Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  We were running at a regular slow to moderate pace. I guessed that we were doing a mile in about ten minutes and Yochi kept us at that rate because of the darkness and the treacherous terrain. From the gates to the krus-be was about six miles so I estimated we’d be there in about an hour. We were all fit so, even with the heavy air, I did not anticipate any problems. As I ran, Bas came to my mind. We used to race early in our childhood days; he always beat me. I smiled as I reflected on his legs, shorter than mine, and how they would move so swiftly. His swiftness made him uncatchable on the football field and he had made quite a name for himself with the football fans, and with the ladies, of course. Sometimes, when we went looking fi waif,430 the only reason why I wasn’t worried that I wouldn’t get lee bit was because Bas couldn’t fuck all the women around; there had to be some gyal left over to get into bed with me. I had missed Bas. He was the best fokin friend I ever had. From when I was a child and I had any recollection of anything that happened, Bas was always there. Bas was always there looking after me. I reached up and felt his bloodied Green Scapular. It was warm against my chest, warm against Xibalba. I had seen him again, in Xibalba, even though I had left him dead on the summit of the mountain where we had watched Victoria Peak; yet, I had not been able to speak with him and I didn’t know if I’d ever have that opportunity again. Think only of leaving Xibalba.

  I was always amazed at how many things Bas knew. Once, after a football game, we were sitting on the side of the field and I was joking with him about his running. He told me that one Jim Ryun of the United States had run a mile in 3:51.1 minutes on June 23rd, 1967 in California. I told him that was fokin fast running. He hung his head and said he could do better than that. I told him he was fokin lying. He looked up at me and said, “Running uphill.” At that point, the Army Coach had called us to get our things together as we were returning to camp for some Heineken. We had won the game. I never did find out if he really could’ve beaten Ryun’s record. Maybe he could, but uphill?

  We had left the Gates of Xibalba about three miles behind when Ichik shouted from the rear, “Warriors approaching.” I was pulled roughly and, suddenly, there was no one on the sacbeob as we were all hidden among the very warm boulders, a squad on each side.

  “Ek Baläm has whistled” came from the darkness.

  They knew we were there. No one responded until the Warriors were running between us on the sacbeob, then Ichik shouted, “Ek Baläm has whistled” and they stopped. We came back onto the sacbeob. It was Teul and Choco and two Warrior-slaves.

  The two Warrior-slaves went immediately to Yochi. “Nacon. The Guards of the Lords of Xibalba are not far behind,” informed one of them.

  “I am Kaloonte’, until Kish comes. Ichik, Ikan, and Fuck are Na-cons. Waach is now called Fuck.” They nodded. “How many?”

  “About one hundred, Kaloonte’,” answered the same Warrior. “I felt their running footsteps on the sacbeob.”

  “Did you see Chicahua? He was off the Chúumuk Sacbeob.”

  “No, Kaloonte’,” they both answered.

  “Then you too could have taken his ch’ab and what would have happened to your mates, those you protect? You should have known Chicahua was there, Huitzilli431 and Quauhtli.”432

  “We did not take the Chúumuk Sacbeob leaving the courtyard, Kaloonte’, as the guards stationed there had already been alerted that some of the Pitz players were not at the festivities. It would have been too dangerous so we went through the residencies and the farms. When we got to the gates, no one was there. You had already left, the Guards of the Lords of Xibalba were dead, and replacements had not arrived as yet.”

  Yochi nodded. “We are about half-way to the krus-be. Get your weapons and lej-xajäbs.” He turned to the other warriors. “Ko’one’ex.”

  “Wait,” objected Teul, who had not heard the discourse. “Our feet are cut and bruised. Are there …?”

  “You are a Warrior, Teul,” interrupted Yochi. “Would you have preferred to remain behind and empty the Lords shit-pots? Get your weapons. Yes! You will be given lej-xajäbs. As soon as you get yours, ko’one’ex. Warrior-slaves, you will continue to protect your mates.”

  “I was just …”

  “Shut up and do as ordered, Warrior,” barked Yochi. I did not intervene in the reprimand Yochi had given. Teul had to make his adjustments to this new land, this new army.

