Lives of Kings (4 page)

Ari seemed to notice our ages for the first time. “Are you here with your parents?”

“Yes,” Seth said.

Ari waited for more, but Seth had nothing.

“Okay,” the man continued, still looking us over dubiously. “Just remember, no cameras. You must show respect. We leave at dawn tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Garrison assured him. “Like I said, we're curious about your culture. We want to know what … the priest … may say.”

Ari left, still casting curious glances at us, no doubt trying to figure out what was so wrong with us that we would ask to see a witch doctor. Garrison, totally oblivious and always one for adventure, just gave us the thumbs-up with a wide grin.

He sat down next to me on my lounger, taking my drink from my hand.

“You guys could look a little bit more excited,” he said. “Who gets the opportunity to do this kind of stuff?”

He was right, but it all came with a price. I had no idea what waited for me in my memories, and at the same time I was trying to keep my expectations in check since there could simply be nothing to find in the jungle.

“What if there are just more terrible things?” I asked him. “It seems like painful memories are all there was.”

Well, almost. My memories of Seth before losing him had initially given me hope and pushed me to look for him with Kian. The complications around whom I was meant to be with had turned those memories sour.

“Well, I for one feel like I've seen all the terrible things there could be,” Garrison said, looking out to the ocean.

I suddenly felt like an idiot. I knew his past was by far the most painful, and I had been insensitive. Having only remembered his life as a soldier in a tribal garrison, he had asked his parents to call him that at a young age.

Garrison remembered his past life's family being killed by rival tribes and hadn't known anything else until we remembered our own battles as adults.

“I have to believe there must be something good back there,” he said. “Don't you want to know what you made the sacrifice for? If there's anything on this planet that will help me remember and then make me strong enough to get those bastards once and for all, I'm up for it.”

We were all sweating more than I had ever believed anyone could sweat within only minutes of entering the jungle. The humidity was suffocating. Though I was still questioning Garrison's judgment in bringing us here, at least my belief that this was all a tourist attraction was fading with each step. Tourists would have to be crazy to do this.

The jungle rose and fell every few metres and made the hike exhausting. I watched my feet obsessively as vines, roots, and loose stones threatened to knock me off balance. There was more pure green here than I had ever seen in my life. The sounds of wildlife filled the air, and for the first little while, I was so focused on memorizing this crazy experience that I didn't notice all the bites I was getting from various sub-tropical insects.

There was a shuffle behind me and I turned to find Moira had slipped. A burly guide who didn't look happy at all to be trekking with us caught her with lightning-quick reflexes, grabbing her elbow in what seemed a painful grip.

“You okay?” Garrison called from ahead.

“Yes,” Moira said, biting her lip. A thin line of blood trickled down her leg where her foot had slid in between two unstable rocks. “I'm okay,” she emphasized, seeing me look. She waved me forward in a shooing motion.

I carefully avoided disaster myself when I nearly slipped on wet and mossy rocks and then almost rolled my ankle stepping on a vine. Seth did one faceplant during our journey, cutting his forearms, while Garrison happily kept up with the experienced guide, using his long legs to take bigger and more carefully thought-out steps.

After about two hours of hiking, we stopped for a break. We had been consistently making our way uphill, and everyone was panting. Ari took our water bottles and began to fill them with water that ran off some stones.

“This water pools at the top of the mountain and flows down to the villages,” he explained. “The higher a village is, the more pure it is.”

I didn't have time to worry about all the living things in my water. When he handed me my bottle, I drank.

Ari spoke in a different language to two other men. They motioned toward the clouds, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere else. The weather looked fine to me, but I understood now why we needed to leave in the early morning. It was important to get back before dark — making our way home after nightfall would be impossible. And in a place where even the fish and insects were carnivorous, I didn't want to find out what was lurking.

“They don't look too happy, do they?” Garrison said quietly. He had tied a sock around his forehead like a sweatband, and it looked ridiculous but effective. “You like the look?” he asked when he saw me looking.

“Love it,” I replied. “Still think this is a good idea?” Garrison looked exhausted.

“Given that we're here already, that doesn't really matter,” he said. Which meant no. Great.

When Ari returned, he also wore a worried look.

“What's the matter?” asked Seth.

The man, only slightly older than us, was wringing his hands. “The guides,” he explained, gesturing, “They don't want to go forward from here. They say the priest curses the healthy and heals the sick.”

Garrison's eyebrows shot up. “As wonderful as that makes me feel about paying him a visit,” he said, “we have an agreement.”

Ari shifted from foot to foot.

“Haven't you ever brought anyone here?” I asked him. “I thought you were a tour guide, like from the hotel pamphlet.”

I turned accusingly to Garrison. Where had he found this guy? Ari looked guilty while Garrison began to whistle in mock innocence. Guilt wasn't in his nature.

“I asked around,” he told me. “There were only a few
real
witch doctors on the island, and this guy volunteered.”

“We will wait for you here,” Ari told us quickly. “The doctor is only another forty minutes hike directly north on this path.”

There was no other way around it. If we wanted to do this today, we'd have to go on our own. Leaving the only three people who knew how to travel through the jungle behind us, we took our packs and headed up the mountain.

“This screams bad idea,” Moira muttered.

For once we agreed on something. But at least we weren't wondering for long if we were going the right way. In half an hour, Seth screamed when he pulled back some branches and came face to face with a skull.

