Under the Moon of Taxoxcia
Chapter 2

Version Beta-3

By Tom J. Hyde

Bethi Logan stared around her, the beam of the flashlight sparkling with dust as she passed through the first gate of the Wall of the Beloved. Thomas moved slowly behind her, his own light darting along the walls.

“Looks like tapestry rods,” he commented, illuminating a metallic rod that ran the course of the tunnel. He glanced down, but nothing remained of the original fabrics that once hung there. “Though it’s strange that there’s actually metal here.”

“They’re more advanced that we originally thought,” she said. “I was expecting worn rocks and maybe an idol or two, but this entire area seems wonderfully preserved.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Thomas stated. “Jungles are quick to reclaim lost terrain, especially over hundreds of years.”

He felt a strange prickle on his neck and the sense of being watched once again washed over him. He glanced behind him, his hand sliding to the machete on his belt.

“I’ve never seen you so jumpy.”

“It’s this place.” His muffled voice barely echoed through the tunnel. “I don’t know why, but it feels…strange.”

Before Bethi could respond, they exited the tunnel and stepped into a main thoroughfare beyond the Wall of the Beloved. The twilight was deeper now, as the last rays of sun faded. Yet as they looked around, Thomas realized a full moon was probably rising from the shift in the color spectrum coming through the canopy.

Both of them found they could see in strange mixture of light from the dying sun and the rising moon. Another curving wall stood about thirty feet in front of them. But what was more interesting was the series of one-story buildings that dotted the section between the outer wall and the next inner wall. The two archeologists moved closer for a better look, shining their lights upon the rough stone surfaces.

Bethi’s light flashed and she found metallic braces against the corners of the closest building. “It looks like they were originally built from stone using indigenous materials, then shored up some time later with these metal supports.”

The man studied the bracings, “They’ve barely rusted. It almost looks like steel.”

“You’re kidding,” Bethi said, joining him.

“Look at it! It’s definitely a composite metal.”

“These people were supposed to be primitive. First, how did they get the ore, then how did they learn to mix the metals?”

“Maybe they found some lost traveler who taught them,” he suggested. It sounded like a pitiful explanation even to his ears.

“Really?” she said, raising her eyebrows in the dim light.

Spreading his hands, he told her, “I don’t know. That’s why we’re here! To find out.”

They moved from the brace and found a thick wooden door into the structure. Thomas gave it an experimental pull and was startled when it swung away cleanly. He stepped inside and ran a flashlight along the interior.

“What do you see?”

“A rather cozy little house,” he muttered. “And still in perfect condition.”

He stood inside a small living area with a large wooden table in the center of the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs. In one corner, there were a series of countertops that looked to be akin to a primitive kitchen, complete with a small mud oven under a series of slats in the ceiling for ventilation. The room was lined with thick tapestries of fantastical images. They studied the pictures in awe, fascinated by the ancient depictions of mysterious alpine forests, tropical islands and grassy plains.

An open doorway lead into a large chamber where an enormous straw-filled mattress still lay, looking as if it was just waiting for its owners to come home. It was even furnished with plush bedding, far beyond what the people here should have been able to produce.

“This wood shouldn’t be like this.” Bethi knocked a hand against the table in the living area as Thomas explored the bedroom. “Five hundred years in a rainforest should have eaten away this. Heck, fifty years would do more weathering than this. And these tapestries…”

“It’s almost as if they just stepped out,” he muttered, stepping back into the other room and flashing a light over Bethi. “I’ve never seen a site like this before.”

“What’s that?” she said, pointing at a corner behind him. He turned to see another pair of yellow eyes staring back at him. The flashlights revealed a small idol, in the shape of another Foxfolk female. She sat in a meditative pose that reminded Thomas of Bethi’s yearlong experiment in yoga.

“Probably a household god,” Thomas commented after examining it. “After all, look at the small altar they created for it.”

He placed it back upon the stone pedestal, lined with thin sheets of shining metal. It was carven with the utmost care, yet still seemed plain, as if the designer didn’t want to detract from what lay on the top.

“Those eyes are creepy,” she said. “What’s causing that glow?”

“Probably a luminous gemstone. It’s polished so well that it picks up almost any light in the area.”

“I’m not so sure,” Bethi said as she knelt and stared into the eyes. “It’s almost as if they’re…”

She trailed off.

“As if they’re what?” Thomas asked. When she didn’t respond, he prodded her shoulder and she jumped a little.

“What?” She shook her head. “What were you saying?”

“You okay?” He helped her to her feet.

“Yeah, of course,” she said dismissively, but not without a glance back at the idol. “Just kind of wandered off a little. Been a long day.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m fine, Tom.” She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re cute when you get all worried over me.”

He rubbed the spot where she kissed him and smiled. “Maybe we should stay here for the night. It’s getting late.”

“Come on! Do you really feel tired?”

When he thought about it, he realized that he wasn’t weary in the slightest. In fact, he felt more energized than he had in weeks. Chalking it up to the simple thrill of discovery, he shook his head.

“Then let’s go!” she said, clapping her hands in excitement. “The journal entries told us that there would be archival shrines past the next wall.”

They decided to skip exploring the other buildings in the area and move on to the next teardrop-shaped opening. Once again, the gateway was in pieces when they arrived and the two found their way completely unhindered.

Bethi began to continue inside, but Thomas held her up for a moment when he knelt down and retrieved a hunk of wood from the remains of the gate.

“We should conserve the flashlights. We might need them later.”

