~Tulio~
Out of the blackness appears a city carved from white stone and full of nameless people. No matter where I turn, all their faces are distorted beyond recognition, their features blurred at the edges. They all rush past me as if I'm invisible, which, as far as I know, is true. I wander aimlessly, trying to find something I can anchor myself to, but the gray sky is too dark and every time I turn a corner I only see more strangers, more foreign variables to add to my collection of mysteries.
Suddenly, I round a bend, and right in front of me is a face so familiar it causes an ache in my chest. When he sees me he smiles, the sight warm and comforting like a fire heating the Earth. He walks towards me, and I instinctively hold out an arm as if to catch him, but as soon he reaches me the world flashes, sending me a string of visions where there's a whirl of maps, boats, and gold. I see a flash of red dice and a smile before the world turns into a dreamless black and pitches me into an atmosphere of total darkness where I can't see anything, but I can hear a voice that whispers into the abyss.
"I love you, too. Te amo, Tulio."
…
There's a gentle nudge to my shoulder that slowly drags me from my dream. The visions disintegrate; as I try to hold onto them, they slowly but surely slip away like water through my fingers. I keep my eyes shut in an act of malice, hoping that whoever woke me up will eventually walk away.
"Get up!"
Something spongy whacks my face. The air rushes from my lungs as I shout in protest, my cry stifled by my pillow. The weight above me disappears and I have just enough time to open my eyes before the sight of purple satin smacks my face again. I sit up with a start, hands scrabbling to get the fluffy cushion off of my face. Turning, I see an angry Chel standing over the bed, hands sitting on her hips.
"I am going to count to one," she warns.
"Alright, alright," I grumble, swinging my feet over the edge of the mattress. "You hit hard for such a small woman."
"One!" Before I can duck, she grabs the pillow and slams it into my face once more.
"Huh?" Miguel lifts his head from his pillow, his eyes squinting at the pair of us. "Wha's goin' on…?"
"I just thought you two might like a chance to spruce up a bit." She glances at our tangled hair and rumpled clothes with a wry grin. "You kinda need it."
Miguel yawns widely and hops to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm still tired," he whines.
"Well, maybe if someone had gone to bed when I told them to, that someone wouldn't be quite so tired," Chel says, glaring none too subtly at us. She looks Miguel up and down and narrows her eyes. "Are you really going to wear that?"
Miguel glances down at his red shirt and tucks the hem into his pants. "Yes," he replies indignantly. "It's comfortable."
"If you say so," Chel says under her breath. "Alright, we don't have much time. The High Priest will be here any minute. Let's go!"
She bustles around us, fixing hair and straightening clothes. She rolls her eyes each time one of us yawns, and smacks our cheeks whenever our eyes threaten to close. As she's making a futile attempt to tame my curls, she suddenly gasps. "Oh no," she murmurs, her finger tracing a trail along the side of my head.
"What?" Miguel and I ask at the same time. Without waiting for a response, Miguel hurries over to my side and squints at Chel's finger.
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that." Miguel nudges Chel out of the way and I feel his fingers in my hair, although this time he doesn't seem concerned about making it presentable. His fingers poke a sore spot on my scalp and I grimace. "It's not that big a deal, right?"
"No, it is," Chel corrects him. "It really, really is."
"What are you two—ouch, stop it!" I snap. Miguel yanks his hands away.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he mutters. He turns towards Chel and shrugs. "He's had that cut since we got here and nothing's happened. What do you think—"
"I beg your pardons, my Lords." Chel gasps again and quickly begins smoothing down the hair around my ear. Tzekel-Kan strides into the temple, a contemptible look written across his smug face. "I am here to take you to the ceremony."
"We'll be with you in a moment," Miguel tells him. He gives the High Priest a small wave and Tzekel-Kan nods, stepping through the curtain to wait outside. Miguel immediately rounds on Chel.
"What's wrong with it?" His voice is hushed now and he seems slightly panicked. Chel merely shakes her head and gives my hair a few more quick pats.
"Nothing, nothing — don't worry about it right now. We'll clean it up tonight." For a moment it looks like Miguel is going to argue, but Chel leans closer to him and whispers, "You have to go. He'll suspect something's up if you don't." Miguel's mouth snaps shut as her words sink in. She gets her hands on our shoulders and shoves us towards the entrance. "Now go; he's waiting. Try not to screw everything up."
When we reach the curtain, Miguel glances over his shoulder.
"Hey, you coming?" She shakes her head, and Miguel cocks his head to the side. Chel crosses her arms and holds them tight to her chest, a tense smile on her face.
"You boys go on without me," she says. "I'd rather not go."
Miguel pauses, turning all the way around to face her. "You're kidding," he says. "We need you with us."
