THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 15/18
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Sun, 4 Mar 2001 01:39:23 -0500
THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 15/18
Chapter 15
Panting, Corazon Negro lifted his head slightly and saw the scene, and
Quetzalcohuatl's voice sounded in his head: <Fight! Get up and fight! You
must protect the Black Flower!>
Unexpectedly for Don Lucas, as his sword came down, the Indio* raised his
Maquahuitl*, knocking the blade aside. But instead of parrying the sword
away from him, the warrior slid his slippery weapon up the steel until the
obsidian shards cut into Don Lucas's right armpit. Pushing up with all the
strength he had left, and straightening his legs, Corazon Negro neatly tore
Don Lucas's arm off his shoulder. Don Lucas screamed. Corazon Negro brought
his weapon down and back up under Don Lucas's armor and into the Spaniard's
belly. He twisted, feeling the obsidian rocks grab Don Lucas's intestines.
Then the Aztec wrenched out his Maquahuitl*, pulling out vital organs and
showering both their legs and feet with blood, flesh and even some
already-eaten food. The smell of blood and shit filled the air. No longer
cool and calm, Don Lucas fell to his knees, weeping like a coward, vainly
trying one-handed to keep in the life that ran out of his body.
"Now you die at my feet like the Cihuachichilama* you really are!" Corazon
Negro yelled in triumph. Then, pausing only to start a back swing, the Aztec
brought his weapon back around and cut off Don Lucas's head, which continued
to cry, on the grass, for a single, horrible, gargled exhalation.
Don Carlos, who was already starting his own downswing, heard his brother
scream and turned just in time to see Lucas's head hit the ground. For a
moment his mind simply stopped working, unable to comprehend--or
believe--what his eyes had just seen. Lucas, dead? Beheaded!? "NOOOO! YOU
FUCKING BASTARD!!!" the Immortal yelled, rushing headlong toward the Aztec.
Corazon Negro saw the madman running at him like a wild beast. Exhausted and
hurt, he nevertheless knew he had to move quickly, before the Quickening
began; otherwise Don Carlos would slaughter him like a steer. With both
hands he threw his Maquahuitl* toward Don Carlos, disarming himself. The
weapon hit the Spaniard in the chest, imbedding itself and making him fall
backwards onto his back--and still near Curi-Rayen, whom Corazon Negro could
see was already fumbling for her sword.
Corazon Negro could feel the electricity building up all around him. "Now!
Quickly, Curi-Rayen! Kill him!" he yelled at her.
<Oh my God! !Dios mio, Dios mio!>* she thought. She had to hurry. She was
dizzy, her head was splitting, and she could only see out of one eye, but
she had seen Don Carlos fall down. She crawled toward him on all fours,
dripping blood, trying to ignore the pain, dragging her weapon. Finally she
stumbled to her feet, using her sword as a crutch. Staggering, she finally
reached him where he lay on the ground, moaning and swearing, trying to
remove Corazon Negro's weapon from his chest.
"!No!" he roared at her, his voice wavering. "!No, puta*, no!"
She raised her sword, looking down at her enemy. "!Solamente puede haber
una*!" she cried out, swinging down like a cook with a chicken on a chopping
block. But the first blow didn't behead him, although it cut his vocal
cords.
Blood erupted from Don Carlo's throat like a fountain, painting her hands
and face as she bent over him. The red and dense liquid tasted sweet in her
mouth, but all she wanted was for him to die, to go ahead and die. But he
wouldn't, and she was forced to watch Don Carlos' eyes as he mutely screamed
while she swung two more times before his head finally came loose in a river
of blood.
Meanwhile Corazon Negro had run to her, almost in slow motion, doubled over
and clutching the knife in his belly, not daring to pull it out, hoping to
reach her before he bled to death. He caught her as she fell again, and the
jolt made him groan and almost pass out. They both sank to the bloodied
ground right next to one of the bodies, but Corazon Negro couldn't even tell
whose it was.
She was shaking uncontrollably. In a trembling voice she murmured, "His
blood covered me ... his blood ... there was so much, my God, it was in my
mouth!" Her voice cracked, and she gave a big, gulping sob which broke
Corazon Negro's heart. "I killed him, I ... I cut off his ... his head. But
it wouldn't come off. I chopped and I chopped, but it wouldn't ... It
wouldn't ..."
"Don't worry, child," he soothed her, looking into her horrified eyes,
caressing her hair with bloodied hands. He tried to remove some of the blood
on Curi-Rayen's face, but only managed to leave her features painted like a
grotesque war mask. He prayed her dreams would not be troubled for too many
years by this terrible image. "You did right. He's gone; and this is what we
do, why we were born--" Gritting his teeth, he pulled Don Lucas's dagger out
of his body with a great big gasp, covering the wound with one hand while he
wrapped his other arm around her. Then he closed his eyes and pressed her
face into his chest, knowing what was coming.
