by Sharon Sala
The boy’s eyes widened as Layla translated the chief’s words. The thought of the great chief being part of their clan was a big deal. He looked up at Layla.
She nodded her approval.
He puffed up his chest and threw back his head. “Yes, Cayetano, you can be in our clan.”
“Yuma says yes,” she said.
Cayetano tried hard not to smile. “I am grateful for the honor. Do you think we might walk to the marketplace and look for some sugarcane to celebrate?”
Again, Layla continued to translate for the both of them.
Yuma didn’t know what to think. “What is sugarcane?”
Cayetano shook his head. “You have much to learn about things that are good. It is a sweet food, like mango and berries.”
“I like berries,” Yuma said.
“Then you will like this, as well. Do we go?”
Layla felt like dancing for joy. Instead, she solemnly agreed.
“We go,” she said. “But with guards, I think.”
He frowned. So she’d already figured out something was wrong. He should have known.
“Yes, with guards.”
When the people in the marketplace realized that Cayetano and his woman were walking among them, it caused quite a stir. They had come with a child. Word began to spread that it was the boy Singing Bird had carried into Naaki Chava.
Cayetano went straight to the vendor who had chunks of the raw cane. The moment the man realized it was the chief, he puffed up with pride.
Cayetano pushed Yuma in front of him.
“See this boy. He is Yuma. He only has eight seasons, but he made the Last Walk all alone. He is a very brave boy from the wolf clan.”
The man eyed the boy. “All alone! That is a feat worthy of any great warrior. May I gift him with my cane, Cayetano?”
Cayetano smiled. “That is why we came. He has never had this treat. Show him how it’s done.”
The man grabbed a chunk and stuffed one end into his mouth, chewing on it until it was soft, then sucking the juice from the pulverized stalk. A single drop of the sweet liquid stuck on his lip as he smiled.
“Like that,” he said. “You try.”
Yuma took one of the chunks and poked it in his mouth. By now, everyone in the market place was watching curiously. Yuma chewed on the end and sucked off the sweet juice; his eyes wide with delight. The people around him laughed.
Layla laughed with them. It felt good to be happy.
“You like it?” Cayetano asked.
“Yes,” Yuma said.
“So, we go. Thank you,” Cayetano told the vendor.
The man was still beaming as they moved away.
Cayetano continued their walk, showing him monkeys stealing fruit from the tables and the colorful macaws with wingtips trimmed, tied to perches and begging for treats.
Layla watched Yuma’s face and knew this was right. Cayetano said he would never be able to give her a child, so she’d given him one, instead. They didn’t know it yet, but these two would be bound at the heart by a love far stronger than the bounds of blood.
***
Acat became Yuma’s nursemaid. He slept on a mat at her side each night, satisfied that he had a place to belong, and during the day, prowled the palace either with Layla or Acat, learning every alcove and every hiding place. During their times of rest, Layla taught him the language of Naaki Chava and it was good for Yuma, but she was also uneasy. The lost boys had not spirit walked to her again, and she had not received a sign. Her heart was heavy, fearing the worst.
When morning came, she woke up to find herself alone. Cayetano had already begun his day and she had not. She dressed quickly, and was on her way to get Yuma for their first meal when she began hearing birds—all around her—above her, singing, singing, and there were no birds in sight.
It was happening! She ran for the throne room, calling Cayetano’s name as she went.
***
Cayetano had begun his day settling arguments—petty squabbles that, if left undone, would cause bigger issues within the city. It tried his patience more than anything he did as their chief, but when he heard Singing Bird shouting his name, he was up and running even before she appeared.
As he met her at the door, she grabbed his arms, her fingers digging into his flesh.
“They are running. We go now!” she whispered.
He didn’t pause. He pointed at one of the servants.
“Send the guards!”
Then he turned to the people who had come with complaints for him to settle. They were watching curiously.
“Go home,” he shouted.
They had never seen Cayetano like this and didn’t ask why. “I want my weapons,” she said, and ran back to her quarters as he ran to get his own, then stopped a servant on the way down the hall. “Tell Acat she is to keep Yuma with her until we are back.”
“Yes, Singing Bird,” he said softly, and hurried away.
Layla was pulling off all of her jewelry as she ran. By the time she got to her room, she was naked. Regardless of the dress code, she wasn’t going topless into the jungle. She began digging through her things until she found the clothing she’d worn coming in here; the old gray sports bra and the last pair of jeans she owned that would stay over her hips. She abandoned her sandals for the hiking boots and tied her hair back from her face. She was about to go looking for Cayetano when she saw her father’s necklace and put around her neck. It had served her well on the Last Walk. It would do so, again.
When Cayetano walked in and saw her weapons and what she was wearing, it took him aback, and then he saw the wisdom of it.
“The guards are waiting,” he said. “Follow me. There is a way out of the palace that does not take us through the city. The fewer people who know we are gone, the better.”
“I am behind you,” she said, and ran to keep up with his long, hurried stride.
