The Days of the Deer

by Liliana Bodoc

  ‘Will you never stop playing games?’

  Dulkancellin was never one to be patient, so Cucub decided to quickly put an end to the puzzle.

  ‘Here I am,’ he said, appearing as if by magic on Dusky One’s back. ‘Now, watch this.’

  As he talked, Cucub demonstrated to the Husihuilke that was he was saying was perfectly possible.

  ‘I am mounted on this animal. You are quite close, and are looking at it. Yet you think the animal is on its own. But you’re wrong ... Dusky One is not advancing alone. I, a fierce warrior, am concealed on one of its flanks. And you over there, who are a Sideresian, do not realize it. Dusky One comes closer . . . unaware of the danger he poses, you are still not concerned. Then when we are within striking distance, I suddenly appear. I charge at you, giving you no time to react. Falling upon you and your strange weapons, I kill you three times over.’ Cucub threw himself at Dulkancellin, pretending he had an axe in his hand. ‘Once for the old luku, once for the fleet-footed young Offspring, and once for my friend the eagle—’

  These memories made Cucub feel sad, and so he had no wish to continue with his game. Dulkancellin was able to push him off as if he were no more than a child.

  ‘Do you think a man bigger than you could do the same?’ he asked, interested in his companion’s new trick.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the Zitzahay. ‘Even you could do so, if we only find the way. Come on, let’s try.’

  The day Dulkancellin had mounted one of these animals with a mane for the first time, the same day that the strangers were called by their true name, was known as the Day of Shame.

  When Magic woke from its lethargy and saw what was going on, it understood there was much sorrow that could not be remedied. The whole of the Fertile Lands was mourning its sons: green maize fields, trees as high as the sky, lukus from the southern isles, birds, men, rushing rivers, all had been equally beloved. But although it was late and much had been lost, Magic drew closer still to the Creatures. Together they undertook a resolute defence that sought to preserve the last heartbeats of Creation, even if they knew a world had been lost for ever, in the forever of every possible time.

  That day the countless orders flying out of the observatory were carried out in a huge number of determined actions. There was much to try to remedy as Dulkancellin sped on Dusky One’s back in pursuit of the Sideresians who had escaped from the grey pyramid. And when the warrior returned empty-handed, there was still more to do. On the heels of the messengers sent to the land of the Lords of the Sun, fresh runners were sent to tell them the latest news: it was no longer a case of attacking an unknown fleet by surprise; nor were they three brotherly ships which had come to share a triumph. Now it was an all-out war against Misáianes, a war that had begun very badly.

  A column of men was sent out along the Long Road to meet the children of the Northmen, who must be close by. Two trackers were dispatched to find Illán-che-ñe. Many were set busy preparing water, food and medicine. A host of other tasks that had to be done left the surrounding villages deserted. The young men were recruited for battle, the older ones occupied workshops to sharpen weapons. The village women and children were given refuge in the city’s many stone buildings. Beleram was crowded with people who still could not fully grasp what was going on. The same was true in the House of the Stars: everywhere apart from Zabralkán’s observatory and a hidden room where the sacred books were kept was full of women and children, who took it upon themselves to carry out many of the preparations for battle.

  ‘I’m glad we are all in Beleram,’ Cucub was saying. The two men had closed the corral gate and were heading inside the walls of the House of the Stars. ‘I’d be even happier if we could all be inside these walls. That way I feel nothing bad could happen to us.’

  ‘You are speaking of yourself and your friends,’ replied Dulkancellin. ‘The people of the Ends of the Earth will be alone when the dark night arrives. Old Mother Kush and my children will be on their own.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Cucub. ‘It’s just that distance ... the Sideresians are so close to us, and so far from the Husihuilkes.’

  ‘Who knows? No one can be sure whether at this very moment the Sideresians are not entering our houses exactly as they did those of the Offspring.’