  The slaves quickly brought weapons and lej-xajäbs to those who needed them and we were again running through the grey fiery desolation that was the outskirts of the city of Xibalba, the Badlands. Everyone soon fell into rhythm and there was only the sound of feet hitting the sacbeob, in unison, except for the occasional distant sound of thunder as lightning flashed around us. In about thirty minutes we were at the krus-be.

  “We will rest here,” ordered Yochi. My men immediately sat. None of the others did. “It is not good to sit,” instructed Yochi. “Walk or your muscles will tighten and you will not be able to keep up. We will wait for no one.” My men got up, not looking at me. Yochi kneeled on the sacbeob and put his ear to the ground. He stood up. “They are less than half k’ab behind us. Water for everyone. Quickly.” The slaves immediately responded, bringing two large sealed jugs. They broke the seals and went to each of us.

  I was always amazed at the number of things slaves carried. I reflected on when Molly and I first met the Halach Uinic, Ajawinel K’an II, and his hunting party. They were on a Royal hunting trip and besides salt and other necessities they bore to preserve game meat, they carried food for a Royal Picnic. I had been blindfolded when my Nim-q’ij433 Guard brought me breakfast. When I asked him what it was, he answered, “smoked rat, mushrooms, and wasp larvae. On these trips, we eat like ajawinels.” I guessed that our slaves wouldn’t have the supplies for a picnic; perhaps they hadn’t brought any food as they couldn’t bring attention to themselves. Kish, however, would have made sure we had the basic requirements of the journey, only the essentials. As soon as we had each gotten our drink, Yochi ordered us on our way again. We took the sacbeob to the north, the land of Can-Tzicnal.

  We ran about twenty minutes, leaving the krus-be behind. When we came to a sharp right bend, one of Yochi’s Warriors who was leading us raised his hand hastily then indicated to the right. We all immediately moved to the right side of the sacbeob, disappearing in the darkness among the boulders.

  “Ek Baläm has whistled” came from across.

  “Ek Baläm has whistled,” answered Yochi, and Chicahua came out of the grey darkness on the other side. We immediately returned to the sacbeob.

  “Nacon!”

  “I am Kaloonte’, Chicahua, until Kish comes. Ichik, Ikan, and Fuck are Nacons.”

  Chicahua nodded and hit his chest. “As soon as I saw the approaching guards, I shot the ch’ab as ordered. I waited until I could see their faces then returned to the gates, but you had already left. I decided not to follow you, but to leave the Chúumuk Sacbeob and head towards this first curve in the sacbeob and wait for you here. There are about one hundred guards, divided into four platoons. Three comprise Death Guards, the fourth Demon Guards. The Kaloonte’ is Xiuhcoatl,434 and the Death Guards lead. One platoon is armed with long bate’s and long to’bal-ribs; the second with short bate’s and short to’bal-ribs; the third with maquahuitls and ba’ats. The fourth are Demon Guards and they have sk’ops, and jatz’oms. They all wear armor.435 They are advancing fast and must be at the krus-be already.”

  “Have you seen Kish and the Red Team,” I asked.

  “No, Waach … Fuck … Nacon,” he answered.

  “We have the long bate’s from the guards we took out at the gates,” briefed Yochi. “The slaves have them should you wish to use them.” Chicahua nodded. “Then, ko’one’ex.” Chicahua joined Ikan and we were running towards the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans, once again.

  The sacbeob took a northeasterly turn and I noted that Yochi had taken my right side rather than my left as he had do
ne before. He also kept looking to this right. “Yochi …”

  Yochi lifted his hand then spoke. “The Death Guards are the elite Warriors of Xibalba. Their training was supervised by Kish. The Nacons in the Death Guard train the Warriors in the Demon Guard. They are also well trained, but are not as great Warriors as the Death Guards. My Warriors and I are Death Guards. Ikan, Ichik, Iztali and their Warriors are Demon Guards.”

  “Iztali is not here yet.”

  “He is the Nacon of the Warriors-slaves looking after the Red Team. He will meet us. Are there any more questions, Nacon? It is not good for a Warrior to talk too much when he is running and could be facing battle at any moment.”

  “You keep looking to the right.”

