calamity.
The movement inside the phenomenon became clearer. The glare disappeared, was covered.
Then something black and powerful pressed itself out of the crack.
Large.
Very large.
Chitam involuntarily took a step back. But a Prince didn’t run away. He conquered his instinct for flight, while others around him dropped everything and bolted screaming. Panic. Panic everywhere. Feelings like a storm, but the Prince stood like a rock, out of defiance, out of stupidity, out of dignity … or all of that at one and the same time.
Chitam stared up.
The black thing fell like a stone, but not far, maybe ten, maybe twenty meters, straight to the top of his father’s mausoleum, and as if to forcefully end the silence of the whole process, it crashed deafeningly into it. The ground shook as if a gigantic hammer had hit the ground.
And it impacted like a hammer on the half-finished building.
Now Chitam finally moved.
Stones fell down. The ominous creaking of the black thing into the temple generated a piercing sound. Chitam stumbled, almost fell, looked around, just couldn’t avert his gaze, caught in a deadly fascination.
The black object wavered. It fought for its balance, as it came to rest across the dented temple, despite the swirling dust and falling debris well visible.
The crunching subsided. The screaming of the people became louder again.
The crack in the skies was gone. The heavens calm, innocent, as if nothing had happened. Birds flew. The clouds promised rain. People ran and ran.
Chitam didn’t. He turned and wiped dust on his face, covered his nose, coughed several times.
He heard someone yelling instructions. One who had overcome the shock.
The Prince took a step forward, then another. The smoke spread. The big black thing rested in the middle of the pyramid and didn’t move.
Chitam’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t quite right. Something was spinning at one end, fast, shoveling the air and the remaining smoke around. He thought he heard a whirring sound that accompanied the strange wheel in its rush. The wheel sat right at the end of the strange apparition and did nothing but turn around completely uselessly, but it got slower and slower. It was clear to see that it came to a stop. It wasn’t a wheel. There were three leaves, as if from a tree, suspended from a pole, apparently made of obsidian.
Damn, that thing was big. It looked as heavy as it had fallen, and it was … long, round, with an elevation in the middle … He had never seen anything like it and had never heard of it.
Still, it reminded Chitam of something, and he wondered a little about the image he had in mind – it looked like a fish that a man had captured with his spear from the river, a fish that had been thrown to the ground and then to be killed with a quick blow, but before its dead it twitched desperate and outside of its element.
The fact that this phenomenon reminded him of a fish was certainly due to the fact that there was water everywhere! The black thing glistened wet in the morning sun and dripped along its sides. In fact, it had emerged from the crack along with a larger amount of water, now puddling everywhere, like a rainstorm. A strange smell filled the air. It smelled … weird.
Some of the traders – the few that traveled to the shores of the great waters to negotiate with the villages for exotic fish and crabs for the King’s table – reported the specific smell of the sea. The water there was not drinkable, they had reported, and it had a different smell than that from the rivers or the big cisterns where the citizens of Yax Mutal collect the precious liquid.
Did this enigmatic object come out of the big waters?
How did that happen?
Chitam took another step forward. He saw soldiers of the palace guard appear. Officers shouted something, gave instructions, but everything was very uncoordinated, hectic.
Chitam stretched, raised his arms, and shouted, “Listen to me!”
He had a clear, far-reaching voice. Screams became quieter. Eyes turned to him, he was recognized.
“Bring the wounded away!” Chitam called loudly. “Close access to the pyramid! Bring more soldiers!”
Clear commands, a clear direction. Activity followed, this time purposefully.
Chitam breathed in the salty air, gazing at the small tower sticking out of the object, and the big sign, red on white, a radiant, rising sun.
He was pretty sure that the time of surprises was not over yet. The apparition looked as if it would come to rest after this effort. But what happened when it shook off its own confusion and awoke to new life? And no matter how dull he felt, he knew at this moment that it meant something to be the Crown Prince of Yax Mutal.
It was time to accept the duties that were involved.
But why, Chitam thought as he continued to watch the object intensely, why did he now have a very, very bad feeling?
7
Something cracked. It woke Aritomo.
He moved his head and felt a strong pain. With difficulty, his hand reached up. He touched his hair, felt moisture, felt more pain as he fingered his scalp. He opened his eyes. It was pitch dark. He couldn’t actually see the hand in front of his eyes.
He found himself on the ground, and he felt … crooked. He felt a wall on his back, and gravity pushed him slightly against it. Aritomo listened. No noise from the machine. The boat was completely still. With luck, it didn’t sink but floated in the water at a certain depth or at the surface. In that case, there was hope for all of them.
He blinked. No, the darkness was real, it wasn’t his eyes, as far as he could tell. He tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his skull, fought the burgeoning exhaustion, the recurring urge to close his eyelids and just have a little …
What had happened?
Aritomo lacked any memory. Unconsciousness, probably due to carbon dioxide poisoning, he remembered. But after that? How long had he passed out? What about the boat and its crew? And why did the air smell fresh, as if it had never …?
He felt around. The wall wasn’t smooth, his hands slid over instruments, screws, then his fingertips reached a small box. In his mind, Aritomo saw what it could be … With luck …
He slipped sideways. Apart from the obvious head injury, he seemed to be fine, and the pain, with him giving his attention to new activity, gave way to a dull throb. It was hopefully nothing worse. But he needed light to find out – and other survivors.
He heard a moan, not far from him.
Aritomo was relieved, more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t alone.
“This is Second Lieutenant Hara!” he said aloud. “Has anyone awakened? Speak if you can!”
“Ishida here, Lieutenant,” he heard a strained voice.
