Tupa pulls me up out of the water, and I stand.
It takes me a moment to realize that he no longer needs to hold me. My legs are working perfectly fine. The pain of the transformation is gone. The pain of my injury is also gone. I put my hand to my hip, expecting to feel a hole from where my father’s spear pierced me, but there is nothing but smooth skin. I am healed. Tupa’s arms are still around me though.
“It’s a little different when you’ve been injured, isn’t it?” he asks with a smile, and I see that the tears are still in his eyes. I nod in answer, still too shaken from the experience of becoming human again to speak. “Rosara, what happened?” Tupa asks. “Why were you hurt? Who did that to you?”
Memories of the previous evening slam into me. I must warn him. “It doesn’t matter what happened to me. Tupa, I have to warn you—”
I stop. The light is growing more intense. Dawn is nearly here. “You must change!” I yell at him. “Now!”
Realization ripples across his face. A few more seconds and it will be too late. He will change into his jaguar form forever and never again become a man. He slips wordlessly into the water, and I wait impatiently for him to surface. I have to warn him. Maor is coming with men from the village to kill him. We must run deep into the heart of the jungle and hide.
I am anxious to speak to him. Time passes, and I begin to wonder if something has happened. Finally the jungle king’s jaguar head lifts out of the water, and he begins to swim back to shore. I follow him, eager to tell him what we must do. Just as he climbs ashore, a cry rings from the trees. A spear flies through the air and lodges in Tupa’s shoulder.
He drops to the ground. One paw bats at the spear while he unsuccessfully attempts to pull it out with his mouth. I run to him, trying not to care about the sound of someone rushing toward us through the jungle. I grab the end of the spear but cannot see its head; it is embedded too deeply.
Tupa’s eyes roll back in his head. Fear overwhelms me. I don’t know if I should dislodge the spear or if that will cause more damage. I know I must decide quickly. I grip the pole and pull it out with a quick jerk. Tupa’s body spasms briefly, and blood pours from the wound.
This cannot be happening. The words have only an instant to pass through my mind before I am struck in the back of the head and fall to the ground. I do not lose consciousness, though black dots dance before my eyes. A hand yanks me onto my back, and for a moment all I can see is the canopy of jungle trees until a face hovers above my own.
Maor bends down and lifts me off the ground by my hair. “Good morning, Rosara. I’m glad you are not dead. Yet.”
He drops my head, and it slams back into the ground. The black dots spin again.
“I’ve been watching you for some time, you know,” I hear him say above me. “It wasn’t difficult to track you through the jungle. I knew that the beast would come for you. For a while I thought you might die, but then that man arrived and pulled you into the river. I didn’t know who he was at first, but when you walked out of the river as a girl, with the beast beside you, I knew what you both were.” He leans down and presses his cheek against mine, and whispers into my ear. “You are demons. And you must be destroyed.”
My vision clears just in time to see Maor pick up the spear from the ground and hold it above me, preparing to plunge it into my chest. I don’t even have time to shout out before he pulls his arm back.
From the corner of my eye I see Tupa lift his head, and then his whole body flings through the air and crashes into Maor. The whoosh of the air parting around the tip of the spear sounds in my ear as it embeds itself in the dirt just a hair’s breadth away from my head.
A loud hiss comes from Tupa, and tension ripples through his body. He has knocked Maor to the ground, and now he stands between us. Tupa’s head is tucked low to the ground, and his shoulders roll, indicating that he is waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. I scramble to my feet and brace my legs, ready to run in any direction.
Maor pulls himself off the ground, his eyes huge with fear and fire. A lonely beam of sunlight has made its way through the canopy above us and shines on the knife in Maor’s hand. I know that someone here will die.
Tupa growls but then begins to back up, pushing against me, forcing me back toward the river. Maor follows. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he holds the knife in front of him, swinging it back and forth.
