“Deep down in your heart you’re still the little girl trying to impress her father.”
Ouch, but oh so true. Taking a deep breath, she held it for several seconds, and then released it. “Let’s go. I’m not going to leave Dad in Xibalba because I’m afraid.”
She followed the priest down the path to his ruined city. He was very much like something lost, destroyed and forgotten too. Something she’d definitely like to study. Maybe if she stared at the way he filled out his jeans, then she’d forget all about having a panic attack, although it’d certainly do nothing for her blood pressure. She’d never seen a man so well put together. “Did you really live here before it was destroyed?”
“Yes. Once this was a great and powerful city.”
“Before the K’iche and Kaqchikels came and you lost power.”
Arching an eyebrow, he gave a flat stare that surprised her. “I know not of what you speak.”
“You don’t know the two tribes? I thought—”
“I certainly know of these tribes, but we did not lose our power to them.”
“According to The Annals of Kaqchikels, when the other two tribes arrived, the Tz’utijils ceded the lands north of Lake Atitlan to them because they dazzled you with their magic.”
The look on his face was priceless. “You must show me these Annals, for I’ve never heard such a thing. The two tribes came and tried to conquer us, yes. My brother was a young king, newly married. I was his priest, and it’s no boastful arrogance when I say that no other priest in the land was as powerful.”
“Your brother was married to the woman he loved so much?”
“No.” Ruin sighed heavily. “That is part of a story I’d rather not explain at this time. The strangers arrived and wanted us to pay tribute. The southern side of Lake Atitlan was ours, definitely. The three volcanoes were sacred to us, a physical representation of the celestial hearthstones. When the others arrived, we demonstrated our magic and they were afraid. They left us alone on the south and took the north.”
She knew what the book said, but if he was telling the truth, it’d be interesting to see if they agreed. She could picture him standing over the waters of the lake in his full ceremonial dress, the hard planes of his face shining with power. The image gave her goose bumps. “What magic did you perform?”
“To protect my people and assure our power, I used the Gate and demonstrated our magic. I entered the waters and passed through the portal. Great Feathered Serpent appeared in my place. Filled with awe, the encroachers left us alone and were afraid to trespass on our side of the lake.”
“The Annals say that their king transformed into the Great Feathered Serpent.”
He made a rude noise. “They had no such magic. I assume they wrote this book, yes? Of course they changed history to assure their own power and pride among their tribe.”
Maybe it was naively stupid of her, but she’d never thought about it quite like that before. History was always interpreted differently depending on which side or country the author claimed. It was human nature. She’d always taken the Annals as absolute fact, but it was only correct as far as the K’iche were concerned, and the image they wanted to project to their descendants.
She thought about all the translations she or other epigraphers had completed over the years: the Dresden Codex; the Chilam B’alam; countless stelae and panels in the great cities of Tikal and Chich’en Itza. How correct and unbiased could those “histories” really be?
She stumbled to a halt. Crumbling stone surrounded her. For a moment, her heart pounded so hard that her vision darkened. The skin of her face felt too tight. Hot and cold chills raced up and down her arms.
After the initial rush of panic, she slowly brought her breathing under control. Nothing happened. Ruin had grown up here and performed feats she couldn’t even comprehend. The man could hide in plain sight, turn into a jaguar, and probably rip a still-beating heart out of his sacrifice’s chest. Surely, he could protect himself.
The worst thing that’s going to happen is I pass out and embarrass myself.
She opened her eyes. He stood before her, sliding his palms up and down her arms soothingly while he whispered softly in his language. Staring at his chest just inches away, she found her gaze wandering across the wide muscle to his biceps. Tattoos tracked across the swell of muscle, disappearing beneath the short sleeves only to crawl up his neck toward his face. She tried to picture him with jade or bone piercings, but she couldn’t manage to get past the solid strength and proud confidence projected by the sharp planes of his face.
He towered over her. As Ruin, he could walk as a jaguar. He’d sworn to show her how the Gates worked, the magic that was his birthright. Yet he touched her as gently as he would a newborn baby.
She’d never been into big, beefy sort of men. He projected brutal strength and arrogance, yes, but she found this softer side of him intriguing. Combined with his magic and his knowledge of the real Maya, it was a heady and dangerous combination.
He smelled…threatening, wild like the jaguar prowling inside his body. He was a warrior who’d fought with his bare hands and killed, ruthlessly and efficiently, who had died and gotten up to fight again. And again.
“I’m okay.” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, husky and breathless. He must have agreed, because he didn’t cease his soothing caress. The sensation of his calloused palms sliding across her skin made her throat tighten even more. What would such a wild, powerful man be like in bed?
She stepped away. Suddenly, a panic attack wasn’t as dangerous or frightening as her libido running amok.
Forcing images of dusky naked skin and muscle from her mind, she concentrated on the pyramids rising in the center of the plaza. There were three, positioned to mimic the volcanoes. She would have been shocked if they didn’t. The Maya were known for the astrological and positional significance of their structures. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if this whole city had been angled to provide the perfect viewing of both the lake and the sky.
