Mayan Lover Read Free Page B

dressed in dirt-colored fabric made of a material
that Arka was unfamiliar with. “You are shaman?”
    He shrugged. “That’s what I’m
told. My father was a shaman, and his father before him. We all are
descendants of shamans. My name is Enrique. And if the stories are
true, you are Arka, many times my great uncle.”
    Arka’s sister Gia was fifteen years
younger than him two minutes ago. He adored her, doted on her, taught
her to fight, and lavished every minute of his spare time on her. He
wished he could have seen her reach womanhood. Held the children she
obviously brought to life. To look upon her descendant filled him
with his love of her. He could see his sister’s smile on
Enrique’s face. “How far have I traveled?”
    Enrique held out his hand; Arka took it and
stood. “By current account, it’s the twenty-first
century. By ancient Mayan calendar, it is two years before the end of
time.”
    He swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in his
throat. That meant Arka only had a short time to meet the Goddess of
Moonlight, gain her trust, and unite her with the amethyst skull of
her Moon Goddess mother. The weight of the future bore down on his
shoulders. Remain near the skull. When the time is right, she will
come to you. He reminded himself of the simple knowledge gifted
to him by the crystal skull in his hands upon his final communion. He
looked out over the land that once supported his people. Except for
the sacred temple beneath his feet, everything was gone, replaced by
strange lights, sounds, smells, and unfamiliar structures.
    Most of the structures were made of wood and
cloth. A few were some type of metal set above black round things.
Laughter floated up from the structures, as did the odd hum. They
encircled deep-pitted holes with wooden ladders dropped into them
where his village had once sat. The edge of the forest had reclaimed
much of the fields. Those that remained were littered and untended.
Arka wondered how this new tribe grew enough food to sustain the
people. And what was the gods’ awful noise?
    “It’s called a generator.”
Enrique answered his unasked question. Was his nephew able to read
minds? Did Enrique have a connection to the Goddess? “You had a
confused look on your face. I was told growing up that if …
err … when you came, it would be my duty to teach you of the
modern world. Those people are archaeologists. They dig up the
remnants of ancient times and study them.” Enrique’s
language skills were crude, but Arka could understand him.
    “ Ancient times” … he means
my time. Have they discovered the amethyst skull? His gaze fell
to the spot he’d buried it, and he was relieved to see the
ground undisturbed in the distance. As Enrique loaded the items he’d
traveled with into strange bags, Arka tried to speak with the shaman.
He touched his skull to each of the small ones belonging to the
shaman who had aided his arrival. Only a few used words he
understood. Using those words as a reference in relation to those the
others said, he learned the words for greetings, welcome and hello.
Body language and facial expressions gave him more new words and
phrases to describe something incredulous. Words like “oh my
god,” “un-fucking-believable,” “you got to be
shitting me,” and “amazing.” He added them to the
“wow” Enrique had said.
    When he’d given the shamans a personal
thank you, he bid them each farewell. He noted that none entered the
strange village; instead they scattered into the forest. Odd. Enrique
handed him a thin, square rug. Arka had no idea what was expected of
him. Enrique snatched the rug back and tied it around his waist in
demonstration, then offered it to him again with a grin.
    With the rug tied on, Enrique handed him one of
the strange bags that carried Arka’s wealth and lifted the
other to his shoulder. Arka mirrored him and followed his
many-times-grandnephew down the crumbling, nicked, and weather-ruined
steps. Twenty-first