Chapter Eighty-One: Chilam

Chapter Eighty-One: Chilam

I looked down upon my father’s skull, my eyes shining with sunlight and my words carrying a ruler's authority.

“Lie to me,” I ordered.

“I...” It said something about Father that he had to think over the command for half a minute before coming up with the most harmless lie possible. “I... I do not like turkey meat?”

My Gaze brightened with golden light. A wisp of smoke emerged from the mouth of his skull, like a cloud of corruption escaping him; as it did when I asked the Parliament of Skulls to deceive me earlier. The lie they came up with had been subtler and more insidious than Father’s, but no less visible to my spell.

“I can see falsehoods,” I confirmed upon canceling the Gaze. “My spell not only pierces through magical illusions, but common deceit too.”

“A useful ability,” my predecessors commented. “Albeit one best used sporadically in conjunction with the Veil.”

I nodded and meditated upon our new findings. Besides the Gaze’s new application, my Curse feathers had grown more potent and vibrant, which suggested that they had gained a greater pull over destiny. I couldn’t thoroughly test it nor the Haunt within Tlaloc’s domain, as the god would not tolerate me putting a malediction on his lands and chosen souls, but I would have plenty of targets to choose from when I returned to the waking world. Same with the Pit, which I had yet to try out and should sacrifice a chosen target to Xibalba. I could find a red-eyed priest or two to ‘volunteer’ to test these spells on my behalf.

Otherwise, much like the Doll spell, the Fall’s function hadn’t changed much besides increasing in strength; I’d managed to uproot a tree and send it flying away in the sky, among other things. The Slice cut slightly deeper and the Cloak’s winds blew harder, but nowhere near as much as I would have expected. I supposed that since those spells relied on outside forces—namely, the hatred and adoration of the masses respectively—rather than my own strength to function, my own surge in power wouldn’t affect their potency.

Which left only the Ride and the Tomb to check out next. I decided to try out the latter after I left Tlalocan to avoid damaging it and enticing its master’s wrath, and I considered how to use the former. Mother warned me that the spell wouldn’t work on red-eyed priests nor Nightspawn due to the vampiric curse providing a degree of protection, but if my magic had grown strong enough to bypass it, then...

I felt the sting of wakefulness at the edge of my mind, far too early to my liking.

“I will wake up soon,” I warned my father and predecessors with undisguised frustration. “My nights are getting shorter.”

Not only did my inhuman vitality delay the need for rest, but it also reduced the sleep that my body required. I’d been struck with a curse disguised as a blessing.

“We feared as much,” the past emperors said. “We shall begin to count the hours the next time you fall asleep. What can be measured can be improved.”

“We ought to visit your mother on your next visit,” Father argued. “While I understand that you may feel uneasy around her, I think we should consult her. She must know a way to ease your journey.”

“Mayhaps,” I replied without too much enthusiasm. While I had no love left for my mother, I couldn’t argue with Father’s logic. I needed to find a way to address the sleeping problem without arousing suspicions.

My already precious time was only growing shorter.

I woke up as we arrived near Chilam.

We had to travel through a sinuous stone road, crossing dense marshes that reminded me of the Underworld’s First Layer until the peak of the city’s grand temple appeared to us looming over the trees. Rows upon rows of spears were lined up along the path; according to Chikal, they were memorials to fallen amazon sisters who died protecting the city across the ages.

I doubted anyone would have found their way through the dense jungle without the narrow road; and even then, I immediately felt watched as our procession advanced across it. I’d heard stone highways connected amazon cities together while allowing their people to set ambushes for travelers who hadn’t paid their due. I wondered how many armies had vanished here, their soldiers’ corpses left to rot and sink in the surrounding bogs.

The spears along the road attested to the hefty tributes the amazons paid for their independence; and even then, it hadn’t been enough to keep Yohuachanca’s armies at bay forever.

We eventually rode past one of the four cenotes that fueled the city’s water supply and great blocky masonry, basalt walls covered in mosaics of monstrous faces meant to discourage invaders. A good chunk of them had fallen under outside assault, but most of it remained standing. I could almost imagine the moment when Chikal decided to negotiate with Yohuachanca rather than continue a doomed fight upon seeing the damage.

