10- In which a man's home is his heart...
The Lady of the Flowers, or Tlalt, as those closer to her called her, had described the space between worlds as utter nothingness, as the way the universe had been before the first song had been sang.
'It's easy for anyone to get lost in the blackness' had been her warning for both her daughters when she explained it, while combing the hair of one of them before bed. La Muerte could almost see her childhood bedroom, the embroidered comforter of the bed she and La Noche shared, the stars caught in her sister's hair glimmering as their mother brushed them out 'No amount of light can light it, and even sound seems to fade within it. More than one mortal has wandered into it to be lost for all time'
'Nantli?'
'Yes, yolotzin?'
'And Gods? Have any of them gotten lost?'
She couldn't really remember the answer, but since the thought was anything but helpful when she was floating down the passage between her Kingdom and the Land of the Forgotten, she pushed it away.
It was just as her mother had told her, a sea of vast emptiness without up or down, without warmth but devoid of true cold, without light. Even the golden illumination coming from her seemed to be absorbed by the blackness of the surroundings.
'You gotta go in a straight line' the Candlemaker had instructed her, back in her castle 'Well– not exactly straight, but y'know, as straight as you possibly can, until you see the other entrance. Before the Land of the Dead was split, that tunnel had two proper doors and a hallway...but when your folks decided to make into Thirteen Kingdoms, it was shut with the monoliths and a statue in the Snake Castle, and it became a void in which even Gods could get lost'
'How do you know I can use it, then?' she had asked, uneasy. He had motioned for the Book of Life expressively.
'You should be able to see it pretty soon. Not many other things to see in there'
He'd known what he was talking about; at times she had the unpleasant sensation that she had gone blind, her eyes trailing madly across the blackness in search of...something, anything. Finally, something, merely a crack of an ominous, poisonous green color appeared before her eyes. She rushed towards it, relieved that she would be out of the nigthmare-ish scape in no time.
Similar to the crack she had used in the Land of the Remembered to enter, this one extended from the ground and almost to the level of her eyes, and was narrow enough that her body would normally never make it through without shape-shifting (Although, she mused, it would be more than enough for something as small as, say, a human, to go through without much effort) the only difference being that the one up top opened to a promising, merry looking passage whereas this one looked like it led to a narrow space of black stone lit by one or two torches burning with green fire. She went through it in the shape of a flurry of marigold petals and landed on cold, damp-feeling stone, freezing in place. It was as though with only entering the space that properly belonged the castle, her abilities for teleporting, even the milder ones like becoming petals, had been blocked out. She looked around, listening intently.
Not unlike the empty space she'd just left, the Castle was very silent. The only sound she could make out was that of a distant, howling wind and some weak groaning. The place she was in had no windows, but on the torch-light she could see it was full of bottles and in dire need of a good cleaning. Cobwebs shone and floated like a ghost's shroud on the damp air and she needn't more illumination to tell everything was covered in a layer of dust.
"A ver, pues" she called to the being wrapped around her forearm "Lead the way"
Mas y Menos nodded both heads, before turning them to the right with decision. She followed his lead, hoping she wouldn't push or break anything and have a dragon or El Chamuco himself come check, but in just two or three turns, she was at the double doors without incident, pushing them open. A dull, gray light reached La Muerte's eyes as she crossed the door, not without checking there wasn't anyone on sight before taking the first step.
The windows in front of her were angular and devoid of glasses, like those on some of the human churches she'd seen, but the frames where carved in ancient patterns upon which she could run her finger smoothly as she approached them to look outside, beyond the lava moat surrounding the castle.
When compared to the Land of the Cursed, the Land of the Forgotten seemed very peaceful. A multitude of angular cliffs and stalagmites, old, rusty sets of chains crossing it, sometimes from the dusty ground to the stalactite-covered top and sometimes just from one cliff to the other. A gentle rain of what she mistook for snow at first, but turned out to be ashes, bathed the place in a sad, barren light gray. Here and there, what looked like ruins of dark gray stone, most of which had a design she recognized as that on Xibalba's crown crudely carved on top of other figures, rose like ancient graves in an abandoned cementery.
However, what caught her eye the most were the multitudes of statues representing humanoid figures with regretful, sad expressions on their faces. They seemed made of the same stone as the castle and had patterns and runes of a glowy green drawn through their faces and bodies, under the tattered clothes…
Wait, clothes?
Then, under her gaze, one of the figures opened his jaw (Which moved up and down with a sound like a rusted hinge) and actually sobbed, sad, tearless eyes lost in the nothingness, before his body began disintegrating into ashes, which the howling wind picked up and blew away. La Muerte took a couple of steps back, covering her mouth, wide eyes set on the space where the poor soul had stood just moments before until she could manage to look away in horror. This...this was the fate of those souls no one living remembered. Extinction. Mas y Menos made a doubtful, concerned sound, two sets of eyes set on her as she coerced the air back into her lungs.
