Two of a Kind - 5. Chapter 5: The Temple

The sun was hovering just above the horizon when they stood outside the Temple. It was a dark stone cave; the triangular rock face above it was carved into the semblance of a giant black jaguar with stone pillars on either side. The entrance, flanked by dark stone walls that reached toward them, resembled nothing so much as a gaping hole waiting to suck them inside.

Cavel was incredibly nervous as he stood there in the evening light. Sweat dripped down his face as he waited, glancing between Bashta and the Temple. "Are we supposed to do anything? I was so concerned with getting here that I didn't even think about what I would have to do when we went into the temple."

Bashta smiled at him, "Don't worry. I have offerings for you. They came to me in a dream so I know they will be lucky for your clan."

Cavel closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you." Reaching out, he ran a gentle hand down Bashta's arm and twined their fingers together. "I even slept better than I ever have last night." He smiled at Bashta, remembering the way the younger man had held his hand and snuggled close after the heat of the day fell away and the cool of the night had taken its place. They had stayed close together as Bashta led them through the secret trails toward the plateau. He gasped as he turned back to look at the Temple.

The sun touched the horizon and it began to blaze as if it were on fire. The opening became a fiery pit and flames danced and shimmered above the carved face and pillars high above them. All of the men were frozen in awe, souls brushed by the obviously otherworldly ancient Temple. Respect for the legends and traditions of the Jaguars made them quiet as they waited but now pure awe held them as they waited for Cavel to find the means to save their families.

"We must go inside now, quickly, before the flare fades and the Temple is closed to us," Bashta warned Cavel. Feeling as if there was a stone in the pit of his stomach, Cavel stumbled behind him, hardly daring to take his eyes off the fiery face that loomed high above them, watching as they dared approach the most sacred Temple to all Jaguar Carthera. Bashta pulled him along carefully but quickly as the sun continued to sink below the earth. They paused before the opening and Cavel looked back at his men who had come so far to protect him on his journey. Their clan's only hope was for him to go on. His face was serious as he squared his shoulders and then nodded at Bashta’s questioning look.

He took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

Cavel cautiously followed Bashta into the fiery opening. He flinched as he walked into the wall of flame, expecting it to burn but all he felt was pleasant warmth flowing through his body. Their footsteps were dampened in the stone tunnel and Cavel was startled when he realized he could no longer hear any sound from outside the cave. He turned his head to look back and faced a sheet of silently flowing flames that blocked his view. Fear settled heavy in his stomach and he shuddered.

"We have to perform a cleansing ritual in the pools before we go before the Well of Souls. It will purify our bodies and our minds." Bashta smiled reassuringly at Cavel. "Don’t worry, you’ll like this part."

Cavel’s mouth was dry and he couldn’t speak, only nod. His clan was depending on him. Knowing his mate was there with him was a huge comfort as well. He took in Bashta's confident walk, his demeanor tempered with respect, but not fear. Cavel needed to trust his mate. He found his mind drifting to think about their relationship. His bond with Bashta might be incomplete but they had acknowledged it and made some strides to coming to terms with it. No matter what, Cavel would find a way to complete their bond. He was ready to end his loneliness.

'Focus!' he told himself, forcing his eyes from Bashta. He took in the intricate carvings lining the walls depicting jaguars in the wild and Carthera, both changed and unchanged. There were also birds, and plants, figures that looked like men. Some of the men were doing things he didn't care to think about, shuddering and looking away from that section as they walked. In many images a huge black jaguar was depicted with rays radiating from his head. He frowned, unable to understand the story behind the pictures.

He could feel the warmth increasing even as the light from the opening faded. Silent, they walked downward until the floor under them leveled out. When the air changed, moving over his skin Cavel stopped and spread his arms out; he sensed they were in a large chamber. His nose wrinkling in concentration, Cavel smelled water. Bashta was still there, though no longer in arms-reach.

"Bashta?" Cavel whispered.

"I’m here, just getting a fire started." Small flames began to build, revealing Bashta crouched down feeding small twigs into the growing fire. Soon there was a small blaze dancing on larger branches and he stood up. His face grew solemn as he reached down and unwound his breechclout. “We need to bathe in the sacred pools and purify our bodies before we approach the Well.”

