The First Genesis Read online

  ‘Old friend,’ K’ul Kelem said compassionately. ‘I have seen a lifetime of emotion pass through your face in seconds.’ She laughed with joy. ‘I am glad to see you again but,’ she let go his shoulders and her face became serious. ‘I thought you would have left us many years ago. You are well beyond the normal lifetime allotted to you.’

  ‘K’ul Kelem,’ he said. ‘I have news.’ He glanced again at Hachakyum. ‘But yes, you’re correct,’ he chuckled. ‘My lifetime has surpassed all others I have known although I do not believe I have many years left in this old body. I have always believed the touch of Hachakyum added these years to my life. Again, I am grateful to him and to you,’ he said as she smiled at him. ‘Once for my life and twice for the extra years allotted to me,’ he said. ‘I have come to help you.’

  ‘We are always glad of people who will help but your days of labour are behind you,’ she said. ‘We will provide for you, there is no need to work.’ She laughed. ‘You may spend your days as you wish. The children, and others too I’m sure, would love to hear your stories.’

  ‘No, no,’ his face frowned. ‘I have come with a warning.’ He scanned the faces of the people turned his way, attempting to draw them in as he did at the beginning of his storytelling sessions.

  ‘You are in grave danger. A violence is planned against you, against all of you, the likes of which I have never seen before.’

  He waited and assessed the impression he had made. He had everyone’s attention and a few others, who had been out of earshot, had come to the crowd clustered around the old visitor.

  ‘All the people to the north, and to the west. All the people who live on the coastline that curves from the east to the west. All the people who surround you, K’ul Kelem.’ He waited. He felt the joy of attention given to an acknowledged storyteller. ‘All those people are of a single mind and that mind is one of conquest. It is a mind of violence. Not a violence of reaction, of anger and swift reprisal for a wrong. Just or not. These people have joined in their single purpose to remove you, to remove your people, from the land where you live. From here. From where I stand among you. They intend to cleanse this land of your presence. To remove the memory of your ancestors.’

  He finished his preamble with his arms outspread, his eyes jumping between each face of his audience.

  K’ul Kelem folded her arms and frowned in annoyance. People did not act in such a concerted way. People rectified wrongs with swift revenge and although it took a few tit-for-tat reprisals, eventually the wrong was considered paid. She did not believe Lakam Pakal, his announcement was nonsensical, he was befuddled.

  She uncrossed her arms and smiled. She put an arm around his shoulder and led him away, to where Hachakyum sat by the smouldering fire. She knew the others would not follow.

  K’ul Kelem sat Lakam Pakal across the fire from Hachakyum.

  Hachakyum spoke to the fire. ‘It is good to see you again, Lakam Pakal. I am glad that you have been able to join us for your last years.’

  Lakam Pakal was surprised and delighted to be addressed by Hachakyum but he turned to K’ul Kelem.

  ‘You must prepare. After the rains have finished many strong men and women will come from the north. I do not know what has come over them,‘ he shook his head as he remembered peaceful days. ‘They are changed. They believe what is not true, too easily.’

  Lakam Pakal watched a smile begin on K’ul Kelem’s face. He became annoyed with her misunderstanding.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he waved his arm. ‘Not the world of stories, not the worlds I create. These are persistent lies that cause anger. Their purpose is to sustain hatred. And that hatred is towards you, K’ul Kelem, and your people. I do not know how it is maintained. The generations have changed and it grows stronger. The hatred has a life of its own, I have seen it begin from a misunderstanding to become the guiding fact in many lives, the lives of people who want for little. I am an old man, I do not understand,’ his voice fell away as he dwelt on his inadequacies. ‘However,’ his voice strengthened again. ‘It is something I know to be true. I was there at the ceremonies that decided the course of action.’

  K’ul Kelem’s features became blank, they registered nothing as if her sadness and bewilderment balanced her anger and resignation. She believed Lakam Pakal. She felt heavy and weary. She wanted to sleep deeply, wake and have the problems resolved.

  She asked Hachakyum. ‘What should we do?’

  ‘Are you asking what should I do, or what should you do?’ he said.

  ‘Is it true? What Lakam Pakal says?’

  Hachakyum was silent for a moment as if he was listening to some distant conversation.

  ‘Yes,’ Hachakyum said.

  ‘How did this happen?’ she asked Lakam Pakal.

  ‘I do not know,’ Lakam Pakal said. ‘I told stories of the old days, of your life before Hachakyum, of his coming, of how you saved my life.’ He quickly turned to Hachakyum, ‘How you saved my life, Hachakyum.’ Lakam Pakal did not know if the god would be angered. When Hachakyum did not respond, Lakam Pakal continued. ‘They would not believe and the harder I tried, the stronger became the resistance. I told adventurous stories of your earlier life, to show them how you are. I told them of how Hachakyum came twice to this world. But, I failed. I am sorry. In the end they believed the opposite. They believed you defeated them, killed their leader, my father, by treachery and deceit. They do not believe you exist. It is your name, your memory that they revile. It is your descendants that they wish to punish for your crimes. To take this land that is bountiful.’ He shook his head as if trying to dislodge discomforting thoughts. ‘I do not understand how that anger could have lasted for so long. It has grown instead of being lost, lodged in the rotting hearts of men.’

