What The Fireleaves Danced

"The engkanto are a strange people, but they are slowly sloughing off the years of secrecy and esotery after that cataclysm. The pariahs among them now live among us. But those that live in that great tamawo city Biringan still hold grudges. They still hold grudges."

- Scroll of the Engkanto, written by Guro Alaman Flavio, 1001th Year of the Masked Moon

Soon enough they were on that path again. Dimalanta decided to keep a few pieces of cooked flesh in a bundle made of banana leaves. He thought it would be helpful in case they got hungry again, or if some wild animal attacked them. He made sure the smell was covered by wrapping the banana leaves tightly, dropping some cut petals of an egg magnolia flower into the bundle.

They walked up the trail that they had stopped on, which was wide enough for two people. It wasn't long before Dimalanta heard the sound of a bowstring being loosed, and an arrow flying through the air. A flock birds chirped and flapped away, startled. The sound of a cry – of a deer, perhaps – followed by a small body thudding the ground.

Dimalanta was down that instant, hiding beneath thick shrubbery, with Manang quickly following suit. He held his sharp dagger in one hand, ready to strike. Manang brought her bonestaff up about her, even if Dimalanta knew she couldn't perform any more witchcraft.

The maharlika peered through the foliage, narrowing his eyes. The sheer density of the forest blocked his line of sight, and all he could see were shadows flitting here and there. The Sun was on its path of descent, not providing a generous amount of light.

"Engkanto?" asked Dimalanta.

Manang shrugged. "They might be. I've no clue."

Dimalanta stayed unmoving for a few more moments, before deciding that staying there wasn't going to help them at all. "The barangay you speak of is just down this path, yes?"

"Indeed," she said. "A few more hours of trekking for us."

"Then we better hurry."

The maharlika and the mangkukulam both rose their feet and stalked down the path. Dimalanta's ears picked up the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut.

The forest was silenced.

Dimalanta turned and lunged toward a Manang as an arrow – longer than any other arrow he'd seen before – flashed beside him and punctured the stone beside them. The arrow shook as two human wanderers crashed to the ground, dust and flowers kicking up in their wake.

A breath, and Dimalanta was on his feet once again. He saw that he had punched the wind out of Manang, who was writhing in the ground, trying to catch her breath. He breathed a silent apology.

With a sharp stone in one hand, and no armor to hide him, he turned to the shadowy assailants.

And shouted: "Peace!" He dropped the sharp stone to the ground. "I call peace!"

There was a scuffle within the woods, a moving of shadows, an eerie umbral dance within the mid of day. Dimalanta spared a glance behind him; Manang was already getting up with the help of her bonestaff. He then turned to see what the shadows were doing, and he found that the shadows had materialized out of the density of the wood. What he saw made him question why he put the sharp stone down, even if it wouldn't have helped him too much.

"Human." The first one said as they came out of the green, stepping over a bush of berries with strange, non-proportionate and lanky legs. Their body structure was surely alien. Long arms, seven feet tall, and with ears reminiscent of sharp leaves. Their hair was made of the finest silver silk, braided to resemble thick vines, and their eyes were shaped like almonds. Their skin was as pale as the crystal beaches of Bokkay.

Dimalanta swallowed. To his side, Manang cursed under her breath. They both knew this creature very well by now.

"Tamawo."

The engkanto wore a loose armor made of some sort of steel that glinted a rainbow of colors in the sunlight. Around his back they wore a cape seemingly made of abaca fibers. They wielded a long bow that might've been a tad bit too large for the average human, made to accommodate their taller size no doubt. "What brings you to our Bordermarches?" Their voice was distinctly masculine.

Three more engkanto materialized out of the forest gloom. Each of them wore similar armor, albeit they had differing weapons. One had a sword, and had a more feminine structure, and her hair had been cut short. Another was another man, wielding a double-headed battle axe, and had no hair. The last was a woman whose hair flowed freely to her back, tied with rose stems to keep it away from her face, and she brandished a flanged mace and shield.

They all looked down at the two humans.