'This is why he didn't want me to see his Land'
Yes, of course, he had probably known she wouldn't like what she'd see, the real question was: Had she concealed it on hopes of winning her favor or because it genuinely shamed him? Had he feared how bad her reaction would be for his image or did he just not want to her to suffer? It was beyond infuriating, really, being unable to tell what his intentions were because whether she thought highly or lowly of him, she was again and again proved wrong.
'And what if I just gave him the benefit of doubt instead of jumping to conclusions?'
Yeah, that could work. Besides, she had better things to worry about for the moment.
She looked down the hallway, decidedly ignoring the ruined landscape outside and rushing to the corner as fast as her legs allowed. One quick look assured her there was no vigilance and she turned to Mas y Menos.
"The dragons?" the snake slid from her forearm and began drawing a circle on the floor...the barrier of course! El Chamuco hadn't wanted to risk leaving the castle without it, not with Xibalba prisoner "I guess the path will be clear, then" she whispered, relieved. She wasn't sure of what she would have done had there been dragons in her way "Where did they put Xibalba?"
The snake turned and slithered away, silently indicating for her to follow.
The castle, although significantly smaller than hers or El Chamuco's, still seemed to extend inside the rock, like a thorn inside tender flesh. Most hallways curved along with the shape of the spiraling castle, a staircase on the end of each, some doors leading to what seemed to be grand, but empty and dusty rooms scattered on either side of them. There was a certain gloominess impregnated on the rock itself, hand in hand with the rough, menacing, angular shapes around it. She wondered briefly if a building could get lonely -why hadn't she seen any servants, or even guards?- and walked faster.
The lower they got, the darker it got. At one point, the dim, gray light of the outside died out completely, leaving her in exchange with what looked like glowing runes craved on the wall and her own candles to light her way. She wanted to roll her eyes, what was it with these brothers and giving their castles a proper lightening? Was it so hard to get a chandelier or two, or even just some torches? However, she was more intrigued by the runes. They had a structure that hinted to them forming actual words, maybe even sentences. Where they spells? Curses? Prayers? She knew so little about Xibalba, and his life outside what he chose to share with her, which usually was what made him look best...and yet it was as though the castle received her warmly. She couldn't really explain it, but she had the feeling that, this piece of Xibalba's intimacy, despite having been so carefully guarded by him, was welcoming her with open arms, like she belonged there.
'A man's castle is often just like their heart' came her father's voice from the labyrinths of her memory and she had to stop for a moment, her face hot and her heart skipping a beat.
It wasn't until they'd reached what seemed to be the lowest hallway of the castle, where some green-fire torches finally gave some decent lighting, that Mas y Menos halted, looking at La Muerte in expectation.
"Here?" she asked, advancing to take peeks inside the cells. To Xibalba's credit, they looked like they had last been used some good decades ago -considering his personality, she'd expected to find at least a dozen poor souls in there with him- but they were also damp and smelled strongly of stale air and something metallic which she hoped was the chains and shackles she could see in them. Almost on the last one, she finally saw a shape on the ground, what seemed to be a bunch of feathers and she rushed there, catching a glance of Xibalba, laid on the grimy floor, face first, his candles extinguished and his crown nowhere to be seen. Blood seemed to drain from her limbs and when she felt herself moving, she thought her knees had given out. Instead, she found herself by his side, easing his head carefully onto her lap, shock and fright freezing her insides at the sight of his livid expression and how heavy, completely numb he seemed. And so cold...she wanted to touch his neck in search for a pulse but she didn't dare.
'He's not dead. He can't be' and yet he hadn't been put in chains, not even locked up or tied, merely thrown in there like a broken doll 'The Candlemaker said he wasn't–'
Another possibility crossed her mind, what if he had still been alive when the Candlemaker checked, but she'd taken too long to reach him? Had she been too late? She felt like her heart had taken a leap into her throat just thinking about it. However, her doubts where cut short when Mas y Menos wrapped around Xibalba's arm a bit more forcefully than strictly necessary and he stirred, eyes cracking open just barely.
"Xibal–!" she choked, gulping down the knot around her throat, hands sliding to the sides of his face tenderly "Xi-xibalba–!"
"Mi amor..." he muttered, as if between dreams. For a moment, she was speechless in surprise. Mi amor? Just who did he think he was, calling her that?! However, what little irritation it had caused was practically washed away by a blessed, blessed, relief. He had enough breath to waste in empty and pretty words so, apparently, things could have been worse. He blinked and forced his eyelids to open more than just a crack, and though his left one seemed too swollen to, his gaze had become alert. He was awake.
"Can you move?" she asked in a whisper. He grinned.
