Still not dead the snake’s body went mad, thrashing and flopping on the deck. Belam tumbled from its grip and gasped for air. Someone rushed forward to check on him, while others pulled the other injured man away. After a few moments, the snake had stopped moving and both men were free, but it was too late for the snake’s first victim. His body was broken and lifeless.
Sha’di turned back to see Tenok, Xupama and Qayset. Xupama’s long greying hair was a mess from sleep, and he had a shocked look on his face. He wasn’t staring at the snake though; he was staring at Qayset, who calmly walked over to the spear. She put her foot on the snake’s head and jerked it out. She looked at the dead man, shaking her head, then glared at Xupama.
“You don’t need my spear?” she asked in a loud voice.
Belam, still gasping for breath, looked up at her with wide eyes. “If he doesn’t want it, I will gladly take it any day.”
They were four more nights on the river, though there was no more trouble. Certainly, they decided to post two watchmen at night instead of only one. Sha’di couldn’t help but feel guilty. Dream or no, he had seen the warning, had seen the ripple in the water, and felt the dread as he looked at it. The notion that he had seen the danger coming and hadn’t been able to do anything about it made him feel unsettled. The rest of the voyage he could barely sit still, picking at the bones on his cloak, sharpening his fire knife on Qayset’s whetstone, swinging Nnenne’s lure absentmindedly into the water, where fish would come up and nibble at it curiously.
“Are you all right?” Tenok asked during one of the rare moments they were alone. They had stopped for lunch along the shore, and Qayset and Belam were casting nets into the water to catch their meal.
Sha’di shook his head. “I hope.”
“Tell me what’s bothering you,” Tenok leaned forward.
They were using the low tongue, Chaktan. It had become a bit of a secret language so far from Chultunyu. Most people understood the high tongue, Katan. Katan was the language spoken by all huitl so that pyramids had a common tongue, whereas every pyramid had a different local dialect called their Chaktan. Sometimes, they would use the Whisperer’s tongue as well, but Tenok still wasn’t fluent enough in it for a proper conversation.
“I worry…knowing something bad is…is not enough to stop it.”
Tenok looked at the river thoughtfully. “You mean…this great flood your gods warned you of? You don’t know if you can save us?”
Sha’di shifted uncomfortable. “That night, I think the gods warned me about snake. It was dream, or they wake me so I can see, but I saw…something in the water. I should have—”
“Stop,” Tenok said, not unkindly. “You saw something you didn’t understand and no one can blame you for that. You did not kill that man. If the god’s message isn’t clear, then what can you do?”
Sha’di thought of the dream. The dream he had had a hundred times since coming to the Grey Mist. He could see the woman’s face, her black hair withering in the intense fire that consumed her body. If he never figured out the dream’s meaning…then what could he do?
“That is what scares me.”
ILHAR L’EKAS LULIS
NOTHING STAYS SACRED FOREVER
The snows receded until only the highest mountain peaks were tipped with white. The spring was nearly over, and the pass west from Kuwana Tak was finally open. Tersh and Tuthalya had left the valley far lusher than when they had arrived, but the mood was sombre and dark, and Tersh resented the bright sun and cloudless sky as Estan, Tallis and Arinna said their farewells, their cheeks shiny with tears.
Tersh hadn’t been expecting much when she had first pictured Kuwana Tak, or Sheep Grotto, in her head. A sheep was an unimpressive animal. No respected hunter would wear the skull of a sheep on their head. And as for a grotto, well Tersh had never heard of such a thing, but the image it conjured in her mind was of a small, dark place. She had not expected to reach the other side of a jagged peak in the mountain pass and suddenly be blinded by lush grass and bright crystalline waters in the valley below them. She was going to miss it dearly, as well as the people she had met there. Once more she was being forced to say farewell to those she had come to care about.
