Hunger and exhaustion drove him to take a breather in a gulch and he spotted the curious long yellow fruit that grew there. He availed himself of several and drank water that had pooled upon a mossy stone. Then he was moving again, circling around to where he suspected the others would land their stolen boats.
Following a narrow game trail through the lush greenery, he stumbled into the middle of a tiny village. The folk there stopped the simple chores they were doing to stare at him and scream.
He waved to them and ran on. They threw garbage and stones after him, but he was already gone. That was a mistake, they would alert his pursuers. He had to find another direction to lead off the hunters. This was a strange land.
Beauty and Terror
A flock of brilliant colored birds called warning from their nests among the lower hanging branches of the jungle and took flight as Gathelaus burst through the underbrush. He grit his teeth, the raucous birds as sure a sign of his passing as any track upon the ground. The men in pursuit called to one another as he rushed on, cat-like, over a fallen moss-covered log that spanned a narrow defile. He could not help leaving a trail across the slick, rotted bridge. Once on the other side, he heaved and strained with all his corded might until the log fell into the gorge. It wouldn’t stop his pursuers, but it would slow them down.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and made ready to race on when he was startled by a strange old woman standing before him.
“I was wondering when you would get here,” she said.
He was sure no one had been there when he crossed over the log and he had only turned his back to the glade for a moment to push the log over. He had a hard time believing anyone could have been so swift to move that quickly and silently upon him. He suspected there must be something supernatural about the old woman.
Her dusky, ancient skin resembled cracked parchment over her gaunt face. She had a cheery smile, however, and bright eyes full of mischief. She wore a traditional looking tunic with simple beadwork, much the same as any number he had seen women wearing on the streets of Chalco.
“Who are you?”
“My name is of no consequence, but I am here to help you,” she said.
“Do you have an army of grandsons?”
“I might, but for now there is only me.”
“All right then, Grandmother.” He put his thumbs in his belt. “What do you advise?”
She smiled at that. “You’re patronizing me, but that’s all right. For a proud man you have been humbled enough lately, I should think. The ocean crossing was not kind to you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You know how I came?”
“Of course, I do. I sent for you.”
The queer manner of her appearance and the statement made him wish to reach for a weapon, but he held back and asked instead, “Oh? Why, Grandmother?”
“Because you are the man to slay the Nine and banish them from my lands,” she said very matter-of-factly.
“Are you a queen?”
She snorted, turned, and hobbled toward the tree line. “No, I am not.” Without asking him to follow or saying anything more she moved into the trees. Gathelaus felt compelled to follow.
“You said you sent for me. How?”
“I was able to cast a spell and break a hole in the great barrier and bring the ship that bore you through to the other side. Such has not happened for a hundred years and those men that were of noble heart, were defeated by Xolotl.”
Gathelaus wondered at her tale but before he could ask, she answered his next few questions.
“You slew Xolotl and banished his daimon back into the ether from whence it sprang.”
“He is not dead?”
She smacked him across the arm, “I just told you he is dead, you did the impossible and slew him. He will not return to this realm for at least a thousand years, perhaps longer. You greatly pained him and then collapsed the temple atop his body and sealed the door shut. I knew I picked the right man.”
Gathelaus was dubious of any thought to fate, but then she had only said she picked him, hadn’t she? He could have failed in the endeavor just like the men from a hundred years earlier.
She beckoned for him to follow along a path that was surprisingly clear through a thick patch of jungle. “And then you destroyed the four gods of the earth that skulked in the mountains of fire. I’m very proud of you for that.”
and the short woman strode unerringly beneath the hanging vines that Gathelaus had to duck for. “Then you fought off their best warriors and slew one of the last Quinamatzin, the Amon-Gahela.”
“Was that one of the Nine too?”
“No, of course not. They feared him, but they did not worship that poor misshapen creature. He was very slow of wit and was over three hundred years old.”
Gathelaus wasn’t sure he should be so proud of himself at having slain the crippled old giant now.
“But you did slay the plumed serpent, Coatlique, and then in the temple of midnight you found a way to hurt the Mizquitli too, the vile thing. And destroyed his doorway into our world.”
“The Mizquitli? The black things out of the mirror? That was one being?”
“Of course. You only saw his hair, though.”
Gathelaus pondered that unearthly horror and shuddered. In the heat of the moment he had let his instincts take over and had not given himself a chance to feel fear, but in hindsight it was a terrifying experience.
“That is why I am so pleased with you. You have broken their hold and every moment their dark influence is beat back and the golden way of light and dark is renewed. Balance can come again.”
“Do you mean good?”
She snorted at that. “Life needs balance, not simply good or simply evil. The Nine are what you would term evil, for they care nothing for human life and demanded death, pain, and suffering. Fear is their sustenance. I seek only for balance. Which is why I needed a slayer such as you, not a haughty priest or benevolent monk. I needed a man to do what he was created for.”
“Is there not a man from these own lands?”
“The power of the Nine has made all born in these lands ingrained with a fear to change. I needed a foreign born man to stand here against those dark forces.”
“Then I can return to my own lands?”