Bethi nodded and watched Thomas wrap some extra bandages around the stick. He soaked one end briefly in a small reserve of lantern oil and held a match to the makeshift torch. It exploded into flame, flooding the area with crisp red light.

Thomas’s eyes darted among the shadows, looking for anything startled by the sudden light. When Bethi noticed, she asked him what he was doing.

“Just being paranoid.” He smiled, doing his best to hide his anxiety. His wife just sighed and passed under the gateway.

“This should be the Wall of the Adored,” she whispered as they walked through another tunnel, Thomas keeping pace her side. “Do you remember how many walls there were?”

“Three, I think. Beloved, Adored and Eternal.”

Beyond the next gateway lay a large courtyard. Thomas held the torch high, but the light didn’t go very far. Like before, silhouettes of buildings loomed out of the night and they could see the faint shadow of the next wall across the expanse. Scrub grass and broken stones lay at their feet, forcing them to watch their step.

“Let’s go.” Thomas’s voice was wary. “I don’t like being exposed like this.”

He moved forward in the direction of the next wall, at least two hundred feet away, but Bethi didn’t follow him. He stopped after a moment and turned to face her. She was looking to the right, staring at a softly glowing green orb at the apex of an arched building.

“No, we need to go in there,” she whispered. The light from the luminescent sphere reflected in her eyes.

“Why?”

Her grin returned after a moment and she turned to him, the strange reflection gone. “Call it a gut feeling. Just look at the building. It’s obviously important. It’s probably the primary shrine.”

Thomas moved closer, allowing the light to wash over the structure. Arching wooden planks rose from the ground to a steeple about thirty feet high. The orb was built into the face of the building, glowing just like the eyes of the statue outside and the idol they discovered.

“Fine,” Thomas conceded. “But no matter what, we should get some sleep afterwards.”

She slipped up beside him and gave him a light squeeze on the behind. He jumped and stared at her smirk. “Feeling like having a little fun with the wife in an abandoned ruin?”

“Not at the moment,” he muttered. “Because this isn’t like any ruin I’ve ever seen. The only ruined parts are the gates.”

“Spoilsport. Sounds like the perfect evening to me. Discovery and passion in a forgotten part of the darkest jungles.”

“Sounds like a bad romance novel.”

“Or a really good one,” she quipped, then sauntered off to the oval doorway in the orb building. He shook his head in exasperation. She loved to tease him during night excavations.

“Come on Tom!” she called. “Bring the torch! I want to see what’s inside.”

By the time he reached the entrance, she was already within, peeking around with her flashlight. He brought in the torch and the massive room burst into view.

“It is a shrine!” she said, her excitement practically bubbling. “Shine some light on these tablets!”

On the walls of the chamber hung same kind of tapestries they found in the home in the previous section, but they depicted the Foxfolk staring down benevolently at masses of humans. A dozen pedestals stretched out before the two archeologists, each of them with two carved stone tablets upon them. Thomas approached the first one, which Bethi was already studying intently. The language was vaguely familiar to Thomas, though he couldn’t quite place it.

“It looks like an odd variant of Malagasy,” Bethi said, squinting at the dusty text. She took out her detailing brush and swept it over the chiseled letters. “I’m still a little rusty, but I think I can read most of it.”

The female archeologist began to mouth the words to herself. She frowned momentarily then looked toward the back of the chamber, her eyes sparkling with keen interest. Thomas held the torch up a bit higher to illuminate the back wall, only to be startled by another pair of glimmering yellow eyes.

Another statue of a Foxfolk stood over a large marble-like display of four tablets. It was yet another female, but this one’s posture had her arms wide as if waiting for a gentle embrace. The tablets beneath the statue were different from the others, as the script didn’t appear to be chiseled out of the rock. It had graceful curves and lines as if it had been handwritten upon the stone. Thomas had never seen anything quite like it before.

“’Let those who follow know the story of we who dwelt beneath the moon of Taxoxcia.’” she recited in that odd monotone voice she always used when translating. “’For many seasons, we made war upon one another across the great island. But when the greatest shaman sought the spirits help to end the reign of death…’”

After she paused for a few moments, Thomas asked, “What is it?”

“I don’t believe it.” A smile sprouted upon her lips as the torch crackled in the silence.

“Come on, what?”

“Listen to this: ‘The spirits told the shaman that they could not turn the hearts of the people. But if he allowed one of them to manifest in him, death’s march would stop.’”

“Manifest?” Thomas muttered. “Sounds like a channeling ceremony. So what? Dozens of cultures have something similar, where one person will be the voice for the gods or spirits.”

“Let me finish first, then tell me what you think,” Bethi responded. “‘The shaman did as the spirits asked and offered his body to one of their number. With those who followed him, the shaman entered Chamber of Red and conducted the Rite of the Tail.’”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Sush!” Bethi admonished. “’And the shaman was filled with the power of the spirits, becoming the First we revere this day. The spirits honored his sacrifice by enhancing all things noble within him, forging his spirit anew. The First rewarded those who served the shaman with honor. When the destroyers came and saw the power of the First, they fell down before her and swore themselves to her side.’”

“Wait a second, are you sure about the pronouns?” Thomas said.

“One hundred percent certain,” she said, staring into his eyes. “According to the text, the shaman was definitely male. But this First was a female.”

“So they just treated him like a woman after the Rite.”

“No!” Bethi proclaimed. “The text is very specific. During this Rite, the shaman switched genders. And from the context, I would surmise the shaman actually became one of the female Foxfolk!”