Cavel’s breath faltered. 'Focus on the cure.' He closed his eyes, repeating that to himself until he could get his feelings under control. He began stripping with his eyes closed, unbuttoning his shirt first and slipping it off. He opened his eyes to find that Bashta had turned away and was moving in the shadows near one wall. Cavel quickly looked away, gazing at the ceiling of the cave, the murky darkness pushed back only a little by the fire’s light.

Dropping his shirt, Cavel unbuttoned his pants, shoving them and his underwear down at the same time. He flushed when he realized he forgot to take off his boots first. The awkwardness of balancing on one foot to get them off took his mind off what he was actually doing until he turned to face Bashta by the fire again.

Despite the gravity of the moment they took the time to appreciate their first glimpse of each other naked. Cavel had seen most of Bashta's body, but the sight of him fully unclothed held Cavel transfixed. Bashta was running his eyes up and down Cavel's body and a sudden tightening in his groin betrayed his own reaction. Cavel quickly turned away to face the dark pool on their right, biting his lip to hold back his moan of want.

"Uhh... let's get in the water," Bashta stammered. He was eager to step into the warm water. The heat and the darkness would hide a multitude of embarrassing reactions he couldn't stop from happening.

Cavel cleared his throat but didn't say anything, following Bashta. They stepped into the pool carefully, planting their feet on the slippery rock. The heated water made them both groan and the swirling water felt good but Cavel could not seem to relax. They sat on a rocky ledge for a short time, soaking up to their shoulders. After a short time Bashta stood up and then turned to pick up a round wood bowl from the side of the pool. He dipped it into the water and filled it, pouring the steaming water over his head four times and then handed it to Cavel. Leaning back, the warm water streamed over his head and washed away sand, sweat, and dirt when he copied Bashta’s actions. Bashta poured a handful of crushed flowers in the bowl after Cavel was done and then dipped water inside, swirling it as he chanted in a language Cavel didn't recognize.

"Close your eyes," Bashta whispered.

Cavel closed his eyes and then sank down into the water at pressure from one of Bashta's hands on his shoulder. He shuddered, despite the warmth as Bashta poured the strong smelling astringent fluid over his head. Setting the bowl aside he stood behind Cavel, still chanting. Once again he pushed down on his shoulders again until Cavel went completely under the water. He held there for a moment then came out at urging from Bashta's hands. He wiped at the water streaming down his face until he could open his eyes safely.

"Almost done," Bashta assured him. He filled the bowl again and began his chant as he swirled the small orange flower pieces around and around. Offering the bowl, Bashta continued his chant as Cavel poured the sharp smelling liquid over his head. He grimaced as some went into his mouth but quickly ducked under the water. His head was tilted back as he came out of the water and water streamed down his shoulder length hair and back. Bashta ran his hands over it, pushing more of the water off making Cavel bit his lip and look away again.

"We can get out now."

Once out of the pool, Bashta picked up the bowl and walked over to the dark corner of the room. The warm air was rapidly drying their bodies. Bashta returned with an unlit wood torch in one hand as Cavel was eyeing his sweaty clothes with distaste. "We can't wear those anyway. We must go unclothed from here," Bashta told him. He dug through the small woven bag and pulled out a small leaf packet folded up and a gourd.

"What are those?" Cavel asked.

"Offerings." Bashta handed them to Cavel and then lit the torch in the small fire. He led them from the chamber with the pools through a tunnel opposite the one they entered through. It grew warmer as they went deeper into the headland. "This is the way to the actual Temple."

"Okay," Cavel said quietly, his throat too tight to say more. His stomach churned. Either he would find a cure in the Temple somehow or the time it had taken for his men to come with him, to protect him on their journey, would be stolen from the precious last moments his clan might have together. The thought of that was almost more than he could handle so he focused on his surroundings. The only problem with that was becoming too aware of Bashta’s lean naked form leading the way as the muscles from his calves to his ass tensed and relaxed with each step he took. The flickering of the torch only served to make his compact muscles more defined.

He was beginning to become uncomfortably aroused when the tunnel began to rise up into the carved peak. The light began to shimmer as it reflected off walls covered in black shiny obsidian and carved in even more intricate scenes than the tunnel by the entrance. Cavel was fascinated, stopping for a moment to reverently touch a female protecting a set of cubs. The lines of the small creatures seemed oddly vulnerable and he had the oddest urge to cover them with his hands and protect them from an unseen menace. It left a sense of urgency and renewed determination to save the kitlings of his clan.

