Seven Tides

8 Departing Souls

 Life is a journey, and death is a doorway to the next one. That is what most people hope; that this mortal existence is not the ultimate and meaningless end to all that we once were. All religions hold this belief in one form or another. Some believe it is the final reward for having lived a good and honorable life. Others believe that only faith in a god can guarantee continued existence. Silva tells me Buddhists believe this life is one of many lives on the path to enlightenment, and that there is not one true god per se, only magical beings that can help or hinder a person along the path to becoming pure light.

Gentle hands raise my head. Kitsanaku is giving me water. Gabriel and Silva are there, along with Muala.

"Oh! Boontoo you are awake!" Muala gently says. "Poison make you sleep too long." She places her palm on my cheek. Her touch cools and soothes my burning skin. Piala peeks over her sister's shoulder. She has a bruised forehead and her arm is in a sling. I smile weakly, just glad to know she is alive.

"Well, you are finally awake, Mr. Nazario." Captain Cabral remarks from where he stands by the fire.

"You!" I exclaim. Confused images of the carnage slowly come back to me.

"Excuse me?" Cabral seems astonished by my anger.

"What are you doing here? Why did you attack them?" I wheeze in disgust. My memory is fragmented into bits and pieces and sewn together in a random order.

"You think I attacked the village?" and then half-shouting, "I damn well saved them!" he says, storming g over to my cot. After a moment, Cabral collects himself.

"According to Yanca, it was the 'Ganayac'. They came out of the jungle. They must have crept up along the ridge in the night and hid in the trees. The Manyan had no chance of escape. The Ganayac would have killed everyone if our pistols had not momentarily confused them, but then more arrived in canoes and swarmed the ship. Only our cannons changed the course of the fight.

"Who are the Ganayac?"

"Old tribe, tribe from before, when all one tribe." Yanca begins, "They cruel. They hunt for hunting. They kill for killing. They take and never give. Many years yesterday, my father young man, me young boy, all people one tribe, one king. Tutlenac powerful shaman, old, like me now. King deep sleep, no wake up. Shaman say king speak through sleep. He say king want sacrifice. People say no to sacrifice. Tutlenac angry. He force many sacrifice. Father make secret plan to leave. He and others go in night. We travel many days. Moon full one time. We come here, far from Tutlenac, far from sacrifice.

Cabral speaks, "How could it be him? He would be more than a hundred years old.

"It him. Much power, much bad magic, and much Sarana memory." Yanca peels a banana.

"Who is Sarana?"

"Tutlenac want Sarana for wife. She no want him. She my wife. She die now."

"They won't be back," — Cabral sweeps his hand in a wide arc— "not after the canon fire."

"No!" Yanca stops peeling. "Tutlenac come again. Come with many men."

"We can be ready this time!" I blurt out. "We can position our ship at the—."

"You presume too much, Mr. Nazario." Cabral interjects. "We sail up the coast tomorrow." He brushes his pants and starts to leave.

"What? No! We cannot leave. The Ganayac will slaughter them. They need our —."

"And what would you do, Mr. Nazario, against a hundred, maybe two hundred of these Ganayac warriors? We barely have enough men to crew the ship now."

"But we cannot leave them like this." I make one last plea.