***
Adam and Evan knew how to get out of the palace without being seen, and they knew where they going and how to get there. They had been practicing their trip from the City of the Sun to Naaki Chava every night in a spirit walk. They knew the landmarks to look for, and the dangers they would face. They had stolen two knives days ago, and hidden them in their room, waiting for the moment when they could escape. Yet when the opportunity finally arrived, it was so unexpected they were unprepared for the hasty exit.
For the past few days, they had been giving Bazat information most pleasing to him. During the past week, they had told him of a tribe far to the east that was going to move across his territory with the intent of stealing women from the fields. They told him the right place to find the biggest tapirs he liked to hunt, that one of the women he slept with was with child, and that a Shaman in the palace was going to die.
Acting on their warnings, he set some guards in hiding near the women working in the fields, and when the warring tribe appeared as the little War-Gods had said, they not only stopped them from stealing the women, but brought them back into the city and offered them as sacrifices to the Sun God and to Mother Earth.
One after the other, the things they predicted came to pass, and Bazat’s opinion of them continued to grow. He no longer thought about killing them. Instead, he was thinking daily of more ways to use their power to his advantage.
And then the old Shaman died.
Bazat received word about the death just as they were to begin their morning meal and bolted from the room before he’d taken a bite, leaving the boys alone. Even the servants who attended the meals had run after him.
The boys took one look at each other, grabbed some bread and fruit from the table, and headed for Bazat’s quarters. They didn’t know where he’d hidden their crystal, but they wanted it back.
They spent precious minutes digging through his things until Evan found it on
a shelf behind an idol. They put it in a small bag and headed for their room to get the knives they had hidden. Adam slung the bag over his shoulder and then they slipped down a hallway into an ante-room and took a back way out of the palace.
They didn’t talk, and they didn’t look back. They crept behind the dwellings, startling only the parrots tied to their perches, while sending one long frantic signal to Layla Birdsong, praying she would hear. Once they reached the jungle, they quit worrying about being caught and ran as fast as they could; headlong into a world they had seen only in their sleep.
***
It was morning in the City of the Sun and time to welcome the new day. Zotz was the oldest Shaman in the city, and the honor to welcome the sun was always his. He walked slowly up the steps, aching in every joint, but moving, nonetheless.
He paused at the top to catch his breath. The people were gathering below as they did each morning, waiting for the blessing, and so he began.
He was halfway through the ritual when the vision came to him. In his mind, he saw the Little War-Gods running through the jungle—running away. They had already usurped most of the Shamans’ powers, and the Shamans were already afraid Bazat would discard them. If the twins got away, they would be blamed.
In a panic, he turned to shout the warning, and then his brain exploded. He dropped where he stood as a seizure took control of his body; rolling him too close to the edge. He fell over, rolling down the steep steps, bouncing head over heels, and flopping all the way down.
By the time he landed, his neck was broken, his head cracked open; his eyes staring sightless toward the sun. But it was his mouth, open in a scream he never voiced that caused the fuss. Convinced he’d been trying to warn them of something dire, the other Shamans began praying for protection, which sent everyone into a panic.
The sun was directly overhead before Bazat returned to the palace. It had taken most of the morning to quell the riot that ensued. The death was a distraction but not a surprise to Bazat.
It was exactly what the Little War-Gods had predicted, and he was anxious to find out what came next. Were they in danger from some unknown enemy? Was the harvest going to fail? Would the rains come too soon? There were a dozen reasons to worry, but his were only beginning. When he sent a servant to bring the boys, he came running back in a panic.
“They are gone! They are gone! The Little War-Gods are gone!”
Bazat screamed out in disbelief, and then in rage. He slashed the servant’s throat for giving him the bad news, and then sent trackers to find the trail. When he received word they had found it, he took his warriors into the jungle, chasing little Gods and outrunning the fear he was leaving behind.
***
The boys were wet, both with sweat from the heat and from the dousing they’d taken after falling into a stream. Adam had a long scratch on the back of one arm that was stinging to the point of real pain. Anywhere they were bare, there were insects. Some were just hitching a ride, others were blood-suckers. They were so weary of swatting them that they were completely ignoring them now. Their food was gone and their bellies were hungry. They had fallen into water, tripped over exposed tree roots, and were so exhausted they were stumbling with every other step; too tired to pick up their feet.
Their physical conditions were a setback to the wisdom of spirit-walking for information. Since they had not been in their bodies, they had taken no notice of the possibility of physical discomforts. It was a huge reminder to pay closer attention, and they were exhausted.
“Wait. My side hurts. I need to rest,” Adam muttered, as he paused to catch his breath.
Evan dropped where he stood. He didn’t even look for a safe place to sit. Instead, he pulled his knees up and leaned forward on them, struggling for every breath.
“Are we lost?” he asked.
Adam looked up, then all around. It was thick and green in front of them and behind them. There wasn’t a path and they couldn’t see the sky.
