by Sam Puma
“We’ll come up with something.” Jankaro reached his hand out and placed it on Orion’s shoulder. He thought of Anhael brewing up a strategy out in the jungle somewhere and dared to hope that there was a chance for victory. In the back of his mind, the eyes of the jaguar man flashed, and he stood firmly in his resolve that he would fight to win.
“You lost your leg again. How did you get out of there? I thought you were surely gone.”
“When the giant swung his club, Titus had no time to react. He and all the men on the northern end of the wall were smashed. Some of us on the southern end had a moment to react. I ducked, and the club swept over my head. The gate was smashed and I looked up and saw…” Orion looked down to the empty space where his leg would be. “Bodies were everywhere.” His eyes shone with horror as they met Jankaro’s. “A few of us made it down from the wall. We retreated and fought our way to the tunnels. We sealed the tunnels behind us and made it out.”
Jankaro could see the shame in his eyes. He hated to run.
“Oranos will want to know everything. Go and rest. You will be summoned. I need to see my family.”
Orion left on his crutches and Jankaro offered another gourd of breath of life to Ixtlayo. He could scarcely walk and the pain, frustration and humiliation showed. He was dependent on the humans and sequestered in a foreign land. Jankaro resolved to stay by his side. He sat down, leaned back on the Ashtari and looked out over the vast waters, wondering what creatures lurked in the depths.
Jankaro was disappointed that it was Franco and not Janesa who returned to lead him to where Ixtlayo would rest. Ixtlayo limped through the city streets while the people who had never seen him before retreated into the buildings.
“Have you been to Calixo before?” Franco asked.
“I spent some time in the lower part of the city,” said Jankaro. He noticed the more elaborate architecture of the walled upper section.
“It’s a good thing we’re up here. I heard things could get ugly with the common folk once they hear what happened.”
“Common folk? What does that mean?”
“Things are different here in Calixo. Caladon is more egalitarian but Calixo is stratified. The common folk are down there,” he nodded to the wall and the bulk of the city to the north. “The soldiers and aristocrats live up here, where everything is nicer and safer. It’s a much more pleasant experience being up here. Not so dirty.
“Now that you’re on the war council, you get to stay in the castle.” Franco pointed to the castle to the left of them.
“People are divided here,” said Jankaro as he remembered the day that he delivered Rafael’s sword, and was gifted one of his own. His heart ached for his fallen friend. He remembered a fascination with the castle, and how he sensed that he would find the crown there. He thought about the giant snake and his fear was gone; he had no interest in her any more. It was just a bad memory. He wasn’t interested in the crown or exploring the luxuries of the castle. He just wanted to defeat the Cruxai and go home. Or be killed in battle and join his mother and other relatives in the spirit world.
He started to think about his father and how to find him. Ixtlayo could help if they could fix his foot.
“Altamont,” he muttered.
“Who?” Franco asked.
“The blacksmith. He can help make Ixtlayo a new foot.”
“Like I said, I would be happy to help.” Franco stopped at the arched gateway that led into the arena. “See up there, Ixtlayo?” He reached up to pat Ixtlayo on the shoulder as he pointed to a portrait of a charging Ashtari carved into the stone wall of Calixo’s arena. It was circular and much like the arena in Caladon, but the stone carvings of Ashtari - and other large beasts of myth - made it stand out. Unlike the varied sizes of rounded stones that made Caladon’s arena, those of Calixo were uniformly cut and polished smooth. Ixtlayo grunted softly, indicating he was only interested in lying down to rest.
“You’ve got the place to yourself big guy,” said Franco to Ixtlayo. “Come on in.”
Franco showed them to a sheltered area connected to the arena by a large tunnel. It was much like his accommodation in Caladon. Lit torches hung from the walls. Ixtlayo made his way to a pile of fish and ate.
“Janesa is setting up a rotation. We’ll tend to all his needs. Come with me, and I’ll show you to your quarters in the castle. I’m sure you will find it more comfortable than anything you’ve ever experienced.”