Dimalanta licked his lips, thinking of what to respond. "We are, uh," he said. "Simply venturing to the Barangay down this trail."

"Barangay Sunuga," said Manang, taking a step forward.

The engkanto turned her attention to her, raising an immaculate eyebrow. His shoulders relaxed, by just a bit, but Dimalanta had learned to take note of subtle physical cues. "Sunuga? It is not too far now."

"Yes. I know," said Manang. "It is a p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e to have made your acquaintance. Terribly sorry if we have bothered you during your hunting."

"Not at all," said the engkanto. A moment as that tamawo stared longer at Manang, then: "I am Karilo. The sword-wielder is named Donna, the axe wielder is named Maguso, and the mace-wielder is named Alila."

"Are you sure it is wise to be wasting our time here, Karilo?" said the mace-wielder, Alila. "The beast awaits."

Dimalanta noticed that as Alila was speaking to him, Karilo was looking straight at Manang. "Sunuga is near. It will not be of any consequence if we escort them safely."

Alila flinched back, as if she had been hit by an invisible hand. She looked up at Karilo's face, and then nodded. "Understood. True enough. Let us be off, then."

"Indeed."

The four of them spread out and surrounded the two humans. Karilo, as Dimalanta had predicted, stood nearest to Manang. After they have established their marching order – Alila and Maguso in front, the humans behind them, and then Karilo and Donna beside them – they made their way down the path. As they walked, Karilo spoke to Manang.

"You have the scent of supernatural," said Karilo.

"Aye," she replied. Dimalanta glanced at her with his eyes. Inhaled. "I've met an engkanto before."

"Truly?" said Karilo. "We might know of them. Who could this be?"

"A fair young lass named Adira. Have you known of her?"

"Ah, unfortunately, the realm of the tamawo – and in extension, the realm of the Engkanto – is a vast place. I'm afraid I know of no young Adira, and I am sure the same could be said of my comrades." The others nodded. Karilo turned back to Manang. "Why do you walk around with a shaft of bone?"

This time Dimalanta grit his teeth. He had picked up the sharp stone once again right before they began walking. He gripped it a bit tighter.

"Oh, this?" asked Manang, raising it a bit. "It is my weapon. I am somewhat of a loner, you see, and having a large bone to whack things with has always proven a healthy defender."

"Truly!" said Karilo. He laughed. "You are entertaining me more and more, woman. Ah, that reminds me – I've never truly caught your name."

"Ginto," Manang said, grinning.

"Ginto," repeated Karilo, nodding. "Indeed. Elegant. Beautiful. I think it is rather fitting."

"Why thank you, Karilo," said Manang.

"And what is the name of your companion? Are you twined by oath? Is he your lover?"

Dimalanta let out exhaled quickly through his nose – a small laugh. Manang grinned at that, but she shook her head. "He is very handsome indeed, and very strong as well. Alas, we are only victims of Kapalaran."

"Ah, that is a relief."

Manang smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that so?"

Karilo shrugged. "Maybe I seek to be your lover."

Dimalanta looked around for reactions from the other tamawo and found that they were all looking ahead, intensely focused on the task at hand.

"Ah," said Manang, grinning. "Well it is going to take more than a maybe to be one of many." And with that, Manang grinned. "Are we close enough to Sunuga yet?"

"Close enough. The Sun is descending. We will have reached it by the time the sun has reached mid-descent."

"Excellent."

Karilo had been right. By the time the Sun was mid-descent, they reached an opening in the thick foliage that led to a cliff that overlooked a clearing. Within this clearing – which wasn't very deep – was a bustling Barangay. Dimalanta could see sun-kissed skin children running to and fro huts and houses. In the middle of it all was a torogan hut, made of stone and reserved for the noble class. The harbor to its northeast provided a place for trade, down the river, with various sh.i.p.s ready for departure.

It reminded Dimalanta too much of Sariman's Barangay.

To their left were earthen stairs that lead down to the small clearing. "We must take our leave here," said Karilo.

Manang nodded. "I understand. We thank you for your hospitality."

