The Legend of the Waterfalls Pt. 02

Once again, many, many thanks to chasten for helping me navigate the intricacies of the English language and a shout-out to the Aardvark Association for the added guidance.

A great majority of deities in Filipino folk-lore are shape-shifters who can change their physical dimensions at will, they also transcend both time and space. The names of the gods and goddesses in this tale can all be found in mythology books, but the tale is wholly mine.

Please enjoy.

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Apo Galang smiled contentedly as he gazed at the two figures walking side by side along one of the many pathways that wound through the lodge's gardens. His lakan was much taller than Bighani, his muscular legs longer than hers, yet he always matched his steps to her smaller ones.

The advisor knew he had been right to pursue the match between his lakan and the lowland princess, it was clear that their love for each other blossomed with each passing day; never had he seen Dumakulem smile as much and the lost look in Bighani's eyes had faded -- to be replaced by a warm deep glow whenever they were in each other's company.

He turned back to the table where the ancient scrolls were laid out. He had been studying them for years, but now that the highlands and the tribes seemed safe, perhaps it was time he stopped doing so. Surely, the old tales and even older maps and prophecies written on them, were no longer cause for any concern. Besides, it had been ages since Lakan Danum, Dumakulem's brother and greatest enemy, had disturbed them; he may have outgrown his greed and jealousy.

Bighani stopped and pointed to the west where the sun was setting between the two sacred peaks. The mountain sky was ablaze with color.

"How beautiful it is," she whispered.

They watched as the colors softly faded and the blue sky darkened.

Bighani sighed and turned to the mountain-god.

"Dapit-hapon is such a magical time here in the mountains, Lakan. You and the highlanders are blessed to see such a sunset every afternoon."

"Sunsets are beautiful in the valleys, too, Bighani."

"Yes, but up here, you are surrounded by the colors, they are above you and around you," she said, spinning slowly, her arms outstretched.

Dumakulem smiled then reached for her hand when she stopped.

"I am -- happy -- that there is something in the highlands that pleases you."

She held his hand between hers, she could feel the burn marks on his palm; once again she felt her heart constrict at what he had to go through to save his people.

"The sunset is but one of the many things in the highlands that pleases me, Lakan," she managed at last.

"May I know what the others are, Lakambini?"

"Where do I start, Lakan? The people, especially now that I have gotten to know them, your customs, your history, the sunrise, the sacred peaks, the trees and...and," she faltered.

"And?"

"You, Lakan."

He did not answer, his head was bowed, his eyes closed, only the slight tremor in his hands told Bighani that he had heard her.

"It has been such a long time since someone has expressed affection for me, Lakambini," he managed to answer at last. "I am...afraid to believe your words."

"Lakan," she whispered, "look at me."

"You are what pleases me most here in your kingdom, Dumakulem. The earth mother has granted me my dearest wish, after all."

"Your dearest wish?"

"To marry my true love."

The mountain-god's golden eyes lit up with a glow that transformed his face, Bighani no longer saw the scars nor the hard edges; she only knew that, for her, he was everything a god should be -- true and beautiful.

He lifted her in his arms and pressed her close to his naked chest, her arms went around his neck. She closed her eyes and offered him her lips. Dumakulem lowered his head.

"She is mine, brother!"

Igat, the giant sea snake, and the true form of Lakan Danum, blocked the path before them.

"I knew her first, Dumakulem," the river-guardian said, his long body swaying menacingly, "but, as always, you steal what should be mine."

The mountain-god set Bighani down and placed her behind him.

"Why are you here, Igat? A deity cannot just enter another god's domain without permission, and you know this better than any of the others, for Apo Galang told me that you were the one who insisted that it be so at the last assembly."

"I am part mountain-denizen, just like you, brother. I do not need your permission to visit what was once my home."

"You will need it -- to stay -- and you have already over-stayed your visit."

The mountain began to shake as Dumakulem's voice deepened in rising anger.

"Lord Igat," Apo Galang finally arrived, breathless. "Haring Magat made his choice; the announcement was made weeks ago, and messengers have been sent far and wide to spread the good news."

