Serpent and Storm

by Marella Sands

  The two warriors took a last look around the square and followed Rabbit behind another compound.

  “Go!” urged Talking Storm. Sky Knife and the other priest ran across to the other building. Sky Knife tried to keep up, but his injured feet slowed him down on the uneven terrain. Talking Storm reached the building far ahead of him.

  The other priest closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his forehead. Talking Storm chanted in a language Sky Knife didn’t understand.

  Soon screams came from inside the building. Warriors and ballplayers ran out without looking left or right and disappeared into the alleys around the building.

  Sky Knife ran into the compound when the last of the screaming men passed by him, leaving the chanting Talking Storm at the door.

  Inside, all was still. The courtyard seemed peaceful despite the hundreds of flint- and obsidian-tipped spears leaning against the walls. Rolled-up leather shields lay in piles and several feather cloaks rested draped over benches. Three small temples lined the east wall. Stone sculptures of the Fire God sat in between the temples.

  Sky Knife ran into the first room on his right. Inside, more supplies lay stacked on the floor or leaned against walls. At Sky Knife’s feet was a black ceramic bowl full of eccentric flints. Sky Knife picked one up. The stone had been carefully chipped to form a human figure.

  Sky Knife put the flint down gently. At home, this would have been a treasure worthy of the king or even Itzamna himself. It must be part of the wealth Dark Lightning had accumulated or his warriors had stolen last night—wealth intended to finance his first days on the mat of rulership.

  A rattle startled him. Sky Knife turned, expecting to see that Dark Lightning’s men had returned. But it was not a man that faced him. It was a snake.

  Sky Knife looked at the courtyard again. Snakes, all of them dusty brown with rattles at the ends of their tails, squirmed and moved in every corner, on every pile of supplies. Sky Knife froze in terror as the snake in front of him stared at him.

  The snake slithered past him into the room. It made no sound other than its rattle. Sky Knife relaxed. This must be the result of Talking Storm’s magic. The snake was not truly here—but it was still frightening. No wonder the others had run out of the building so quickly.

  Sky Knife ignored the snake and scanned the room for the objects of his search. Neither Rabbit’s jewelry nor Sky Knife’s blade were there. Sky Knife listened carefully, but he heard nothing from Deer, either. He searched several more rooms, and in each found baskets and bowls full of supplies.

  Finally, Sky Knife had searched all the rooms.

  “Deer!” he shouted, fear gnawing at his heart. He had no idea how long Talking Storm’s sorcery would keep Dark Lightning’s people away, though the snakes were certainly realistic. Sky Knife had to keep reminding himself not to bother stepping over them. When he did step on them, they melted away like the snow Amaranth had shown him on his first day here. As soon as he picked his foot up, they reformed and went about their business.

  “My friend!” came a muffled reply.

  Sky Knife looked around for the source of the sound, but he didn’t see anything.

  “Talk to me!” Sky Knife called. “I can’t find you.”

  The muffled voice of Deer rose in a song. Sky Knife walked around the building, listening, hoping to find the place where the sound was loudest.

  Behind the small temples in the courtyard, he stopped. The sound had to be coming from around here. Sky Knife got down on his knees.

  “Deer!” he called again when the wavering voice faltered. “Keep singing.”

  Deer continued his song with renewed vigor, but weakened quickly. It was enough. Behind the third small pyramid, the sound was loudest. Sky Knife ran his hands over the back of the pyramid.

  One of the blocks was loose. Sky Knife grabbed a spear and tried to pry the block out of place, but the obsidian blade snapped. Sky Knife got another spear, this one with a flint blade.

  The flint worked well. Within moments, Sky Knife had pried the block out far enough to grasp it with fingertips. He wiggled the stone back and forth until it came free.

  “Deer?” he asked.

  “Yes,” came a weary reply.

  Sky Knife leaned down and looked inside the hollow temple. The smell of blood and sweat hit him in the face and he sneezed. Inside the temple, it was too dark for him to make out anything. Sky Knife reached inside and felt warm flesh. A shoulder.

  Sky Knife reached in with both hands and grabbed Deer under both arms. He pulled the other man out of his prison.