I step back into the water of the river. A shriek escapes Maor’s mouth. His lips curl back, exposing his teeth, as he rushes toward us with his knife flying through the air. Tupa rears onto his back legs and catches Maor between his great paws. I see the knife for an instant and watch as it impacts skin, muscle, and bone.
Tupa roars and falls backwards onto me. I see the blade protruding from his chest before I plunge backwards into the river.
Water covers me. It isn’t deep, probably just over my knees if I were standing, but on my back I’m completely covered. I see nothing, though I feel Tupa on top of me, pinning me down. In my surprise, I gasped in a mouthful of water, and my lungs ache to expel it. My throat burns. I push against Tupa’s body, but he is too heavy. Frantic, I beat my hands against him. Finally he moves.
I sit up and cough out water. Wet hair plasters my face, and I push it aside just in time to see Maor dislodge the knife from Tupa’s body and strike him once again in his side. I’ve never heard a jaguar scream before. The sound of it sends a sickening shiver down my spine.
I don’t realize what I’m doing, but suddenly I’m flying through the air, grabbing, kicking, punching, scratching, biting—anything I can do to bring Maor down. I target his chest, reopening the wounds I gave him in my jaguar form. My human body is no match for his, and after his initial surprise, he is easily able to fend me off, and he pushes me back down into the river.
I look to Tupa. His mangled form lies half in the river, half on the bank. I cannot tell if he is still breathing. Please, still be breathing!
Maor stands between us and speaks. “I would have made you my wife, but you would rather be with this demon beast. You belong together then. In death.”
He walks toward me, and I try to get to my feet, but he is too quick. I feel his hands grab my arms from behind. His foot hooks my legs, and I fall, face first, back into the river. Maor pins me to the floor of the riverbed, his knee jammed into the small of my back, my body sinking down into the muddy sand of the river bottom.
My throat and chest ache for air. I need to breathe. I struggle against the need to take a breath, but my body acts on reflex, and water rushes into my lungs, burning all the while. I thrash and twist, but there is no escape. I know I am going to die.
After the longest moment of my life, a peace settles over me. Darkness comes. Just a few moments more, I tell myself. It will soon be over. Tupa and I will be together after all, in death.
The pressure on my back lifts. A moment passes. Something grabs on to me. It’s sharp. Painful. It pulls on my arm. I break the surface again. My body is dragged out of the river, and my lungs heave. I vomit out water and hungrily suck oxygen deep into my burning chest.
I sit up on the riverbank and see Maor’s face staring at me with vacant eyes, his body floating in the water, making its way into the current where the river will carry it downstream. I watch his carcass disappear from view and let out a breath of relief.
Chapter 11
I HEAR TUPA release a sigh, wet and gurgling. I turn away from the river to see him lying on the bank just behind me. His beautiful fur is coated with blood. I’m not sure whether all of it is his, but certainly much of it is. Gashes all over his beautiful body bleed freely. He breathes in great heaving pants. I rush to him, eager to help but afraid I might hurt him further.
There is so much I want to say to him, but the only words I can muster are “Tupa, you saved me.” I bury my head in his neck and wrap my arms around his great body. A sob escapes my lips. “Don’t leave me. Please,” I beg him.
His voice is quiet and raspy, hi
s body shaking with effort. “I’m sorry, little bird. It seems I am bound for the great iwa. I promise to look after you from there. Always.”
“No,” I argue. “It’s not your time yet. You belong here with me.”
“I don’t think it’s up to you,” he says with an agonized rumble in his throat. His eyes close. I shut my own tight and pray more fiercely than I’ve ever prayed before.
Oh great karawara, spirits of the jungle, hear my cry! My heart lifts my prayer to the canopy, and I hear it echoed in the call of the birds, the breezy shaking of the leaves, and the ripple of the river waters. Tears stream down my face as Tupa’s breaths become more and more shallow. It will not be long now.
Please, please deliver him. I will sacrifice myself. I will sacrifice!
The throaty warble of a bird rings in my ears, and I look up to see a ghostly white egret standing on the lowest branch of a tree just beside me. He stretches his head toward me and speaks. “Would you truly give your life for this beast?” he asks.