Tersh tried to not think about Ka’rel, Ba’rek and Farek, but it was a useless gesture. She had to look away, focusing instead on the ram Tallis had given them to carry their things. She pet the beast of burden’s thick neck, smelling its musty scent, but that just reminded her of a camel and there was Farek’s smiling face, begging to be lifted up so he could sit on its back.
Arinna and Tuthalya spent a long tender moment in each other’s arms. She wasn’t showing signs of pregnancy yet, but already the entire village was buzzing about how she had the healthy flush of a woman with child. Tersh only hoped that Tuthalya would be able to return in time to see the birth.
Once they were away from the valley, it was back to the dull rocks, steep climbs, and perilous descents. They travelled in near silence, only sparing words on directions and deciding on what to eat when they made camp. The heavy quiet of their journey only seemed to lift when they were days away from Kuwana Tak and found themselves finally descending into another valley.
This valley was much smaller than Kuwana Tak had been, and although there were fields for their ram to graze within safety, most of the valley was taken up by a large circular lake. Tersh was taken aback a moment, bringing the ram to a halt as she looked at it in disbelief.
“It’s as round as the moon,” she said, wonder in her voice. The only place where the edge of the lake was broken was where a thin river flowed into the lake from the west, and another equally small river left from the east of it and disappeared into the mountains. Next to the rivers were large boulders covered in lichen and moss. Tersh assumed they were from rockslides.
Tuthalya chuckled softly. “You are exactly right. They say this is the Moon God’s mirror—that he wanted to see the moon in the sky in the mountain, so he brought the moon’s reflection to this valley and the lake was made. Ilhar L’Ekas Lulis, they call this place, God’s Mirror Lake. Once, this was the most sacred place in Matawe.”
“Once?”
“Nothing stays sacred forever—”
They continued their descent, following in the steps of the sure-footed ram, reaching the valley floor just as the sun dipped behind the mountain peaks and the sky became grey. There were only bushes and thistles to make a fire with, but they used the coals from their last fire to get it going, and before the darkness completely consumed them, they had a small fire and roasted some of their salted mutton over it.
“Why is it no longer sacred?” Tersh asked, her eyes on the lake. The surface of the water was so calm it reflected the tapestry of stars in the sky perfectly. It was too early for the waning quarter moon to rise above the mountains.
Tuthalya was quiet for a long time as he stared at the fire, as though weighing his answer against the enormity of the question. “The first great battle in the war was fought here.”
“Why?” The valley had nothing of value in it save the lake, and it wasn’t that large either. If a thousand men were to march here and battle, they’d be pressed up against each other in their struggle. She could only imagine they’d come here because it was flat land devoid of people.
“Why?” Tuthalya laughed softly. “I don’t think they bothered to ask why. They were at war, and that was probably all that mattered to them.”
Tersh took a bite out of her mutton, still too hot from the fire, but she was so hungry she didn’t mind the searing as she chewed. “How did it all start? The civil war, I mean. How can something like that last for over a hundred years?”
“Two hundred, at least.” Tuthalya sighed, “Do you really want to know?”
“If I’ve come here to end the civil war, I ought to know how it began. Don’t you think?”
Tuthalya nodded, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable.
“Before the civil war, the king�
�s seat was Nesate. The valleys flourished with livestock and metals. The stories of that time speak of an endless summer of joy. I’m sure it wasn’t really perfect. I’m sure the winters were just as harsh, and I’m sure they had their share of famine and sickness, but I do believe that it was better to live in those days than now,” Tuthalya frowned, stabbing at the fire with a stick, sending a shower of sparks up.
“It was the damned Paref of Mahat. Paref Amotefen, forever cursed be his name. He betrayed his gods, tearing down their temples and statues, only worshiping a god of his making, Tefen, the sun god. But all the people and good priests knew that Amotefen simply wanted himself to be worshiped as the king of gods, as well as the king of men, and the gods would not stand it.