"That makes no difference to me, Galang; Bighani is the fairest lakambini of all and I am the only god who deserves to wed her; otherwise, I will set in motion what you and Dumakulem have been afraid of for years."

"Bighani," he hissed, "Be at my lodge in the marshlands in three days, where we will be wed. If you do not marry me, I shall cause all the rivers, streams and lakes to dry up; everyone, highlanders and lowlanders alike, will face drought and famine and terrible suffering, even death. And do not worry," he added, seeing the fear in her eyes, "I shall always appear in my human form...for you."

Suddenly, Dumakulem gave a mighty roar; he grabbed Igat, lifted him high above his head then threw him to the ground, planting his heel on the serpent's head.

"Lakambini," Apo Galang cried out, "deities are not supposed to harm each other for they risk being cast out by the other gods. Only you can stop our lakan!"

Bighani ran to Dumakulem and knelt before him.

"Please stop, Lakan," she implored Dumakulem, "if you harm him, all will be lost."

The serpent writhed in agony as the mountain-god dug his heel deeper into its skull.

"Mahal," she begged again, "my love, if you harm him, we may never be together."

Dumakulem raised his foot and spat on Igat.

"You no longer exist for me, brother," he said, as Bighani led him away.

The serpent uncoiled his long body; he was still in pain, but he had won, he knew there was only one choice Bighani and Dumakulem could make.

"Remember, Galang, three days," he hissed before slithering down the mountainside.

That night, Apo Galang dined alone; both Dumakulem and Bighani sent their apologies and the advisor himself ate very little.

Was what he learned from years of studying the ancient scrolls enough? If he was wrong, he would not only be placing Bighani in terrible danger, he would be condemning Dumakulem and all the tribes to several lifetimes of misery. But, if he was right...Apo Galang stood up and made his way to his room to study the scrolls once more.

Dumakulem heard a faint knocking on the door of his bedchamber.

"Please leave the tray by the door," he called out, thinking it must be one of the lodge helpers bringing him food; but when the knocking continued, he stood up, opened the door, and caught his breath.

There stood Bighani, clad only in her lufid, she was naked from the waist up.

"Lakan," she whispered, her voice trembling, "if you were to...take me tonight, perhaps Danum might not want me...anymore...and then he won't..."

"Bighani, I know my brother and nothing would give him more pleasure than to see me suffer, he will not stop until he has what he wants and will not care who he hurts in the process," he sighed heavily, "and I cannot take you this way, my love, I...cannot."

She burst into tears at his words. Dumakulem took her in his arms and carried her to his bed where he cradled her for hours, rocking her gently back and forth. They did not notice the door open.

"There may be a way to save us all," Apo Galang said.

---------

Igat, the sea serpent, emerged from the middle of the lake and swam towards the shore. Clenched between his jaws was a long white cloth that shimmered like nacre -- the wedding veil of his mother, Aman Sinaya.

He reached the shore and quickly transformed into the handsome Lakan Danum. He unfolded the veil and admired its beauty.

"So that was where you kept it all this time," a voice behind him said.

Danum turned around; the earth mother, Mariang Makiling, was sitting on an old tree stump beside the lake.

"All the celestials were wondering where that veil was, after you stole it from your brother."

"Your memory is fading, Dayang Maria, Dumakulem gave me the veil."

"He gave you the one thing his mother bequeathed him, because you threatened the lowlands with a drought and here you are, doing the same thing again."

She held up a hand as Danum tried to answer.

"I do not want to hear your reasons, Danum. Bighani is dear to me and I am here to warn you: I and the other deities do not approve of your dangerous game."

"A game? Is that what the other deities think this is? Does my love for Bighani count less than Dumakulem's? I knew the lakambini years before Dumakulem did. I singled her out over the other mortal princesses in each of the harvest celebrations she attended; I plied her with compliments and made sure that she sat beside me, at the place of honor, in all the banquets."

"And did she reciprocate in any way?"

Lakan Danum could not answer.

"For all your charm, you know very little about women, Danum."

"I know enough, she was starting to like me," he countered petulantly, like a spoilt child.

And that was the great difference between Danum and Dumakulem, Dayang Maria realized.

"We cannot directly interfere, but we will not tolerate a battle between two gods, especially one that involves brothers. End it now, Danum, release your brother and his bride from your threat and do not take it any further."

