Chapter Forty-Four: Penance and Pretense

Chapter Forty-Four: Penance and Pretense

Chamiaholom underwent a truly gruesome transformation.NewW novels updates at novelhall.com

Bones surged from under her frail flesh and covered around every inch of her skin. Ribs coiled around her chest as impenetrable armor. A pale white helmet closed over her head in a single bite, its sinister grin full of sharp teeth. A dozen spikes erupted from her shoulders, each a totem of piled-up children’s skulls. Strong plates protected her arms, legs, and belly. She towered over me now, her sunken black eyes shining with malice.

The transformation lasted less than an instant. In fact, it happened so swiftly that hardly a drop of blood managed to touch the ground before the bone armor encased Chamiaholom’s flesh in its deadly embrace.

“How do you find me, sweetheart?” the hag asked me. She deserved the nickname more than ever now. “Am I not beautiful?”

The creature that stared at me was no longer a frail old woman, but a terror straight out of a children’s bedtime tale: a fanged, skeletal crone with nails longer than swords and a crown of vicious horns. The evil inside her had come out in its full, hideous grandeur.

“I would say fearsome,” I replied with genuine admiration. I studied the armor while looking for any flaws or openings. I only found four: two holes for the eyes and two for the nose to breathe through. “Is this the true form of the Bonecraft spell?”

“Indeed, dear. All bone paths lead to the ossuary armor. The perfect defense combined with the strongest attack.”

She waved her hand at the table with frightening speed. Her sharp nails cut through her furniture like an obsidian blade through flesh. One slice tore it apart into many pieces.

“If you craft it well, dear, then you will lose none of your speed,” Chamiaholom boasted. “Bones can be both stronger than iron and lighter than feathers.”

No human could harm me in a shell of bone like this. It might even frighten the Nightkin, since their immense strength would struggle to break past it. However, I noted a few impractical aspects of this transformation.

“Are the spikes truly needed?” I asked while pointing at the totem poles on her shoulders. Parading children's skulls might intimidate human opponents, but it wouldn’t help me cut through the Nightlords’ withered hearts.

“Everyone’s armor is different, dear. It brings out your inner demon, you see?” She raised one of her sharp nails at my owl mask. “Methinks yours will have a beak for a nose.”

An idea immediately crossed my mind. “Is it possible to combine this spell alongside Spiritual Manifestation?”

“Yes you may, if you are an accomplished sorcerer with divine power to spare,” she replied with a chuckle. “Do not skip the steps, my bold child. Steady preparation makes for the sweetest kill.”

I feared as much. I doubted I could use the armor at all in my current state above ground. I simply lacked the bone mass required to fuel the transformation, and I would need at least Tlaloc’s embers to complete it with Spiritual Manifestation.

“Since you are still alive, dear, the form your soul takes partly depends on your youthful body’s health and shape,” Chamiaholom said. “I would wait until you have doubled your bone mass before you try to manifest it in either world. You must eat to grow tall and strong.”

I supposed I would have to ask the palace’s kitchen to change my diet. I recalled that Necahual suggested drinking llama milk to patients who had suffered from broken bones. A few drinks a day should help me thicken my skeleton without being detected.

“Please teach me at least partial transformation,” I said. “If I can individually manifest the armor’s parts, then I should have an easy time summoning the full set once I am ready for it.”

“Clever bird.” Chamiaholom unbid her ossuary armor as swiftly as she summoned it. The bones contracted and retreated back into her body just as fast as they appeared. The hag’s tattered robes showed crimson holes near the spine and her forehead was drenched in blood, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. “Your mother asked me the same thing once.”

I couldn’t suppress my curiosity. “Did she ask for other things too?”

“Oh, sweetheart, she asked me for many, many terrible things.” The hag glanced at the bones where I marked my victims’ names. “Did you like the Ride spell?”

“You taught it to Mother?” It made some sense. It too involved manipulating bones as part of its process.

“She had more time to spend learning with me than you, and good old Chamioholom knows a few ways to make old ribs sing.” The hag smiled kindly at me, though there were teeth behind her wrinkled lips. “Most will bore you, I’m afraid, and not all will help you on your quest. I hope you return to me once you triumph. I will show you darkness so thick light itself vomits in disgust at the sight of it... for a tiny little price.”

I dared not ask what an embodiment of human cruelty would barter for in exchange for her knowledge. The First Emperor’s codex had warned me that the Lords of Terror exacted a terrible toll. The tests I had gone through so far were but an initiation course for would-be demons. Those with time to spend could probably learn much over the years.

