The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  “I am Jankaro of Olaya, your commander. Spar with me.”

  “With pleasure.” Alacorn smiled and swung the sword at Jankaro’s head. Jankaro blocked and the fight was on. The soldiers gathered around to watch as Alacorn beat him back on his heels. Jankaro dug in, fighting back with aggression as the wooden swords clashed. It wasn’t the same as hacking his way through the Cruxai. Alacorn was a highly trained soldier with more years of battle than he and longer experience with a sword. Jankaro swung too wildly and Alacorn slammed the hilt of his sword into his gut. He doubled over and Alacorn brought his sword down into the back of his neck, knocking him flat on his stomach, gasping for air. If it had been a steel sword he would have lost his head.

  “See that!” Alacorn cried out. “Not half the warrior that Titus was!”

  Jankaro rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He was still gasping for air but he had to seize the moment or all morale would be lost.

  “Obviously I’m not the best swordsman,” he called out for all the soldiers to hear. “But the king has charged me with leading you into battle. I see you all pleasuring yourselves and I ask you: do you want to go down like that? Let Agustin and the Cruxai trample you with your bottle of wine in your hand?”

  The emotions burned inside and he felt the arrowhead flaming in his chest. “Damnit! Get down here and spar! Where is your honor!? Let’s go down fighting! We might even win the damn war!”

  Curses filled the hall. Many of the soldiers shouted at him, but some came down to spar. Jankaro sparred with the woman whom he had earlier defended, and called out for a better swordsman to come and challenge Alacorn. Sweat poured down his brow as the young woman hacked into him. He was able to keep the fight going much longer against her, but eventually she bested him, knocking his sword away and smashing her sword into the side of his head. He fell down and his vision went black. He tried to shake it off as he got back to his feet.

  “Damnit!” He stumbled and cursed as he tried to locate soldiers who were still sitting back and partying. “Get down here and fight!”

  Someone put his practice sword back into his hand and, as his vision returned, a sword came at him and he barely raised his own sword in time to block. As he parried and backed away, he noticed that more soldiers were coming down to spar, filling up the practice floor. Before long he was down on his back again, trying to focus on something.

  Someone cracked a juzi stick under his nose. He bounced up to his feet, let out a roar and swung at the closest person. From then on, chaos ensued. He didn’t know who he was fighting and didn’t care. Other soldiers roared out battle cries and the heat of battle rang in the air. It got so intense it was as if they were fighting the Cruxai. Jankaro was fighting for his life. He beat a few of them but soon took another shot to the head that knocked him out.

  When he awoke the soldiers were gathered around him. Orion pulled him to his feet. He couldn’t focus his eyes but recognized the sound of his voice.

  “The commander has been summoned by the king,” said Orion as he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet.

  “Keep sparring,” Jankaro muttered, almost inaudibly.

  “Keep sparring!” Orion shouted. “We’re not going down without a good fight!” He turned to Jankaro, who sagged on his arm. “Come on, commander, the king summoned you.”

  He dragged Jankaro out of the sparring chamber and down the hall. The sounds of clashing sticks resounded behind them.

  “It worked, Orion,” Jankaro muttered as his feet dragged along the floor. “You hear that? I inspired them.”

  “Most of them, anyway. I think a fiery speech would have done the job. You didn’t have to humiliate yourself and get beaten into a bloody pulp.”

  “My head hurts. I can’t talk to the king right now.” Jankaro got his feet back and held his weight. He tried to let go of Orion and slumped into the wall. He leaned back and closed his eyes. His knees buckled and he started sliding down the wall when Orion grabbed him again and held him up.

  “Don’t worry, you’ve got an hour, then dinner with the king, queen and all the other kings and queens.”

  “Other kings and queens?” Jankaro’s head spun as he tried to grasp the concept.

  “Don’t worry about it right now. Just go get cleaned up and pull yourself together.”

  “Am I bleeding?” Jankaro reached up to his nose and felt the blood on his fingertips.

