“We’re coming,” Lali echoes, her voice shrill like a bird shriek. Surely the boy heard that.
The jaguar did. Without even looking behind, it snarls at us. Stay back, this has nothing to do with you.
Ignoring our intrusion, the big cat continues to eye its prey, cornered against the buttress of a giant tree. It growls ready to pounce.
Curled in a ball, his head huddled beneath thin, skeletal arms, the boy doesn’t move.
“We’re here to rescue you,” I call.
The jaguar turns and strips my skin with threatening eyes. I’ll deal with you later. Scowling, it focuses back on the boy.
Almost as tall as me, the huge cat is a ripple of small movements. Barely sheathed claws grip the forest floor. Ears flatten. Teeth click. Muscles tense. The beast prepares itself to leap.
But the boy is not watching. Head down, his shoulders slump in resignation. He has decided not to fight death. He is not like me. I kicked and raged while I waited to die. Even when I knew I could not escape I crouched, waiting for one last swipe at my captor. But this boy is willing to die.
The jaguar senses it too and flicks its long tail in anticipation. Time stops and the moment swings suspended between us. The cat crouches to deliver the killing strike and the boy looks up with grey, lifeless eyes. He is beyond fear. Already dead.
I won’t let him give up. Not if I can do anything about it.
“Yah. Yah,” I yell.
Back arched, rhythm broken, the jaguar turns towards me. Its amber eyes blaze with fury. But I stand my ground. I know what to do, even though I’ve never done it before. I hold my lance firmly, hoping the wood is strong and true. Hoping I’m doing it right. A temple slave doesn’t learn to use weapons and my hours spent transcribing the Serpent-Sun god’s empty words are no help to me now. Lali has placed her arrows on the ground and we stand together, lances poised. As the jaguar jumps, we thrust the lance points skyward.
An enormous weight rams me to the ground. Something sharp scrapes against my skin. I feel the gentle phtt as my lance ruptures through the soft underbelly of the big cat’s throat and a strange gurgling sound fills my ears. Someone is choking. Is it me or the jaguar? The jaguar shudders. Then nothing. No movement at all.
In death, the great cat’s soul touches deep inside me. Like a mirror image, my jaguar spirit answers. My skin tingles, every nerve aflame. But I am not afraid. I want this to happen. I look out at the world through other eyes. The green damp fills my lungs and I breathe deep, as if for the first time. So many new smells. So many new sounds. Finally, I am one with the jaguar.
My nose fills with the scent of blood. It’s everywhere. It drips into my mouth. Cough. Splutter. I push the huge body aside and shake myself free of its eyes. Once golden with bronze blotches, the jaguar’s fur is smeared bright red.
Lali gets gingerly to her feet. She takes the hand I offer, wet and slippery with blood. “Thanks.”
The boy hasn’t stirred. Not even to lift his head.
From behind a nearby tree, a man emerges. He is short and sinewy like all the people of the coast. I was there on the temple steps when twenty of them, roped and tied, gave their blood to the sun. But this man is a merchant. Every city welcomes him with open gates for the wares he carries and the information he brings, often more valuable than cacao beans.
The man’s coat is ornately decorated with the colours of the quetzal bird’s tail yet his boots are well worn. He is a man who has grown rich by travelling far. But already I don’t like him. What sort of man hides behind a tree and watches a jaguar attack a child? Only a coward would do that.
“Thank you for rescuing my slave,” he says.
He doesn’t move to comfort the boy. Only his eyes shift, backwards and forwards. I don’t trust a man who is always weighing the odds.
“I will, of course, pay you a reward. The boy has been in my service for many years. It would have been such a waste to lose all the time I have spent training him.”
My skin prickles at the merchant’s arrogance. “Perhaps you should look after your slave better,” I mutter.
“Perhaps you should mind your manners,” he snaps.
A slayer of jaguars, I’m bigger and taller than this man. And I am not a coward. I’m about to say so when, from the corner of my eye, I see Lali shake her head. So I wait to see what she’s planning. I owe her that much after she faced the jaguar with me.
