Hiking east through the hilly terrain outside Dzibanche was an exhausting endeavor. They started off down trails, and then veered through the thick brush for the next several hours, bush whacking through the dense jungle. Priest Quisac said the rugged course was safer, and it would reduce the journey by half a day.
William attempted conversation along the way, but the Serpent Priest told him not to speak, for there were Calakmul scouts in the area. Priest Quisac insisted that he couldn’t be distracted while plotting their course-leaving William alone in his thoughts as they marched on.
He recalled his conversation with Teshna the night before. He had just finished teaching her some English phrases to use with Betty, when a worried look crept over her. “You go to Bacalar to seek your path home, do you not?” Teshna asked.
“I need to know if it’s possible to return-or if I’m to spend my life here.”
“Would that be so bad?” She gave him a warm embrace and a lasting kiss before they parted ways.
William recalled her sensual kiss-way more enticing than the infrequent cold pecks that his ex-girlfriend used to offer. Yes, Jennifer was definitely his ex-girlfriend, he decided. William had fallen for the Princess, and he liked the idea of staying with her. However, he worried about his mom, and he missed aspects of his old life, too. He hoped the journey to Bacalar would shed some light on his options, and help him to decide what to do.
Around midday, they stopped at a water hole that Priest Quisac called a chultune, where little mosquitoes buzzed over the surface. The Serpent Priest dropped his pack to the ground and refilled his jug from the greenish water.
William sat with a heavy thump. “Thank God we’re stopping,” he said, but then remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk during the trip. He slapped his hands to his mouth with a guilty look.
Priest Quisac cocked his head, listening for a few seconds. “It is safe to speak here.”
“Oh good,” William said, getting excited. “Can you tell me more about the jade cavern? Do you really think it’s the same place where we were trapped? How do you get inside?”
“It is not the reason we are traveling to Bacalar,” Priest Quisac said, cutting him off.
William’s enthusiasm deflated like a balloon letting out its air. “I know you have other things to do there, but I thought you wanted me to come along so you could show me those caverns… to help me figure out if I can get home.”
“The stars tell me that you are required on this journey to retrieve the sacred items. There is no time for other distractions.”
A sour look crossed William’s face. “It’s not fair,” he said, tearing through his pack and pulling out his water jug. He guzzled from it with the look of a kid who just had his car keys taken from him. He dipped his jug into the chultune, swishing away the green muck floating on the surface to keep the slime out.
Priest Quisac noticed William’s upset reaction, and he groaned like a frustrated parent. “Very well, I will take you to the Sacred Cavern of Jade… on the way back.”
“Really?” William asked, his enthusiasm returning.
Priest Quisac stood and slung his pack over his shoulder.
“You mentioned a legend before,” William said, “about a passage in the jade cavern. What’s that about?”
“It is the ‘Legend of the Serpent Passage.’ I will speak of this when we make camp this evening. For now, we must continue.”
Dark clouds drifted in from the east, followed by a thunderstorm that pounded on the trees overhead. Though protected from the intensity of the rainfall, they still got soaked, which for William was a welcome relief. After an hour, the storm blew past. The heat of the sun dried their clothes, leaving them sticky and sweaty in the humid climate.
They weaved a zigzag path through the jungle for several hours until emerging from the brush onto a wider trail. “This path shall lead us the remainder of the way to Bacalar,” Priest Quisac said. “We must proceed with caution.”
They continued along until darkness obscured their way, and then moved a short distance off the trail to find a safe place to camp for the night.
“I had hoped to reach the great cenote by this time,” Priest Quisac said. “We must conserve our water supply until then.”
“Can we make a fire?” William asked. He set his pack beside a tree and used it as a pillow to lean against.
“I know it is dark, but we do not wish to attract the attention of others at this point in our journey. You will find the light within your dreams.”
“But you promised to tell me about that legend… of the Serpent Passage.”
“That I did,” Priest Quisac said. “However, rather than tell you in my own words, I will channel the story to you from the voice of a Serpent Priest who has long since left this plane. He spoke the legend to me when I was very young, just as it was told to him when he was a child.”
“Oh, cool.”
The Serpent Priest sat cross-legged and took several deep breaths. His silver eyes rolled back, reflecting a reddish glow from the bloodstone radiating off William’s chest. “In memory of this day, of baktuns past, let it be known,” Priest Quisac said in a strange voice as vivid images began appearing in William’s mind. “On the day of the longest night, a creature arrived in our land. From the Sacred Cavern of Jade, came he. Standing as a man, was he-with skin of a lizard and hair of feathers. Came he to be known as Gukumatz, the feathered serpent. Come, did he say, to harvest his crops and to collect his seeds.”