“Amotefen built a city for himself at the base of the mountains. Today we call it Hattute. The name it bore before was scratched from the walls and was forgotten for all time. It was always known that the mountains belonged to the Matawega, and King Hatturigus the First was furious to learn of Amotefen encroaching into his kingdom. He called it an act of war. King Hatturigus was clever though. He knew he could not stand against the forces of Mahat, so instead he sent small bands to attack supplies being sent by ship and caravan.
“The city starved and rotted within its walls. A sickness spread and within a year, everyone in the city was dead. They say by the time General Thess, who took the name Paref afterwards, reached the city in order to steal his throne, Amotefen had thrown himself off his tallest pyramid, tumbling to the bottom as a mass of oozing blood and broken bones.”
Tersh tried to imagine it. Hattute had no pyramids, but much like the statues above the entrance to the Hall of a Thousand Gods, whose heads had been changed from parefs of Mahat to kings of Matawe, Tersh knew that most of the buildings now standing had been made by dismantling the Mahat buildings and recycling the stones into the dark stone huts that now stood at the base of the mountain. But before, the city must have looked similar to Nepata or Sareeb, with dark pyramids and temples consisting of columns and massive statues. The city would have been imposing, made from the nearly black mountain stones. It was in that city the Whisperers had been murdered, covered in melted bronze while still alive. She could imagine their screams echoing off the pyramids and onto the mountains.
“Hatturigus called back his men, but his eldest son, Prince Tuthalya—”
“Your name?” Tersh narrowed her eyes in surprise.
“It’s a popular name in the eastern valleys,” Tuthalya grinned.
Of course it was only a name they shared, but now Tersh could not help picture the Prince Tuthalya with his companion Tuthalya’s face, hair and goatee speckled with grey, tall and broad-shouldered. Easy with a smile, but deadly in a fight.
“Prince Tuthalya decided to take the abandoned city for himself. Perhaps, since he was still at the height of his strength and beauty, he wanted to prove himself as a man. Who can say why men do what they do? After they die, we are left with all the questions and none of the answers. He named the city Hattute to honour his father, but his father called the plan folly, and said his fool son would bring down the wrath of Mahat onto them. Despite King Hatturigus’ warnings and his declaration that Hattute would never be part of his kingdom, thousands joined Tuthalya in his new city.
“The city was built anew, walls reinforced and the Hall of a Thousand Gods rededicated. For a time Prince Tuthalya had a peaceful kingdom at the base of the mountain, until a new paref took the throne. The Paref Rama, still called the greatest paref who ever ruled in Mahat, six generations later, came to the throne.”
Tersh remembered rather distinctly that Samaki never wanted to say a good thing about the descendants of Paref Rama, and when he was forced to he would have such a strained fake smile on his face that Tersh could not believe the first Paref Rama was honestly revered.
“By this time the people of Hattute had grown brazen and overconfident. Many would sneak into Mahat and plunder villages, always able to return to the safe walls of Hattute before the Mahat soldiers could catch them. Paref Rama grew angry with such blatant disrespect and led the greatest army ever seen. There were a thousand thousand men, each wielding a bow and mounting a chariot.”
Tersh narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She had a hard time believing most stories, but this one was particularly preposterous. For that many people to show up, the entire Mountain Mahat would have to be drained of manpower. But then again, stories were more fun when the stakes were that much higher, and so Tersh kept her mouth shut, curious about happened next.
“Of course King Hatturigus was furious. He disowned Tuthalya immediately, and named his second son, Prince Takalti, as his one and only heir. Hattute lay under siege for a year, the walls proving too high for the arrows of Mahat and too thick for a charging chariot. Paref Rama could have brought twice as many men and not broken through those walls.”
“What kept them from starving?” Tersh had been inside those walls, and she knew there was no space to grow crops or keep livestock. They relied on the surrounding fields for that. Surely they couldn’t survive if they closed their gates to the outside world.
“From within the walls you can reach the mountain pass. There are hundreds of secret passages into the city, some say even into the Hall of a Thousand Gods, but to go through them you need know a powerful magic. Prince Tuthalya had an endless supply of food from the valleys.”
