The Days of the Deer

by Liliana Bodoc

  The talk in the Astronomers’ observatory was of ambush and surprise. They would attack the Sideresians whenever they halted. Only a few warriors in each attack: swift, silent, protected by the jungle they knew so well. They would fall on the Sideresians without giving them time to seize their weapons: cut them down, wield their axes, chop off the creeping fingers of Misáianes. Get hold of their weapons and animals. Then disappear.

  Everyone there except for Molitzmós agreed it should be Dulkancellin who led the first attack.

  ‘I would have liked to do it,’ said Molitzmós. ‘In order to restore my honour after what happened in the port.’

  ‘Allow me to say,’ Zabralkán burst out, ‘what the best way to restore your honour will be. Molitzmós of the Sun, that will be when I see you pleased that the best person is chosen to lead each task.’

  ‘So be it,’ said the haughty lord, clenching his teeth.

  The afternoon had scarcely begun, but everything was decided. Dulkancellin had chosen twenty-nine men to go with him. Elek of the Offspring was one of them.

  News of their departure spread through the passageways of the House of the Stars. A crowd of people, especially women and children, gathered on the platform outside to see the warriors off.

  Dulkancellin gazed at a little girl peeping out from behind her mother, and thought of Wilkilén. An old woman sitting in the traditional manner reminded him of Old Mother Kush. Kuy-Kuyen was evoked by another girl with long tresses.

  The women came up to the men and one by one went along stroking their faces. This was the custom whenever a man left his village. It meant: Remember, there is a reason for you to return.

  Dulkancellin caught sight of Nakín standing at the back apart from the others, and raised his arm in greeting. A weak smile fitted across her pale, lifeless features. What prophecies could be going through her mind at that very moment ...?

  But Dulkancellin was looking for somebody else. To find him, he left his column of men and pushed his way through the crowd, who fell back before him. Why is Cucub never where he ought to be? he wondered.

  ‘Were you looking for me?’ asked Cucub, tapping him on the shoulder.

  ‘I was,’ the warrior admitted.

  Taking Cucub by the arm, he led him to one side, where they could not be overheard.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I want to ask you something,’ said Dulkancellin. ‘I want you to give me your word about something.’

  Cucub waited for him to explain.

  ‘You are my brother here in this land that is foreign to me,’ Dulkancellin began. ‘And my brother everywhere else as well. I want to know once and for all that if I should die without being able to return to the Ends of the Earth, you will do so on my behalf. You will go back to my village, to my home. And you will leave some of my blood in the land that I love.’

  Cucub found he had to choke back tears.

  ‘You have Cucub’s word. I would have to be dead not once but twice to fail you.’

  The Supreme Astronomers were making their way down to the platform. Dulkancellin left Cucub and went back to his post. Zabralkán had come down from the observatory to speak to them before they departed. The old man spoke slowly, and so softly the silence had to grow around them.

  ‘The Fertile Lands are sending you out ... do not count each other and think that is the number of spears you bear. You are not thirty warriors. You are the Deer and the strength of Creation is with you. We know that the Sideresians have brought unknown weapons with them. But our Magic tells you that these weapons kill some with their fire, but many more with fear. Do not let that happen! The Deer is going to fight for the Deer! Bring back the first victory!’

  When Zabralkán had finished his harangue, the women shouted promises for all the warriors who returned: mallow liquor, succulent dishes, leather sandals, and love-making in the hammocks in the jungle’s cool shade.

  Dulkancellin sought out Cucub to make sure he would keep his promise, but the Zitzahay was no longer there. Not there, or anywhere visible. He will not forget it, the Husihuilke warrior told himself.

  The plan was to attack the Sideresians under cover of darkness on the river sandbank, if they were still there, or wherever they made camp on the following nights. The Creatures who had spotted them and were keeping a close watch on them, would inform Dulkancellin of where they had moved to. Since the sandbanks of the Red River With Feet Apart were five suns’ march away, and since the Sideresians could slip still further into the jungle, the warriors had to leave in haste.