But I had neither the desire to stay in Xibalba longer than necessary nor the time.

“You must start the transformation from where the frontier between your bones and skin is the thinnest, namely your spine and skull,” Chamiaholom advised me. “Beginning elsewhere means your bones will damage your flesh on their way out. Let your Tonalli guide you. The shape of your soul will determine that of your body;”

I followed her words and spent the next few hours or so practicing her exercises. I consumed the ribs offered to me and slimmed my skeleton under Chamiaholom’s guidance, then I had them erupt from below my skin in various places. I enclosed my chest, head, arms, and legs in a thick plate of bone one after the other, but never all at once. My lips vanished under a maw of sharp fangs and my nails became claws. Then I reworked those bones into a double layer of impenetrable ribs protecting my chest. My burning blood dripped from many holes along my spine and arms within an hour’s time.

“Remember to keep your internal structure intact, sweetheart,” Chamiaholom advised. “If a powerful blow sends shockwaves through your thick skin and damages your poor heart, then your armor will become a tomb rather than your protection.”

I closed my eyes and forced the ossuary armor’s latest part to return inside my body. To my annoyance, partially manifesting it was proving to be utterly impractical. I would bleed out if I could not summon the entire armor at once and immediately plug the gaps in it.

I cannot do this halfway. How long would it take to gather the necessary bone mass to sustain the entire armor undetected? Days? Weeks? I better start improving my bone structure the moment I wake up.

“The rest, you must learn by yourself, sweetheart,” the hag said with a small sigh. “It saddens me to see you go so swiftly, but every bird must leave the nest one day. Your next trial awaits.”

I couldn’t say the same for myself. Chamiaholom’s casual cruelty unnerved me almost as much as the Nightlords. Still, I was grateful for the gift she had provided me. I had the feeling that Bonecraft would swiftly become a key part of my arsenal.

“I thank you for your tutelage,” I said from the bottom of my heart. “I shall make good use of your spell.”

“I know that sweetheart. Kill and torture as you see fit.” She gently stroked my cheek with what could pass for motherly pride. “I am not worried about you. You will become a fearsome monster. In time, all will know your terrible name.”

“So long as it sends fear in the Nightlords’ hearts,” I replied.

“It will.” Her smirk sent shivers down my spine. “Oh, and one last thing...”

I froze in place and braced myself for whatever new horror she had thought up. “Yes?”

“Don’t forget to rape Necahual whenever you have the opportunity,” the hag said with a vicious wink. “She fears bearing your child as much as she fears losing her daughter.”

A wave of visceral disgust coursed through my body. Worst of all, the taunt got under my skin because it was almost certainly true. I thought back to how Iztacoatl treated me in her blood bath. Necahual probably felt the same way whenever she spent time in my company, except Iztacoatl hadn’t compelled me to carnal relationships yet. Just the thought made my skin crawl.

I knew that an apothecary like Necahual knew how to avoid complications, but I still felt sick.

I angrily took to the door without a word while Chamiaholom cackled behind me. Her cruel laughter followed me even after I stepped beyond the threshold and into a wall of mist.

I found myself right back inside Xibalba’s twisted streets before I knew it. An exact replica of the crossroads of misty doors I had taken to enter the Rattling House opened before me. Xibalba’s pyramid loomed under the gray sky north of my position, only slightly closer to me than after my previous trial.

At least I’m making progress. I checked the area for any sign of a landmark or sign. I found none, though I sensed invisible eyes watching me from the empty shadows. The impenetrable purple miasma covering my four potential exits let nothing through. I see no hint as to where Mother’s sanctuary might be, and I’m not sure that I will have time enough to reach it before I wake up.

Should I walk towards the pyramid? I decided against it. The last time I tried that sent me straight to the Rattling House. If Xibalba followed any form of logic, then traveling north would start another trial. However, nothing differentiated the other exits.

What if I went back? I peeked over my shoulder and at the misty archway I used to leave the Rattling House. Will it send me back to Chamiaholom? Would I have to pass her trial again? Or was it a trick? It would be quite ironic if I had to travel backward into known danger to find a safe haven.

With little to lose, I decided to test my theory.

I stepped through the archway I had just exited. A cloud of fog enveloped me in an instant, shrouding my sight and numbing my senses. The owl inside me awoke in alarm.

The stone softened under my feet, but unlike the Rattling House it didn’t turn to ice. Instead, I recognized a very familiar sensation, one completely unexpected in the Underworld: the feeling of grass brushing against my skin. Reality shifted to welcome me into one of Xibalba’s hidden domains.