“The only thing that will comfort me is victory.”
“Oh… right. Absolutely. I feel the same way. But I will show you to your quarters just the same.”
“I will stay here tonight. Just want to be here while he adjusts to this place.”
“Uh… okay. I’ll bring you something soft to sleep on. And a chamber pot. And a meal. You want chicken, lamb or fish?”
Jankaro wasn’t in the mood for such a question. He just wanted Franco to leave.
“Chicken,” he grunted. As the young man walked away, Jankaro wondered why he felt angry with him. He quickly realized it wasn’t him; he was angry with the Cruxai and Agustin, and disgusted by the opulence of a world he didn’t want to understand. He hated all the walls. They seemed to be only good for one thing: keeping the Cruxai out. Here in Calixo, they used walls to keep people from each other. He preferred the company of the Ashtari. He watched as Ixltayo devoured the last of the fish, washed it down with a few gulps of water, and lay down to rest his aching bones. As the twilight faded, he felt a chill come over him like he was covered in the serpent’s slime again. There was a hearth built into the wall and he built a fire from a pile of wood next to it. He hated the memory of being covered by the serpent’s slime. Yet when he thought of how it made him invisible, it didn’t seem quite so bad.
Jankaro awoke the next morning to soothing words from Janesa. His back was stiff as he pushed himself up to a seated position and rubbed his eyes. He looked over to see that the soothing words were not for him, but for Ixtlayo. The Ashtari’s face bore a saddened expression as she finished removing the bandages from his back paws. “His rear paws are not too bad. I will work on his front paw today. He might need some surgery to reattach the claws that came loose,” said Janesa.
Jankaro cringed and pushed himself to his feet. His hip ached again.
“I will change the bandage on his stump and clean that up too. I’m sure Anhael did a good job on it, but…” said Janesa.
“We need to make him a new foot.”
“Yes.”
“Jankaro,” said another voice. Maximus was standing in the entrance to the chamber the whole time. “The king summons you.”
“Show him to his chamber first,” said Janesa. “He needs to get cleaned up before he goes before the king and queen.”
“I’ll be back when I’m done,” said Jankaro as he followed Maximus out of the arena to the castle.
“I hate Calixo. I can’t tolerate the aristocrats and their petty needs. It’s a horrible place to die,” said Maximus.
Jankaro felt more at home with Maximus’ honesty than Franco’s pleasantries.
“Now that you’re an officer you get a bigger chamber with a bigger, softer bed. Isn’t that great? You get to die in comfort.”
“It means nothing to me. I’d rather sleep in Ixtlayo’s den.”
“Win or lose, I’m slipping out to the jungle when this thing is done. I’m not going to die by a Cruxai sword. Anhael showed me how to find him.”
“How?”
“He said walk seven days north, straight into the jungle, then fire an arrow rubbed with a special powder.”
“What if you lose the powder?”
“He showed me which plants and how to make the powder. They grow in the area seven days to the north. You can come too, if you don’t die fighting.”
“The Cruxai will come for us. The giant will trample every
village.”
“That’s when we’ll stick a poisoned shaft through his foot!” Maximus said with a knowing smile as he led him through the castle halls.
“Hey!” Jankaro’s eyes lit up. “We should do that at the next battle when they come here!”
“Remember that he is buffered by an army of Cruxai. It will be impossible to get close to him.”
“We will have to rig some traps in places where only he can step.”
“Such as rooftops… it’s a longshot but worth a try. We still have some of the plants that Anhael told us to harvest. I’m not sure I want to mess with that stuff again…”
“Are you worried about getting another rash?”
“You don’t know the half of it. I had to spend half my time in the privy for two solid weeks. I’ll talk to Janesa and any other healers we can find. But we need Anhael.”
“I don’t think he will be back. But he said he is trying to come up with something. Maybe he will make the poison himself and find a way to use it.”
