by Lani Forbes
He was furious with her for not being honest with him. But he also couldn’t pretend that a part of him didn’t to want to run to her room and hold her and never let go. To agree with her that the rituals were brutal and awful. But the gods would never forgive him if he did such a thing. Not everything about her had been a lie—that he knew in his heart. But was it enough? Would the empire support his choice of a wife who dishonored the gods and risked bringing disaster upon them all?
Ahkin knew his people. The empire was in a continual panic about the next apocalypse—the next disaster. Their only comfort came from the rituals, from the patterns that promised to keep them safe. To ask them to accept an empress who didn’t agree—Ahkin shivered at the thought.
He couldn’t have her become empress, but the thought of sacrificing her to the gods was equally unbearable. He would just need more time to think about it.
“All three of the captives chose combat instead of voluntarily submitting themselves to the gods,” Yaotl informed him when he arrived at the arena. Tiered stone benches rose around a pit of sand with a single round stone platform at its center.
When a criminal was sentenced to die for his crimes, he had the option of gladiatorial combat to earn his freedom. Of course, the chances of survival were incredibly slim. The victim was tied to the stone platform and given a single weapon to fight against four Jaguar warriors. The criminal was given his freedom if he survived, but Ahkin had never seen the Jaguars defeated.
The Miquitz captives chose that option anyway. He respected their decision. Warriors until the end.
The crowd of onlookers trickled into the seats until a sea of faces surrounded them on all sides. Toani stood by the altar at the back of the arena, where a bowl of flames awaited the hearts of the victims.
The princesses filed in to his left, taking their seats along the bench behind the stone throne where he would watch.
His eyes flickered to Mayana, who was obviously trying to get his attention, then forced himself to look away. He hadn’t made any decisions yet, and he didn’t want to give her false hope.
How would Mayana handle watching a human sacrifice, having never been to Tollan to see one before? He took a deep breath. They were about to find out.
Several Jaguar warriors led the first of the sacrificial captives toward the round stone platform. The man wore the dyed black costume he had fought in at the battle at Millacatl, painted to resemble a skeleton. A thick stripe of black face paint had covered his eyes at one point, but it was mostly smeared now.
Two Jaguar warriors held the captive in place by his arms while a third tied a rope around his waist. The man’s eyes darted side to side like those of a cornered beast, and he flinched as he was handed a shield and a dull wooden club.
Ahkin rose to his feet and raised a hand for silence.
“You have been captured by the Chicome Empire and will now be sacrificed to the goddess Ometeotl to honor the sacrifices made by her divine children.” His voice was deep and powerful as it echoed around the arena, far steadier than he felt. He moved to sit back down.
“Wait, my lord,” the captive yelled out to him, pulling against the bonds that held him to the platform.
Ahkin froze. He furrowed his brow and straightened back up. What could this man possibly want? He took several steps forward, scrutinizing the sacrificial victim before him. “Is there something you wish to say?”
“Yes,” the man gasped. “You must listen, prince of light, the fate of our world depends on you.”
Ahkin tensed and took a step toward the man. Something about his desperation was unnerving. Metzi fidgeted beside him.
“What do you mean?”
“We had to lure you onto the battlefield. Our priest insisted that if we did not capture you and sacrifice you …”
“Are you not aware that you and your people rely on the power of my blood as much as the Chicome? You need the sun to rise as much as we do.”
“Exactly.” The captive fell to his knees, dropping the shield and club to the ground and opening his hands toward the prince. “We will all perish without the light of the sun, and the Seventh Sun is dying. The next apocalypse is upon us all. Surely your holy scholars have read the signs in the heavens.”
Ahkin swore loudly and looked around the arena. The faces of the people betrayed their shock and fear. Panicked whispers swept through the crowd like an angry wind, gathering strength until the whispers turned into yells and screams. Ahkin had prayed the people of the empire would not notice the sun was dying until he had figured out a plan to save them. Maybe he was foolish for hoping he had more time. He knew they would notice eventually, and their reactions would incite empire-wide chaos.
The sound of a conch horn cut through the cacophony of voices, bringing the attention of the audience back to the arena floor. Ahkin nodded toward Yaotl, thanking him for his timely intervention, and raised his arms toward his subjects. He had to keep them calm to protect them from themselves.
“It is true that the sun sets earlier and earlier each night, but we have not given up hope that we can find a way to save the seventh people. As we speak, my priests work tirelessly to divine the secrets of the stars for a way to avoid—”
“There is only one way to save the sun,” the high-pitched and panicked voice of the captive interrupted. The man strained against the ropes. “You are the only way.”
A silence fell over the arena, thick and tense. The weight of every set of eyes upon him, Ahkin felt acutely aware of how hard his heart was throwing itself against his ribcage. A terrible thought had formed in his mind. His blood was the only way to feed the sun …
“The sun needs the blood of the gods, and the blood of the sun god himself stands before me.” The captive said the words so softly only Ahkin and those closest to him could hear them.
The air whooshed from Ahkin’s lungs. Flashes of images swirled in his mind, condensing into a larger picture that Ahkin had not considered before. It was as if he had been putting every ounce of his strength into studying a single star, only to realize that the star was part of a much larger constellation.