Priest Quisac let out a heavy sigh and then continued channeling. “Gukumatz was not pleased, for his crops had not flourished. Sent, did he, the chupacabras into the world, to destroy the last of the Olmec-to break the skulls and collect the seeds. In another world was his home, said he. On the day of the longest day, Gukumatz left our land. Through the Serpent Passage, went he. Thus it be known, in memory of this day, of baktuns past.”
Priest Quisac slumped back, shook his head, and spoke in his own voice again. “That is the legend told to me,” he said, while giving William a curious stare. “Tell me now… what are your thoughts on this legend?”
While chewing on a piece of dried meat from his rations, William mulled it over for a long while, still seeing the image of the strange serpent creature in his head. “Are the feathered serpents real?”
“They are physical beings that live beneath our world. I have not encountered one for many tuns.”
“You mentioned chupacabras,” William said. “My grandfather blames the chupacabras for anything really bad that happens… like when his horse died… or when my leftover birthday cake disappeared.”
“All legends have an origin of truth,” Priest Quisac said. He retrieved his cotton mat from his pack, rolled it out, and lied down. William did the same, and they both gazed into the stars. “What else did you gather from the legend?” the Serpent Priest asked.
“Well… the legend said Gukumatz arrived on the day of the longest night. That’s the winter solstice… the longest night of the year. He returned home on the day of the longest day. That’s the summer solstice… the longest day of the year.”
“It is indeed. That is also the very day you arrived from the Serpent Passage-the day of the summer solstice.”
William wished he had his watch to double check, but he had given it to Yax. “I’m not sure of the exact date I arrived.”
“The night you made your appearance on the temple was the evening of the summer solstice,” Priest Quisac said with confidence. “It is why the sacrifices were planned for that night.”
“It has to be the same place,” William said, remembering their journey underwater, and the serpent carvings he saw on both ends of the tunnel. “We went through the Serpent Passage!”
After further discussion of the legend, they agreed that Gukumatz traveled to the future on the day of the winter solstice to harvest something he had planted in the race of the Olmecs. He then went back in time on the day of the summer solstice to return with the seeds he had collected.
“It’s the opposite of my problem,” William said. “My home is in the future, while his home was in the past. But what were the seeds that Gukumatz wanted to collect from the skulls of the Olmec?”
“That is not known,” the Serpent Priest said. “This occurred near the end of the Olmec civilization, many baktuns ago, and it led to their demise.”
William rolled onto his side and regarded the Serpent Priest. “That’s too bad for the Olmec… but great news for me! If the legend is true, it means I can go back to my own time. I just have to wait for the winter solstice, and…” He slapped his hand to his forehead. “But the Serpent Passage is underwater… and those crocodiles ate my scuba gear!”
“Let us sleep on the matter,” the Serpent Priest said, with a yawn. “Perhaps we will discover a solution between now and the coming solstice.”
William wondered how long he could hold his breath, and he practiced as he lied there. However, the day’s strenuous activities caught up with him, and when he let out his held breath, William fell asleep.
After a quick breakfast before sunrise, they were back on their feet and plodding down the plaster trail again. About an hour along, the Cenote Azul came into view. William smiled at the lake, somehow feeling comforted by his connection to it. “In my time, there’s a restaurant over there,” William said, pointing to his left as they neared the water’s edge.
Priest Quisac scanned the vicinity, looking concerned.
“Is something wrong?” William asked.
“The great cenote is blessed every morning at dawn. I had expected to find the brothers of the Solar Cult here.” He shot a look down the trail as approaching voices could be heard.
“Is that them?”
“Silence!” Priest Quisac whispered. “We must hide.”
They ducked behind the brush at the water’s edge just as six warriors armed with spears came around the bend in the trail. One of the warriors seemed to hear something. He shouted to the others, and they ran down the trail, heading in the direction that he and Priest Quisac had just traveled earlier that morning.
“Who were those guys?” William asked.
“Calakmul warriors. They are hunting. We must wait for them to return to Bacalar before proceeding.”
“What are they doing in Bacalar?”
Priest Quisac shook his head. “It is what we must find out.”
A couple hours passed as they sat there on the damp ground, under the cover of the tall grass. They remained still, listening with extreme concentration for any sign of the returning warriors.
William became antsy just waiting there, swatting at mosquitoes. The collective buzz of insects became annoying too, like the hum of a smoke detector going off in the distance. He began to think the warriors weren’t coming back. “Maybe they were just passing through,” William whispered.
The Serpent Priest raised his hand in a gesture to be quiet, tilting his head toward the trail. “No, they are coming. Be still.”
He couldn’t hear anything at first, but then footsteps and chatter became audible. William crouched lower. The warrior’s conversation had a jubilant tone as they neared. They laughed with each other as they filled their jugs from the lake. Their voices faded into the distance as they departed back up the trail toward Bacalar.