A warm burst of wind blew the miasma away. I had to raise my hand to protect my eyes from a sudden influx of light; and when my gaze adjusted to the luminosity I could hardly believe what I saw. I used the Gaze spell to lift any illusion that might have clouded my sight. It failed to clear anything.

A land of flowers bloomed under a clear blue sky.

I had no words for the spectacle unfolding before my eyes. Lush grasslands bordered by rich rainforest and glittering streams sprawled in all directions. A warm wind rolled clouds above thick vines. The noise of chittering birds and animal cries filled my ears. I observed groups of deer run across green fields and hares flee at my approach into beds of orchids. A great longneck stopped drinking at a nearby water just long enough to study me with placid, innocent eyes.

A world teeming with life welcomed me. Here, in the darkest corner of the Underworld. I had entered a paradise nested in hell’s heart.

So why did the owl inside me cower in fear?

As much as I disliked my mother-in-law, I thought it best to alleviate her burden in any way I could. A gift ought to help a little.

Once the maids finished dressing me, I prepared to go visit the Parliament of Skulls when Chikal stopped me on my way out of my quarters.

“You should ponder what I told you yesterday,” she said. “On the burden of the powerful.”

I could read between the lines. Chikal had asked me yesterday what I intended to do if I ever defeated the Nightlords.

Truthfully, I hardly cared about anything beyond that point. I was climbing a mountain so tall I couldn’t see what lay beyond its peak. I needed to reach the summit before I could think of what awaited me there.

Whatever the case, I would not return to my old life. I had no desire to rule, and if I indeed became powerful enough to deal with the vampires and their divine progenitor somehow, then I would have no need to become a merchant or serve the empire to survive. The privilege of the mighty was to do as they wanted.

“I will think about it,” I replied before leaving my quarters. I wondered what my predecessors would have to say about Yohuachanca’s fate once the Nightlords perished. Perhaps they had a vision of what would follow its collapse.

After so many days confined to my room, it felt good to return to the Reliquary. This place had become my refuge and my predecessors my mentors; the one place where I could freely speak my mind. Even the morning breeze felt refreshingly comforting when I walked across the rooftop.

“The sisters have lost a battle,” the wind ominously whispered in my ear, “But now they know there is a war.”

As far as warnings went, that one sounded as clear as water.

Still, it failed to sour my mood as I walked inside the Reliquary. It hadn’t changed at all since my last visit. Neither the eruption nor the last days’ events had bothered my predecessors’ skulls. I had half expected a quarter of them to drop to dust upon news of Yoloxochitl’s death, but I supposed it would take more to break the chains binding them to this world.

I sat in the darkness as I had done many times before.

The skulls’ eyes did not shine.

That detail immediately put me on edge. My predecessors always welcomed me with ghostfire gazes when I visited them. The bones in front of me neither burned nor moved. They seemed... inert.

Had Yoloxochitl’s demise freed their ghosts from their prison? No, that couldn’t be. The past emperors kept my Teyolia’s divine nature shrouded from the Nightlords’ sight. If they had gone on to their peaceful rest in Mictlan, then I would have been exposed. So why?

I finally heard a whisper coming from the darkness.

“Do not move, Iztac Ce Ehecatl,” my predecessors said. “A spy hides in our midst.”

My heart skipped a beat, but a month of practice had taught me to hide my emotions well. I did not move an inch. The past emperors' skulls continued to pretend to be inert as their words echoed in my head.

“Look to your right in the bottom corner,” my predecessors ordered. “One of us is missing his teeth. See what hides there.”

I slowly and subtly pretended to remove a speck of dust from my clothes. As I did, I took a sideway glance in the direction that my predecessors pointed at. I noticed the skull they spoke of and the reptilian eye staring at me from the shadows within.

A serpent hid there. A white serpent.

Iztacoatl.

My blood boiled in my veins. I took a deep breath and pretended to stare into the darkness in quiet concentration. For perhaps the first time since the beginning of my imprisonment, I actually meditated inside the Reliquary. It helped quell my frustration.

In spite of all my attempts to pretend otherwise, one of my captors had grown suspicious of the Reliquary. My only haven in this gods-forsaken prison was now compromised. If I had been overconfident or failed to pick up on the clues, then I would have exposed myself here and there.

“Listen carefully, our successor,” the skulls whispered so low I could barely hear them. “The snake cannot hear us, but it can hear you. ”

Of course. The previous emperors could communicate with me because I was a Tlacatecolotl, a messenger of death. Neither normal men nor Nahualli heard their whispers. I couldn’t say the same for my words.