  ‘But just think,’ replied Cucub, trying to ease his friend’s mind. ‘In the Offspring’s villages the Sideresians met with only a few gentle people, who were sleeping an untroubled sleep. Nothing like that could take place at the Ends of the Earth, where the most valiant warriors in all the Fertile Lands live. Warriors who always sleep with one eye open.’

  ‘I, though, am wondering how those brave warriors could confront faceless death.’ Dulkancellin was referring to the weapons the Sideresians had used against the men guarding the coast under Molitzmós’s command. Weapons that had allowed Drimus and his companions to reach their ships safely and make good their escape.

  ‘Tell me again what happened,’ said Cucub.

  ‘You know I was not there when it occurred. My ears heard the roar. My eyes only saw the results.’

  ‘But Molitzmós gave you an exact description—’

  ‘Haven’t I done the same?’ said Dulkancellin. ‘Haven’t I told you the story each time you asked?’

  Cucub insisted he tell him again.

  ‘One last time,’ the Husihuilke accepted. He began: ‘As I have already said, when we set off for the port—’

  ‘Don’t start by saying “As I have already said”, because that detracts from the interest of the story,’ said Cucub.

  ‘Very well, Cucub. When we set off for the port in pursuit of the Sideresians—’

  ‘I cannot forget that you set off with someone who was not Cucub ... I wanted to go with you, but you forbade me.’

  ‘Cucub, didn’t you say you wanted to hear the whole story again?’

  ‘I did and I still do. I won’t interrupt you again.’

  ‘Very well, Cucub. As I was saying, we left in pursuit of the Sideresians in the face of a gale that held us back the whole time. We could not keep our eyes open because of the stinging sand. But when we drew close to the port, we heard the explosions. Neither of us knew what had caused them. In fact, apart from hearing that they came from the harbour, we had no idea what was going on. It was then, as I told you, that our mounts escaped our control. I’m sure that was due to our anxiety rather than theirs. The fact is that they bucked and twisted so much they almost threw us off. It took a great effort to calm them and persuade them to carry on. Meanwhile, until we reached the coast, we heard nothing more apart from the howling wind. The delay meant we had no hope of catching the strangers, but we were still confident that Molitzmós would prevent them from reaching their ships.’

  ‘You were mistaken,’ said Cucub, stressing each word.

  ‘We had no way of knowing then what was taking place in the harbour,’ replied Dulkancellin.

  ‘What state did you find Molitzmós’s men in?’ Cucub was deliberately speeding up the story to reach the part that interested him.

  ‘What state...?’ echoed Dulkancellin, then went on: ‘I found them confused by what had just happened, and very frightened. Some were standing round their bleeding companions, without daring to touch them. They simply stood there, watching them die. You might have thought they considered them cursed—’

  ‘Of course they thought they were cursed!’ Cucub exclaimed. ‘What else could they think of a death that comes from afar, in the midst of a huge roar and clouds of smoke? And the body that falls is wounded but there is no sign of any arrow.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Dulkancellin admitted.

  ‘What about the ships?’

  ‘The three ships were heading out to sea. We had arrived too late. All we could do was watch them leave, taking our enemies with them.’

  ‘And Molitzmós?’

  ‘He behaved like a true leader. I saw him restore calm among his men.’

  ‘The same as you had done shortly
before with Dusky One.’

  Dulkancellin knew that Cucub was expert in cloaking his most damaging insinuations in a show of innocence. And since this remark was obviously double-edged, he preferred to ignore it. But Cucub was not in the habit of giving up because of a silence, however much it seemed like disapproval. So he returned to the charge.

  ‘I’m not asking what Molitzmós did, but what he told you about what had happened.’

  Cucub was doing his utmost to delay their return to the House of the Stars, and to make sure the Husihuilke warrior stayed with him. This was because he realized only too well that once they were inside the House of the Stars, Dulkancellin would be far too busy to finish the story. Fortunately for him, the Husihuilke warrior himself came to a halt as soon as he began to recall the words used by Molitzmós to describe the flight of the Sideresians.