The first sun had been created from the blood of his ancestor, the god Huitzilopochtli. He was no longer here to die for them, but his divine blood still walked this earth. Ahkin stared down at his wrist, at the bluish lines that pulsed beneath the skin. The veins that flowed with the blood of Huitzilopochtli. Toani had said that he worried that the god’s blood had become so diluted over the years that the drops of his blood on the sacrificial papers no longer contained enough power to keep the sun alive.
But … what if the answer was that the sun needed more? Would all of his blood, spilled like his ancestor’s, give the sun the strength it needed? Ahkin was not a god, but the apocalypse had not happened yet. They didn’t need to create an entirely new sun. Maybe the blood of a demigod would be enough to prevent theirs from being destroyed.
He would have to die. He would have to give his life as a sacrifice for the lives of his people. He would need to be as brave as his mother. That would be enough to save the sun. Metzi could raise it each morning after he was gone. Thank Ometeotl he had a sister to fulfill that responsibility after he was gone. His eyes found her looking at him with deep concern etched onto her beautiful features. Metzi was strong, and with the storm prince of Ehecatl by her side, he was sure she would make an excellent empress.
The answer was so obvious, Ahkin was surprised he hadn’t seen it before. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to see it because he had been too focused on Mayana. So much foolish time had been wasted trying to find a wife, when in reality he wasn’t going to need one at all.
A determined calm settled over him. He could never be the ruler his people needed anyway. Ahkin hated floundering in indecision or chaotic emotions. He just wanted a plan. He wanted to know what had to be done so he could quiet his mind and focus on the task at hand.
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“Yaotl,” Ahkin said quietly.
“No, my lord. I know where your thoughts have gone, and I don’t think—”
“What are we discussing?” Toani had crossed the arena to join them.
“Ahkin is thinking that sacrificing himself will save the sun.” Yaotl crossed his arms across his chest, exasperation clear in the set of his wide mouth.
“The sun is dying.” Ahkin surprised himself at how calm he was able to keep his voice. “My blood nourishes the sun. It makes perfect sense.”
Toani’s deep eyes bore into Ahkin’s. Ahkin could practically see the pieces coming together inside the priest’s mind before the weathered face crumpled in pain.
“I am so sorry, my prince.” Toani’s sad eyes shimmered slightly. “But I see the same solution. I am afraid it may be the only way. Your blood is no longer strong enough. The gods must be demanding more.”
Ahkin took a deep breath, his suspicions confirmed. He was not enough. Not unless he had the courage to follow the gods with the same devotion as his mother. A true test of the strength of his faith.
“Well, what are we waiting for then? Toani, how do we proceed?”
Yaotl looked as though he wanted to object, but the warrior bit his tongue when Ahkin gave him a sharp look.
The priest pondered for the length of several heartbeats. “Huitzilopochtli was the first of the gods to give his own blood to create a sun, and he threw himself into the pit of Xibalba.”
“I think I would prefer that to a gladiatorial sacrifice, to be honest.” Ahkin gave Yaotl a pained look. “I would not ask you to kill me.”
Yaotl harrumphed but kept his opinions to himself.
“Then you will hurl yourself into the depths of Xibalba. I recommend stabbing yourself first to make sure a sufficient amount of blood is exposed before you fall.”
The content of the conversation momentarily stunned Ahkin. Here they were discussing how he was going to take his own life. This certainly wasn’t the direction he had expected the day to take. Why had it taken the word of a captured Miquitz soldier to finally make him realize? Not that his decision was based on the soldier. Ahkin felt the truth of his words deep inside his bones. He wasn’t strong enough to lead his people; he hadn’t even saved those peasants from the Miquitz. His faith in the gods hadn’t been strong enough; a secret piece of his heart rejected the gods’ demands for his mother to take her own life.
“Won’t my blood spill when I crash into the floor of the underworld?” Ahkin asked, internally flinching at the morbidity of the thought.
“Oh no. You will not hit a floor when you fall.” Toani frowned. “The first level of the underworld is the Sea of the Dead. Those who enter must escape the jaws of the sea monster Cipactli. If they are devoured, they will never reach the shore to finish their journey through the other layers of the underworld. Only through proving your worth in the various trials of each layer can you earn a place in a paradise.”
Ahkin’s stomach clenched. “How … encouraging.” He had studied the codices on the layers of creation, but not extensively. He wished he had more knowledge to prepare him for what he was about to face.
“Well, living bodies do not usually enter directly into Xibalba. It is their souls that enter, after their bodies decompose and release them. But if you choose to die in the manner of your ancestor, entering the underworld with your heart still beating and in your physical body, you will face Cipactli.”
“Then I will do what I must. My death will bring salvation to our people either way. Whether or not my soul survives the journey through the underworld and makes it to a paradise is my own concern.” Ahkin spoke far more confidently than he felt. He wondered briefly what history would say about his short reign. He hoped he would be remembered for being brave enough to do what was necessary. Hopefully he would be remembered for having the same devotion his mother had.
