Mist and Shadows

Author’s Note:

This short story originated many years ago as part of a world building project, one of the mythological stories of one group of people. Years later I found it again and adapted it to my current project and a new people.

Background Note:

Cahuac and the Sun is part of the Cahuac Cycle, the most important mythological story of the Aracan. It tells the story of the ancestor-hero Cahuac and his travels and deeds. His fight with the Sun is the most well known tale of the Cycle.

The Cycle itself is very old, having been present for thousands of years, passed down, adapted and changed over the years. New elements have appeared and old elements have been dropped, though the tale of his battle with the Sun has remained central to the Cycle the entire time.

Most tellings of the tale have it take place somewhere between the Aracan transition between the Age of Stone and the Age of Bronze, which makes the tale very old.

All the Aracan tribes claim Cahuac as their own, and there are many variations of the tales that serve to reinforce their claims to Cahuac. Some tales are unique to one or two tribes, while others, such as Cahauc and the Sun, are universal to all tribes.

Cahauc and the Sun

Hear, O children, hear of the days when the world was yet still young and shadows still stalked the People.

In those earliest times, the earliest we know, in the past so distant that numbers can not count the passing of the seasons, the People dwelt as one.

Mighty hunters were they that feared not the shadows. Mightiest of all was great Cahuac, of the people yet not born to the People, for he was gifted to us by the fairest maiden of the Sky-Plain, She of the Silver Moon.

As a child he was gifted to us and in time he grew tall and strong, mighty and fair to behold, the splendour of the moon upon his brows, his voice like unto soft music that drifted through the night should he wish, or the rolling thunder, booming across the plains. In all things he was most skilled, yet he turned not to pride, for all he did was for the People.

In his youth Cahuac had quested at the behest of his mother, She of the Silver Moon. From shadows in the dark places he wrested weapons of great power. Many were his deeds and long were his journeys, yet these are stories for another day.

In those days the Sun followed not his set course across the Sky-Plains, for he travelled where he willed, a mighty hunter in pursuit of the Animal-Spirits, or questing for the Lady Moon, for his desire for her was great. Where he lingered on his journeys the lands were burned and where he shunned, the lands were frozen.

In the course of his travels, the Sun passed beyond the mountains to the lands beyond and there it lingered for it found the lands their pleasing. Darkness swept across the plains and the sky dimmed; colours too faded. A chill settled over the plains and all the people suffer, crying out loudly in their despair.

Cahuac though alone did not know fear, despite the cold, despite the chill, and he vowed that he would seek for the Sun and return it to the People.

“People of the Aracan,” Cahuac cried out, “My brothers and sisters, despair not. Though the Sun has passed from these lands and left us with but the dark and the cold in which the shadows dwell, I shall seek for him and return him to these lands.” The People were left in wonder at Cahauc’s words, and praised him loudly, though their hearts were heavy for the fear that he would succeed not and be lost to them.

Then the people bid their farewells to Cahuac and to each other. Men and women, young and old, even the dogs of the camps lay down upon the cold earth and all was still and silent as they waited, as if dead already.

Cahuac took up the weapons he had wrested from the shadows in dark places. A spear he carried, and a knife, set with blades of deadly bright bronze, the haft of the spear of dark wood that burned not nor could it be broken.

Fleet of foot Cahuac set forth, hunting the Sun as he had hunted the wild beast of the plains. Forsaking food, forsaking water, he sought high and low. There was no place that could escape his bright-eyed gaze.

Yet even Cahuac, mightiest of us all, was not without limited. The seeping cold and darkness rested heavy upon him and he wearied in his search for the Sun. The cold earth offered it self up and Cahuac rested upon it. And dreams came upon his moon-graced brows.

In his dreams there was not but the plains, endless and forever, yet the Sun was not to be seen. It came to his mind that the Sun must lay behind sight, and that the only way forward was to ascend to a great height to attract the attention of the Sun.

Across the plains were scattered many rocks, and these Cahauc gathered up. Strength renewed with purpose he piled them atop each other in the darkness until they reached the very roof of the sky.

As the last rock was laid upon the pile, Cahuac awoke and behold before him the mountain of his dreams. Thus was born Tatochec, the Pillar of the Sky, made by the moon-graced hand of Cahuac.

To ascend the Pillar is a trip fraught with peril, yet Cahuac did so in the dark, scaling its frozen heights. Despite cold, despite dark he climbed ever onwards, ever upwards. Cold bit at him and edges tore at hands and feet that he could no longer see or feel.

Yet the journey came to its end, and finally moon-graced Cahuac stop atop Tatochec. Casting his bright-eyed gaze forth he saw the frozen suffering people lying still as death, yet also he saw beyond the distant mountains the lingering light of the Sun.

With voice like thunder that boomed he cried out. “Sun, come to me!”

Yet the Sun ignored him.

Again thunder cracked loudly as he shouted. “Sun, I, Cahuac, bid you come!”

Yet the Sun ignored him.

Then with voice as soft as music that he sung out, “Sun, the people need you. Come!”

And the Sun was intrigued, and came to where Cahuac stood atop Tatochec that reached to the sky. Light and warmth spread across the plains and the people cried for joy, for their suffering was at an end.

With a voice like the all consuming fires, the sun Spoke. “Why have you bid me come, Cahuac of the Aracan? Why bid me come from the place I enjoy to these cold lands?”

“The People suffered, O Sun,” noble Cahuac replied, “For you had gone far beyond these lands and left not but darkness. Across the Sky-Plains you must hunt for the benefit of all, or pass on your power to another who will.”

And the Sun refused, his laughter washing over Cahuac like flames across the plains, yet Cahuac flinched not.

Hefting his spear of deadly bright bronze, Cahuac launched it at the sun, striking him full upon the chest. Blood like fire sprayed forth, soaking both spear and Cahuac, yet he cried out not.

Taking forth his knife of deadly bright bronze, Cahuac again smote the Sun, who cried out as yet more blood flowed forth, split across Tatochec. Then with a roar, the burning-eyed Sun turned upon Cahuac, the Hunter of the Sky-Plains against the Child of the Lady Moon. Their clash was long and the ground shook as they smote upon each other. Visible across the plains was the flaring of the Sun’s fury, and the bellow of Cahuac’s thundering voice spread to the corners of all lands. And all who beheld it cowered in terror, for it was as if the world was being torn asunder.

Yet not even Cahuac, mightiest of us all, can best the burning-eyed Sun. At the end Cahuac, exhausted and battered lay defeated at the feet of the Sun. Yet the Sun did not strike him down. A veil of darkness passed before Cahuac’s eyes and he fell into a swoom, lying as one dead. He was not dead though for the mighty Chief of the Sky-Plains, the ever-burning Sun raised him up and the veil fell from his eyes.

“By your deeds and courage, Cahuac of the Aracan, I shall honour your request,” the burning-eyed Sun told him. “I shall travel the ordered path of the Sky-Plains, and rest here each night in honour of your bravery. Yet none shall come here alive, for my blood would burn and consume them if they dare to step foot atop sacred Tatochec. You though, shall be ever after marked by my blood, in remembrance of this battle. Go now, and peace be upon you in your long weariness.”

“Sun,” Cahuac replied, voice melodious, yet ringing with power, “I do not regret what comes to me from this, for I have done it for not just my people, but for all the People.”

Then taking his weapons, now shining from the blood of the Sun, imbued with power, Cahuac, mighty, brave Cahuac strode down from the Tatochec and towards the people. Many were his deeds and long were his journeys.