“I don’t know for sure. I thought we’d see those green orchids by now.”
Evan closed his eyes, remembering the fall of green flowers spilling down the sides of a tree.
“I can see them in my head,” he offered.
“Yes, so can I, but I don’t see with my eyes open, which is what needs to happen,” Adam said, and then suddenly groaned. “I never thought, but some of that stuff might only bloom at night. We could have already passed important landmarks.”
Evan wiped the sweat from his face and looked up. “So, are we lost?”
“Maybe, but we know the general direction we have to go. All we have to do is keep moving. We should be halfway there, don’t you think?”
Evan’s eyes welled with tears. “I can’t tell. We move very fast when we are spirits. I think we should have practiced this in our bodies, too.”
Adam frowned. “You can’t practice running away, Evan. You just do it.”
Evan nodded. “Are we rested enough?”
“Yes, I think we are,” Adam said, and reached down to help his brother up when he heard a rustling in the leaves above them. He looked up just as a massive python dropped off of a limb onto the ground.
One moment Evan was in front of him and then he was disappearing within the snake’s giant coils.
“Adddaaammm! Help me!” Evan screamed. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”
Adam began stabbing and slashing at the snake with his knife—cutting it in dozens of places until both he and the snake were red with blood. He tried to stab at the head, but there was so much blood the knife slid off the bony plate. He was begging God to help him even as his brother’s face was turning red, but when his eyes rolled back in his head, Adam screamed. He felt Evan’s absence as surely as if it had been his own. His brother was dead!
A fear-fueled rage swept through him as he raised the knife above his head, stabbing it into the snake as far as the blade would go. When he felt it hit bone, he adjusted his grip and started pulling it through the flesh in a see-saw motion, laying the python open as he went.
Adam realized the snake was dying only after the coils began to loosen. He grabbed his brother, pulling as hard as he could, and suddenly Evan was free!
He laid him flat on his back, checked for a pulse then felt his chest, checking for broken ribs. He could do mouth to mouth, but the fear of puncturing his lungs with already broken ribs was a definite possibility. Still, he would rather take a chance than do nothing.
When they were younger, they had been fascinated by the concept of CPR, and bringing people back to life to the extent that they had play-acted saving each other’s lives for the longest time. Only now it wasn’t play.
Adam lost track of how long he’d been doing chest compressions and blowing air into his brother’s lungs, but the sun was nearly overhead. At any second Bazat could catch up with them and it would be over.
It was difficult to do CPR when you were crying between every breath, but he wouldn’t quit. He couldn’t give up. Evan was the other half of himself. He had just finished a round of chest compressions and was leaning down to put his mouth on his brother’s lips when he thought he noticed Evan’s eyelids suddenly flutter.
He blew into his mouth one last time, and when he heard Evan choke, and then take a breath on his own, he rocked back on his heels and let out a scream that sent the birds above him into flight. Evan was back from the dead! God had heard him after all.
***
The search team had been on the move for nearly two hours. Layla was in the lead following the boys’ voices, just as she’d followed the war drums on the Last Walk.
One moment she was running, and then all of a sudden she had stopped. The warriors stopped behind her, eyes wide with fright. They had never followed a woman into battle, and they’d never had an enemy they could not see. They kept their eyes trained on the jungle in fear they would be
attacked at any moment.
Suddenly Layla groaned and bent double; in obvious pain and gasping for breath.
Cayetano immediately thought of the baby she carried.
“What?” he asked, as grabbed her arm to pull her up.
The look on her face was one of horror. “One of the boys is dying. He can’t breathe. It’s a python, I think.”
“How do you know this?” Cayetano asked.
“I don’t know. Could I not do this before?”
“No. Never,” he said.
“So things change,” she muttered. “We need to hurry.”
“Do you know how far away they are?”
“They are closer to us than they are to Bazat, but he follows.”
Cayetano’s eyes narrowed. The expression on his face grew grim.
“We go,” he said. “Show me and I will lead.”
“Straight ahead,” she said. “If it changes, I will tell you.”
He thought of what had happened to Singing Bird before and coming face to face with Bazat. If he killed the man again, the curse would not be broken.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
She didn’t argue. When they resumed their trek, Cayetano was leading the way, and she was running in the midst of the warriors who had surrounded her.
***
Bazat and his men were tireless. They ran to hunt down game. They ran when fighting their enemies. Their legs were strong, their muscles hard. The heat did not bother them and the mosquitoes fed on their blood and flew away without notice.
Bazat’s strength was rage-filled. His will should be obeyed and the Little War-Gods had disobeyed him. Gods or not, they would be punished.
He pushed his men without care for their condition. Their brown bodies were slick with sweat and their arms were covered with tiny cuts and scratches from the razor sharp edges of the leaves. They needed water and they needed to rest, but he would not stop. He had no idea how long the boys had been gone, where they were going, or if they were even still alive. They would rest, and they would drink, after the Little War-Gods were found.
***