She disappeared in a misty haze.

Lakan Danum shook his head and started to laugh. His plan was certainly working well, extremely well. The gods believed that his grievance with Dumakulem was merely a case of jealousy. Little did they know that his true objective was to rid the earth of all the deities.

He fully intended to choke the rivers and streams in the lowlands so that the mortals would not get a single drop of water. And which god would they call upon for the water to return? Certainly not Dumakulem, nor Mariang Makiling -- why, they would not even call upon the supreme ruler of the deities, Poong Bathaluman -- the people would call upon him, Lakan Danum. Of course, he would give them water, but only enough to keep them believing in his benevolence. In time, he would be the only god they would know, only his name would be on their lips, because all the other deities would have vanished for they would be forgotten.

Aman Sinaya's shimmering veil caught his eye, where it had fallen to the ground. It was passed on from mother to son and would then be given to the son's chosen bride, who would be received as a member of the royal household of the seas and entitled to its protection. Aman Sinaya had given it to the mountain-god, but Danum had demanded it from Dumakulem in exchange for the safety of the lowland waters. The river-guardian picked it up and carefully folded it; he would place the veil in Bighani's hands and once she draped it over her head as a sign of acceptance and obeisance, they would be wed. It would take more than just outrageous compliments to win her heart -- he never had to woo an unwilling maiden before, they were always so compliant -- it would be a challenge, but it would also be...intriguing.

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Bighani felt for the short dagger that lay hidden in her lufid, she had tucked it inside the waistband of the skirt and then worn a short jacket over it. She felt a semblance of comfort when her hand touched the cold blade.

"Remember, Lakambini, you must find a way to cut the palm of one of your hands just before Danum places the veil over them, a few drops of your blood on the cloth should be enough to invoke Aman Sinaya's help," Apo Galang said as he maneuvered the tiny boat they were in across the thick marshes of Poponto, the domain of the river-guardian.

"Once you have done so," he continued, "entreat the sea-goddess' help and Danum's curse on the highland streams will be broken, the waters will flow down once again, over the highlands and into the rivers and lakes in the lowlands. And if Danum tries to stop us..."

"My lakan will be there, to deal with him. I only hope it will not end in tragedy, Apo."

At last, after hours of pushing and pulling on the long oar that steered their tiny vessel, Apo Galang stopped at a sandy hollow of land.

"We are here."

No sooner had he spoken, when the lake-waters began to swirl around their boat, Igat's head and long neck rose above the eddy. The serpent smiled, his lethal fangs gleaming; a wave of water rose around him and began to spin, when it fell away, Lakan Danum stood in front of them, waist-deep in the marsh.

"You are just in time, Lakambini," he said, "everything has been prepared and before this day is over, you shall be my wife.'

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Dumakulem placed more rocks on the stone barrier he had built long ago, to stave off the river of lava and boulders that had cascaded down the sacred peaks. If Apo Galang's reading of the ancient scrolls was correct, then the streams would follow the ancient water route down the mountain, the barrier would ensure that the river would not overflow down onto the villages that hugged the cliff sides.

From his vantage point, he could see where his brother's kingdom began, the marshes of Poponto. He sighed, worry etched deeply into his scarred face. It took two days before he finally agreed to Apo Galang's plan, it was dangerous and would place his beloved at great risk, but it was Bighani, herself, who had finally persuaded him.

"Mahal," she said, "we both know that the survival of our people is tantamount. They cannot continue to live as pawns in Danum's games."

He looked at Bighani, seeing a side of her that the traders and the storytellers knew very little of; his beloved was beautiful and wise, but now, he found out that her courage was great -- possibly, even greater than his. He turned to his advisor.

"Are you sure of your findings, Apo?"

Apo Galang nodded. Dumakulem held out his hand to Bighani. She took it, entwining her fingers around his.

"It will be dangerous, my love, especially when Danum realizes what we are up to, he will not take it well, I should go with you," the mountain-god said.

"Lakan," the advisor interjected, "only you have the strength to make sure the walls and barrier stay in place and not breached, once the waters are freed from Danum's curse."

