Most returned victorious and would wear the skull of the cat they had killed. Tersh had never intended to go hunt one herself. She was content with the small game that kept her family alive, but now she felt the same nervous excitement she had that day as a girl, only now she had a real spear. Now, she was the one who was alone against the beast, and she was the one who would end up sitting in her own blood and falling asleep for eternity if she wasn’t careful.
Finding tracks in the mountain was not as easy as in the lush Sea Mahat, where the ground was soft and the vegetation easy to disturb. If it weren’t for the dead goat, she would have no proof there was a lion following them. She frowned at the stripped corpse, at the white skull, which emerged from the torn flesh. It was the same as the skull she had pulled out of the cauldron.
I should have picked the horse, she thought. But of course, she hadn’t really been given a choice. She had gone last, and all that was left was Matawe and Death.
If the lion was eating goat she wasn’t sure why it was stalking them. She knew cats liked to play, or maybe it was curiosity. She didn’t know what thought was worse—the lion wanting eat them, or wanting to kill them and leave them to rot on the mountain slopes. She’d always wondered if the leopard had returned to eat the man or if it hadn’t even cared enough to finish the job.
She heard the tiny pebble fall down the sheer wall she walked beside. If it hadn’t fallen, she would have never looked up, never seen the tense shoulders and claws curling over the edge of a landing just above her.
Tersh and the lion held each other’s gaze just long enough for her to realize she ought to lift up her spear. The lion pounced and Tersh let the spear loose. Her throw was good, strong. The spear hit the lion, dug into the skin beneath its arm, slid between its ribs and went far enough to hit its lung. But a lung wasn’t a heart, and the lion wasn’t dead.
She rolled away as the lion landed where she’d been. She heard a snap of wood and a yelp, and when she turned back she saw the spear had broken in half, the sharp end was still sticking into its body through its armpit. It stood on only three legs to keep its weight off the injured one, but the lion still roared and looked as fierce as ever. Tersh felt a coldness that did not come from the wind.
The lion was back on its haunches, and Tersh was crouching as she turned and looked around wildly for anything that could help her. She saw a rock. She grabbed at it, and her movement made the lion pounce. This time, Tersh was too slow and the lion tackled her to her side. She felt claws digging into her shoulders, but before the lion could bite down she brought up the rock and cracked the lion in the head. The lion roared. She hit it again. The lion swiped at her forearm, cutting her skin, but she hit it again. The lion hissed and jumped off.
Tersh scrambled to her feet, her eyes locking on the broken end of the spear, the splintered wood jagged and sharp. She lunged for it and felt claws rake across her legs. She fell next to the spear, grabbing it and trying to turn to face the lion as it leaped, placing the butt against the mountain wall as she felt the weight of the lion fall against her.
The lion roared in pain as the jagged end of the half-spear stabbed the cat in its stomach. The lion tried to back away but Tersh grabbed the spear-end still sticking out from under its arm. It began mewling pitifully, its strength draining as it continued to swat at her, but each time its paw became weaker.
They locked eyes again, and the emerald eyes that had seemed so menacing in the darkness now looked frightened. She pushed the spear-end in as far as it would go before hitting bone. She wanted the cat to die quickly, for its pain to be over that very moment, but it took a while for the cat to go still. When it finally died, its eyes were still open, staring at her.
THE JUNGLE
NOW THEY KNOW TO FEAR US
Sha’di awoke shivering. It wasn’t the dream. He always had the same dream, more or less. The people he’d left behind, the people he had watched die, would always look on as he made his way to the burning woman in the Rhagepe’s Temple. The dream used to disturb him, but now he had come to expect it. Now, it felt reassuring to see Tanuk’s pale face in the crowd, his neck painted red not from dye but the blood pouring from the gash where the jaguar had bit into him.
He didn’t know why he was shivering. It was hot. The jungle was always moist and sticky with heat, and the small band of people he travelled with wore little more than loincloths and looked comfortable, even happy, with the temperature. For the last few days though, he’d wrapped his Ancestral Cloak tightly around himself, shivering as he ate some fruit before they set off.
