Blood & Fur

Chapter Eighty: The Long Night

I’d spent the evening watching a play with Lahun at her request.

I’d grown somewhat tired of simple dances, so I had asked her what she usually enjoyed back in Chilam. Lahun had answered theater, of all things.

By a stroke of luck, some of the amazons that served as my consorts’ personal guards knew how to perform. I wouldn’t say that their talent rivaled the capital’s best entertainers—quite the opposite—but it was sufficient enough to intrigue me. Chilam’s traditions focused more on short comic scenes, like fools suffering from diseases or beatings than elaborate stories. I was quite surprised that a composed scholar like Lahun would be into such things.

Not that I paid much attention. I couldn’t get the possibility of the Nightlords being Mometzcopinques out of my head.

The more I considered it, the more it made sense. Those four were leeches through and through. My predecessors thought that a Mometzcopinque couldn’t cast spells, but Necahual already showed the aptitude to create lightning; it wouldn’t surprise me if another set of embers would allow her to use the Doll or Veil.

This would also explain how the Nightlords had managed to bind a god. They had reversed the bond that united a patron spirit with its coven of witches, draining their father’s lifeforce and using their numbers to form an unbreakable equilibrium. A lender always had more influence over one debtor than a multitude of them.

Which presented a key issue: could the same thing happen to me?

The rewards of recruiting more spellcasters outweighed the risks so far, but I would need to do more research on the subject after binding Lahun’s soul. I trusted her and Necahual to remain loyal to me until we destroyed the Nightlords at least, if only because all of our lives depended on it.

Afterwards… I believed that my bond with Necahual was strong like an oak, but I would bet the First Emperor thought the same right until his daughters betrayed him. Would a lover be more loyal than one’s own flesh and blood?

I wasn’t blind to the similarities my life shared with that of the First Emperor. Was Fate subtly nudging me into settling into my predecessor’s role? I would be lying if I said the possibility didn’t bother me.

“Is Your Majesty bored with the performance?” Lahun asked me, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Far from it,” I replied while pulling her naked body closer to mine. “I was merely too focused on you, Lahun.”

My answer seemed to amuse her. “Your Majesty’s words honor me, but I didn’t take him for a flatterer.”

“I do appreciate your company,” I insisted. “But to tell you the truth, I was too preoccupied with our future. We are to visit your hometown tomorrow, and then wage war the day after.”

Chilam, as Yohuachanca's latest and most southern tributary, would be our final stop before reaching the frontier of the Sapa Empire and the chosen site for the Flower War. We would spend a day there to gather soldiers and then resume our journey to arrive on time for the first of the Wind Month.

I did not particularly expect a warm welcome in Chilam, even with Chikal at my side. While I assumed she still commanded her people’s respect even as an imperial consort—her fellow amazons would not obey her so readily otherwise—I was the very face of their conqueror; the successor to the line of emperors which had brought their city into Yohuachanca’s fold.

Then again, perhaps this would be my first opportunity to work on my imperial image. Chilam’s people had never seen me yet, and first impressions always stuck. How I chose to portray myself to them would no doubt influence their perception of me in the long term.

“I suspect that Your Majesty will find a warmer welcome than he expects in our fair city,” Lahun replied. “A male strong enough to conquer an amazon is desired, for he is a challenge; while the amazon who lost to him will be despised for her weakness.”

“Even a queen?” I asked, knowing full well that Chikal would likely announce her pregnancy during our visit.

“Lady Chikal will no doubt have to face her fair share of challengers and opponents during your visit, but I do not fear for her safety nor reign. She is fiercer than any woman in Chilam.” Lahun rested her head against my chest. “I, however, will only find contempt for yielding to Your Majesty’s will.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all,” Lahun replied without a doubt. “I was willing to bear this burden when Your Majesty asked me to become his concubine. I do not regret my choice in the slightest.”

I expected as much. My discussions with Lahun gave me the impression that she wasn’t especially attached to her hometown. Her loyalty was to magic first and foremost. She mostly served Chikal because they were cousins, and even then it hadn’t stopped Lahun from bearing a potential rival to Chilam’s throne when I asked her to.

