The Serpent and the Crown

by Sam Puma

  Jorobai took a few swallows and coughed. “Kayo? Is that you?”

  “It’s me. Don’t worry, your eyes will be fine. But you must not open them today.”

  “Kayo?” Jankaro was confused. “Anhael, how do you know my father?”

  “I helped him on his journey before I helped you on yours. Then I found him again. And now here we are.” He smiled wide at Jankaro. “You don’t know how good it feels to finally see the two of you together. Here,” he handed the jug to Jankaro. “Pour that over this cloth.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jankaro said as he poured. “Why do you have two names?”

  “My father… wait… is Ixtlayo’s den clear?”

  Jankaro jogged over to Ixtlayo’s den with sword in hand, jumping over fallen Cruxai on his way. He peered in to find it empty. “It’s clear.”

  “Jorobai, stand up.” Anhael helped Jorobai to his feet. “Let’s get you over there where it’s dark.” He helped Jorobai to his feet and led him around the bodies and into Ixtlayo’s den. Jankaro stood at the door but did not enter. He wasn’t sure what was happening outside and wanted to keep an eye on Ixtlayo.

  In the dim light of the den, Anhael coaxed Jorobai into lowering his arms away from his face. “Just for a moment. Keep your eyes closed.” He took the cloth soaked with breath of life and wrapped it around Jorobai’s head.

  “Ahhh,” Jorobai felt soothed by the cold water on his burning face. He lay down on his back. He had questions for Kayo but his fatigue was too great to concentrate on anything. His sorrow of losing Gondaro was balanced by the joy of finding his son. His vigilant body relaxed and he drifted to sleep. His soul soared with the satisfaction of a quest completed.

  “Here.” Back in the arena, Anhael held the jug of breath of life to Jankaro, who took a long drink and passed it back. “Lets get this off.” Jankaro kept his eyes on Ixtlayo and grunted as Anhael helped him out of the upper portions of his armor. He cut away the sleeve of Jankaro’s shirt and flipped the medallion that hung from his neck. “Look at that. I go away for a few days and they make you commander.”

  “It wasn’t my idea.” Jankaro winced as Anhael cleaned his wounded arm, applied a stinging herbal oil, and wrapped it tight with several layers of clean cloth. “What will you do for him?” Jankaro nodded at Ixtlayo as he pulled the blood-splattered yanigo armor from his legs to expose his blue Galdean pants, soaked with sweat. The breeze soothed him as he reached for the breath of life and took another long drink.

  Anhael took a deep breath and looked over at the Ashtari. “Help me remove his armor. He has suffered countless wounds, lost a lot of blood, and taken a potentially lethal dose of juzi stick. I will feed him and treat what I can, but only time will tell.”

  Anhael chanted a soft melody as Jankaro helped him cut away the armor and carefully separate it in the places where it was stuck to his fur with blood.

  “My father and I are a lot like you and your father.” As Jankaro finished pulling away the last bit of armor that they could without moving Ixtlayo, Anhael took a moment to smoke from his pipe. He blew puffs of smoke all over Ixtlayo’s body. “But we are from the northern jungle, to the north of Caladon. My father was hunted and we had to flee when they attacked our village. They killed everyone. My mother. My brothers and sisters. My relatives. Most of my people. Others may have lived, I don’t know. My father and I escaped Agustin’s clutches, and we swore to fight him until the end.

  “We need water to clean him. Where are my helpers? Do they live?”

  Jankaro brought his mind back to the present and thought of his friends. He thought of Janesa, escaping to the castle, and wondered if she had survived. He thought of Maximus and Franco. He knew that all of them could be dead, and looked at Anhael with a look of worry. “Maximus was helping us to fight, but…” He looked all around the arena but didn’t see anything but dead Cruxai.

  Anhael pulled a flute from a pouch on his belt and played a simple tune. “Just maybe…” He waited for a moment and looked around. “I don’t know if they are loyal to me any more. I don’t know if anyone around here is loyal to me any more, or if it’s safe to show my face in the daylight.”

