The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  Janesa had to turn her attention away from the brutal battle below when there was no one left on the balcony between her and the advancing Cruxai. They were mostly common ones that she could kill in one shot. Occasionally she could turn and fire an arrow to defend Oranos. But when she took aim on those shots, it was nothing but her worst nightmare unfolding beneath her. The Jurugas and her fellow soldiers cut through one another, but the Cruxai kept coming, and the Galdeans did not. Titus was cut apart and fell. The king roared out his pain and continued fighting as the Jurugas surrounded him. They cut off the hand that held his sword. He reached out with his other hand for the throat of another one, but in the same moment a heavy sword pierced through his armor, into his heart, and out his back.

  Janesa screamed her rage as she fired into the head of the offender. Orion cried out and did the same, killing it with a spear to its head. The Jurugas pointed up at Janesa, Orion and the last few soldiers who chose to stay on the balcony. Through the agony of the loss of her king and all hope, Janesa turned sideways just in time to engage the Cruxai rushing forward to execute her.

  “To the tower!” Orion commanded, though there were only a few Galdeans left to follow him. Janesa was tempted to stay on the balcony and make her final stand, but she abided by her honor and covered Orion’s retreat with the other archers as he was forced to drop his spears so he could manage the rings that bent his knee. He hurried out the back entry of the upper level and the other archers followed him toward the tower. They spent the last few arrows in the quivers on their backs as they covered their own retreat. Janesa was disgusted to realize that the last moments of her life would be spent cornered in a tower, killing Cruxai in a vain hope for survival at the end of a war that had already been lost.

  Jankaro and Maximus killed the first ten Cruxai to charge through the arena door. Soon there were too many to handle with just two archers. Jankaro was sick with himself as he climbed onto Ixltayo’s back and got no response, for he knew what he was about to do might kill the Ashtari. He was out of time to consider it, so he held his breath and fired an arrow into the juzi stick in front of Ixtlayo’s face. The Ashtari sprang up from his slumber and roared at the onrushing Cruxai, stopping them in their tracks. They backed off while more streamed in, filling the arena and surrounding Ixtlayo. Maximus continued his assault, and many of the Cruxai raced up the stairs to confront him.

  It was the third time around, and as Janesa had predicted, the juzi stick didn’t have quite the same energizing effect on Ixtlayo as before. He swiped at the Cruxai, killing them and sending their bodies flying, but lacked his full strength and wouldn’t use his metal foot to attack. When the arena was full, they stopped coming in. Jankaro held tight while Ixtlayo used his final burst of energy to pounce and swipe, doing the work of turning two hundred attacking Cruxai into corpses. By the time the fight was over, Ixtlayo stood at the back wall of the arena panting with fatigue.

  Jankaro looked to the entrance expecting to see more Cruxai pour in, and saw the glowing eyes of a Juruga as it ducked through the door. A chill ran down his spine when he saw the outline of the Ashtari hide in the darkness. The one who slew him in the underworld had come for him. He looked up to the wall, hoping Maximus was there with one last poison-tipped arrow, but saw no one. He heard the fighting in the castle and all over the city, but it was up to him and Ixtlayo to finish their leader.

  The Juruga marched forward as Ixtlayo’s head drooped and he struggled to stay on his feet. Jankaro fumbled for another juzi stick. He broke it in Ixtlayo’s face but it was too late. The Juruga hit Ixtlayo across his cheekbone with the butt of his sword and Ixtlayo collapsed on his side. Jankaro tumbled off as the burst of energy from the juzi stick came over him. He felt the adrenaline surge, but his head ached and his spirit sagged with fear as he scrambled away. The Juruga’s sword crashed into the earth just behind him.

  Jankaro spun around and blocked the next attack. He had pulled his sword without even realizing it, and had just enough strength to keep the Juruga’s sword from driving his own through his face.