“Although…” Lahun looked into my eyes. “If Your Majesty would allow me to do so, I would appreciate revisiting my old laboratory during our visit. I have stored many scrolls there that I would like to recover.”

“Of course,” I replied, immediately seeing through her game. “You could show me where you worked too. I am curious.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Lahun knew her city like the back of her hand and I assumed her laboratory included private areas. If she knew a secret spot where we could practice the Mometzcopinque ritual, I would leave the city with two witches in my employ instead of one.

“Is there anything you would like?” I inquired. “A precious book that you would like to read and add to your library? Ask, and it is yours.”

“Nothing comes to mind yet, though I appreciate the offer,” Lahun replied with the utmost sincerity. “Truthfully, I am quite surprised by Your Majesty’s generosity towards me. A male breeder in Chilam would not enjoy my current privileges.”

I smiled in amusement. “Would you rather that I put you in a cage and ravish you each night?”

“Far from it,” Lahun replied with the same playful expression as my own. “The cage part at least.”

I appreciated the fact that she had a sense of humor.

“I cannot promise you each night,” I replied while pinching her cheek, “But I could ravish you once more, if you wish.”

Lahun chuckled to herself. “I must say that Your Majesty’s lust has exhausted me for now. I would like a respite, if you would allow me.”

“Of course.” We had already made love three times tonight, so I couldn’t blame her for wishing to stop there. “Rest as much as you'd like.”

Lahun thanked me for my understanding, and we watched the end of the play in quiet silence. It didn’t take long for my seer concubine to fall asleep at my side while the actors left us.

It was quite late and well past midnight. The candles in my bedroom were all extinguished, with the only light allowed within being the pale moonlight. By all means, I should be falling asleep sometime soon.

Yet my dreams took their sweet time.

I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind, to focus on my heartbeat until the rhythm of its pulse lulled me to slumber. When that failed, I lit up a candle and read imperial documents. Lahun was a heavy sleeper, so it did not wake her up; but neither did it help quell my mind either. In fact, I felt as fresh as a man who had just woken up.

It didn’t take long for me to realize the source of the issue.

Tlaloc’s unbound vitality was a curse in disguise. If I healed from wounds in an instant, then it made sense that my body would take much longer to get exhausted. I was half a god already with the endurance to match, and gods did not sleep.

This was bad.

I knew I would likely fall asleep sooner or later—my body remained mortal—but later could mean a long time. Considering I could only practice magic openly in the Underworld, every hour counted.

My first reflex was to call Necahual to brew me a potion that would lure me to sleep more easily. I immediately decided against it, since I could only do that a few times. Making it a habit would be noticed and inevitably draw suspicions.

On paper, being sleepless while remaining alert and full of vitality was a blessing. Why would anyone insist on wasting time when they didn’t need to? On top of that, I had first showcased my current transformation after a dream. The Nightlords would likely draw a connection between these elements.

If they suspected me of using dreams to communicate with say, their dread father, then I would never be allowed to close my eyes again.

I decided to keep Necahual’s potions for emergencies and considered other options. I could opt for grueling training each day. The Flower War would give me plenty of excuses to work myself to the bone during daytime hours, but I could hardly justify a spar in the middle of the night.

Unless…

An idea crossed my mind. I snapped my fingers, and Tayatzin quickly arrived. “Your Majesty?”

“I need you to carry a message to Lady Sugey,” I said. The priest’s eyes widened in shock, but he listened attentively. “I would like to train with her, if she would not mind.”

“To train, Your Divine Majesty?” He didn’t hide his surprise. “For war?”

“What else?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I will soon champion our nation against foreign heathens, and she is the goddess of battle. Now that I have learned the basics with my consort Chikal, I would assume that Lady Sugey would prove an apt teacher for more difficult techniques.”

“Certainly,” Tayatzin replied with a bow. “I shall ask her immediately.”

Half an hour later, I climbed down from my longneck in the middle of the night. Our procession had stopped for a time near a river to let the longnecks and trihorns drink before resuming our march, which lent itself to some activity.