  “Only from your nose and the cut on your forehead. Oh, and your ear too. We’ve all seen much worse. It went well. You inspired some of the soldiers.”

  “Only some of them?”

  “It’s a start. They went from all hope lost to having some hope. You can go back in there tomorrow for more of the same.”

  Orion smiled and Jankaro couldn’t help but smile back in spite of his aching head.

  “Wait here for a second,” said Orion. He walked into his chamber and came back out carrying a gourd full of liquid. “Here, drink up.”

  “What’s this?” Jankaro could barely hold the bottle up.

  “It’s poison,” Orion quipped. “Breath of life, you idiot. You could really use some after that frenzy.”

  Jankaro took a few gulps and felt refreshed. “It tastes funny.”

  “Just a pinch of juzi stick. It will help ease the comedown.” Jankaro took another gulp and handed it back.

  “No, go ahead and take it with you,” said Orion. “Drink it all. Bathe yourself, lie down for a bit. They expect you to look sharp and presentable at dinner. Remember your table manners, and don’t act like a monkey.”

  “For Sagaya’s sake,” Jankaro muttered as he clutched the bottle and staggered down the hall. “I’ve had enough of Calixo. After this is over, I’m going back to the jungle.”

  “You’re not going to help me take back Dorfin?” Orion called out behind him.

  “Let’s just kill that cursed Agustin first.”

  “My fellow kings and queens of Galdea, I bid you welcome our new commander, Jankaro of Olaya.”

  The king stood and held out his arm to welcome Jankaro.

  “Come sit over here with us.” There was an empty seat between the king and Valera.

  “Your eyes,” Valera said with a look of concern. “They are puffy and bruised.”

  “Trying to win some loyalty,” Jankaro grunted and sat down. He hadn’t fully recovered his senses from the rush of the sparring match and was coming down from the juzi stick.

  “Drink some of this plum wine. It will mellow you out.”

  “Yes, Jankaro,” said the old man across the table wearing a golden crown. “It will mellow you out.”

  He smiled, lifted his glass and took a drink. “We all need to mellow out.”

  “Governor Seffron of Calixo,” Oranos gestured to the man.

  “Welcome to Calixo, commander.”

  Seffron snapped his fingers and a man put a plate in front of Jankaro. It was a grilled samata, just like the ones he had eaten back home with his father.

  “The samata swim upstream into the jungle in the winter. They return this way in the summer. This one was caught fresh this morning.”

  Jankaro sipped from his wine and listened. He inhaled the smell of herbs and citrus on the fish. The grill marks were like diamonds. He reached down to pick it up.

  “No,” Valera quietly said and touched his hand. “Use the fork.”

  “Thanks,” said Jankaro. He carved himself a large bite of fish with his fork and ate. He thought of his father and all the people of his village and how they would eat the fish together when the days were short and the nights were long.

  “It reminds me of back home,” he said to Seffron. “I wish everyone could eat some. Can we share this with the common people beyond the wall?”

  “Oh no, we can’t do that. We don’t have enough fish.”

  “What a
bout tomorrow? You can share the fresh catch with them.”

  “Very well, Jankaro. Oranos has charged you with a dangerous mission, and you are willing to sacrifice your life to defend us. I grant your wish. Tomorrow you may take the catch and give it to the common people.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” said a fat man as he slurped from his glass of wine. “These are the last days of Calixo. Let’s keep the wine flowing and enjoy them while they last.”

  “You can’t be sure of it!” Jankaro snapped at the man, sending bits of fish flying from his mouth into Valera’s hair. She cringed and picked them out. He looked to his left to see Rafael’s widow grimacing at him.

  Her children pointed at him and laughed. “Monkey!” They called out.

  Oranos’ wife grimaced for a moment, then continued staring into the distance, sipping at her wine and remembering days long past.

  “Yes,” said another one of the kings. “Our new commander, Monkey of the Jungle.”