  ‘You have prolonged and fanned the story yourself,’ Hachakyum said. ‘Your long life, which is my fault for an inexact restoration, has made them afraid. And your insistence, your repeating the name of K’ul Kelem, your heroic stories of her have not let her memory fade when she withdrew.’ Hachakyum ignored the emotion that gripped Lakam Pakal’s face.

  The old man’s head fell into his hands and he sobbed.

  Hachakyum said to K’ul Kelem. ‘My revenge for the harm that was done to you was the starting point.’

  ‘But you can stop it all. You can make it right,’ the old man jerked his damp face from his hands.

  ‘No harm will come to K’ul Kelem,’ Hachakyum said. ‘The fate of others is not my concern.’

  ‘No.’ K’ul Kelem said loudly. ‘I won’t allow it.’

  She moved to sit next to Lakam Pakal and put her arm over the old man’s shoulder, to reassure him that the fault was not completely his.

  ‘I stopped travelling because Hachakyum would always interfere. He would not let me suffer.’ The god’s hard eyes stared at her. ‘It’s not a thing I can ask him to stop. I am always grateful for his protection.’ The old man’s shoulders had slumped within her embrace but his head was twisted to look up at her. She felt a wave of remorse, knowing those eyes would be soon extinguished forever. She had thought she no longer felt the loss of individual people but she would mourn the death of the old man from the early days of her time with Hachakyum.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ she insisted. ‘You cannot be blamed for the thoughts of others. They choose to think and act. They chose to not believe your stories, or to not laugh them off as well told exaggerations from an excellent story teller.’ She had the urge to brush his grey hair from his lined face.

  Groups of people had gathered a short distance away.

  ‘I will take care of this myself,’ she said to Hachakyum as she stood. ‘I want you to promise to not interfere.’

  He said nothing.

  She strode to the largest group and waited until all of her people had gathered around.

  ‘What Lakam Pakal tells us is the truth. Angry people will come here after the rains. I will try to reason with them. I will convince them.’ She scanned every face. The
y were eager although frightened.

  ‘But,’ she said quietly. ‘We must prepare, we must be ready if I am not successful.’

  She had decided to fight.

  Chapter 15

  K’ul Kelem trained the younger men and women to aggressively use their hunting weapons, how to throw a spear accurately, to know their own effective killing range. She taught them to stand fearlessly before an attacking predator, until the animal was close enough that their spear throw would be accurate and deadly. She taught courage based on confidence.

  The rains stopped and a nervous wait began. Some hoped that Lakam Pakal had been delusional. They would easily forgive him if he had erred on the side of exaggerated warning.

  A month after they had begun waiting, K’ul Kelem received news that people had been seen heading south. The invading group moved slowly, hunting and foraging as they went. A subsequent report told K’ul Kelem there were hundreds of people on the journey, none were old and there were no children.

  The number of people was unprecedented. She hesitated, she doubted. She could lead her people away, she thought, they could find other foraging grounds. But the displacement of her own group would cause tensions elsewhere. And each group lived within their own ancestral lands, places that were familiar, places where their ancestors had lived and died. They were bound with place, where they lived was as much a part of them as any part of an individual’s body. They could not leave.

  One evening Hachakyum waited with K’ul Kelem, on elevated ground, as she scanned the land to the north. She worried. The invading people were many days away but she stared in that direction as if expecting their immanent arrival.

  ‘It’s not normal behaviour,’ he said. ‘Conflict is normal, anger is normal, revenge is normal. But this,’ he said. ‘This is organised and sustained. It has arisen quite early.’

  She turned to him. ‘Early?’ she asked.

  ‘In their development,’ he said.

  She looked away, again towards the north. ‘So this behaviour is expected?’

  ‘Yes. When people lose their connection to place, to their ancestors, to their stories, they’re lost. And when sentient beings are disorientated they start killing each other.’

  ‘That’s a sad thought,’ she said.

  ‘Not everyone wants to kill,’ he said. ‘But, there’s always enough of them that do. And the deaths are mostly among those who have caused no harm. They are the most hated.’

  ‘Are you like that?’ she asked him.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘And other people, those like you, are they the same?’

  ‘There aren’t many of us. Some act rashly although my people don’t kill each other,’ he said. ‘There’s more to be gained, for those that wish it, in embarrassment and anguish. Death is not an ongoing punishment.’

  She sighed. ‘Why should I bother?’ she asked.

  ‘Do you want me to stop it?’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. She stared at him willing him to speak but he didn’t. ‘I’ll resolve this. I cannot believe this is normal behaviour,’ she said. ‘Those people,’ she pointed to the north. ‘They must listen to reason. If I need to, I will, again, provide for all those people as well.’

  She looked away from him, again anxiously scanning the northern horizon. It was enough, she thought, that he listened.

  Chapter 16

  A few days later, a young man at the vanguard of the invading group, sent ahead to scout, was surprised, captured. He was brought to K’ul Kelem and Lakam Pakal.

