THE GUNFIGHTER AND THE SHAMAN

The foyer of the Raven had a blue tiled floor with geometric designs, a long bench with a wooden back on the right-hand side and wooden rockers on the left, their seats made of cane fibers. The walls were painted blue as well, with large prints of archaeological digs, most likely from Egypt, judging from the camels present in the pictures.

Our boots rang on the three stone steps as we climbed up to the lobby, where the hotel desk sat on our right. Of modern design, it had a rack of cubbyholes corresponding to each room, with a key attached to a foot long piece of wood in each one so the guests would not forget to turn it in when they left the building. A staircase with wide stone steps, leading to the second floor, stood on our left as we passed it and entered the cantina.

To my surprise, it was open to the sky. The doors to the second, third, and fourth story rooms faced the metal rails guarding the open area, while the tile floor, with a metal drain in the center, had square wooden tables and hard back chairs with more cane seats. At the far end stood a long bar made of dark wood, its shelves holding glass bottles, no doubt filled with spirits, while a keg marked with the word cerveza rested on wooden supports in a corner.

Through a doorway to the left of the bar I could hear chopping sounds and the rattle of pans, with a woman giving orders in Spanish. Over the doorway, a carved sign read ‘Maria’s Cocina’, while an archway lined in brick beside it led into shadows.

Standing in the middle of the cantina was a young female Eldarion. Black haired with dark brown skin, her ears were just beginning to spiral upwards, and she was dressed just like the native women except for the black embroidery on her sleeves. The moment she laid eyes on me, anger swept over the Eldarion’s face before she stabbed her finger at my chest. “The answer is no!”

I realized I was gaping at her and shut my mouth. “Excuse me?”

She began waving her arms around as if exasperated. “Isn’t my English good enough? No, no, no; I’m not having a child with you, no matter what.” Her arm snapped out in the direction of the pier. “Now, get back on your ship and sail away to that barbaric island that killed my mother, because I’ll never bear your child.” She put her hands on her hips. “Do you understand me? Never!” Everyone stared at her in shock at her outburst, except my grandfather.

He burst out laughing. It was the Eldarion’s turn to looked shocked as his laugh became almost a sob. “When I served in India with Naamah, I nicknamed your mother, ‘Old Spear-Tongue’, because she could flay the skin off an Englishman with her language.”

The Eldarion rubbed her eye with the palm of her hand. “You’re making fun of me.”

Grandfather shook his head as he walked into the cantina. “No. If anything, I am having a bitter jest at my own expense. Kinubal, I have told Jonathan nothing about what Naamah said to me about replacing the daughter she and I were supposed to have together.”

I gave a start. “Wait, what?”

“That was part of the price for the help we received.” The others were gathering near us as he looked around. “I will say no more, except the price has to be paid, one way or another.” He looked at Kinubal. “If you do not wish to bear a daughter then I will not press the point.”

All at once I remembered what Naamah had said back in Edinburgh. “Sir, the army captain that went insane-”

“Enough,” he growled at me. “We will behave as English gentlemales. If the lady does not want any part of this, and I in good faith cannot lay blame upon her for that decision, then I will suffer the captain’s fate without flinching.”

Kinubal’s expression became uncertain, as if this was not going the way she had expected, as Catherwood made his way to the front of the group. “Please forgive my lack of manners, yet I must intrude. Sister of the People, I bear greetings from the clan Cornish-Heath, with health to you, your clan, but most especially to my daughter whom I hoped to see.”

Uncertainty slid into guilt. “Brother of the People, I bear regrets that the clan Yax-Che cannot greet you as is proper. Nor can we allow you to travel to the city Edzna, where little Rain Blossom is living.” She drew herself up. “However, if you are in any manner of extremis, I am available.”

Catherwood was already shaking his head. “I thank you for the offer. However, New York was vigorous, so all is well.”

“As you will.” She appeared relieved, though on an Eldarion’s face it is often hard to tell. “My grandmother is in the far courtyard with Jack, and she’d like to see everyone who’s going to be on the expedition. So, if you’ll follow me.” Kinubal turned around and I noticed her feet were bare as she began walking towards the red brick lined arch to the left of the kitchen. My grandfather started after her and the rest of us followed. Up ahead, I began hearing the mellow sounds of a guitar.

We walked through the archway into an overgrown jungle of trees growing out of the stone floor, and ceramic pots holding plants spilling over their sides. Kinubal pushed the foliage aside as she led us through the growth to the center of the courtyard. Glancing up, I could see the open sky above us like a great, blue eye.

The sounds of the guitar grew stronger, and as I moved aside the branches of a sweeping fern, I found the source. A slender male with light brown skin and black hair sat on a stone block carved to look like a serpent’s head, one leg propped up with a guitar against it. He plucked the strings in the Spanish style, the music soft and romantic.

Otherwise, he was dressed like I imagined a gunfighter would look, with boots, denim trousers, and a rough shirt tucked in, the scarred leather belt at his waist holding a sheathed knife almost as long as a machete on one side, and a holstered pistol on the other. Below the pistol was another sheathe from which a different knife, with a handle that looked like black bone, stuck out. His lean face was covered in a trimmed beard, and when he glanced up, nodded, and stopped playing, I realized his ears came to a point.