**********
Duran rancho*
Don Alvaro pulled on the reins and leaped off his horse almost before it had
stopped, right in front of his house. He had made a mistake, a bad one,
maybe a fatal one. He should never have left Mariaelena here, unprotected,
while those two monsters, the men he had once called his sons, Lucas and
Carlos, roamed free. He had found where the brothers had killed an Indio*
farmer and his family--a family that Don Alvaro knew. So the Don had taken a
few minutes to cover the mutilated corpses and set the hut on fire, with the
bodies in it, and to release their one lone mule to forage on his own. He
had had further evidence of where the brothers had gone as he'd looked north
over the pampa and seen a flight of vultures. He knew where those vultures
were and what they meant.
But now he was home, and he rushed inside, not totally reassured by the
complete absence of an immortal signature. It meant that the brothers were
not here--!gracias a Dios!* But neither was his daughter.
"Fernanda!" he cried out. But if Mariaelena wasn't here, her aya* might not
be, either. Surely Paco would be with Mariaelena, wouldn't he? He'd better
be. "Cristina!" he called instead, to get his housekeeper.
But it was Fernanda who came out of Mariaelena's bedroom. "Don Alvaro.
Welcome back!"
"Where is she, Fernanda? And why aren't you with her?"
Fernanda, who had been walking towards her master, stopped and even took a
step back from him, putting her hand protectively to her chest. "She went
riding, Don Alvaro, as she always does in the mornings. Paco, Fulgencio and
Joselito are with her. And ..."
"And?" he asked, coming closer, towering over her. This woman had faced
guns, swords and abusive husbands. He knew he was terrifying her--and he
didn't care.
"The Indio*. The Aztec, Corazon Negro. He is ..." here she lowered her
voice, looking around her before continuing, "... an Immortal, but
Mariaelena trusts him, to a certain ..." She trailed off, obviously
realizing Don Alvaro was no longer paying attention to her.
Don Alvaro was no longer paying attention to Fernanda. Instead, he was
looking out the front door, which he had left open. Looking out at the
pampa. He was looking at a lightning storm. Except he could tell, even at
this distance--it was by the river, near the small stand of ombu trees,
twenty-five kilometers away--that it was not a lightning storm.
It was a Quickening.
Mariaelena was out riding with an unknown Immortal--no he hadn't missed
hearing that piece of news, although he was relieved this Immortal, Corazon
Negro, who the hell was he? And why was she out riding with him? But at
least he was not Lucas and Carlos, although Lucas and Carlos were nearby.
And it was a Quickening.
Ignoring the Spanish woman, Don Alvaro ran back out of the house to the
stables, yelling orders. Old Tomas was the first man he saw. "Tomas, saddle
me a horse and pack supplies for a few days' trip. Quickly, now, and get a
group of riders to gear up and come with me."
The old man fairly leaped to obey, and Don Alvaro took the time to come back
to the courtyard and sit on a bench, close his eyes, meditate and pray,
precisely because it was the last thing he wanted to do. What he actually
wanted to do was rant, rave and kill someone. Right now. But instead, he
reverted to his ancient training, to a technique his teacher had taught him
centuries ago, interspersed with a more modern appeal to the true God, and
it helped him rest, as well as center and calm himself for the struggle
ahead. And when Tomas cleared his throat and said, in a barely audible
voice, "Don Alvaro", the Don opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and with a
steady step, ignoring the ache in his chest, went to his horse. But he was
too well trained in the strategy of knowing his enemies to ride blindly into
a situation--again. Riding impulsively to Buenos Aires was what had gotten
him in trouble in the first place, and if Mariaelena was dead as a result
... But no; it had not been her Quickening. They wouldn't kill her right
away, and that thought made him feel better and sick at the same time.
"Bring the men by the grove of trees at the river's edge, as soon as you
can," he instructed Tomas in an even voice. "Be well armed. And ..." he
thought about it for a moment. They might need to bring bodies back. Or ...
"Extra horses. And shovels. I'll be right out."
He walked quickly back into the house and found Fernanda, who was in the
bedroom she shared with Mariaelena, on her knees, praying. As he came in the
door she stood, crossing herself, and faced him.
"Fernanda, tell me about this Aztec, this Corazon Negro."
"Si; he came four days ago, Don Alvaro," she explained. "He told her he was
following an old prophecy and that he needed to protect the ... black
flower. Curi-Rayen."