  “Corodan!” Oranos roared and leapt to his feet. “How dare you!”

  Jankaro jumped to his feet. “I’ve had enough of this feast. I am leaving.” He headed for the door.

  “Jankaro,” said the king. Jankaro stopped and turned back to face him. “War Council meeting tomorrow morning after you distribute the fish.”

  “I’ll be there.” Jankaro turned and hastened from the room. The taste of the wine lingered on his tongue and he heard laughter echoing out the door behind him.

  Valera caught up with him in the hall as he walked toward his chamber. He thought he should be going to check on Ixtlayo but he was tired and all his muscles ached.

  “Calixo is the worst place to end up,” said Valera. “The king must tolerate these people but he doesn’t like it here either. He puts up a front but inside his heart is broken beyond repair.”

  “He wants to save the people,” Jankaro rubbed his sore temples and noticed Valera take his arm. He heard the snake hissing about the crown in the back of his mind.

  “Which crown?” After seeing so many crowns he didn’t know which crown the snake was referring to. Which one did she want him to bring to her?

  “What about the crown?”

  “I mean, uh…,” Jankaro inwardly cursed himself for talking about his deal with the snake, or even thinking about it. But he wasn’t in his normal frame of mind, and being in Calixo again brought up bad memories.

  “They’re all wearing crowns. It’s hard to know who is in charge.”

  “Ah, yes. They were all once kings and queens, like my father and mother. But when they realized what was happening with the Cruxai, they joined forces and elected Oranos as War Chief, the king of kings.”

  “His crown is very different from the shiny metal crowns of the others.” Jankaro cringed inside and wondered how he could change the subject.

  “Yes… I don’t know the story behind it but I think that these people are very materialistic and want to show off their wealth. Oranos and his lineage are somewhat different. He only wears the crown in a time of war. In times of peace there is no need for it. When I first encountered him in my youth, he did not wear it. Only after the war began.”

  They arrived at Jankaro’s door. He wanted to stay with her but didn’t know how to say it.

  “I better get some rest,” he said as he turned to face her. His head still ached but her beauty warmed him. Her eyes shone with a light that struck him as familiar and welcoming. He remembered their kiss and put his hands on her waist.

  “Come with me to my chamber. You’ve had a hard day. I have a special reclining chair that is so comfortable, I think you would enjoy relaxing for a bit.”

  “Sounds great.” Jankaro smiled and Valera led him to her chamber. The macaw in the corner squawked when they entered.

  “That’s Jerol.” She walked over and opened the door to the balcony. “Jerol, go on out. Keep watch over the Ashtari for us.”

  Jerol squawked again and flew out. Valera closed the door and beckoned to the cushioned reclining chair by the hearth. “Sit back and relax. I’ll light a fire to keep you warm.”

  Jankaro settled into the chair and noted it was quite comfortable, just what his body needed. He watched as Valera lit some fragrant candles and started a fire in the hearth. He remembered the first time he saw her, flying around the arena in Caladon, dressed like a macaw. “Oh, how I would love to see you dance again.”

  “Oh, you will,” she said, turning and winking at him. “Right after you defeat Agustin and the Cruxai.”

  Fear and discomfort flooded Jankaro’s body. His muscles started to tense up. He started to rise. “I better go find Maximus and…”

  “You don’t need to go find anyone.” Valera put her hand on his chest and pushed him back into the chair. “Let’s get this thing off.”

  She took the medallion, lifted it off of him and placed it on her dresser. Then she started to shake her hips between him and the fire. “I’ll show you a dance that I’ve never shown anyone before. How does that sound?”

  Jankaro took a deep breath and sighed long and loud. He put his arms back behind his head and the fire warmed him as Valera’s seductive movements sent pulses of pleasure through his veins.