Chel scoffs, waving a hand in the air. "You don't need me for this. Just improvise, you're good at that." For a moment, it looks as though Miguel is going to argue some more before Chel impatiently points towards the exit. "Go," she demands.
Reluctantly, Miguel pushes back the curtain where Tzekel-Kan greets us with a smile and a bow. He leads us across the city to one of the largest temples.
The journey is dead silent, the three of us lost in our own thoughts. I can feel the gentlest of winds run through my hair, reminding me of Chel's fingers through my hair just minutes earlier, and I wonder once again what bothered her. It must have been the injury that's there, although I'm not sure what's so bad about it. It's been hurting a bit more since the ball game, but that's all. It's like Miguel said, nothing had happened to me because of the injury, so I don't understand her negative reaction.
"This way my Lords," Tzekel-Kan says, taking the lead up the stairs. Once inside the temple, he takes us down a narrow flight of stairs that plunges us into darkness within seconds.
After a moment the stairs level out into a long hallway with brackets attached to the walls. Tzekel-Kan pulls a torch out of one and proceeds to lead us down the dark corridor. Each step towards the basement fills the air with a more bone-chilling cold. It seeps into my bones and I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I had something warmer to wear than these flimsy robes. Maybe I'll take Miguel up on his advice and change back into my old clothes once we get out of here.
Eventually the torch in Tzekel-Kan's hand glances upon a mahogany door with a golden handle. The High Priest quickly pushes it open and ushers us inside, following us as soon as Miguel gets in.
The room is huge. The ceiling is so far above our heads that when we take a step the sound of our feet hitting the ground echoes through the corridor. Along the walls are fifty sconces that light up the room well enough to be able to see but eerily enough to give it a sinister effect. Along each wall are murals depicting the death of various people in increasingly grotesque ways. In the center of the room is a large stone slab and sitting right next to it is a short table. Across the room is another entrance, this one simply an arch way that fades into darkness.
"Whoa," Miguel breathes. The word echoes through the chamber once like a whisper on the wind and I feel a shiver run down my spine.
"The families shall be arriving shortly," Tzekel-Kan says. I hear the sentence once more as it echoes. He strides past us and walks up to the counter, reaching down to pick something up from the table. There's a flash of silver and I realize that I had missed the blade sitting there. I swallow, suddenly feeling the desire to take several steps in the opposite direction.
"Families?" Miguel asks.
"The chamber is far too small to house the entire city, but I prefer it when there are witnesses for the sacrifices." Tzekel-Kan smirks, twirling the knife in his hand. "So we invite the families to watch. It will still be crowded considered the size of the sacrifice, but it will be worth it."
"So, uh, what do we do?" Miguel's voice has turned suddenly shaky, but to his credit he does his best to hide it. Tzekel-Kan smiles something I'd call friendly if we were under different circumstances.
"Enjoy yourselves," Tzekel-Kan replies nonchalantly, gesturing to two cushions on the ground.
Miguel sucks in a sharp breath, and for a moment I fear he's going to respond, but just as he opens his mouth a dull buzz fills the hollow space, bouncing off the walls and making itself twice as loud. Miguel and I exchange a glance before the mahogany door opens again and people begin slinking into the room. They move against the walls, watching the three people in the middle of the room apprehensively. I feel a twist in the bottom of my stomach as I catch sight of Kisa and her mother at the edge of the crowd.
Not again.
Kisa is taking in the large room curiously, and as soon as her eyes land on mine she smiles weakly, sending me a sad, discrete wave. I nod my head in response and in a moment she's disappeared into the throng of natives.
Miguel sinks onto one of the cushions nearest to us and I follow his lead, folding my hands in my lap.
Tzekel-Kan adjusts the skull ornament on his head and steps forward, raising his voice to cut through the chatter.
"We have here the bravest warriors in the city, and even they could not stand against the power of the gods. Do you understand now? The gods need the blood of our people – it is the way of the world! It is the way of our world! The Age of the Jaguar is upon us, we cannot afford to neglect it!"
The Age of the Jaguar?
I remember that. That's what the captain of the guard told me when I asked where all the people were. He said that we had come to 'purge the city of vice and sin.' I don't know about Miguel, but there's only one evil I see here.
Tzekel-Kan turns to the crowd of sacrifices and points to the closest victim. I recognize the older man who had the three red feathers in his hair from the game.
Red Feathers walks forward, his chin jutted into the air and bitterness glazed over his eyes like cold steel. He swings his leg over the side of the slab and hauls himself up, lying down with a resigned sigh.
Miguel leans close to me and whispers in my ear, "Okay, so on the count of three I'll rush forward and you—"
Suddenly, there's a small squeak of horror. Kisa stands at the edge of the crowd, grasping her mother's hand so tightly her knuckles are white. Red Feathers must be the person they're here for, and I feel my heart begin to pound faster.