  Yochi was silent for a while. “Xiuhcoatl is a great Warrior, a good Kaloonte’, probably second only to Kish. He has been in Xibalba for over three uinals. He is from Yax Mutul and was killed in battle when Ox Witz Ha fought Yax Mutul giving that city a great defeat. He thinks he should be Chief Guard and there’s also the fact that Kish is from Ox Witz Ha.” Yochi chuckled. “The thing is, I am sure Kish would prefer to be Kaloonte’ only, avoiding the many ceremonial duties the Chief Guard has.” He chuckled again. “Kish hates ceremony. I think that is one of the reasons he wants to get out of Xibalba. Anyway, Fuck, there are two bends in the sacbeob to the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans, the one we have just passed through and the second, which is not far ahead, where the sacbeob turns north to the land of Can-Tzicnal. The Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans is just beyond that bend. I fear that Xiuhcoatl and his Warriors have left the krus-be and are travelling right of the sacbeob and directly towards the second bend, intending to arrive there before us.”

  “But coming off the sacbeob would slow them down and we are moving very fast.”

  I heard Yochi snort. “You and your Warriors are not used to the air in Xibalba and so, we are running at the speed of slaves. We are not running at the speed of Death Guards.”

  I grunted. I was running as quickly as I could, with some difficulty and, I was sure my men were also having a hard time keeping up. I had not realized, however, that I was running only at the rate of a slave.

  “Step it up Warriors,” ordered Yochi, suddenly. “We need to run like the sotz’436 in flight. If you don’t keep up, you’ll be left behind.” The pace immediately picked up and I felt my chest tighten. It was not only the speed we were running, but the air was growing heavy with the smell of sulfur and fine particles of ash as we got further into the Badlands.

  We ran mile after mile until I heard someone fall behind me. I knew it was one of my men. “Stop,” I shouted. The Warriors before me slowed down.

  “We continue,” shouted Yochi, and they picked up speed again.

  “Stop,” I shouted. I stopped and Yochi glared at me. “I will not leave my Warrior behind.”

  “He is a Warrior,” stormed Yochi. “I am Kaloonte’. You do as I command.”

  I hit my chest, turned and walked through the men. It was Robertson lying on the road, his Warrior-slave standing beside him. I walked up to him and bent over. He was moving and he looked up at me. “I am a bit tired,” he said, a weak smile on his lips. “Go ahead. We all knew that all of us would probably not make it out of here.”

  “Fok that! I will not leave you.”

  “Yes, you will,” he rasped. “Your mission is more important than any one of us.”

  Yochi was beside me. He looked down at Robertson then at the Warrior-slave. “Tototl!”

  “Kaloonte’!”

  “Get him some water and kaab,437 then you remain with him until he can run again. If he takes too long, carry him or give him a Warrior’s death.”

  I stared at Yochi. “He will …” Yochi raised his hand and I clamped my mouth shut.

  “Water. Kaab,” shouted Tototl and one of the slaves was immediately there. He gave Robertson a mug of water mixed with kaab to drink.

  “But the Death Guards are not far behind,” I pointed out, angrily.

  “These men are Warriors. They will know what to do, Nacon. It is you who does not seem to know what to do. Now, ko’one’ex.”

  Robertson looked up at me. “Oh, bloody hell! Go, Chiac. I will be okay. I will meet you at the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans. My mission is still not completed. And don’t forget, I’m British. We always get the job done.” He smiled, but before I could respond Yochi intervened.

  “He is Nacon, not Chiac,” instructed Yochi. “Now ko’one’ex.”

  “You don’t have far to go, Robertson. Just about four miles. I don’t want to go back to Punta Gorda and have to tell the Mrs. that I didn’t bring you back.” I looked at Tototl. He nodded.

  “I will be there, Nacon,” grunted Robertson.

  I did not think I would see Robertson again. As I kept running, I started thinking about his wife and children, but I quickly pushed the thoughts from my mind. Think only of leaving Xibalba. After another three miles, Yochi called a halt. The Warriors, including my own, walked around, relaxing their muscles from the strenuous running while the slaves brought water and kaab for us. Ichik came forward immediately and consulted Yochi. They quickly began studying both sides of the sacbeob then they both knelt and put their ears to the surface. They got up quickly.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. They frowned.

  “Nothing. It’s as we suspected. They did leave the sacbeob,” answered Ichik.

  “Robertson and Tototl?” I asked. They both looked at me as if I had asked a nonsensical question.

