The Jade Bones

by Lani Forbes

  It took them almost an hour to climb the pyramid stairs. At the top, a black stone building with columns made of more piled human bones greeted them. The walls were smooth and reflected the flickering light of the volcanoes around them. Mayana briefly thought of Yoli and wished the princess of fire was here with them. Her odd sense of humor would be a welcome distraction. But the building seemed to have no doors. The demons walked right through the smooth stone wall as if it were a curtain. Ahkin pressed his hand against the stone, but it remained solid and immovable. Apparently, humans were not allowed to enter as easily as the demons doing their masters’ bidding.

  “If you wish to enter, you must first pass a test,” said a voice as cold and ancient as a star demon.

  Mayana whipped around, looking for the source of the speaker. But instead of a demon standing nearby, a skull appeared within the wall itself, as if the bone-white face was trapped within the fire glass. It was completely fleshless, no eyes in its inky black sockets.

  “If you wish to enter, you must first pass a test,” it repeated. Fingers of ice reached their way down Mayana’s back.

  “Hasn’t everything here already been a test?” Ahkin grumbled.

  The skull smiled—well, Mayana supposed it smiled. At least, it opened its mouth and did not speak again.

  “Wh-what is the test?” Mayana asked.

  “You must play the conch.”

  “Conch?” Ahkin said. “What conch? I don’t see a seashell any—” but a clatter sounded at their feet. Mayana and Ahkin both looked down to see a beautiful conch shell, bone white and pink, waiting as if it had been there all along.

  “Prove you are clever enough. Play the conch,” the skull repeated. “And then you shall be allowed to enter.”

  Ahkin strapped his shield onto his back, stooped down, and lifted the shell. He turned it over in his hands. There were no holes to play the shell like a horn.

  “How am I supposed to play it if there is no hole?” he asked the skull.

  Again, it did not answer.

  “I remember this story,” Mayana said quickly. “Quetzalcoatl had to play a conch shell when he came to rescue the bones of humanity. But there were no holes in it!”

  Ahkin waited with wide eyes. “And? How did he do it?”

  Mayana chewed on her thumbnail for a few moments, trying to remember the story she had heard as a child. Then it came back to her. “He put bees in it!”

  Ahkin swore. “We don’t have any bees!”

  “But we do have a worm! A worm that likes to bite, remember?” She was already digging in her bag for the walnut shell. When the Mother goddess had given them the tiny white worm as one of her odd gifts that day on the beach, Ahkin had opened the walnut shell. The worm had bitten a perfect circle into his palm before Ona healed it.

  Ona sniffed at the shell and sneezed when Mayana held it out on her palm.

  “The shell may not have holes to play it like a war horn yet, but drop this worm on it and I guarantee it will have holes within a few heartbeats.”

  Ahkin held the shell out to her. Mayana opened the walnut and released the tiny, wiggling worm onto its surface.

  The little worm lifted its head and immediately arched toward the shell, taking a tiny bite with a surprisingly loud crunch.

  “Have it bite the end here.” Ahkin indicated the pointed tip of the conch. “We use conch horns on the battlefield. I’ve seen where they drill into them with tools.”

  Mayana scooped up the worm back into the walnut shell and moved it to the pointed top. With another loud crunch, the worm bit the point clean off. Back into the walnut shell it went and safely into Mayana’s bag.

  She tried to mimic the skull’s eerie voice. “Go ahead. Play the conch, Ahkin.”

  “Play the conch,” the skull repeated, as though unsatisfied with Mayana’s attempt to be eerie and needing to upstage her.

  Ahkin lifted the shell to his lips and took a deep breath. He blew.

  The deep, resonant sound echoed around them, loud enough that it carried down the steps of the temple and back toward the main avenue. Every demon they could see froze and turned its eyes expectantly to the top of the temple. They all knew the horn meant one thing.

  Humans were here to see the lords of Xibalba.

  Chapter

  40

  Yemania dozed in and out, confident in the Mother’s promise that she would not die come sunrise. Finally, when the torch’s light was close to burning out entirely, there came a scraping of stone at the chamber’s entrance.

  Yemania straightened up, tightening her grip on the doll and walnut shell.

  “Yem? Yem? Are you in there?”

  Bile rose up in her throat at the sound of Coatl’s voice.

  She didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. “Yes, I’m in here. Do you really think I’d be anywhere else?”

  Coatl whispered to the guards outside, and the fading slapping of several pairs of sandals on stone told her he’d asked the guards to give them some privacy. She snorted. He probably didn’t want them overhearing whatever she was about to scream at him.

  Always protecting himself.

  “What do you want, Coatl? Come to say goodbye before your girlfriend rips my heart out?”

  “You can’t be mad at me, Yem.” He stepped into the dimming room. The fading torchlight glinted off the ruby pendant hanging against his bare chest.

  “Oh, I can’t be mad at you for selling me out? For using me and Ochix to get what you wanted at the expense of my life?”

  “You’re being so dramatic.” Coatl sniffed.

  “I’m not being dramatic. I have a right to be upset about what you did to me. I have a right to beat your face in too, come to think of it.”