I can barely see the bird for the tears in my eyes but nod in its direction. “Yes,” I say, “I’ll give anything I have to offer if you’ll save him.”
“I told you that magic always requires sacrifice,” the bird says. “In order to save his life, you must give up yours.”
I speak without reservation. “I give it. Gladly.”
The bird’s feathers rustle. He unfolds his wings partially and refolds them again. He is agitated or excited, I’m not sure which. “Do you love him?” the bird asks.
Love? The word itself had never entered my mind before. Admire, respect, treasure? Yes. All of these words come easily. I gaze down at Tupa’s face. I can see through his jaguar form to the man within—a man who has saved me more than once. A man who has fought for me. Who may die for me.
Love him? How can I not?
I nod. Tupa’s breath rattles in his chest. There isn’t much time. “Tell me what to do.”
The bird’s head bobs a few more times as his long neck snakes back and forth. He finally answers, “Pull him into the river. The magic will heal him there.”
I waste no time and haul Tupa’s heavy jaguar body into the river a few inches at a time until the water helps lift his body fully into the river. I pull him close to my chest.
The karawara signals me. “Now. Push him beneath the surface and allow the magic to heal him.”
I bend my head over his, kiss his forehead, and say, “I love you, Tupa. Please live.”
I push him under.
Nothing happens at first, and I fear I am too late. Then Tupa’s body jerks and tenses beneath my hands. I feel his back arch, and I remember the pain I felt when the river healed my own broken body. I thought I was dying. My heart aches for Tupa as he undergoes the same pain, but I continue to hold him down until the healing is complete.
He changes in my hands. The fur on his body recedes, leaving behind the smooth flesh of skin. His muscles roll and twist beneath my fingers, snapping into place in their human form. Finally Tupa stops jerking. His hands lift above the surface and clasp my arms. I release him, and he rises up out of the water. I think I have never seen anyone as beautiful in my life.
“Rosara,” he says, “you saved me.”
I can only nod. There is too much in my heart to speak. I know I do not have long. I made a bargain with the karawara, and I will be held accountable for it soon. I may have only seconds left with Tupa before I die.
He pulls me into his arms and holds me tightly. I relish his embrace and can no longer hold back the sorrow of nearly losing him. He steps back and looks into my eyes. His seem like great pools of darkness that I could swim in forever.
“Is it true?” he asks. “Do you truly love me?”
My voice has lost its strength, but I am able to whisper, “I do.”
He pulls my face to his, and his lips are on mine. I press against him and hold him tightly, fighting against the fear that threatens to overwhelm me. His embrace is as forceful and wild as my own, and I wonder if he knows what I’ve chosen to give up for him.
Although I am afraid, I do not regret it. I love him. I will always love him. I will love him from beyond, and vow to watch over and protect him when I reach the great iwa where our ancestors rest.
Our lips part too soon. I yearn for more. But I have made a promise, and it is time to keep it. I turn my head to the shore and see the karawara’s feathers splayed out in all their majesty. He is beautiful indeed.
Tupa takes my hand in his, and together we walk to the water’s edge.
“Rosara has made a great sacrifice for you, Tupa,” the karawara says. “She has given her life for yours. It is time for her debt to be paid. The magic of the river demands its payment.”
Tupa’s hand clutches mine tightly. I see anger flash across his face, quickly replaced by fear. He is about to speak when the great white egret says, “Come, child.”
Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. I don’t want to die, but more powerful than my fear of death is my need for Tupa to live. I tear my hand from his and walk to the bird.
“Take a feather,” he says, and I remember living this moment just yesterday. It seems a lifetime ago now, when I became a jaguar. The lacy feathers quiver as my hand catches one. I look at Tupa. I know from his expression that he can see my love for him. I hope it will be enough. I know it can never be enough. I pull.
There is a slight resistance, and then the feather comes free from the bird’s body. I hold it in front of me. A droplet of blood sits on the tip of the quill.
