Beautiful Salvation

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Aiyana caught herself leaning into his touch, soothed by it and his words in some strange and wholly foreign way. She wanted to fold herself into his arms, wanted to bask in the peace of being with someone who knew what she was and wasn’t afraid, someone who saw her darkness as a strength. His words touched a need inside her, a need to be a good queen, a protector of her people instead of the danger her mother believed so strongly that she was.

  “I have waited a long time to meet you.”

  His voice was gentle, soothing, the caress of a rose petal against her skin. He leaned down and Aiyana’s pulse pounded in her ears. He was going to kiss her. A fine trembling seized her body and she stumbled back.

  “I have to go.” Her words came out muffled, hindered by the confusion he’d managed to inspire in her, the tangle he’d made of her thoughts. Her head spun and she wavered as she stepped back, trying to put distance between her and the man causing so much conflict inside her.

  “Go where?” Saamal grabbed her arm, keeping her next to him. “Why are you out here, Aiyana? Why are you not in your palace, safe and sound?”

  “Safe and sound,” Aiyana spat. Her nostrils flared and she clenched her hands into fists. She tore her arm free from Saamal’s grip. “I hate those words. They mean nothing but trapped, imprisoned. Despite all your pretty words, I know my people are afraid of me and I know those guards that hover around me every second are as much to protect my people from me as they are to protect me from any imaginary threat.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, biting off the last word before she could spew anymore personal information. Saamal was a stranger. He shared her curse, but that did not make him a friend, didn’t make him a reliable confidante. Unease rolled through her stomach. As a matter of fact, he was the opposite of reliable. He had welcomed what was done to him, wanted it. She shook her head, backing away. “I have to go.”

  “Aiyana, you are not a threat.”

  Saamal tried to catch her arm again and she bared her teeth at him, raising one clawed hand in warning.

  “I dream of spilling my people’s blood, sacrificing them to the earth in the name of prosperity,” she seethed. “I have dreams of leaping upon unsuspecting youths, challenging them to fight, to prove their strength. I dream of killing them, brushing off their death as proof that they were not strong enough to be worthy of this kingdom.” Tears burned her eyes and she jutted her chin out at Saamal in challenge. “Do you think that’s not evil? That it doesn’t make me a threat to my people? Because if you can look me in the eye and still claim I will make a great queen, then you are just as great a threat as I am.”

  “Darkness is every bit as necessary as light.” A muscle in Saamal’s jaw twitched.

  He paused and focused on the trees around them as if gathering his thoughts. His arms hung limply at his sides and he ducked his head and closed his eyes a moment. When he met her eyes again, Aiyana’s lips parted and the tension bled from her shoulders. There was sorrow in the set of his shoulders, deep lines in his face that looked like…shame?

  “The urges inside you are not so macabre as they may seem.” He met her eyes again, his voice calm, clear. “I can help you understand.”

  “I don’t want to understand, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to try and make me give in to the urge to hurt people.” She whirled around and stalked through the woods, heading in the direction of the lake where Okomi had told her the fairy could be found, more determined than ever to get rid of her curse. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she tossed back over her shoulder. “If all goes as planned, I won’t be this way for much longer.”

  Suddenly Saamal was standing in front of her, his feline eyes glowing in the darkness, the air around him vibrating with restrained energy. “What do you mean?”

  Aiyana tilted her chin up. “I’m going to see the fairy that lives near the lake. I plan to ask her to banish this darkness from me, prune away the rot so that whatever…power, I have can be allowed to grow in a more positive, less gruesome way.” Okomi’s words tasted strange on her tongue, and she shifted uncomfortably at the way Saamal’s face paled.

  He leaned back and for a moment he looked like he might be sick. “You are going to a fairy to have her…exorcise this power from you?”

  “Yes.”

  The jaguar-man raised a clawed hand to his head, pressing his palm against his temple as if he had a headache. “But what if removing this power from you causes you harm? What if this power is so much a part of you that without it…you would die?”

  His voice was low, calm, but there was a trembling undertone that spoke of the effort it took to make it that way. Aiyana got the distinct impression he was trying not to shout, resisting the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

  “Then I’ll die.” Aiyana straightened her spine, steeling her resolve against the strange pain in Saamal’s eyes. “I will not be a threat to my people.”

  “If the Lord of Near and Nigh gave you this power, then he obviously meant for you to keep it. He must mean for you to use it to benefit your people, perhaps you simply don’t yet understand how?”

  Aiyana hardened her jaw. “I had no say in what was done to me. I was never asked if I wanted this power, never consulted about whether I wanted to be the one to bear the responsibility of these urges, this bloodlust. The Black God cares for power, not for people.” She hesitated, then forced out the next words in a rush. “The urge the power inspires in me to sacrifice my own people proves that. How could a god who cared for his people want them to die like that? Hearts ripped out and thrown into pits, flesh torn and—” She pressed her lips together, unable to say anymore.

  Saamal flinched as though she’d punched him. He opened his mouth twice before he spoke. “Surely you know why the sacrifice is needed?”

