The Days of the Deer (31 page)

They were talking about a low extension of land at the estuary of the Red River With Feet Apart. One channel of the Red River ran through the south side of the valley; the other flowed to the
north. The Deer already knew the place where the battle would be fought. He knew that on this occasion he would have more warriors than the enemy. Now he had to make sure that the
Sideresians’ advantages – their weapons and their animals – were reduced, and if possible turned against them.

That night the warriors of the Fertile Lands began their march. They headed towards the coast, looking for the mouth of the Red River, to the east of the site of their first battle against the
Sideresians. The Deer had the virtue of being able to advance without a sound. Nobody apart from the creatures of the jungle could hear him.

The front line of the army was reserved for the Husihuilkes, something less than half of those who had come to the Remote Realm. Most of the remainder were sent with the troops heading
north-west. The rest, together with a large number of Zitzahay, were guarding the House of the Stars. The warriors were armed with bows and arrows. With clubs and axes.

Next to them, in similar strength, were the spearmen. These were the most valiant of the Zitzahay, and were led by Molitzmós, second in command to Dulkancellin.

Behind them, and protecting the flanks, were the rest of the Zitzahay army. In the rearguard came the people from the villages. Some of them were too young, others too old for the main army.
Most of them were coming to war after a gentle life producing their goods and taking them to market, smoking their leaves, and dancing for their dead and the newborn. Yet afterwards it was said and
sung that they fought with the bravery of true warriors, and so went down in history. Cucub was one of them, his job more that of helping out where he could than of fighting.

The Deer had chosen to split its forces into two prongs, so that they could cover more of the land and discover and disrupt any attempt by the Sideresians to attack Beleram. Then on a day and at
a place already decided, their two divisions would unite again.

The north-eastern division, commanded by Dulkancellin, came to a halt at the edge of the jungle. From there, hidden among the roots, high in the branches of the trees, or concealed behind
trunks, they could keep watch on the Red River without anyone suspecting their presence.

The wheel of the day had turned. The storm which had been gathering on the horizon at sunset risked hiding the moon. The heavy clouds seemed to be pulled in opposite directions. One which wanted
to offer the Deer the good fortune of light. The other which wanted to deny it. This struggle lasted for some time. The clouds paled when they drifted away, but swept back, black and gold-edged, to
encircle the moon. Finally, deep into the night, the friendly side won its battle in the sky, and the storm abated.

On the far bank, the bonfires the Sideresians had lit showed the silhouettes of their guards, and their animals’ uneasy movements. Surprise was the Deer’s best chance. To preserve
it, all the warriors breathed softly, and Dulkancellin told Cucub to keep the few animals they had with them as quiet as possible.

At first light, the Sideresians began to move out as the Deer had expected. They were going to cross the river: first the mounted men, behind them the foot soldiers. The warriors from the
Fertile Lands also took up their final positions. The jungle breeze came to their aid, mixing light and shade so much that the enemy could not see any of their movements. Protected by all the arms
of Mother Neén, the Deer waited. The Sideresian riders had almost finished wading the river. The men on foot had more difficulty because the water pushed against their thighs, and because
they had to keep their weapons dry. The first riders were already reaching dry land. But the Deer was still waiting for most of the enemy to be in the water.

When that moment came, Dulkancellin straightened up on Dusky One. He drew back his bow and aimed at an enemy soldier, the one he had chosen for his first arrow. Dulkancellin had been in this
position many times before in the Border Hills. Like all warriors, he knew that the man chosen to be the first victim was without a face, nothing more than a blur, because the person firing the
arrow had no wish to remember him. But now Dulkancellin did want to recall the face of the man who, if he were not killed, could crush the heart of Wilkilén the very next day.

Dusky One felt his rider’s fury, and added its roar to the Husihuilke chief’s cry announcing the start of the battle. The cry was taken up by all the warriors as the first volley of
arrows sped from the jungle. To the Sideresians it seemed as though the trees themselves were shooting at them. With poisoned or faming tips, the southern warriors’ arrows found their mark.
So many men were killed, and their mounts were thrown into such panic, that the remaining cavalry tried desperately to pull back, colliding with the oncoming foot soldiers.