  “That’s not true. Everyone knows we should have listened to you. Once we saw the face of that giant, and it looked just like your painting, we knew how wrong we were. I’m sorry about your worms.”

  “They were more than worms.”

  “I know.” Jankaro looked at Anhael with a look of regret, remembering how he had sat frozen while Titus rejected Anhael and killed the worms. “I should have stood up and defended you.”

  “You are forgiven. Those beings are still with me. My father sent them to help me, and they guide me from their home on the other side.”

  As Anhael was about to turn his attention back to Ixtlayo, a soldier walked into the arena with a bow slung over his shoulder. Both looked up to see that it was Maximus. “Master!” It was clear that he was also exhausted from the fight, but he forced himself into a jog as he hurried forward to embrace Anhael.

  “You don’t look so good,” Anhael looked over Maximus, who had dried blood crusted on his face and matted in his hair. He had cuts all over his body and the broken shaft of an arrow protruding from his thigh.

  Maximus turned to Jankaro. “I’m glad you made it, commander. I tried to cover you as long as I could but when they overwhelmed me I had to escape. I was surrounded and escaped again, to the back of the city. I fought until I fell over, and… I don’t know what happened. I must have taken too much juzi. The flute awakened me,” he turned back to Anhael as a weary smile traced his lips, “and I knew you had returned.”

  “I am proud of you and Franco for bringing the plants that you collected back to Calixo and making the poison. Without you, we would have lost.”

  Maximus’ chest expanded as he inhaled and received the praise from his mentor. “We didn’t know if we were doing the right thing, but we thought we should keep those plants just in case… after all, we paid a price to get them.” He reached up to touch his face, remembering the itchy rash he received.

  “Drink,” said Anhael, extending the jug of breath of life to Maximus.

  Maximus tipped the jug back and drank. “Janesa and Franco? Did they report?” He tipped the jug back and drank again. When he brought the jug down, the three men looked up to see Janesa walk into the arena.

  Janesa strode over and embraced them one by one, telling them how glad she was that they had survived. “You came back for us,” she said as she released Anhael from the embrace.

  “You could use some of this too.” He handed the jug of breath of life to her and she drank.

  “Commander,” she said, turning to Jankaro. “Upper Calixo is mostly secure. Orion has posted guards along the wall.”

  Jankaro nodded and sighed with relief to know that Orion had survived. “The king?”

  Grief came over all of them as Janesa reported Oranos’ fate. She told them about the man who came in wearing Titus’ armor and tried to save the king. They were grieved again to hear that it was Franco.

  “Where is his body?”

  “Orion said we must honor the king and all the soldiers with a ceremonial pyre like we did in Caladon. For now their bodies are being brought to the warehouse behind the arena.”

  “Franco. One of my three beloved students. By giving his life with such valor, he has made me proud. All three of you have made me so proud. I will summon you later this afternoon and we will bless his body before it is burned.

  “For now, Janesa, we need water to clean Ixtlayo. See that several buckets are sent here. And tend to Maximus’ wounds. Let him rest. Maximus, when you are able, help Janesa care for the other soldiers.”

  “I was just getting started setting up a care center in the barracks when I heard the flute. Come on, Maximus.” Janesa turned to go, then stopped and turned back to Jankaro. �
�Any orders, commander?”

  Jankaro scratched his head, still confused about how to be a leader. “Tell Orion I’m glad he is alive, and I trust him to secure the city.” As Janesa and Maximus turned to go, he remembered Valera. “The boats!” He called out. “Signal the boats!”

  “Already done, commander. The boats are on their way in. The children will be kept aboard while the bodies are cleared.”

  Jankaro took a moment to check on Jorobai and found him fast asleep in the darkness. Seeing his father filled him with strength and he returned to Anhael’s side ready to continue the work on Ixtlayo. Anhael summoned his horse and pulled down bags full of medical supplies. “Here,” Anhael passed his pipe to Jankaro. “Take a few puffs and sing to him. He likes it when you sing to him.”