"Please. It takes more than a couple of dragons to seriously harm me" his voice, despite sounding weak, retained some of his cockiness "I've been sleeping since they threw me in here. I daresay I'm well enough for a little escape"
A certain bitterness invaded her. So it wasn't necessary for her to have come...but when he started moving and a grimace seized his features, it was evident he was pretending to be better than he actually was. With a lot of care, she helped him onto his unsteady feet and then up, slowly.
"The dragons still surround the castle?" he asked. She nodded "Diantre...at this depth we can probably use very simple magic just fine, but we still can't teleport out"
"Then we'll have to leave the same way I came" as she took one of the flowers off her hat.
"Which was?"
"A passage, on the upper levels. A wine cellar, I think" he pursed his mouth pensively as she let magic spiral from the tips of her fingers around it, making it spin madly for a second, growing, solidifying, until it had turned into a goblet, the same color as the flower had been, water flowing from the bottom as if it were a spring until it was full. Carefully, she handed it to Xibalba and his eyes met hers as he raised it slightly, nodding.
"Salud, my dear" he muttered, smiling, before downing the water in a fashion that made her wish she'd offered sooner. He emptied the goblet at least three times before giving it back to her so she could reincorporate it to her hat as he stretched his limbs a little. Something cracked very loud and he grimaced slightly, jaw setting. She froze.
"What was that?" she hissed in horror. It sounded bad.
"One of my wings" he said matter-of-factly, straightening up his back and stretching on his tiptoes and oh, Gods, another crack, one that sounded definitely painful, reached her ears, as he relaxed, breathing out "I don't think they broke it, but it's hard to tell when you're more worried about not biting your own tongue off in the middle of a skirmish. I managed to knock out a couple of dragons, maybe seven, but they still kept coming–" he noticed the look La Muerte was giving him -as though questioning whether what little sanity he'd had left had been beaten out of him- and his mouth stretched in a toothy smirk "Am I making you worry you too much?"
"You're not worrying as much as you should, more like!" she retorted, scowling. Why did he think her distress funny?
"Cliché as the line is, I've had much worse" he said, trying to take his first step forward and again she was aware of how much worse than he pretended to be he actually was, he looked like the sole effort of getting up had aggravated his pain. She wasn't surprised, she remembered how long it took for what El Chamuco had done to her to heal, after all; rather, she would have been surprised if he'd truly been fresh as a lettuce with just one night of uneasy sleep. His breath came out in a labored hiss and his balance seemed to waver. She supported him for a moment, his weight tipping her to the side the slightest.
"I don't doubt it, but right now you can't even walk" well at least that cleared up why they hadn't bothered with a chain or a cell, or even a guard; they'd known he wouldn't be able to risk trying to escape on his own for several days. Too bad they hadn't counted on him not being on his own "Let's go, before someone comes"
La Muerte took one of Xibalba's thin arms and hooked it with her own, ready to support him if he faltered, without missing the somewhat triumphant grin and sparkle in his eye this provoked on him.
"I should get beaten up more often, huh?"
"I'm actually surprised you don't"
Despite how pleased he'd seemed with her arm around his, Xibalba only allowed her to support him on the actual stairs, as flat ground didn't take such a huge toll on him. They had already walked for a while under the light of her hat and the runes when Xibalba spoke again, his breath labored by the effort the stairs were taking in his injured form and the number those blasted dragons had done on his ribs.
"Why...did you come?"
It had been nagging at him since he realized she was actually there and it wasn't some near-death hallucination. His mental connection and control over Mas y Menos got weaker the further apart they got, and he'd also been unconscious most of the time. More importantly, nothing had been further from his mind when he sent the damn thing to her than the possibility that she'd get herself into the mess as well -that had been his mistake, probably, assuming she'd have enough common sense to stay away. At the time he'd been more relieved than anything that he'd gotten away with calling her 'Mi amor' without having his beard and mustache ripped off, but the question had been there all the same. Why?
La Muerte...ruffled, for lack of a better word. She seemed stuck in a nervous tension for a moment, before she turned to him.
"Complaint?" he flatly asked.
"Well...to tell the truth, I didn't want you to come" he paused to take a breath, but was it his imagination or had her expression become sadder with those words? "I never meant...for you to be in danger"
Now she seemed surprised. Pleasantly so.
"So far, I still am not in danger" she said warmly, giving his arm a small squeeze, eyes shifting between him and the front under half-lidded painted eyelids.
"And I intend it to stay so" his words were cut by a violent cough that made her stop on her tracks, worried. Really, those dragons...he'd have trouble breathing for weeks. She produced the goblet again for him to drink and after several very long sips, he handed the goblet back to her and turned away, leaning on the wall and breathing deeply, having an unnerving feeling of...cracking every time his chest expanded. Her hand traced the back of his neck in comforting movements.
