The sentinels stopped at the edge of Kayuya Village, but remained to watch her leave.
Colibrí glanced over her shoulder at them, then in the direction of Yabisi’s caney. She sighed a heartbeat later, and began to walk back to her bohío. The screams surged close, filling the silence with their terrible noise and pounding into her head like stormwater. She scowled and rubbed her forehead, then, when they refused to be pushed back, dug her fingernails into her brow.
Colibrí’s ears twitched and she sighed in defeat. Sleep would be out of her reach yet again, but maybe that was for the best.
She needed to do some thinking.
Chapter 8
The next day was the day of the Feats. Narune again woke early and sat around practically bursting with excitement while his mother took her turn preparing breakfast. Kisari came not long after to help, then the three of them had a pleasant meal together while the sun finished its own rise.
“Come say goodbye,” his mother said to him when he was ready to leave.
When he drew near, she cupped Narune’s chin and gazed thoughtfully into his eyes. Kisari stood a polite distance away, watching them while a hand toyed with the tendrils in her unbraided hair.
“Will you come?” Narune asked his mother.
She didn’t respond, but her expression tightened, and Narune knew her well enough to guess at her thoughts. You’re deciding whether or not to forbid me from going, he said into her mind. Or maybe compelling me to stay?
A smile touched her lips. Would you hate me if I did?
Forever.
Colibrí chuckled and then leaned close, pressing her forehead against his, and closed her eyes. Will you tell me why you want to become a spiritseer, then?
Narune tensed and knew she could see the memories and thoughts he reflexively clutched away from her. But it was pointless; there wasn't anything Narune could do if his mother wanted to see them, and that was without considering that she could just compel him into telling her.
She did neither. Oh, Naru. You make motherhood so difficult.
Sorry… he said sheepishly. I’ll tell you someday, I promise. Just… not now.
I'll hold you to that, my love. She said it lightly, and opened her eyes to smile at him. I wish, with all my strength, that you would stay and forget about the Ritual, but I won’t stand in the way of your story. I can’t go; Yabisi would stop me. She doesn’t even want you there.
I know, he said. But this is for me and not her.
Colibrí’s smiled widened ever slightly, then she ran a hand through his hair for a moment. Stormless days, Narune.
Narune turned to Kisari who watched them with an envious smile. They stepped out into the sunshine and made their way to Kayuya Village.
“Everyone was surprised to see you at the Calling yesterday,” Kisari said. “There was a lot of gossip when they let you answer and take a place among the hopeful.”
Narune laughed. “Gossip is the whole point of the Calling. Everyone comes to see who answers and make guesses on who’ll remain by the end.”
Their conversation soon shifted away from the Calling, leaving them talking about pleasant, pointless things as they followed the beach to Kayuya Village, where they found Ixchel waiting for them. The three of them then made their way to the Proving Grounds together.
The Trueborn treated them a little bit better with Ixchel between them, but the faces Narune spotted were openly curious—and not in a good way. It seemed that many of them had expected the Circle’s elders to outright refuse him.
They gathered back at the Proving Grounds with everyone else. Kisari wished them the Guardian’s favor again, squeezing their hands, then left for the viewing platforms. The arena was just as packed as the day before, the voices in the air loud and joyful.
“Are you scared?” Ixchel said to him, elbowing him within the group of other youths.
“A little,” he admitted. “My heart is beating like a drum. You?”
“No, but my stomach is making a lot of strange noises.” She frowned. “I’m sure it’s because I forgot to eat breakfast.”
Narune laughed, then turned as a hush fell and the elders returned. The spiritseers spread in a half-circle, Tessouat at the center, and regarded the youths. A cluster of sages waited to either side.
“Welcome,” Tessouat said, arms spreading wide. “We are pleased to see that so many youths have answered our Calling, but this is often so, for we are a great people whose courage is unquestionable. Today, however, we look not for the obvious, but for the exceptional; those who spirits will never break. But first, the sages will come and tell you how your blood, which mimics the waters of your spirit, interacts with the Flows of Creation. Once this is done, we will immediately begin the Feats.”
At this, the sages stepped forward. He and Ixchel waited together, trembling with excitement. Sanemoro was the sage that had come to them yesterday, to their immeasurable joy, and it was he who would have to deliver their news today.
“Oi, hurry up, Sanemoro!” Ixchel shouted before he was anywhere near, and only shrugged when Narune gave her a look.
Sanemoro nipped at them by making a great show of slowness, stopping to smooth the sleeveless green robes of his calling, or to stretch his back. By the time he made his way to them, Narune was sure Ixchel was of a mind to literally bite back.
“Well, how are you two this pleasant day?” Sanemoro asked as he finally approached.
Ixchel scowled. “Just tell us old man!”
“Old?” Sanemoro frowned. “Wizened, maybe. Regally matured, possibly. But old?”
“Sanemoro!” Narune cried, tail whipping quickly back and forth behind him.
“Fine, fine.” The sage paused. “I am supposed to tell you individually, so—”
“We’ll tell each other anyway,” Ixchel interrupted. “Right, Narune?”
He nodded.