  It was just like in the chamber, in the illusory jungle after he spit up the elder seed. He knew he was severely overmatched and there would be no help from Ixtlayo. The final burst of juzi sent spasms through the Ashtari’s body as he lay on the ground with his eyes closed and tongue hanging out. The Juruga swung at Jankaro and made him dodge and tumble, wasting all his energy without giving him any chance to attack. Somehow Jankaro managed to free a dagger and throw it. It lodged in the Juruga’s thigh, causing him to pause for a moment and look at Jankaro with his glowing red eyes. Jankaro tried to catch his breath as he felt his headache worsen. A glance at the door of the arena revealed another Juruga standing there blocking his exit. The Juruga with the Ashtari hide gurgled a small chuckle and flicked away the dagger that barely penetrated his thick skin. He tossed away his heavy shield and twirled his giant sword as he casually advanced on Jankaro to make the kill.

  Jankaro wished he was bigger, faster and stronger. He wished for the strength to charge in and challenge the Juruga and make a valiant final stand. But all he felt was fear and pain. He clutched his sword with both sweaty hands and tried to hold on as it threatened to slip away. He tried to move his feet, but his legs were heavy as his life force had been sucked away by abuse of the juzi stick.

  “Sagaya, help me.” He could barely utter the words as he watched the Juruga lift his sword high. He was too exhausted to offer much defense. He lifted his sword up to protect himself and wondered if the Juruga would chop him up one piece at a time, or simply vanquish him in one blow.

  The Juruga hesitated and took a step to his left. He took another step, reaching up to his neck with his hand. Arrows flew into his face. He swung down on Jankaro with half his strength. Jankaro blocked and the impact knocked him on his back. The Juruga fell next to him, and Jankaro gagged on the scent of poison. He pulled his helmet off and covered his mouth with his palm. A wave of nausea came over him, and he lost consciousness as he struggled to roll away, pinned under the heavy arm of his fallen enemy.

  Jorobai put his hands under Jankaro’s armpits and dragged him away from the monster. When they were free from the scent of the poison, he laid Jankaro on his back and knelt down next to him. He took the sweetly scented cloth and held it to Jankaro’s mouth as Kayo had instructed.

  Jankaro inhaled, rolled to his side and coughed. He rolled onto his back, confused, not knowing where he was. He didn’t know if his head was attached to his body. His head throbbed with pain as if it had been chopped off. He wondered if it had been. He looked up to see a face peering down at him. It was a face he recognized, the jaguar man from the chamber. He wondered if this time he really was dead. “It’s you…”

  “My son,” Jorobai choked on the words and took Jankaro’s hand.

  Jankaro recognized the familiar voice. It wasn’t the jaguar man. He blinked a few times and focused. He saw his father’s face and his jaw dropped. A wave of joy came over him.

  “Jorobai!” He sat up quickly and felt a rush of dizziness.

  “I’ve come to take you home,” said Jorobai. Tears streamed down his face as he helped Jankaro to his feet. Father and son took a moment to look over their shoulders for any advancing Cruxai, but saw only dead bodies, and a few archers standing on the walls of the arena, firing arrows at any Cruxai who tried to enter.

  “I brought help.” When it was clear there was no immediate danger, Jorobai and Jankaro embraced. Jankaro was shocked to see that his father had come to save him, and still wondered if it was real or if Jorobai was greeting him in the spirit world. Jorobai thanked Sagaya for returning his son to him, and marveled at the size and stature of the man that Jankaro had become.

  The Man

  with Two Names

  Janesa bled from minor cuts all over her body, and her arm was about to fall off with fatigue when she perceived the subtle shifting of light through t
he window. The sun was coming. For the past few hours she had taken turns with Orion and the other three soldiers in fighting off the Cruxai one by one as they came up the stairs. They would drag their dead out of the way and keep coming. But the passage was only wide enough for two at a time, which gave the five Galdeans the advantage. They couldn’t be surrounded. They had the high ground. The passage was too narrow for Jurugas. They even had a supply of food and water stashed in the upper chamber of the tower. But in spite of the advantage, they knew the Cruxai had taken the city. When the sun came up, they would shelter in the castle and all the other structures in Calixo. The city was lost.