“Well we can’t spend too much energy speculating about what Anhael is up to.” Maximus led him down a wide hall, stopped at a thick wooden door and pushed it open. “Here it is. Enjoy the luxury while it lasts. The king is waiting up the stairs. Through the big door.”
“Thanks.” The door shut behind Jankaro. He looked at the enormous bed piled with pillows and saw a new uniform folded neatly on it. Gold strips ran down the seams. Triangle and diamond shaped patterns of red, yellow and white lined the collar and the cuffs. It was similar to the uniform Titus had worn. An anxious feeling came over him and he went to the far door that opened on the balcony. He stepped out and felt the cool morning breeze on his face. He looked out over the city and the fields beyond, the jungle far in the distance, and the hill outside the city where the giant snake had first left him. A macaw flew past his face, and he excitedly turned to his right to follow its flight and see the red, blue and yellow colors of its beautiful feathers. It landed on a balcony fifty feet to his right. He watched as it perched next to Valera, who greeted it with a smile, soft words, a pat on the head, and a nibble of food. Her red dress matched the bird’s feathers, with blue and yellow highlights around her breast. Her hair was pinned up and curls dangled around her face.
She turned to Jankaro when she noticed him. Their eyes met and he felt a swirl of emotions. He was elated and drawn to her, but Titus’ death flooded his mind. Her eyes were kind as she waved to him. He waved and she turned back to her bird. She spoke to it briefly and headed back inside the castle. Jankaro was mystified by her, but reminded himself that he needed to report to the king. His stomach tied up in knots as he found the washroom, bathed himself and put on his new uniform.
The warm water relaxed Jankaro’s tightened muscles, and his skin welcomed the soft and clean new uniform. But as he made his way down the hall and up the stairs, the knot in his stomach gripped tight and would not let go. When he saw the painting of a ram smashing its head through a brick wall, the arrowhead in his heart tightened up. He arrived at the large wooden double doors, his whole body flushed with warmth; beads of sweat formed on his brow. It was time to face the king.
He entered the large chamber and found the king sitting by a large fireplace in a cushioned chair. His eyes narrowed as Jankaro entered.
“Come,” he beckoned with his hand. A slender woman with a crown on her head sat next to him. Her face was pale and she looked ill. Orion was there by the king’s side, speaking quietly to him, but stopped abruptly when Jankaro entered. Valera sat next to Orion, listening intently. Another beautiful woman with long straightened dark hair and a long, flowing blue dress sat on the floor playing with two young children and their toys. He figured it was Rafael’s widow. The grief hung thick in the air. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other.
“Kneel and kiss the hand of Gloria, my wife and your queen,” Oranos said flatly.
Jankaro knelt and kissed her hand. “My queen,” he croaked through a giant lump in his throat. He stood and stepped back, facing Oranos.
“This is Elena, Rafael’s widow.” Oranos gestured at the woman seated on the floor with the children. “And their children, Eric and Rosa. You may leave us now, dear. Help the queen to her chamber. The war council must convene.”
He gazed at the far wall as Elena stood and escorted the queen from the chamber, her children following. The queen was slow to rise and it took several moments for them to leave. All the while a pregnant silence presided.
Oranos turned to Valera. “You wish to stay with us?”
“Yes.” She nodded calmly as the door shut and the four of them were alone together.
Oranos rose to his feet and faced Jankaro. He removed the crown from his head. “You disobeyed my son’s orders.” His eyes rose to meet Jankaro’s and his scorn bore directly into him. “Now my son is dead!” He shouted as he swung the crown of petrified wood and struck Jankaro across his cheekbone. Jankaro reeled sideways and took one step to catch himself. His vision clouded and his face exploded with pain.
“That is for insubordination,” Oranos growled. “If my father were alive, he would have you killed. Sit!” He pointed at the cushioned chair behind him.