"We could take a break if you want" she offered, her tone gentle "There are some empty rooms here, I think. We could hide for a while"
Ahhh, how tempting, he thought, looking back at her. The two of them under the dim light, in a closed space…
'Focus, Xibalba. She meant for actual resting and if you suggested otherwise, she'd break your face and your fingers'
"If he finds you, who knows what he'll do" he said, as though convincing himself to keep going rather than her...which he was "I need to get you out of here"
She breathed out for a moment, before taking a long sip from the goblet as well...and then she noticed Xibalba's expression, eyes narrowed gleefully and mouth stretched in a toothy smirk.
"What?" she asked, as though wondering if she really wanted to know. He took his time to reply, eyes pining on hers again.
"Indirect kiss"
She looked at him, then the goblet, then back at him, laughter bubbling from within her.
"What are you, five?!" she burst in incredulous laughter, returning the goblet to it's original form as he chuckled in a giddy manner that he'd any other time found unfitting of himself "If you're fine enough to joke, then we can keep going"
"Party-pooper"
They'd walked in almost silence for a couple of floors before La Muerte finally spoke, somewhat hesitant.
"What do these mean?"
"What?" Xibalba asked absently, without turning. Impatient, she took his hand and brushed it over the wall.
"These" she insisted, apparently ignorant to the effect she had on him, as his wings ruffled and his candles sputtered "What does it say here?"
His brow furrowed a little as he set eyes on the spiraling, squiggly patterns.
"I honestly don't know. They were already there when I arrived...I didn't even think they were actual writing, but now that you mention it..."
"I-I could be wrong. I was never good with old alphabets..." she hurriedly confessed, the implication silently there in the face she made. La Noche was. A crazy thought crossed his mind, was La Muerte insecure when it came to comparing herself to her sister? The idea seemed ridiculous but...at the same time it made a lot of sense.
"I was once rather knowledgeable on the topic..." he commented, still eyeing the markings, taking a step closer to her "I've forgotten most of it by now, though"
A silence stretched between them again as she touched the wall as well, tracing one of the symbols with the tip of her index finger. His eyes fell on the sun marking on the back of her hand and he imagined tracing it with his thumb.
"...they reminded me of your skin" she muttered. Both his snowy eyebrows shot up and his heart skipped a beat as she hurriedly corrected, stiffening, tipping her head down just enough so he couldn't see her expression thanks to her sombrero "Th-they kind of look like the runes on your face, that's all"
He leaned towards her the slightest, his mouth curving. It reminded him a bit of the night he'd tied the necklace around her neck, of the magnetic feeling between them. He wasn't sure whether it pushed them aside or tied them together, but it was definitely there. Did she feel it too or was it a figment of his imagination? If he had to judge based on the face she was making -her mouth curled as though she were holding back from beaming, her eyes averted playfully- and the fact that she hadn't pushed him away, she did. The tip of one of his fingers traced her cheek, brushing away a strand of hair with care. The touch gave her shivers, but he wasn't sure they were bad shivers, not when she leaned into the touch the slightest.
"Your skin, on the other hand...reminds me of starlight" he muttered, and like most truths he said, it slipped out almost by accident. He couldn't breath, he was drowning in the suddenly thick air, so thick that time itself muddled around them, slowing down. Her eyes set on his, so bright, like they could light and burn the whole world, every world, and her lips parted the slightest.
Why was he so close? Was that his heart or her own he heard beating madly?
"You got that one wrong..." she breathed as though no amount of air could fill her lungs "...La Noche is the starry one"
"It's not La Noche I'm talking to" Xibalba said, one instant away from her, close enough that he could see himself reflected in her eyes, and he almost looked like something worthwhile "It's only you and me in here"
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure" came a voice from behind him, among the shadows. A flash of something yellow and bright shone through the corner of Xibalba's eye and he caught La Muerte between his arms and rushed away. His body resented the movement, a lightning of pain running up and down it as he struggled to catch his breath and bite back the cough; La Muerte supported his weight, glaring at the shadows, where a face, as though drawn with lines of fire was the only thing that could be seen. Slowly, El Chamuco's shape became visible as what seemed like liquid fire ran from his mouth and through his body, with the cracking of rock becoming lava making clear why they hadn't seen him as he stretched his wings a bit, hands crossed behind his back.
"Sleeping on a borrowed bed can be problematic when your body lights everything on fire, so sometimes I allow it to solidify" he said self-sufficently. Painfully aware of La Muerte's body next to his and the image of how she'd ended up in her last encounter with his brother fresh in his memory, Xibalba set his jaw, trying to push her behind him with one arm, his mind racing for any possibility to buy her enough time to reach the passage "It is fortunate I decided to leave it as it was for my morning stroll"
Oh, of course, just his luck, Xibalba thought. Out of all the hallways in the castle, El Chamuco had to chose precisely the one he and La Muerte were in for a stroll. It made sense, though. El Chamuco was much more used to the light of the embers in the Land of the Cursed than the brighter -albeit just barely- gray glow in the Land of the Forgotten. He had probably chosen the lower levels of the castle to give his eyes a rest.