Sitting at his feet was the oldest Eldarion I had ever seen. She looked like something out of a story, with white hair in a braid down past her shoulders, her dark brown face not ageless but wrinkled, and her ear spirals drooping so low they bounced whenever she moved her head. She wore a red dress in the same style as the native women, with black embroidery, and her feet were bare. Her eyes were closed. The half-blood male laid the guitar against the stone with a soft thrum of the strings. “Reckon we’ve got company.”

The old Eldarion snorted as she opened her eyes. “Jack master at stating obvious.” She looked up at Kinubal, who was standing over her. “So, you change mind?”

“No.” Kinubal crossed her thin arms over her chest. “The old man told me he won’t try to talk me out of it, either.”

“I told you, explain what happen if not have child. You not speak English good?”

“Speak English well,” Jack said, correcting her.

The old Eldarion glared at him. “Well is chaltun, place to hold water. Jack is idiot.”

Jack rolled his eyes, which I noticed were blue, and I tried suppressing my smile. He noticed and gave me a broad wink as Kinubal spat out, “I speak English just fine. What I resent is being treated like I’m a brood mare.”

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Remembering the story about the army captain, I took a step forward. “If you please, I would like to know what will happen to my grandfather if we do not go through with this.”

Grandfather whirled around. “Jonathan, what did I tell you?”

Anger born of fear flared up inside me. “To stand up for what is right and never give into injustice. You taught me to fight for what I believe in, to fight for those who cannot or will not fight for themselves.” I waved my arms in frustration. “How can you expect me to just stand by and watch you be driven insane like the army captain?”

“This is a matter to be discussed in private,” he snapped. “You will obey-”

“Ha!” I skipped back a step as the old Eldarion climbed to her feet and stood less than an arm's length in front of me. “I Ran-Li, shaman for Eldarion-Maya. No word in language for lion so I call you Ek Leon, Black Lion. You Tranka, gate that swings open for Ek Balam Ahau, Lord of Star Jaguars, Lord of Eternal Night. When you call, he come, bring Balam K’anal. All people not Maya hunted down. All people Star Jaguars find, die.”

I was already shaking my head. “You are wrong. I would never cause something like that to happen.”

Ran-Li gave me a derisive snort. “If not convince Kinubal, dead English soldiers come, take Old Lion to place where captain fights battle without Ek Balam Ahau. Captain hacked to death, wounds heal, all go back to beginning. Fight again. No rest.” She turned to face my grandfather. “Same for you.”

My grandfather’s face was sliding into horror as I turned towards Kinubal. “We have to do this. Look, I do not relish being a breeding stud any more than you a brood mare, but I will not see my grandfather suffer endlessly if I can do something about it.”

Kinubal set her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m inferior in some way?”

“What? No… I mean, it would strange and all with you being Eldarion, but-”

“I’m strange? I’m strange?” Her voice began rising. “You’re the one who’s inferior, because you’re malformed.”

“Malformed? I am not-”

“You heard me. Tall as a giant and black as an evil jaguar, you’re just like all the other barbaric outlanders who come here to steal our gold and force themselves on our females-”

“I would never do that,” I nearly shouted, waving my hand towards the floor. “And if you want to speak of being barbaric, I am not the one flouncing around barefoot without proper footwear-”

“Which you use to hide your big, ugly feet.”

“Sounds like true love,” Dame Kerry quipped.

Kinubal and I both turned on her. “Shut up,” we said in unison.

We stopped and stared at one another as the group either laughed or coughed with their hands over their mouths. I wanted nothing more than to sink right into the floor and never be seen again as Jack got to his feet and ambled over. “Reckon I’m about as neutral in this as anyone can be right now, so how about you folks skedaddle for a time and let me try to unruffle some feathers between these two.”

My grandfather fixed him with a stern look. “There is no way I am leaving my grandson alone and unattended with a complete stranger. For all I know, you could be in league with the ones trying to kidnap him.”

Jack met him stare for stare. “There ain’t enough gold in the world for me to go back on my word and I gave it to Ran-Li from the get-go. Besides, I ain’t a stranger, seeing as how you knew my mam when she was still living in England.” Jack took a small wooden box from his pocket and handed it over to my grandfather.

Grandfather slid the cover off and his eyes widened. “Jonathan, look at this.” He handed me the wooden box and I looked inside. It held a medal, suspended by a red ribbon, depicting a coat of arms: two lions holding in their paws a white shield with a red cross, with a much smaller shield in the upper left-hand corner. “That is the ‘Medal of Valor’, given by the East India Trading Company for acts of extraordinary bravery while serving in their army.”

I looked up at him. “This is the same medal you have in your shadow box.”

“Shadow box?” Je’kyll asked.

