The Days of the Deer (32 page)

The jaguar began to lope away. But it had hardly left the camp when another man halted it with a whistle he had taught it to recognize. The jaguar knew this man too. His smell was always
together with the smell of the other one. This one also called him brother as he undid his feathered collar and slipped another one in its place.

‘Now you can go,’ he told the animal.

As if the jaguar had taken it with him on his rapid journey, the day raced past. ‘The jaguar must already be with the Lords of the Sun,’ some of those in the camp said. ‘Not
yet,’ replied others. ‘Hoh-Quiú and his men must have begun their march.’ ‘Not yet ...’ When two days had gone by since the jaguar left, even the least
optimistic were expecting Hoh-Quiú to arrive at any moment. ‘He’ll send out an advance party ...’ ‘He’ll come in person . . .’

‘I suppose you can hardly wait to see your prince.’ Cucub had already noticed that those words ‘your prince’ had a terrible effect on Molitzmós, and so never
missed an opportunity to say them.

The dislike the two men had for each other was well known, and put down to their different temperaments. Previous clashes between Cucub and Molitzmós had stayed within the bounds of a
strained politeness that fooled nobody, but made their hatred more tolerable. This time, however, things were different. Molitzmós wheeled round on Cucub, grasped him by his tunic and lifted
him off the ground. The Plumed One’s expression suggested he was the possessor of a terrible secret, which could destroy his adversary were he to let it slip.

‘I could tell you . . .’ Molitzmós hesitated. But Cucub had seen the venom flash on the tip of his tongue, and decided to continue to provoke the arrogant lord to get him to
reveal the truths he was hiding.

‘Dulkancellin is my leader as well as yours, and he will not be pleased by your treatment of me.’

Cucub was afraid. Looking deep into the Lord of the Sun’s eyes, he could tell that Molitzmós might kill him if he baited him any further. Yet
just a little more and his arrogance
will make him spill all he is hiding from his
mouth
, he told himself.

At that very moment, however, cries of alarm came from the far side of the camp. Molitzmós let the Zitzahay go and ran towards the commotion. Cucub scurried after him, convinced
Hoh-Quiú had at last been sighted. When the two men reached the others, they stood paralysed at what seemed like something from a nightmare.

The jaguar had returned, and was surrounded by a circle of horrified men. Round its neck was not a feathered collar, but a bundle tied in a bloodstained leather bag. Dulkancellin stepped forward
and untied it from the animal’s neck. As soon as the jaguar felt itself freed from the disgusting weight, it sped off into the jungle. Everyone in the circle knew the leather bag contained a
human head. At first, Dulkancellin was dreading only one thing: to find that it was Kupuka’s. That was the last thing he wanted. His hands struggled to undo the tight knots, but finally they
yielded. Everyone could see it was the severed head of someone who had without doubt been one of the highest Lords of the Sun.

‘Tell us, Molitzmós, do you know this man?’ asked Dulkancellin.

‘He is not young enough to be Hoh-Quiú,’ Molitzmós replied. ‘All I can say is that his ear-hoops show he was one of the nobles in the ruling House.’

Whoever he might have been, the message was clear. The army of the Lords of the Sun had been attacked by the Sideresians. Attacked and destroyed. It was a terrible blow for the warriors of the
Fertile Lands. What would happen now? Where were their enemies?

Blow upon blow rained on the heart of the Deer: at that moment guards from the north appeared. They were pale with fear.

‘They’ve appeared on the hillsides. The Sideresians have appeared; they will soon be upon us.’

All the men stared at Dulkancellin, waiting for his reply. For a moment, the Husihuilke felt brutally alone. In his mind’s eye, he saw the forest at the Ends of the Earth. He saw Old
Mother Kush and her life-restoring bread. Then, more than ever the leader of his warriors, he gave the first order.

The battle was drawing near, and it was not the one they had planned. It was going to be different, and would be fought before the auspicious day announced by the stars. And the Lords of the Sun
would not be with them. From Kupuka there had come nothing but an inexplicable silence. The Deer no longer had surprise on his side. Nor did he have the jungle’s protection. The battle would
be fought on the open lower slopes of the Border Hills. The number and valour of their warriors seemed to be the only advantage the Fertile Lands had. The number, their valour, and the support of
Magic. ‘And the strength of the earth, which will not abandon us on a day such as this,’ said the men.