Volcanic rubble still clogged the main plaza. Her father’s team had been working for the last year simply to clear the main area of debris. They’d decided that an earthquake must have occurred first, burying the city in rocks; then the eruption had occurred, casting a layer of molten lava and ash on top. If the lava had come first, they likely would have lost the city forever. The rocks of the pyramids would have melted and fused together into a new, real mountain that was no longer man-made.
One question had always troubled her. Anyone who’d seen images of Pompeii and the mother’s bones curled protectively over her child’s would wonder at the absence of bodies. “Where did everyone go before the eruption? Did you have warning?”
Silence was her answer. She turned to face Ruin. His face hardened stone by stone, the weight of this city and his duty crushing his soul. “I knew what would happen when I broke my oath, so I sent my people away. Some left to live with other tribes. Others chose to use the portal. I sent them ahead to Kukulkan, Great Feathered Serpent, before the appointed time, but he accepted them. Instead of following, I changed the settings and went after my brother.”
“Wrack was…dead?”
“His enemies betrayed him, and Butterfly Star was dead.” Ruin swallowed hard, the column of his throat corded with tension. “He thought he would join her beneath the shade of the Great Ceiba. When I crossed the Gate in search of him, he was running through the levels of Xibalba, calling her name, chased by demons and shades. He’d denied his own place beneath the World Tree in order to save her.”
“He loved her.”
He made a low, ragged sound. “You don’t understand, do you? She wasn’t waiting beneath the Ceiba Tree. She still travailed in Xibalba. If she’d died honestly and bravely, she would have passed directly to First Five Sky.”
Her heart ached for this man who’d suffered so much guilt, as well as his brother who’d been willing to do anything for love. “Even though she betrayed him, h
e still went after her, and you went after him. How can that be wrong?”
Ruin flinched, the turmoil of that day swelling within him once more. Perhaps his story would help her see the error in opening the Gate to save her father.
“Butterfly Star’s father, the king of the K’iche, promised her to a Kaqchikel prince to further cement their alliance against us. With her help, they laid a trap for Wrack, and she died in the fight. He begged me to send him through to Xibalba so he could help her through the Place of Fright, so I opened the Gate for him. Before he could find her, the Lords of Death captured and sacrificed him. As his twin, I felt his death. Of course, I went after him.”
“If he was already dead, what did you hope to gain?”
“Death is only the beginning of a new journey. I fetched him back to this journey. I had the power. I had the knowledge. But I did not know that he would be changed so much by the betrayal. I thought he would welcome my rescue. Instead…”
His chest was tight, his breath short and loud. It had taken his greatest magic to blow a spark of life back into his brother’s body. Returning through the Gate had been his first death. He’d awoken on the lakeshore stiff, sore, and thirsty for revenge, but once revived, his brother had waded back into the lake calling his woman’s name. When he’d found no portal back to Xibalba, he’d turned on his brother. He’d sworn to never rest until Ruin had paid the price of her death a thousand times over.
He forced his voice to ring with vehemence. “I allowed my heart to interfere with my duty. It will not happen again.”
Jaid stared at him solemnly. He feared she would attempt to comfort him, but she finally turned aside to explore the city.
At first, he simply watched her. Her steps were hesitant, her eyes large, her face damp with sweat. Yet she pushed onward, refusing to let her fear dictate her. As the sun climbed in the sky and moved in its downward swing toward the lake in the west, her manner eased. The stiffness in her shoulders disappeared and her eyes glittered with excitement.
“The colors are still bright and beautiful. I’ve never seen panels so well preserved.”
He ran his hand over the stone. “The layers of rock protected it from damp and exposure.”
“Does it bother you to walk through the plaza and remember what it was once like to live here? I can’t imagine how that must feel.”
He shrugged. “For the most part, it feels like a dream of a dream, only a vague memory. I’m not the same priest who stood at the top of the temple each morning to bid the sun good day, and each night, safe journey through Xibalba.”
“I’m ready to see your temple.” Her voice was quiet, but the fear had left her.
She’d faced her fear and overcome it. No small feat. Her courage only served to draw him closer. The man he’d once been yearned to pull her into his arms and feel her courageous heart beat against his while he whispered praise and sweet words in her ear. Words he’d never allowed himself to say to any woman.
His magic swirled inside him, a painful swipe of claws that reminded him of his purpose.
He led the way to the Pyramid of Dawn, mirroring Volcano San Pedro. Twin pyramids across the plaza represented the other two stones of the three-stoned hearth and completed the triad. She started to climb the stairs to the top but paused when he didn’t join her. Instead, he entered an unimposing structure which sat at the base of the mighty pyramid.
Inside, the walls were painted with the story of creation, very similar to the story the K’iche had recorded in the Popol Vuh, only with his people’s interpretation and memories. Patiently, he waited while she looked about the room.
Her mouth moved slightly, her brow furrowed as she translated the glyphs on the walls. “These are easy and straightforward glyphs, fairly typical of most ruins. This isn’t what my father found.”
His mouth quirked. “Do you think my most sacred knowledge would be so readily available?”
He stepped over to the inner wall where a large map of the region had been engraved into the stone. He touched the three carved volcanoes in quick sequence, and the rock cracked.