Chilam itself was no bustling capital, but it was no small city either. The vast settlement housed several pyramids and structures several floors up, each of them precisely connected to each of the four cenotes that served as the amazons’ water reservoirs. I caught a glimpse of a ballcourt and plazas filled with women-run markets. Besides the absence of men, Chilam’s civilization didn’t look too different from the rest of Yohuachanca.

However, I quickly noticed a few details that set it apart from my empire’s other cities. Most actual houses and huts were built from wood and stood on pillars dug into the earth, perhaps to avoid flooding. Palisades protected farmland and gardens were tended to by men with slave collars, all of them working under the careful watch of women warriors with leashes and spears; the males’ faces were hidden behind wooden masks covering their entire heads except for the eyes and mouths.

“Fathers and brothers all,” the wind whispered in my ear. “Never allowed to love or fight, only to fear.”

I watched it all from my longneck’s balcony as a small crowd of female warriors escorted our procession to the main pyramid. I’d originally intended to enter the city riding on Itzili’s back, but Chikal demanded that we instead arrive on the longneck together so I wouldn’t overshadow her in front of her own people. By sharing the same vehicle and climbing down together, we would appear as equals rather than imply a hierarchy.

I noticed that many of the younger women gave me strange looks—some intrigued, some disapproving. I had the distinct impression a few of them had never seen a non-slave male’s visage in their entire lives, let alone an emperor waving at them from a roving mansion’s balcony.

“Most men aren’t allowed to show their faces, to avoid tempting young amazons astray,” Chikal explained to me as she joined me on the balcony. “Yohuachancan prisoners were freed as part of our treaty, so most of the men you now see were taken from the Sapa or lesser jungle tribes.”

Which explained the looks. I was probably the first maskless man that many of these women ever saw.

“All they see is their enemy,” the wind whispered in my ear. “The oppressor, the conqueror, who took them through numbers and guile rather than strength of arms. Do you hear their knives sharpened behind your back?”

“I see,” I replied without elaborating. The sight of masked slaves never became easier to me—especially since I couldn’t help but see myself in those people denied their freedom and identity—but the laws of Chilam were far older than I was and I required its people’s assistance. Criticizing their way of life in the open would not win me any friends. “I will do my best not to tempt your citizens then.”

My words amused Chikal to no end. “Quite the contrary, Iztac. I would rather that you tempt them.”

I raised an eyebrow, with my consort leaning on me to whisper her plans in my ear. Little of it surprised me. I’d already reached similar conclusions from my discussions with Lahun.

“Can I count on your cooperation?” Chikal asked me.

“Of course.” I boldly put one of my arms around her waist in front of her fellow amazons and waved to them with the other. “Anything for my beloved.”

Recognizing my move for what it was, Chikal smiled in amusement as she imitated me. The effect was as I expected: many amazons looked up to us in shock as their queen and a male stood before them not as master and servant, not as conqueror and conquered, but as equals. It was a sight that likely spooked many of them to their core.

Our longneck’s destination, Chikal’s palace, could be held within a wing of my own. It only had two floors elevated on a limestone platform and nine doors separated by stone pillars, though its facade was elegantly decorated with beads, birds, and feather motifs. Layered tree trunks formed the roof. An elderly woman of advanced age awaited us in front of the main stairway, wearing old skins, golden bracelets, and a crocodile’s skull over her head. She leaned on a staff to bend her back in submission once our delegation climbed down our mount.

Of my consorts and concubines, only Chikal, Ingrid, Tenoch, and Lahun emerged from the longneck after me; and the latter two did so in their position as handmaidens to the former. The others remained aboard, either because the sight of a blinded slave like Chindi would send the wrong message to the locals, or because they simply wished for solitude in Nenetl’s case. My sister still required time to figure things out when it came to our situation, so I assented to her wish.

Most importantly, all of our guards were amazons from Chikal’s retinue. I had successfully argued that bringing in masked males with weapons and red-eyed priests would aggravate the population we aimed to pacify and incorporate, which ought to give us a rare day of privacy.

Chikal had otherwise briefed me on how her people treated their elders. When an amazon grew too old to fight, they instead entered retirement as advisors to the royal family. This council possessed a certain pull in Chilam’s affairs, though little binding power. I was expected to treat them with respect, which I would.