“We didn’t mean to offend.” Lali smiles and the merchant almost smiles back. “If you have some medicinal herbs, I could heal the boy for you.” Her voice drips like lily nectar. “Then he would be able to return to his duties much sooner.”
Eyes narrowing, the merchant balances the cost of the herbs against the boy’s usefulness. He doesn’t care whether the boy suffers. He doesn’t factor that in at all.
“How does a young girl know such things?” the merchant asks suspiciously.
“My father is a doctor with the army of Mexica and I have watched him operate many times.”
The lie slips effortlessly. Or maybe it’s not a lie. Lali didn’t tell me what her father does in the army.
“I see no reason to fritter medicine on the boy when time will have the same effect. He is young and strong and a stout stick around his knees will have him walking again tomorrow. However, if you wish to treat the boy, you can,” the man says. “That will be your reward and then I will owe you nothing.” He smiles, a wide pointy-toothed grin.
It seems not all crocodiles lie in the mud of the lake. Some walk on two legs through the forest and I would like to hit this one over the snout with a large club.
Lali nods and begrudgingly, the merchant hands her a small bunch of herbs.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “I’ll also need some water to make a paste from the ground herbs.”
Her tongue is smooth like river stones but I sense the current underneath. She despises this man as much as I do.
“I’ll spare a few drops. No more.” He hands a bottle to Lali.
I turn my attention to the dead cat while Lali prepares the medicine. Carefully, I cut and peel the jaguar pelt from its body. It’s tempting to slice quickly but it would be disrespectful to risk puncturing the hide. Instead, I bury my elbows between the skin and muscle, pushing, tearing, ripping until the broad stretch of fur is free. Finally, I slice at the forelocks and the job is done.
The merchant eyes the fur. It’s worth a lot of money in any marketplace.
“You may have the jaguar body,” Lali tells him. “The meat and innards are yours but the skin belongs to me.”
No, it doesn’t. It belongs to me. But I bite my tongue. It is not the right time to argue.
“Your boy needs to rest for a day,” she continues. “He should be allowed to sleep. The cuts are shallow and will heal without infection now. But his mind is not well and only rest will cure that.”
Eyes empty as a starless night, the boy stares into the forest. The merchant tips his head back and roars with laughter. “That’s nothing new. A sharp slap across the face and he’ll snap out of it. He always does.”
I’d like to smack the merchant instead.
“So what are you doing out here on your own?” he asks. His voice is friendlier now yet his eyes are still shifting. Danger lurks under every word but Lali knows how to handle it.
“Merchants are well respected for their knowledge of the affairs of all cities. I am sure a man of your experience and stature has heard Tenochtitlan is under Spanish attack.”
The man nods self-importantly.
“My father sent me away until after the battle is won.” Lali sighs. “He is a hard taskmaster, always testing my obedience. I must travel west for four moons and then return. I am certain he will send a soldier to ensure I am doing as he instructed.” She glances over her shoulder.
The merchant looks around too, nervously. Then, seeing nothing but the forest and three children, one holding a valuable jaguar pelt, his greed makes him bold.
“Are y
ou really her slave, boy?” An arm snakes out to jerk me towards him. His face is suffocatingly close to mine, a sweet, rotten smell like overripe tomatoes.
I want to bellow that I’m not. To insist I’m free. But caution holds my pride in check. I nod my agreement.
“A merchant hears many secrets and I know what Tenochtitlan’s priests would do at a time like this. They would send a runner to get help. A young boy with strong legs.” His voice hisses against my ear. “I think it’s you. And that means you carry the key to a city. Hand it over, boy.”
“Don’t be foolish.” Lali pushes his hand away. “You do not want to anger my father. This boy is my slave. Show him your mark,” she commands me.
It’s the first time in my life I’m glad to have been branded a slave. I lift the waistband of my loincloth to reveal the red symbol on my left hip.