  Deer was so pale Sky Knife was afraid he had died while Sky Knife pulled him out. But Deer’s chest rose and fell steadily.

  Sky Knife closed his eyes and groaned. Deer’s arms ended at his wrists. The wounds had been bandaged so that Sky Knife could not see or know how well they had been treated.

  “Come,” said Sky Knife. “I have to get you out of here.”

  “Waiting,” said Deer. “Waiting for you.”

  “I came,” said Sky Knife. “And I’ve got help.”

  Clunk.

  Sky Knife turned at the sound, fear leaping up in his heart. The warriors and ballplayers had come back, surely.

  But the courtyard remained empty. Sky Knife looked around. Perhaps a spear had fallen.

  Clunk.

  The sound came from the center temple. From inside it.

  “Hold on, I’m coming,” said Sky Knife. He had no idea who else might be trapped here, but he had to get them out.

  The center block was easier to move than the one guarding Deer’s prison. Sky Knife moved it out and reached inside.

  His hands didn’t find flesh but a cold obsidian blade. It warmed instantly in his hand. Sky Knife’s hand closed around the familiar handle and retrieved the blade. It was his.

  Sky Knife reached in again and felt cold stone beads. Sky Knife drew out a handful. It was Rabbit’s jewelry. He reached in and pulled everything out. It was all here, from the ear spools down to the hematite necklace. Even the clothing, the deerskin bag that held the Hand of God, and the feather headdress were here.

  Sky Knife put the blade in the bag and tied it around his waist. He dumped some obsidian blades out of a basket and replaced them with the jewelry, clothes, and feathers. The blades made bright clattery sounds as they shattered against the pavement of the courtyard.

  Sky Knife took a sash and fashioned a tumpline around the basket. He hefted the bundle onto his back and wrapped the sash around his forehead. Then he bent down to pick up Deer.

  “Itzamna, give me strength,” he said. He put his arms under Deer’s shoulders and knees and lifted.

  But the other man was too heavy, Sky Knife too tired. The wound in his thigh screamed at the added weight and his knee buckled under him. The wounds in his chest split open again and Sky Knife felt warm blood soaking the tunic he wore. Sky Knife dropped Deer a couple of inches to the floor.

  “I’m sorry, my friend,” he said. “I’ll have to get help.”

  “Get out,” said Deer deliriously. “Waiting. Waiting.”

  Sky Knife touched Deer’s hair once briefly, then ran to the entrance and Talking Storm. The priest still stood by the door chanting.

  “Talking Storm,” said Sky Knife, “I found Deer, but I can’t carry him. You’ll have to.”

  Talking Storm put down his hands and stilled his voice. Sky Knife glanced back into the courtyard. The snakes melted away and did not return.

  “Where is he?” asked Talking Storm.

  “Behind the small temples on the east wall,” said Sky Knife.

  Talking Storm nodded and went into the building. Sky Knife drew out his knife and waited, hoping the warriors would not return for a few minutes yet.

  A warrior in feather and jade finery rounded the corner of the compound. Mirror. The warrior froze as he recognized Sky Knife.

  “You—you should be dead,” said Mirror.

  Sky Knife took a step forward. “Surrender
yourself to me, traitor,” he said in his best priestly voice, though he knew he looked more like a servant than a priest with a tumpline wrapped around his head.

  Mirror took a step backward, frowning.

  Sky Knife raised the Hand of God to Mirror. “Don’t move,” he said. “Or I will strike you down where you stand. I will curse you to the lowest underworld where the Bolon ti ku will dance on your skull and their dogs will fight over your entrails. Your flesh will burn and then freeze until it flakes away from your bones and you will scream into eternity.”

  Mirror hesitated. He had been present when Sky Knife had healed Talking Storm yesterday—Sky Knife just hoped Mirror was still impressed enough to believe the threat.

  Mirror looked doubtful. “The Masked One will protect me from you,” he said, but it was almost a question.

  “She will not,” said Sky Knife. He hoped the Masked One would not be angered at his presumption. “The Masked One seeks out justice in the world, and nurtures a mother’s love for her children. What you have done today makes her turn her face from you.”

