Crystal Rain (11 page)
Authors: Tobias S. Buckell
A man born under the sign of Ocelotl, even if of nobility, could only struggle toward a better life through fasting, sleep deprivation, and the application of his intelligence.
So it was said.
When Oaxyctl’s parents presented him as a newborn to the Calmecac chiefs at a sumptuous banquet in the heart of Tenochtitlanome, the chiefs asked his parents for his sign. Upon hearing it they gravely shook their heads.
“Children born under this sign grow to become thieves,” they said. “If this child were female, we might offer you the honor of waiting until she grew hair to her waist, then place her head between two rocks and offer her to Tlaloc for a better rainy season.”
Oaxyctl would not be a priest, or a judge, or a leader of warriors.
He attended the Telpochcalli instead, with dirty kids and commoners. They sang history and trained to become simple warriors. The instructors pricked his skin with thorns when he forgot his lessons.
When he grew old enough to fight, Oaxyctl left for a small village far away in Imixcoatlpetl’s shadow, the Cloud Serpent’s Mountains, known to most simply as the Great Mountains. Back then
nopuluca
lived on the Aztlan side of the Great Mountains. Oaxyctl captured many to gain respect, feathers in his hair, and eventually a wife.
nopuluca
lived on the Aztlan side of the Great Mountains. Oaxyctl captured many to gain respect, feathers in his hair, and eventually a wife.
The pipiltin of Aztlan then gave Oaxyctl the chance to become
quimichtin
and spy on the lands on the other side of Imixcoatlpetl. Since then his life had become a complicated mess of double spying, fear, blood, and long journeys over the Great Mountains. He’d turned in many spies he had once called friends. And then killed many mongoose-men who thought him a friend. And he’d repeated the cycle again in Brungstun to hunt for John deBrun.
quimichtin
and spy on the lands on the other side of Imixcoatlpetl. Since then his life had become a complicated mess of double spying, fear, blood, and long journeys over the Great Mountains. He’d turned in many spies he had once called friends. And then killed many mongoose-men who thought him a friend. And he’d repeated the cycle again in Brungstun to hunt for John deBrun.
Oaxyctl did not believe in curses, or unlucky life signs, but about now he was beginning to change his mind.
Oaxyctl had once never believed in gods either. He’d assumed they were the results of men who dreamt too much. A suspicious man, Oaxyctl sneered at all mystical things. The priests in Aztlan smelled of death, were painted black, and had shaggy, snaggled hair soaked with the blood of the sacrificed. Their shredded earlobes and bitten lips caused Oaxyctl to avoid them. And what they did to their genitals with knotted ropes …
Oaxyctl had once never believed in gods either. He’d assumed they were the results of men who dreamt too much. A suspicious man, Oaxyctl sneered at all mystical things. The priests in Aztlan smelled of death, were painted black, and had shaggy, snaggled hair soaked with the blood of the sacrificed. Their shredded earlobes and bitten lips caused Oaxyctl to avoid them. And what they did to their genitals with knotted ropes …
He’d thought them mad until the day the priests brought the chairs to his town. And inside them sat the ancient, pale, squinting gods.
So unhuman. So different. Oaxyctl shivered. If he’d been wrong about the gods, then maybe he was wrong about his life.
Maybe he needed to fast more, sleep less.
But the practical warrior in him told him that right now, those actions would lead to death. Better to stick with the application of his intelligence. And what did his intelligence tell him?
Something had worried Oaxyctl since he’d met the Teotl: the god’s explanation that there were those who wanted John dead, no matter what.
Were there really other gods who might kill him for doing what he was doing as it was against
their
wishes? Did the gods argue often? He’d never heard such a thing. And how did he make sense of such a thing, him, Oaxyctl, just a mere human?
their
wishes? Did the gods argue often? He’d never heard such a thing. And how did he make sense of such a thing, him, Oaxyctl, just a mere human?
Oaxyctl wished that he’d had more time. Then he could have taken John and tortured him for the
Ma Wi Jung
secrets at leisure.
Ma Wi Jung
secrets at leisure.
Gods. He’d barely rescued the man in time from the Huitzpochli offering, and that involved shadowing some very good Jaguar warriors and waiting for exactly the right moment. He’d prayed that it would work, offering blood from his cheeks even, that John could escape from the eagle stone as Oaxyctl struck the warriors down. He’d come so close to failing, he still shook slightly when he thought about it.