“What do we do with the Miquitz captives, my lord?” Yaotl interrupted, bringing Ahkin’s attention back to the skeleton man still tied to the stone platform.
“Actually,” Ahkin was struck with a sudden idea, “see if their priest will trade them for the lives of the peasants they captured. Make sure the death priest knows that I will have done my duty and given my blood.” Another star in the overall constellation burned into existence. He understood now that the whole reason the Miquitz were capturing peasants was to gain Ahkin’s retaliation—to get him onto the battlefield so they could capture him. They knew his blood would save the sun.
“Let’s gather at the entrance to Xibalba, and then I will make my announcement to the nobility.” He let his gaze drift toward the bench, where the princesses watched him with concern. Mayana was leaning toward him, her face pleading, but he quickly diverted his eyes. Whatever she had to say to him now would be meaningless. It would only lead to more pain. In many ways, his heart was still hers despite everything that had happened, despite what he knew to be reasonable, but it didn’t matter anymore.
“I’m ready,” he said, more to himself than to his two most trusted advisors. The longer he waited, the harder this was going to be. “Let’s go.”
Chapter
49
“Where are we going?” Yemania asked. She turned her head to look around the crowd filing out of the sacrificial arena as though someone there could tell them.
Mayana pressed in close beside her, foreboding churning her stomach. Now everyone thought the sun was dying. Not a soul aside from Coatl and Metzi, and now Mayana, knew the truth about why the sun was setting earlier. And though she knew who was responsible for setting the sun, she still didn’t know why. How could Metzi think this would save her from going to Ehecatl?
All around them, the air crackled with frantic energy. Whispers and nervous glances toward the sun dominated the scene. Mayana felt the nervousness seep into her. Her pulse pounded behind her ears.
When most of the city had dispersed out onto the cobblestone streets of Tollan, she caught sight of Atanzah. She was waiting for them at the entrance, motioning with a wrinkled hand for the princesses to gather around her.
“The prince has requested the presence of the nobility and religious leaders at the pit of Xibalba. He wishes to make an important announcement.”
Yemania stumbled, her knees giving out beneath her. Mayana reached out an arm to steady her.
“This is it,” she whispered to Mayana. “The prince has made his decision and he will sacrifice the rest of us.”
Mayana pursed her lips. “I’m not sure that’s what this is about.”
“Yes, it is.” Yemania wailed like a woman in mourning. “We’re going to be thrown into the pit of Xibalba.”
“Who would he even pick? He hasn’t spent any time with anyone but me,” Mayana said.
“He’s not choosing you.” Teniza’s usually beautiful face scrunched in a sneer from across the circle of gathered girls. “So, you and Yemania can die together like you planned.”
“Ladies, please.” Atanzah held up a hand between them. “I do not know what this is about either, but I am sure the prince will inform us when we are all gathered.”
Mayana wanted to barrel through the crowd, push them all aside until she found Ahkin. Even if he chose another princess, he still needed to know what she had seen in the garden. He needed to know that it was Metzi who was setting the sun. The Jaguar warriors, posted outside both entrances to Mayana’s room, had kept her isolated until they had escorted her to the arena this morning. She had paced her room all night, trying to no avail to find a way past them. Mayana had eventually decided to tell him after the sacrifices, but no one expected the ceremony to end so quickly. No one expected the captive to announce to the city that the sun was dying.
The princesses wound their way through the palace halls and into the expansive pleasure gardens. Mayana tried not to look at the pool where she and Ahkin had enjoyed eac
h other’s company, and yet her eyes were drawn to it all the same. Her chest constricted at the memories of his warm body pressed against hers in the cold water, the feel of his slick hair beneath her twisting fingers. Mayana drew a tremulous breath and focused her attention toward the back of the garden, where the edge dropped into terraces and then the cliff face.
On the final terrace, the stone platform kissed the cliff’s edge, the same she and Ahkin had visited that night in the gardens. Ahkin had told her that a massive sinkhole waited on the jungle floor at the cliff’s bottom, leading not into the earth, but into the underworld itself. Supposedly this was where the sun god had sacrificed himself to create the very first sun. Huitzilopochtli had spilled his own blood and then hurled himself into the abyss. His brother, Tecuciztecatl, the god of snails, had been jealous, and threw himself into the underworld as well. But the world could not handle two suns, so the gods threw a rabbit into the face of Tecuciztecatl, and he became the moon instead.
Mayana supposed that was the story depicted by the hieroglyphs adorning the sides of the platform and the pillars. A small crowd of important nobles and religious leaders had already gathered around the platform, where Ahkin stood with the high priest. Mayana studied his face but couldn’t decide what she saw there. Was he angry? Afraid? Something in the way he clenched his jaw told Mayana that he wanted to get whatever ritual this was over with as soon as possible.
Fear spider-walked down her spine. Could he be making the selection for his wife? Surely not without the matchmaker’s approval. Unless … had he already gotten approval for someone else and she didn’t know? He still refused to make eye contact with her, and that knowledge only enhanced her anxiety. If he was making his choice now, he wasn’t choosing her. At least her family was not here to watch.