Sanemoro sighed, but then shrugged. “Very well. Both of you have blood strongly in rhythm with the Flows of Creation, which means your spirits should be too. Ixchel, your spirit appears as if it will resonate very well; spellcrafting should be a little easier for you. As for Narune, yours resonates ever slightly less than most others, but that should not be an issue. It just means you will have to work a little harder to keep your Flow under control.”
Ixchel, of course, still gave a haughty laugh. “See? Even my spirit is amazing.” She stuck out her chest and beamed.
Narune rolled his eyes. “You’re not a spiritseer yet.”
“When will we know our Flows?” she asked while prodding Narune’s belly, her face set with smugness.
“When you become spiritseers and first use your sorcery.” Sanemoro shrugged. “Though only Narune’s Flow should be a mystery; based on what Ixchel’s blood has shown me, her spirit favors the Celestial Flow strongly enough to be a safe guess.”
“Ha!” Ixchel said proudly. “But how come you can’t guess Narune’s Flow?”
Narune was thinking the same thing, though it wasn’t something he had considered before.
“Because his spirit favors none of the Flows. Of course, for Halfborn, who have, uh, complicated spirits, this is supposedly not so unusual, but… well, best we wait and see before I stir your hopes without reason. You could technically end up with any of the Flows.” Sanemoro reached out and thumped their shoulders. “Well, I wish you luck in the Feats.” He left them, moving through the crowd of youths.
Narune watched him leave, ears flattened against the cheers and excited shouts of onlookers and participants. The rest of the notch passed without event, but sometime during it, Ixchel went hunting for gossip from the other youths—who were still very careful to keep their distance from him. She eventually returned and began telling him about the Flows the others had been aligned with, and her guesses or disappointments about them; things Narune had no interest in.
There were a few who considered what the sages had told them and, in the end, turned away from the Ritual; maybe they disliked t
heir Flow or worried over the possible weakness of their spirit.
After that was dealt with, the elders gathered them together again and prepared them for the Feats. The objective was simple: endure until the end.
Ixchel wrapped an arm around Narune’s shoulders as she glanced up at the platforms filled with spectators. The cacica continued to watch them as she had all morning from her private section of the topmost platform, but her interest went little beyond politeness. Narune didn’t know what to make of her apathy, but what else was there to do but focus on the Ritual? Maybe she simply expected him to fail, or maybe she thought no one would choose him and that would make him give up. He found himself hoping either was the answer.
“Stay with me?” Ixchel asked. She reached up and patted him on the head. “I’ll keep you from quitting.”
Narune gave her a look. “Oh? And what will you say when I’m carrying you at the end?”
“‘Faster, you’re too slow,’ is what.”
Narune couldn’t help but laugh as she waggled her eyebrows, then waited while the spiritseers began splitting them into groups. It was at this point that the cacica left with her personal guard, as did some of the onlookers. They would come and go, because the Feats lasted all day.
The spiritseers formally announced the beginning of the Feats, then moved forward to form groups. A spiritseer pointed to Narune and Ixchel and several others, gathered them together, then started shouting commands. Narune knew the spiritseers would try to break them, and then wait to see how many of them kept going anyway.
Mostly they ran; and ran, and ran. Spiritseers followed, long poles of wood in their hands, which they used to prod and poke at everyone. They were acting as the judges and took to the task with grim seriousness.
After running for several notches of the day, the groups were told to lift cut lengths of root-road and slowly carry them across the Proving Grounds. Then they ran again before circling back to the root bundles—and this time they were told to run while carrying them.
It took only a few more notches before Narune decided he hated having legs and feet; inside the daydream haze he sheltered within, he imagined life as a slug or worm. They didn’t have to run.
His body trembled with pain and the agonizing burn of fatigue. His chest hurt from all the heavy breathing, and he was drenched in sweat. Ixchel stayed at his side, using him to pace herself and probably not realizing that he was using her the same way, so they slowed and sped up as one.
All of her smugness and eagerness had withered during the first notch. Now, she wore the same expression of doubt as everyone else, eyes lit with indecision over whether or not all this was worth it.
Narune didn’t share that indecision—it simply wasn’t an option to him—but he didn’t see them as weak, either. Many of them could just as easily excel as warriors and find honor and glory there.
Some of the others had already collapsed; a few had given up. The spiritseers didn’t hound them. Anyone who continued to make a genuine attempt was left in peace, even if that just meant trembling as they struggled to get back onto their feet.
Eventually, they were given the chance to rest—or something like it.
Ixchel, Narune, and the others were seated, then given waterskins. A moment later they were handed war rations, which were lumps mostly made of berries, seeds, and boiled maize that had been mashed together.
Then, the sages came and placed a box in front of each of them.
“What is this?” Ixchel said warily. Narune had never heard her sound more exhausted.
“A puzzle,” he replied, recognizing the box. Sanemoro had given him a few like this before. “Sages and spiritseers use these to hone their minds the way warriors train to hone their bodies.”
“So…?” Ixchel muttered.
“For this kind, you just have to take it apart. See the mark on the outside? That means there are ten pieces, and the outer box is the tenth.”