I walked into a ring of masked guards and red-eyed priests wearing only a loincloth, a spear, and a shield. Sugey awaited me there, her crimson gaze seizing me up with a mix of amusement and what could pass for excitement. Unlike me, she came wielding a shield and a star-shaped mace, while clothing herself in cotton armor and wearing a helmet made of wicker. A cloak of wool fluttered from her shoulders. This outfit was foreign to me. I hadn’t seen any Yohuachancan soldiers dressed like this.

“I must say, I find this refreshing,” Sugey declared.

“How so, goddess?” I asked.

“I do not recall any emperor demanding that I tutor them in the arts of war. A few of your predecessors did have the guts to defy me in a duel, but they were few and far between.” Sugey studied me for a moment. “Unless you are trying to assess my skills for such a day?”

That was exactly my objective, but I wisely kept my intentions hidden. The Bird of War was sharper than she let on. “If I were to defeat you, Lady Sugey, then you would make a poor goddess of war.”

“True.” She scoffed in amusement. “I have heard good tales about your prowess while wearing Father’s armor, but borrowed power can never be relied upon. I will test you as yourself.”

Big words for a leech stealing her father’s magic for herself. Her hypocrisy disgusted me. “I shall endeavor not to disappoint you, oh goddess.”

“I would suggest against it, Iztac Ce Ehecatl. I have no patience for weaklings.” Sugey lightly hit her shield with her mace. “I shall train you in the Sapa style of warfare, so that you may familiarize yourself with our enemies. Unlike us, they favor clubs and slings over obsidian blades and arrows.”

She pointed at her cloak. “This is alpaca wool. The Sapa soldiers use it to stop arrows while the armor can resist heavy blows, but our obsidian blades can cut through both. Our weapons are more brittle than theirs, so they have the edge in prolonged combat.”

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“So I must either land a decisive blow quickly or target exposed weak points?” I asked.

“Or hit hard enough that neither matters.” Sugey cracked her neck. “Stand ready.”

Then she charged at me with blinding speed before I could respond.

I would have loved to say it was a metaphor, but it wasn’t. The Nightlord moved faster than a jaguar, Chikal, or any opponent I’d faced yet. She closed the gap between us in an instant with her club aiming at my heart. I barely had time to step to the side and raise my shield. It shattered as her weapon hit it with immense force, nearly taking off my arm.

The Bird of War did not play with her food.

“Give your all, or die,” she warned me. “I would rather have a broken emperor than an embarrassing one.”

“You shall have neither, goddess,” I replied while throwing my spear at her chest. The projectile flew faster than an arrow and with enough strength to gore three men in one blow. She snapped it in two with a swing of her mace.

“Foolish,” she said, “to leave yourself without–”

I closed the gap between us in an instant and punched her straight in the face.

My fingers could crush a skull easily enough, yet I felt like I was hitting a wall of ancient stones. My blow would have likely killed a mere mortal. It hardly made her flinch.

But I heard a crack. A slight fracture of a tooth right above the jaw, so subtle I hardly noticed it over the impact of my fist.

Yet it was the silence I found most deafening, as the red-eyed priests watched me punch their goddess. A tense stillness followed, with nobody present daring to move a muscle. Had I done the same to Iztacoatl or the Jaguar Woman in front of their servants, my life would have been forfeited on the spot.

But if I hadn’t misjudged Sugey…

A chuckle broke the silence, and I allowed myself a breath of relief.

The Bird of War was smiling.

“Yes,” Sugey said, her cracked tooth healing in the blink of an eye. “That’s more like it.”

She tossed away her weapons and charged me bare-handed.

I tried to dodge and throw another punch, but her own speed and ferocity proved superior even with my newfound strength. She struck me in the chest so hard she cracked at least two ribs. The pain would have been unbearable once, but I’d grown used to it since.

I attempted to catch her with one arm and ram my fingers into her eyes, to at least blind her. I instead earned a fist to my face that sent me to the ground in return. Blood filled my nostrils and mud my mouth.

“Ferocious and crafty,” Sugey complimented me; and unlike the likes of Iztacoatl, she sounded sincere. “You hide your intent well enough, but you’re overthinking it.”

I tried to rise up, but she simply grabbed me by my hair and lifted me up with a single hand. I might as well have been a bundle of maize to her.

