Something tickled the back of her mind.
What would happen if she was in a quantized state, and
bombarded an atom of Kinemet with a photon of her own? Would that, in turn,
begin the quantum change in an external object? And if so, could she somehow
target that energy?
Justine didn’t get the chance to test her theory. With her
sight,
she sensed the arrival of a Kinemetic presence outside the lab.
She stood up, clutching the sphere to her as Three Crescents
entered the room, holding what looked like a portable energy rod.
The moment he spotted Justine, he aimed the rod at her tank
and fired.
The glass shattered and thousands of liters of water slammed
into her.
Sierra
de las Minas :
Guatemala
:
Long Count: 9.19.19.17.18 :
I spent the
following days in
my hut, waiting for my new home to be finished. I felt terrible that I was not
able to help. Although I seemed to be recovering faster than expected, I still
had difficulty with simple tasks. I could walk around, but I couldn’t lift a
bucket of water without pain shooting through my chest.
Though I hated my new chosen role in the village, I owed it
to my people to become the best priest I could. As a warrior, I’d had some
lessons in reading glyphs. It was important to understand decrees or orders
from the king’s guard. Until a priest arrived from Copán to begin my lessons, I
decided to try to teach myself.
The scrolls the priest had left behind were far beyond my
understanding. At first, when I tried to read them, I quickly became
frustrated. Without a teacher to guide me, I might as well have tried to learn
the language of birds. Even still, I kept trying. After all, I had nothing else
to do, and lying down for hours on end was maddening.
After most of a day trying to figure out the meaning of a
certain glyph that was repeated many times in the scrolls, I decided to bring
my question to Ohtli Ti, the oldest of our elders.
It was bad form to approach an elder without first
requesting an audience, and even worse to ask an elder to lower themselves to
the role of teacher. Without another priest to guide me, however, I had no
other choice.
I picked Ohtli only because, when I was a child, he’d taken
supper with my father and our family several times.
My ribs ached from the effort, and I stood outside the
doorway of his house in silence, as much out of respect for his position as to
catch my breath.
I was certain he had noticed me right away, but he went about
his own tasks for several minutes before lifting one hand for me to enter his
house.
Bowing and keeping my head lowered, I said, “Forgive me for
being familiar, Elder Ti. I mean no disrespect.”
“The king has decreed you are to become the priest of our village,
Subo. It is only right that the elders listen to the counsel of our holy men.”
I felt a heat rise to my cheeks. “I would not dare to offer my
opinions to those who are more learned than I.”
“But you will.” He nodded to me. “You must become accustomed
to your new rank.”
“Thank you, Elder Ti. I will do my best.”
I looked up, and he smiled at me.
“I’m sure you will,” he said. “Now, do we have business
today?”
“Please excuse my ignorance, Elder. I am trying to learn to
read Balam Ix’s scrolls, but I am having difficulty.”
“Show me.”
I held the scroll out to him and pointed to the glyph that
kept appearing.
He glanced at it and then looked up at me in surprise. “Do
you not remember your first lesson? I thought warriors were taught the
difference between sound symbols and word symbols.”
As he said it, I recalled that there were often two ways to
write the same word: it could be written out with a symbol for each sound, or a
single symbol that represented the word. Most of Balam’s scroll was written
with sound symbols, but the one I was not familiar with was a word symbol I had
never seen before.
I flushed. “My apologies, Elder. I should have known. If you
could, please tell me what that symbol represents.”
“Flower,” he said. “Or the essence from that flower.”
“Thank you, Elder Ti,” I said, and bowed as I backed out of
his house.
Hoping none of the other villagers had witnessed my
embarrassment, I headed back to my hut and worked my way through the first
scroll. By the time the sun set, I had a basic understanding of the scroll’s
meaning: it was a recipe for a paste that would soothe light burns.
I was excited that I had made so much progress. Over the
next two days, I went through as many of Balam’s writings as I could. By the
time my new home was completed, I was able to figure out the meaning behind
each of the scrolls I had inherited.
