It was unusually quiet in the Cloud Forest. This silence did not favor Hunahpu and Xbalanque, who embarked that morning, as they did most mornings, to hunt for birds to feed their family. Without the usual chatter of monkeys to cloak their footsteps, the twin brothers felt their every step ripple like an earthquake through the Quiche highlands, evacuating their prey.
Artist: Narendra Adi
By noon, the twins had not caught a single bird. Taking a break from the hunt, they stopped in a clearing to play the Sacred Game. Ever since they had discovered a hidden stash of their late father’s gaming equipment, the twins had grown obsessed with the game, using every spare moment to perfect their ball control. Gathering flexible branches and vines, they fashioned a nearly circular ring and affixed it to a tree.
Hunahpu gazed at the ball, holding it still on his right knee.
“Steady!” advised Xbalanque. “Keep it off the ground! As if your life depends on it!” He watched his brother pick up speed as he juggled the ball from hip, to shoulder, to knee. “Now shoot!”
Hunahpu connected his right knee to the ball, launching it toward the ring at Xbalanque. With a loud crack, the ball broke the makeshift ring and crashed into Xbalanque, knocking the wind out of him. Hunahpu rushed over and collapsed onto the forest floor with his twin, laughing.
“Well, if we haven’t scared all the birds away by now…” gasped Xbalanque, grinning.
“I doomed our dinner, didn’t I?” Hunahpu’s smile quickly turned to frustration. “Our dinner,
I say. As if our family ever leaves enough food for us.”
The twins sat for a moment in silence, their stomachs growling. Xmucane, their grandmother, and their artisan half-brothers, Hun Batz and Hun Chouen, only kept the twins around to feed them. What wrath would await the twins if they returned home without prey in their packs?
Artist: Billy Christian
Hunahpu and Xbalanque were not sulking long before a creature emerged before them. The twins took in the creature, strange and unfamiliar to the Cloud Forest, who sported four clawed paws, glowing red eyes, and immense upright ears.
“Hunahpu and Xbalanque,” the creature said, his long-snouted smirk interrupted by the gleam of sharp fangs. “I have been searching far and wide for heroes like you, with powers too great for their own people. Join my army. We will harness the power of the Ikorr not for a god, or for a king… but for the world.”
“I guess it wasn’t your hideous face that scared the beasts from the forest today,” Hunahpu whispered to his brother. “What is that?”
“A freaky coyote of sorts. But how does it know our names?” Xbalanque whispered, barely moving his lips.
“You think I can’t hear you?” said the beast. “Just look at the size of my jackal ears. You joke, but I can hear your hearts fluttering. I have heard much of you, Hunahpu and
Xbalanque. How your father played the game.” The jackal flattened their rubber ball with his mighty paw. “How he and your uncle were murdered in Xibalba. How your mother escaped the underworld. How your grandmother reluctantly took her in. How your jealous half-brothers tried to kill you when you were infants. How your family fills their bellies, rarely affording you scraps of the food you provide. I can offer you so much mo—”
“Hey, jackal!” interrupted Hunahpu. He gripped his blowgun and puffed out his chest. “That was our father’s ball! And we’ve had enough of this stalker-babble! Identify yourself!”
“Or what, Hunahpu? You’ll shoot me?” The jackal laughed. “Your weapons will not pierce my fur.” In a flash of golden light, the creature’s furry legs transformed into tanned muscular human limbs, he stood, now towering above the twins. Only the face of the jackal creature remained.
Artist: Mark Poole
“I am Seth, God of Chaos, of the Strange, of the Foreigner,” the creature said. “I do realize that I am the foreigner here, trespassing in your hunting grounds. But am I the stranger, really? Would a stranger have heard of your fate? Or try to save you from it? There are far greater plans for you outside of these highlands.”
“Seth, with whatever respect your people might normally afford you, we don’t need you to save us. You’ve heard our story, you know what we are capable of. Let fate come for us,” said Xbalanque, turning to leave.
“Is it worth losing your brother?” Seth called after the twins. They stopped in their tracks. “You cannot stay here,” he continued, his patience dwindling. “You want to end up like your father, dying for a ball game? Be my guest. As for which of you will keep their head attached to their body, I’ll leave that for you to guess.”
“You lie!” shouted Hunahpu. “It was the gods’ treachery that killed our father! We will not end up like him, because we will never trust your kind again. Leave us!”
Artist: Sebastian Szmyd
“What a waste of your strength and bravery,” snarled Seth. “Happy hunting.”
Seth disappeared before them in another flash of golden light. The forest was quiet again.
“Hunahpu,” said Xbalanque in despair, “If what he says is true… I cannot lose you, brother.”
“Seth lies.” Hunahpu steadied his voice. “The gods can only decide your fate if you fall for their tricks. We honor our father by embracing our own power, brother.”
