The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  A bright green viper slithered past Jorobai and he leapt out of the way to give it a wide berth. His ears rang as the sound bore into him. His knees wobbled and he dropped to the ground, clutching his ears. Through the pain and weakness, he felt an inner knowing. That sound was for him and Gondaro. It called to them. It came from the direction they had been travelling since he first climbed onto Gondaro’s back.

  Gondaro’s frenzy continued. He roared and scratched the ground, sending debris flying in all directions. He tore out large trees and churned up all the plants, exposing a massive patch of bare earth, the dark red-brown underbelly of the jungle that Jorobai’s father referred to as “the upturned palms of Sagaya” when he taught him how to cultivate the plants that sustained the village.

  “Sagaya turns up his palms, and the life force flows from his hands into the plants and all the creatures of the jungle.” Jorobai found himself repeating his father’s words aloud as the soil from Gondaro’s frenzy rained down upon him. The Ashtari growled with urgency and pain as he frantically scratched at the earth. “We plant our seeds with our hands, place them in the ground, and cover them with the soil. With our hands on the earth, we touch the hands of Sagaya, and we give thanks, knowing the abundance that he brings.” As the sound faded and Gondaro calmed himself, Jorobai rose to his feet. He watched as Gondaro knelt down before him. Both of them were covered with earth. Jorobai felt the strength of Sagaya’s hands all over his body and he was renewed. He climbed onto Gondaro’s back, and once again resolved that he would pass down all the lessons he learned from his father to his son.

  He inhaled deeply as Gondaro rose to his full height. His thoughts of Jankaro and Olaya faded and his attention sought the southern horizon. He could feel the earth through Gondaro’s feet as if they were his own. He smelled the air and picked up on something foul. The wind blew through his ears and birds twirled by, but his mind remained blank. His thoughts drifted away as he surrendered to Gondaro’s purpose: follow the sound that blasted through the sky. Gondaro picked up the pace and trotted forward, leaving the jungle for rolling hills, valleys and plains as the sun disappeared beneath the waves of the sea.

  Two Battles

  Oranos, Orion, and the other officers directed the soldiers and the civilian militia to their battle stations. Janesa arrived on her horse, towing a wagon filled with Ixtlayo’s armor and Jankaro’s supplies and weapons. Maximus and Franco arrived behind her, and distributed the arrows, twenty for each of the ten best archers, including Janesa. Together the four of them helped Ixtlayo into his armor. He winced back the pain as they buckled the armor around his left leg.

  “Got to get you all covered up,” said Janesa as she ran her hand down the side of his face. “Breath of life,” she turned to Jankaro and nodded to the bundles and gourds as she pulled them off the wagon and strapped them to Ixtlayo’s back and sides, “Juzi stick, Sukuwasi, and modovina - a sedative - just in case.”

  “A sedative?!” Jankaro squinted at her in confusion. “Why would I want to give him that?”

  “Let’s not talk about it.” Janesa grimaced and continued tying the supplies down on Ixtlayo’s body. “We’ll assume you won’t. I’m just letting you know it’s there. And don’t forget your armor.” She nodded at the contents in the cart.

  Jankaro donned his armor as he surveyed the weapons laid out before him. He sheathed his sword by his side and tucked three daggers into his belt and ankle straps. He strapped his bow and five quivers full of fifty arrows each onto Gondaro’s back. “Sorry friend,” he said, looking up into the Ashtari’s eyes. “I know it must be heavy.” Ixtlayo grunted a dismissive tone. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he sniffed the wind.

  “I can’t smell them yet,” said Janesa.

  “Perhaps Ixtlayo can smell them.”

  “I think he would have offered a more clear indication of it if he did. I’m going to ride out and get a sense of their location.”

  “Are you crazy? The horde is on the move and the sun has set. Don’t risk yourself.”

  “I can smell them from a mile away. I’ll be back soon.”

  Before Jankaro could protest further, Janesa was on her horse and headed out the front gate.