Noticing that Bashta didn’t see him stop, he hurried to catch up before the light faded but he slowed when he realized the light wasn’t coming from the torch. Looking up the tunnel he saw the flickering orange light that flared in another opening. Sweat broke out across his body. He could sense something beyond that way, a vast power. No matter what happened now he was prepared to be the alpha his clan needed.

Bashta plunged into the flames and stood in a small chamber high in the plateau. The torch went into a holder beside the door. Two ovals of flickering flame, the eyes of the great cat carved into the outside, were directly behind the altar. He took two steps into the room and waited for Cavel who shuddered and then squared his shoulders when he entered the chamber. Nodding, he indicated the offerings Cavel still clutched.

“We’ll do it together,” Bashta assured him.

There was an altar held up on either side by two pillars carved into jaguars bowing, backs arched with their heads low to the ground. The flat obsidian top was polished to a mirror shine and the staring eyes of the great carving were reflected in its surface. Taking the leaf bundle Bashta unwound the bit of vine holding it together and laid it in the center of one of those glowing eyes. Inside the packet were two carved black rings, shaped painstakingly by Bashta on their journey. They were plain bands but each one was a perfect circle, polished to a black luster that caught the light of those glowing eyes and reflected it back again. Cavel gently placed the gourd down in the other eye and tugged carefully to pull out the stopper. Inside was the highly prized oil from the tucuma fruit, strong and fragrant. Bowing, both men stepped back several steps from the front of the altar.

Panicking, Cavel began to lean toward Bashta, opening his mouth to ask where the Well was. Bashta shook his head, not speaking. Cavel began to shake, fearing that he had come to the wrong place. Reaching over, Bashta squeezed his hand, locking their fingers together. Bashta knelt, tugging Cavel down with him. Letting go, he bowed and then closed his eyes. His strong voice broke the silence for the first time as he began chanting, his voice rising and falling in ritual entreaty.

Cavel didn’t have the words but he closed his eyes and began pleading in his mind, begging for help to save the spirit’s chosen people. He felt his body become heavier, as if the weight of his fear pressed him down. He refused to think that way, of the pain and anger he felt over his sick clan. Instead he thought of the love he had for each of the kitlings he protected. Their smiling faces, unconscious grace, and pure souls that deserved to live. They made the world a better place just by being within it. He thought of the love their parents showed through their sacrifices, his men coming with him to protect his journey with their own lives if necessary. All that so their children would have a chance to live.

With their eyes still closed, the men reached for each other’s hands at the same moment. The love they had found on their journey through the jungle flowed through them. The sense of completeness, the relief from the aching loneliness that threatened to tear them apart when they stood alone, was now assuaged just by being near the other, the trembling desire brought a fine trembling they both felt racing through their limbs as they grew closer. Bonded or not, Cavel swore that he would be the best mate Bashta ever had. He would give him, not the family he lost, but a new family to enfold him in layers of care and affection.

"Rarely have I heard or felt such purity and devotion," came a rumbling voice. Both men's eyes snapped open and they gasped in awe. Cavel’s hand tightened on Bashta’s hand, his knuckles turning white. An enormous black jaguar sat in front of the altar, watching them as his tail flicked back and forth. His yellow eyes reflected the orange flames as he looked down on them.

"Do you mean that?" he asked.

"Pardon me." Bashta bowed. "Do you speak to me, Great One?"

The large jaguar seemed to smile fondly at Bashta. "No, dear heart."

Cavel gulped, that meant him. "I am unsure of what you mean, Great One. If you mean my thoughts of moments ago, yes. More than anything. I want the suffering to end. My people and," he glanced at Bashta, "my mate, deserve to live in health and joy. I would give anything but my soul to give them that."

The great jaguar narrowed his eyes. "You would place limits on what you would offer when you beg a boon for your people?"

"My soul is not mine to give," Cavel said softly. He looked down to where Bashta held his hand, their fingers white from the tight grip and then looked up to stare in the jaguar's eyes. "That part of me has always belonged to Bashta and it always will. The piece of his soul I carry is held in trust only. I cannot betray my mate, not even to save my people who are your people, Great One.”

"I would never ask that Cavel face the pain I have felt since my clan died.” Bashta objected. “That he would do that, risk his clan for me, is… too much.” Bashta looked away from the Jaguar and his tears slowly fell from his eyes as he looked at Cavel’s soft expression. “He… I love him.” He looked back at the Jaguar. “I would do whatever required of me to spare him pain."

