Marinis and his brother, Maya, walked down the rough rubble strewn path in which the entire tribe used daily to collect water from the nearby stream, Plusk, they called it.

The rocks on this path were very strange; they seemed to be arranged in an orderly pattern, sometimes straight sometimes winding down for miles until the rocks could no longer be seen or hidden by forest. They had strange markings and some were even black and made of many rocks. It was said once that this was the path to the temple of the ancient god, Hirhota, and that one day he became ill, then angry, and eventually mad as he destroyed his temple and his glorious road leading to it. Those were simply legends, and the path used to collect water was no more mysterious than a few strange rocks to the simple Indians.

They were a nomadic people who had wandered the plains for upwards of a thousand years. They saw no need to progress to the future, as they saw it, they had no past as they kept no historians. They wandered the plains hunting and gathering and living as any normal man, happy to just be living.

Maya, the younger brother was always interested in these legends since he was a little boy, he had an overactive imagination according to the elders, always looking for connections when there clearly were none. Maya had spent his life in vain looking for that final link that would make the old legends true. His older brother, Marinis, named after the sea for his dark skin and deep blue eyes was a little more down to earth always performing his duties without complaint hoping that one day he would take his seat next to the tribal elders and advise the tribe on their troubles. Marinis had never taken stalk in the legends as his brother Maya did, which generally led to long drawn out arguments whether the legends were true and a general disliking of the other brother. Maya, named after the ancient and deceased god of discovery, always felt destined to find that missing link he always spoke of and fulfill his name as “discoverer”. Warned not to dwell on such things he was destined, by the elders, to become crazy one day and wander the plains a babbling fool, as many like him had done before after claiming to have found evidence validating the legends.

The destinies of both the brothers was about to be fulfilled in one hot afternoon as they walked down that path of strange rocks with the strange markings. The younger brother Maya, wished to go exploring down a path that led away from the river because he believed that there was perhaps more water, or mystery. The older brother Marinis only wished to perform his duty for his family and tribe by getting the water. He believed that it was only days before he would be selected as a tribal leader and sit on the council, this was not the time to screw things up he thought as his brother proposed his plan of exploration.

“Go and explore yourself, if you wish, but I will not be a part of any of your plans.” Marinis said to Maya, and without a word, Maya was off in the opposite direction of the river. Marinis shook his head in disgust as Maya walked away. Maya did not return for several days. To no great surprise to Marinis he was elected as the youngest leader to ever sit on the tribal council.

And now the rest.....

When Maya did return, he had no recollection of where he was or even who he was, he simply stumbled into camp yelling of towers of mystery and a strange symbol he had seen many times over. When asked to see the symbol, he would draw a circle in the sand with three partitions surrounding the original circle making a larger one. The symbol held no meaning to anyone in the camp. After setting fire to several tents in the camp, he was banished to walk the planes alone and waste away to nothing. This punishment ironically was dealt by his brother Marinis without any regret or guilt. His reasoning is that the camp would get along better without the hindrance of a crazy mind.

Maya, though banished never left the safety of the camp, he had no chance of survival on his own, so he would always stay around the camp just out of eyesight at night and sneak into the camp when everyone was asleep and steal some food. Some of the tribesman took pity on Maya and left food out for him, or at least collected more food to make up for their lack of food taken by Maya and when it was winter they would let him steal some “extra” winter clothing so he would survive. This seemed of no particular burden to the tribe as they were in a great prosperity at the time and could spare the extra clothing and food.

Marinis, at first not concerned about his half witted brother was sure that he would wander away never to return, but upon seeing his persistence through the years to remain, Marinis called his brother from the night to speak to the council.

“Tell us your story” Said Marinis at the head of the tribal council.

Maya, distorting his face at his brother’s voice, perhaps from the slight remembrance of the family connection or perhaps the burns on his back looked at Marinis and began speaking in babbling tones that at first no one could understand. But after listening for a while they could finally understand what he was trying to say. He had no teeth, or hair, and his fingernails had fallen out several times and his tongue failed him several times before anyone could understand him.

The tribe acclimated itself to his tones and listened as he began his story using drawn pictures and half words. He described the trail he and his brother had been traveling down when he decided to go exploring. He climbed for several miles until he reached a shallow cave opening where several small mammals and birds lay dead. Maya walked inside to find a shiny surface that appeared to meld with the rock. Yet all its strength failed when it was touched, it crumbled away to brown stone color flakes to the ground. This was where he first saw the symbol he repeatedly drew in the sand almost obsessively.

When Maya got inside he described long tunnels with tall cylindrical stacks of the same substance that was at the entrance of the cave. And when he touched these, they crumbled just as the cave opening had. He described strange lights at his feet, a glowing green that poured out of the containers. He thought he heard a shuffle in the cave and ran out to find it very dark outside. It was dark, yet he could see. He looked down at himself to find the same green substance over him as he emitted light. He was also severely burned, though from what he did not know, he had not been near any fire. When asked to see his back, Maya took off his shirt and showed the massive scars and burns on his back and arms, and legs. There even appeared to be gashes as if someone had cut him. After that he described a sudden memory loss after leaving the caves, and how it took years to fully recover his memories and some of his wits.

It had been determined that he may stay in the tribe as long as did not cause any harm to anyone else. One day later Maya died.

The story teller at this point stopped his story and closed his ancient book full of pictographs. The story teller was the first historian in the tribe, Marinis was his name. The same Marinis as in the story he had just read, though the two young Indians he was reading it to had no way of knowing that. He described the horrible fate of Maya, and others who followed him to that mountain after his death.

“That is why we never approach Cuyac. Anyone who approaches that mountain dies as if they had stood in fire.”

The two children would never wander too near there again after hearing the story.

very nice story. I"ll scare my kids with it

I was just wondering, was my explanation with what killed them good?

I mean, did you understand what it was?