“That mind of yours will serve you well before the battle begins, boy, but once it does?” She forced me to look at her, her crimson eyes blazing in the dark. “There’s only blood and savagery.”

She smashed my face into the ground.

I knew it would have killed any other man, and even then it hurt enough to leave me dizzied and briefly paralyzed. The pain was atrocious beyond words, but I was too enraged to care. I clenched my fists and forced myself to my knees.

I would not go down quietly.

“Thinking in a fight makes you hesitate, unfocused, distracted,” I heard her say as she cracked her knuckles. She relished this; the pain, the violence, the challenge. “We’ll have to beat that flaw out of your thick skull.”

Do your worst, I thought while rising up. One day, the brain spilling out of a skull will be yours.

Sugey eventually beat me to sleep.

“You acquainted yourself very well for a mortal, Iztac Ce Ehecatl,” I’d heard her say once she finished brutalizing me to resume the march. “I look forward to you claiming heads on the battlefield.”

I supposed that my plan worked, although I would have preferred a kinder method in retrospect and would focus on finding one next time. I’d learned enough tonight.

Although Sugey had recruited Chikal, the similarities between them were only superficial. Both enjoyed the thrill of battle and violence, but while my consort’s lessons always focused on explaining to me what went wrong and how to improve, Sugey’s idea of ‘training’ mostly involved relentlessly beating me up and punishing every mistake I made with overwhelming brutality. More than that, I could tell she enjoyed it.

Sugy was a brute. A cunning brute, but a brute nonetheless.

This encounter at least taught me not to underestimate her. Sugey wasn’t stupid in the slightest. She fought with an ancient warrior’s experience and sharp senses, and she had familiarized herself with Sapa fighting tactics enough to mimic them. She was the most dangerous kind of warrior: the fighter that extensively researched their enemy before engaging them in battle.

She would not underestimate me if I ever challenged her openly. Unlike the White Snake, the Bird of War did not toy with her food.

Sugey also differed from Iztacoatl in a few ways. Namely, she didn’t care much for mind games or humiliating me. In fact, she seemed pleased with my performance enough to compliment it. She respected strength above all else. I had a feeling I could use that against her.

Most important of all, she wasn’t insecure in the slightest.

Iztacoatl was a coward at heart, and the Jaguar Woman’s obsessive need to crush any form of dissent with disproportionate force bordered on madness. Even Yoloxochitl pathetically demanded the love of others. Sugey instead struck me as the kind of person who felt secure in her strength.

This could prove a problem going forward. Those who didn’t fear losing face were the most willing to take bold risks.

All in all, I suspected that it would take much less effort to hide things under Sugey’s nose than with Iztacoatl, but she wouldn’t hesitate to get her hands dirty if I slipped up in any way.

I put those thoughts aside as I finally faded into unconsciousness and returned to Tlalocan. Nobody disturbed my Father or my predecessors’ hiding spot, which I appreciated. Moreover, the fiery clouds below had all but cleared, revealing an endless wasteland of ashes. The temperature had dropped too.

I knew this dead world would never sustain life again, but it would at least become tolerable.

“That is a fascinating possibility,” my predecessors’ skull said after I recounted Lahun’s hypothesis. “If the Nightlords are indeed Mometzcopinques rather than Nahualli as we assumed, then it would mean that studying your bond to young Necahual might grant you insight into their rituals.”

I hadn’t thought of it, but they had a point. If the bond that united the Nightlords to their enslaved father was the same that united me to Necahual, then examining the latter would give me an edge in sabotaging the former.

I might even find a way to break their hold over my soul. The New Fire Ceremony already proved that the Nightlords’ various rituals were interconnected in a web of occult power, with the alteration of one impacting the others.

However, the Parliament of Skulls also noticed a problem I hadn’t considered. “We do foresee another issue, our successor. A Mometzcopinque derives their power from their patron, which is split between their witches. Not only will the First Emperor regain more of his strength with each Nightlord that we destroy, but the surviving sisters may individually access a greater amount of magic each.”

“So if I were to slay Iztacoatl, both the Bird of War and the Jaguar Woman could array stronger spells against me?” I asked with my jaw clenching in displeasure. This didn’t please me in the slightest.

