simply turn around and face this person in the light of day with Gondaro by his side, but the melody drew him forward. He was surprised to notice that his heart was softened by the sound.

  There was a soft, glowing white aura around the singer that made him seem like a ghost. He waved his hands around as if conducting the melody.

  “Jorobai,” he sang, and this time it was very clear.

  “Who are you?” Jorobai continued forward and squinted at the man. He was shocked to see the catlike features of his face. It was a man with the head of a jaguar.

  “I am Orlando. I work with Ishikaya in the spirit world.”

  Jorobai gasped. He was speechless.

  “Your son is alive and well.”

  “What?!” Jorobai put his knife into his belt. “Tell me everything! Where is he?!”

  “The Ashtari will carry you to him. He knows where to go. You see the bodies floating by on the water? They are the Cruxai. Your son is fighting them with the Galdean army. Like you, he rides an Ashtari.” Jorobai’s heart soared. He wondered if it could be true.

  “The war is nearly over, and the Cruxai have nearly won. But you can bring hope. Gondaro is very powerful now. The people are in dire need of his strength.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Go with Gondaro. Be prepared to fight with all of your courage and strength. Be prepared to give your life.”

  The jaguar man lit his pipe and blew out a bitter smoke.

  “I want to give you the blessing that I gave your son. May I take your head in my hands?”

  Jorobai felt like he trusted him, but he had been fooled before. “What is my son’s name?”

  “His name is Jankaro of Olaya.”

  When Jorobai relaxed, Orlando put his hand to his head and directed it down. He blew the smoke over the top of his head.

  “Victory,” he whispered as the smoke cascaded all over Jorobai’s head and shoulders.

  When Jorobai lifted his head up, he looked into the jaguar man’s eyes. In the briefest flash he saw Jankaro’s eyes and felt that he was with him. He choked up and couldn’t contain his sobs.

  “My son!” He reached out and embraced the jaguar man.

  Orlando gently pushed Jorobai back and turned away.

  “Your Ashtari is ready to swim. You must go. And I must go as well. Have courage Jorobai.”

  Jorobai was curious about Orlando, but knew he could not follow him.

  When he got back outside, the fresh air never smelled so sweet. He looked out on the water and it was calm. The corpses had passed. The rain had passed and the sun shone through broken clouds. Gondaro emitted a rumbling grunt and knelt down for Jorobai to mount. His arms grasped at Gondaro’s fur but he felt like he floated up to his place on the Ashtari’s head. There was a certain focus they both shared. Everything was in alignment. When Gondaro swam out into the water, Jorobai knew in the deepest part of himself that they were headed straight for Jankaro. He was ready to do whatever it took to help his son and make it safe for him to return home to Olaya once again.

  A New

  Commander

  Janesa arrived an hour later, accompanied by Maximus, Franco and five soldiers. Jankaro was trying and failing to fashion a wooden foot fo
r Ixtlayo when they arrived.

  “You made it!” he said as he embraced her. “Did you see Orion?”

  “No one saw much of anything. We made it to the tunnels as fast as we could. We were headed for the boats but we picked up your trail. It was easy to see he was hurt.”

  “He lost a foot to something in the water. Anhael came and doctored him.”

  “Anhael? Where did he go?” She turned her head side to side and smelled the air.

  “He left an hour ago.”

  “Can he walk?” She gestured at Ixtlayo. “Ixtlayo, can you walk?”

  He tipped his head up and looked at her. He didn’t look interested in getting up.

  “Anhael says we shouldn’t give him too much juzi stick.”

  “We’re not safe here, it’s too close to Caladon. Scouts will come. We need to get him to the boats one way or another.”

  “Maybe just a tiny bit. We should get his armor off.”

  Jankaro bade the soldiers to help and they worked solemnly together, removing the supply bags and weapons from his body. They unbuckled and cut away the armor. His breath deepened as his ribs were able to rise and fall freely.

  They gave him a human dose of juzi stick, and with Jankaro’s coaching, Ixtlayo stood. He could barely walk. Janesa led the way as they labored through the jungle in silence. Defeat shone in everyone’s eyes. Ixtlayo was defeated. Janesa was defeated. They were just going through the motions. If Anhael and Janesa had not come to help, Jankaro would likely have been unable to heal Ixtlayo. The Cruxai would have come and killed them both.

  After two hours of slow and laborious marching, they arrived at the beach. Ixtlayo wobbled and lay back down.

  “He has lost a lot of blood,” Janesa said as Jankaro helped her give him more breath of life. “It must have been one of those saltwater sharks that got to him. They hunt for the freshwater fish by the mouth of the river. Normally they wouldn’t attack something big like him, but they must have smelled the blood of his other wounds and sensed he was vulnerable. It’s too bad you didn’t know about the crossing. There is a place where the water is shallow, about 100 feet inland from where you crossed. He wouldn’t have had to swim.”

  “I hope someone will help me make a wooden foot for him.”

  “I will help you,” she said as she put the gourd away, looking intently into his eyes.

  “Me too,” said Franco softly.

  “And I,” said Maximus.

  Jankaro’s heart warmed but the smile wouldn’t form. The dread they all shared hung over him. The war was lost. Even if he escaped into the jungle and left them behind, the Cruxai would take Calixo and proceed to decimate the jungle one village at a time. He would fight them until he met his own death and hold to the flicker of hope that Anhael could deliver a miracle.

  It took quite a bit of coaxing to get Ixtlayo on the boat. Janesa took a pull from a bottle and sprayed the scented liquid into his face. It seemed to perk him up a little bit.

  “It’s for his pain; it might help him get some rest on the boat.”