“And if Seth is right?”
“There’s only one thing that schemer is right about: the hunt. We’re doomed,” said
Hunahpu. “And even that was a Seth-fulfilling prophecy.” He elbowed his brother. “Get it?”
“We can’t return to Xmucane empty-handed. But what choice do we have? Listen! Not a bird or beast to be heard.”
Hunahpu looked up at the Yellow Tree, the tallest of the Cloud Forest. “What you told Seth back there,” he said, pointing back to the clearing, “‘Let fate come for us.’ But what if today, we enact our plan? What if today, we come for fate?”
Artist: Angelo Chavez
So the brothers began their trek home, their packs light, with only their father’s crushed rubber ball and a scheme, cooked up over many nights of growling stomachs and their family’s ingratitude. Each twin wished to himself that if one of them would have to die, it would be him and not his twin. For how could the Sun carry on without the Moon? Or the Moon without the Sun?
As predicted, when the twins returned home, Xmucane admonished them. Her yell reverberated through the house, drawing their elder half-siblings from their quarters. “No birds?” said Hun Batz in outrage, wrapping the twins’ empty tumpline around
Hunahpu’s neck. “You expect us to go hungry? I should have killed you as an infant!”
“There are birds, half-brother,” Xbalanque said. “Our blowguns have pierced many.”
“They are high in the tallest of trees,” Hunahpu choked out. “Too high. But Xbalanque and I have injured ourselves playing ball, and we cannot climb. We need your help!”
Hun Batz relaxed his chokehold. “Our help? You clumsy fools. You want us to climb a tree?
We are excellent climbers, of course, but we are tired! We’ve been writing our new song, Neverending Song of the Great Artisan Brothers, all day.”
“And we so have much more to write!” said Hun Chouen. “How can you expect us to ever finish on an empty stomach? We are famished!”
“Not as famished as I!” Xmucane’s voice boomed. “Hun Batz and Hun Chouen, go with your helpless half-brothers—or else we will all starve!”
Reluctantly, the elder half-brothers followed the twins through the forest.
“It’s too quiet, Hun Batz,” fretted Hun Chouen. “Not even the monkeys howl.”
“Not to worry, Hun Chouen,” Xbalanque said through a toothy grin. “Even the monkeys fear us today. When you see our dinner, you will understand why. Come now, we are almost to the tree.”
They arrived at the Yellow Tree. The half-brothers looked up at its many branches. The towering tree was much taller than other trees of its kind and its bark was exceptionally smooth. Though filled with doubt, Hun Batz and Hun Chouen did not reveal their fears to the twins.
“Just up there,” said Hunahpu, pointing to the branches. “You will see the birds once you start climbing.” He folded over in an exaggerated bow. “Thank you. There would be no dinner without you two.”
Artist: Aleksei Shatunov
The elder half-brothers climbed and climbed. They struggled, their feet slipping on the smooth bark and their arms weakened by their ascent. When they had almost reached the skyline, Hun Chouen called out, “I see no birds!”
“Higher!” shouted Xbalanque and Hunahpu.
Though the elder siblings climbed higher and higher, the branches above them seemed to multiply.
“We must be nearing the top of the tree,” shouted Hun Chouen, exasperated. “You fools!
There are no birds!”
“Interesting,” said Xbalanque. Looking at his brother, he held in a giggle. “Maybe we led you to the wrong tree. Climb down!”
High above the twins, the elder siblings attempted their descent, insulting their half-brothers in angry shrieks.
“Fools!” screamed Hun Batz.
“Boneheads!” yelled Hun Chouen.
“Didn’t you say you were excellent climbers?” asked Xbalanque. “Use your loincloths to tether yourselves to the branches!”
The elder brothers followed Xbalanque’s advice. But when they looked down to see their half-brothers as small as ants, they were overcome with fear. “Help us, please! The tree is much too tall and we cannot climb down it!” howled Hun Batz and Hun Chouen.
“Do not worry,” snickered Xbalanque and Hunahpu. “We’ll use our magic to make you into excellent climbers!”
The twins held out their hands. Two channels of turquoise energy spilled from their fingertips and snaked up the Yellow Tree. Encircled by the magic, the elder siblings’ angry shrieks crescendoed into fearful howls. Their loincloths, suspending them from the branches above, became monkey tails. Their deep brown skin grew dark fur. Ashamed of their new primitive forms, Hun Batz and Hun Chouen swung deep into the Cloud Forest, far away from the twins.
Artist: Emanuel Pantaleon
Rather than return home to their grandmother, the twins made the trek to the Ballcourt of Honor and Respect at Carchah, the very same court where their father played before they were born. The court, covered in the debris of the surrounding Cloud Forest, was clearly unused for many years. After using their magic to reshape their father’s rubber ball and sweep the ballcourt, the twins scrimmaged, recounting their greatest magical feat to date.