“They would need to expend more to keep the First Emperor sealed too,” Father pointed out. “Would the two counterbalance each other?”

“Possibly,” I conceded. I didn’t notice a fluctuation in the Nightlords’ powers after Yoloxochitl’s demise, but it could have simply been the result of Eztli quickly filling in for her deceased vampire sire.

“Your sleeping difficulties present another problem we must address,” my predecessors said. “An exhausting schedule will mitigate the worst of it, but we will have to assume you might no longer be able to fall into the Underworld each night from now on; and since our Reliquary is now half an empire away from you, opportunities for us to advise you will become rarer.”

“Wouldn’t meditation help?” Father suggested. “I am no expert in these things, but your Mother had her own way of venturing into the Underworld without being beholden to sleep’s demands. She should know a spell that would allow your spirit to wander here.”

I pondered his words in silence. He had a point. Mother mentioned that she preferred the Underworld and rarely stayed among the living. It would make sense for her to have learned or developed a spell to make it easier.

Nevertheless, I had no desire to meet her again unless she fulfilled Father's demands that she release the souls she kept in captivity; and even then, I didn’t think I could do more than tolerate her. Her sacrifice of Father had been one act of cowardice too many.

But then again, that very same fear would force her to behave if I ordered her to do anything. She was already no match for me before I consumed Tlaloc’s embers. I would simply have to ask and she would obey.

“We’ll see,” I replied evasively while bringing out the First Emperor’s codex. “Until then, we should investigate the path to the Third Layer. I’m wary of asking Tlaloc for directions considering his temperament, so this book remains our option for the moment.”

“His Majesties and I can read it for you, my son,” Father suggested. “It’s not like we have better things to do around these parts.”

“A wise proposal,” my predecessors agreed. “Until then, you can use this time to practice your spellcasting.”

It would indeed be an optimal use of our time and resources, except for one issue: namely, my father and the previous emperors had both been reduced to skulls with no arms to flip the pages with. I considered how to solve this problem when an idea crossed my mind.

I remembered Queen Mictecacihuatl mentioning that a sorcerer could animate armies of corpses with the Doll, and I had success combining different spells in the past.

I looked at the skull channeling my predecessors, which I had crafted from my own bones. Knowing that they would eventually regrow, I grabbed some of my ribs and reshaped them into a small skeleton no larger than that of a small child. I bound the emperors’ skull to it and sensed them join together through our shared curse.

“Can you control it, my predecessors?” I asked.

“Yes.” The past emperors raised their new hands to examine them. “How strange. We had almost forgotten how it felt to move.”

The Legion’s power had increased enough that the skulls could animate bones bound to them. This pleased me greatly. Six hundred emperors slumbered in anguish within their parliament of the dead. If each of them could animate a body, then I would only be limited by the quantity of vessels I could provide them.

“I lack enough bones to create more than one body yet,” I apologized to Father. “If you can wait until tomorrow night, I should have enough resources to change that.”

“No need,” he reassured me. “Simply attach me to this one. If I am to join with His Majesties through your Legion spell, I might as well get used to sharing a body.”

The idea of his soul suffering as part of the Parliament of Skulls shook me to my core. “Father, we have talked about this. That idea is out of the question.”

“We appreciate your determination, Lord Itzili, but we humbly suggest that you reconsider,” my predecessors added. “We would trade anything for our current state of existence.”

“I more than understand,” Father replied with a somber tone that made me wince. He had been assimilated into the First Fear not too long ago, a fate arguably even worse than becoming another skull on a pile. “However, I cannot let my son risk his life while I wait on the sidelines.”

“The book might offer us other alternatives,” the previous emperors argued, though I could tell it was mostly to delay this critical discussion for another time. “Let us not jump to conclusions too hastily.”

“Yes,” I said, jumping at the opportunity to change Father’s mind. “Look into the codex until you find more information on the next layer first.”

Father agreed to drop the matter for a moment, and I swiftly bound his skull to the new body I’d shaped. The result looked quite grotesque, the head of the small skeleton’s two heads forcing it to hunch over, but it was functional enough for them to flip through the book’s pages.

