1520: They Arrived

Our canoe sliced steadily through the warm, ocean waters; Eztli and I had long ago settled our paddle strokes in sync. Our muscles initially burned from the strain, but we were Mayan warriors built for this. Hugging the coast, we welcomed the jungle grackles with their harsh, loud chaa, the doves' coo, and the chachalaca's raucous calls as they accompanied us toward our river and home village. I wiped my black hair back from my face with a shoulder rise. The ocean breeze was a welcome respite from the days of humidity and heat we endured as we navigated through the thick jungle waters.

Two moons have passed! Our salt trade with a distant Mayan village has rewarded us with sugar, beans, cacao, flint, jade, and a wild boar. When the warriors see us come around the entrance to our river, they will alert our village, welcoming fires will light up the center, and the People will hold a feast, eager to see the fruits of our trade.

I felt the sun on my back as I smiled. For such a small trip, we were successful. I remembered the faraway village and their warning as the screaming pelicans and herons chased us. They talked of strange visitors arriving on floating mountains far out on the sea. Their speech was as confusing as the motmot, constantly chirping different sounds. Maybe the jaguar had transformed. Ah, Tricksters, all of them; they relished terrifying the People in many forms.

My skin started prickling with goosebumps as we approached our river inlet and village entrance. My eyes darted along the shore and the dark jungle beyond; a feeling of foreboding came over me that was, to my core, unshakable. A sixth sense sent shivers down my spine as I strained to see ahead.

“Eztli, something is wrong,” I whispered as I slowed my paddle. Eztli followed, slowing his pace and crouching down in the canoe. I scanned the treetops as we drifted slowly towards the village.

He turned to face me, his eyes squinting in fear. “There are no sounds, Ixaza,” he gravely whispered. My eyebrows pinched together as my breath became shallow. No spider monkeys greeted us; no parrot chattering broke the jungle's hush.

We continued to glide in silence. My hand gripped a spear while the other held the paddle firm to steer us to a landing near the village. Behind a Ceiba tree, we quietly tied the canoe, communicating only with hand gestures. Exiting our canoe on soft feet, we crept toward our home through the dense jungle path.

Eztli reached back and touched my arm. “Ixaza, stop.” His voice was low and laden with emotion as he gestured with two fingers towards the first hut. A woman lay on the ground, her body discolored and covered in black blisters and scabs. “She’s not breathing.”

I glanced around the clearing; more bodies became apparent. They were all marked, and their bodies swollen. We looked at each other, eyes wide and unable to blink. My heart pounded through my throat, and my skin was cold with fear. I glanced at Eztli’s spear and nodded. We both knew some monster had invaded our village. He had attacked them all.

“Follow me and look for any survivors, but be on guard, the monster could be nearby.” Eztli nodded in understanding. We circled stealthily between huts, listening and searching the entire village. We noticed arrows and spears littered around the periphery, a sad testament to an ineffective attempt to vanquish the evil that had laid waste to our village.

I turned back to Eztli and shook my head as I slumped my shoulders. “It’s all gone. The People were all touched, and now they are all dead.” I knelt in the dirt and poked one body with a stick, unable to rouse it. My stomach heaved as a loud, mourning sob escaped my lungs. I looked towards Eztli and wailed, “Burn it all down! Do not let the monster return to feast on our loved ones, his prey.”

The air swirling from the ocean hung heavy with the smell of death. Eztli, his eyes red, nodded and gathered large piles of sticks and branches in his arms, setting them in the middle of the village. I continued to thrash my back with a switch in mourning for our People. The pain on my skin didn’t approach the pain in my soul.

“Ixaza, it’s time. Get your fire bow.” Ezlti’s voice was raw from shock and pain; it startled me out of my beating.

I trudged back to the canoe, each step heavy with grief. As I weaved back with the bow, I heard a soft mew from a nearby bush. I paused and listened closely. That was an animal sound I had never heard before. Was it the monster? I crawled steadily, but quietly, toward the bush. I used my bow to gently part the leaves to observe what was hiding in the center. My breath hitched, and my eyes grew wide.

“Ezlti! Come quick!” I called as I continued to stare at the being. I knew what this was.

“What is it, Ixaza?” He held his spear high in case he needed to use it immediately.

I held my hands up towards Ezlti, whispering, “No, it’s a baby.” He dropped his weapon and stared at the child. Nestled in a bed of thick leaves, her mouth lined with banana mash, she appeared to be about one year old. She was thin, her skin soiled but unblemished, and her black hair lay slick and wet on her head. Ezlti glanced at me, his eyes wide in shock. She was alert and breathing. An unmoving Spider Monkey above her blinked at us silently, holding a banana close to its body.

“Watch her, Ezlti,” I said softly, holding my hand on his back. “I’ll search for any others hidden.” I swiftly surveyed the outer jungle area of the village, looking for any disturbance in the vegetation or subtle sounds coming from the jungle brush. Sadly, all I saw was evidence of an encounter with evil: broken pots, torn huts, and weapons scattered everywhere. Lying in a heap near the far huts were strange blankets, unlike the cotton ones woven by the Mayan. They smelled of sweat and death.

My senses were on alert as I retreated to Ezlti and the child. She was sipping a drink of water given to her by Ezlti. Her black, wide eyes darted from him to me. I touched her face hesitantly as she continued to drink and stare into my eyes. What had the child witnessed? What mother gave her up to the jungle to save her life?

I spoke in a pained, low voice, knowing what to do. “I’m burning down the village now, Ezlti. Take her to the canoe. I’ll meet you there.” He nodded and scooped her up in his strong arms, cautiously moving along the narrow trail, back into the jungle.

Later, I ran to the canoe, surprising Ezlti as I jumped in and immediately started paddling. The child lay in the center of our boat, covered by leaves and warmed by the boar's skin at her feet. She had closed her eyes, sleep overtaking her. Her dark hair glistened in the moonlight.

I reached my hands towards the moon, chanting a mourning song. I will name the child Ixik Kuyum, Lady of Birth. She will be the mother of many, and her strength will be passed on for generations.

We paddled hard along the ocean edge and set off for another river and a further village; the flames of our home lit the jungle as the stars came out to reassure us that the world hadn’t ended. The chachalaca chased us through the tree cover, screaming our story of destruction to all the animals and trees left behind. His call will haunt me. Sadness saturated me as we left the village behind, leaving a mark on my heart that would never heal.

I watched Ixik Kuyum sleep, so much tragedy for a little one, but she lived. I will tell her tale of survival and our village attack. It will be told for generations; the time monsters came and destroyed our lives.