The Jaguar Warrior

The Jaguar Warrior - Part 1

The lanky 9-year-old ran through the green maize field into the light, breathing hard. Akbal was only a farmer’s child, but he knew the danger and might of the jaguar hot on his heels. He knew he was slower because of the 2-year-old child he was carrying. He made a hard right, and his feet met the coolness of the jungle floor. The massive canopy 30 feet over his head blocked much of the sunlight, and he immediately realized his mistake. Not only was it already the month of Pax, the month of the jaguar, but he had just given the sleek animal the ultimate advantage. The trees were its home. He felt as if he was being watched, and he knew he was being followed. His heart was pounding in fear and his mouth was dry. He slowed to a walk, trying to comfort the weeping child in his arms. He kept his eyes on the trees. “Kinichi Ahua (god of sun), please don’t allow your messenger to take this child to the Xibalba (underworld)” he prayed, then headed for the dull roar in the distance. He was certain that the warriors in the city would be looking for the child, as he was certain (due to the red and gold clothing the child wore and the elongated shape of his skull) that the child was a noble of some sort. Akbal focused on the trees around the path, knowing the jaguar could blend into the deep shadows. He came around a giant tree and the dull roar he had been heading for was before his eyes. A giant waterfall that emptied a river into a cenote would be the perfect place to hide, due to the many caves in the area. He heard a low, continuous growl behind him and turned around slowly, cradling the child in such a way as to where the boy wouldn’t see the animal. He breathed quietly, praying silently to the gods that he wouldn’t go to Xibalba yet. The pale yellow eyes did not waver, looking at its prize, locked on to the tiny child in his arms. The low growl went up slightly in pitch, but the eyes did not leave the child. Akbal took a slow step back, then another. He slowly put the boy down, facing him. He searched the jungle floor frantically, then his eyes locked on what could be a weapon. Now several steps away from the child, he slowly reached down for the stick. With the best war cry he could muster, he launched the stick into the air the way he had seen the warriors launch their spears. The stick glanced off the jaguar, but the growl disappeared, and the spotted feline turned and screamed at him. In an instant he tumbled down into the dirt with a 200-pound feline on top of him. The left side of his face all the way down to his lower chest was aflame with pain. He screamed in pain and anger but could barely move because of the weight on his chest. His hands grasped for something, anything that he could use to get this animal off him, then his fingers touched a jagged rock. He clutched the rock, and, with one more pained scream, he bashed the left side of the jaguar’s head. The animal let out an angry, wounded yowl, and through the blood on his face he could see that he had left a jagged, bloody gash. The feline’s left eye seemed to have disappeared into the blood. The cat let out an angry yowl, then bounded off into the jungle. He dimly heard the warriors shouting in the background, vaguely heard the wails of the child, felt himself being lifted from the ground. Then everything went dark. Was this Xibalba?