"You are most welcome, most beautiful Ginto." With that, Karilo bent down and – using a knife – cut a part of his braid. He gave it to Manang and he smiled. "Should you ever wish my help once again, all you will need to do is to burn this lock of my hair, and I will arrive as soon as I can."

"This is too much," said Manang, her voice quivering. "Thank you so much, master tamawo."

"Till we meet again." He nodded to Manang, and then to Dimalanta, and then to the three other tamawo. Soon, they had vanished into the forest once again, and became shadows that soon disappeared.

"That form of yours is dangerous, I see."

"It is," said Manang, nodding her head. "But dangerous is a word I reserve for a night in the wilds. Come, let us introduce ourselves to Barangay Sunuga."

Dimalanta nodded, and the two of them made their way down the earthen stairs to the side of the cliff. Manang began: "I will introduce myself as—"

"My daughter," said Dimalanta. "You are Ginto, Daughter of Dimalanta."

"Do not give your name away so recklessly like that," said Manang. "Also, why am I your daughter? Who gave you the right to dictate who I will be?"

"It is a ruse, Manang," said Dimalanta. "And you look young enough to be my daughter. You are right about the name, however. When I am with you I will be called Sandata."

"On the nose, don't you think?"

"Names speak of many things, 'Ginto'."

As they stepped off of the earthen stairs and onto the ground, a young boy – maybe no older than sixteen harvests – ran up to them, bow in hand and Kris in a sheath. He wore a simple vest, braided with little orbs of gold and other gems, along with a bahag that reached to his t.h.i.g.hs. He was a spry one, as his stride told Dimalanta. "Greetings, traveler!"

Dimalanta smiled. "Greetings."

The boy looked up and down at Dimalanta, and then at Manang. His gaze lingered.

Dimalanta coughed.

"Oh." The boy blinked. "Yes. I am Panan-aw. Welcome to our barangay: Sunuga, travelers. We do not usually get travelers coming in by land."

"Surely it must be strange, yes." Manang said.

"Indeed. Why have you come up to greet us?"

Panan-aw shrugged. "There have been attacks from another clan to the south, you see, and so most of us are ready for raids from those clans."

"It must be fun," said Dimalanta. "You are kept on your toes."

Panan-aw nodded. "We are indeed. You are not agents of the Araga Clan, then? Truly?"

Manang shook her head. "We are not. We are simply travelers. We are heading to Pinagsama."

"Oh, truly? It should be easy enough. The river leads to Pinagsama itself."

"Oh, extraordinary," said Manang. "Then we must leave posthaste."

"There is some trouble, unfortunately."

Dimalanta hissed. "What?"

Panan-aw turned around and said. "It is better if you see for yourself. But you must be tired. Come, I will give you a place to rest."

Dimalanta sighed and glanced at Manang. Manang shrugged, and then gesticulated so as to tell him to "follow along".

They followed after Panan-aw. The boy was spry on his feet as he avoided a stray pig running to and fro as they entered into the dirt road in between the first few kubos of the barangay. A small girl came running out, wearing a baro and saya, waving her dirty hands. "Kuya! The pig!"

Panan-aw was already after the pig, moving with surprising speed that wowed even Dimalanta, even though the maharlika had never been the quickest of warriors. The boy darted to the left, the direction of the pig, kicking dirt and dust. He lunged as he neared the pig, sailing across the sky, and actually hit the ground past the pig, rolled, and threw his arms out.

The pig was dormant and submissive in his arms as he walked back to the girl. "Here you go Liit. Be careful when feeding the pigs, okay?"

The girl nodded. "You're so fast, kuya. Why don't you have a wife yet?"

Panan-aw chuckled and shook his head. "Run along, young one." And the girl did so, back to her little kubo.

He turned to the mangkukulam and maharlika and gestured with his head to follow him again. They did so. Many people greeted the young boy. An elderly woman, hunched back and face lined with sharp, painful-looking tattoos. She had the kindest smile and waved at Panan-aw. "You hunt anything today?" she shouted from her kubo.

"Not yet, Mana Maranan. But I'll be sure to beat you soon!"