  ‘I know this young man,’ Lakam Pakal said. ‘I told him stories when he was a child. Do you remember me?’ he asked.

  There was a sullen expression on the young man’s face.

  ‘Of course,’ he said bitterly. He expected to die. His face shaped into a sneer.

  ‘Kill me,’ the captive said. ‘There’s nothing I will do for you.’

  ‘We have no intention of killing you,’ K’ul Kelem said calmly. She smiled at him.

  ‘Then let me go,’ he laughed into her face.

  ‘We probably will,’ she said. Her ease unsettled the captured young man.

  Three days after letting the captive go, a group of twenty men and women approached K’ul Kelem’s campsite. They were arrayed for fighting, their faces and bodies adorned in ochre, in designs intended to make them look fierce. K’ul Kelem met them with a similar sized group of her own people.

  Twenty metres separated the two groups. They shouted, gesticulated and threatened with their weapons. Both sides made the motion of launching spears and throwing-sticks but no weapon flew from their hands. K’ul Kelem silently stood at the forefront as if presenting herself as a target.

  She lifted her arms out to the side, away from her body, with her hunting weapons in both her hands, she glanced behind her at her own people and then slowly lowered her body so that she sat on the ground. Reluctantly the rest of her people also sat.

  The invading group watched, as if the act of rest was a trick. Eventually, reluctantly, the opposing group also sat on the ground, led by a man who K’ul Kelem did not immediately recognise as the younger man who had burst into the settlement to the north. He was decades older.

  K’ul Kelem called across the distance between her and the man she knew. ‘This is only some of the people who have travelled with you,’ she said sternly. ‘Why are the others not here?’

  ‘I have seen your mother,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘Your appearance is close to hers.’

  K’ul Kelem’s face clouded. She had not thought of her mother in many years.

  ‘My mother did not know who I was,’ she said with anger. ‘Her appearance was not like mine. But that was a long time ago.’

  ‘Not so long ago for me,’ he said with a sneer. ‘I remember her among the old men and women. When she lived to the north, on our land.’

  ‘What do you want from us?’ K’ul Kelem asked curtly.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. The sneer remained on his face.

  ‘Nothing?’ she asked and held on tightly to her weapons, lifting them slightly above where they rested across her folded knees. ‘It is a long journey for no reason.’

  ‘There is a reason for our journey,’ he said. ‘But I want nothing from you,’ he said. ‘You will all be dead, so there is nothing you can give us.’ He laughed.

  K’ul Kelem stood and the man stood as well. She strode closer and stopped before him. She was vulnerable but the man was surprised and worried. There had to be a trick to such an unusual action. He took a step back so that he was surrounded by his people. They had also stood as if his wariness was contagious.

  ‘Is there nothing I can provide for you?’ she asked softly but her voice was strong and unfaltering. ‘Is there nothing I can do that will stop this?’ Her eyes left the man and fell across the rest of his people.

  ‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘What is there, in any case, that you can give that we cannot take?’

  ‘I provided for many people, from before the time when the old man you call Lakam Pakal was a boy, from the time when his first ancestor was re-made,’ she said. She saw the man’s face change wondering, momentarily, if the legends may be true.

  ‘I could do that again,’ she said. ‘If it would help,’ she said quietly.

  The other man heard weakness in her voice. He made as if to strike her, to frighten her.

  She grabbed his wrist as his hand flew towards her, ensnaring his arm in a vice-like grip. He struggled but his arm was immobile. She was much stronger than him and he was angry at his oversight.

  K’ul Kelem’s face filled with anger, as if she was preparing to kill him. She watched for his reaction but none came. He was willing to die for anger and revenge. She let his arm go, turned her back on the group of invaders and walked away.

  Her people followed her. Many walked backwards, anticipating thrown spears as the other group resumed their shouts and insults. K’ul Kelem did not look behind. Words had failed. A fight was
the only conclusion.

  She wondered how it had come to that.

  Chapter 17

  K’ul Kelem had no experience in a battle. No-one did. She was a skilled hunter. She had faced down large and strong predators, but people consumed with hatred did not react with the logic of a predator, who would withdraw in the face of injury. She had seen the hatred in the man from the north. He would not withdraw. He would sustain an attack even if his own life was threatened.

  She asked Lakam Pakal’s advice.

  ‘Will not Hachakyum help?’ Lakam Pakal asked. He had enjoyed the preparation for the fight as if it was a game of strategy and improvement. He savoured every moment of being once again useful. He had expected Hachakyum to step in, at the last minute.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘He will not interfere.’

  ‘No?’ Lakam Pakal did not believe her.

  She smiled at her old friend. ‘I do not expect you to fight,’ she said. ‘Your assistance in getting these people ready has been invaluable.’ She rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘I could not have done this without you.’

  She asked him his opinion on a battle strategy. Lakam Pakal thought for a moment.

  ‘I would align my people in an open area. On higher ground. Then we could run onto them and it will be easier to throw spears down at them. But,’ he said as if he disbelieved his own warning, as if it had been given by another. ‘Are you sure they will attack to kill us?’