  Jankaro took a few puffs and blew the smoke on Ixtlayo. He took a drink of breath of life to clear his dry throat and hummed his mother’s tune into Ixtlayo’s ear. A group of haggard young men arrived pulling a cart full of buckets of water. Anhael thanked them and sent them away, telling them to come back with twenty men to help flip Ixtlayo. “We will treat this side, then flip him. We can’t use a juzi stick, he is already overdosed. We need to remove this metal paw. It’s too heavy. With my father’s magic, he may be able to regenerate a new paw of his own flesh.”

  Jankaro raised an eyebrow, curious about Anhael, his father, and his past. “You still haven’t told me why you have two names.”

  “Right.” Anhael began laying out his supplies and mixing an herbal poultice. “Take that water and pour it over his wounds. Pour it all over him. Put a splash of breath of life in every bucket before you pour.”

  Jankaro followed Anhael’s instructions, patting Ixtlayo and singing softly as he cleaned him. Ixtlayo lay still but occasionally his face twitched and his muscles spasmed. It was enough to let them know he was still alive.

  Anhael went from one wound to another, dabbing them with cloths and applying the poultice. “You mustn’t tell anyone that I have two names, or mention the name Kayo to the Galdeans. Jorobai must do the same. Do not tell them that I am the son of Ishikaya. When they found out what my father did, thick-skulled men like Titus were enraged and tried to kill him. Oranos protected him, but we had to leave the city and take refuge in the southern jungle, near your village.”

  “Why would they want to kill your father?”

  “You mustn’t tell anyone. I don’t know what they would do if they found out who I am.”

  Jankaro nodded. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “My father created the Cruxai.” Anhael spat out his confession as he swiftly pulled an arrowhead from Ixtlayo’s neck.

  “What?!” Ixtlayo’s leg jerked, knocking Jankaro on his back. He felt his adrenaline surge and his muscles tense as he got up. He felt his rage at the Cruxai directed at Anhael, but rationality held him back. After everything they had been through together, he knew he could trust him. So he calmed himself and waited for Anhael to explain.

  “You know the story. He created them to protect himself from Agustin’s armies. To protect the people of the jungle. For a while it worked. The Cruxai fought Agustin’s forces and held them off. They were loyal to my father and wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he commanded them to fight.

  “But Agustin stole the power of the other shamans he had captured. He became what he hated. He went from hunting shamans to becoming the most powerful shaman. He attacked my father in the spirit world, and stole the loyalty of the Cruxai.”

  The spear wound in Ixtlayo’s side was still bleeding. Anhael lit a torch and cauterized it. Ixtlayo’s whole body jerked for a moment before returning to a dormant state. Jankaro felt a growing hope that Ixtlayo could make it through and be whole again.

  “He bred them and turned them against Oranos and all of Galdea.”

  Jankaro hated that Anhael’s father created the Cruxai, but he hated Agustin even more for the destruction that he caused. He believed Anhael spoke the truth. “You made a new name and returned to the Galdeans so that your father could use his magic to help them fight.”

  “We make alliances with the spirits of the plants, and we help others to do the same. So we see in the dark and fight with vigor and precision. During a long battle, a single Galdean soldier has been known to slay hundreds of Cruxai. It wasn’t always that way. I am always coming and going from the jungle at my father’s side to the Galdean cities, offering my father’s shamanic strength to the efforts of the war.”

  “You helped Jorobai find me?”

  “I did.” Anhael stepped back from Ixtlayo and puffed on his pipe. “Like you, he is very brave.”

  “Where did that giant Ashtari come from?”

  “From a mysterious place. I was not there to witness his birth. You will have to ask your father for that tale.”

  Anhael looked over at the entrance to the arena and watched as a group of young men and women entered. They cleared a space around Ixtlayo and lay down clean sheets on the ground where he would lie after they flipped him over.

  Anhael led them as they lined up behind Ixtlayo and pushed on him. They pushed with all their force, but could not lift him. Anhael turned to Jankaro. “We need his help. Sing for him.”

  Jankaro rubbed Ixtlayo behind his ear. “Got to get up for a moment, my friend, so we can take care of your wounds on the other side. We’re going to take care of you.”