  Jankaro looked out at the water as archers fired on any sharks that came near. The boat rocked from side to side as it sailed south toward Calixo. With a great struggle, he freed himself from his armor. His back was sore from falling off Ixtlayo at the bottom of the cliff. His head ached and his stomach churned. The boat kept rocking back and forth and he vomited over the side. He slumped down and leaned back on Ixtlayo, closing his eyes to blot out the glare of the sun.

  “Take some of this,” said Janesa, offering him a bottle to drink.

  “What is it?” It made him nauseous to speak.

  “Nothing fancy, just breath of life. You could use some. You’re getting dehydrated.”

  She handed him the bottle and he drank. The bottle was heavy in his hands so he passed it back. Janesa leaned back on Ixtlayo, next to Jankaro, and they both fell asleep. Jankaro slept fitfully, waking every few minutes feeling nauseous. Janesa’s head rested heavily on his shoulder as she slept peacefully. Every time he thought about the battle or the war, he felt nauseous and had to fight back the urge to lean over the side again. He couldn’t believe how peaceful she looked resting there next to him, enjoying her sleep. Maximus and Franco helped the boatman with the sails. Deep down inside Jankaro wished he could stand up and greet the open water with the same sense of wonder he always had for the jungle. He knew there must be some big colorful fish down beneath the surface of the salty water. What great beasts were swimming further out? The sea was so wide he could not see the other side and he figured it must carry creatures greater than Ashtari. It made him shudder to think of it. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe calmly as he drifted in and out of sleep.

  “Jankaro,” Janesa shook his arm and he awoke. “Look.” She pointed out at the water. “See the other boats?”

  The sun’s glare hit the water and nearly blinded him, but he squinted his eyes and held his hand up for shade. Twelve boats came into view. They were each packed with about twenty people.

  “Most of the survivors are here with us. One hundred twenty soldiers and about the same number of civilians. As you can see, most of the soldiers who survived were under your command. More may have escaped, but… only time will tell.” He scanned the boats, looking for Orion. “He’s there. Do you see him?” Janesa pointed and Jankaro saw the black beard of his large friend.

  Even from a distance, his despair was palpable. Dark circles hung below his eyes as he gazed dejectedly into the distance. He looked numb and defeated. His leg was missing again. Someone handed him a pipe and he smoked, grimacing as he pulled it in. Most of the men in the other boats were smoking. It smelled like the same herb that Titus smoked at the last war council meeting. Jankaro figured it was something to take away the pain.

  It didn’t seem to be helping Orion much. He coughed and continued staring into the distance. Jankaro wanted to call out to greet him, but he felt too weak to lift his arm. He remembered the conflict with Titus. He was ordered to fight and he chose to run. How would Orion and the other soldiers react to his decision? The nausea rose up and he leaned over the edge to vomit. Small fish nibbled at the chunks of food deposited in the water. He looked up and met Orion’s eyes from a distance. He wondered how Orion felt about him, but all he could see was the vast pool of pain, suffering and defeat in the man’s eyes. He leaned over the edge and vomited again. He wiped his mouth and slumped back down next to Janesa.

  “Drink more.” She handed him the bottle of breath of life. He swallowed three times and lay his head on her shoulder to rest. He started to drift into sleep, comforted by her presence. Through the pain, he felt the excitement in his body that was generated by being next to her. Without a thought he impulsively lifted his hand and caressed her cheek. He slid it down in a soft caress along her neck, then found her breast, cupped it and squeezed. Janesa coughed and abruptly stood, leaving Jankaro to fall on his side into the space where she once sat.

  They pulled into the docks at Calixo as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Jankaro got his feet on solid ground again, but his head continued to spin. Janesa led Ixtlayo out of the boat. When he stepped off, the weight shifted, sending Maximus, Franco and the captain tumbling to the deck.

  Ixtlayo looked miserable. His eyes were sunken and cast down.

  “Where will he stay?” Jankaro asked Janesa.

  “Probably the arena. I’ll work on that. Can you stay with him for now?”

  Jankaro nodded and she walked away. He watched the soldiers getting off the boats. Some of them scowled at him with scorn in their eyes, but most of them stared absently ahead. They always knew they could fall back on Caladon, and now it was gone.

  Orion approached on his crutches. His wooden leg was gone again. His eyes bore into Jankaro.

  “You disobeyed your orders and left us up there to die,” he growled.

  Jankaro t
ried to shake off the nausea. “See all the soldiers who survived?” He gestured at the soldiers getting off the boats. “If I had followed Titus, none of us would be here. We would all be dead.”

  “We had a chance to defeat him, but you ran away.” Orion pushed his finger into Jankaro’s chest. “Now my men are dead.”

  “Did you ever stop to think about it? So we ride out and try to kill it… that thing would have crushed us before we got close.”

  Orion looked up at Calixo, his eyes cast over the walls and out over the distant sky.

  “Maybe you’re right and we all would have died. But what you did… that was dishonorable cowardice. I doubt the king will forgive your treason.”

  Jankaro looked back at Ixtlayo resting on the dirt, then back at Orion. “I’ll live with my choice. Titus was a fool. He should have listened to me. He could have pulled the troops off the wall and more of us could have gotten out.”

  “And then what? Wait here for that giant to kill us in a city that has a fraction of Caladon’s defenses?”

  “It wasn’t a bad idea,” Jankaro was feeling his strength return, and the idea dawned on him that he was more apt to lead than Orion or Titus. “We need to bring it down and kill it before we can have a chance against the rest of the hoard. But we will need a master plan to be successful. We would have a better chance if we still had our full force.”

  “You think we can win?! You’ve gone mad. But you’re right to be thinking that way. I’ll be damned if I don’t give it all the fight I’ve got left, and take all the Cruxai I can down with me.”