'Like I said, just my luck'
"I wasn't expecting to see you here, señorita" El Chamuco continued, bowing to La Muerte with bright eyes set on her as though fearing she'd disappear again.
"Sadly enough, the señorita is in no mood to talk to you" Xibalba snarled. She seemed to bristle up at his back. Uh-Oh.
"This señorita can speak for herself, thank you very much!" La Muerte hissed, glaring at him, and he returned the glare.
"Could you please not be like this right now–!"
"Then, let's talk" El Chamuco said, invitingly, bowing deeper in a gallantry that seemed out of place in the current situation "And we can start with asking why you are helping this filth escape, La Muerte"
"I think you are in hardly any position to demand explanations" La Muerte curtly retorted "This being his own castle and you an invader in it–"
"If the world were a fair place" El Chamuco interrupted her, his voice a barely contained bark, his temper igniting as quickly as hers, if not more "I would have everything of his! This Castle is nothing to what he owes me"
"Oh great, now we're fighting over this trash" Xibalba groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Nothing of the sort" El Chamuco said, regaining his calm "Like I said before, this is merely a temporary arrangement. I am to return your castle to you when I am done"
"When you advance to my Realm, that is" La Muerte said, trying to keep her tone neutral, but not quite managing to.
"He's already filled you in on the situation, I assume"
"No need to" she smiled in a mischievous manner that had Xibalba reminding himself to focus on the situation when all he wanted to do was stare all day "You are not half as clever as you think you are. Your goals are as plain as the horns on the top of your head"
Xibalba didn't know how much of the situation La Muerte really did know, but he was pleased to see her words made El Chamuco's brow furrow.
"I was well aware that you would be...reluctant to this glorious design"
La Muerte's candles sputtered indignantly.
"Glorious design?" she repeated, narrowed eyes set on El Chamuco "You are no better than a plague!"
"And if you were a couple of decades older and wiser, you'd know plagues are meant to purge humanity of it's imperfection" he smiled insidiously "I'm sure Xibalba could explain that to you, if he felt like it"
Xibalba felt her eyes stop on him for a minute and barely held back form gulping.
"Could you please not drag me into your fanatic speeches?"
El Chamuco glowered at him, fire overflowing from his eyes and mouth and around his body.
"And there it is, the only thing worse than being weak" he took a step towards them, shoulders hunched in a manner that reminded Xibalba of a rattlesnake about to strike "And by pure instinct they stepped back "Having the power and being too coward and apathetic to do anything with it. And here I thought you had learned the lesson when your choices doomed our Clan"
Xibalba felt his blood boil. So much for keeping the skeletons in the closet in the event of visitors
"Sadly, we've not the time to discuss your delusions, brother" he said, deciding to keep his wits about himself. His only real advantage over El Chamuco had always been that he was able to keep his head cool during fights...most of the time anyway. If he wanted to get La Muerte and himself out of there, he had to use it "We have other matters to attend"
"But of course" El Chamuco inched closer. It was hard to tell if his gesture was a snarl o a smile "But I am rather curious as to how exactly our delightful guest made it past the circle of dragons outside the castle unseen and unhurt"
"We'll leave you to keep guessing, then" La Muerte said flatly, moving closer to Xibalba, one hand coming to rest on the side of his arm and squeezing for a moment. Ready?
He gritted his teeth, but prepared all the same for...whatever it was she had in mind.
"Should I also guess" Chamuco continued, coming closer slowly, savoring what he thought was his victory "On how the weak mortals will ever stand a chance now that their strongest defender is stuck here with us as well?"
"Humans are not as weak as they seem" La Muerte declared, pride flaring in her voice. Her hand lowered along Xibalba's arm until she came to rest her palm against his. As though per instinct, his fingers closed around it "They will fight, with or without me"
El Chamuco remained silent for a moment, studying her. He seemed almost sad...hell, knowing him, he was sad. Feeling misunderstood and all that...perhaps just unable to accept she'd seen through his facade and into his madness.
"It would seem that he best way I have to ensure you understand what I am trying to do...is show you how wrong you are about them..." his eyes trailed to their intertwined hands and then Xibalba, who held his gaze as impudently as he was able to "And about him"
It happened in a flash. El Chamuco's fist swung at him and Xibalba, dodged it by pure reflex and dumb luck as it went and crashed into the wall. La Muerte seized the chance she'd seemingly been waiting for and lunged away from El Chamuco, towards the stairs that lead to the upper levels, dragging Xibalba with her as she went. The advantage they'd gotten was minimal, El Chamuco recovered almost immediately and started chasing after them through the castle in the looks that his own teleporting ability was also stumped by the dragons, wings flapping furiously to catch up with them. Xibalba had spent enough afternoons racing Mas y Menos on those narrow hallways and knew better than anyone else why it was a bad idea, as was soon proved, when they turned into the stair and ran up. He flew into the wall with a sound like thunder.