The closest valley to Hattute was Kuwana Tak. She could imagine people, nearly identical to Tuthalya’s family, transporting extra grain and livestock into the secret passages in order to feed the city, the other side of which was being bombarded by the enemy Mahat.
“Finally, the Paref grew tired of this and declared that as long as every man, woman, and child in the city swore never to raise arms against the people of Mahat or within its borders, there would be peace. Clever Prince Tuthalya could see how desperate Paref Rama was to end this pointless siege, so although he agreed to the Paref’s terms, he demanded the Paref grant them more lands.
“Perhaps this victory would have brought father and son together again, forgiving past follies and making Tuthalya the rightful heir once more, but before that could happen, King Hatturigus was assassinated, poisoned at his own dinner table. Of course, both brothers blamed each other. They both claimed the crown, Takalti keeping Nesate for his seat, and Tuthalya remaining in Hattute, naming it the new royal seat. And suddenly, we had the King Over the Mountain Takalti and the King Under the Mountain Tuthalya.”
“The titles Hatturigus and Laberne use today,” Tersh sounded grim.
“Yes. This civil war has continued since that day—nearly two hundred years ago. At the beginning though, although the brothers were constantly accusing the other of being a monster who had stolen the throne, they remained in their capitals, married to wives who gave them sons. While their wives were nursing princes, the kings were building armies. They improved armour to a level never seen before.”
He paused, looking up from the fire to the darkness that surrounded them. The land was completely black, save for the circular lake that reflected a mirror image of the starry sky and waning moon above it.
“Once there were two temples here,” he pointed to the west side of the lake. “There was the Temple of the Moon God and there,” he pointed to the east side, “was the Temple of the Sun God. They say a single stone arch reached over the lake, connecting the two temples.”
Tersh remembered seeing the piles of rubble, now hidden in shadow, assuming they had come from a rockslide. She hadn’t realized they were all that was left of once beautiful temples. She remembered suddenly the ruined temple where the Rhagepe had their calendar ceremony, how it was nothing more than three intersecting circles of crumbling walls. What had that temple looked like once? Why is it temples were allowed to fall in the first place?
“You have to understand that these armies had spent five years preparing for this moment. Their bronze armour was unblemished and shining, their helms buffed and
tipped with poisoned spikes. Their bows were taut, and the quivers at their waist were overflowing with freshly fletched arrows. These men had done nothing but prepare for this day, and they had already decided it would be the most glorious battle the gods had ever witnessed. Perhaps that is why they gave no ill thought to fighting here, or perhaps they wanted to shed blood on holy ground.
“They say they stained the holy lake red. They fought through the day and into the full moon. It wasn’t until the sun rose on the red morning they realized the temples had toppled over, perhaps from fire or careless blows to its fragile columns and supports. Takalti won the day. Tuthalya’s entire army was eviscerated. Takalti took his older brother and had him held prostrate over the ruins of the temple, and Takalti executed him there.
“All the blood that flowed into the water that day was cursed. They were all Matawegan, they had all been born from Mother Mountain’s womb. It was brother killing brother, and when Takalti murdered his older brother on the sacred temple stones, he sullied this place and all of Matawe forever.”
“But if Takalti won, how is it there is still a King Under the Mountain today? And why are they working together when before they were enemies?”
“It could have ended that day, as well. This war could have ended so many times, yet it persisted, always growing worse and bloodier. That is how I know Hattute is to blame. Amotefen cursed that place, with the blood of the Whisperers and by betraying his true gods. So long as my people try to hold onto it, Matawe is cursed, too.
“Takalti marched to the city to take the throne, and for the briefest moments we were a single kingdom once more. But he arrived too late. By the time King Takalti entered the Hall of a Thousand Gods, Tuthalya’s son had been spirited away, and when he grew, he returned and disputed Takalti’s claim again and so the civil war was allowed to continue.”
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 15