She grinned at that. "I'll be waiting." She chuckled and turned to Dimalanta. "You, cursed by the diwata! You best be careful! Your fate precedes you!"

Dimalanta stopped in his tracks and looked at the woman, and the woman shrugged. The maharlika turned to Manang. "What does she—"

"It means many things, maharlika," said Manang. "I have sensed it too, like I said. Now follow along. The boy is quick on his feet."

Manang walked past him as he stared at the woman longer, who stared back. "Mana Maranan," he muttered under his breath. The tattoos on her face spoke volumes about who she was. He had to be careful.

Not even Datu Sariman had tattoos on his face, after all.

The two of them followed after Panan-aw until they came across a small kubo, only large enough to usually fit two people. Like all the other kubo, they stood on stilts, presumably to avoid flooding problems should the river rise.

Panan-aw walked up the short wooden ladder and opened the blinds. "You two can stay in here while I talk with the Datu."

"Very well," said Manang. "Who owns this house?"

"I do," replied Panan-aw, and he gestured for them to go inside.

Once the two of them had gone in, the boy said, "I will be back soon. There is some food on the table. Please eat – you must be hungry."

Dimalanta opened his mouth to say that they had already eaten, but Manang spoke first, "Thank you muchly, young boy. Your hospitality is something to be admired."

"You must not have gone to many barangays then…"

Dimalanta raised an eyebrow. Manang stilled.

"I will be back. Please rest." And with that, he left them to their own devices.

Manang turned to him. "That boy is…"

"He is a good boy," said Dimalanta, settling down to the bed on the floor. "But I am not sleepy, nor tired." He turned to the table in between the two beds, upon which sat a heap of rice and lambanog within a coconut shell. Both of them were placed within a large banana leaf. "I could use a lambanog though."

"It makes one wonder," said Manang. "Why he has two beds and yet has the house for himself."

"You are looking too much into it, Manang."

"I am old, Dimalanta. I know many things."

"Surely you do." And with that, Dimalanta sipped the cup of lambanog. It was fresh, maybe newly made. He liked the taste, and realized he missed drinking after a few days without it.

"I am not content by sitting here," said Manang. She took out a banana leaf she had hanging by her side and unraveled it, showing the various crushed purple petals, some little seeds, a few stems, some dirt, some crushed leaves, and some ash.

"Where'd you get those?"

"While we were travelling," said Manang. "I picked up the ash after you cooked that buffalo."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "Resourceful."

"I am a mangkukulam, after all." She rose to her feet and looked around the room until she spotted something near the corner. Dimalanta, eyebrows creased, watched as Manang walked over to the north east corner of the room, bent down over a small stone stove, and picked up the pestle lying on top of it.

"What are you doing?"

"I am taking measures to protect myself, maharlika. I'm no blade connoisseur, nor am I of heaving bulk as you. And thus I must protect myself with my witchcraft and aberrations."

"If you say so."

Manang walked over to her bed once again and began crushing the petals and the leaves and the ash. As she did, she looked around before turning to Dima and saying "Would you be so kind as to bring me a hot cup of water?"

"What am I, your servant?"

"I am the one who holds unnerving power at my fingertips. You are the one who is mortal."

"Am I, really?"

"Yes. You are."

Dimalanta burned Manang with his gaze, but Manang had turned back to the monotonous gnashing with the pestle. Dimalanta sighed. He might as well. It's not like he was going to lie down and sleep.

He rose to his feet and made his way over to the blinds, when he saw Panan-aw walking up to him. When the boy saw the maharlika, the boy's hand tensed, reaching for something hanging from a cord running around his waist. "You are leaving?"

"Only to get hot water."

"You are thirsty? There is lambanog there."

"Ginto doesn't drink lambanog."

"Ginto…? Ah," Panan-aw said, then shrugged. "You will get hot water after you meet Datu Bangisan. He has requested to meet you."

Dimalanta inhaled and nodded. He turned back to look at Manang, who had packed away the banana leaf, and had already put back the pestle into its proper place. "Let us go then."

"Lead on," said Dimalanta.