  Mirror opened his mouth, then closed it. Sky Knife took a step forward, afraid to give the other man time to think. He was too weak to carry out his threat—he just had to hope Mirror would believe him.

  “All right, all right,” said Mirror, real fear in his face. “I am your prisoner. Please, don’t curse me to the underworlds. A warrior belongs in heaven.”

  “Perhaps not you,” said Sky Knife. “Not after what you’ve done.”

  Mirror visibly deflated.

  Talking Storm came out of the building carrying Deer. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I have a prisoner to take to Grasping Fire,” said Sky Knife. “Perhaps we can learn Dark Lightning’s plans from him.”

  “Fine,” said Talking Storm. “Let’s go.”

  Talking Storm led the way across the square and into the narrow alleys in between the apartment compounds. Mirror followed, Sky Knife’s blade inches from his back.

  Several blocks from Dark Lightning’s headquarters, Rabbit joined them. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of Mirror but said nothing.

  Talking Storm hurried and Sky Knife struggled to keep the pace. He couldn’t let Mirror realize how weak he was.

  All around him, he heard screams. Dark Lightning’s forces must be fighting with Grasping Fire’s. Sky Knife prayed Grasping Fire’s men would maintain their hold on the center of the city.

  “Serpent and storm,” cursed Talking Storm as he broke out onto the main avenue near the Storm God’s pyramid. “The palace!”

  Sky Knife stepped onto the avenue behind Mirror. “Itzamna!” he gasped.

  The palace was engulfed in flames.

  IV

  Come, let us rejoice

  By the flowering vine

  By the sweet-smelling vine.

  Hear the birds piping

  Hear all the birds singing to the gods of the heavens.

  Come, let us join them,

  By the flowering vine

  By the sweet-smelling vine.

  But my heart is too weary for hymns—

  Far away birds are singing to the gods of the heavens.

  How long must I bear my sorrow

  By the flowering vine

  By the sweet-smelling vine?

  How long before I rest my soul

  Beneath the birds that are singing to the gods of the heavens?

  Corn Priest, His Poem

  26

  In the avenue, some people watched, horrified, while others screamed and ran. A few milled about in confusion. Sky Knife looked, but saw no warriors nearby from either camp.

  Mirror laughed. “See the fruits of your labors?” he asked. “Soon you’ll be my prisoners.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” said Talking Storm. “Come—this way.”

  Talking Storm led them past the milling crowd to the Storm God’s pyramid at the north end of the avenue. The midafternoon sun beat down heavily on Sky Knife’s trembling shoulders. He bit his lip and pressed on.

  But Talking Storm’s pace had slowed, too. Carrying Deer was tiring him, no doubt. Sky Knife was relieved not to be pressed so hard. Shooting pains radiated from his leg, forcing him to favor one leg ever more heavily than the other.

  The Storm God’s pyramid loomed over them, not as large as the Masked One’s pyramid, but still as tall as a mountain.

  “No one will disturb us on its holy slopes,” said Talking Storm. He started up the steps for the summit.

  Mirror hesitated. “I am a servant of the Masked One,” he said. “Touching the Storm God’s pyramid will defile me.”

  Sky Knife poked Mirror in the back with his blade. “Too bad,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Mirror refused to move forward. “I can’t.”

  Sky Knife scratched Mirror with his blade. Bright red blood trickled down Mirror’s back. The warrior flinched.

  “Go or stay here forever,” said Sky Knife. Already, Talking Storm was almost halfway up the pyramid. Rabbit stood about ten steps up, looking back.

  “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen,” said Mirror. “I’m not supposed to be alone.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Sky Knife. “Alone where?”

  Mirror turned to face him. “Alone with you. The headquarters was supposed to be a trap. After you escaped, Dark Lightning figured you’d return for the twin.”

  “He didn’t think I’d have help? Or did he assume I’d escaped by myself?” asked Sky Knife.

  “He said you could do mighty things, that it had been a mistake to leave you without a guard.”

  “It certainly was,” agreed Sky Knife. “Come on, up the steps.”

  Mirror looked around helplessly. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen,” he said again.