Miguel is right: something has to be done.
When Tzekel-Kan steps forward and raises the blade into the air, Kisa's mother lets out a haunting wail. Her cry quickly dissolves into sobs as she covers her mouth with her hand, but all the same, the ghost of her misery remains locked in the air, foreshadowing what's to come. I feel determination surge through my veins and I push myself to my feet. The High Priest pauses, and Miguel, his voice thick with relief, whispers, "You have a plan?"
Miguel's voice reverberates through the open chamber, a reflection of the same question burning in everyone else's minds. Red Feather does not seemed disturbed by this sudden silence, only tightens his fist as if he expects the blow to come any moment. I glance down at Miguel and find him staring back at me, his eyes wide, but his lips curled up at the ends. I tilt my head towards the crowd, and mouth the words I'm opening my eyes.
Miguel doesn't hesitate to scramble to his feet.
Tzekel-Kan stares at us intently, the blade still poised above his head waiting to strike. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the entire crowd lean forward at once. I suddenly feel an intense pressure to do something profound and godlike, such as shooting light from my every orifice as I hover in midair, my mighty voice filling the chamber with its vastness as I rain my fury down upon the High Priest to rid the city from his presence forever.
I clear my voice again.
Tzekel-Kan's confidence falters, his arms bending slightly and it's only just now that I realize that I have no idea what I'm going to do. I blink rapidly, and I feel Miguel nudge my arm urgently as if to say hurry up already.
A thousand words run through my head. I think of the last time Tzekel-Kan tried to sacrifice someone and Miguel had stopped him. He had been so confident — so sure — that it had almost seemed as though he had planned it beforehand. But now he says nothing, despite the increasingly cocky grin on his face. If he believes I can stop this, then something tells me I can.
I glance up and catch Kisa's eye once more. Her tiny face is so full of hope, and her fists are closed so tightly around the small golden trinket looped around her neck that her knuckles have turned white. The child's gaze is focused so intently upon my face that I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
And suddenly I know just the words to say.
"Why?"
The word comes out softer than I had intended, but it seems to have an interesting effect. Tzekel-Kan's elbows bend further as he lowers the weapon to his side.
"My Lord?" he says simply.
"Why?" I say again, louder. "Why are you so hell-bent on these stupid rituals? You act like we asked for this, but I think I'd remember doing that."
I ignore the little voice that says my memory isn't exactly trustworthy.
Tzekel-Kan finally seems to locate his voice, and with a sudden unexpected bravado he says, "Forgive me if I have been mistaken, but I was under the impression you had made your desires quite clear when you devoured the soul of that warrior."
"That was a mistake!" I roar, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I feel the sudden urge to kick something, but there's nothing around to take my anger out on. Members of the crowd gasp in shock. My grip tightens. "I didn't do that on purpose. I was trying to help someone else, and he – he got in the way. I—"
"And so you disposed of him for his trespasses. My acolyte tells me he did not obey your orders, causing you to take matters into your own hands." Tzekel-Kan smiles, his face much more relaxed as though he understands exactly how I'm feeling. "Commendable behavior, of course; one can never be too lenient when dealing with traitors."
"Ah Puch wasn't a traitor!" A voice pipes up from the crowd, tiny and high-pitched and broken with rage. Tzekel-Kan cranes his head in the direction of the voice, but he does not address Kisa directly. Instead, he looks at the two gods in front of him, an expression entirely unreadable on his face.
"So," he says, "shall I continue?" Without waiting for a response he wraps his fingers around the handle of the blade, his eyebrow cocked inquisitively.
"No," I say. "No, have you even been listening? I don't want people dying because of me!" At this, the High Priest's eyes narrow. I'm not sure whether I've imagined it, but I could swear I see a hint of rebellion spark in his watery eyes. His fingers twitch around the handle of the knife and there's something haughty in the angle of his chin. My muscles tense as I prepare to spring forward on the chance that he decides to kill Red Feathers anyway. I wait for the flash of flying metal, but it never comes. Instead, he merely takes in a ragged breath and bows his head stiffly.
"Of course, my Lord. Forgive me."
"Oh, it's alright," Miguel finally chimes in. Perhaps he feels the tension in the room and is entirely too uncomfortable in it, or maybe he thinks I've had enough to deal with at this point. Either way, he continues. "Luckily for you we're the forgiving type — second chances and all. Just don't make us repeat ourselves. We're terribly fond of our voices, but there's a point where it just grows tiresome."
When Miguel is done speaking there's a moment where no one moves. It's as though everyone in the room saw only one direction this evening would spiral towards, and at the end of the night they saw only the sweeping cloak of Death as he dragged away those they loved. However, in a sudden rush of movement, people suddenly find it unbearable to wait and spring forward to touch their kin, if only to ensure themselves that this is real and that their hands won't simply go through like an apparition.