“Welcome home, Your Majesty,” the old woman said. Though she bowed in front of Chikal and me, I knew she only respected one of us. “All of Chilam rejoices at your visit.”

“Does it, Ixmucan?” Chikal asked with a knowing look. “I have heard of unrest among my sisters-in-battle.”

“A few fools still resent Your Majesty for surrendering to Yohuachanca.” The old woman turned to face me, her ancient eyes appraising me with suspicion. “The coming of their emperor does not inspire joy, I must say. To be blunt, Your Majesty, you should not expect applause.”

This one was honest at least. I had almost forgotten what it sounded like among all the flatterers and deceivers in court.

“I will be sure to remind them of the honor my visit represents,” I replied. “And I have a need for true warriors. If they have the strength to complain, let them showcase it with blades in hands and capturing men worthy of them.”

While I wasn’t particularly approving of Chilam’s traditions, I knew better than to say so out loud. Attacking a people’s way of life was the surest bet to encourage rebellion, and I mostly required loyalty for now.

“A few hotheads will jump at Your Majesty’s proposal,” Ixmucan replied with skepticism. “Most will resent serving a male.”

I immediately noticed changes compared to Necahual’s own ritual. My blood did more than bind the disparate body parts together; it crawled its way into Lahun’s veins and caused them to glow as it traveled through them. It flowed and coursed like water entering a welcoming riverbed, or seeds putting down roots in fertile soil.

I would expect the experience to be painful, for few appreciated fire in their veins. A look at Lahun’s face convinced me otherwise. Her scowl of intense pain had transformed into a daze of rapturous pleasure. It briefly reminded me of the expression victims of the vampire kiss boasted on their faces after a feeding. I supposed both experiences weren’t too far apart.

I placed my bleeding palm against Lahun’s chest, her skin burning and fuming at my touch. It drew a cry of pleasure out of my concubine. My owl-totem stirred within my soul as its talons eagerly closed in on a new slave’s spirit.

“Lahun of Chilam,” I declared. “I am Tlacatecolotl, the owl-fiend of disaster. I hold your life within my very hands, and now I demand your soul.”

I sensed her Teyolia and Tonalli answering my call. My fingers sank into her soft flesh and slipped through her ribs until I could sense her beating heart thundering beneath my palm.

“I shall claim your name and soul for myself, so that you may serve and worship me for all eternity,” I told Lahun. “In exchange, I shall grant you the power you crave. I shall bestow upon you the spark of true magic and pleasures forbidden to all mortals. I shall make you a Mometzcopinque, a slave-wife, and seer to the rising god.”

I leaned over her, one hand grasping her heart, the other caressing her face.

“Will you be mine?” I asked, my breath on her lips. “Will you gaze into the abyss of magic with me until death do us part?”

“Yes,” Lahun whispered through the daze of pleasure and pain. “I shall serve you forevermore... Your Majesty.”

The pact was sealed, and her soul belonged to me.

My Teyolia flowed into her own, filling her heart with my malice and grandeur. I bound her spirit to mine in a kinship deeper than family and stronger than love. A leash of magic joined us in a union of power.

My strength became her own and reshaped her body in the same way it had transformed Necahual. Her shoulder-legs unfolded into ebon wings and her thigh-arms into owlish talons. However, where Necahual had sharpened as inner ferocity became manifest, Lahun underwent a subtler change. Her eyes grew more focused, her curiosity shining through, while other traits became more aquiline and almost wiser.

I swiftly realized that the Mometzcopinque ritual either brought a person’s self to the forefront or reflected part of my own thoughts. Necahual had been an echo of my savagery, wild and untamed; while Lahun’s transformation showcased our shared inquisitiveness.

Moreover, I barely noticed my own strength diminishing; either Lahun took much less than Necahual, which I doubted, or the well of power I could draw upon had simply grown deep indeed since I absorbed a second set of embers.

I strongly leaned towards the latter. The Nightlords had siphoned away from their malevolent sire for over six centuries, and he still surpassed all of them in might. Infusing a Mometzcopinque would have tremendously diminished me when the waters of my soul were no more than a pond, but now that it was a lake it didn’t make as big of a difference.