Priest Quisac glanced at William. “They killed a boar and spoke of a feast tonight. The King of Calakmul likely dispatched a team to capture the village before the priests could escape with the sacred items.”
They picked up their packs, shuffled through the brush, and filled their jugs from the cenote. William stripped down to his loin cloth and slipped into the water to get refreshed. “There must be a lot of warriors there… to overthrow Bacalar,” he said as he climbed out of the lake.
Priest Quisac shook his head. “Bacalar is no longer the powerful nation it once was. Only the brothers of the Solar Cult remain. The strength of our people-the Itzae-now resides in Chichen Itza.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We must learn what happened to the priests in Bacalar. However, our priority is to retrieve the sacred items.”
William pulled on his headdress and sandals, and wrapped a short leathery cape over his shoulders. “There are only two of us, Priest Quisac. Are the sacred items that important?”
“Yes, they are items of power from another world. If we succeed in our mission, I shall show them to you.”
They marched north for a long while, following the trail that wound its way close to the shores of Bacalar lagoon.
“You said your people are the Itzae?” William asked, making conversation as they walked. “They moved to Chichen Itza?”
“That is correct.”
“Where did your people first come from?” he asked, still wondering why Priest Quisac’s features were somewhat different than the other Mayans.
The Serpent Priest gazed into the sky. “It is said that the Itzaes came from the stars more than ten thousand tuns before.”
“Wow!” William said, with a bit of a laugh in his response, not sure if he could believe that. “I thought you’d say that your people came from somewhere like Guatemala or Peru… but from the stars? Seriously?”
“Our ancestors copulated with the inhabitants of this land and became who we are today. Yet in our essence, the Itzaes carry the seed of our ancient ancestors-our brothers from the stars.”
“Okay, whatever,” William muttered. It wasn’t an important topic at the moment, so he brushed it off.
Priest Quisac moved off the trail, heading toward a cluster of thatched huts. “Thousands once lived in these lands. Their homes can be found throughout the region-long abandoned and crumbling.” They entered one of the dilapidated huts. “Let us wait here until dark, so that our arrival goes unnoticed.”
William sat on the floor and leaned against a support beam. While munching on a dried tortilla from his pack, he rested his eyes for a moment. It felt so nice to relax that he decided to take a short nap, and fell asleep with the food still in his lap.
“That smells delicious, Mom,” William said, waiting in a dining room in his dream. “What is it?”
“It’s something very special. Are you hungry?” his mother asked in her caring way.
“I’m starving! Is it chicken… or steak?”
“No.” She carried a covered platter from the kitchen and set it on the table. “How delicious… how delectable… how tasty… hee-hee-hee,” she said, laughing in the voice of the demon, Yum Cimil. She jerked the lid off the platter to reveal the cooked head of a man staring back at him. It was his dad!
William screamed, leaping out from his chair.
“William,” his dad’s head spoke from the platter, “you must let me go.”
William backed away from the table in terror.
His mom ripped an ear off his dad’s cooked head with a cracking sound, like pulling a wing off a roasted chicken. She popped it in her mouth, chewed up the crunchy ear, and licked her lips with her long black tongue.
William couldn’t move-he felt paralyzed.
His mom wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Please forgive me, Jupiter. Where are my manners? Dreadful… horrible… ghastly,” she said in the voice of the demon. She stuck a fork into his dad’s eyeball and plucked it out with a pop. The eyeball’s juices dripped off the end of her fork as she crept toward William, holding it out to him. “You must try some, Jupiter. Or should I say… Balam!” Black goop oozed out her nostrils and the corners of her mouth.
“No! I don’t want to!”
“Balam,” he heard Priest Quisac’s voice in his head, and he fought to break his paralysis. His mom approached closer, waving the eyeball before him, laughing with the demon’s laugh, and staring at him with black sunken eyes. “Wake up, Balam,” he heard the Serpent Priest again.
William opened his eyes and struggled away from Priest Quisac, thinking he was the demon at first. After gathering his senses and catching his breath, he sat up and told the Serpent Priest about his frightening dream. He paused, sniffing the air. “That’s the same smell from my dream.”
“They are roasting the wild boar in Bacalar,” Priest Quisac said. “Although Yum Cimil cannot harm you here, he may find his way into your dreams. This is his manner of communication. He pleads for you to break the curse of the soil plague that has him bound-to remove the head of King Aztuk.”
They gathered their things and continued down the trail, with the moon lighting their way. A short time later, Priest Quisac stopped and pointed at the glow from a campfire in the distance. “Their camp is in the clearing by the lagoon.”
William’s stomach growled from the delicious smell of the roasting boar. But he detected another foul odor drifting in the wind, as well. “What’s that… other smell?”
Priest Quisac cringed. “It is the smell of death.”