But he’d done it. Found the right man from talking to
people in Brungstun, gotten to the right location, and done his god’s bidding.
people in Brungstun, gotten to the right location, and done his god’s bidding.
Oaxyctl’s own countrymen still chased them. And Oaxyctl needed time to make the right potions and tools to force the truth out of deBrun. With the invasion happening, he knew time was something he didn’t have.
Could he risk stopping, letting the warriors get to them, and claim he was one of them? Too risky. Suppose they killed deBrun in the process? The god said they had no orders to save deBrun, but rather to kill him.
The god
would not
like that to happen. Oaxyctl was sure he’d suffer if it did. He felt sick remembering how close deBrun had come to death.
would not
like that to happen. Oaxyctl was sure he’d suffer if it did. He felt sick remembering how close deBrun had come to death.
Once deBrun released his secrets, Oaxyctl could return to Aztlan and forget this foreign wilderness in the gods’ good graces. He wouldn’t have to worry about whom he really spied for anymore. He could go back to a normal life. He missed having a wife.
He couldn’t remember much about her; he had left many years ago to become a spy. By now she must have given him up for dead and have a new husband. Yet he still fantasized about that life. Two of them alone in a small home, cuddling by a stove fire and the small statue of a local pulque god on the wall, while a mountain fog rolled by at night.
He liked how soft women were, bringing flowers and scents into the environment. He hated mud, sticky sweat, blood, and long, long treks for his own life. He missed the way things had been, for a small time in his life when he lived on the foothills of the other side of the Wicked Highs.
John deBrun had been muttering about Joginstead and a bath under his breath, while every once in a while Oaxyctl caught the long-off look of mourning in the man’s eyes.
They spent part of the early morning asleep under a tree, covered in twigs and leaves. Oaxyctl gave John jerky and dried fruit, and some water from his canteen. Both slept uneasily; John kept crying out and waking up sweating.
At noon they stretched and kept walking. But well before Joginstead, Oaxyctl veered off to the east even farther.
They walked a good many miles before they came to the clearing Oaxyctl aimed for.
They walked a good many miles before they came to the clearing Oaxyctl aimed for.
If John deBrun died before giving up information about the
Ma Wi Jung
, then Oaxyctl would die a horrible death. He knew this with certainty. And if any Azteca caught them, Oaxyctl could still not figure out how to guarantee that John would remain alive.
Ma Wi Jung
, then Oaxyctl would die a horrible death. He knew this with certainty. And if any Azteca caught them, Oaxyctl could still not figure out how to guarantee that John would remain alive.
So he had chosen a different path.
Gaining himself more time.
Oaxyctl tramped through the clearing, knelt in the middle, and cleared off leaves and dirt to reveal trapdoors set into the ground. “We are here,” Oaxyctl declared.
“But this isn’t Joginstead,” John said.
“I never said we were going to Joginstead. It is probably also occupied.” Oaxyctl pulled the oak doors up with a grunt, then let them drop open on either side. He led John down the stone stairs of a mongoose-man depot known only to a few courier mongoose-men. Two of them lay dead back in Brungstun.
Oaxyctl felt for the controls set against the wall’s corner, groping along in the dark. When he triggered the switches, air hissed and spit. A large hole opened above them; flush hangar doors slid aside despite the heavy weight of earth and vines carefully arranged over them. Dirt spilled down over the edges.
In the new light they could both make out a shapeless gray mass of an airship’s unfilled bag. It hung in midair from ropes and nets fastened to the large cavern’s underside. The Nanagadan military,
nopuluca
though they were, had some fascinating tools they’d taught Oaxyctl how to use when he’d trained with the mongoose-men once.
nopuluca
though they were, had some fascinating tools they’d taught Oaxyctl how to use when he’d trained with the mongoose-men once.
“We’ll take this emergency mongoose-courier airship to Capitol City,” Oaxyctl said. “First we need to fill it, though.”
John deBrun nodded. Oaxyctl saw trust grow in the man’s eyes.
Oaxyctl smiled.
With the help of spies in Capitol City, Oaxyctl could drug and take John somewhere to interrogate him. He could take the careful days he needed to slowly pull the information
out of John while the Azteca warriors slowly made their way up the coast toward the peninsula.
out of John while the Azteca warriors slowly made their way up the coast toward the peninsula.