  In spite of Janesa’s anguish over losing the war, she thought of her own survival. She debated with herself over whether she would try to take a small boat to reach her people in the boats offshore, or if it would be better to leave the Galdeans and return to the jungle. She could return to her tribe and try to protect them from the Cruxai, if they were still there for her to return to.

  “The sun is coming,” said one of the other soldiers, who rested behind her. Janesa kept slicing through the Cruxai one after the other until they relented. The dawn had arrived and they were done for the night. They slinked back down the spiral staircase and left the Galdeans with the stinking dead.

  Janesa’s head ached and she was dizzy from losing blood. Muscles cramped all over her body as she slumped against the wall. Orion and the other soldiers did the same. They passed her a jug of the breath of life. Her body craved it but she could barely lift it to her lips. She took a few swallows, passed it, and collapsed, falling into a half sleep as her body twitched and spasmed and the memories of the long night replayed in her mind. She woke with a start and wrestled her sword out from underneath her hip, thinking a Cruxai was coming at her, but it was just a dead body. She tried to get up and kick it down the stairs, but her body refused to comply. She put her hands beneath her head and closed her eyes again.

  “They’re leaving,” said Orion, full of disbelief. Janesa didn’t know how long she had left when she opened her eyes to a chamber lit by predawn light.

  “Why would they leave?” One of the other Galdean soldiers asked.

  “Look,” said another soldier, pointing excitedly. “Look at those people! They are firing arrows and pushing the Cruxai out!”

  Janesa wrestled herself to her feet, full of disbelief. She staggered over to a shelf and found a small telescope. She looked out over the city and couldn’t believe her eyes. “They’re from the jungle!” She saw five hundred men with bows, firing on the fragmented remnants of the horde, driving them out of Calixo. Many of them rode horses. Others danced along rooftops, using the planks that remained. The Cruxai cowered away from them as they felled Jurugas with one shot from their bows.

  “They must have poison arrows… Anhael brought them!” Emotion welled up in Janesa’s chest as she searched for her estranged mentor, but could not locate him.

  “We’re saved,” Orion said as he lifted his hands off the window ledge. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  Janesa recovered her sword and followed the others down the stairs, plunging it deep into any Cruxai that moved.

  They worked their way down the stairs, through the hallways and to the throne room, stepping through the carnage and driving swords into any Cruxai showing signs of life. Along the way they were joined by other soldiers and militia fighters who had holed up in various corners of the castle and fought their way through the night. Janesa saw countless wounds that needed tending, but she was in no condition to do anything about it. Her body cried out for rest, but there would be none until the city was secured.

  The scene in the throne room made her gag. There were bodies everywhere. The smell of Anhael’s poison filled the air. “The king…” Orion gasped as he looked down at Oranos’ broken body.

  The other soldiers covered their mouths with their hands and looked down at their fallen kin. “Was that Titus?” One of them asked, pointing as the helm of ram’s horns that stuck out from underneath a Juruga’s corpse.

  “Titus died in Caladon. We all saw it…” Orion uttered the words as he realized he had simply assumed that Titus had died. “Let’s go down there and find out.”

  “Wait,” said Janesa. “We can’t breathe this stuff.” She opened a pouch at her waist and pulled out a strip of cloth dabbed with cedar oil for each of them. She tied the cloths around their faces and together they climbed over and around the bodies of Cruxai and fallen Galdeans. The smell of poison was difficult to bear, even through the scented cloth, as they climbed over the dead bodies of hairies and Jurugas to reach the king.

  Together they pulled the Jurugas and hairies off him, and positioned him flat on his back with his hands folded on his chest. One of the soldiers picked up the battered crown and affixed it to Oranos’ head. “We will honor him later with a funeral pyre,” said Orion. “First we must secure the city.”

  They turned their attention to Titus and pulled the hairies and Jurugas off of him. They positioned him on his back with his hands folded on his chest. “Take off his helmet,” said Orion. “We need to know.” He held his breath as the soldier pulled the helmet off.

  “It’s not him,” he said.

  Janesa peered down at the battered face and gasped with sorrow. “Franco.” She knelt down by her friend and caressed the side of his face. “You brave man. You died protecting your king.”