A curious sound rumbled in the cat's chest. He rose up, easily towering over the kneeling men. He paced in a circle while they held their breath. "You would give anything. Any price I asked? Both of you?"

Bashta and Cavel looked at each other, unspoken communication passing between them.

"Yes," Cavel answered simply.

The Jaguar moved to stand before him, just inches from Cavel’s face. Cavel instantly fell into his dark eyes, passing through a great ring of flames just like the ones behind the altar. He felt a presence in his mind, a voice that whispered and spoke to him with the combined forces of all his ancestors. He was suspended in a moment of time, immersed in the essence of his people’s origins, lines that led back into history to this one creature. His defenses stripped back, Cavel was flooded with knowledge and power and a sense of duty made all the stronger by his renewed connection to his kind.

He gasped when he was released, weaving on his knees until he could catch his balance. Bashta held him upright until he blinked a few times and then managed a short bow to the Jaguar.

“You are worthy to be a Protector of our kind. Bashta was chosen as a kitling, brought before me and pledged to be whatever his clan needed him to be.”

Bashta was unable to choke back his sob at the reminder of the solemn ceremony. Held in his father’s arms as a small kitling the experience and connection he had felt to his people had been the brightest thing in his soul. When they died that had disappeared and the reminder of that made his chest ache in misery. Cavel instantly looked away from the Jaguar and wrapped his arms around Bashta to comfort him. The Jaguar purred, a deep rumble that helped soothe the pain.

"Is this what you want as well, dear one?" the jaguar asked Bashta when he lifted his head from Cavel’s shoulder.

"Yes." Bashta’s voice was firm but soft, even as Cavel leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, the tip of his tongue licking the last tear from Bashta’s soft skin. Cavel sat back and they both turned toward the Jaguar, their hands once again linked.

"Good. You will have need of that certainty. What I ask will be difficult for you. You will need support to endure the coming hardship." Bashta blanched a little but Cavel tightened his grip. The Jaguar stood up, towering over them. "The words of the spirits are often hard to understand. You listened when they spoke through the wise woman and made your way here, into the jungle, though you had nothing but faith to guide you."

"Where I met and fell in love with my mate," Cavel smiled, "as badly as I bungled it in the beginning."

The Jaguar huffed, amusement in his voice, "Truly. What you do not know is that you also found your cure."

Cavel looked confused. "I did? I don't understand, what cure?" The Jaguar looked at Bashta which only made Cavel more confused. "Pardon me, Great One, I still don't understand."

"As the only survivor of his clan Bashta is also the only survivor of this plague that has so decimated your kind."

Understanding dawned on Cavel's face. "He had the plague? But… how did he survive?" He turned to Bashta. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Bashta looked confused. "Tell you what? I didn't know I was sick. I certainly never experienced the sickness of my clan. I was here in the Temple as they died."

"Of course, don't you see? The plague attacks the brain and causes headaches long before it attacks the body further and causes the more obvious symptoms. You must have had the headache but just didn't realize it with the fever from your infection. When you came to be healed the ritual must have done more than just cure the infection, they cured the plague."

"Then how am I your cure? We don't have time to get your whole clan here and heal them all, do we?"

"No, don't you see? We don't have to bring them here for the cure; we can take the cure to them. It's in you, your blood!" Cavel said in excitement. "I can create an antiserum with your blood and give it to my clan. It would attack the toxins created by the bacteria that is making them sick." Bashta's forehead was wrinkled.

Cavel simplified, "We would make a medicine from your blood and because you had the plague but were healed, they would be healed too. Your blood holds the cure inside it."

Bashta's face smoothed out and he smiled in joy, "You can do that? Really?"

Cavel was almost dancing while still on his knees, "Oh yes!" His excitement faltered, "But... You'll have to leave the jungle, your home."

"I could come back."

"That you could," said the Jaguar.

Bashta blushed, "Our apologies, Great One. In our excitement we did not mean to ignore you."

"I am not slighted. But there is more you must know," he said kindly. "In order for your blood to work on his clan, you must be his clan. You must be bonded."

"But I have no clan. How can I mate if I have no one to sing for me?" Bashta’s face fell. They wouldn’t be able to save them. Cavel’s clan would die, just as his did. His heart turned to stone in his chest.