By the time the Sideresians appeared on the horizon, the Deer had regained his courage and was ready to face them. The enemy was a black banner unfurling down the slopes. The Deer set out to
fight with the colours of fire, of the sky and of the earth painted on his face and battledress.

The army of the Fertile Lands would fight in the same formation as before, this time divided on two fronts. But now they also had cavalry. Like Dulkancellin, the other Husihuilke warriors had
immediately taken to the animals with manes. With Cucub’s help, they had learnt to ride skilfully and artfully.

As the Sideresians advanced, so did Misáianes and the great power contained in his name. The heart of the Deer was consumed with a single thought: his enemy’s true name. ‘The
Time we knew and loved has gone for ever. We are not here to shed tears over it, but to fight for the Time to come,’ Dulkancellin told his men before the battle.

The armies were ready, each drawn up on either side of the land. The battle was about to begin, and the world fell silent. The winds withdrew to a distant sky; the sea pulled back its waves; the
jungle sought refuge in its nests; mothers hushed the infants at their breasts.

‘Those of us who die in this war will be remembered for ever as the mountain of bones which held up the sun. For the Sun! For the Father!’ cried Dulkancellin. His last words were
drowned out by the first volley of shots.

The warriors of the Fertile Lands were hit by another unknown weapon, which spat more fire and roared even louder than the ones the Sideresians had used in the port the day that Drimus had
escaped from Beleram. The fire fell on them like a rock from an exploding volcano. As they saw their companions torn open by this incomprehensible force, they had to choose. And they chose
anger.

But for every Sideresian who fell, many more on the side of the Deer were slain. Long before they could close on their enemy, the warriors died as the fire struck them. Many archers did not
succeed in loosing off a second arrow. Even though those they had launched hit their targets, and the Sideresians also began to lose men, their fire slowed the advance of the Fertile Lands. The
Deer knew that the distance between them and the Sideresians was their worst handicap, and that as soon as they managed to cross it and come face to face with the enemy, their bravery would
prevail.

But it was difficult to move forward over their own dead. A volcano explosion aimed at their west flank took with it many men who had been potters, weavers and beekeepers. Their blood now
stained the earth. Another explosion, then another. It was even harder trampling on their own dead when they were beekeepers, potters, and weavers. The Sideresians’ surprise weapons were
destroying the Deer.

In spite of everything, the army of the Fertile Lands kept going forward. The Husihuilke cavalry succeeded in reaching the Sideresians on their mounts: at last the Deer was where he wanted to
be. The distance between the two armies was reduced to the length of a sword or spear, or a blow from a club or the edge of a stone. Or to nothing, which meant another death. Fighting with a fury
that made them seem ten times more than they actually were, the warriors of the south scattered death among the Sideresians. So much so that for a moment the Sideresians were overcome by panic.
Dulkancellin killed with every blow of his axe, until he and Dusky One were covered with blood. Three of his warriors remained close by him, to protect his flanks and his back, because death was
seeking out the Husihuilke chief from all sides.

Elek of the Offspring was fighting in memory of his massacred people with the weapon he had won at the Red River. From his position, Thungür saw the Sideresian arrive who was to bring death
to his pumpkin-haired brother. But Thungür was unable to go to his aid: all he could do was shout his name. Elek was one of those who died that day, desperately defending themselves. Unable to
avoid it, Kume rode over his prone body.

The Deer’s best warriors had been decimated. Although the great explosions were no use to the Sideresians any more, it seemed as if they had landed the fatal blow. Dulkancellin was
bleeding from a wound just below the heart. He knew everything would soon be over for him, and clung to Dusky One’s mane for one last effort. He raised his face to the sun to say goodbye.

Cucub was also saying his farewells: he could see the Deer was losing the battle. The Zitzahay was still at the post Dulkancellin had allotted him, behind the rearguard with a few others. Hidden
in the undergrowth, it was their task to receive the wounded and help the warriors who came back in search of replacements for weapons or shields they had lost on the battlefield. When he was told
of his role, Cucub had felt split in two. Cucub the little village musician was relieved. Cucub the man in love with Kuy-Kuyen felt ashamed.

