Blood Sun

23

Moments after the attack, Flint shouted at their attackers in Mayan. After a minute of uncertainty, they cut the net trap, thumping him and Xavier to the ground. The children stepped back, lowering their spears, but they stayed on guard as Max went to help Flint untangle himself from the net.

“They wanted to make sure who we were. I told them we were searching for your mother,” Flint explained as he got to his feet. “They’re like feral kids; they have to stay out of sight of the warriors.”

“The Serpent Warriors?” Max asked.

Flint nodded. “They’re scared of them, and they want us to get out of here now.”

This was no time for Max to start asking any more questions. Prompted by the sharp points of the spears behind them, Max, Xavier and Flint started running. They ran at a pace that nearly killed the older man. On and on they went, through barely perceptible gashes in the undergrowth, across crevices and streams, uphill and down. The high humidity made them gasp, and the heat attacked them like another enemy. Flint’s smoke-raddled lungs could not take in the oxygen he needed to keep going. Max and Xavier supported him and managed to keep up with the fast-running children.

They finally came to a makeshift camp, and it was obvious to Max that these children were not part of any formal settlement. The lean-to huts offered basic protection from the elements, like a forest shelter that any Boy Scout would make-branches, twigs, leaves and moss on a simple frame. Max realized they also offered good camouflage against any searcher who did not look carefully enough.

Four hours of grueling travel had taken their toll. Xavier gulped water offered to him by a young girl and then crumpled, exhausted, against the base of a tree. Max watched as some of the children helped drag the half-conscious Flint into the cooler air of a lean-to. These kids seemed organized. A young girl bathed Flint’s face; another fanned him with a big leaf. Once he had drunk more water, he seemed to recover quite quickly. Obviously the plant thief could endure jungle conditions. It had been the hard pace that caused him problems.

Max stayed on his feet, still wary of what was going on. If he needed to make a run for it, he would do so in an instant. One of the girls approached and offered him a gourd full of water. She smiled at him, nodded and said something Max didn’t understand. “It’s OK. They won’t hurt you. You’re safe now. Drink,” Flint translated.

Max spilled water over his face and felt his belly distend with a satisfying swig as one of the boys stepped forward and threw the broken-shafted spear and his blowpipe at his feet. He said something to Flint.

“He wants to know if I’m telling the truth about you searching for your mother,” Flint said.

Max made no attempt to pick up his weapons. He looked directly at the boy and girl and nodded. Dare he hope these wild-looking children knew anything about his mum?

The boy looked at him intently. They were of equal age and build-perhaps the jungle boy was sizing him up, wondering if Max posed a challenge. It seemed he was the spokesman for the group. Again he said something to the girl. She looked uneasy.

“When white people come here, they bring trouble,” Flint said quietly. “But they saw a Serpent Warrior run from the cave’s direction, which meant something had frightened him. It had to be you.”

Max looked directly into their eyes. Even if they did not immediately understand his words before Flint translated, he wanted to convince them of the truth. “We were attacked on the other side of the mountains before we came through the Cave of the Stone Serpent. I don’t mean to bring you any trouble.”

He extended his hand to the boy, reasoning that there was a hierarchy in this group and the boy should be greeted first.

“My name is Max Gordon. Yes, I’m trying to find out what happened to my mother.”

The boy ignored Max’s gesture and spoke again, looking to the girl, who said something in her gentle voice. She smiled and Max felt a seldom-experienced tenderness. She was beautiful.

“Boy’s name is Tree Walker, and she’s called Setting Star. They’re brother and sister,” Flint said. “Son, don’t you go all soppy on me now. She’s a pretty girl, but we’re still in deep trouble here.”

Max blushed. He hadn’t realized he had been so obvious. The boy gestured him toward the center of the settlement. He noticed there were no fires, but there was fruit laid out on broad jungle leaves that served as plates. Flint’s whiskers were already covered in yellow juices as he smothered his face like a dog in its feed bowl.

“Flint, you eat like a pig at a trough.”

“Aha. Eat as much as you can as quick as you can. I got a feeling these kids are gonna be on the move again, and soon. They’re scared. These Serpent Warriors are out there somewhere, and from what I can tell, they’re gonna be coming for you.” Flint sank his teeth into a huge slice of mango and sucked like a drain. In between slurping gulps, he translated as Tree Walker and Setting Star spoke quietly but with a sense of urgency. As if eager to rid themselves of painful memories.

“These kids’ve been separated from their parents for years. Before that they lived a simple life, mostly farming and fishing the rivers. The volcano causes them problems, like she’s bubbling now, and they expect her to rumble any day. These are bad signs. Lightning storms and volcano activity, and now you’ve appeared.” He hesitated. “I think this is as far as we go. They don’t want us with them; we’re bringing them trouble.”