Better dangers he knew in Capitol City than Azteca warriors here.
Oaxyctl wondered what it meant that he felt more comfortable among the Nanagadans than his own warriors.
Nothing, he told himself fiercely.
With a definite plan before him, though, for the first time in three days Oaxyctl relaxed somewhat.
He would accomplish his tasks. The gods would respect him yet.
Oaxyctl was not cursed.
John watched as Oaxyctl checked the hoses leading to the gasbag, then followed them back to the cavern walls. Oaxyctl then spun the valves open. The hoses straightened and filled out, and after a slow hour the airship’s bags started to visibly fill. The floppy lengths of fabric expanded and filled the cavern.
In the dusky light John cocked his head to look at the airship. Amazing. The cavern itself, a natural sinkhole, must have had its top shaped with dynamite, and the courier airship roped into its hidden hangar beneath the jungle clearing. Several netlike lengths of rope hung on the airship’s dull-colored gasbag, just like rigging on a ship. Presumably to allow maintenance of the whole structure.
Oaxyctl ran around shutting valves. He yanked on small ropes leading up the sides of the hoses. They popped off with puffs and dropped away from the airship.
“Get on,” Oaxyctl ordered.
“How?” John asked. The ground dropped away to darkness just a few feet in front of the steps leading in. John kicked a small pebble with his muddy boots. It jumped forward and disappeared, occasionally hitting a wall and
bouncing. Finally a distant plop floated up and weakly reverberated around the cavern.
bouncing. Finally a distant plop floated up and weakly reverberated around the cavern.
Oaxyctl pointed. A rope ladder ran from the side of one of the walls to the airship’s undercarriage. “You first,” he said as he looped his bundle of spears over his back.
John put a hand to the cavern wall. The rock chilled his fingers as he slowly walked along the edge toward the rope.
“Are you sure this is secure?” John looked out to the end of the rope ladder attached to the airship. The ledge beneath his feet slimmed down to mere inches.
The cavern echoed their voices back and forth between its walls.
“You scared?” Oaxyctl asked.
“No.” John looked at the rope ladder. It rose upward at a slight angle and swayed slightly as a gust from above played with the airship. “I’ve been on rigging like this. But it was my rigging.”
He crouched and grabbed a rung. Why this angle? Climbing straight up presented no problem, but here the ladder lay almost horizontal. John studied it for a second, well aware of the different ways the hook on his left hand would get in the way.
To lope across the unsteady ladder he kept his hook folded into his chest, straining across with just one arm and his legs. He only missed a rung with a foot once and instinctively hooked a rung with his left arm to prevent falling. He reached the undercarriage fairly quickly, grabbed the bamboo side rails, and pulled himself into the small basket.
The whole undercarriage was bamboo, he noticed.
He turned around to help Oaxyctl, watching the five-foot-long spears on the mongoose-man’s back warily.
“What is that anyway?” John asked about the long handle with the notch at the end. “I haven’t seen anything quite like that.”
Oaxyctl took the spears off his back. He used the leather strap to tie them to a bamboo rail. “Atlatl. You launch darts with it. It triples the length of your throw.”
He busied himself securing his pack. Then he used the cloth straps on the chair to buckle in. John copied him,
though the buckle eluded him at first, as he had only one hand. Once he was strapped in, John looked up along the dirty fabric half a foot over his head.
though the buckle eluded him at first, as he had only one hand. Once he was strapped in, John looked up along the dirty fabric half a foot over his head.
A wooden panel with brass dials and knobs swayed from the undercarriage’s struts above Oaxyctl’s head. Hoses and pipes led away from it.
At the top of the stairs the airship had looked huge. Up close, all John could see above him was the dark expanse of airtight canvas, the light playing off the varnish over its side. All around the cavern, menacing dark edges loomed close, lit by the gap in the earth just big enough to fit the airship through.
Hopefully they wouldn’t hit anything on the way out.
Oaxyctl shifted, causing the undercarriage to squeak. Even though apparently designed for two, their thighs were still mashed close to each other. John’s pants had rips in several places, and it looked as if Oaxyctl had cut slits in his that allowed him to run faster.
“Ready?” Oaxyctl asked.
John nodded.
Oaxyctl held a box with a single switch on it. A wire ran from it all the way to a cavern wall. He flipped the switch up and threw the box over the side. It clanked against the rocky sides.
