No one knew Chelte's age. He was the Ah Kin Mai, translated as the "Highest One of the Sun." The leading priest. None of the dozens who called the jungle retreat their home could remember a time when he wasn't ancient, wasn't the living heart of their small community. When he coughed now, a clear fluid dripped from the side of his mouth. His hands reached for Balaam's tunic. He pulled the younger man close, their faces inches apart.
"We are lost, my son. I know not what great displeasure we must have given, but it scarcely matters. I have seen the great Hurakan smite them all, wise men and fools alike. In truth, the wise men seem the greater fools."
The effort of speaking forced the older man's eyes to close. Balaam's heart filled with terror at the apparent loss of faith by this, the most devout of men. He had rarely heard Chelte mention Hurakan, the ancient God of Fire who caused the Great Flood that wiped out the second divine attempt to create humankind.
Balaam steeled himself against the fear and opened his mouth. He had to deliver his news.
"Chelte, you have been the water of life for all of us. I beg you, do not abandon mighty Itzamna in the moment when you need him most. I bring news, both terrifying and wonderful. I need your guidance."
For several seconds, he heard no reply. Had the old man died? The answer came as a gnarled fist wrapped around his upper arm. The voice was gentle now.
"Balaam, Balaam, you always were a good boy." The voice fell silent again.
Balaam said, "What happened to the others? And how did you escape?"
A harsh laugh reached his ears. "Escape? Is that what you call this?" Chelte gestured to his frail body, a shadow of his former self.
"The herb disappeared. The two harvesting spots were destroyed in mud-slides shortly after you left. And then, we started dying. Most went into the courtyard to die, to leave a warning to anyone who might come. I have been here, asking Itzamna for guidance. He does not answer.
"I am glad you returned. I know not what has happened to the priests in the other temples, but I fear that we may be the last."
Balaam's eyes filled with tears, and he nodded. "That is so. Only two priests were left at Tulum. I told them about the herb, but it was too late for them. Everywhere I went, the priests were already gone."
Chelte said, "You asked how I escaped. I need to tell you the secret of the priests. Something we are sworn to share with none outside ourselves. You see, we know why this has happened to us."
The old man shifted his body, and winced at the effort. "A long time ago, the Ancient Ones came. They were human and yet, not human. They brought tales of a great wave overtaking their home and forcing them out to sea. They came here, and soon they were worshiped almost as gods. It was as if they had the ability to see into our minds.
"For a long time, the Ancient Ones kept themselves separate. Generations were born and died. I don't know how it started, but at some point, they mixed their bloodlines with the priests. Eventually, being of mixed blood became a requirement for a priest, a secret requirement passed on but never written down.
"This was two centuries ago, and everything was fine until I was a young man. Then the first signs of the sickness arrived. For too long, we ignored what is obvious now, that almost all of the dead and dying were priests. The mixed blood killed us.
"The reason I am the last is yet another secret, one my mother told me before the illness took her. My father was not her iicham, he was one of the nobles in Sayil. She never told anyone else. My blood has less of the sickness in it. But sickness it has nonetheless."
Balaam stared at Chelte, trying to understand what he'd heard. "Who were these Ancient Ones?"
Chelte shook his head. "I don't know. I know only what my father told me and what his father told him. Perhaps the Ancient Ones came from the gods, but if they did then so did the sickness.
"There's one more thing you must do. You must get away from the cities. You know that the sickness exists there as well. In the cities, there are some of the mixed blood who did not become priests. Go back to the villages and keep away from anyone with the sickness. With the disappearance of the priests, the nobles will tear apart the cities. It is the way of nature and men. Retreat, and your distant children will inherit the Fifth World."
Balaam's voice became emotional. "The Fifth World! Yes, that is what I must tell you about."
Chelte coughed again. "My body is filled with pain. Give me your news quickly. I will be seeing Itzamna before I ever see the sun rise again."
Balaam began. "We were all wrong. Before they died, the priests near Tulum said the heavens have been tricking us. The fourth world will not disappear at the end of the Long Count. The stars are telling us that nothing is foretold such that the proper actions of men cannot change it. But we must change our ways."
The significance of this hit Balaam like a blow to the stomach. Of course, the sickness must be part of it! Before he could say anything, Chelte spoke with something resembling a low chuckle.