'That's going to leave a mark' Xibalba thought amusedly.
"How much longer until the wine cellar?" La Muerte asked, taking advantage of the gained distance. Xibalba looked at her in confusion for one moment "The passage is in there! How much longer?!"
They came to the first hallways to have windows, almost tripping on the dusty and torn carpet, and he looked around, his breath came out in unpleasant hissing noises and it was as though a plank rested on top of his chest.
"F-four levels..." he panted. She made a face, eyeing him. By this point, he surely looked as bad as he felt. He could taste blood when he gulped.
"I need you to endure the pain a little while longer–" she urged. The sound of El Chamuco's hooves almost tripping over the carpet reached him and she ran faster. Xibalba could feel his feet dragging the slightest but he forced his legs to move, to not drag her down. They reached the next set of stairs with El Chamuco still hot on their heels, and this time he managed to stop in time not to crash and keep chasing them. If either of them so much as staggered, they'd be caught. He had to keep going, he had to-
His foot slipped on one of the steps and he fell to his knee, dragging La Muerte to a halt. He barely had time to spit a curse before El Chamuco rammed them at full speed, sending both of them flying up onto the next hallway before his own impulse made him fall face first. Xibalba barely had time to wrap arms and wings around La Muerte before they impacted with the wall. Something cracked sickeningly in his back -she heard it too, he heard her gasp at it- and the world became a blur of gray for a moment as they hit the ground, his weight on top of her, his body too pained and heavy to move. Her hat floated down onto the carpet.
"Xibalba!" she cried, frantically struggling to slide out from beneath him. He commanded his body to move, to do anything, but it felt impossible, the most he could manage was roll off her so she could move, and she immediately moved to her knees, hands opening and closing and hovering barely over him as though deciding whether to touch him or not "Ay, Madre de los Dioses, por favor– Xibalba, get up!"
"Easier said..." he muttered. His vision swam for a moment, but he managed to focus on her face. Her worried, wonderful face, some stray hairs falling around it, but otherwise seeming unhurt.
"You have to! We have to move!"
"I can't..." he struggled to prop himself up, sit against the wall at the very least -his body quivered at the effort for a moment- and then collapsed again, a groan leaving his lips. For a moment he considered telling her to run, to leave him there, but decided against it. He was too hurt. And frankly, getting scared as well "I can't move"
"Carajo..." she muttered, stealing uneasy glances at the direction they'd come from. Yes, he could feel the weight of El Chamuco's steps up the stairs, slow and torturing. Once again, savoring a victory he hadn't yet earned.
'Don't count your chickens before they hatch, brother' he thought, and the sole thought of not giving him the satisfaction gave him strength. He pushed the floor beneath him with every ounce of strength he still possessed. His body felt as though the tar had been replaced with rock and something warm dripped from the base of one of his wings. La Muerte's hands wrapped under one of his arms and she pulled him up, helping him onto his feet with care. He leaned on the cracked wall and for a moment, it was as though the world refused to regain it's proper up-and-down...but then it settled, just in time for her to try and drag him forward again. His feet staggered for a moment, then started moving, far slower than before. He choked on a deep breath he'd tried to take and he had to bite back the cough. There was a metallic taste in his mouth that he didn't like one bit. She pulled his arm one more time, but her strength seemed to fade as she realized he couldn't keep running anymore. She stopped, shoulders slumping the slightest, eyes fixed on him with evident sympathy. It was that, that hateful pity in her eyes that made him try and keep walking, quivering legs threatening to throw him to the floor again, but her hands gently grabbed either side of his face.
"Stop"
He looked at her in offended surprise for a moment. What did she mean, stop? They had to move, they had to get away. When he still tried to advance, her arms gently enveloped him around the waist and she embraced him, her head resting on his chest. To say he was shocked would have been an understatement.
"You can't go on like this!" she whispered against the breastplate "Please, Balbi, just...stop"
There was something heartbreaking in itself in the fact that it was her who gave up, of this...farewell-like sweetness in her voice. Defeated, he leaned on her, legs almost giving out again, the sweet smell of her skin flooding his senses. His vision swam for a moment, before recovering, and he set eyes on the gray, sad landscape out the window. So close and yet so far. If only he could get there...if only he could take her there, at the very least… but it was over. She now was El Chamuco's prisoner too. All because of him. His numb arms, immobile at his sides, raised to touch her hair gently, pressing her head to his chest gently. La Muerte didn't deserve this, being at the mercy of a brute just because she had wanted to help him. She really didn't.