“A secret door,” she breathed, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Now I’m really starting to feel like Indiana Jones.”
“Did you bring a light? The tunnel’s dark.” She shook her head, so Ruin held his hand out. “I know the way. Take my hand and I’ll lead you through.”
“We’re going…” She paled and her eyes dilated. Agitated, she gripped the leather bag, her fingers aimlessly playing with the strap and the catch. “I don’t think I can do that. Not in the dark, with all those heavy rocks pressing down on my head.”
She shuddered and took an involuntary step backward.
“Shhh.” He stepped closer and took her hand. “It’s only a few feet and then we’ll be in the open chamber beneath the pyramid. It was made with a hole at the top to allow the sun to come through, and the last time I was inside, your father had left supplies inside to light the chamber. Trust me. This tunnel has been safe and sound for hundreds of years. It survived an earthquake and the eruption of the nearest volcano. Nothing’s going to make it collapse today.”
Swallowing, she took his hand, her fingers squeezing hard. With halting steps, she followed him. Her panting breath echoed in the small room, worsening at the door to the tunnel. “Distract me. Please. I want to see your temple, but I’m afraid.”
She stepped closer to him, her face pale. Her free hand settled on his other arm. Heat from her palm seeped into him, surprising him with a sudden uncurling of desire. Her scent filled his nose, laden with the pheromones of burgeoning attraction.
Very slowly, she laid her cheek against his chest. The feel of her against him stirred longings he’d believed dead a very long time ago. She was so small against him, courageous and afraid, brilliant and yet so curiously naïve, arrogant in her ignorance. The complex twisting tightened his stomach. He could not afford any sentiments for this woman. He had one goal only: protect the Gate. She knew too much.
Truthfully, he should have already killed her.
The wary priest in him insisted this softness was merely a ploy to gain his trust and admiration. A betrayal. But he didn’t believe such fearful courage could be pretended. In this time, in her country, such weakness would not be readily displayed.
Without letting himself think too much, he picked her up and strode into the tunnel. She burrowed deeper into his arms, hiding her face against him. Her arms came up around his neck, her fingers gliding through his hair, torture and heaven at once. All too soon—and not soon enough—he reached the inner temple.
Reluctantly, he set her back on her feet. Her hands remained on his shoulders and she turned her face up to his. Her dark eyes gleamed, her lips soft with emotion that he didn’t dare consider. Would her mouth taste as rich and decadent as promised by her cacao eyes and hair?
He turned away, ruthlessly crushing that softness threatening his duty once more.
Her father had set up large lamps and a generator in the corner. He flipped the machine on, glad to have some activity to occupy his hands before he did the unthinkable.
Light bloomed, and she gasped. “Oh, Ruin, I had no idea. It’s so beautiful!” She rushed to the wall and stroked her fingers over the pictures and carvings. “Yes, these are familiar, yet so strange and complex. Did you write them?”
“As I wrote the codex.”
She glanced back at him. The warm glow of admiration in her eyes burned him. The women of his time had never been able to look at him without fear, yet this modern woman—who shouldn’t have believed a single word of his explanations—looked upon him with enough heat to crack the ancient foundations of his temple. “How can you bear to destroy it?”
“Originally I made thirteen copies.” He sighed. For all his determination to be as immovable as stone, he’d found it impossible to wipe all evidence of his sacred knowledge from this earth. “Only one remains.”
“Thirteen, one for each level of heaven?”
“Yes.” He watched her move around the room, waiting for her to notice the floor. “I gave a copy to each of the great cities of the age.”
“What did they use them for? If it was forbidden to use them, why make copies and give them to the other cities?”
“The magic itself wasn’t forbidden, merely its misuse. I often used the portal to communicate with our allies and even our enemies. It also enabled us to contact our ancestors and the gods, if the appropriate sacrifice was offered. When Great Feathered Serpent blessed me with this knowledge, I swore to never use the Gate for personal gain, yet I misused the Gate to bring my brother back to life.”
“I thought you used obsidian mirrors and various herbals to induce visions…” His words must have finally dawned on her, for she whirled, eyes wide and sparkling with interest. “You communicated directly with the other cities through the portal?”
He nodded. “We could travel from city to city without ever stepping from this room. The high priests often communicated in secret to unify ourselves before warfare. We still warred, yes, but the Gates gave us the chance to arrange treaties in privacy.”
“How?” She whispered. “How did you do it?”
“I’ll show you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Look at the floor,” Ruin said.
Jaid dropped her gaze to the tiles. Her eyes couldn’t make sense of the colorful mosaic. The swirling pattern of spirals and glyphs, carvings and lines made her so dizzy that her vision blurred. The room swam.
“This is the first level of protection. We deliberately designed the pattern to make you uncomfortable, so your eyes will seek out something solid, anything but the fluid, blurring floor.”
A headache already threatened between her eyes, so she closed them.
“Step toward my voice,” he whispered.
It only took three steps to reach him. He settled his palm in the small of her back and turned her around, adjusting her until she stood in a certain spot.
The Bloodgate Guardian Page 10