  The warriors saluted the Supreme Astronomers. The thirty of them, a chant of honour ringing in their ears, descended the great staircase.

  From a window high in the House of the Stars, a scowling man watched them march away until they vanished into the distance.

  Five nights later, the Fertile Lands won their first victory. The Sideresians camped by the Red River were surprised by an attack which flew through the air, leapt on them, and destroyed them. From that first battle on, Dulkancellin’s companions began to talk of his bravery. They, and many more in times to come, swore they had never seen anyone fight the way he did. ‘Dulkancellin goes into battle as if death did not exist,’ some said. ‘As though he were already dead,’ said others.

  Very soon, the Sideresians themselves were talking of a fierce warrior with painted face and long hair ... And when they succeeded in cutting off a piece of his tunic to give to the black dogs to smell his scent, they began to call him ‘the prey’.

  But in the attack at Red River, the Husihuilke and his twenty-nine warriors emerged unscathed. None of the Sideresians was left alive. Those who tried to escape into the jungle were pursued by the Deer, who wielded his axe once more. Because the Deer knew that by the end of the war against Eternal Hatred, there would be the living and the dead. No prisoners, or truces, or mercy. Shortly after the combat, the all-seeing sun rose on the first of Misáianes’ dead in the Fertile Lands.

  As soon as they had recovered from their hunger and exhaustion, Dulkancellin sent four men back to the House of the Stars. These men left with the good news and with the animals with manes that were taken from the Sideresians. Dulkancellin had no wish to keep them, because he did not think they would be useful for this kind of combat. The only weapons they recovered were the long, sharp blades with which the Sideresians had tried to defend themselves. Elek of the Offspring asked to have one of them. When the others saw the way he handled it, they realized that such skill must come from distant ancestors who had used them in the Ancient Lands.

  Dulkancellin decided they should stay in the jungle, waiting for some messenger to come to the river looking for the Sideresians. He could not then imagine there were many more battles to be fought near by.

  After this Red River ambush, there were more and more reports of Sideresian forces. They were always few in number, spread out in the jungle. But however difficult the path they followed, the Creatures saw them, smelt them; they crawled, flew, and ran to tell Dulkancellin. He and his warriors were constantly on the move, seeking out the camps of the Sideresians. And whenever they came across them, they vanquished them.

  More men arrived from Beleram to help cover a constantly growing area. The warriors organized themselves in small bands which in those days became known as Goads. The Deer set out to defend the uncertain possibility of staying alive with such immense courage that he flew through the air. And it was at this time that someone made up a song about Dulkancellin’s bravery, which spread from mouth to mouth.

  Yet as the days went by, and despite their courage, the victories became fewer and more hard-fought.

  The Sideresians regrouped and began to return the blows. The Deer could no longer count on surprise in attack. The weapons that killed with fire were waiting for them, and the hungry dogs foaming at the mouth.

  The Deer knew that this was only the start of the war, that the Sideresians were no more than the claws of Misáianes’ outstretched hands. The master of the Side
resians wanted to take possession of every last corner of Creation. And even if the Fertile Lands defended themselves with every last bit of their strength, was there any hope against the Ferocious One?

  On their side, the Fertile Lands had the magic from the south, which roamed the mountains in the shape of an old, old man. And the magic of the Open Air, which was at one with the sky. On his side, Misáianes could count on a legion of ancient wizards who had become cruel within the solitude of their walls. What each side said was very similar. And the war had only just begun.

  The bands known as the Goads kept in contact with one another the whole time, and with Beleram. They knew where each other was, and they all received aid from the House of the Stars. In that way they could make up their losses and share their victories.