  ‘Molitzmós told us that everything had been calm. Or so it seemed. The ships had not moved. There was no sign of life on them, apart from three black birds circling around, apparently hunting for fish. The first sign that all was not well was a wind that did not come from elsewhere. According to Molitzmós, it sprang up directly from the shore. He said:

  ‘“The air began to twist between us and the coast, and a thin tower of air rose up like a column, growing bigger at every moment. Then we were all enveloped by a sandstorm. It was almost impossible to speak to each other or hear what was being said, and none of us could keep our eyes open if we looked towards the sea. In spite of this, we started to march towards the coast to prevent the strangers leaving their ships if they tried to do so. We struggled against the force of the wind. All at once there was a sound like the buzzing of bees, and the wind dropped. When the mound of sand it had lifted sank to the ground, we saw that the strangers had left the jetty and were spread out on the shore. We were still further from them than the bows of our best archers could reach, so I ordered my men on. Then something happened which we are still at a loss to explain . . . Brother Dulkancellin, the strangers’ weapons can throw fire from a long way off, a fire that tears bodies apart. Three times in short succession they aimed those fires at us, and three times one of our warriors fell like a pigeon struck in mid-air. Fire, smoke, death .. . After the third time, I could not control their fear, and my men began to run away. Some riders appeared from the south, and the strangers welcomed them with battle-cries. The new arrivals responded in kind, raising themselves up on the backs of their mounts. They raced across the shore, and came to a sudden halt at the end of the jetty. It was only then that we could see there were two men on one of the animals. The four of them dismounted, and were immediately protected behind the other men’s weapons. The last fires kept us at a distance while they all returned to the ships. The rest you know: the ships sailed off. By the time you arrived, all you found were laments and fear. Believe me, Dulkancellin, it all happened so quickly I have taken longer just telling it you.”’

  The Husihuilke finished relating what Molitzmós had told him. Cucub, who had heard the same story several times, was amazed at the warrior’s new-found ability. Who would have thought that the Dulkancellin I met at the Ends of the Earth would be able to say so much, and to tell a story so well, mused Cucub, although he was not entirely sure whether this was a good thing. Since the Husihuilke warrior did not seem to have noticed his amazement, he preferred to keep this observation to himself. Something told him Dulkancellin might not like to find out that he was acquiring Zitzahay habits!

  ‘So there were four of them!’ was what Cucub eventually said. ‘Four men .. . I’m sure that, as you say, it was Illán-che-ñe who left with the Sideresians.’

  ‘Everything points to that,’ replied Dulkancellin, walking on again. ‘Although Molitzmós said they could not recognize them because all four were wrapped in their cloaks.’

  ‘Talking of Molitzmós,’ said Cucub, coming to a halt once more. ‘Wasn’t it very fortunate that of all the fires directed their way, none was aimed at the warriors’ commander?’

  Dulkancellin finally understood where Cucub had been leading him. And since he believed that such doubts, in someone who had not been at the port and knew nothing of the weapons in question, could not mean more than an unreasoned dislike, he decided to bring their conversation to a close.

  ‘Yes, it was indeed fortunate. Otherwise we would have lost a great leader,’ said Dulkancellin, hastening to reach the House of the Stars.

  Cucub watched him stride away.

  ‘Oh, yes! A great, great leader ...’ he muttered under his breath.

  In the days following the ships’ escape, there was no further news of the Sideresians. No fish, swallows, jaguars, or owls could provide any information about them. It was as if the Yentru had swallowed them. Emboldened by this lack of information, some wanted to believe the Sideresians had been so frightened that they were now heading back across the sea to the Ancient Lands. Yet no one who properly understood what was going on, and was aware of the orders these strangers were obeying, as well as the vast strength of the Power that had sent them, could accept this version.

  And so it proved. Before the moon had gone twice through its phases, the first reports came filtering back to the House of the Stars. Bad news, although it had nothing to do with the march of a large Sideresian army towards Beleram, as many of them could have wished. Somebody to fight ... An army facing our army ... A war! This was Dulkancellin’s wish during nights when he could find no sleep.