  Aiyana averted her eyes, examining the trees, the ground, anything to distract herself from remembered dreams. She knew that they were memories given to her when the Black God put his power inside her, knew that they weren’t merely images, but men who had truly been killed in the years before she was born, before her family had seen the error of their ways and turned to worshipping the White God. “Yes. My people used to believe the land had to be fed, to be revitalized. They thought it needed blood.”

  Her stomach rolled. For a second she could swear she felt the earth trembling, a surge of hunger screaming from the land. The forest disappeared around her, and suddenly she was back in her dream. She could see herself, standing larger than life over a barren field, one of her subjects clutched in her grip. She squeezed the squirming form, claws sliding like swords into the struggling body until blood rushed in a warm flood over her hand, pouring to the earth in a waterfall of too much blood to have come from one body. The blood poured and poured, rushing like a river over the land. The land drank it down greedily, brown grass coming alive, flooding over the land in an emerald blanket. Dried up river beds swelling with water, trees blossoming with leaves where moments ago there had only been bare, brittle twigs. So much blood…

  “Earth does not need blood to be fertile,” she gasped, talking to herself as much as to Saamal. “People, lives, should not be sacrificed for food.”

  “Perhaps not in Sanguenay, Nysa, Meropis, or even Dacia, but here in Mu, it is very necessary.” Saamal widened his stance, his arms straight down at his sides as he faced her.

  “Why?” Aiyana demanded, her heart beating so loudly she could barely hear her own voice. “Why must we be so barbaric, so bloodthirsty?”

  “It is not the people who are bloodthirsty, but the land. Have you never heard the story of how Mu was formed?” A thread of warm anger had woven through Saamal’s voice and he stretched himself to his full six feet to stare down at her from his superior height.

  Aiyana opened her mouth, then closed it. She searched her memory, but for some reason, none of the stories that came to her offered a response. “No.”

  “In the beginning, there was only the sea, and the great croco
dilian sea monster Cipactli. She was a ravenous beast with thick brown scales and a gaping mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth at every joint. The Black God and the White God sought to create a world where people could live and thrive, but every time they created something, it would fall down into the sea and Cipactli would consume it. Cipactli knew only how to destroy, and she kept the gods from creating the life they meant for their people. So the Black God and the White God joined forces. Together they defeated Cipactli and distorted her body. It was from her flesh that the world, the Kingdom of Mu, was created.”

  “Our kingdom is standing on a dead crocodile?” Aiyana let her doubt show in her voice as she blinked disbelievingly at Saamal.

  “Not dead. Cipactli was an immortal monster. She lives, as the land. After the gods defeated her and created the human race, Cipactli realized that she had the potential to serve life instead of end it, and she became content to be the land upon which her people thrived. However, her hunger did not vanish completely. She is still alive, and she still craves the nourishment she once sought as the sea monster she was born as.”

  Memories of a deep, inhuman voice whispering through her mind came floating back to Aiyana. “I’m hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.” Cipactli? Had that voice been the sea monster—the land? Aiyana swayed on her feet. She wanted to sit, to curl up into a ball and think of the macabre history of her people, but she didn’t. A royal did not have the luxury of wallowing in horror. The kingdom must endure. She closed her eyes and evened out her breathing, focusing on slowing her rapid heartbeat. She thought back on what history she did know of her people, the few stories she’d heard of the sacrifices and her own experience with the grisly custom through her nightmares. “You’re telling me that once a year one of my subjects must be sacrificed…to feed the giant crocodile whose body makes up the land of my kingdom?” The words sounded ridiculous, but they resonated deep inside her, ringing with an awful truth. She opened her eyes to find Saamal watching her, sympathy in his eyes.

  “Cipactli gave her body to her people.” He tilted his head. “Is one life so much to pay for her sacrifice?”

  Putting a hand to her rolling stomach, Aiyana tried to hold back the scream she wanted to unleash on him, breathing through the hysteria until she could speak with a calm, clear voice. “To you? No. To me? Maybe not. But to that one subject that is chosen, that one life is everything. Cipactli lives. The sacrifice does not. Who is to say one life of…servitude, deserves one life in its entirety?”

  Aiyana pressed her finger to her temples, a pit of cold opening up inside her. The man before her was handsome, even cloaked as he was in the features of a jaguar. There was an aura about him that spoke of confidence and power, and she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt tugging at her insides when she looked at him. Part of her wanted to agree with him, wanted to give in to the connection she sensed, the easy peace of not having to fight against the power inside her anymore. An hour ago she never would have dreamed of finding a man who knew what she was and wanted her anyway, and there was an allure to the idea that tempted her.

  But his easy acceptance of death, his nonchalance about the ending of a life as some sort of twisted tribute… It disgusted her. It didn’t matter if he accepted the darkness within her, was comfortable with it—she wasn’t. And as long as she had hope of becoming something better, of getting a better life for her people, she would continue to fight.