Whatever the case, I now owned Lahun’s flesh and soul. I could see it in her gaze when I removed my hand from her chest and watched her wounds heal in an instant; the awareness of the unbreakable bond of servitude between us and the understanding that there would be no backing down.

However, I didn’t detect doubt or remorse in Lahun. Quite the contrary. When she raised her wings and watched fire and lightning course through her new feathers, she knew that she had made the right choice.

“This is... exhilarating...” I heard her mutter to herself, her breath short and yet so heavy. “So this is the power that was bestowed upon Lady Necahual.”

“Yours are my fire and lightning, and I granted you wings to fly with,” I said. “My power is yours to wield as you see fit, and your life is mine to dispose of as I wish.”

“I understand,” she replied with an obedient nod. “Your Majesty was true to his word, and so I will serve him.”

I studied her face for a moment with the Gaze and saw no lie. Lahun was a creature of honor in a way, who respected the laws of fate and the gods. She had sworn an oath and would live by its tenets.

“My Necahual is your eldest and my favorite among your new sisterhood,” I warned Lahun. “Should she ask anything of you, I expect you to fulfill her demands.”

I accepted her loyalty and prepared to rise up when her talons grabbed my shoulders.

“If I may make a request to Your Majesty...” Lahun’s legs spread open to welcome me. “Now that my eyes are open, I must see.”

A smile stretched on my lips as my hands grabbed her waist and undid my robes. When she asked so nicely, how could I deny her a glimpse of magic?

I took Lahun on the carpet, skipping through preliminaries and moving straight towards the meat of our union. The fact that my blood coursed through both of our veins eased up the Seidr ritual, as did the bond between our souls. We were parts reunited into an almighty whole.

The visions came easily; sights of a ruined temple filled with sand and ashes where stood a ring-shaped doorway of spiraling bones and wood enclosing on swirling winds. I recognized the Gate of the Twin-Breaths.

The memory grew more vivid, and I saw a shadow standing in front of it; a familiar witch with ebon wings and eyes of ice.

Mother.

Of course she would have visited this place and kept that information from me. She hoarded secrets and whatever that could give her an advantage.

If she had studied the gate... did she also figure out its key?

The vision ended before I could wonder further, with my soul returning to my body as I spilled my seed on Lahun’s thighs. I heard her gasp beneath me as faint smoke arose from between her legs.

“Your Majesty...” she looked into my eyes with unbound curiosity. “What was that place?”

I briefly wondered about keeping her in the dark and pondered my options. The less she knew, the less she might spill if interrogated... but on the other hand, her life and soul were now tied to mine. Lahun had no choice but to fight at my side against the Nightlords if she hoped to survive.

Moreover, she had a keen intellect, a natural talent for the occult arts, and a certain amount of honor which I respected. I figured we would be better served if I pointed her curiosity and wisdom in the right direction. I should encourage her to search for knowledge that would serve my needs in exchange for greater rewards.

“That is the door to Lord Quetzacoatl’s realm,” I replied.

Lahun’s eyes widened in astonishment. “The feathered serpent himself?”

“I am due to visit him so that he might bestow his favor upon me, but a divinity does not allow even a Godspeaker in his presence without trials.” I avoided mentioning the Underworld or the context of the trial itself—no one knew that the dead suns lingered underground, and most believed that the gods simply resided in the heavens above. “This gate is locked, and I must find its key to secure my audience.”

I couldn’t tell her more to avoid the Nightlords learning of dangerous information, but that morsel of information was enough. The mere fact that I spoke so casually about earning an audience with a creator god already earned me Lahun’s respect and fascination.

“I see...” Lahun pondered my words for a moment. “The feathered serpent is an ancient deity, with a wealth of lore to his name; some of it contained within these very archives. If Your Majesty wishes, I can research it.”

“Yes, you shall,” I replied. “Only a Godspeaker can be allowed in a god’s presence, but the favor Quetzalcoatl will bestow upon me shall spill over to you too.”

Lahun met my eyes and nodded in sincere gratitude. “Your Majesty already blessed me more than I could ever imagine.”

I had given her a glimpse of the world’s true secrets, and she would never stop working to learn more. She would serve me so long as I kept her hungry.

Another thought occupied my mind as I pulled away from her though. All the signs and visions pointed in the same direction, which I could no longer ignore or delay.

I needed to meet with my wench of a mother again.