When they had left Chultunyu all those turns of the moon ago, they had a hundred or more people travelling with them. There were lesser lords, called chakatl, servants, and guards. They had carried tents, food, and all the amenities to be comfortable in the jungle, but once Tanuk-chib’atl had died, most of them had returned to Chultunyu, scurrying back to the end of the jungle with their lord’s bones. Only seven remained, eight if you counted his falcon, Nnenne. They were a ragged band, the red dye his Petzuhallpa companions wore on their jaws, hands, and legs were beginning to fade. Once it had been bright like blood fresh from a wound, but now it was dark, like well-trodden mud. Their bodies had suffered as well, becoming thinner. Their long, black hair had lost its luster and had begun to tangle and mat.
Tenok-huitl, the younger brother of the dead chib’atl, had been one of the seven to stay, as well as Belam, one of the warriors Sha’di had befriended. Most perplexing of all was the fact that Xupama, the only one of the Petzuhallpa fluent in the tongue of the Whisperers, had stayed. Xupama liked to believe he was a great lord and wore his finest jewels and sneered at everyone as they struggled through the thick foliage. Sha’di realized it was probably at Tenok’s request the proud man had remained, to help Sha’di if he needed it.
He had barely spoken to Tenok since they’d left Chub’al, the last pyramid they had rested at. They had arrived at Chub’al nearly a full turn of the moon after the jaguar attack. Two men had died when the black jaguar had leapt from the darkness of the jungle, but a third had passed a few days later. The bite on his arm had become infected and turned the same colour as the trees around them. He had been delirious with pain. Qayset had no medicine to cure him, but she had a poison that would help with his passing. He slept peacefully his last night, and in the morning his body had been cold.
Qayset had worn the jaguar pelt as she walked with them. She was a dark, unnerving presence to the men of Chultunyu—one of the Ilotz’ai, the uncoloured, people who lived in the jungle and held no allegiance to the Petzuhallpa. They looked at her as if she were not a person but a dark spirit.
She had killed the jaguar. Sha’di often wondered how many more men would have died if she had not been there. Then again, maybe the jaguar never would have crossed their path had she not been hunting it. Even though no one said it, he knew that was the reason she had given them medicine, why she had led them on a safer journey to Chub’al. There was an atonement to be made. And as for the pelt, Tenok had asked her to wear it, perhaps not having the strength to do so himself.
“My people wear jaguar head bones,” Sha’di had told her as they swam through the dense trees one day.
The rain had still been heavy in the sky then. He had never worn a skull before, of a jaguar or any animal, because he had never hunted big game. If it hadn’t been for Nnenne, he doubted he would have been able to feed himself with his hunting skills. He thought he still looked rather impressive, though. His hooded Ancestral Cloak, human bones tied to camel skin. His hair and beard, although a little longer and wilder than he would have liked, was red. Perhaps their differences were what made him gravitate towards her.
Her skin was untouched jasper. Her hair short, the same shade as the jaguar she wore. She had claws pierced through her nose and ears, ones she’d collected from hunts, which she also wore on a necklace around her neck. Her arms and legs were covered in leather straps and small pouches. She was lithe and fie
rce—and the first woman he’d spoken to since leaving his tribe behind at the temple.
Qayset had taken point, and the way she moved through the jungle made everyone else look like clumsy children stuck in mud. She seemed to know where all the hidden potholes were located, the easiest ways through the trees, and the best paths to take to avoid spending all your time hacking at vines. They would have arrived at Chub’al days earlier because of her guidance, but the weight of the men’s bones they carried seemed to slow them down. They would spend longer periods taking breaks, sullenly staring into the dark of the jungle. More men were posted on guard duty, and too often, there were false alarms keeping everyone awake at night. Their troubled sleep would all too often mean they restarted their journey at nearly mid-day.
“Skull? Why?” Qayset had finally asked, polite enough to engage in conversation with him, but not polite enough to actually look at him, more focused on walking.
His mastery of their language was still subpar, so he had to think a moment before answering. “To show first kill. Bones important, skin…nothing. Why wear skin?” Sha’di asked, though he had to admit seeing the black cloak on her was a striking addition to her already dark and intense features.