Taking advantage of the confusion and chaos, the spearmen rushed out of their positions in the jungle. Some threw their lances, but most wielded them directly against their foe. The Sideresians
also had to face many clubs and axes, all the pain the Deer could inflict. Although many of them tried to use their weapons against the warriors from the Fertile Lands, the battle soon turned into
a rout.

The outcome was to be seen by the bodies in the river. The current piled up corpses on its journey to the sea. Beasts, men and hacked-off limbs floated out to the Yentru. The Red River should
have been named after this day, and not before.

The good news of the victory spread quickly through the jungle. When she heard, Kuy-Kuyen buried her little face in her hands and murmured her own words of thanks. Zabralkán called the
people of Beleram to the great courtyard of the House of the Stars; Kupuka’s explosion of joy echoed round the jaguar’s cave where he was carrying out his own tasks. All over the Remote
Realm, everyone celebrated the victory. On the battlefield, the warriors buried their dead, and recovered the animals and weapons they had won. Then they turned their faces to the sun and sang. As
long as the sun was in the sky, they sang and sang. They became hoarse, and yet none of them let up in their singing.

The men in the other division heading north-west heard the news while they were advancing without encountering any Sideresians. At first, they shouted and acclaimed the good news, but soon each
of them fell silent. They felt the shame of the warrior who has not fought in battle: as if they were to blame for the direction their enemy had taken. That night, as they ate roasted wild boar,
they chewed on their frustration.

‘Eat a little,’ said Thungür, offering Kume a piece of the meat. He took it reluctantly, inspecting it slowly in front of his face.

‘We will soon have to renew our march,’ said Thungür, ‘and who knows when we will be able to stop and eat again.’

Kume began to nibble at the sweet-tasting meat. His elder brother had never mentioned the Kukul feather. He never asked how he had let things get that far, or shown any interest in finding out
how he had done it. Kume was grateful for his lack of insistence, and so perhaps in return never once rebelled against the authority his father had delegated to Thungür. This did not mean that
Kume had changed his sullen manner. On the contrary, he buried himself ever deeper in it, and never opened himself to anyone.

‘I don’t think we have celebrated our brothers’ victory properly,’ Thungür went on. ‘But our disappointment should help us to fight even more bravely when it
is our turn to do so.’

Just like his mother, Thungür had the knack of finding flowers in the midst of a thorn bush.

‘Do you know who I am thinking of?’ he went on. ‘Of Cucub. I’m trying to imagine him in battle.’

Kume had finished eating. He drove his knife into the ground and licked off some grease that had stuck to his forearm.

‘Terrifed. Hiding between someone’s legs,’ he replied. ‘I can assure you, that’s what he was like.’

Thungür had the strength and the harmonious features of his race. As well as these, Kume had his mother Shampalwe’s beauty.

‘Do you know exactly what became of Kupuka?’ he asked.

The Husihuilkes were accustomed to thinking in a straightforward manner. Kume’s thoughts were always more devious.

‘How can anyone know exactly what the Wizard’s movements are?’ said Thungür with a smile. ‘He must be somewhere in this jungle, conspiring with his
friends.’

Kume pulled the knife out of the ground and handed it back to his brother. Then he walked away.

The Deer could not afford to spend long celebrating the victory, because he had to continue on northwards as quickly as possible. The advance was inexorable, but more cautious with each passing
day. A strong network of communications protected his army and kept it unified. The two divisions had to stay in contact as often as they could, but there was much more to do as well. They had to
keep one eye on what was going on behind them, to know what was happening in Beleram and to send word to the coast of the Yentru to hear the news from the fish-women. Someone had to try to reach
Kupuka. And above all, they had to get beyond the Sideresian lines to reach the Lords of the Sun. This was the path taken by the silent jaguars, slipping back and forth with a message of feathers
round their necks that only their allies could understand.