  The first weapons and animals seized as booty were sent back to Beleram. Soon, however, the Deer understood the need to keep fixed strongholds in the jungle. He chose convenient places and sent all that was won in the battles out to them. One of these strongholds was set up on the banks of the Red River, close to where the first attack had taken place. The other was hidden beyond the rocky outcrops which a little further to the east, in the centre of the territory, became the range of mountains known as the Jaguar’s Teeth. Both places served to store provisions, to supply care for the wounded, and reinforcements in men and weapons. This was where all the information was received, and the next steps decided on.

  As the days went by, skirmishes with the Sideresians became less and less frequent, until they almost completely stopped. The latest news reaching the strongholds was either wrong or out of date; in the end this only exhausted the warriors in useless manoeuvres.

  ‘They must have built their fortress somewhere in the Fertile Lands,’ said Dulkancellin in a meeting with his men. ‘That must be where the commanders are, those who know Misáianes’ plans ... and where can they protect the powder they use for their weapons? Their main force cannot be these small handfuls of men we come across. There must be a place where their power is concentrated, and it cannot be far from here.’

  It was night again, and nothing was happening. In their strongholds, the warriors of the Fertile Lands slept uneasily. This calm filled with fears and suspicions was not to their liking: they preferred to fight.

  Dulkancellin approached one of the sentries, seeking the company of another man who was awake. Seated on the same fallen trunk, he silently helped him keep watch in the night. At first light, I must talk with the others, thought the Husihuilke. We cannot linger here if the Sideresians have already left. Who knows? Perhaps we are exactly where they want us to be.

  His thoughts were answered shortly before the night’s end. The Supreme Astronomers sent out a call that Dulkancellin was the first to hear. The messenger, who had covered the distance between the House of the Stars and their camp in as short a time as possible, told him, still panting for breath:

  ‘The Supreme Astronomers send word ... They say that everyone is to return at once to the House of the Stars. Everyone except for those chosen to stay behind and defend the strongholds. The Astronomers say to make haste, great haste. That is all.’

  This order did no more than confirm what all of them thought should be done, and it was followed enthusiastically. The men who were to stay in the jungle were chosen, as were their leaders and runners. All the others set off again.

  Four long days to return. As the fifth day was dawning, Elek and Dulkancellin entered the observatory. They were encouraged by Zabralkán’s mood: even Bor seemed less gloomy than usual. Molitzmós, who was also present, rose to greet them as they crossed the threshold.

  ‘Greetings, brother warrior!’ he said, embracing Dulkancellin. ‘Many have wished to talk of your courage, but could not find the words to do it justice. We know that you alone vanquished as many enemies as ten of our best warriors could have done.’

  Dulkancellin was unable to receive praise without bridling. And he blamed his unease at the way the Lord of the Sun had received him on this weakness of his.

  ‘We fought with good results for as long as we could,’ he said, hoping to silence Molitzmós with this brief answer.

  ‘You will soon be fighting again,’ said Zabralkán. ‘And this time it will be a great battle.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Elek.

  ‘I mean that the Sideresians have their main fortress in the Border Hills. And that it is there that they are gathering their troops to march against us in a few days’ time.’

  This news from the Supreme Astronomer was no reason for him to appear so optimistic. But he had not finished.

  ‘You explain the rest, brother Bor,’ said Zabralkán.

  Bor was pleased to be given the opportunity to tell them the good news.

  ‘We have learnt with all certainty that two armies are coming to our aid. From the south, and already very close to us, are the Husihuilkes. They are led by someone we believe must be that Kupuka of whom Dulkancellin has so often spoken. There is still more. There can be no doubt our emissaries reached the land of the Lords of the Sun because from there – take heart, Molitzmós! – a powerful force is heading our way.’

  Elek could see that this was the first Molitzmós had heard of this development. Not because of Bor’s reference to him, but because of the stab of surprise that left the Lord of the Sun looking aghast. Dulkancellin however was already caught up in his own emotions, and so did not see the change.

  ‘Thank you,’ was all the Husihuilke was heard to say. And nobody knew who this was aimed at.