  “Why would he do that?” One of the soldiers asked.

  “Did you see the way those soldiers fought when they saw their commander?” Janesa gestured at the fallen soldiers mixed in with the bodies of the Cruxai. “They thought it was Titus. At that point we all knew we were beaten. They decided to give it all for their commander.”

  “Unlike us,” another of the soldiers lowered his head in shame as he looked around at the dead.

  “Something inside us recognized it was not our time.” Janesa tried to sound resolved as she spoke, but she shared his guilt.

  Orion picked up a sword and drove it into a hairy that stirred next to his ankle. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get outside and find out who survived.”

  “I never told you how your mother died.” Jorobai assisted Jankaro through the night as they poured breath of life into Ixtlayo and finished off any Cruxai that moved. The gore inside the arena made the air smell foul, and Jorobai dragged the bodies away from Gondaro.

  “I know how she died.” In spite of the continued clashing in the city, Jankaro resolved to stay by Ixtlayo and protect him. At one point he ran forward and charged a pair of hairies that came into the arena. Jorobai rushed after him to protect his son, but by the time he got into position to fight, Jankaro had already chopped the head off one and the weapon hand of another. Jorobai tried to help but Jankaro’s next thrust entered the belly of the enemy and the fight was quickly over. “I know it was these demons. It used to bother me not to know,” he said as he wiped his sword on the hairy’s fur. “But now I understand why you kept it from me.”

  In a calm moment before the sun rose, Jankaro looked at his father and was filled with a sense of awe. “That beast… was that you up there… how did you… where did you…?” He couldn’t seem to find the words. “What happened to it?”

  Jorobai took a deep breath. “My son, we both have a long tale to share. That beast was named Gondaro, an Ashtari like this one, born of magic.” Jorobai looked around, trying to stay vigilant and not get lost in storytelling, lest one of his enemies gain an edge and destroy the moment he had given everything to attain. “Look at you,” he said with an exhausted smile and pat on the back. “Riding the Ashtari just like your father. I hated myself for doubting you when you said you saw an Ashtari outside the village. If I had…”

  “Don’t regret. Clearly there are greater forces at work here. Sagaya’s hand guided us, and these Ashtari, to save the people and the land.”

  Jorobai
breathed deep and embraced the wisdom offered by his son. “You must be right.” He felt a burning sensation and reached up to rub his eyes. The sky was shifting from black to blue, and with each passing moment, the burning sensation intensified.

  “My eyes,” he moaned as he tried to open them. He couldn’t handle the brightness. As the sun came over the horizon, it burned through his eyelids and he held his arms over his face. “It burns!”

  “What’s happening?” Jankaro knelt by his father’s side, unsure of what to do.

  “He was given a massive dose of pirisanga so he could see in the dark like you and the other soldiers.”

  Jankaro heard the familiar voice and his head jerked up. “Anhael!” Anhael strode forward with bow in hand. A surge of relief and joy came over Jankaro as he leapt up to embrace the greatest healer he had ever known, the man who could help his father and his Ashtari friend.

  While Jorobai writhed in agony on the ground, Anhael approached Ixtlayo, listened to his breathing and lifted his eyelids. “You gave him breath of life?”

  Jankaro nodded, finding himself nearly too exhausted and battered to speak.

  “You look like you could use some too. How many times did he use the juzi stick?”

  “Three times… the fourth time didn’t work. That Juruga struck him as he was receiving the fourth.” Jankaro pointed at the corpse of his nemesis and shuddered. He looked back at his father, amazed at how he had come back to save him.

  “Don’t worry,” said Anhael. That thing is more dead than dead.” He looked at Jorobai.

  “My father,” Jankaro gestured with his arm and felt a burst of pride that temporarily interrupted his pain.

  Anhael knelt down next to Jorobai and put his hand on his back. “Fetch me a jug of breath of life,” he called to Jankaro as he pulled a cloth from a pouch on his waist. Jankaro recovered a jug from the bags attached to Ixtlayo and brought it to Anhael. “Jorobai, drink.” He opened the jug and held it to Jorobai’s lips.