The two divisions reached the appointed meeting place with half a day’s difference. From where they met, the Border Hills were clearly visible. The hills were a landmark between the Remote
Realm and the land of the Lords of the Sun. They were gentle and easy to climb. Anyone who had done so remembered them as a pleasant spot. And so they were – or had been. Because as dusk fell
that night, the warriors looked at the hillsides rising to the sky like someone at the mouth of a lair, wary of the animal inside lashing out.

The plan was for them to stay there until they could establish the next and final contact with the Lords of the Sun. The last jaguar carrying its message of feathers. After that, the two armies
would fight alongside each other on the battlefield, when Hoh-Quiú’s men would surprise the Sideresians by attacking on another front.

Hoh-Quiú, one of the princes of the ruling House in the land of the Lords of the Sun, commanded a large army. Although the Lords of the Sun had received only fragmentary and confused
information, they had understood they needed to throw as much of their power as possible into this war, and had done so.

‘Molitzmós, tell us about Hoh-Quiú,’ Dulkancellin said. ‘He is your prince, so you must know a lot about him. This will help us understand each other on the
battlefield.’

‘As you say, he is a prince. Yet I have never seen him.’ Molitzmós remembered perfectly well seeing Hoh-Quiú’s face daubed with the blood from the heart of one of
his own brothers, executed because he had not shown sufficient reverence towards the then tiny prince. ‘All I can say is that he must be very young still, and because of this I am amazed he
is commanding the army.’

‘That must mean he is very valiant,’ said Dulkancellin.

Molitzmós of the Sun did not want to give any answer, for fear that his voice would betray his hatred.

‘Let’s hope the jaguar does not take too long,’ was all he murmured.

His wish was fulfilled. That night, escorted by the two guards who had seen him arrive, the jaguar entered the tent where a group of warriors were talking to Dulkancellin. Elek and
Molitzmós were among them. Thungür and even Cucub were there too, the little Zitzahay staying close to his Husihuilke friends and stoically putting up with the Lord of the Sun’s
patent hostility. The jaguar’s arrival had set the camp agog. The men gathered outside the tent, anxious to know what the animal’s message contained. Shortly afterwards, the warriors
inside appeared. Dulkancellin raised the feathered collar aloft so that they all could see it.

‘Our brother jaguar has brought us the news we were waiting for,’ he said. ‘And it is as good as the light of the sun.’

The men responded with a shout of triumph. The groups had not been together for long, but despite this, the differences that at first had been hard to overcome had eased to such an extent that
they all seemed part of one family. The Offspring with flame-coloured hair, the dark-skinned Zitzahay who looked so small next to the Husihuilkes, the warriors and the artisans. Something about
their situation brought them all together.

‘The army of the Lords of the Sun is close by,’ said Dulkancellin. ‘It should not take more than a day and a night for them to meet up with us. And that will be before the
Sideresians arrive.’

Although Dulkancellin was talking to all his men, he could not take his eyes off those of Kume. His son returned his gaze, with no flicker of acknowledgement.

‘It is true that the Sideresians are drawing near, and are doing so rapidly. Even so, we have time enough. We must make sure that tonight we rest. Eat and sing, because soon we will have
to face a war which, whatever its outcome, will divide Time.’

Once the warriors had dispersed, Dulkancellin called Cucub over and asked him to feed the jaguar.

‘Let him get some rest too. He will be heading off again at first light to take the reply that Hoh-Quiú is expecting.’

Together, Dulkancellin and Molitzmós strung the feathers onto the collar, their length and colours conveying precise information for the Lords of the Sun about where and when the battle
was to be fought.

The new day dawned. The jaguar, which had seemed to wish to sleep for ever, suddenly leapt to its feet when the Husihuilke warrior approached. As always, he was on his own. And as always, he
knelt in front of him and put his arms round the animal’s neck to fit the code of feathers. The jaguar knew the man, and waited calmly for him to secure the collar.

‘You can go now, brother,’ said Dulkancellin as he tied the final knot. ‘Run as fast as you can to your destination. This is our only hope that you and we will still have an
earth we can inhabit together.’