  “Your lance, commander,” said Maximus from behind Jankaro. He held the long wooden lance for Jankaro to inspect. “Made from a young yanigo tree and sharpened to a fine point. The tip has been dipped in Anhael’s poison, dried, and wrapped in a protective layer of cloth. It’s best not to let anyone get close to it.”

  “Enough poison to bring down Agustin?” Jankaro fixed Maximus with an inquisitive stare.

  “Without a doubt,” Maximus replied without flinching or breaking eye contact.

  “Good.” Jankaro climbed back onto Ixtlayo’s back. He reached his hand down, and Maximus passed him the lance.

  “May Sagaya bless you in battle, commander.”

  “And you, Maximus.” Jankaro urged Ixtlayo forward, and they assumed their position behind the gate, ready to charge out into the night and meet their fate.

  Darkness descended on the Galdean forces while they stood poised for the arrival of the Cruxai horde. Shadows danced all over Calixo as the gentle wind caressed the torches that lit up the city. The half moon hung directly above them. Jankaro stood on the wall with Orion and Oranos, while Ixtlayo waited behind the gate alone, occasionally licking the surgical union of his left leg and iron paw. He watched the horizon through a hole in the gate, and ate fish when they were offered to him.

  “Most of these people do not have night vision,” said Orion as he gazed into the distance. “Only us soldiers. They depend on torchlight to see. At some point we will torch the marketplace. With the fire and the smoke, everything will be chaotic. Many of them will lose their nerve.”

  “Perhaps only a few,” Oranos lowered his voice so as not to be overheard.

  “Why torch the marketplace?” Jankaro asked.

  “If we don’t,” Orion continued, “they will. It’s better to do it at an advantageous moment when we can burn them in the process.”

  “They will burn everything they can,” said Oranos. “We will fight them from the rooftops, raining death upon them as we retreat to the back wall.”

  “What if they run back there and cut us off?” Jankaro pondered the different scenarios. “Those Juruga can run faster than us.”

  “They tend to take a more straightforward approach,” said Orion. “They will advance but they will likely try to claim the rooftops and kill the archers. You and Ixtlayo can take the Jurugas one at a time, and we will also be hitting them with the poison arrows.”

  “If two or three Jurugas suddenly attack us…”

  “Don’t get lost in speculation,” said Oranos. “Stay focused and ready. If they double up on you, I will be there to back you up.”

  “And I,” said Orion. “And all of us. Remember, we’re all in this together. We’ve got to watch each other’s backs. That is the only way to fight them. We need each other. Remember Dorfin? You picked me up when I was about to go down. That is the spirit that will win the night.”

  “Look!” Jankaro called out, pointing into the distance. He was relieved to see the glowing figure of Janesa on her horse, galloping back to Calixo.

  Ixtlayo obliged Jankaro’s command to make way for Janesa’s horse as she came back through the gate. She climbed the ladder to report to Oranos.

  “Did you see them?” Oranos asked.

  “No, just the unmistakable smell of thousands of Cruxai. They should be here within an hour.”

  Oranos’s lips tightened over his protruding tusks. “Assume your position.”

  “One more thing, my king. I smelled something else out there. It smelled very much like...” Janesa glanced at Ixtlayo. “Ashtari.”

  “It could be an ally,” said Jankaro. “The first time Ixtlayo roared like that, an army of jaguars came
to our aide. Perhaps this time more Ashtari have come to help fight the Cruxai.”

  “Or the Cruxai have acquired some Ashtari to ride,” said Orion.

  “For now, it matters little,” said Oranos. “What else can we do but prepare to fight? If the Cruxai come riding on Ashtaris we will fight them all the same. If an army of Ashtari comes charging out of the jungle to rescue us, we will welcome their aid. Janesa, to your post.”

  “Yes, my king.” Janesa climbed down the wall, ordered more fish for Ixtlayo and assumed her position amid the soldiers and militia fighters who would protect her. Janesa, like the other top archers, was issued a set of poison arrows by Maximus. Each of these archers was assigned a guard of four soldiers and a dozen militiamen to buffer them from the Cruxai coming up the wall, so that they would have more time to fire poison arrows at the Jurugas without having to worry about defending themselves.