"Let go of her" El Chamuco growled at his back, a rush of hot air hitting his wings. A spark, a seed of genius lit on Xibalba's mind, too sudden for him to process it initially "Don't you touch her"
La Muerte held him tighter, as though fearing separation, but his eyes were set on the window. The ash raining down spiraled and sometimes floated back up from the lava moat. Maybe…
"Didn't you hear me?! Get your greedy hands off her!"
"I'll have you know" Xibalba started, hands gently unprying La Muerte's arms from him so he could turn and see El Chamuco, a smirk curving in his mouth "That my greedy hands are on her just because she wants them there"
El Chamuco was speechless, so was La Muerte...and in both cases, it was just the calm before the storm. He could only hope his brother reacted before she did
"Liar" El Chamuco finally spit out, all but shaking in rage. It was like looking at a volcano that's just about to erupt.
"Did what you just see seem like a lie to you?" he pressed further. La Muerte still seemed too stunned to react and he pushed his luck by hooking an arm around her waist "Does this seem like a lie to you too? Is her presence here a lie as well?"
El Chamuco looked at him, then his arm, then La Muerte -who seemed to have decided to seem as secure as he was and follow his lead- then back at him. His eyes glowed with rage, a sound like the bubbling of a hot liquid building from his body.
"I should have torn you apart the first day I saw you together!" he roared, fire spilling from his mouth, hands opening and closing in rage, wings wide-spread behind him, fire covering his shape "I should have known you can't see anything good without coveting it!"
He looked terrifying. Xibalba pushed down the cold settling on his stomach and smiled even wider.
"But you didn't" he pressed her closer to him and she let him do "And now it's too late"
"No!" El Chamuco barked, hooves scratching the floor "You'll sooner burn to crisp than take her away from me!"
"Is it too much to ask that you both stop referring to me as though I were a thing?!" La Muerte growled. Xibalba took a deep breath, easing himself. As if he weren't tired enough, arguing with El Chamuco had always been exhausting.
"How many times must I tell you?" he said in the tone one uses for a stubborn child "I took nothing from you...none of it ever belonged to you to begin with!"
With an inarticulate scream, El Chamuco charged. Xibalba closed his eyes and enveloped La Muerte with his wings and arms, holding her as close as possible, hoping his body would take the entire impact.
He heard the blow rather than feeling it, what he did feel was the impulse as his body was sent through the air and out the window all the same. His wings opened -his left one exploded in a sharp pain- and the hot air hit their open expanse as he closed his arms firmly around La Muerte's waist and she clung from his neck, just in time for when the rush of hot air lifted them up and away. Everything was a blur of rushing wind and the building flying past them, and ash raining...and then one of his wings faltered and they spun to the side, into the a wall. For an agonic moment, it seemed like they would crash onto the stone, but he arched his back, directing them to another window and flapped his wings shut at last moment, wrapping them around La Muerte. They hit the ground. His numb body sprung back to life with a painful jolt at the impact and he gritted his teeth, a low groan escaping his lips, darkness eating up the edges of his vision. He could clearly feel the place at his back, right over his wings, where El Chamuco's horns had cut in. La Muerte immediately stirred in his arms, freeing herself to see his wounds, and he heard a sharp in-take of breath.
"It looks worse than it is" he muttered, starting to get up. Adrenaline pumped through his body and prevented him from fully feeling the pain of his wounds or how exhausted he was. She shook her head angrily, helping him to get onto his feet, like a staggering drunk. The confusion around him took a familiar shape. A hallway...and a pair of double-doors right in front of them. A yard away, at most.
"Don't break the circle!" El Chamuco was calling from the outside, to the dragons, no doubt. Judging by the flapping of his wings, he wasn't far "They have to be here somewhere, and I don't want them teleporting out"
"What a stubborn jerk" Xibalba mustered groggily as La Muerte took the first step, with him leaning on her. Had he had any strength to, he wouldn't have burdened her with the almost-entirety of his burdening weight, but his legs were weaker than ever. To think he could have walked on his own would have been foolish and cost them valuable time.
"Just a little further" La Muerte whispered in encouragement, helping him forward "It's over here, just keep walking"
His feet were all but dragging on the ground. Every breath sent a wave of sharp pain across his chest. Her hand shot forward with a rush of petals and the door sprung open. He inhaled the mossy, damp scent, eyelids fluttering shut...only to be sprung open again almost immediately as she staggered and almost fell down the step. He leaned on a barrel for a moment to help her regain her footing as she extended her hand forward again and swiftly moved it to the side. The lines and lines of bottle cases moved to the side with a loud clanking and some broken bottles, clearing the path to the farthest wall of the room.
"You owe me a dozen" he said. She scoffed.
"Do you ever shut up?" her voice cracked the tiniest bit, and somehow, the thought that she could be so worried about him was gratifying.