  Jankaro hummed to Ixtlayo and the Galdeans pushed up on his back. “That’s it, my boy,” said Anhael as Ixtlayo lifted his head and curled up his legs. He leaned his weight up with the help of the Galdeans and they were able to get him on his stomach.

  “Right here,” Jankaro pointed at the sheets but couldn’t catch Ixtlayo’s eyes. They drifted and rolled as his head bobbed. He collapsed in a heap on the sheets and emitted a short, high-pitched cry.

  Jankaro followed Anhael’s attention to the metal paw and the infected blood that seeped out. “We need to take that thing off and treat his wound.” He turned to the Galdean helpers. “Get these Cruxai bodies out of here.” He turned back to Jankaro as the Galdeans dispersed. “It’s hard to do any healing work with all this death and evil energy around. It will help to get this place cleaned up.”

  Together they performed a similar routine for Ixtlayo on his other side. They cut away the yanigo armor, bathed him, treated his wounds and gave him more breath of life, all the while chanting prayers to Sagaya.

  In his song, Anhael called upon the spirits of the plants to heal Ixtlayo. He grimaced as he focused on Ixtlayo’s disjointed paw. “This is going to take some work. I need more tools…” He took out his whistle and summoned Janesa while Jankaro poured water on the wound. He felt nauseous and fought back the urge to vomit as he watched the blood mixed with green and yellow pus spill onto the sheets.

  When Janesa arrived, Anhael gave her a list of tools and supplies needed for Ixltayo. She hurried away and Anhael turned back to Jankaro, who fought the dizziness as he turned his head away from Ixtlayo. “I won’t be needing your help for a while. Go and check on your father. Get some rest. I will send food for you.”

  Jankaro thought he should resist but had to admit his energy was gone and he needed sleep. Anhael gave him a gourd of breath of life and he took several swallows before he headed over to Ixtlayo’s den.

  Jankaro saw his father sleeping on the ground and set the gourd down next to him. He wondered about his journey and what he had been through. He feared for Ixtlayo, but trusted that Anhael would help him in any way he could. He imagined what the treatment of his leg might look like, but shook away the image as a wave of nausea came over him. He felt so dizzy he had to lie down on his back beside his father. Amidst the fatigue, nausea, headache, and pain all over his body, he listened to the joy that welled up in his heart. The battle was won and his father had returned to him. The words “thank you, Sagaya” formed on his lips as he quickly drifted off to sleep.


  “Wake up, son.” Jorobai shook Jankaro’s shoulder. “There is someone here to see you.”

  Jankaro’s nostrils delighted in the smell of a cooked meal. He pushed himself up to see his father feasting on a bowl of hot food. “There’s one for you too.” Valera’s voice made his heart jump. He jerked his head around to see her kneeling before him. She was a dark shadow backed by a dazzling sunset of pink clouds that streamed through the opening of the den. “Whoa!” Her breath caught in her throat as Jankaro pounced on her with his embrace. Together they tumbled in the dirt.

  Jankaro didn’t care that her dress was getting dirty. He couldn’t help but laugh. He laughed out loud, giggling with exhilaration, overjoyed to see her again. Valera laughed with him, and when the laughter subsided their mouths came together in a long, wet kiss. Jankaro’s body craved her, but when he instinctively reached down to pull her legs apart, she put her hand to his chest and pushed him off. “Your father is here!”

  “My father!” His shocked expression became a smile as he sat up straight, turned and smiled at Jorobai.

  “Jankaro, come and eat.” Jorobai continued eating greedily and beckoned with his arm, gesturing in the wrong direction as his eyes were still wrapped up with the cloth that Anhael had prepared for him. “This young woman brought us a savory dish.”

  “Jorobai!” Jankaro said excitedly, taking Valera’s hand and leading her to sit down with him and Jorobai. “This is Valera, my mate!”

  Jorobai smiled as he remembered what it felt like to bring Shalea back to Olaya for the first time and show her off to his family and his tribe. “I will always credit her with bringing the savory stew. Come on son, eat with me.”

  Jankaro picked up the bowl of food. He sipped from the broth and it warmed his belly. He hastily gobbled down a few bites before he extended the bowl to Valera. “Have you eaten?”