Don Alvaro knew what Mariaelena's Indian name meant. He asked, "He is with
her?" She nodded. "Who else? Paco?"
"Yes, a few riders went with them. Paco was worried because of the other
Immortal--"
"The *other* Immortal?" he roared, moving closer to her again.
Fernanda shrank back, and the Don took a deep breath, glad he had questioned
her. A few more minutes would not make a difference, and information was as
potent a weapon as a sword sometimes. "Tell me about *him*," he ordered
brusquely.
"I didn't speak with him, but I saw him waiting for her. A young Spaniard,
very nicely dressed and well spoken. A gentleman. She said his name was Don
Juan Pedro Carabas, and that he knew you from long ago."
Don Juan Pedro Carabas was the first Immortal Don Lucas had killed, in 1228.
The use of that name was a message meant for Don Alvaro. He felt his heart
pound wildly in his chest. "He was alone?"
"Si, Senor."
If Lucas had been here at the rancho*, his brother Carlos was nearby. They
knew about Mariaelena--Lucas had even seen her. Dear God! He took another
deep breath to calm himself. "The Aztec who was 'protecting' her--he's been
here for days? Tell me about him."
Fernanda thought rather more quickly than usual. "A strong man. Brave--he
saved little Joaquin from being trampled to death by that big black, Samson.
I would say ... he is sincere, and believes in this prophecy of his. And he
said he would die protecting her."
<Enough.> "So be it. If she dies," he murmured, "so will he, and everyone
else, mortal or Immortal."
With that pronouncement, he went outside. Waiting on their horses were two
of his riders and two house servants, armed with pistols, knives, and
muskets. But Don Alvaro had one more set of orders.
"Tomas," Don Alvaro said, "do you know the group of mestizos* in that farm
north of here, about thirty leagues?"
"The two families who banded together. The Perez and the other family. I
know the place, patron*," the man answered.
Banding together hadn't helped them, Don Alvaro thought bitterly. He
mounted. "They are all dead," he announced. "You'll need a wagon. Leave the
houses for someone else who finds them and can use them. And bring back any
farm animals."
Then Don Alvaro and his men rode off in a flurry of dust.
**********
By the river, in the pampa
As they had been in life, the brothers united their life essence, and as
both their Quickenings became free, the bodies rose from the ground, the
lights merged into one, and that circle of energy surrounded the victorious
Immortals. Curi-Rayen and Corazon Negro felt the earth move underneath their
bodies as the blue-green rays hit them and the ground, burning everything in
its path and sinking into them, plunging into them like many stab
wounds--but as two Quickenings, not one. Their hair rose with the strong
electric charge, and they felt as though their blood was boiling while their
minds, together, understood the horrors that the brothers had wrought, the
tortures, the murders, the rapes, feeling them from the point of view of the
torturers, the murderers, the rapists. Corazon Negro was appalled, but he'd
seen many horrors in his long life. As for Mariaelena--she was repelled,
disgusted, horrified. She screamed, "!No! !Por el amor de Dios, no*!"
But there was more. As their own Quickenings combined with the brothers',
fighting off the Dons' influence, reasserting their own souls, for a moment,
Corazon Negro and Mariaelena shared all four Quickenings. For a
heart-stopping moment the two Immortals became one, just as the brothers had
been.
Mariaelena's feelings for Corazon Negro became more powerful than ever.
Every part of her body and mind was aware of Corazon Negro as if he were the
center of the storm called her life. She stopped screaming in pain and
horror when she realized she could now see images of ancient temples, smell
incense burning, taste exotic fruits, feel the lash on her skin. She made
inarticulate sounds of joy, of sorrow, of pain. And she knew him--his
courage, his fears, his honor, his tragedies, his faith. His loves. Corazon
Negro's life was hers. In her mind he found a home and she tasted the glory
as he could taste hers.
And she knew that the feeling was mutual. She knew that Corazon Negro would
know her now, know about her horrible childhood, about her love of horses,
about her father, her blessings and her joys and her despair, better than
anyone ever had or anyone ever would again. And she knew that he was in love
with her.
In their minds, both Immortals could see a future, a better world for them,
in a better time. The energy of the Quickenings plundered and renewed their
bodies at the same time, but all they could feel was that they were, for a
blazing minute in time, as one.
The energy ceased and Curi-Rayen finally dared to open her eyes. Corazon
Negro was holding her in his arms, looking down into her face, panting in
pain and exertion. They had shared everything they were, invariably binding
one to the other like the Moon and the Sun. Perhaps that was what the
brothers had shared, Quickenings together, if it was possible. Perhaps this
was why they had been so close. But no, she thought. Not even the brothers
could have been this close, could have been, as Corazon Negro and Mariaelena
Duran had been, one mind and one body.
