The One Who Dances on Shadowed Feet

SEVEN

"The clans have a long, winding history— both among themselves and with the other inhabitants of the lands. Know this, what you see now is the product of the past. You are blind to the shadows, to the silent footsteps, but when they show up, there will be much to reckon."

- The words of Mountain Chief Ahau

* * *

It was time.

Icthaka felt his breath escape as he beheld the Sacred Oak. In an instant, everything else around him disappeared— trainees, warriors, priests, craftsmen from all the clans. The gnarled trunk itself towered higher than any tree he had seen before, matching the height of a cliff. The gentle rays of dawn filtered through the canopy of tinted leaves, raining down a spectrum of fractured colors. Even the bark itself seemed to gleam gold and ochre. All around them were smaller oaks, each still monstrous in size and resplendent in their cloak of leaves.

A god's mark. Mokhtambal was the valley where the higher beings first descended. Where a man first received K'iinu. Where the five clans formed.

And where those very clans agreed to reunite at the auspicious times where K'iinu buzzed higher in the air.

Where the Sacred Oak faced west, the clans met each other. The Mountain Clan dotted with red, the Forest Clan in greens, the River in yellows, and the Sea Clan in blues. They formed a circle at the foot of the tree, with the chiefs of each clan in the middle.

Ichtaka felt nauseous by the auras present— the multitude of powerful energies bombarding his senses whenever he tried to reach out. He blocked them all out, abandoning the endeavor. He wondered how much more painful it would be if all the clanspeople used K'iinu at the same time.

Mountain Chief Ahau suddenly held up his hand in the air. The other chiefs followed his lead, albeit reluctantly. Ichtaka saw that he was the oldest among them— the others were still glowing with the peak of their years. A hush descended among the clanspeople.

Cadmael glanced at Ichtaka, eyes shining with nerves. Ichtaka tried not to mirror the expression. He couldn't lose focus. The warning. He had to remain vigilant, even if he didn't know what to look for among such a large number of people.

He knew deep in his heart that the Cave Clan was coming. He struggled to avoid falling into the ever-widening pit of dread in his gut. His fractured memory came back to him with greater degree than before.

It was an owl mask, or was it just any bird mask? The ivory knife, slick and stained— the metallic scent of blood causing waves of nausea to roll over him; it was their blood and it was his blood. He had fallen to the ground. Hot, agonizing pain crawled up his side, and he had no escape, for everywhere he looked he saw corpses, still warm. The one in the owl mask didn't advance with the knife again. Instead, the figure summoned a web of K'iinu, finely woven together. Ichtaka struggled to stand as he awaited his fate...

A single piercing note stabbed through the air, shattering the memory he was trapped in. Ichtaka saw that the clans had begun to chant, to sing.

The language was suddenly unfamiliar and wild— praising the One. The Raven. As it continued, a flurry of dancing broke out and the story of creation unfurled. The breath of life that formed the world and all the beings and all that lived. Then of the gods and spirits— some who twisted. Then there was K'iinu.

Slowly, the melody changed direction and weaved the tale of the past— of the Elder Clans and a war that split them apart— made them lose themselves until they did not know their names anymore. The kingdom of Noj-nyre rose from the ruins, and built itself in the east. The clans then put on new names and carried on.

Ichtaka found himself pulled into the frenzied steps of a wild dance as the stories of old resonated through the air. Everything was alive. Vibrant energies swirled around him and he could almost imagine the spirits descending. The clanspeople circled each other as their voices rose to the sky. Icthaka let loose his nerves as he pushed himself from one step to the next, muscles beginning to burn.

Then all at once, the singing and dancing cut to an abrupt end.

A different type of energy had entered the air. Ichtaka could not pinpoint what it was, but every fiber of his being remembered it. His heart pounded as adrenaline surged through his veins. His side throbbed. He reached over to touch his wrist.

So, they had come.

Figures clad in browns and blacks slowly walked towards them, emerging from the shadows of the oaks. Their cloaks concealed their features. They were a relatively small group, but each radiated a strong aura. Save for the occasional splash of red and silver, their clothing was drab and plain. Deceptively so, Icthaka thought. He wasn't a fool— they were dressed for practicality, not for formality.

For how long could he stay disguised in this group? Ichtaka fingered the rough material of the hood he was wearing. A few ornaments made it look intentional, but those who spared him more than a passing glance would immediately know that something was off with his appearance. Just hiding his hair wouldn't be enough.

Be careful with your ambitions...

Ichtaka looked around. The trainees who weren't transfixed by the arrival of the Cave Clan had turned to look at him. Their gazes were hostile, accusing. 

He should've known that he could never be one of them.