I didn’t let the other villagers know how far I had come. If
I told them that I had learned in three days what it would take most others
three months to understand, they would regard me with suspicion, and might
think I had been replaced by a demon.
One other thing happened that was more difficult to hide. My
ribs were healing faster than they should. I knew, from others who had broken
bones, that it could be as many as two
winals
—forty-days—to recover. At
the rate I was healing, I would be fully recovered in a few more days.
I became nervous that the other villagers would realize that
I was different. Though I hated to deceive them, I pretended to be worse than I
actually was. If someone questioned me about how I was healing so fast, I would
tell them that perhaps I hadn’t been as injured as we had first thought.
My only explanation was that when Ekahua had put his hand on
me and taught me the Song of the Stars, he had somehow changed me. Whether it
was a gift or curse, I couldn’t say. I knew that my being different from the
others would only draw their fear. At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel
grateful for my ability to learn as fast as I had been, and to heal quickly.
On the fourth morning after we had buried Balam, I woke up
and decided to confess everything to my father. He’d heard the story about
Ekahua already, and I hoped he would understand that I had not been changed
into a demon; that my new abilities were a gift from the sky traveler.
Before I could reveal myself to him, however, a small squad
of warriors from Copán arrived. To my disappointment and confusion, they were
not accompanied by a priest.
Several villagers came out to greet the newcomers. Our
smiles of welcome turned to frowns of concern when we realized it was a war
party.
The leader of the squad—a man I had not met before—quickly
identified my father, and spoke directly to him. His words were spoken loud
enough for the rest of us to hear.
“Tohil Ak, I hope I find you well.”
My father greeted him with a hand gesture. “Chaan Xiu, I am
well. May we offer you shelter and food?”
“No,” Chaan said. “I bring orders from Copán. King Ukit Took
has been in discussion with the holy order and the council of elders. They have
all agreed that the earthquake four days ago was a sign from the gods. The time
for us to attack Quiriguá is now. It has been long overdue, do you not agree,
Tohil?”
“I do.” My father glanced around the villagers and spotted
me. He pointed to me. “My son has recently come back from his warrior’s trial,
where he defeated three Q’eqchi’ fighters. Our enemies have grown weak and lazy.”
Chaan nodded to me. “I have heard of this conquest by young
Subo, who is blessed of the gods.” Turning back to my father, the war leader said,
“We are calling all able men to gather in the ceremony field south of Copán
tomorrow morning. We will march to Quiriguá and attack at dawn two days from
now. Our victory will be sung to our great-grandchildren’s grandchildren.”
With that, my father and Chaan clasped hands, and the war
leader ordered his men on to the next village to spread the call to arms.
Immediately, my father gathered the eight hunter-warriors in
our village and gave them orders to prepare weapons and supplies, and to visit
each of the farms in the area to call all men of fighting age to the village.
Although they were not dedicated warriors, the farmers had all been trained in
basic combat in case of invasion from the Q’eqchi’.
Once his men were set to the task, my father approached me.
My expression of hope turned to disappointment when he put his hand on my
shoulder and said, “I am saddened that you must remain here in the village. I
promise you I will bring home many Q’eqchi’ slaves for sacrifice. It will be our
honor for you to perform the rituals.”
My father must have mistaken the look on my face for one of uncertainty,
because he squeezed my arm. “I have seen you with Balam’s scrolls. You are
already able to read them. One of them will describe the ritual of sacrifice,
and you will have time before we return to learn what to do. The only thing
that would make me more proud than to have you join us in victory is to have
you bless our victory with the holy rites.”
“I will do my best,” I said to my father, trying to hide my
personal disappointment as he left me behind and went off to prepare for war.
∞
I woke up the next morning well before the sun rose, and
watched from my hut as all the men of the village gathered in the common area,
waiting for my father’s order to begin their march to Copán. Their wives and
children hovered outside the common area with the few older men who were no
longer capable of fighting.
Before the troop left the village, my father spotted me and
waved me over. I approached him, and when I stood next to him, he spoke to the
crowd of fighters.
“Good warriors,” he said, “before we march to battle, I ask
that we all pray for a swift and glorious victory. My son, Subo Ak, will lead
us in that prayer.”