“Not yet, there are two left—and they are the strongest.”
Gathelaus thought of the thing known as Mizquitli. She had said he only saw the thing’s hair and he had only defeated that by the blessing of fire sent directly into the heart of darkness.
“So tell me, Grandmother, who is left and how I may slay them.”
She slapped him across the chest again. “That’s why I like you Gathelaus, so eager to please, even if it is only to appease your own violent nature.” She walked on through an especially thick clump of shrubbery.
He followed and came out upon a shoreline bordering a long finger of the great lake. But it was the tall, multi-stepped pyramid that caught his attention. It was of a dark grey stone and covered with thick mosses and ferns. It was half eaten by the jungle. A stark difference between this and the pyramids within the cities.
“This one is the abode of Tlaloc, god of waters. He also has a gateway here that he and the other members of the Nine can pass through.”
“You want me to kill a god and destroy his gate?”
“Of course. I knew you’d understand. You’re such a bright boy,” she cackled.
The pyramid’s peak stood above the treetops in similitude of the sacred mountains of power. The jungle had encroached right up to the edge of the stacked stones and on the far side, the lake washed upon the stepped stones and the steps led down into the water further than Gathelaus could even perceive.
“The entrance is below the water level,” said the old woman. “About there. You must dive in and face him inside his great batrachian hall.”
Gathelaus grunted. “That’s the only way in?”
“Yes.” The old woman motioned with a sw
imming motion that Gathelaus must dive into the lake then come up the hidden entrance.
“And destroying these gates is the only way to break these spells, and banish these gods, and then I’ll be allowed to return to my own lands?” grumbled Gathelaus once again.
The old woman nodded. “If I did not enlist men such as you to do this, there would come a day when the Nine would extend their influence and take hold of the whole world in their diabolic grasp.”
“Why haven’t the people here ever done it and thrown off the yoke that binds them?”
The old woman shrugged. “You know people, they prefer the safety of slavery to the terror of freedom. It is human nature for most. That is why I needed a barbarian from the north who will bend the knee to no man or god.”
“So you said.” He knew she was flattering him, but he liked it.
Gazing at the water, he was struck by the strangeness of his predicament. He didn’t even have what he considered a good weapon. The water was a deep blue, and nothing could be seen within a foot or two down. Gathelaus secured his knife to his belt and took a step into the water.
“Do you have any advice on a weakness? Some way I can maim him?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not sure of any weaknesses. He is very powerful.”
Gathelaus frowned. “Surely I need something more than this bit of steel to slay him. What am I facing in there?”
“He is in the form of a man, but not a man. Tall and strong, green and scaled like a demon of the sea. He will surely have a weakness for the bane of water creatures.”
“He is in a pyramid, half sunken in a lake.”
“He is protecting himself, I suppose,” she said, with a shrug. “Take this, then.” She put a necklace over his shoulders. The pendant appeared to be a small piece of a fallen star. It was dark copper and pitted with multiple holes. “It is an emblem of the earths above. It is in radical opposition to his realm.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Beware the ahuizotls,” said the old woman. “They are Tlaloc’s guardians while he sleeps.”
“What the devil are those?”
“They would look like spiky dogs or giant otters to you, they have a very long tail and can grab you to try and drown you if they can. They are quite malevolent.”
Gathelaus frowned. “What is their weakness?”
The old woman shrugged once again—the same as she did with every answer she gave. “They especially like to sup upon human eyes, nails, and teeth.”
“How does that help me fight them?”
“It doesn’t. I’m just letting you know what they like.”
“How do I kill them?” he huffed.
“The same way as anything else I suppose. But they will likely be in a pack. If you see one, another two are nearby waiting to ambush you.”
“That’s a big help.”
“Heh, you didn’t know about them at all until I told you,” she said with a cackle.
He gave her the side eye then slunk into the lake. Sunlight danced across the surface above but the water below was incredibly dark. He knew crocodiles and other carnivorous things dwelt in these lands, but he had no way of seeing if they lay in wait for him. He could hardly see his hand in front of his face, though the shimmering ceiling above was a vibrant blue. He followed the pyramidal steps down by feel and was at about half of his expected breath when he came across what he guessed must be a corbelled arch denoting the entrance. Swimming down he kicked his feet in and there was no obstruction.
Breaking the surface, he took a lungful of air and said, “Grandmother, I think I found it.” She was nowhere in sight. He spun in the water but saw no sign of the old woman. Whispering a curse, he took another deep breath and let himself back down into the mouth of the sunken vault. He felt along the slime coated walls and entered the black abyss of an entrance. He was wary of the things she had spoken of, but there was no way to see them now. He heard nothing moving through the waters and decided that was as good a sign as he could expect.
About thirty feet through the dark he perceived a dim light ahead. He kicked toward it but rose up slowly so as not to disturb the surface.
It looked like the bulk of the pyramid was a vast open amphitheater, though there were some fallen stones and beams blocking his view of the entirety of the gallery. Shards of sunlight crisscrossed here and there from great rents in the ceiling above. Everything appeared to be at a slant, as if the whole of the structure had sunk unevenly. The water looked jade green here and but for the rays of sunlight causing the serpentine glimmer of light reflected on the walls there, was no movement nor sound.