In the meantime, I continued to practice with my other spells in order to assess their increase in power. I first began to experiment with Spiritual Manifestation and quickly found that my control over it had sharpened. While I was once forced to shift back and forth between forms, I quickly managed to grow wings out of my shoulders and turn my hands into talons without surrendering my humanoid shape. I could blend the aspects of man and the beast however I wished.

With practice, I could see myself developing a shape that combined the strengths of both and the weaknesses of neither.

I didn’t notice any particular change with the Doll besides an increase in range and grip strength for its shadow talons. I could use them to punch through stone and shred men, but it didn’t seem to have gained any new application.

The Veil, however, showcased a noticeable change.

I wove an illusion of a sparrow within my hand, so small and weak it could be crushed within my palm. I pressed against its feathers with my fingers and felt a slight pressure against them. The fake bird let out a cry as if I were genuinely hurting it.

The illusion had substance.

I wouldn’t call it solid, since the sparrow vanished into nothingness when I pressed a tiny bit harder, but it was definitely tangible. Semi-real.

This opened up many possibilities. While a tangible illusion would collapse easily, it would become more credible too. The Veil’s main weakness was that the victim had to buy into a lie for it to take hold over their mind, so I remained limited to subtle and believable scenarios. Creating a false demon among a crowd would have been impossible for me to sustain beforehand.

However, if it were halfway solid enough to touch its victims, then the latter would likely start buying into the illusion; thus strengthening it enough to become real in their eyes. This greatly broadened my options for the Veil.

I wondered about the implications for a moment. What would happen once I consumed a third set of embers? Would my illusions become real? Would I become powerful enough to shape reality like clay?

I felt I had only touched the surface of absolute power.

I heard Father’s voice calling out to me. “We’ve found it, Iztac.”

I put aside those thoughts and turned to my allies. My father and predecessor pointed at a page with a drawing of a strange portal with ephemeral, shadowy boundaries. It reminded me of a ring made of intertwined smoke and winds. I quickly read the description.

Located in the depths of Matzakuy, the first city raised by the Third Sun’s people, the Gate of the Twin-Breaths links the tombs of Tlaloc and Quetzalcoatl. Built from wind and fire, it is the last frontier between the dreams of mankind and the primeval unknown; for it was only with the rise of the Third Sun that the gods created the race of man that lingers to this day. The Layers beyond serve as tombs for things that preceded us, some of which were too dangerous to linger in the heavens’ newer creations. The horrors that dwell within these realms are both primordial and unrecognizable.

The Second Sun came to an end when the gods raised a hurricane that would sweep away the sins and evils that inhabited this doomed world. To cross the Gate of the Twin-Breaths requires a ghastly sacrifice that only the bravest and most determined will be willing to pay.

A first breath and the last.

“A first breath and the last?” I repeated, pondering its meaning.

“Then you would need the breath of a newborn and that of a dying person?” Father asked. “This does not sound too difficult.”

The previous emperors unfortunately disagreed. “The book mentions a single sacrifice, not two,” they pointed out. “This suggests a different interpretation: the first breath must be the last.”

It didn’t take long for the implications to dawn on Father and me.

I would have flinched at the sacrifice required once, but I could have filled a lake with the blood of all my victims by now. At that point, one more wouldn’t hurt.

The logistics involved would prove another matter. A human’s first breath meant I would have to extract a child from a mother’s womb and then kill them before they could take a second breath.

Did it even need to belong to a human? Would a turkey chick’s first breath count? It would seem far too easy, but magic obeyed its own rules.

Father clearly thought along the same lines. “Let us try with an animal before we do anything drastic, my son.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Does the book say more?”

“Unfortunately not,” Father complained as he flipped the last page. “This book ends with the gate’s description.”

“Our successor has access to another volume,” my predecessors replied. “We suspect it will pick up where this one left off.”

I nodded in confirmation. The First Emperor codex currently in my possession only covered the Second Layer of the Underworld. However, I recalled that the volume which Ingrid had started to translate covered the author's meeting with Quetzalcoatl, the Second Sun of the world; an interaction that could have only taken place in the Third Layer. There was a chance that the author recorded his crossing of the Gate of the Twin-Breaths in that volume.

And if my predecessors were right about the sacrifice, and if it required a human’s life…

If they were right, I would do what I had to do.