  She squared her shoulders, more determined than ever to seek out the fairy. “If what you say is true, and the Black God himself has granted me some of his powers, then obviously he means for me to be an instrument of death, the weapon that will spill blood, end life, to feed this…Cipactli.” She squared her shoulders. “I…have heard the land. I know that part of what you say is true, that something in the land does thirst for blood. But the fact is, this land is not dying.” She held her hands out, gesturing at the greenery around her. “Cipactli, if she is real, obviously does not need flesh and blood so much as she wants it. I will be ruler of this land someday, and I will not stand by as my subjects die if I have the power to stop it. And I will not house the terrible urges to violate my beliefs, be forced to live with the gruesome images and nightmares that plague me and show me a future I cannot accept for myself. I will see this fairy and I will find a way to get the power to help my people. All of my people.”

  Chapter Four

  Saamal blinked, trying to think past the pleasant buzzing along his skin, the heady aroma of power in the air. His heart thudded against his chest, a solid thump more vital then he’d experienced in over a century. The fog that had clouded his mind and body for so long had finally lifted and he felt as if he were taking the first deep, clear breaths he’d had in over a century.

  Aiyana held his power inside her. She wore the skin of his spirit animal, the jaguar. He hadn’t thought she could be any more beautiful than she was as he’d always seen her, but standing in front of her and seeing her flawless skin covered in sleek fur, coal dust rosettes standing out against the pale gold of her pelt, golden eyes sparking with passion as she fought with him, argued with him… She was stunning. And the power. He could sense it, feel it even with the physical distance between them. Being close to her, to his power pulsing inside her, had him feeling like his old self again. Strong. Powerful. Invincible. It was intoxicating.

  And she wanted to give it away.

  “You will be queen one day, princess. You will join with the land, your life will be its life, your power its power. Would you so readily weaken yourself and your land by giving up the power the Black God has given you?” He tried to keep his voice calm and his claws carefully tucked into his fists. Someone had poisoned Aiyana against him, filled her head with lies and half-truths. He had to build trust between them, show her that he was not the violent beast she believed he was.

  “Only a fool equates power with violence,” Aiyana responded coolly, holding herself with all the regal bearing of the queen she would one day be. “I will not ask more of my subjects than I am willing to give myself.” Her voice softened and her eyes lost focus as if she were seeing something that wasn’t there. “My mother and father used to be under the thrall of the Black God. They allowed the priests to lead the sacrifice every year, allowed a young man to have his heart torn out of his chest for the sake of the land. It wasn’t until the Black God possessed me, tried to take me against their will, that they realized he didn’t care for the land. He only cares for himself, and following him would drive our kingdom to ruin, leave us a people who care for nothing but blood and war.”

  Anger rose up inside him, given wings by the power invigorating his body and spirit. “Your parents taught you to be afraid the Black God?”

  Aiyana dipped her head in confirmation. “They had the strength to turn away once they realized what he was truly like. And they had the strength to love me even though I was tainted.”

  Her voice broke on the last word and Saamal clenched his teeth to hold in the roar of fury that wanted to escape. How dare they make her feel like a monster? How dare they poison the people against him after all he’d done for them, for the kingdom? A terrible rage simmered inside him. A flash of lightening lit the sky, followed by a long, low roll of thunder. Saamal glared up at the sky and went still when he saw the vicious storm clouds hovering over the forest, pregnant clouds ripe with the threat of rain.

  “If you go there angry, you can draw some very bad things to you. The land itself can become scary if you put that kind of emotion into it.”

  Adonis’ words echoed back to him and Saamal sucked in a deep breath and willed his agitation to dissipate. Now was not the time to think of punishment or retribution. His first priority had to be Aiyana. He had to undo the ill will for him her parents had instilled in her. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t wake her…

  After he could speak without letting his emotions bleed into his words, Saamal fixed Aiyana with a solemn look. “You believe the Black God revels in violence, that
it is a hedonistic desire for him to see his people bleed and die?”

  Aiyana gestured around her again. “As I told you earlier, this land does not seem to be suffering does it? The sacrifice obviously isn’t necessary, so what other reason could the Black God have for insisting on it?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, a flicker of doubt that passed over her face. Saamal latched onto that doubt, searching his mind for something she might have revealed that would give him a hint as to where that doubt came from, a way he could feed that doubt and show her the truth.

  “You told me you had violent urges to spill blood on the land, to sacrifice your subjects and challenge them to fights to prove their strength.”

  Aiyana’s face hardened. “Yes.”

  “During those times you had those urges, those dreams, did you revel in the violence? Do you remember feeling joy at the death?”

  She opened her lips to respond, then closed them. Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip as if searching through her memories. Saamal tried to keep his attention on her eyes, ignoring the part of him that wanted to kiss the lip she was biting. Desire curled inside him like a supple tendril of smoke, filling his mind with images of what it would be like to hold her in his arms. He hadn’t anticipated the connection he would feel for her, the way the fire in her eyes when she fought with him would inspire an answering passion in him.