“You wear skin,” she smirked, looking at his leather Ancestral Cloak.
“It is…different,” he said defensively.
She pointed into the trees. “Other jaguars are watching,” she smiled. Sha’di took a step back, afraid for a moment another jaguar was about to jump out and attack, but Qayset only smiled. “They see me wear their skin. Now they know to fear us.”
She had given the pelt back to Tenok the day they had finally arrived at Chub’al. The young huitl had taken it without a word, and with Sha’di, Xupama, and a few others, climbed the pyramid painted in the colours of sunbeams and leaves. This pyramid was wider than it was tall and reached the top, which was full of half-drowned lords. Sha’di had wondered if there were any young lords living here who had laughed at them climbing the pyramid that morning, trying to keep their headdresses dry.
The Chub’al-na-huitl, another fat man covered in jewels, his skin dyed the bright pale shade of the sun with leafy dots on his face and arms, reclined in his stone throne as one of the lords began the long, drawn-out introduction Sha’di was becoming accustomed to hearing at these meetings.
“Hail, Chub’al-na-huitl!” Hail the Chief of the Path, came the dry, disinterested voice of one of the older chakatls standing to the side of the throne, “who carries his nephew’s standard in his stead, he who sees the way, he who hunts the jaguar…” Before he could go on any further, Tenok had thrown the jaguar’s pelt down in a fury at the huitl’s feet.
“We have hunted the jaguar in your stead, Chub’al-na-huitl!” Tenok’s voice cracked as he shrieked at the perplexed man, “but not before it hunted us on your lands! My brother is dead!”
And the others had come forward, carrying the carefully wrapped bones of Tanuk, and the two others who had died. The only sound anyone could hear for a moment was the rain hitting the stones of the pyramid.
Places were arranged for them to stay, Qayset disappearing into the jungle once more as Tenok disappeared in the pyramid. The first night, the priests had stood atop the pyramid, chanting until the sun rose again. Apparently it was to honour the dead, to help their souls find their way through to the caves of the dead after being lost in the jungle for so long.
For a long time after, alone as he was most of the time, Sha’di feared the inevitable. Without Tanuk to lead them, there was no point for these men to continue towards Chipetzuha. Already many in the retinue were making plans for their return. He might hope to follow some hunters travelling north to the next pyramid and so on, until finally reaching his destination. However, he knew that method would drag out his journey even longer, and it already seemed like such an impossible distance. All he could do was wait and hope. His patience had been fruitful; eventually seven of them did leave Chub’al, continuing their journey north, while the others returned south with the bones of the dead.
Already the first full moon of Pekari had passed since leaving Chub’al, and he wondered how many more he would have to watch wax and wane before they arrived at Chipetzuha to finally lay eyes on the Red Pyramid and the ruler who lived there. She was the reason for his journey. The gods had tasked him with the job of seeking out the ruler of this land, to warn them to change their ways or be destroyed by angry gods.
As Sha’di sat alone while they camped, with only his falcon Nnenne perched on his shoulder, he stared out into the darkness of the jungle and imagined pulling the leaves aside to see the smear of red before him. Not the smear of blood this time, but the red of a bonfire calling him home.
“What’s wrong?” Belam asked. It was early morning, and the warrior was sitting near Sha’di roasting something they had hunted the day before on a small fire. The men from Cultunyu had red dye on their jaws as well as their legs and hands. When they had first left Chultunyu, they had all been bright and excited, but now their moods had faded, much like the dye on their bronze skin. Belam was short and stocky, his shoulders wide and muscled, and he kept his long black hair tied back. He looked like he could probably kill a jaguar just by wrestling it—especially since wrestling was one of Belam’s favourite past-times.
“Wrong?” Sha’di winced as he looked towards the bright light coming from the fire. “My head…hurts.”
“Hmm, a headache?” Belam liked teaching him new words. Tenok used to be the same way, always eager to help the Whisperer. The two of them had spent long days walking together, teaching each other their own tongue, but now Tenok barely spoke to anyone and never smiled. He probably wouldn’t have eaten if it weren’t for the others reminding him. “You need meat.”