He slowly stalked from the waters. Fallen timbers and unwholesome vines stretched across the gallery. A fetid stink of decay hung heavy in the air. When he glanced down at his own bare chest he saw a half-dozen leeches feasting. He drew his knife and cut them loose.
A massive, intricately carved statue blocked his view of the rest of the gallery. Made of grey and greenish marble, it was of a man-like thing seated on a throne in ominous repose. It looked half fish and half man to Gathelaus’s eyes. Its lips were big and flabby while the finely carved hands had distinct webbing between the taloned fingers. A ridge of overlapping scales covered its body more than the royal and decadent vestments of a king did. The muscular fish-man, if alive, would have stood perhaps ten feet tall. Gathelaus hoped it was an exaggeration of the fish god he expected to face.
The crying of an infant broke the silence. Wheeling about, he wondered how a child could be inside the terrible ruin. The sound of a crying child then carried from another direction—across from him in the gloomy gallery. Then, in front of him again.
“Enough of your tricks, demon. Face me.”
Black, furtive shapes chirped together then moved about him, swiftly sliding into the water nary causing a ripple at all.
He drew his knife and turned about, ready for anything from any direction. Any direction except that which they attacked from.
A long hand burst from the murky water and grasped him about the wrist holding the knife, then another on the other side took his other wrist while a third got him about the neck. All tugged together and pulled him into the water.
Gathelaus thrashed against their hold but each creature swam hard and fast in opposite directions, keeping him suspended just below the surface. He thrashed about, unable to fight and unable to breathe.
Raging, Gathelaus fought against being strangled underwater and finally got his feet under himself enough to rise up from the water and catch a breath before they bore him down again.
They looked like giant weasels, with fur that jutted out in spikes. The tails were long and dexterous enough to be considered a third hand.
Gathelaus got to his feet once again and this time, despite the strain on his bull like neck, he launched himself backward with the intent to land directly atop the one that was strangling him. The weight of his body slammed it against the hard flagstones beneath the slimy pool. Crushed and broken, the ahuizotl let go of his throat. Now with just one of the beasts attacking him on each arm, he swung hard to lunge at one and bit the tail that held his right arm. His teeth crunched down on slick, oily fur and foul blood gushed into his mouth. But death would have tasted far more bitter.
The ahuizotl screeched and let go. The tables turned Gathelaus grasped the creature’s bleeding tail and whipped the beast about, slamming it into its companion. While they were yet dazed, he leapt with his knife and finished them in a frenzy.
He breathed hard, his lungs and neck aching. Staring about the dilapidated hall, he couldn’t imagine how Tlaloc could not have heard that ruckus. But there was no sound but the dying rasps of breath from the ahuizotl.
Gathelaus trudged from the lagoon toward the gigantic statue. The incredible workmanship of the carving rivaled any artist anywhere in the world he had ever been. He could see the individual grooves in each scale of the fish man.
“Oh no,” he said.
The bulbous eyes upon the stone-like mask of Tlaloc blinked open. There was no iris as man or animal might have. These were a solid black like a night with no stars, and as cold as the emptiness between them too. The thing grunted, and the guttural sound echoed within the chamber like a beaten gong. It stood from its throne and flexed.
Gathelaus launched himself at its feet, stabbing his blade at its flesh. The knife glanced off the thick greenish scales.
Dodging back from an expected return blow, Gathelaus stared, surprised that the monstrous being merely stretched its arms above its head as if still waking from a magnificent slumber. And perhaps it was. He would have to strike a vulnerable spot, like an eye, to produce a wound on the incredible thing. But as it stood perhaps closer to twelve feet tall, that would be a difficult maneuver. He had to either gain higher ground or make it lower its guard. He quickly scanned the tumbled mess of the ruinous pyramid, searching for a safe place to ascend
Ready to begin, Gathelaus said, “Want to dance?” He cast a stone at the behemoth’s head.
It hit Tlaloc square in the forehead and the monstrous being seemed hardly to noticed. It swept its imperious gaze across the room until it centered upon Gathelaus, then it slowly lowered its bulk, like a man speaking to a small child. It blinked once at Gathelaus.
Gathelaus pondered how an insect must feel beside a man.
Tlaloc continued to look at him in silence, then huffed once and blasted the loudest cry a being had ever shouted at Gathelaus. He flew back, arms flailing, into the murky waters.
Tlaloc moved with incredible speed, snatching Gathelaus up in a massive webbed hand. He held Gathelaus upside down and scrutinized him. Its eyes were the size of saucers and held an alien intelligence that likely dreamed of sunken blue cities and crushing pressures.
Gathelaus stared into the face of the monster, utterly unable to free himself from its titanic grasp. “Well, demon. Do your worst!” he shouted in defiance.
Tlaloc cocked his head and opened his mouth wider and larger than seemed possible. The black cavern of a mouth was perhaps five feet wide by another three feet across.
FIERCE: A Heroic Fantasy Adventure (BRUTAL TRILOGY Book 2) Page 23