Jankaro was stunned from the blow, and his tongue was still caught in his throat. He sat down and checked his fingers for blood but there was none. The king placed the crown on his head and sat back down. “Fortunately for you,” he spoke more calmly, “I am a man of reason. Orion explained everything on your behalf. There was likely nothing that could have been done.”
Jankaro looked up at Orion and saw the softness of their friendship had completely returned to his eyes. He looked at Valera and there was no anger in her eyes, only compassion for him and the bruise forming on his face. He looked back at Oranos and saw that he was still stricken with grief, but the anger had faded.
“I lost my sons, and I have lost hope.” The king paused and straightened in his chair. “But I am a warrior. I will not concede victory to Agustin. This time I will fight the Cruxai by your side and we will die fighting. The women and children and a few men will board the boats at the back of the city. If Calixo falls, they will sail to an island and start a new life.
“One of you must assume command. Orion is next in line, but it is his wish that you assume command.”
“Me?” Jankaro’s jaw dropped in shock. “The soldiers don’t want to follow me. They think I am a coward.” He looked to Orion, questioning.
“They will follow you,” said Orion. “Oranos and I will see to that. The key is the Ashtari. You must ride him through the city. Put him on display, ride him through the city streets and inspire courage in the hearts of every man and woman who can fight. With him, you are the most powerful warrior, and you must lead. I will be right there by your side.”
“Everyone thinks he is a coward too.”
“No, Jankaro,” Valera spoke calmly but with an air of authority. “Everyone is still in shock but they are beginning to understand why you did what you did. Titus was wrong. He should be here. His unit should be here and Orion’s unit should be here.”
Jankaro was shocked that she could speak so evenly about her fallen husband. He assumed she might want to kill him. Deep inside he wondered if she really loved him.
“You were right to fall back. If it weren’t for you, all of our soldiers would have been lost. There would be no hope. But now, at least we have a slim chance. We have a hundred soldiers, we have the Ashtari, and we have some time to prepare.”
“Now that Agustin has transformed himself into a giant Cruxai,” said Oranos, “they won’t wait long before they attack us here. I always knew this day would come but I never wanted to believe it. I saw that face in a dream, just the way Janesa described Anhael’s painting. I wish Titus would have listened to him.”
The three of them watched the king as he chewed on imagined knots and clenched
his fists.
“Maximus and I were talking about a plan,” Jankaro couldn’t help but share his thoughts, in spite of the dread he felt about assuming the responsibility of command.
Oranos reached into a pouch hanging from his chair, removed a folded piece of multicolored cloth, and stood. “Though it pains me greatly to know the death of my sons, I must select a new Commander. Stand.” Jankaro rose to his feet and faced the king. Jankaro of Olaya, I, King Oranos, War Chief of Galdea, name you my Commander. I charge you with the task of defeating Agustin and his Cruxai army.” He draped a shiny silver medallion, held by thick blue braided threads, around Jankaro’s neck.
He looked down and saw a ram’s head etched on it.
“Wear this, and everyone will know I have given you command.”
Suddenly Jankaro felt the tension in his gut release, and a surge of blood pulsed through his veins. He felt elated to be so connected to the king. “Go to Altamont. Make a metal foot. Make sure the claws are sharp, something the beast can use. Janesa and her helpers will perform the surgery to attach it to the bones of his leg. Mend his armor. Ride him before the people.”
“Yes, my king.” He nodded to the king and they shook hands.
He looked at Orion, standing on his crutches in observance of the ceremony. “Commander,” he said. “I await your command.”
“Fix your leg.”
“Yes, sir.” They shook hands.
He turned to Valera. Her beauty made his breath stop for a moment. “I’m sorry about what happened to your husband.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said, holding his gaze. She didn’t seem to be experiencing much grief over his death.
Jankaro headed for the door, and he heard Valera dismiss herself and hug Oranos and Orion. By the time he reached the door he could hear her footsteps behind him. He opened the door and held it open for her, gazing at her as she passed. He followed her down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs she turned around and stopped. He stopped too and they faced each other on the landing.