“Narune,” Ixchel said suddenly, her tone serious. “Please, just knife me across the throat. You’re the only one I can trust to do it painlessly.”
“Stop saying such dark things. Here, I’ll help you.”
“Is that allowed?”
“Yes; the only rule is that we aren’t allowed to give up, really. So make sure to actually think so they don’t come and prod you with the stick.”
“Ugh,” she said.
“Oi, what did I say would happen at the end?”
Ixchel smiled. “True, and I answered.”
“Ixchel.”
“I’ll help. But it’s not fair; you tire more slowly because you’re Halfborn.”
He glared at her. “Stop talking.”
They worked on the puzzles together, but were interrupted every so often to come to a throwing game. The game had them spin smooth stones into crevices made from larger stones pressed together; it was popular among sproutlings. Narune scratched his head at the pointlessness of it, but did as he was told.
Ixchel, on the other hand, was pleased. “I like this much better,” she said to him, laughing.
They did this until they had ten stones in, which took a little while, then were sent back to the puzzles. It was then that Narune groaned and realized that the purpose of the throwing game was to disrupt the flow of their thoughts. Narune sighed, then sat back down with Ixchel and tried to think back over what they had already tried with their puzzles.
Another two notches passed like this, then they were forced to run again. Narune joined Ixchel’s misery by this point, his muscles screaming at him. Their movements quickly became stiff and thoughtless, his legs moving on their own, his arms lifting the lengths of root without thought. Many of the others had fallen by this point and not many of them were trying to get back up.
It was almost dusk when Tessouat finally called a halt.
Narune collapsed onto the soil of the Proving Grounds and Ixchel fell on top of him.
“Off,” he groaned, but was too exhausted to add much energy to the demand.
“You make a surprisingly good mat,” she said breathlessly. “Besides, I know you’re too tired to push me off.”
He was, so instead he rubbed his forehead into the dirt and groaned. Ixchel groaned. A lot of the other youths around them also groaned.
Tessouat clapped his hands. “Well, I see that the number of hopefuls has diminished. Unfortunately, that was only the first half of the Feats. Return with a proof of your feat, earned and not stolen, and you will have a place at the Duels.”
Narune closed his eyes for a brief moment, yet somehow spent an eternity thinking about never opening them again.
He had forgotten about the actual feat, different each time, that they were supposed to accomplish in spite of their broken selves.
“Out on the sea,” Tessouat continued, gesturing toward the beach. The current onlookers turned with him, but not many of the remaining youths bothered, “is a pole. From it hangs the tokens of proof. You have a notch to return with one.”
Ixchel slowly rose. “Come on, Narune.”
But he only flopped on the ground, ears and tail limp. “I’ll drown if I go out into the sea.”
“That’s the point, I think,” she said. When he frowned and looked up at her, she shrugged. “They want to see if we’re willing to face danger despite being exhausted. It makes sense; there’s nothing left after the spiritseers. They’re both our first strike and last line of defense. If they give up then others just die instead.”
There was a deep truth in those words. Narune even envied her a little bit, because speaking them made her sound mature and wise, but he didn’t tell her this. “Fine, Ixchel. At least I won’t have to worry about the pain if I drown.”
She laughed and slapped him on his bottom. “Hush, and come on.”
They rose together and took a moment to let their blood and breaths settle. Narune glanced around and saw considerably fewer participants, but more spectators. They knew that this was the real spectacle of the day, bu
t it was also one where lives could be lost and would-be warriors wasted.
A lot of the faces watching them were anxious.
Kisari was among them, seated alone; he was surprised she was still there, but of course she would be. Had she left at all? He felt terrible for not having noticed…
Kisari met his gaze, grinned, and made a gesture of encouragement.
Ixchel laughed, having followed his gaze to Kisari. “She’s too good a friend.”
“Yes,” Narune agreed with a tired smile.
They moved with a few of the others toward the beach that was maybe a short sprint away from the Proving Grounds, itself a part of the space reserved for training.
Narune was a skilled swimmer, but that experience only filled him with caution. He was almost certain he was too tired to make it far… and, as he squinted and gazed off into a horizon that was even now becoming red and pink, the thick wooden pole looked more than far.
“Eh,” Ixchel said at his side. “Maybe this is a bad idea after all.”
But they both began to wade into the water. Spiritseers stood along the beach, watching with solemn faces, and sages stood among them, including Sanemoro. He beamed at them as if Narune and Ixchel had already come back with the tokens of proof, which he admitted made him feel a bit more confident.
Narune and Ixchel moved their arms in slow, measured strokes. Narune stayed close to her and told himself it was to make sure he could help if she started drowning, but he hoped she might save him if the opposite happened. The truth was that they would probably both just drown.
Halfway there.
Every muscle in his body groaned. They wouldn’t really let us drown, would they? Ixchel was breathing heavily beside him, her gaze distant and unfocused, her movements again stiff and thoughtless.
Three quarters.
He could see the pole better now, weathered and salt-crusted, made of the ever-resilient wood from a fallen tree-lord. It was on a smudge of an island, a cay. That island blossomed into a glorious paradise within his mind.
Cradle of Sea and Soil Page 8