  Janesa’s adrenaline surged as she kicked her horse into a gallop, putting Calixo behind them. She pulled out her ponytail and let her hair fly in the wind. The guards warned her not to ride out too far and that the Cruxai could have scouts nearby, but she was not afraid. She welcomed the chance to take them out. She was fully equipped with her yanigo armor, her riding bow and plenty of arrows. Not to mention a freshly sharpened sword and a few daggers on her belt and tucked into her boots. But she hadn’t come to fight; she rode out at sunset to seek the guidance of the Amoza.

  There was a small, hilly forest to the northwest of Calixo where her teacher plant, Koinasa, grew abundantly. She brought her horse to a halt at a small pond fed by a trickling waterfall. A small wooden hut was hidden in the trees, and next to it there was a makeshift stable where her horse could shelter. Her horse drank water while she gathered leaves from the Koinasa and sang songs of praise to the plant, offering gratitude for all the teachings she had received.

  The cabin was dusty and full of cobwebs, just the way she had hoped. No one had been there since her last visit. Anhael told her that it was built by an old medicine man who used it for a while, but decided it wouldn’t suffice because the forest was not populated with enough plants to supply the medicine he needed to produce. But it was the perfect place for Janesa to go on retreat. When she first started her year long diet with Koinasa, she spent the first month in and around the cabin. She ate Koinasa leaves every day, supplementing her diet with bits of fish and root vegetables harvested nearby. It was a time of physical anguish and strain, but it made her stronger. Without the hustle and bustle of the city she was able to forge a strong spiritual connection with her plant teacher, who came to visit her every night in her dreams, teaching her the ways of medicine.

  “You can rest here,” she said to her horse, pointing to the stable. “I know it’s not much. I won’t tie you up. Keep an eye out for danger. If you can, warn me. If you need to run away, go ahead.” She stroked her horse’s mane and unpacked the bags from her back.

  “Here is some food for you.” She dusted off a large earthen bowl in the corner and poured in the horse’s feed. “I will need to concentrate tonight, so be quiet and don’t disturb me unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  Janesa went to the pond and gazed at her reflection in the water. She saw the lines of stress in her brow, but she was proud of the woman she had become. She cupped her hands and drank from the trickling waterfall, giving thanks to the spirits for the water. She set her armor, weapons and clothing on the shore and entered the water to bathe. It was cold but refreshing. She dove below the surface and swam with the little fish, taking a moment to forget the Gald
eans and the Cruxai, and connect with the simple joy of being alive.

  When she breached the surface, the gravity of her life’s situation returned. She smelled the air and was reassured that there was no one around. She gathered her things and said goodnight to her horse. When she returned to the cabin, she lit a fire in the cracked hearth of hardened mud. While the fire warmed the cabin, she put on a loose fitting robe, then swept and tidied up a bit. When she was satisfied, she laid out her altar in front of the fire. She cast a handful of dried cedar into the flames and waved the fragrant smoke over herself and around the cabin with a fan made from an eagle’s tail feathers.

  She knelt back down in front of her altar, gathered a handful of Koinasa leaves, and held them in front of her heart.

  “Koinasa, my revered teacher, guide me into the spirit realm tonight.” One by one she chewed the leaves and swallowed, all the while praising the plant and beckoning its spirit to come to her. When she was through she paused and waited in silence, occasionally directing her attention to the small vial of Amoza that sat in front of her.

  As usual, when she took so much of the plant, she began to feel dizzy and disoriented. When she couldn’t sit up any more, she lay down on her back. The roof melted away and the stars shone down on her, much brighter than usual. She felt the wind cooling her skin and looked to the side. The walls had disappeared and the dark forest surrounded her.

  “Koinasa,” she whispered.

  “I am here, my sweet child,” came the voice of an old woman to her left.

  Janesa looked over but couldn’t see her. She had caught glimpses of her before but always longed to see her more clearly.

  “I need your help.” She felt the emotions of the war stirring within, and tears began to stream down her face. Her stomach lurched up and down as she wept. “They’re going to kill us all. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Yes, you do. You want to drink the Amoza.”

  “Only with your blessing,” she gathered her wits and listened intently for her teacher’s response.