  “I don’t care,” said Sky Knife, still fighting to keep Mirror from noticing how much pain he was in. But he was too tired to keep it up. The bundle on his back seemed to get heavier and heavier and the pull from the tumpline had tired his neck and shoulders.

  Mirror saw Sky Knife’s trembling and recognized it for what it was. The warrior’s expression changed from helplessness to smug assurance.

  “You’re too tired to do anything more,” said Mirror. “You can’t curse me to the underworlds now, or strike me down with magic.” Mirror took a step forward. “In fact, you can’t do much, can you?”

  “Leave him alone!” shouted Rabbit. She dashed down the steps.

  Mirror turned to face her. “Watch your tongue around me, woman. I’ll see you dead for your treachery.”

  “Treachery?” asked Rabbit. “You’re the traitor. The boy is king here—not his mother’s brother.”

  Mirror shrugged. “I don’t care who’s king. I just know what Dark Lightning offered me for my support. Neither the boy nor Grasping Fire will be as generous.”

  “I thought you were the Masked One’s servant,” said Sky Knife. “What happened to your devotion to your god and your city?”

  “The Masked One should never have let the Storm God gain prominence here,” said Mirror. “She should have struck down Forked-Tongue Serpent and his line centuries ago. Then none of this would be necessary.”

  “That’s pretty presumptuous,” said Rabbit. “Telling the Masked One what she should have done.”

  “Yes, it is,” said another voice behind Sky Knife. “The Masked One’s curse upon you, warrior, for your treachery. Your evil deeds will be repaid to you in the land of the dead.”

  Mirror paled. “No, Mistress,” he said. “I serve our great Mother.” He dropped to his knees.

  “I don’t think so.” The woman moved up to where Sky Knife could see her. It was Dancing Bear, clad in her white priestess’ robes. Whiskers-of-Rat stood on the other side of her. Sky Knife removed the tumpline and let his bundle fall to the pavement.

  “Die, Mirror,” said Dancing Bear. “The underworlds await your soul.”

  “No!” shoute
d Mirror. “Don’t say that.” He leaped for Dancing Bear. Sky Knife lurched in between them and stabbed Mirror with his knife.

  Mirror’s eyes widened and tears gathered in them. He slumped to his knees. Sky Knife pulled out the knife and Mirror groaned.

  Sky Knife took a step backwards and fell, too exhausted to stand any longer. Rabbit ran over and knelt by his side. Sky Knife lay bruised on the pavement and watched Mirror. The other man slowly collapsed to the ground, blood welling out of the wound in his gut. He breathed in short, ragged gasps.

  Dancing Bear pulled out a prismatic blade and stepped over Mirror. “Return to the womb of our Mother,” she said. She grasped Mirror’s hair and pulled his head back. Then she drew the knife across his neck.

  Blood spurted out of the neck wound all over Rabbit and Sky Knife. Dancing Bear wiped her blade on Mirror’s skirt and returned it to a pocket inside the sleeve of her tunic. She looked over to Sky Knife and Rabbit.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” she said, “ever since Rat found me and let me know you were taken.”

  Dancing Bear stepped over the body of Mirror and knelt by Sky Knife. She touched his forehead briefly with the back of her hand. “We should see to your wounds.”

  “I’ve been seen to,” said Sky Knife. “I just need to rest. It’s Deer we have to worry about.”

  “Where is he?” asked Dancing Bear. “You rescued him?”

  “He’s with Talking Storm on top of the pyramid,” said Sky Knife. “I’ve got to get up there.”

  “You can’t climb all those steps,” said Rabbit.

  “I’ll carry him,” said Whiskers-of-Rat. “But you carry the bundle, Rabbit. It’s probably your stuff, anyway.”

  Sky Knife put his knife back in its deerskin bag. Whiskers-of-Rat came over and put his arms under Sky Knife’s shoulders and knees. The world lurched around Sky Knife as Whiskers-of-Rat hauled him several feet off the ground.

  “You’re not so heavy,” said Whiskers-of-Rat.

  “Tell me that again when you get to the top of the steps,” said Sky Knife.