Sixteen ropes held the airship down. Several groaned from the strain of keeping the lighter-than-air vehicle tethered. They now snapped backward like whips in reverse.
The airship rose into the air. The cavern lip moved past them and gave John a glimpse of the clearing once more. Then they rose over the trees, the wind blowing them into the highest branches, where startled monkeys howled at them in protest.
A hot air gusted, free of the shade below. The airship skipped, then rose over a green sea that stretched before them, rolling all the way to the horizon’s edge until it met the blue skies.
Oaxyctl leaned back after loosening the straps some. He grabbed a wooden handle on the end of a string and started yanking at it. Once, twice, three times.
John craned around to look.
Behind the undercarriage was a large wooden propeller blade with a flap behind it. Just like the propeller and rudder of a fast steamship, John thought. He’d seen a design like that in Capitol City. Oaxyctl yanked once more, and the engine roared to life.
John recognized the stench quickly enough. He turned around.
“Alcohol?” he yelled over the engine.
Oaxyctl nodded. He grabbed a lever with a polished brass and cherry inlaid knob between his legs. When John looked backward again, the large flap behind the propeller waggled, then turned all the way to one side.
“It doesn’t have too much fuel,” Oaxyctl said. “And we don’t have enough power to fight the wind. But it can help guide us.”
The airship slowly changed direction, though the wind still blew them off course, and Oaxyctl kept looking out at the sun to line them up properly. They were getting blown back toward the Wicked Highs to the west, not going northeast toward Capitol City.
“Will we be able to make it to Capitol City?” John asked as a cloud of blue-and-gold parrots burst from the treetops to flee before them.
“There is a great wind high over the Great Mountains that blows east. We must climb higher into the air to find it. If your ears hurt, you pretend to chew.” The airship rose faster. “We don’t have air tanks with us, so watch your breath. We must be careful not to choke.”
John settled farther back into his seat. The horizon seemed to move farther back, but at the same time he could see more of the land all around him. A curl of smoke in the distance rose from Joginstead.
The next time he leaned over the bamboo rail and peered down, John sucked in his breath. He could no longer see branches, just a smooth carpet of green.
“How high are we?” he asked.
“Very high,” Oaxyclt said. “High enough that if you fall, maybe you’d have a few seconds to flap your hands hard and pretend to fly.”
John didn’t find that funny.
They gained height slowly, still getting blown sideways and west. Oaxyctl began to turn the airship to face the mountains. John frowned. The Wicked Highs rose, an impassable wall before them. The air rushed them toward the jagged peaks and valleys. John could see where the trees stopped and bare rock poked into the air.
“How much have you flown machines like this?” John asked. They weren’t too far up that he couldn’t look down and see that they were moving quickly over the ground toward the Wicked Highs.
“Enough to know what I’m doing,” Oaxyctl said.
The air played with them. John’s stomach lurched as the airship dropped down, then rose up. It shook several more times, the air stirring them up as they approached.
“It will get rougher,” Oaxyctl said.
And it did. One drop, the airship being shoved down against its will, almost convinced John he would die dashed against the side of the mountains in this contraption.
“Just hold on.” Oaxyctl spun dials on the panel above him. Hoses leading from thick tanks lashed to the carriage’s underside hissed. The airship rose faster. “Near these mountains at this time,” Oaxyctl explained loudly, “the winds seem to be sucked in just above the surface of the land. Then they rise right up the side of the mountain, and then higher in the air they go the other way. We can use that.”
The winds
were
changing, bearing their airship up the mountain’s side. This was like sailing, in a way, John thought. But you could go up and down as well.
were
changing, bearing their airship up the mountain’s side. This was like sailing, in a way, John thought. But you could go up and down as well.
Oaxyctl jockeyed them higher, and when they rose as high as the Wicked Highs’ top peaks, the wind changed and they flew quickly eastward, as Oaxyctl had predicted. So now they were sweeping in the right direction: mostly east. Eventually they needed to turn north to aim for Capitol City, but at least they were being blown away from the Azteca.
Everything smoothed out, and as they flew away from the mountains, Oaxyctl stopped the engine.
Off to the north by the coast, a thick pall of smoke rose. A burning Brungstun. John looked away from it with burning eyes, looking east at the long expanse of thick-jungled land.
There was hope in this direction.
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