Lali reaches for the chain around her neck. Even this foreign merchant recognises the feather hanging there. Mexica’s powerful Eagle Warriors are feared in every city stronghold from the mountains to the sea.
“If you touch me or my slave again, my father will extract an apology in blood. And you would not be the first man he has collected from. An army surgeon knows how to slice. I promise you, your heart will still beat after it has been cut from your body.”
Even I shudder.
The merchant is quick to apologise. “I never intended any offence and I am sorry if I frightened you. My sole thoughts were for the welfare of two children travelling alone.”
I bet.
I scowl but Lali smiles. She can catch more flies with lily honey.
“Of course. My father has taught me to be wary of strangers, but I can see you are a man of honour. Please tell me about this runner,” she cajoles.
Foolishly, the merchant grins and puffs his chest beneath the many-coloured cloak. “Whenever there is trouble, the priesthood sends a runner to a nearby city. The runner carries a key granting immediate access to the High Priest there.” The merchant’s eyes glaze with greed. “Imagine the wealth and riches an experienced trader could negotiate with such an invitation in his hands.”
Lali giggles. “Look at my slave’s scrawny legs. He cannot even beat another slave in a footrace. How could you mistake this stick boy for a specially chosen runner?”
She’s enjoying this! I glare indignantly but the merchant chortles in agreement.
“I wish I could stay and talk longer,” Lali says. “But my father will be angry if he discovers I have been dallying in pleasant conversation instead of marching.”
The merchant laughs, good-naturedly now. “I have heard the parents of Mexica are very strict. Some say they hang their own children upside down inside the smoke of a fire of hot chillies.”
“It’s true. Now you understand why I must go when I would much rather listen to more of your stories.”
“Perhaps you would commend my name to your father. He may have heard of me already,” the merchant says pompously. “I am Nuxal, chief trader from the Bay Area.”
“I will tell him of your courtesy and respect.” Lali gestures to me to pick up both our packs.
I struggle under the weight of two packs, but the weight of leaving the boy behind is far greater. This merchant is more dangerous than any forest animal.
As I pass the boy, I stop and whisper, “We’ll come back to get you.”
For a brief moment a spark flares. Then the grey vacant eyes return to stare, unseeing, into the forest.
I don’t have time for a rescue mission. But I can’t abandon this boy either. Every creature in the forest has a right to its freedom.
Inside me the jaguar growls in approval.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE CAPTAIN
With the skill of a veteran campaigner, the Captain studies the abandoned canoe. He can see where they dragged it through the sludge. And he sneers at all the things they brought with them. Foolish children. They’ve probably still got huge packs strapped to their backs as they struggle through the forest.
Huemac, the hunter, carries only his water bottle, a pouch of dried deer strips, a bow and five arrows and his spear. Even then, he could leave all but the spear behind and like a good Eagle Warrior, survive on wits alone.
He wipes his palm across his shorn head, smearing the fine droplets of sweat. A warrior must capture four enemy soldiers before his head is shaved. In his first battle Huemac brought twenty captives to the Serpent-Sun Temple steps. It has been a long time since he had hair.
His sharp eyes notice fresh scuff marks on a large tree. The boys climbed here. He traces the scrape of their knees to the top. They would have looked homewards one last time and seen him paddling across the lake towards them. He grins as he imagines their panic as they suspect someone is following.
Ahead he spies the imprint of their feet on the forest track. They’re running now and he looks forward to the chase ahead. In the tree above, the parrots take flight as Huemac laughs even louder. Everything in this forest is afraid of him. Run, boy, run. He fits an arrow to his bow and drops a parrot to the ground.
Just because he can.
By tomorrow sunset it will all be over. The Serpent-Sun god will smile and Mexica will once again nestle protected in the snake’s coils. Huemac’s head echoes with the cheer of a great crowd gathering to welcome its city’s saviour.
He will bind the boys together tightly. They will be tired and exhausted but he will march on unyielding. He will drag them along the ground if necessary.
Just because he can.
Soon they will lie stretched across the Sun Stone. Maybe the Golden King will reward Huemac with a special honour. Perhaps he will be chosen as one of the four warriors holding each victim down.