  “The Death Guards,” grunted Yochi. “They did not take the sacbeob. They left the krus-be and headed straight for the second bend in the sacbeob near the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans. They may already be there.”

  “But the terrain is filled with hot sharp rocks and crevices,” I stressed. “Even with lej-xajäbs they would definitely damage their feet if they ran quickly.” They again looked at me as if I had said something ridiculous.

  “They are Death Guards, Nacon,” stressed Ichik. “Like us, they accept pain necessary to accomplish their mission. Unlike us, they are dressed for battle and for the terrain. They will have on the best uniforms. They will carry the best weapons. They wear the best lej-xajäbs. The terrain means nothing to them. Unlike us, they care nothing for death as if they die, the Death Lords will have them return to Xibalba quickly. We will not have that compassion as we have defied the Death Lords. We will be nothing for many tuns; in death, we will live only torture, no pleasure. If we are to die, we can only hope for a great battle before death. Then, our names will be sung by our poets.”

  “Chicahua!”

  “Kaloonte’!”

  Yochi pointed to the south. “Go.”

  “Kaloonte’!”

  “What is he going to do? You gave him no instructions.” Once again, Yochi and Ichik looked at me as if appalled by my question.

  “Too many questions, Nacon,” objected Yochi. “You are a Warrior. Think like a Warrior. If you do not, Nacon, you will die. Think, then question only if necessary. In battle, you will not even be able to think then question. You will only have time to act, to fight, in order to accomplish your mission to live.” I wanted to hang my head, but knew I couldn’t. I was starting to feel that Yochi and Ichik were beginning to think less of me as a Warrior.

  “Kaloonte’!” I responded, hitting my chest. Yochi looked at me without any emotions showing. “I am a Warrior. You have told me I am a Great Warrior. T’oit’ik-jolom. Even a Great Warrior still has things to learn, especially when he is in a strange place like Xibalba. Is it not better that I ask than remain ignorant? I am Nacon. I must know what you are doing and why you do those things.”

  “Chicahua will report to us what is happening in the Wasteland,” he answered. “Any more questions, Nacon?”

  “Wouldn’t it have been better to send two Warriors? Shouldn’t we have posted pickets while we rest?”

  “Picket?”

  “A p
icket is a Warrior, or small unit of Warriors, placed on a line forward of a position to provide warning of an enemy advance.”

  “One Warrior is less visible in the darkness. It is also better to lose one Warrior than two. Chicahua will return. Ichik and I have already seen that there is no one else around us. If there were, you would be fighting for your glory, Nacon. There is no need for pickets as Xiuhcoatl will not be redeploying his Warriors. Now, let’s all rest and drink our water and kaab.”

  I was angry. I was trained differently and was trying to understand their military strategy. The reference to killing Robertson also weighed heavily on my mind. I was trained to safeguard my buddy under all circumstances, not just provide him with a Warrior’s death. From my first journey into Mahanamtz’ world, I found it difficult to accept the disregard for the preservation of life. Yet, I knew I was beginning to change. Molly had seen that change. During the battle at Ox Witz Ha she told me, “You have become one of them” and I had answered, “I have always been one of them.” I didn’t really believe I was becoming ‘one of them’ or that I had ‘always been one of them’. My previous life would always be part of me, but I had to focus on my mission. I had to do whatever was necessary, become whatever was necessary. Perhaps, I was indeed being too … something other than what was necessary at this time. The Xibalbans were already dead, but they lived a second life as Xibalbans in the Underworld. Maybe I expected them to act as the living on the Surface World, U Wach Ulew, or the living in my other world. Perhaps, Yochi and Ichik were only ensuring that I conclude my mission successfully, a mission they were commanded by Kish to make me accomplish. Questions. Questions. I pushed all the confusing thoughts from my head. I had to be focused. Think only of leaving Xibalba.

  I checked my men as we drank from our mugs, walking and talking quietly as Yochi did not allow us to sit. They were concerned about Robertson. It was difficult not to talk to them as a friend and brother would. I had to talk to them as Sergeant Chiac and Nacon. So, I said, “No Warrior is more important than the success of the mission.” I expected a show of resentment, but they simply nodded their heads. Molly had said that the society was a “violent society”. Perhaps my men were already being embodied in the strange and violent world we were in.