The karawara tilts his head toward Tupa. “Now you,” he instructs, “take your turn.”
Tupa’s surprised expression matches my own. Why should Tupa have to partake in this? I don’t understand. I made the bargain with the karawara, not Tupa.
He doesn’t hesitate, however, but pulls out a feather as well. We stand staring at each other. I am wondering how much time we still have together. I wonder if Tupa is thinking the same thing. These moments are precious. I do not want to waste a single one.
“The sacrifice has been made,” the bird says. “Throw the feathers into the middle of the river.”
Tupa and I walk out into the river and release the silky egret feathers. As soon as they hit the surface they melt into a burst of color that travels through the water toward our bodies. Light surrounds then envelops us. It’s warm and not unpleasant. I hope it won’t be painful to die. I look to Tupa. He is smiling and holds out his hand to me. I grab it and hope to continue holding onto him as we step into our afterlife together.
The light fades and recedes back through the water to two brown feathers floating on the surface. I don’t understand. Shouldn’t I be dead by now? Shouldn’t I be walking through the misty land of the iwa?
I turn around in time to see the karawara fly up and into a tree. He turns and looks at us as if he is studying us. Perhaps that is what he is doing. Perhaps for him it was just a game. Or a test. “I don’t understand,” I say to him. “I thought I was going to die.”
“Yes, well . . . life is completely predictable only in its unpredictability. Besides, you did die in a way,” he says in his silky-smooth voice. “Your life as a jaguar is over forever. It has been sacrificed.”
It takes a moment for the karawara’s words to sink in. By the time I realize what he has said, he is gone and Tupa is pulling me against his chest in a tight embrace. His lips press down hard against mine, and joy fills my heart as I understand the gift we have been given. No longer must we live half-lives, part beast, part human. We will no longer be subject to sharing only a few, brief moments together in the twilight of day and night. We’ve been given a chance to start again. Together.
I pull back from Tupa and gaze into his eyes. I will never be tired of staring into them. I have to force myself to look away from him, just for a moment. I need to give thanks. I look to the tree where the karawara stood just a moment ago and offer up a prayer of thanksgiving.
I turn back
to Tupa and delight in his embrace. Together we cross the river to the other side and begin the journey to his village. Hand-in-hand we walk into the heart of the jungle.
DORIAN TSUKIOKA writes fairy tale retellings, young adult fantasy, and science fiction with just a dash of romance thrown in. When she’s not writing, Dorian teaches 5th graders in Kansas City, MO, or she can be found chasing after her two, pixie-esque daughters. She has a love of learning and teaching, and loves to talk about books with anyone who will listen, especially if the conversation includes cinnamon-chip scones and caramel lattes.
You can find out more about Dorian and her writing on her blog: www.DorianWrites.blogspot.com
For my grandparents:
Carol & Norman Parker
Robert & Shirley Sorensen
Alvin & Patricia Wand
and my great-grandmother,
Alice D. McGee
who tell the best stories from my family’s past
SCOTTISH NAME PRONUNCIATIONS
Sorcha, pronounced “SAOR-aa-Kaa”
Calum, pronounced “Kay-lum”
Seònaid pronounced “she-OW-nuh”
Róis, pronounced “ROESH”
Prologue
I FORGET THINGS more easily these days.
It seems that the older I get the more scattered my mind becomes. Yet as my present memories escape my grasp, my older ones only grow stronger. My eyes have gone dim with age, and my hands feeble and stiff; yet when I close my eyes I am a little girl again, and I can still remember everything about that day. The day my world was stolen from me and I was thrust into the depths of a living nightmare.
It was early spring, and the wind howled around our family’s stone castle, warning of an approaching storm. I wasn’t cold; the fire crackled by the hearth, and my father held me in his arms as he so often did. I was the only child of my widowed father and, looking back, I realize now that I was probably a bit spoiled.
Five Enchanted Roses: A Collection of Beauty and the Beast Stories Page 30