I sat in silence and listened to my predecessors. Their six-hundred voices brimmed with an emotion I was unused to: gratitude.

“We are very proud of what you have achieved,” they said. “You have done the impossible and loosened our chains. You have much left to accomplish, but know that we are forever thankful. No matter what may come, we will continue to guide you on the battles to come... and we know how to win this one.”

I closed my eyes and listened attentively.

“The White Snake cannot stand boredom, our successor. She craves surprise to lessen the monotony of her long years. Come each day to the Reliquary, sit, and say nothing. Make it an unwavering routine, dull and forgettable. She will eventually lose interest and this place will once again become a refuge for you.”

Boring. My predecessors asked me to become boring.

How long would it take to foster an immortal vampire’s disinterest? Days? Weeks? Months? Whatever the answer was, it would be too much. Being unable to speak my mind would greatly limit how much I could ask my predecessors. I needed to find another way to communicate with them.

“Iztacoatl will grow suspicious if you stay here too long, so listen to what we have to say,” my predecessors whispered in the dark. “The White Snake is not like her sisters. She may underestimate you, but she will never mistake you for harmless; pretending to be will only make her distrust you more. Whereas the Jaguar Woman answers vulnerability with anger and brutality, Iztacoatl responds with caution and paranoia.”

She was definitely more careful and insightful than her sisters for certain. None of them had even considered putting spies in the Reliquary before, let alone something as small and insidious as a snake. How could I outwit someone with limitless resources and no arrogance to blind her?

The skulls sensed my unease and comforted me. “Many of us have matched wits with her, Iztac, and a few bested her too,” they said. “Her weakness and strength are one and the same: her curiosity.”

I recalled my previous interactions with Iztacoatl. She had always sought to unnerve and surprise me like a feline probing for a reaction. She liked to play with her food to stave off her boredom and used her keen insight to draw her conclusions.

Moreover, I remembered the time she and the other Nightlords bet on which concubine I would sleep with first. I hadn’t thought much of her casual cruelty back then, but now I realized that Iztacoatl took pleasure in mind games. She also mentioned regretting Sigrun’s demise because she found her schemes interesting and wished that Ingrid would prove just as entertaining.

“To defeat Iztacoatl, you must be like a street performer who distracts a crowd with one hand to better hide a theft with the other,” the Parliament suggested. “Make moves that will baffle and confuse her. She will seek meaning where there is none and see plots behind every coincidence. Make it a game where she wins meaningless battles every so often and believes herself in control, while she slowly concedes the true war.”

I would have nodded in assent if I could, but the best I could do was to open my eyes. I understood what I had to do.

“Leave now, before the serpent grows suspicious,” the skulls said. “We shall discuss the matter of Yoloxochitl’s garden and the First Emperor tomorrow. Our knowledge on both is limited, but we can offer clues.”

I rose to my feet in silence and wiped the dust off my robes. The snake continued to watch me from the shadows without making a sound. No normal animal would show that kind of focus, nor record information on behalf of another. I couldn’t hear its breath either, if it had any.

I recalled Yoloxochitl’s cruel flowers and the red-eyed priests. If the Nightlords could enslave plants and men with their blood, why not animals too?

“Our wishes are with you, our successor,” the Parliament of Skulls told me before I crossed the threshold. “Be patient. Our time will come.”

Yes, it would.

I walked outside the Reliquary and stepped near the rooftop’s edge. The breeze blowing on my face carried the smell of fire. Smoke Mountain had calmed down in the distance, though its clouds of dust continued to obscure the sky.

I would have paid dearly to cast the Augury spell and interrogate the Yaotzin on the battle to come, but I couldn’t risk being overheard. I would need to proceed with extreme caution so long as Iztacoatl showed any interest in the Reliquary.

This visit had proved helpful nonetheless. The more I pondered my foe’s behavior so far, the more my predecessors’ wisdom rang true.

Iztacoatl couldn’t resist the lure of novelty. She yearned for surprise, for the thrill of uncovering a secret and outplaying the poor mortals she tormented in a duel of wits. Her greater experience meant that I had little hope of beating her in a straightforward confrontation.

The keyword being straightforward.

Iztacoatl would never lower her guard around me, but I could distract her. All I had to do was throw her the right bone to keep her occupied while I secretly amassed more resources from the shadows. The previous emperors suggested making moves that would leave her baffled, to overwhelm her with nonsense and confusion. A few ideas came to mind.

Iztacoatl wanted a break from her monotony, so I would give it to her.

I would show her chaos.