  25

  THE PLUMED ONE

  The hoops made Molitzmós’s ears seem elongated. The feathered cape sweeping the ground when he walked made him look enormous. Or at least that was how the Zitzahay children saw him: like an enormous brightly coloured bird standing by the side of the pond.

  Molitzmós had his eyes half closed to stare straight at the sun. The light that evening created a space of its own around the pond: a space Molitzmós’s eyes filled with people he knew, words that had already been spoken, and far-off events.

  The blood that the Lord of the Sun saw pouring from the edges of the sun came from old wounds. His father and twelve of his brothers had died to win power for his House throughout the empire. He had been very young then, but still could see in his mind’s eye the worst battle between the two Houses always disputing the legitimate right to the throne.

  The day his grandfather was on his deathbed, he demanded to see Molitzmós. When he was near, he went over the boy’s duties one last time. Molitzmós remembered how the list had begun: ‘We have educated you for high command.’ By then he was the only suitable heir, chosen above brothers and sisters who were too young – some of them sickly, one an idiot – and a threatening group of disloyal cousins. He had been taught the arts of alliances and betrayals. Now he had to make sure his House occupied its rightful place as ruler of the vast territory of the Lords of the Sun. His grandfather already smelt of death. Molitzmós swore him an oath he had never forgotten. Then he had to bide his time, growing up and learning that there was only one way to seize the throne: by spilling the blood of others.

  The colours of the sunset stained the air a deep red round the pond. When the children hiding behind a sculpted rock saw this, they thought that nightfall would soon mean they could not spy on Molitzmós any longer. He, though, knew this was not the sunset, but the blood needed to win victory.

  ‘I swore as much to the father of my father. And the truth is I have not yet fulfilled that oath to place our House higher than all the rest.’ Molitzmós saw himself saying these words to the man from the Ancient Lands. He reflected how hard it was to know how long ago this was. Neither a long nor a short time. A gulf.

  After that conversation, events had rushed onwards like the water in a river waterfall. Molitzmós, who once knew where everything began and where it was destined to end, was no longer so sure. Someone from the Ancient Lands came to speak to him of Misáianes. In his name, he
offered a pact between the powerful. ‘So that the House of Molitzmós shall always rule over the Lords of the Sun. And the Lords of the Sun over the Fertile Lands.’ Molitzmós accepted, thinking this was the way to fulfil his promise to his grandfather. Misáianes’ offer came when he had almost lost hope of being able to do so: it even offered him the chance to climb still higher. ‘The Lords of the Sun can be lords of the Fertile Lands’ : that was even more than what his grandfather had asked. The pact had appeared so obvious that Molitzmós could not understand why a misty cloud seemed to be obscuring the centre of the light enveloping the pond.

  He was keeping his side of the bargain. And if it had not been for the little Zitzahay, who always popped up where he was not wanted, the results would have been even better. He had not failed in anything, even in the secret successes. Thanks to his work blowing and blowing on the coals of arrogance, Bor was dreaming of a past of Enclosures that distanced him from Zabralkán and the rest of the Creatures.

  Misáianes had wanted a crack in the Magic of the Fertile Lands ... and now he had it! Molitzmós had succeeded in forcing one open, and making it bleed. The children saw the crack in the sky and thought it was the start of night.

  ‘I have done all they asked of me.’ From some part of the dying light, the Sideresian nodded in agreement. ‘I deceived the reigning House with false rumours and provocations. I put many of my allies in danger with an untimely revolt. I did all this so that you could take advantage of the confusion and install yourselves in our lands. I hid the truth, confused the weak, protected the flight of your ships ...’ Molitzmós shouted at the light hovering over the pond. ‘And in return ... what has your master done? Very little. I hardly receive any messages from him any more. Should I not know what his plans are if, as he said, we are equal partners in our agreement?’ The light heard Molitzmós out, then smiled from afar. This happened just as a crescent moon appeared in the sky.