  Coatl stopped coming toward her. He threw his hands in the air in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? I was losing her, Yemania. It was the only way to—”

  “And you were okay with losing me? Sacrificing me for the sake of getting what you want? You used to stand up for me, protect me from Father when he was in his rages. What happened to that Coatl? Did our father eventually break him so completely that he forgot how to care about anyone but himself?” Yemania got to her feet and stalked toward her brother.

  Coatl held his ground. “You’re twisting what happened. You’re the one who went behind everyone’s back with Ochix. He didn’t even care about you, he was using you because you were desperate enough for someone to give you any scrap of attention.”

  “No,” Yemania said, standing almost nose to chest with him. She tilted her face up to glare at him. “You’re wrong. He loves me because he knows what an incredible healer I am. He sees my heart and my cleverness. He thinks I’m beautiful. And I will not let you or Metzi or our parents or anyone ever make me doubt myself and my own value ever again. You don’t get to decide if I’m worth sacrificing or not.” She jabbed her finger into the glistening ruby of the amulet on his chest. “A true healer does not harm others, especially for their own selfish desires. You are not a true healer, Coatl. Not anymore.” She took a deep breath. “But I am. I am the true High Healer of Tollan, whether I wear that amulet or not. And I hope you never forget that.”

  Coatl stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide with terror. He’d never seen her lose her temper like this before. The only time she’d seen him look this afraid was when they were children and he had been bitten by the . . .

  Yemania gasped in realization, and her attention drew to the walnut shell hidden in her closed hand. Ometeotl had said the spider would be the key to her escape, and now she knew exactly how.

  “Where are the guards?” she asked quietly.

  Coatl rubbed his face, obviously relieved that she had calmed down. “I sent them to take a break. I told them I would make sure you didn’t escape.”

  “Why?”

  “Well
, I couldn’t have them hearing if you started talking about how Emperor Acatl really died.”

  Perfect. Yemania pretended to sniff. “I’m sorry, brother. I understand why you chose Metzi. I saw how much losing her destroyed you.”

  “Aw, Yem . . .” he said, reaching out and drawing her toward him for an embrace.

  Yemania let him. Pretending to shake with sobs, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him. “I’m going to miss you, brother,” she said, adding a small choking sound for emphasis.

  Coatl embraced her back. “I wish there were another way.”

  “Actually, there is,” she whispered in his ear, just as she opened the walnut shell over the back of his neck.

  She pulled away, and it took about two seconds before Coatl’s eyes went wide. She imagined he felt the awful sensation of tiny legs scuttling over his skin. His back arched and his hand flew to his neck. He let out a panicked scream as he began to throw his shoulders back and forth in a terrible dance to try and dislodge his worst nightmare.

  Yemania didn’t wait to see if he managed to get the spider off—she sprinted for the chamber’s entrance.

  With no guards standing outside, there was no one to stop her from bolting down the long, labyrinthine hallways. Dawn was quickly approaching, and through the stone slit windows she could see the Seventh Sun’s glow beginning to lighten the inky blackness of the night sky. The city would be stirring awake. Yemania raced toward the exit, knocking over a Tlana priest carrying a stack of codex sheets as she barreled past.

  “I’m sorry!” she threw over her shoulder, but she did not stop.

  Sweat clung to her skin as she finally burst into the open air. Her feet raced down the narrow temple steps, her eyes focused on the distant city gate that led down the plateau’s steep cliffs and into the jungles beyond. Shouting sounded behind her when she reached the bottom of the steps. A handful of Eagle warriors appeared above her, pointing and beginning their own descent down the side of the massive Temple of the Sun.

  Yemania panted for breath, and a painful stitch in her side almost made her double over. But if she stopped now, she’d never make it out of Tollan. She focused her attention on the marketplace that sprawled out on the plaza in the temple’s shadow. It wasn’t crowded yet, but the earliest risers were already teeming through the stalls. If she had any chance to lose the guards, it was there.

  The plaza in Tollan was the largest in the empire. Tens of thousands of Chicome citizens were said to visit the sprawling marketplace in a single month. Each city-state had its own local market, but Tollan was where foreign traders convened to sell luxury items in addition to the daily necessities. Here you could find produce ranging from bulbous red tomatoes to shining green peppers, ears of maize in every color imaginable, bone needles and wool for weaving, blankets and clothing, dyes and herbs from various jungle plants, basic clay pottery and delicate ceramic vessels too expensive for the common citizen to afford. There were baskets overflowing with freshly caught fish, animal pelts from deer and wolves, and cages containing live monkeys, birds, and dogs. Jewelry and brightly colored feathers from exotic jungle birds hung from racks to tempt the wealthy merchants and nobility. Finally, meandering throughout the masses of people and goods were government officials, clothed in golden cloaks. They were responsible for collecting taxes and ensuring the quality of the goods offered, and, in Yemania’s case, would need to be avoided at all costs.

  Just as the sun’s face made its appearance and bathed the plaza in fresh yellow light, Yemania ran down a row of stalls. The calls of sellers, hagglers, and animals alike drowned out the sound of her pounding feet. Metzi must have performed her daily sun ritual. She wondered briefly if Coatl had managed to make it back to her side. The empress would be hearing about her escape soon.