"If I ever do, then you have a good reason to worry" he said. The pain was getting worse, the same as his gray, blurry vision. A cough broke from his lips and his hand flew to his mouth, all his efforts focused on regaining his breath. The taste of blood flooded his mouth and when he was able to stop, he was practically gasping, La Muerte held him all through it, worried eyes pinned on him.
"We're almost there..." she whispered.
"I know" he straightened "Don't worry about me, we have to hurry"
"Can you shape-shift right now?" she asked, starting to move again.
"I can try" he heaved out, but the sole thought of having to deconstruct himself and then reconstruct in a smaller shape exhausted him even more than he already was- if such a thing was possible.
"We're going to need to go through a crack, a very narrow one" she warned, perhaps sensing his reluctance.
"Ah" he wet his lips, this was, most definitely, not his lucky day "Well, then there's no helping it, I suppose"
The time he took to take deep breaths and prepare himself sufficed to reach the wall. His hand reached forward for the wall and felt a thin crack, perhaps just thick enough for a human to creep into without much effort. In normal circumstances he wouldn't even have noticed or given the crack any importance. How long had it been there, anyway?
"This is it?"
"Yes"
"Well...here goes nothing" he thought of a stream becoming thinner, scarcer, and found his own body taking a smaller form, as though dripping into a smaller vessel of his body, La Muerte crouching to support his weight all the way down. His head swam a little at the effort, but he found himself a bit less weak when he was done -it was only logical, smaller forms could save energy rather well. She hurriedly shifted to the same size, reaching him before his legs faltered and threw him to the ground. The inside of the crack seemed like a bottomless lake, darkness streatching before them, but she walked into it fearlessly, his body all but resting on top of her.
The darkness was somewhat soothing, or perhaps it was rather the gravity-less state of the place. He felt himself floating off and she hurriedly slipped a hand into his.
"Don't let go"
He squeezed her hand gently.
"My pleasure"
The sound of something heavy colliding with the wall made them both start and drift away. A flurry of fire could be barely made out in it.
"XIBALBAAAA!"
"Oh, for everything sacred–!" he whined. Another loud THUMP resounded and the crack seemed to quiver for a moment.
"Come on!" La Muerte urged, dragging him upwards, or was it forward? It was hard to tell. His eyes found a thin window into something bright and colorful and he knew that was the Land of the Remembered. The hitting behind them became more insistent, El Chamuco letting out furious noises at the fact that the wall held on.
"Xibalba! You will pay for this!" came his voice from the crack.
"You'd have to catch us first!" Xibalba shouted over his shoulder, toothy smile in place.
"A ver, pendejo, can you please stop taunting him?!" La Muerte snapped at him, dragging him faster.
"Please, my dear, it's not like he can reach–" one particularly strong blow and the sound of rock cracking cut his words. He pursed his mouth shut, eyes widening "...on second thought, humility in victory is much more rewarding"
She rolled her eyes at him. They were already at the entrance, and La Muerte was pushing him in first, ready to follow as soon as he was through. Gravity gave him a rough welcome as he crashed onto the soft, warm sand and she followed, dragging him away from the crack before gently laying him down onto his back. Perhaps sensing the loss, El Chamuco let out a long roar that would have made any mortal and even a few minor deities crumble in pure fear. La Muerte glowered at the crack, getting to her feet again.
"And they say I have a bad temper" she panted, before raising both hands in front of her, fingers tense in a commanding movement and then slapping palms together. Obeying her, the crack sealed with a crack, like the lips of a wound being patched together, drowning the last of El Chamuco's voice.
She sank to her knees with evident relief next to Xibalba, who was too busy breathing in. They were safe. She had saved them. Relief flooded him like a potion, exhaustion and pain finally making their way through the muddle of adrenaline.
"Muertita...mi amor..." he muttered, his head too light to realize what he was saying. She started violently at the words, turning to him as though ready to protest, but however bad he looked was enough to make her forget her anger. Judging by how damp the sand beneath him felt, he was loosing a lot of blood.
"Don't speak-!" Her hands frantically shuffled to take one of his and give it a squeeze "We have to get you to the castle!"
He squeezed back for a moment, blackness flooding the edges of his vision again.
"I had to...let him land that blow...I hope you're not hurt..."
She bristled up in a mix of surprise and outrage.
"Me? Look at you...!"
But her voice was becoming a distant sound, and though he knew the words, he couldn't understand them. Her face silhouetted against the dark sky was the last sight before his consciousness slipped away.
C.C (a) The author here.
I dunno what to say to you guys, I was so sure I could sneak the tragic backstory-time in here but it sorta killed the mood and I had to postpone it. It's gonna have to wait until our two dweebs have the time to talk it out calmly, which might not happen for another chapter. I sure hope when you get to read it it's worth the wait!
Also big fight coming, since this one was more of a big escape, but well, it couldn't be otherwise with Xibalba beaten half to pulp XD
Comments are always welcome!