“An old military tradition,” my grandfather answered. “When you are aboard ship and departing the vessel for the last time, it is bad luck for your shadow to touch England before you do. So, your comrades make you a small case with your medals and trophies from your years of service, a ‘shadow of yourself’, so to speak. Thus, once you are safely back on English soil, you are presented with the shadow box, and tradition is preserved.”

“Pull it out and look at the name inscribed on the back,” Jack said.

I did so, flipping it over in my hand. “Sergeant John Watson.”

Jack held his hand out as I replaced the medal, and I returned the box to Jack as my grandfather, suspicion strong in his voice, asked, “How did you get this?”

“It was with my mam’s things, and after she died I took it with me.” He put the small box back in his pocket. “Don’t know if it’s truth or just a story, but mam told me she took it with her when she eloped with a fella twice her age and sailed for America.” His voice became sharp. “She told me she did it on account of her pa’s not being the same man as the one who left for India.”

My grandfather sighed. “None of us who survived were the same afterward. John was a good man and a good soldier, who joined the Londinium police force within a month of our return. The East-end of Londinium is where the poor live, the roughest, most dangerous part of the city, and most officers will do anything not to be assigned there. John requested it. I guess I should not be surprised that…” He seemed to struggle for a word. “What was his daughter’s name?”

“Mam’s name was Mary.”

My grandfather snapped his fingers. “Yes, that was it. John was heartbroken when his daughter left England, and even though I used my contacts to try and locate her, the farthest I got was New York, where they emigrated. What happened to her?”

Jack grimaced. “Her durn fool husband lit out with a wagon train heading for the Territories. Mam said they wanted to make a new life for themselves, except no one asked the Apache, whose ancestral lands they were stealing, if that was alright with them. My old man’s folk didn’t take it too kindly and wiped out the wagon train to the last man, woman, and child, except for mam. The Eldarion bastard needed a human woman to get a male child on, which was why she was spared.”

Catherwood asked, “Why was that so important? The process cannot happen naturally, and it is known for certain that it renders the male infertile for the rest of his life.”

Jack shrugged. “If he was still above ground, you could ask him. But him and mam died when I was fifteen.”

Miss Ravenwood, who had listening quietly with the others, wrung her hands. “Oh, that’s terrible. How did they die?”

“Same as most folks, I reckon. Life’s hard in the Territories.” Jack turned back towards my grandfather. “Anyhow, I was working as a scout down Mexico way when Naamah found me drinking whiskey in a dusty little cantina. The Eldarion-Maya have the ability to do something they call ‘dream-walking’, which my old man’s tribe has as well, so when she told me she’d had a vision saying I was needed, I believed her and came to Campeche while she sailed off to England.” He motioned at my grandfather. “Mam told me stories about you and Naamah did too, so part of why I came was to see what the Black Lion of Londinium was like.”

My grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “No one upends their life just for a dream or because they are curious. What do you truly want?”

Jack met his gaze square on. “That when this expedition’s over and done with, you’ll find me so useful that you’ll let me come with you to England.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “I’ve got nothing here, no kinfolk or any other ties holding me back. Mam told me stories about Londinium and I’d like to see the place for myself, see if any of the family’s still alive and kicking.”

“John’s wife died several years ago,” my grandfather said as his eyes softened, “and John followed within the year. The only ones who showed up were those of us who had served together in India, and all those working with him on the force. None of the family attended, as I remember.”

Jack exhaled sharply. “Reckoned that was the case. Still, my feet are itching to be gone from here, so I’ll work to earn your trust and see what happens.”

“My mother trusted Jack,” Kinubal said as her voice grew bitter. “Most of our people saw her as a maimed, scarred, thing, someone to be pitied and not loved. Jack treated her as if the scars didn’t exist.”

When we looked at him, Jack shrugged. “Reckon I’ve had a harder life than anyone else around these parts and old scars don’t bother me a mite. I tell you what: Maria should have dinner on in an hour, so let me set a spell with these two youngsters while the rest of you light out and see the city.”

“Only if Rune keeps an eye on him,” Dame Kerry said in a voice like stone. “I’m responsible for Jonathan’s safety, and while Mr. Goldspear may have some faith in you,” the Koncava giving him a hard smile, “I don’t.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Long as he sits his arse in the cantina and looks through the archway, reckon I don’t give a wooden nickel one way or another.”

“Then it’s settled,” Miss Ravenwood chirped. “Kerry, since you’re responsible for the young man’s safety, come with me so I can show you the back door out of the courtyard and the rest of the building. Rhys can take the rest of you on a short tour of Campeche while my porters get your luggage settled in your rooms.” She gave us a broad grin. “I must say, you’re the most interesting guests we’ve had here in a month of Mondays.” Miss Ravenwood threw open her arms as she said, “Let me be the first to welcome you to Campeche.”

The Raven still exists as a hotel in Campeche City, though it’s been bought out and renovated. The past has not been entirely forgotten, though; the cubbyholes with the room keys are still used, and the walls have reprints of the drawings Catherwood made during this expedition, including one of the hotel with Miss Ravenwood and Rhys standing on the steps, arms around each other and smiling.