For a moment, I froze under the sudden attention from more
than a hundred people.
Somehow, my mind called up the prayer Balam Ix had recited to
me before I began my warrior’s trial. Using that as a starting point, I spoke.
“Nacon, god of war, give our warriors a great revelation of
the spiritual and the natural realms. Let them see the strategies of our
enemies, give them the might to drive our enemies from their camp, and grant
them the strength to withstand any attack.
“Go with all speed, and return with honor.”
The warriors raised their arms and cheered. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw my father smile and nod to me, and his approval filled
my heart.
Many of the warriors reached out to touch me for additional blessings
as they marched out of the village.
∞
I spent the rest of that day elevated in spirit. I’d
performed a service to the village, and offered courage and blessing to the warriors.
Perhaps becoming the village priest wasn’t the worst thing that could have ever
happened to me.
My mother also benefited. With her husband being the village’s
war chief, and her son soon to be the village’s holy leader, her status was greatly
raised. Only the elders’ wives received more respect.
Several of the women in the village brought me food. One of
the weavers, Tepin Cen, offered to make me a new set of priest’s clothes. Balam’s
were ill fitting.
I did not have the skill to make my own costume, and so I
said, “Yes, please.”
Since I was still not fully healed, and she did not want me
to stand while she took measurements, she asked me for some of my other clothes
to use for comparison.
I gave her the pack I had used on my warrior’s trial, and she
picked it up and left my home, promising that she would have something for me
to try on the next day.
Having nothing more to do, I spent the rest of the afternoon
trying to read Balam’s scrolls, proud that I could understand most of what he
wrote.
It was less than an hour later when I heard a scream from
the other side of the village. My ribs were still tender, and I could not run,
but I walked as fast as I could to where a group of people had gathered around
Tepin’s house. The women were all speaking at once, pointing and asking each
other what had happened.
When I arrived, they parted for me. Though I had no skill in
healing, I was still their priest. A few of the women looked at me expectantly.
In front of the weaver’s house, Tepin was lying on the ground.
The skin on her hands and face was blistering and turning black, as if she were
being burned by fire. She looked up at me, and made a horrible sound, pleading
for help.
Beside her was my pack. Several of the items in it were
strewn about on the ground, as if the pack had been upturned.
Neither her body nor my pack was what drew my attention. She
had taken the items out of my pack. Near my belt, there was a tiny ball of
glowing light on the ground in front of Tepin. Slowly, it grew brighter and
brighter.
I remembered the grain of what I had thought was sand, which
I had taken from Ekahua’s sky boat, and I recalled his warning not to let the
sun shine on the stone block, which held those grains.
One of the younger girls, Mizquixaual, who was standing very
close to Tepin, cried out and fell over. Her skin began to blister and bubble.
I grabbed her and pulled her away from the growing star grain, but the effort
of it sent a sharp pain through my chest, and I suddenly felt like throwing up.
Elder Nentil Mo’Nab, who arrived moments after I had,
pointed at the glowing ball and said, “It is a tear from Kinich Ahau, the sun
god! It is a weapon sent by the Q’eqchi’.”
I saw my mother push her way through the gathering crowd.
She had a stick in her hand. Before I could yell at her to stop, she swung it
at the glowing grain. I was certain her only intention was to send the burning
object as far away as possible. I watched with growing dread as the stick
connected with the star grain, sending it arcing through the air straight for
the fire pit in the common area.
“Run!” I yelled to everyone, and despite the sharp pain in
my chest, I grabbed Mizquixaual by her arms and dragged her behind the weaver’s
house.
The burst of light that washed over the village was brighter
than the sun at noon, and hotter than the biggest fire we’d ever built in the
common area. The power of it knocked me off my feet, and the breath rushed out
of me when I hit the ground.
It seemed like hours before I could focus and look around
the village. Most everyone was still lying on the ground. Some were curled up,
either moaning in pain, or crying in fear. Others, closer to the common area,
were not moving at all, and I feared they might be dead. Everyone I saw had
burns on their skin.