Lost Destiny

by Susan Williams

Photo by Scallop Holden

H’Ahnun stood with mouth gaping, unbelieving he was not chosen. He had been primed all his 13 years to be picked for the Mayan ceremony and instead it was his best friend, Ahlin, who was favoured. H’Ahnun knew he should be happy for him, but the hot flush of jealousy was a fiery sword in his belly. The people roared with joy when Ahlin’s name was called by the high priest with the plumed quetzal headdress. Ahlin’s family fell to their knees and thanked the Sun god, Ah Kinchil, for indeed he had shone down on their son, now the chosen one who would walk through the underworld of Xibalba.

H’Ahnun’s father was unable to look at him. His mother’s look of astonishment and then pity was more than he could bear. Face flushed, stinging hot tears threatening to spill, H’Ahnun held his head high and dared not show his weakness. Ahlin, the name that would be on everyone’s lips these next seven kin, turned to him and the pride in his eyes turned to pain when he found H’Ahnun’s. H’Ahnun bowed his head in a gracious gesture to his faithful friend and turned away, not noticing the lithe form of Xicha run ahead. He was only intent on seeking sanctuary in his cool limestone home.

Tears hovered on H’Ahnun’s lower eyelid. He quickly swept his hand over it, leaving a dirty smudge on his cheek. He knew he would miss out on the festivities, the wine, the freshly made corn cakes and his favourite, the vanilla and honey candy dripping off a cinnamon stick. His feet felt like they walked in the mud swamp, as he started the trudge up the hill.

He tried to think where he went wrong, what he did to not keep the favour of the priests. He had been yearning for this opportunity to help the village. His parents had told him of his destiny. The family tradition, his uncle and his uncle before him, they had all walked through Xibalba, and this was to be his walk. He was to then sit next to his uncles and the great god Ah Kinchel for all eternity. He knew this would allow the sun to continue to shine and food would rise from the great earth and families would continue to thrive. His name H’Ahnun was to be revered for the next 13 precessions around the sun. What was his destiny now?

His body sagged with the weight of his heart. He felt tired and worn out, since little sleep was his during the dark, waiting for this special day that was no longer special, but a day he would only want to bury as deep as the time carved into the great stone.

As his feet met the crest of the hill a voice made him stop. He looked up to see a slender form of a woman. She looked ethereal, with the light of Ah Kinchel’s beam on her. “I’m glad you weren’t chosen.” Slightly out of breath, she said it simply and quietly, and H’Ahnun wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly. He moved forward and cocked his head toward her and as the sun shone down on them, he felt as if they were wrapped in a protective cocoon. “I didn’t want you to leave,” she continued. “It wouldn’t be fair, not now.” She reached her hand up, and he shivered as her fingers caressed the track of dirt off his face.

Now he could see, it was Xicha. Although he knew her over many years, chased her as a child, he had never seen her look quite this way before. She a year younger, looked as old as he felt. A deep welling inside of him brought out a croak.

“Xicha, what are you doing here?”

“I ran ahead to meet you, alone,” she said bravely. “I knew it was a sign when your name was not called. I have been praying to Ah Kinchel that he not take you, that you had more to do here…with me.” The clarity in her eyes almost made him believe what she said was right. Is it possible that the Sun god had other plans for him? That he should not be laid out on the high stone altar? It is all he had ever thought of and now…? A surge of excitement made him feel lightheaded, how the laughing falcon must feel when its wings feel the rush of air for the first time. His lips molded into a smile and Xicha joined him, matching his newfound joy. Time, so precious to their people, had stopped.

It seemed so natural to sit on the feather grass, together, the soft wind blowing it gently around their laps. Although young, H’Ahnun and Xicha spoke together of older choices. H’Ahnun felt Xicha’s soft breath caress his skin, breathing life back in his soul, as she spoke of the moment when she knew he was meant for her. He had never allowed himself to ever think this way, knowing he was not able to give himself to another, but now, seeing her in the pink, waning sunlight, nothing had ever made so much sense to him. Her caramel cheeks were slightly flushed and her deep brown eyes held promises he could only imagine. It was getting late, but their only obligation was to each other, now with hands clasped together, the pulse of their hearts felt by each, H’Ahnun leaned in to fully embrace this wondrous creature. She met him with a strength her small frame belied. H’Ahnun felt what only he thought he could feel by giving himself to Ah Kinchel.

A rousing noise from below broke their reverie. The village was arguing, raised voices bickering. The concern on Xicha’s face when she raised her head made H’Ahnun turn to see a lone figure running up the hill towards them. It was his brother, Lache. It took H’Ahnun a moment to realize that something was very wrong. H’Ahnun and Xicha stood together to meet Lache. The words fell out of him in a rush.

“Our priest, that rat, was given many jewels to say Ahlin’s name. Ahlin is not the chosen one, it is you brother! You, H’Ahnun will walk in Xibalba!”

At first he thought it was a cruel joke of his little brother’s, but saw the seriousness in his face, with the crowd below surging towards them now and H’Ahnun knew it was true. A small gasp beside him turned him around. The look of horror on Xicha’s face, wrenched his gut.

“H’Ahnun! H’Ahnun!” the chorus from the crowd could be heard. “H’Ahnun, H’Ahnun!” the roar grew closer until the manic crowd was upon them.

He had waited all his life for this, and when he was raised above them, like a hunter after a prized kill, Xicha’s hand was separated from his. He watched her as she stood, tears tracking the rounds of her face; arm still outstretched, as he was led away with the clucking villagers toward his celebration.