Sha’di’s face scrunched up in distaste and Belam laughed. It had become a well-worn joke how Sha’di did not—or could not—eat meat. Sha’di used to eat meat. In the desert it was impossible to survive otherwise. It wasn’t until he’d seen the first sacrifice at Chultunyu, when he saw the priests hold down a young boy as they ripped out his bloody, beating heart and held it up to the gods, that he stopped eating meat. Now, the smell of it turned his stomach.
“I need…to reach Red Pyramid,” Sha’di said with a nod, though the movement immediately made his head feel worse. Maybe Belam was right. Maybe he should eat some meat.
Belam cut off a few pieces and threw them to Nnenne, who hopped down to Sha’di’s feet. She wore a tiny, leather hood but could smell the bits that fell near her, and she flapped her wings excitedly as she pecked at the scraps. Sha’di always ate beans, fruit, or some of the corn the Petzuhallpa were so fond of. Though right now, even the thought of eating something simple was turning his stomach.
He caught sight of Tenok, entering the camp’s small clearing from the jungle, probably having just returning from a nature break. Tenok had always been rather small in stature. Compared to the broad shoulders of his older brother, Tenok had never looked terribly impressive, but now he hunched over like a wilting tree. His cheeks were sunken and his arms were bony. He nodded to the men, but said nothing. Sha’di rubbed his pounding head, trying to remember if they had had a single conversation since leaving Chub’al.
Sha’di and Tenok had spoken after Tanuk’s death just once, before anyone knew what they were going to do now that Tanuk was dead and their journey to Chipetzuha had failed barely halfway to their destination. The memory came back now.
“Did my brother ever tell you about the day Koyo was born?” Tenok hadn’t bothered to say hello or anything. His mind was clearly elsewhere as he stood atop the fat pyramid, looking out over the small village beneath them. Sha’di and he were the same height, though Tenok seemed taller because of his elongated skull. Xupama had told him those of the royal blood had their heads bound as babies to change the shape of their skulls. Sha’di had assumed the spidery man had been making a sick joke, until he had seen Tanuk’s misshapen skull stripped of its flesh. The
y had changed their appearances to be closer to their gods.
“The elder son?” Sha’di asked, trying to remember the name of Tanuk’s two young boys, boys now without a mother or a father.
“Yes. When Koyo was born, I’d never seen him so nervous or so happy,” Tenok had smiled. “Can you imagine him shaking with so much energy he couldn’t hold a cup without spilling its contents? I counted. Five drinks. He kept asking for a drink to calm his nerves and kept knocking it over or dropping it. I kept laughing at him.”
The morning mist still carried a chill with it. The rainy season had dropped the temperature considerably. After a turn of the moon resting at Chub’al, the rainy season had waned and the days had become mostly dry—unless you counted humidity. The mornings still had Sha’di wrapping his cloak around his body, wishing he had the real Nnenne to curl up next to, instead of his bird companion cooing prettily on his shoulder. The memory of his conversation faded and suddenly all he could see in his mind was Nnenne.
Nnenne, the real Nnenne, came to his mind often, and it always made him feel at peace. Just thinking about the naked curves of her body, his headache was forgotten for a moment. He opened his mouth and thought he could taste her in the air, a mix of salty sweat and a sweet earthy scent. His stomach growled and Belam laughed again. Sha’di got to his feet, scooping Nnenne the falcon up and placing her on the perch of his shoulder.
He went towards the jungle, but stopped. The others were around small campfires, talking to each other and sharing roasted meat and tangy fruit. Only Xupama and Tenok sat alone. No one was paying Sha’di any mind, but still, he felt eyes staring at him, and the eyes seemed to make his head hurt more intensely. He felt a strong twist in his stomach and went quickly between the trees. He relieved himself, rather painfully, as he squatted down and grabbed a tree for support. There was no doubt that something in his diet had not agreed with him recently. He stood to return but felt dizzy, and he had to grab onto a tree.
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 6