More skulls and skeletons beyond that first one didn't help to put us at ease. Moira was nearly in tears as all of the skulls and chalky symbols culminated in one sign at the end. It was in French. As the only one who could understand even a little French, she read it in a shaky voice.

“What does it mean?” Seth asked.

“I think it says something along the lines of, ‘Leave your brothers behind,'” she said.

“Wonderful.”

Despite everything telling us not to, and only Garrison urging us forward, we continued. After another few minutes, a rattling alerted us to someone else's presence. Humming followed the noise. We stopped and waited.

The man or woman under the costume seemed underwhelming. When he or she appeared, they were wearing a wig of straw and thick paint around his or her eyes. The small man or woman looked like leather — his or her skin was taut and darkened by the sun. I couldn't even begin to guess the age of the small person approaching me. It could have been anywhere from fifty to a hundred and twenty. The man or woman was compulsively shaking a rattle by their side.

The doctor carefully approached us. I noticed that the sounds of the jungle had died down. The trees were quiet. The birds had gone somewhere else. It was an eerie environment and we all stood rooted to the spot as the man or woman neared. He or she peered into each of our faces, pausing for an uncomfortably long time at Seth.

I felt myself buzzing with anticipation. I was ready to move if anything happened. As we stood together — four supposedly powerful people — I couldn't help but feel very vulnerable. After what seemed like ages we were invited through a series of gestures into a small grass hut we hadn't even noticed. At least I think we were invited. The witch doctor, priest, or whatever it was, waved for us to follow, and we did.

Inside, a strong smell of mint and vanilla hit me. It made its way into my head as if cutting straight through my skull. I suddenly felt more alive. I saw my friends' eyes widen as they followed me in.

“That'll wake you up,” Garrison remarked.

When I inhaled, it was cold on my throat.

The hut wasn't tall enough for any of us to stand straight, and even the small man or woman, who was only about five feet tall, had to crouch. We awkwardly bumped along until we sat on a natural ridge — probably a fallen trunk or something.

The loose items lying around looked old and worn. Utensils, hats, and buckets littered the floor. Smoke rose from a small fire and escaped out through a hole in the ceiling. The hut was woven together with leaves from the trees around. It was intricate and skilful work.

The witch doctor took a seat across from us and stared into our faces. I sat between Seth and Garrison and took the opportunity to squeeze Garrison's knee quite hard, reminding him this was his idea.

When the small person opened its mouth, a more familiar language came out than I was expecting. He or she spoke French, and we all turned to Moira, but within seconds she was shaking her head, completely lost.

“
Lentement
,” she asked pleadingly. I knew the word for slowly. It was the same in Spanish. I had tried to learn in school, but if Moira's French was on par with my Spanish, we were in trouble.

The witch doctor went on, breaking words with what seemed like clucking. The voice was too high to be a man, so I decided it was a woman.

“Something about … butter,” Moira said after a few moments.

“Butter?” Seth asked skeptically.

“No, wait.” Moira squinted at the woman as if that would help her language skills. “Fear.”

I couldn't imagine how the two would go together. Suddenly the very small and leathery woman stood and stuck out a pointed finger at Moira. We all sat back in surprise.

“Ow,” Moira complained as the woman stabbed a finger into her chest. “Stop that!”

She swatted lightly so as not to break the frail witch doctor's arm. Still, the woman vigorously stabbed on as if accusing her of something. Then she turned and said something to the rest of us, which we of course didn't understand. I was starting to think this whole trip was a little useless.

She went to a brewing pot, where something the colour of sickly mucus was steaming. Immediately, I didn't like where this was going. I knew this was meant to be ingested, and my stomach turned at the thought.

I think my friends had the same idea since we all exchanged worried glances.

Sure enough, the woman hobbled around, hunched over, took out empty shells, and used them as cups to dip into the liquid. It ran over her hands, still steaming, but she didn't seem to notice. She thrust the makeshift cups into our hesitant hands and sat on a low wooden stool, waiting.

Everyone turned to Garrison. I wanted to see him take the first sip. He smelled the liquid and recoiled, but then shrugged, plugged his noise, and drank everything from the little shell.

I thought briefly about how we had come so far and escaped so much danger just to be poisoned by a little old woman in the jungle.

Garrison seemed to be okay, so Seth and Moira followed, with me being the last to drink out of my small cup. Though I had plugged my nose, the disgusting taste stayed in my mouth. It was like a mixture of earth, grime, and some kind of oil. My heart sped up, waiting for something magical to happen. The woman made herself busy, weaving a basket together from her low stool, humming to herself as if forgetting we were there.

A few minutes passed. We all sat around waiting, nervous and expectant. I slowly began to feel very silly for actually thinking any of this would work. A witch doctor surrounded by predictable paraphernalia in a jungle filled with tourists could not help us with our magic. And who knew what she thought we were there for? We hadn't even said anything about it. Maybe she thought we were lost. Or had a case of traveller's diarrhea. Communication was a problem.

I stood. “This isn't working.”

The witch doctor didn't even look up at me. Her humming was starting to annoy me. It seemed louder than before. The humidity was itchy, and being so hot was making me cranky.

I looked to my friends. It had been ten minutes since the woman was yelling at Moira and stabbing her in the chest. Now Moira didn't look so great. She was still sitting, waiting for something to happen, but her long, dark hair was soaked with sweat and she looked considerably paler. In fact, so did Seth and Garrison.