  She ducked behind a tent selling animal skins, gasping for breath. How was she ever going to make it to Tollan’s front gate and down to the jungles? Soldiers would be monitoring every visitor in and out of the capital. The Mother goddess hadn’t mentioned how she was supposed to find Ochix and make it to Miquitz.

  “Mother, help me . . .” she whispered to herself. A stall with dresses of every color imaginable drew her eye. She looked down at her own. Bright red. The mark of a healer. She needed to change and blend into the crowds. She stripped off her bracelets and bangles and slipped her feet out of her golden anklets. Jewelry as fine as this would more than cover some necessities, if she was quick and careful.

  The dress stall was happy to accept her red tunic dress in exchange for one of simple white. The fabric quality alone had the merchant drooling like a wolf over a fresh deer carcass. Yemania quickly changed into the inconspicuous attire and purchased a small bag, some herbs and fruits, and a small loaf of flatbread. Her heart threw itself against her ribcage any time an official strolled past, their keen eyes assessing for anything suspicious. Yemania tried to act friendly and smile with each merchant, to curb any sense of unease. Only yesterday she had dreamed of being able to distribute remedies here.

  It wasn’t until she was trading her last bracelet for a simple obsidian knife that she finally heard them. The Eagle warriors were spreading out through the market, in search of “the runaway healer.” She prayed the merchant who bought her tunic dress had a tight lip.

  “This is such a fine bracelet,” said a young man with teeth inlaid with jade, admiring the shine of the gold in the freshly risen sunlight. “Are you sure you’d like to trade it for such a simple knife?”

  “Maybe two?” she said quickly, tapping her foot against the tiled floor of the plaza. Two would come in handy if she needed to make fire again, and she didn’t want to seem too desperate to complete the trade.

  The warriors were still at the end of this row of stalls, but she needed to get moving.

  “That still seems like too good of a deal. What’s the catch? Is there something wrong with it?” The merchant narrowed his watery eyes at her.

  “No, no catch. I just need two knives.” She nervously glanced down the row of stalls as the Eagle warriors came ever closer.

  “All right, then.” The man shrugged his shoulders. “You want them wrapped up?”

  “What?” Yemania jerked her head away from the warriors and back to the merchant’s face. “No, no thank you. I’ll put them in my bag like this.”

  “Wonder what they’re looking for,” the merchant nodded his head in the direction of the warriors. “Or who.”

  Yemania busied herself with putting the knives away, face burning. “Yes, well, I’m sure they’ll find whatever it is.”

  She threw the bag over her shoulder and ordered herself to walk naturally in the opposite direction from the warriors going stall to stall. They had no reason to suspect her if she didn’t give them a reason to. Calm. Stay calm, she chanted over and over in her head. Her heart didn’t seem to be heeding the command, frantically thrashing inside her chest. She finally neared the end of the row, but as she did, another group of three Eagle warriors turned the corner.

  And she was now trapped between them.

  Chapter

  41

  Ahkin had read several codex sheets describing the council chamber of the Lord of Death, but none had prepared him to experience it for himself.

  It was a long hall, lined on either side by pillars carved with the most disturbing images. The hieroglyphs painted in blood depicted every form of death and torture imaginable, some that Ahkin had never even thought to imagine. There was no ceiling. Instead, the hall opened to the swirling clouds above and the molten peaks of the surrounding mountains.

  The center of the long hall was sunken like a pleasure pool, but it was not filled with water. Instead, it was filled with hundreds of statues. At least, Ahkin thought they were statues. As he and Mayana crept closer, the figures appeared so lifelike that he couldn’t tell if they were real or not. They depicted the twelve lords of Xibalb
a themselves, more cruel and vile than their demon servants. They appeared just as he had imagined them from the texts. They varied in appearance, from the dripping, grotesquely swollen form of Ahalpuh, Pus Master, the lord that afflicted humans with infection, to the flayed, bloody form of Cuchumaquic, Gathered Blood, who sickened people by making them cough up blood. He recognized Chamiabac, Bone Staff, and Chamiaholom, Skull Staff, the twin demon children responsible for starvation and decaying dead bodies into skeletons. They were easily identified by their staffs, which were constructed of human femurs and tipped with human skulls. Mayana seemed most terrified of Ahaltocob, Stabbing Demon, whose razor-sharp claws and teeth dripped with blood that matched the eerie red tint of his skin. His humanoid body was topped with the face of a monkey, though his limbs seemed to be on backward.

  But there were many duplicates among the hundreds of statues, sitting in thrones of various substances. From thrones made of bones or teeth to thrones made of excrement or mud.

  There was no way through the hall except through the throngs of gathered statues. The thought of passing so close to them, seeing them in their gory detail, made Ahkin wish he had been eaten by the jaguars. He didn’t want to admit to Mayana how terrified he felt, not when she seemed so close to fainting herself. He had no choice but to press on.

  At least he did not have to walk through the statues alone. He and Mayana clung to each other, neither walking in front of the other. They would face this obstacle as the Mother goddess intended them to: together.

  “Which statue is Cizin?” Mayana whispered out of the corner of her mouth.