  Jankaro remembered his time in the chamber, when he ate the elder seed and was slain by the Juruga with the Ashtari hide. He remembered seeing that same Juruga in Dorfin, and he wondered if that was what Janesa smelled. He watched Ixtlayo as he wondered to himself where the smell could have come from.

  “Ixtlayo,” he silently mouthed his words toward Ixtlayo, so as not to annoy the king with more speculation. “Could it be your kin? Have you summoned them from a distant place? Did you hold back calling to them last time, in case they were needed as a last resort?” He watched Ixtlayo for an answer, but Ixtlayo continued sniffing the air, looking for an answer of his own.

  Many of the soldiers confirmed they could smell the Cruxai before Jankaro picked it up. “It’s not the horde,” a scout reported to Oranos. “Only a group of a thousand. The horde is further back.”

  “I see them,” said Oranos, squinting into the distance. The civilian militia saw nothing, but the soldiers watched as the group of 1000 Cruxai marched forward, led by three hairy ones. Oranos met Jankaro’s inquiring eyes.

  “He sent them to spring the traps.”

  Jankaro watched as the Cruxai unit advanced, spread out in a wide formation. They fell into ditches that collapsed beneath their feet, and impaled themselves on the spikes below.

  “Kill the leaders,” Oranos commanded. Arrows flew through the air and brought down the hairy Cruxai.

  “They’ve sprung all but a few of our pits,” said Orion to Oranos.

  “Fire at will,” Oranos called out to his archers. Arrows sailed through the air and impaled the remaining Cruxai who advanced on the wall with their ladders. Only one ladder made it to the wall. A soldier pushed it off, and the Cruxai trying to raise it were killed with large rocks thrown by the militia.

  “What was that all about?” Orion’s brow furrowed.

  “He wanted to spring the traps before he advanced the horde. See his scouts out there?” Oranos pointed to the distance where three Cruxai rode their lizard mounts back to the north. “Brace yourselves. The horde is coming.”

  The glow of Cruxai bodies started faintly but grew in width, depth and brightness as more and more of them advanced over the hills and through the valleys that led to Calixo. Agustin’s glowing, giant head emerged over a hill and many of the soldiers gasped. A murmur broke out among the fighters on the wall as the rest of his body gradually came into view. Even the civilians could see the dark outline by the way it blotted out the stars behind it. Jankaro choked on the lump in his throat. The horde advanced in a formation much like the one they used in Caladon. The Jurugas surrounded Agustin, the hairies surrounded the Jurugas, and the common Cruxai surrounded the hairies.

  Just outside of the archers’ range, Agustin uttered a booming guttural tone, and the horde was brought to a halt. He turned his giant head to the east.

  “Look!” Janesa called out and pointed as another giant figure emerged from the east and moved toward Agustin. Ixtlayo reared up on his hind legs and roared.

  “Ashtari,” Jankaro gasped, staring at the gargantuan who had come to join the battle. He noted the glowing figure of a man riding it, and felt a kinship, as if he was looking at himself riding on Ixtlayo. He remembered Valera’s dream, and was filled with hope.

  “Friend or foe?” Oranos mused with a worried expression as the giant beast advanced on the space between Calixo and the Cruxai horde.

  “If it’s a foe, we’re all dead,” said Orion as he watched the beast rear back its head and emit a roar that shook the sky. Fearful cries broke out among the civilian forces that lined the wall.

  “He is Ashtari. He fights with us.” Jankaro knew what the roar meant. He heard the jaguar man chanting in the back of his mind and his spirit was lifted. The man on the giant Ashtari looked familiar. He thought it might be Anhael. Even though all he could see was his glowing aura, he knew the man was from the jungle.

  Jorobai couldn’t comprehend the scene that stretched out in front of him. By the moonlight and torchlight he could scarcely see the horde of mongrels, yet the sight of them stirred a rage from deep within. He couldn’t see the features of the giant that stood among them, only the outline of blackness that blotted out the starlit sky. There was no doubt it was the enemy that Gondaro was poised to confront.