But they couldn't stay like this, contemplating their fate. There were
things to be done. The mortals who had ridden with them, she had to see to
them, care for them. She tried to get to her feet, but her face still hurt
her a lot, and the wound in her side was just beginning to heal. She
collapsed.
"Rest for a moment," the Aztec whispered, pulling her well away from Don
Carlos' body and laying her down on the grass. Although the Quickening had
healed him somewhat, and he knew that his belly wound would not kill
him--this time--he was still totally exhausted. Nevertheless, he had to go
to the mortals. He knew the boy, Joselito, was dead, and Fulgencio had been
trampled by one of the brothers; but Paco?
Paco had rolled onto his back, but by this time could not even raise his
head. The scattered shot from the musket had penetrated the middle of his
chest, leaviing a series of deep wounds. His breath was rasping, and bloody
bubbles were gathering on his lips with every strained exhale. Corazon Negro
had seen men wounded in this way before. They did not recover. Kneeling, he
carefully lifted Paco's head onto his own bloody thighs, knowing it would
ease the old man's breathing for a few minutes more.
Paco grabbed the Aztec's torn, bloody shirt. Corazon Negro winced but did
not pull away. "?La Senorita?" the old man rasped.
"She's fine," Corazon Negro hastened to assure him. "She will be all right."
"Yes, thank God," he breathed, then added, "She fought them. Didn't run ..."
"No. She fought like a cougar."
"I knew it. Love her ... like my own child. Tell her ... ," he shook his
head. "I'm finished."
The Indio* Immortal nodded. "I will tell her," he promised. "But I think she
already knows."
"The others, Joselito? I think ... I saw him fall?"
Joselito was dead. "He hit his head; he'll be fine," the Aztec lied. "And
Fulgencio may have some broken bones, but we'll take care of him." Corazon
Negro didn't know if Fulgencio was alive, but he was not going to burden a
dying old man's last moments with any more pain.
"Joaquin ... his mother ... tell them ..." were Paco's last words.
"I will tell him how much you love them, and I will tell Joaquin how proud
you are of him. Goodbye, my good friend," Corazon Negro whispered; but he
doubted that the old man heard him.
By the time Mariaelena healed, got to her feet, took one unsteady step, then
slipped and almost fell down again on Don Carlos' blood, she had managed to
push back her own nausea and fear, remembering the mortals who had come with
them. She reached Corazon Negro just as Paco was breathing his last, and she
never got to say goodbye. "!Paco! !Mi viejo*!" she cried, cradling his head.
Leaving her weeping on Paco's chest, Corazon Negro got back to his feet and
went to see how Fulgencio was. The young man was not only alive--his eyes
were open and staring. He had crawled away from the fight, and now that it
was over, he pushed himself along the ground, whimpering in pain and fear,
trying to get away from the Immortal.
Obviously he had seen more than he should have, and something would have to
be told to him. But that was Don Alvaro's job. For now, the Aztec put his
hands in front of him, palms outward, in the classic, 'I'm not going to hurt
you' gesture. "Fulgencio, it's all right. It's over."
"Who? What?"
"I am Corazon Negro, your friend, the same man I was before; and so is
Senorita Duran."
"Yes. Yes, but--"
"You've had a great shock." Maybe he could convince the boy, at least for
now ... "You hit your head, had a dream."
"Did I dream the two terrible ... men on the white horses?" Fulgencio asked.
"Were they devils?"
"No. They were men. And you didn't dream their attack on us. They shot ...
Paco and Joselito. They are both dead, I'm sorry. Also the priest and the
other boy, Ari."
Fulgencio nodded once, twice, then his head continued bobbing up and down
many times, until finally he began to cry, long, low sobs. Corazon Negro
knew he was covered with blood; nevertheless, he reached out to Fulgencio.
"You're hurt. Let me help you." And after a moment, the young man was crying
in Corazon Negro's arms.
Notes & Translations:
Maquahuitl (Nahuatl): Aztec weapon, a hardwood club the length of a man's
arm embedded with razor-sharp pieces of obsidian; designed to rip limbs off
!Solamente puede haber uno/a! (Spanish): There can be only one!
Cihuachichilama (Nahuatl): whore, prostitute.
!Gracias a Dios! (Spanish): Thank God!
!Ayudame, Dios mio! (Spanish): help me, my God!
aya (Spanish): middle-aged elderly companion/chaperone/servant to a young
Spanish noblewoman
patron (Spanish): boss
!Por el amor de Dios! (Spanish): for the love of God!
mi viejo (Spanish): my old man (term of endearment)