Red Feathers remains strewn across the slab, his arms and legs stiff to his side as if he never heard me speak. Kisa and her mother are off to the side, obviously desperate to join him but wary of Tzekel-Kan who hasn't moved an inch.
Kisa's mother is dabbing at the tears still pricked in her eyes, but Kisa doesn't seem to be paying her much attention. Her large brown eyes are focused on where Miguel and I stand side-by-side. However, unlike everyone else in the room that are blubbering with happiness and trying very hard to contain their emotions, Kisa's young face is twisted into an expression of deep and utter loathing.
I almost take a step back. What had I done to earn that look? Hadn't I just single-handedly saved everyone in the room from an untimely fate? Hadn't it been me who had protected her family this time, and had therefore fulfilled my debt to her?
But there's no mistaking it. Kisa's eyes are narrowed and her cheeks flushed with fury. Her arms are stiffly crossed and her lower lip is trembling as though she's trying hard not to cry. I look at Miguel and see a smile so large I can see all his teeth. Clearly he has not noticed this sudden change in alliance. When I turn back towards Kisa she has already turned away and she and her mother are standing next to Red Feathers' side. Mrs. Kisa's cries of joy joining all the others as they fill the room.
Suddenly there's a great huffing sound and everyone turns towards the mahogany door. Chief Tannabok bounds in, the door slamming into the wall as he shoves it open, and stands there with his chest heaving as he tries to suck air into his lungs.
"I heard — time changed — thought I'd missed it—" he says, gasping for air. "I came as quickly as I could but, what — what have I missed?" He seems confused, his tiny eyes sweeping back and forth like he's trying to see what he had come for and not what he was currently seeing. I'm sure Tannabok had expected to find a pile of dead bodies at this point and a crowd weeping for an entirely different reason.
He locks eyes with Tzekel-Kan and the tension instantly builds a hundredfold. I look back and forth between them nervously, half-expecting one of them to suddenly leap at the other and begin an intense showdown.
"Lord Julio has saved us all!"
The speaker is a young man. He had been one of the intended sacrifices, but now his face is bright and happy and a blush of excitement is spread across the bridge of his nose. Tannabok blinks at him before turning to me, and suddenly the entire chamber is full of an ear-splitting cheer as all the natives throw their hands in the air and begin cheering.
Miguel laughs heartily and throws an arm across my shoulders casually. "Way to go, Lord Julio." He has to shout in order to be heard, but I still grin.
There's a soft warmth in my palm and I glance down to see an old woman holding my hand in hers. She has white hair wispy like a cloud and the shrunken appearance of someone who's lived far longer than a normal human. Her eyes, however, are young and they're filled to the brim with tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks.
Standing beside her is the boy who had spoken out and there's a wide smile across his face to rival Miguel's.
"Thank you." Her voice is no more than the softest of whispers, as if she had long ago forsaken the act of speaking. The man next to her nods at me, his arm looped around the old woman's. I try and think of something to say, but my throat has constricted to a point that any words that tried to come out would only be a strangled mess. I simply give them both a smile and the man leads his elder away slowly.
Although there's a high cause for celebration, there's also a rush to get out of the sacrificial chamber. It's not that I blame them either; staying here is like dancing on the grave you almost got put into.
Tzekel-Kan is standing next to the slab wiping a clean rag along his spotless blade. As soon as he notices me staring at him, he clears the scowl from his face and begins furiously cleaning his weapon.
Tannabok is the last to leave. Just before he leaves the door, he sends us a curious expression. It appears as though he's about to say something then seems to think better of it, shaking his head instead and slipping out the door.
Miguel gestures towards the door and the two of us walk towards it. The side of my scalp suddenly prickles again and I groan inwardly. Ever since Chel dug her fingers through it it's been bugging me. I raise a hand and scratch at it impatiently. Suddenly I hiss as my nail scraps under the scab. Miguel stops and glances at me.
"What?" It seems that nothing can worry him too much because there's still a smile on his face.
I pull my hand away from my face and inspect it. Blood is smeared across my fingertip and I groan out loud this time.
"It's bleeding again," I say. "Honestly, you'd think a god wouldn't have wounds, you know?"
Suddenly there's a loud clatter behind us. Miguel and I whirl around and see Tzekel-Kan standing there, the weapon at his feet and his eyes wide with shock. Within seconds he has righted himself, bending over to pick up the blade with a muttered apology. He doesn't wait for a response before scuttling off towards the opposite entrance.
I glance at Miguel, but he only shrugs, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the door. I put the High Priest's behavior out of my mind. After all, I'm sure whatever bothered the High Priest has nothing to do with me.