Huemac settles against the trunk of the tree. Later he will cook the parrot to fill his belly. His heart wants to push on but his head knows a soldier will march faster if he eats and sleeps.
Tomorrow his heart will celebrate the victory.
CHAPTER NINE
ANOTHER BOY
As soon as we’re out of the merchant’s sight, I dump Lali’s pack on the ground.
“You can cart this now,” I growl. “I’m not a slave any more. Not for anyone.”
Some memories don’t heal. I’ll never forget how it felt to be beaten because the food was too hot or how it hurt to be kicked because the plate was too big for a child’s small, shaking hands.
The merchant’s slave boy is in even greater pain. I saw how he cringed and cowered every time his master spoke.
But he’s not the only one in danger. What about my slave friends? They have new masters now. Will the pale lords treat them any better than this merchant treats his boy? And the children of Tenochtitlan? Once free, will they now be condemned to slavery?
I drop to the ground, placing my head in my hands. It’s not fair. I want to run my own path but I can’t do it. Just as I have to rescue this boy, I have to rescue the others. I’ll never be free knowing I did nothing.
I have to go to Purépecha. There is no choice to be made.
“Sorry, Atl.” Lali slumps beside her pack. “Pretending you were my slave and that we were escaping the conflict at home was all I could think of. I’m sorry I upset you. The merchant Nuxal made my skin prickle.”
But I’m not upset any more. A load as heavy as slavery’s yoke has been lifted from my shoulders.
“If it makes you feel any better, you can carry my pack for a while.” I grin.
She throws a handful of sodden leaves at me. “I’m not feeling that bad.”
I sit down beside her. We’ve got a long way to go. Whether I like it or not, we have to work together. “We can’t leave the boy with Nuxal,” I say.
“I know. Are you suggesting you need my help?” Her eyes gleam with mischief.
“I don’t, but the boy does. We need a plan.”
“Haven’t you got one?” she teases.
It’s my turn to throw leaves at her. “My plan was to ask you.”
L
ali laughs and ducks. “I have an idea.” She is serious now. “Did you see all the bottles of pulque the merchant had?”
I nod. Sometimes old men sit on the temple steps and drink pulque until they are so unsteady on their feet, Ichtaca sends his most trusted slaves to help them home. Many times an aged drunken warrior leaned on my shoulder to bellow his pulque-laced song into my ear.
“Why would anyone drink something that smells like lake slime?” I asked once.
The old man smiled. “Because it puts wings on my feet. With pulque in my belly, my friends and I can run across the stars. Faster than the night rabbit.”
“Not me. I don’t need help to run.”
He smiled even wider, a sneer of rotten teeth and shrinking gums. “You are not old yet.”
This afternoon I feel older than ever before. A new urgency pushes me in the back and my feet ache at the thought of the run ahead. So much time has been wasted already.
“There were more bottles than one man would need for medicinal purposes. And it doesn’t keep very long so he wouldn’t be able to trade it all,” Lali muses. “One bottle was part empty.”
“Do you think he might drink the rest tonight?” I ask hopefully. Then we could simply walk away with the boy while the merchant was still staggering across the sky.
“I’m sure he will. What else is there to do here in the forest? By early evening he will be tired of sitting around.” Lali fiddles nervously with the strap on her pack. “While we wait, the Captain will draw closer.”
“He might even catch up to us. But we have to do this.” I reach for the token in my pouch. For once it doesn’t bring me any comfort at all.
“We’ll solve our problems one at a time,” Lali says. “Rescuing the boy should be easy.”
Everything else is hard. How fast can the boy travel? I’m in more of a hurry than ever before. I have to run to stay alive and to save the lives of everyone depending on me.
“We’ll run at half speed for the first day. If the boy is too slow to keep up, we’ll make a sled to pull him behind us,” I decide. “We need to reach Purépecha as quickly as possible and stay ahead of the Captain.”
Jaguar Warrior Page 4