  The fact was that after his working tirelessly to prepare for the only war they knew, the war of mankind, these hidden attacks that his bow could not prevent left Dulkancellin frustrated. How could he fight against the evils threatening the Fertile Lands? Perhaps Kupuka could, and all the other Earth Wizards. Perhaps the Supreme Astronomers could. But warriors like him were powerless. The Husihuilke saw freshly sharpened spears and axes leaning against the stone wall, and longed for a war. A war, was what he wished for.

  The moons waxed and waned ... each day the House of the Stars heard of fresh tribulations and losses: that from Claw Canyon to the River Yum, to the west of the Central Mountains, huge tracts of forest were burning; that the children of the high villages were dying, their faces covered in blotches. And that at the opposite end of the Fertile Lands, the water from the Great Spring gave anyone drinking it terrible pains and black vomit. Despite the fact that Magic had recovered its light and summoned storms to put out the fires, as well as sending medicine and healing songs to steer the sick back towards life, a painful battle was being fought.

  Yet in the Fertile Lands, which only a few moons before had been a plentiful, fragrant land, something far worse than the fires, sickness, poisoned water, or young born before their time was occurring. Voices reached the House of the Stars whispering of disloyalty. These voices said that many people were abandoning their houses and villages to go and join the Sideresians. ‘They are powerful ... they have been sent by an omnipotent Being and will bless all those who join their service,’ those who left were heard to say. The Magic knew that to distinguish between Good and Evil could be as hard as telling two grains of sand apart. There were bound to be mistakes and confusion. A punishment of death was declared for anyone bowing down to Misáianes.

  In the days that followed, some of the border guards reported seeing the Sideresians. None of them was completely certain about it. When questioned, they spoke of shadows in the undergrowth, or furtive movements along nameless trails.

  The first real news of their enemy’s position arrived at the House of the Stars one windy morning. A small band of Sideresians had been seen spending the night in the jungle, on a sandbank in the Red River With Feet Apart.

  ‘At last!’ said the Husihuilke warrior.

  The meeting following this report took place in the observatory. Zabralkán and Bor were seated at opposite ends of the stone table. Crowding round them, filling the room, were a group of lesser Astronomers and the representatives at the Council. There were fewer of these now than there had once
been. Apart from the old luku, who had never arrived, now Illán-che-ñe, who would never be forgiven, was missing, and so too was Nakín of the Owl Clan.

  She had been given the difficult task of memorizing the sacred books sheet by sheet, word by word. To do so, she had to dedicate all her mind to it, without any distractions. Alongside her, the scribes were busy making copies of them on sheets of soft leather. As soon as these were finished, they were taken out of the House of the Stars. The copies were sent to different, almost inaccessible places in the Fertile Lands, in the hope that if everything else were lost, someone living in another Age might rescue them.

  These sacred books contained ancient explanations about all that had been created and had taken place. At this time of war against Misáianes, Magic had to protect them in whatever way it could. It did not matter how many warriors they put to guard them, every one of them could be killed. Every wall could be knocked down, every chest be broken into. That is why they scattered the sacred books all over the continent, and hid them where no one would think of looking. For instance, in the memory of a fragile young woman.

  Nakín of the Owl Clan spent her days and most of her nights shut up in the secret room, reading the sacred texts by oil lamp. She only rarely came out, and then only for a moment. This was when her eyes and body, tired of giving warning signs, gave out completely. Whenever this happened, Nakín was oblivious to what people were doing or saying around her. Even then she was incessantly repeating to herself the texts she should never forget.

  ‘It’s our turn to be invisible now,’ said Dulkancellin, who was seated next to Molitzmós.

  ‘I can imagine what you are referring to,’ said Elek.

  Hatred had done its work on the fair-haired man’s body. In a short space of time Elek had become so thin he looked ill. His plump body and pleasant manner had vanished. His eyes were like the ashen sea, only lighting up when he talked of killing.

  ‘I think we can all imagine what Dulkancellin is trying to tell us,’ said Molitzmós. ‘And if as I believe we are all agreed, then we must take action at once.’