“Their faces!” gasped Hunahpu through peals of laughter. “I’ve never seen mouths so open in surprise. I would almost pity them if—”
“Pity them!” laughed Xbalanque. “How many times a day would they wish us dead? I’d like to see them try now. We’re free! Besides, the forest is not so quiet anymore. Still no bird calls, but plenty of monkey chatter.”
Hunahpu covered Xbalanque’s mouth to stifle his laugh. “Listen.”
Artist: Jeff Miracola
A chorus of hoots resounded in the forest surrounding the ballcourt, drowning out the dwindling howls of the elder siblings. Four immense owls, many times the size of the twins, descended, landing on the high stone walls of the court. A Macaw Owl, with plumes of rich red, golden, and blue feathers and red eyes aglow, led the flock. Behind him was a One-Legged owl, with blue feathers as dark as the midnight sky, a Shooting Owl, with eyes as piercing as arrows and feathers ablaze, and a Skull Owl, whose ink-colored wings grew from its bony head.
Artist: Jeff Miracola
“Why reap petty revenge when there is cosmic vengeance due?” sang the One-Legged Owl.
“We bear an urgent message for the twins of Hun Hunahpu,” sang the Macaw Owl.
“That is our father’s name. We are his twins,” replied the brothers, mustering courage. “And you are?”
“We are only messengers for our lords,” sang the Macaw Owl, “who invite your play at their venue.”
“It seems our ballgame, like our late father’s, has vexed the lords,” said Xbalanque to
Hunahpu. “This ‘challenge’ will cost us our heads, I’m sure.”
Artist: Jeff Miracola
“Perhaps we are your death calling – or perhaps your fate. That much is up to you,” sang the Skull Owl.”
“We are the Military Keepers of the Mat, the underworld breaking through,” sang the Shooting Owl.
“Listen to our message,” sang the One-Legged Owl. “Before you decide what is true.”
“From down in Xibalba, hear our decree…” sang the Macaw Owl.
Artist: Jeff Miracola
“…the Lords of Death do beckon thee,” sang the One-Legged Owl. “Don’t dare reject their hospitality, lest you wind up a head on a tree…”
“…Descend you must into their domain. The realm of fright, doubt, and pain,” sang the Shooting Owl. “The arduous journey may drive you insane, to the land where death and demons reign.”
“Now go,” sang the Skull Owl. “We’ve nothing more to explain.”
In a burst of colorful light, the owls disappeared as suddenly as they appeared, leaving only the colorful clouds of sunset in their wake.
“Nothing more to explain?” said Xbalanque, incredulous. “How about some directions?”
“We aren’t going to Xibalba, Xbalanque. You think we escaped Seth’s trickery just to take a long road trip into the same trap that killed our father?”
“Have you already forgotten what you said earlier, Hunahpu? ‘We honor our father by embracing our power.’ Or what about: ‘What if today, we come for fate?’ Remember?” Xbalanque pointed at the Yellow Tree. “Look at what we are capable of when we embrace our power! And that was just for what the Macaw Owl called petty revenge.”
“The lords’ hospitality invites only our deaths,” Hunahpu said. “Why tempt fate?”
“Who are the Lords of Death to decide our fate, brother? They took our father’s head, yes, but part of him escaped the underworld.” Xbalanque told his confused brother, “We did, in our mother’s womb.” He kneed the rubber ball to Hunahpu. “Let the Lords of Death lay their trap. We will beat them at their own game.”
“We will go then,” conceded Hunahpu, stopping the ball with his hip and juggling it from shoulder to knee. “To honor our parents. But how will we find the path?”
“In her tales of our father and uncle’s descent, mother spoke of a red, black, white, and yellow road. We need only to find their crossroads,” said Xbalanque.
“Military Keepers of the Mat, come back – but this time, with a map!” Hunahpu teased, picking up a fallen red and gold feather from the Macaw Owl.
Xbalanque reached for the feather. Once more, turquoise energy spilled from their fingers, surrounding then shooting out from the feather. Following the turquoise trail out of the ballcourt, the twins came upon the midnight blue feather of the One-Legged Owl.
“Look, Xbalanque!” Hunahpu pointed ahead. The turquoise trail connected to a fiery scarlet plume from the Shooting Owl and then an ink-black tuft from the Skull Owl. The line of feathers dropped by the winged heralds extended far in front of them, disappearing into a steep descent. The portion of the path within eyesight was treacherous, seemingly foreboding of the danger that awaited the twins at its end point.
“To Xibalba, Hunahpu,” Xbalanque said, meeting his brother’s determined gaze.
“To Xibalba, Xbalanque,” Hunahpu agreed. “We have a score to settle with death.”
Artist: Adrian Virlan