"He is right, mahal, and do not worry, our love is far stronger than Danum's power."

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Bighani clenched her left hand as tightly as she could, to keep the drops of blood from spilling over her fingers. She had managed to slice her palm just before the ceremony began and now, as she walked down to the edge of the great lake, Laguna, where Danum was waiting for her, she prayed to Mariang Makiling to give her strength.

Only an ancient babaylan and Apo Galang, who was leaning on the long oar, stood beside the river-guardian. When Bighani reached them, the old woman stepped forward, she held her hands over Bighani's head and mumbled an ancient prayer to Bathaluman to look favorably upon the union. As she lowered her hands, she stepped aside and nodded to Lakan Danum. He stepped closer to Bighani and unfolded Aman Sinaya's wedding mantle.

"Put out your hands, Lakambini, and receive the veil of my mother, Aman Sinaya. Drape it over your head to become my wife and you will be accepted into the fold of the sea-goddess, worthy of her guidance and protection."

Danum smiled as Bighani carefully raised her hands towards him, her right palm over her left. He draped the mantle over them and waited. He watched as Bighani bowed her head and pressed the veil to her breast and his smile grew even wider as she closed her eyes and whispered in prayer.

Suddenly, a sound like the crashing of boulders was heard from the mountains, it grew louder, its echoes rumbling across the great expanse of the lake.

The highland waters were free!

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Dumakulem gazed in wonder as the water, contained by the wall of rocks, flowed down the mountain, following the paths it had not traversed in ages. Never again would his people be held hostage by Danum. Striding down the cliffside, he made his way to the marshes of Poponto.

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"What have you done?" screamed Danum, as he grabbed Bighani's arms, "you would have had far greater riches and far more honor as my wife!"

He raised his hand to strike her, but he suddenly doubled over in pain, Apo Galang's long oar had struck him in the chest.

The advisor and Bighani ran to where the tiny boat that had ferried them across the Poponto was tethered, but before they could reach it, a huge form burst out from the water in front of them -- Igat!--his fangs bared in a terrifying sneer.

Apo Galang held the long oar in front of them, but he knew that it afforded little protection against the giant serpent.

Igat circled them, swaying menacingly at his prey. He drew back his head and opened his jaws, the fangs gleaming as he prepared to strike.

The advisor raised the oar up just as the serpent lunged forward -- but Igat's head snapped backward -- Dumakulem had yanked his tail from behind.

Igat twisted his long body and started to coil its length around Dumakulem's arm, squeezing tightly. The mountain-god flexed the iron-hard muscles of his captured arm; hoping to dislodge the serpent.

"Look out, Dumakulem!" Bighani's voice rang out just in time, as the mountain-god caught the serpent's head with his free hand just before it could bury its fangs into his shoulder.

"Surrender, Igat," he said, "nothing good will come out of this battle."

"Never!" the serpent hissed, "you wanted water for your people, Dumakulem? Now they shall have so much of it, they will die in its depths."

The serpent whipped his tail, delivering a stinging blow to the mountain god's knees, Dumakulem fell forward and Igat uncoiled himself.

"Now you can watch as all of the tribes drown!" he jeered and disappeared into the water.

Bighani ran into Dumakulem's arms, while Apo Galang stared up at the highlands.

What did Danum mean?

Suddenly, a sound like rushing water reverberated from the sacred peaks. Bighani looked up and from afar, she saw a huge wave of water coming down from Mount Apo.

"No, no, no," screamed Apo Galang, "Danum has released all the other streams at the same time; the wall and the barrier at the cliff edge will be breached...the villages will be inundated!"

Dumakulem released the maiden and started for the highlands, but both she and Galang held him back.

"Lakan, you cannot stop the water, only the river-guardian can command it," the advisor said.

For the only time in his long life, Dumakulem felt defeated -- all the tribes, his people and Bighani's would all drown -- and there was nothing he could do.

Bighani, too, felt hopeless.

"Is there nothing else?"she asked Apo Galang.

The old man fell to his knees and shook his head.

Bighani looked down at Aman Sinaya's veil which she still clutched; she saw the blood stains, her blood stains, and remembered what she had whispered when Danum had placed the cloth in her hands: