by Lani Forbes
Because that’s what she was now. A criminal. A traitor. She had betrayed the empress, the gods’ chosen vessel to lead the empire. To challenge her word was to challenge the word of the gods, and now Yemania would be paying her penance for that sin for the rest of her afterlife through the layers of Xibalba.
The inner bowels of the temple were still warm and humid, heated by the jungle air seeping in from above. Yemania felt as if she were sitting in the mouth of a great beast, waiting for it to swallow her whole. She pulled her knees in tighter against her chest, hugging them for comfort.
“Why do you just accept your fate?” rasped a voice from the bundle of rags. The figure within them shifted and slowly sat up.
“What choice do I have?” Yemania said, her voice thick from crying. Something scuttled in one of the dark corners of the room and she flinched away from it.
“You seem like the type to have more fight in you, that’s all.” The rags shifted further, and Yemania saw that the other prisoner was an elderly woman. Her face was deeply lined, and her dark hair swirled with white into a bun on the top of her head. What could an older woman have done to deserve such criminal treatment?
“Why are you here?” Yemania asked.
“I’m here because I want to be. But I’m thinking I’ll leave soon.” Her voice was still raspy, but Yemania sensed a tint of madness. Perhaps the old crone was insane and a danger to herself and others.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Yemania said, “but I don’t think either of us will be leaving until they lead us to the sacrificial altar.” Her eyes darted to the thick stone rolled across the entrance to their chamber. There weren’t even any windows, so she had no idea how close to morning it was. The only indication of time passing was the torch burning lower and lower.
The old woman fiddled with something in her hands, and Yemania stretched her neck to see what it was. A tiny red dress. A small humanoid shape.
“How do you have a doll?” Yemania asked. “Did they let you bring it with you?”
“No one lets me do anything, daughter of healing. I do as I wish.”
“Mm-hmm.” Yemania knew better than to argue with someone whose mind was obviously lost.
“Do you want to see what I’ve made?” she croaked, a glint in her dark eye.
“Um, sure.” Yemania couldn’t see any harm in entertaining her. She imagined she would be strong enough to fight her off if she needed to. But so far the crone seemed harmless.
The woman hobbled toward her on spindly legs. As the rags fell off completely, Yemania noticed her dress was woven in an intricate geometric pattern of white and black. How could a woman like her afford such a beautiful garment?
She stopped right in front of her, and Yemania instinctively leaned back. The woman held out the doll for Yemania to take, and she did so with shaking fingers.
The tiny red dress, a tunic dress, was cut exactly like her own. The doll had long dark hair, a puckered little mouth, and sad slanting eyes of thread. Its nose seemed slightly too large for its face, and there were red whorls of paint across the cheeks. A tiny red pendant even hung around its neck.
Yemania frowned as she studied it, a thrill of unease raising the hairs on her arms. “Is this—is this supposed to be me?” She locked eyes with the old woman.
The wrinkled face split into a wide-toothed grin. “Indeed, daughter of healing. I’ve been working on it for some time. I think I’ve almost got it right.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you make a doll of me? I’ve never met you before.” The unease was solidifying into full-blown fear. She threw the doll on the ground at the old woman’s feet and scooted away from her.
The woman bent down and retrieved the doll from the grime of the chamber floor. She brushed it off gently with loving fingers.
“You should treat yourself with more care,” she cawed like a crow, her face crumpling into a frown.
“I don’t know who you are or what you—” Yemania started to say.
“You know, Mayana had a very similar reaction when she met me. She didn’t trust me in the slightest.”
“Mayana? You knew Mayana?”
“I know Mayana.” The old woman jutted her chin into the air.
“Then I’m sorry to tell you, but Mayana is dead. She’s gone. Like you and I are going to be in the morning.”
But the wide-toothed grin was back. “I don’t think either of us is going to die tomorrow. Because you see, my child, I cannot die. And I don’t think I’m going to let you either. Not tomorrow, anyway.”
“You are insane.” Yemania huffed, burying her face into her knees.
“You would really call the Mother of creation insane?”
Mother of—? Yemania slowly lifted her head, her eyes wide in disbelief. No. That wasn’t possible. This old woman was not—
“You may call me Ometeotl. Mother, and technically Father, of creation. I am the duality, the light and the dark, the earth and sky, the sacred two energies.”
A soft glow surrounded her, filling the chamber and chasing the shadows away until every stone in the wall seemed to shine with golden light. It was almost too much for Yemania to behold. She felt her mouth gape open, and without hesitation, she prostrated herself on the floor in front of the goddess.
“No, no, no. None of that. We don’t have time.” Ometeotl reached down and lifted Yemania’s chin. “Get up, my child.”
“Wh-wh-wh—” Terror and awe mingled inside her with such intensity that Yemania couldn’t decide which emotion to feel. Nor could she apparently decide what to say. What does anyone say to the creator of the universe?
“I am here because I needed to give you this.” Ometeotl again handed her the doll.
“You came to me to give me a doll?”
Ometeotl chuckled. “I came to give you yourself .”
Yemania frowned even deeper, causing the goddess to sigh in exasperation. “Humans,” she muttered. “Let me try another way. My daughter of healing, do you think I make mistakes?”
Yemania shook her head. “No, of course not, great Mother.”
“Then why do you question what I made you to be?”
Yemania opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it again.
Ometeotl smiled warmly at her. “You think you do not matter, that you have no value. That everyone is willing to toss you aside like a husk of maize.”
Tears swam behind Yemania’s eyes, and she swallowed hard to hold them back. She did not answer.
“You, Yemania of Pahtia, are my treasure. I made you. I designed you exactly as I meant you to be. And as we both agree, I do not make mistakes. You have an important role to play in the coming weeks. A role that you and you alone can fill. I need you. And Mayana will need you.”
“Mayana is still alive?” Yemania gasped.
Ometeotl scrunched her face in concentration, as though she was trying to see something far away. “Hmm, yes, for now she is still alive. I’m hoping she remains that way. But I have faith in her, as I do in you.”
Yemania fell silent for several moments, trying to collect her thoughts. But there was still something she wrestled with. “How am I supposed to believe I have worth when everyone around me treats me like I don’t?”
A shadow crossed Ometeotl’s ancient face. “Sometimes my creations can be cruel to each other. You cannot let your own worth be determined by others. You and you alone decide that. Your worth comes from the fact that you are my creation. Uniquely gifted. No one gets to take that away from you. What is it that darling boy of yours said? ‘It is only by my hand, by my face, my heart, my spirit that either I will wither, or I will bloom.’ It was the truth you needed to hear, Yemania. You alone will choose whether you wither or bloom.”
Yemania let out a small sob at the mention of Ochix. “Is he . . . ?”
“He’s fine
, dear child. And if I know him, which I do—I did make him, after all—he is fighting to find a way back to you. So, are you going to fight to find a way back to him? Can you believe that you are worth it? I think if you look close enough, you will find there is much for you to be proud of.”
Could she? Could she believe she mattered? Not because her family thought she did, or because a prince chose her above all others, but because she was created to be exactly herself? Her gaze fell to the tiny doll in her hands, to its sad-looking eyes. She was a gifted healer. She had a heart of compassion and love for everyone, no matter their status or nationality. She was a kind sister, even when her brother did not deserve it. She was clever and full of passion for helping others. A smile tugged at her mouth—she could even start a fire with her own two hands.
And she could decide her worth for herself.
Ochix had loved her not because she was the most beautiful, the most powerful, the most influential princess in the empire. He had seen her. Really seen her. He had noticed her because of her heart, and he had found her to be beautiful. The question was, could she see those things for herself?
“Yes,” Yemania whispered.
“What was that, dear?” Ometeotl leaned in, her thin lips curving into a smile.
“Yes, I can believe I’m worth it,” she said louder, her voice echoing around the stone walls.
“Good, because like I said, I’m going to need you. So let’s get you out of here, shall we?” Ometeotl rubbed her hands together. When she opened them again, a bulbous black-and-yellow spider was sitting on her palm.
“Here,” she said, offering Yemania the spider.
Yemania arched an eyebrow. “Um, how is a spider going to help me escape?”
The Mother goddess snapped her fingers and a walnut shell appeared in her other hand. She pushed the little insect into the shell with a nudge of her finger and closed the lid. “Trust me, this will be all you need to escape. And when you do, head for Omitl. You will know what to do when you get there. Ochix will find you on the way.”
Yemania had no idea how the spider would help, but she took it anyway. Who was she to question the goddess? “I—um, okay. I’ll trust you.”
“Good. Do me a favor and if you see Mayana, tell her she could learn a lesson from you,” she said with a wink. “And keep the doll. I think it’s finally finished.”
Yemania blinked, and Ometeotl was gone.
All that was left were the little walnut shell containing the black-and-yellow spider and the tiny doll version of herself.
Yemania smiled as she looked down at the doll. Its eyes were no longer slanting down in sadness, but quirked up, as if the doll itself were smiling too.
Chapter
39
It was the last day they had to escape Xibalba, and Mayana anxiously wanted to get moving. The morning had already turned into afternoon, but still she let Ahkin sleep. She knew they would never make it through whatever trials the city held if they did not have their full strength. Finally her anxiety got the better of her, and she tapped him gently. Ona licked his face too, which definitely helped.
Ahkin jerked awake, his hand darting to the knife on his waistband.
“We need to get moving. The day is already half gone, and if we don’t escape by tonight . . .” She didn’t need to finish that thought.
Together, they finished off the last of the maize kernels in the bag the Mother goddess had given them. Now all that remained were the bleached white bones of her mother and the walnut shell containing a tiny worm. Mayana still didn’t know the purpose of the worm. Perhaps it had been the goddess’s idea of a joke.
“Since I know you like plans so much, what’s ours?” she asked him.
Ahkin tried to smile. “I know we need to find the council chamber of the lords of Xibalba. We will need to ask to speak to Cizin, the Lord of Death himself. The legends say that the council will try to humiliate any who enter.”
“You don’t know how?”
Ahkin shook his head, looking disappointed with himself.
Mayana perched her hands on her hips. “We will need to be careful and clever and quick.”
“My specialty.” Ahkin gave her a roguish smile.
Mayana rolled her eyes with a good-natured sigh and started walking toward the obsidian stairs.
Ahkin scrambled to his feet after her.
The cliff above them was not tall, but the obsidian stairs snaked their way up, lined on either side by flaming torches. At first, Mayana didn’t think anything of the torches—and then she noticed them burning in human skulls.
How in the nine hells were they supposed to survive a place that lined its welcoming steps with skull torches?
They crested the final steps and emerged onto a great plaza. And what Mayana saw ripped the air from her lungs and turned her legs to stone. She could not force herself to move forward.
The city was surrounded by volcanic mountains, their peaks glowing like embers and oozing liquid fire down their craggy sides. Because the mountains were so tall, it seemed to be cast in shadows, yet everything was tinged with red and orange light that reflected off the smooth glass of the numerous tiered pyramids. The entire city seemed to be consumed with fire.
But it was indeed a city. There were seven large pyramids, three on each side of a main plaza, with the largest pyramid at the head, almost too far away to see clearly. Around each pyramid clustered gardens and smaller structures. The main pyramid appeared to be shaped like the flaring roots of a massive ceiba tree, complete with spikes that looked longer than Mayana’s entire body. The underworld was said to contain the roots of the great tree that spanned creation, so she immediately understood the significance of the main temple’s structure. She had a feeling that was their destination if they wanted to reach the overworld.
Also like a city, the main plaza and avenue buzzed with activity, like an active beehive. Except that these were not bees—or even humans—that bustled about.
They were demons.
Mayana had never seen demons before, and now she wished to never see them again. They were as varied in color as the flowers in the jungles of her home: deep red like the color of a muddy riverbank, vibrant green like a freshly cut vine, as yellow as a snake’s eyes. And their shapes were just as different. Some stood barely to her knees, stocky and rounded as they waddled down the street. Others were thin and as tall as trees, dragging long, spindly fingers along the ground. Some had legs or feet that faced the wrong way. Some were missing eyes or had far too many. A few even looked like children, but with bone-like horns projecting from their smooth heads and blood dripping from their pointed teeth.
Mayana’s palms were slick with sweat. She tried to wipe them against her legs. She found herself so close to Ahkin that she imagined she could hear the frantic beating of his heart. Her hand reached out and clenched his arm, while he moved the shield from his back to a ready position in front of him. Her stomach was so tight she feared it might reject the last of the maize she’d eaten. Ona would not move from between her legs. His whimpers of fear intensified her own feelings of dread.
“What are they?” she whispered in Ahkin’s ear. “Why do they all look so different?”
Ahkin snaked his bad hand behind her waist and held her close. “They serve the different lords of Xibalba. They are sent above to wreak havoc and to bring ailments and torture to anyone unlucky enough to come across them. They roam the jungles at night.”
Mayana swallowed hard. She’d never be tempted to break curfew again if those things roamed the jungles. No wonder the Chicome were so strict about staying inside at night.
“Will they let us pass?”
“I doubt it. They take pleasure in torturing humans.” Ahkin lifted his shield higher. “Best to stay hidden, I think.”
Mayana assumed that he had cut his finger at some point, because when she
looked down at her hand, she could no longer see it. He was bending the light around them to hide them from view.
“Let’s hope they can’t sense us in other ways,” he said.
They carefully stayed off the main avenue, avoiding contact with any of the passing demons. They hugged the walls of various structures littering the bases of the smaller temples, stopping every so often and holding their breath if anything came too close. Each demon they passed seemed even more terrifying than the last. After passing a tall, sickly yellow demon with human hands and feet impaled upon long spikes along its back, Mayana decided to keep her eyes trained on her feet to keep herself from vomiting.
Ahkin slowed them to a stop and pressed them against another wall. A bat-winged demon that looked as though it had been carved from angular obsidian turned its burning red eyes toward them as though it could see. It released a forked tongue from its snakelike face, and Ahkin quickly rushed them on. Ona nearly tripped her as they ran, the poor dog refusing to leave the shelter of her legs.
There were so many close calls, Mayana was sure they’d be caught. All too soon, and yet not fast enough, they reached the narrow steps of the main temple pyramid. It had taken almost the entire afternoon to sneak across the city unseen, slowly inching their way through crowded marketplaces and streets. By the time they reached the temple, night was already starting to fall. They didn’t have much time left to escape. The steps were as impossibly narrow as the steps of her temple back home, the same steps her mother met her death upon. Mayana squeezed her bag for comfort, reminding herself that if they could escape, she could correct that grave mistake.
And so they began to climb. Ahkin kept them hidden from view so that none of the demons rushing up and down the steps would notice them. Mayana bent forward to climb up the massive stairs, wondering if they had been built to be so tall on purpose. She felt as though she were groveling at the Lord of Death’s doorstep. The gathering darkness of night unsettled her stomach. They had to hurry. And they would have to reveal themselves eventually if they wanted an audience with Cizin—though part of Mayana wished they could remain hidden forever.