  He looked down at the giant stone village and the warriors that lined the torchlit walls. For a moment he was amazed by the sight, but everything was at stake and there was no time to wonder. He looked for Jankaro and noticed the Ashtari that reared up on its hind legs behind the wall. It seemed to be trying to get his attention, and it reminded him of Gondaro coming to save him from Jugon Drogon.

  Jorobai also noticed another strange creature standing on the wall. He was the size of Jugon Drogon and looked like he belonged on the other side with the mongrels, but stood among the men, as if he were one of them.

  He remembered what the jaguar man prophesied to him in the cave, that Gondaro would know where to find Jankaro. He wondered if it was him on the Ashtari.

  “Jankaro!” He called out, but feared he was too far away to be heard.

  The mongrel army and the fighters on the wall all stared at Gondaro, waiting for the giant Ashtari to make his move. He grunted an acknowledgment to the Ashtari behind the wall and turned his attention to the reptilian giant and the mongrel horde. Gondaro dug into the earth with his claws, and the giant beckoned him with a straightened club made from a fallen tree. Jorobai knew what was about to happen, and realized it was unlikely he would live through it. He pushed the morbid thought from his mind and twirled Gondaro’s fur around his wrists and ankles as tight as he could in an attempt to secure himself.

  When Gondaro launched himself forward at full speed, Jorobai nearly went tumbling to his death. He held on with all his strength. Gondaro trampled and squished several mongrels before he sprang up to pounce on the black giant. The giant swung the club, but Gondaro lifted his body higher in the air and it missed below him. His claws cut the back of the giant’s shoulders as his leap carried him up and over his target.

  Jorobai lost his footing and swung by his arms when Gondaro touched down with a grunt. He hung tight as Gondaro dodged the giant mongrel’s swinging club, and attempted to pounce while the giant dodged and pushed him away.

  Jankaro, Ixtlayo and the Galdeans erupted in wild cheers and lifted their weapons into the sky when they saw the giant Ashtari squash dozens of Cruxai on its way to challenge Agustin.

  “Who was that man up there?” Orion asked.

  “I think it was Anhael,” said Oranos.

  “Not Anhael,” said Janesa, “but he may have had a hand in this.”

  “Look!” Jankaro called out and pointed. “They are advancing. I can see the Juruga with the Ashtari hide among them. He is commanding them to carry on the attack without Agustin.”

  “Now that Agustin is occupied,” said Oranos, “you can save that poison lance for one of those Jurugas. For now, take up your bow. We must save Ixtlayo for after they break through.”

/>   Jankaro tightened the straps of his armor and nocked an arrow as the king lifted his crusted hand high. The Galdeans watched with their weapons ready as the Cruxai horde marched on their gates. “Ready! Aim! Fire!” Oranos dropped his hand to his side and the arrows flew through the sky, raining down on the advancing horde.

  “Save the poison arrows until you have a clear shot on a Juruga!” Janesa called out to the archers.

  Ixtlayo roared from below, and scratched at the hard stone ground, anxiously awaiting his chance to tear into the flesh of the Cruxai.

  The Cruxai advanced their ladders to the wall. Whenever one of them fell, another was quick to grab the ladder and keep it moving forward. Their archers fired burning arrows into Calixo’s thick wooden gate.

  “They didn’t bring a battering ram!” Orion cried out. “They assumed Agustin would smash through the gate!”

  “That will only slow their advance,” said Oranos as he held up his giant shield with a ram’s head painted on it, absorbing the Cruxai arrows. “Don’t try to claim victory yet.” The king lowered his shield violently into a Cruxai ladder, sending wooden fragments cascading down. Jankaro took aim at any archers who dared fire in their direction.

  When two Jurugas hacked at the gate with their giant swords, Janesa and the other master archers took advantage of the moment and used their poison arrows. One Juruga got an arrow in his neck and back, and the other was hit in the face and chest. They each gave one final swing before the convulsions brought them down.

  “We will need to fall back soon,” said Oranos to Jankaro as they surveyed the Cruxai advance. To their left, a civilian fighter fell forward over the wall, into the ranks of the Cruxai. He had forgotten the warning and was mesmerized by the spinning yellow eyes of a common Cruxai. Down below they were quick to finish him off.