Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky. David Bowles
stung me!”
“Ow!” cried the fifth one seated there.
“What, Peeling Scab?” asked the queen. “What is it?”
“Something stung me, Majesty!”
Then the sixth one was bitten.
“Ow!”
“What, Blood Gatherer?” asked Peeling Scab. “What is it?”
“Something stung me!”
And thus went mosquito to every dark lord, biting him or her to learn the face and name of each: Pus Demon, Jaundice Demon, Bone Scepter, Skull Scepter, Wing, Packstrap, Bloody Teeth, Bloody Claws.
Xbalanque and Hunahpu, meanwhile, had been approaching down the Green Road, the only one living beings should travel. As the mosquito heard the dark lords’ names, so did Hunahpu, who shared them with his twin.
Finally the brothers reached the council chamber.
“Greet the King and Queen of Death, seated here before you,” the dark lords commanded.
“Uh, no. Those aren’t the king and queen. They’re just statues,” said the twins. They turned to the rest and greeted them by name.
| “Morning, King of Death. | Morning, Queen of Death. |
| Morning, Peeling Scab. | Morning, Blood Gatherer. |
| Morning, Pus Demon. | Morning, Jaundice Demon. |
| Morning, Bone Scepter. | Morning, Skull Scepter. |
| Morning, Wing. | Morning, Packstrap. |
| Morning, Bloody Teeth. | Morning, Bloody Claws.” |
And the dark lords were taken quite by surprise.
“Greetings to you, as well. Have a seat on that bench,” directed the king.
The twins were not defeated by this ruse. “Uh, that’s no bench, Your Majesty,” Xbalanque replied. “It’s just a heated stone.”
“Well done. Your journey has been long. You require rest before our game. You may enter yonder house now.”
The brothers headed toward Darkness House, the first of the torments in the Realm of Fright. The dark lords felt certain that these two would be defeated there, so they sent a messenger with a torch and two cigars.
“Take these and light them,” he instructed. “Our king bids you bring them back to him in the morning, intact.”
“Will do!” the twins replied. But they did not light the torch. Instead they substituted consuming flame with the tail feather of a macaw that shimmered with magic. The night sentries saw it and believed the torch lit. In the same fashion the brothers called fireflies and set them dancing at the tips of their cigars. So Darkness House was aglow all night long.
“We have beaten them!” exulted the sentries.
Yet in the morning, when the brothers went before the council, the torch had no mark of fire and the cigars were whole. Then the lords consulted together:
“What sort of beings are they? Whence did they come? Who sired them? Who gave them birth? Our hearts are deeply troubled, for they will do no good unto us. Their appearance, their very essence, is wholly unique.”
The king and queen confronted Hunahpu and Xbalanque. “Tell us, truly—whence do you come?”
“Well, we must’ve come from somewhere, but we just don’t know.” They would say nothing more.
“Very well. Let us go play ball, boys.”
“Great.”
They arrived at the ball court of the Underworld. “So, then, we will use this rubber ball of ours,” said the dark lords.
“No, let’s use ours.”
“Not at all. We will use ours.”
The twins shrugged. “Fine.”
“The ball is just embossed with an image,” clarified the dark lords.
“No, it’s pretty clearly a real skull,” the brothers countered.
“It is not.”
“Sure. If you say so,” said Hunahpu.
The dark lords hurled the ball at Hunahpu’s yoke. He batted it away with a twist of his hips. The ball struck the ground and burst open, sending the bone-white dagger of sacrifice spinning around the ball court, threatening death.
“What’s this?” shouted the brothers. “So that’s why you sent a messenger to summon us: you want to kill us! What do you take us for? We’re leaving!”
And indeed, that had been the dark lords’ plan: for the twins to be killed right then, defeated by the blade. Hunahpu and Xbalanque had once again frustrated their design.
“Do not leave, boys. Let us continue the game, using your ball instead.”
“In that case, alright,” the brothers agreed, dropping their fathers’ rubber ball onto the court.
“Let us discuss prizes,” said the dark lords. “What will we receive if we win?”
“Whatever you want.”
“We request merely four bowls of flowers.”
The boys nodded. “Okay, but what sorts of flowers?”
“A bowlful of red petals, one of white petals, one of yellow petals, and one of the large petals.”
“Done.”
The game began. The strength of both teams was equal, but the boys made many plays, for their hearts were full of goodness. In the end, though, the twins allowed themselves to be beaten. The dark lords reveled in their defeat.
“We have done very well. We vanquished them on the first attempt. Now, even if they survive the next torment, where will they go to pluck our flowers?”
Since the only possibility was the garden of the King and Queen of Death, the council instructed the feathered guardians of those royal flowers:
“Keep a diligent watch over these blossoms. Do not permit them to be stolen, for they are the tool for the boys’ defeat. Think what would happen were they able to obtain these as our prize! Do not sleep tonight.”
Returning to Hunahpu and Xbalanque, the council reminded them of the agreement. “You will give us our prize of petals early in the morning.”
“Sounds good. First thing in the morning, we’ll play again.”
Then the brothers reviewed their plans together until they were sent into Blade House, the second trial of the Realm of Fright. Inside, blades spun through the air constantly, and the hope was that the twins would quickly be sliced to ribbons. But they did not die. Instead, they called out to the blades, instructing them in this way:
“Be still and the flesh of animals is yours forever.”
The blades stopped spinning. One by one they lowered their points to the ground.
As the brothers rested in the Blade House that night, they called to the ants:
“Cutting ants, conquering ants, come! Go fetch us flower petals as prizes for the dark lords.”
The ants marched down to the garden of the King and Queen of Death and began swarming over the flowers, but the winged guardians did not notice a thing. Out of sheer boredom, the birds perched in the branches and squawked or ambled through the garden repeating their song:
“Whip-poor-will!