Max was not going to be pressured by Flint. He looked around the camp; these youngsters had survived without their parents for years. If they could do that, then so could he. He needed to stay with them as long as it took to find the truth about his mother’s death.

“Flint, you can ask them to take you wherever you want to go, but I want to stay with them until we find out how my mother died and what’s happened to their parents.”

“Son, you don’t hold any sway over these people. You don’t mean nothin’ to them. They don’t want us around. Let’s just try to get out of here in one piece.”

Max knew he had to convince Tree Walker and Setting Star. There was only one way to do that. He had to tell them what he had experienced when he was in Africa. What he had told no one before. They needed to know about the shape-shifting and his animal instincts. What he did not know was whether this would frighten or anger them. Could his experiences be some kind of insult to Mayan beliefs?

“I need them on my side, Flint. Tell them my wayob is good and it is strong. Tell them it runs with me through the night.”

Flint nervously licked his lips. “You start talking about the spirit world, about things supernatural, and you’re pushing a stick into a hornet’s nest. People like me and them, we take that kind of thing seriously. Don’t fool with it; it’s dangerous.”

There was an uneasy moment of silence as the children looked to Flint and then to Max. They sensed uncertainty and perhaps discord. Xavier realized Max could be stepping into a world he knew nothing about and for the first time sided with Flint.

“Max,” he said quietly but pointedly, “listen to Flint. He’s right. You can’t mess with that stuff. I know what I said last night, but you tell these people somethin’ like that and they’re gonna expect you to show your hand. That’s shaman stuff; you can’t pretend with that. Come on, chico, let’s get out of here.”

“You tell them that I have gone through the tunnel of death. I have been to the other side and I came back. I have flown as an eagle and run as a jackal, and I have touched the spirit of the jaguar. My wayob calls me Brother of the Night.”

Xavier was stunned into silence. Flint got to his feet, as if to strike Max. He held his ground because something told him this strange English boy who had survived in this lethal wilderness was telling the truth. It was in his eyes.

“Tell them,” Max said.

As Flint spoke of Max’s shape-shifting experiences, the children fell silent and the looping calls of the jungle birds were all that could be heard. It was Setting Star who spoke first. She faced her brother and then the other children who got to their feet. Perhaps, Max thought, it was Setting Star who had the voice of the group.

“She says she believes you are a shaman and that they will help,” Flint said. “Their own parents were taken by the Serpent Warriors. Somewhere beyond the hummingbird god. It’s already killed a couple of the kids who tried to escape through the mountains.”

“Ask them about my mum. She was around here somewhere.” He gave the pictures to Tree Walker and his sister. “Was my mum with them? Was she taken as well?”

Flint asked the questions again and Tree Walker answered. Max listened to Flint’s translation.

“There’s a story about a white woman. She came in with a guide, but the woman got taken to the pyramid temple.”

Fear and hope mingled in Max’s heart. “Flint, don’t you see? That has to be where she was. You’ve seen the pictures.”

Flint shrugged. He did not want to tear apart Max’s hope. He glanced at Xavier, who sat listening.

“Cousin, it’s time for a reality check. Best thing we can do is get out of here. There has to be a way. We can’t go back through the cave-those guys will still be there. We gotta let these kids help us, yeah? There’s some really bad guys in here.”

Setting Star held one of the photographs toward Max. Her voice held regret. Max took the photograph back.

“She says this is near a temple of the Serpent Warriors. If your mother was there … then … well, then she wouldn’t have survived. That’s where they sacrifice anyone captured.”

Max felt the flutter of panic in his throat and chest. Terrible images of ritual killing flashed in his mind. And Mum. No! Was that why his dad had run?

“I don’ like the sound of these Serpent Warriors, cousin,” Xavier said.

Max’s hand trembled as he tucked the photograph away. He spoke directly to them as Flint translated. “My mother is dead. I know that. I want to know what happened to her. I need your help. I will not leave until I find the truth. Nothing else matters to me.”

As Flint translated, Tree Walker still seemed unconvinced, but he nodded when Setting Star touched his arm and answered Flint.

“They can take you only so far. They won’t go anywhere near the temples,” Flint said.

It was a small success. Max felt a surge of victory.

Three heartbeats.

One-Max saw a jaguar at the far edge of the clearing; then it disappeared into the forest.

Two-the birds fell silent.

Three-bloodcurdling screams shattered the stillness.