It was this second Cucub who was keen to join the fray. He was amazed to find himself thinking this way, but his mind was almost made up. There were several others who could do what he was
doing. Besides, no wounded were arriving now. At first, many warriors had come to them, but most had bound up their wounds and returned to the combat. The others had died. Molitzmós, who was
among the first to be wounded, was in neither position. The Lord of the Sun had a deep wound in his side, and looked like someone whose life was about to end.

Cucub stared at him, unable to rid himself of the unpleasant feeling that if he stayed where he was, he was behaving like the wounded lord. Finding this idea unbearable, he finally resolved to
join the battle. There was a pile of spears and arrows all round him. But, true to his nature, Cucub chose something different.

‘I’ll take your knife,’ he said to Molitzmós. ‘It’s a noble weapon that deserves its opportunity.’

The Lord of the Sun either could not or did not know how to reply.

‘That’s odd,’ said Cucub, raising the blade to his nostrils, ‘the blood on this smells like your own.’

Kuy-Kuyen’s beloved took the knife and ran out to join the fighting. This would be the first time he killed a man, or the last time he died. He could never clearly recall what thoughts
were going through his mind as he ran forward. What he did remember was that he suddenly came across the enemy for whom the stars had destined him. It was Illán-che-ñe. As soon as he
recognized the Pastor, Cucub felt an ancient, absolute duty that made him invincible. The Pastor stepped forward, brushing his weapon against his thigh and pressing Cucub back. When he was close,
he launched himself at the Zitzahay, but the little man was no longer there. Time and again, Illán-che-ñe’s dagger plunged into nothing but air. This trickery had its effect:
Illán-che-ñe was so caught up in it that he forgot his enemy. The Pastor only realized his mistake when a stone knife ripped open his stomach. Cucub pulled it out and stared at him.
The Zitzahay was neither trembling nor triumphant. He lifted his gaze to find his next adversary, but saw that something had changed in the battle.

The Sideresians were retreating, wheeling round as if to face a new threat. Cucub did not immediately realize why a shout of victory went up from the Deer, rose to the top of the hillsides, and
returned a hundred-fold. He could not see that from the west the Lords of the Sun had arrived, giving the Sideresians no time to turn their big, heavy weapons on them. The division of the Lords of
the Sun was greatly reduced: they had lost more than half their men in an ambush. Despite this, the winds of war were changing.

After the initial surprise, the Sideresians managed to regroup. Firing from the backs of their animals, they succeeded in restoring the balance. By now it was growing dark. Soon night and
exhaustion would end the battle for that day. Possibly both armies wished the same, because neither had the strength to go on. But in a last effort, the Sideresians let loose their black dogs
...

As if vomited straight from Misáianes’ mouth, the pack of hounds surged through the ranks. A hundred slavering jaws. Sniffing at the air, they launched themselves at the warriors of
the Fertile Lands. They hurtled along, looking for one man in particular. Their sense of smell led them to their most sought-after prey ... Dulkancellin saw them milling around him, snapping at
Dusky One’s feet. The animal resisted as best it could. Wounded and exhausted, the Husihuilke defended his mount as best he could. But in the end, they were both toppled. Before Dulkancellin
could get to his feet, they were upon him. He fought for his life, the hot, foul-smelling dogs swarming all over him.

This would have been his last day on earth, his moment of departure ... It would have been, had it not been for Thungür, Cucub and the other warriors who rushed to defend him. They managed
to rescue him from the dogs’ fangs, mauled but still alive. Dulkancellin had been given a few more steps to take in this world.

Night fell. Both armies needed rest: neither was able to continue, or to pursue their enemy. They were like two wounded animals withdrawing to their lairs to lick their wounds. When they
returned to the fight, one of them had to die.

That night, the healing hands of Magic could be felt in the medicines that repaired wounds and relieved pain that otherwise no man could have borne.

‘Go and get some rest, Thungür, I’ll look after him,’ said Cucub.