Page 54 of Corvus and the Broken God

The one topic that interested me greatly, on which I could not find enough information, was regarding Camazotz, my very own Bat God or Death Bat, depending on who you asked. Every time I asked him, he brushed me off. It is not important. You already know me better than anyone else. Blah, blah.

But I did get some glimpses into the gods who molded the minds of the Mayan people. He warned me off this research, too, saying much of it was speculation and most of his fellows had evolved in the last thousand years. But he conceded they were all narcissists or megalomaniacs, none of whom liked being contradicted. Or hearing the word no. They were used to doing whatever, and whomever, they wanted. Not the kind of enemies it was healthy to have. My Monster opposed the ruthless way they used man to further their own greedy desires. Each and every one of them was filthy rich, owning more than they could ever spend, but they could never be satisfied.

I suspected my Monster had virtually unlimited means as well, but as far as I knew, he didn’t use it to exert influence over those less fortunate. Maybe he should, since he seemed to have some compassion squirreled away under the rough exterior. Except when he was threatened, but that made sense to me, even if I didn’t like it. The pile of bones Darryl had unearthed still bothered me. We’d talk about it afterwards, if we were still around. The thought of risking my life to help him didn’t scare me as much as it should, but the threat was still vague. Chaac had seemed so civilized when I’d seen him, but they had both been acting. I had been able to find some theories describing how Chaac and Camazotz were longtime enemies, but it wasn’t enough to override the memory of their civil interaction.

I loved seeing the land itself after reading so much about it. The Yucatán Peninsula consisted mostly of limestone. Underneath the sandy top layer were hundreds of feet of caves and water. Only hardy plants survived here, ones that could either tunnel through the limestone, like the ceiba tree the Mayans called their Tree of Life, or were opportunistic enough to hitch their roots to it. I tried to imagine what those caves looked like. Were they like ours in size or makeup? But then I thought of the various levels of caves, shuddering at what it must be like to get stuck down there. No wonder these ancient people set up their underworld directly beneath their feet. It didn’t require an active imagination to picture all sorts of horrors awaiting one down there. Their human sacrifices involved being bled out and thrown down into the deep waters in exchange for mercy from their gods.

Despite all that hard rock foundation, the plants surrounding us were lush and tropical. Giant green fronds scraped against the sides of the Jeep, slowing us down. I grabbed a few, breathing in their bright scent as I bruised the flesh. Finally, the road ended in front of a rudimentary hut made of bamboo or some type of wide reed, nestled among giant banana leaves. Sweat and dust covered me, streaking down my face, but I had enjoyed our drive. Hopefully, his friend wouldn’t be put off by my scruffy appearance.

As we climbed out of the Jeep, a diminutive man with curly salt and pepper hair and a grizzled beard emerged from the hut. Camazotz greeted his friend with a broad smile and a formal hug, speaking with the old man in a language that sounded like Japanese. As I approached, I noticed his almond eyes and deeply tanned, smooth skin, like someone with some Japanese ancestry who had moved to Mexico to live off the land.

His eyes crinkled, and he smiled warmly as my Monster introduced me to Hiroshi. He shook my hand with both of his and turned to Camazotz, still speaking in the foreign language.

“She speaks only English, my friend,” said my Monster.

“Sorry, sorry. Hello, nice to meet you, Freya.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Hiroshi.” He nodded, still smiling, and we were ushered inside, where a wide ceiling fan was the only newer item in a space built in the last century. The rest of it looked ancient. It was a circular building with a pitched, thatched roof, higher in the middle than at the edges. Fascinated, I studied the construction. Using reeds and a stucco-like material made curves more easily possible. Sparsely placed furniture looked like it had seen multiple campaigns, patched and repaired many times. The packed earth floor wore several threadbare rugs, but everything was clean and neat. He didn’t have much clutter. Since I had no idea what they were talking about, I was free to take it all in.

I was staring at the ceiling fan when Camazotz appeared at my side. “He has a solar-powered battery on the roof. That is the extent of his electricity. Just like mine.”

“What do you use electricity for besides lighting?” I hadn’t yet spotted a single appliance at the big house, despite several searches.

“Mostly for when I need to interface with the wider world, the lighting down in the caves, and for the refrigerator we’ll order when we get back. I’m holding you to the promise of making me hamburgers at home.”

I chuckled. “Deal. Where is our host?”

“Out back. He is preparing tea. We are to join him at his pottery tent.”

Pottery tent? How strange. But I liked his friend even though our ability to communicate was limited. “Okay. Lead the way.”

We stepped out into the humid jungle, where the moisture from a brief rain shower pooled on the giant green fronds around us. I followed my Monster around the hut to the back, where a thin trail disappeared into a wall of green. I stepped out fearlessly, even as my mind compiled all the various snakes and reptiles indigenous to the area. I wanted to show him I could be brave, even if I had to pretend. Around a bend, a wide head covered in jaguar spots broke through the green at elbow height. I shrieked and backed up into Camazotz. He grabbed me by my hips and whispered in my ear.

“Shh, don’t move. Statues don’t like to be snuck up on.”

“A statue?” It looked real. So real, I hesitated to move toward it.

He chuckled, pinching me. “Look at my brave crow. Afraid of a fake jaguar.”

His mocking motivated me to move closer, and I pulled a palm frond from its side. The creature was life-sized and beautifully crafted. The head came up to my hip. “He made this?”

“Yes. This and many more. I am sure he’ll show you—if you ask nicely and promise not to startle them.”

I smacked his arm, and he chuckled. Convinced the magnificent beast wouldn’t bite my hand off, I reached out and ran my hand along its smooth, hard surface. “How did he do this?”

“He is very talented. Come, let us accept his offer before the tea grows cold.”

I walked slowly down the path, eyes peeled for more wonders as Camazotz teased me. We came to a large open-air pergola, many times the size of his hut. The roof was about fifteen feet above the ground, and two long picnic-type tables stood at the center. Various clay animals of all shapes and sizes covered them. Gila monsters and iguanas perched randomly, so lifelike I could’ve sworn some moved. I had to inspect each one, lagging behind. A large crocodile smiled at me, showing off its thick teeth. Snakes so brilliant in color, I hesitated to get too close. If a real serpent hid in their midst, I’d never spot it in time. The men were engrossed in conversation at the far end of the space, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the beauty of these sculptures. I could hardly believe human hands had made them.

On the facing table, the animals were tamer: jungle cats smaller than the jaguar that had frightened me, small spotted deer, some type of anteater, and a couple of weasels I had never seen before.

“Corvus?” I hadn’t heard him approach, so I jumped. “Careful, the tea is hot.”

He held out a delicate teacup made of such thin porcelain that the sides were almost transparent. I reached out my hand, but instead of handing me the cup, he took my hand and pulled me toward the far end of the open-air “shed.”

“You’re being rude to our host, Corvus.”

“You’re being rude by not speaking English.” But neither of us was truly annoyed. When we reached the old man, Camazotz placed the teacup on the nearest table, telling me to drink it while it was hot. I refrained from rolling my eyes and complaining that he could’ve let me admire the animals a little longer, but just barely.