Then a sudden cacophony of conch-shell horns and wooden trumpets blasted the air as bass drums, like heart-stopping thunder, rolled through the trees. The forest edge shivered and changed shape as hordes of warriors yelled their battle cries and charged into the clearing. They were terrifying. Faces painted red and black, they wore plumes of feathers on greenstone-studded helmets and god masks of jungle creatures. All were armed with shields and flint-tipped weapons. Shrunken heads of victims slain in bygone wars dangled from their embroidered, sleeveless cotton jackets. It felt as if demons from hell had been vomited from the underworld.

Children screamed in panic. Tree Walker and Setting Star ran four meters in front of Max and stood firm, gripping their spears and bravely awaiting the charge-it was obvious they were going to defend Max.

Xavier ran, stumbled and tried to make himself small. Flint chewed through his cigarette, pulled his knife and awaited death. The blurred unreality of it all spilled across Max’s vision.

The horde of warriors surged forward, and Max did not flinch. Was it a moment of insanity? He was the eye of the storm. Still. Unmoving.

And then he yelled, “Don’t run! Don’t fight!”

Tree Walker and Setting Star turned at the sound of his voice. They did not understand his words, but the way Max stood-arms extended in a pacifying gesture, feet planted firm-told them everything. He was like a tree: rooted, un-moveable. Doubt momentarily crossed their faces. Then they shouted their commands. The children, and Flint, looked back to Max.

Somehow it all made sense. Why Max had stood his ground no one knew-perhaps pure instinct-but battle warriors would find no honor in killing someone who did not resist. Bloodthirsty slaughter may have been part of their heritage, but Max’s action stopped their leader from his advance. The surge stopped. The drums and trumpets fell silent.

Tree Walker and his sister ushered the children into retreat behind Max as a phalanx of warriors strode closer. Then they, too, stopped. The cave guardian pointed to Max, and a well-muscled warrior, who was obviously their leader, tentatively came a few paces closer. He lifted the wooden jaguar mask from his face and stared at Max.

The energy of the charge had eased into an uncanny silence. The warriors from the forest rippled as if the breeze brushed them. It was anticipation. Would their leader try to kill the Stone Serpent’s wayob?

Max’s fear seeped away. He felt strangely in control of his emotions. His legs had trembled when the attack started, his hands had sweated when he lifted the spear shaft, and his throat had dried seconds before he had spoken.

These were the Serpent Warriors-and they would know about his mother-and if their superstitions were intact, then they would take him as a prisoner to the temple pyramid.

The warrior signaled his men. They herded the children away from Max and began tying them with rope round their necks, ankles and hands. A dozen warriors surrounded Max, but he did not move. His back muscles prickled with the expectation of a spear being thrust into him, but he forced his mind-and his eyes-to stay locked on the devilish face of the Serpent Warrior in front of him.

The warrior reversed his spear and nervously bobbed forward, jabbing Max with the end, like someone scared of a corpse coming to life. Max was the unknown-how powerful was he?

Without the blood surge of the bellowing war cries, it was down to the warrior’s cold courage to determine whether Max could slay him with a look or a touch.

Max faced him down.

Keep your fear to yourself, son. You show you’re scared and you’ve given your opponent victory.

Dad’s voice. Uninvited. Contradicting his own cowardice.

Being frightened is natural, Max. We all go through it. See it for what it is. Be brave even when you don’t feel it.

Mum. Warm. Comforting.

This was all he could do. Everything else was out of his hands. Max stopped himself from saying something really stupid, like Take me to your leader. No sooner had the ludicrous thought flashed through his mind than he laughed aloud.

The warrior flinched. This boy-spirit had bared his teeth like a snake about to strike, in defiance of any fear. He raised his spear in an attacking thrust. And then nature saved Max’s life. The ground shook, rippling like a small wave, swaying trees, buffeting the grassland like a horse’s mane.

Earthquake.

Warriors and children flung themselves to the ground. The minor earth tremor threw those left standing to the floor. Except for Max. The shuddering energy below his legs made him instinctively brace himself. It felt like being on a snowboard running across uneven, broken ground on a ski run. He kept his balance. For a few brief moments, everyone lay facedown around him. The warriors looked up to see this manifestation from the Cave of the Stone Serpent standing above them-like a king. This wayob had power. He had laughed at their most ferocious warriors and then caused the earth to strike them down to the position of lowly servants, lying before him in subservience.

The tremor passed. The warriors got to their feet and-with a respectful distance between themselves and Max-gestured with their weapons that he should walk. Surrounded, he did as they wanted and followed the child prisoners into the forest.

Max felt an almost overpowering sense of anticipation. Every step now took him closer to finding the truth of his mother’s death and his father’s betrayal.