Jaguar Princess

by Clare Bell

  “Go!” she mouthed at the king when she caught a glimpse of him from between the sweating blackened bodies of the priests. Wise Coyote shook his head tightly. No. Even if Nine-Lizard failed, he would not desert them.

  The clamor and deathlust of the crowd swirled around Mixcatl, making her dizzy. The smells and the fears touched the beast inside and she felt it stir. Half in hope, half in dread, she silently coaxed the beast, but it was slow to rise…

  Now the priests and their captives ascended the lower steps of the pyramid. Mixcatl looked down and saw an endless tapestry of faces, all looking to her. Although a long queue of victims stood in line to give their hearts, the Aztecs had begun with their most powerful offering; an old man and a young woman of the Jaguar’s blood.

  Above her the drums beat, the chanting started, the plumes waved on the fantastic headdresses worn by the priests. High above, haloed by the blazing noon sun, she could see the tiny silhouette of Ilhuicamina. The Aztec was arrayed as a High Priest, holding a dagger. His command came down, thundering over the noise of the crowd.

  “Ascend, first of the blessed!”

  The priests grabbed Nine-lizard to send him staggering up the stone steps, but he shoved them away with surprising strength. He flung his head back, the tendons cording in his wattled neck. He inhaled and expelled his breath in sharp coughing grunts. His mouth opened, exposing weathered sharpened teeth. His face writhed and seemed to shift as he shouted, “If the High Priest would feed his god with the Jaguar’s Children, then let him see his victims!”

  A moan went up from the priests in the escort. They drew away. Others, made brave from frenzy, seized the old man to drag him up to the altar.

  Mixcatl lunged to break free of her captors but she fell against clasped hands that held her back. Again she sought her own jaguar spirit, but it would not come forth, as if it sensed that she could not really trust it. Everything was all happening too fast, she thought in despair. Nine-lizard would die and she could do nothing.

  Her lunge had brought her close enough to see Nine-Lizard’s eyes bulge, his cheeks quiver. His skin turned from weathered bronze to white, then went transparent and fell from his limbs as if he were shedding an unwanted garment. His flesh yellowed and black rosettes bloomed all over his body.

  Just as she feared that he might burst his heart from the effort, his form expanded, lengthened, his snarling face becoming the jaws of the spotted cat. The increased bulk of his muscled body stretched his garments until they tore and fell off. The yoke about his neck cracked and dropped on the temple steps.

  She saw the glint of astonishment and triumph in the rheumy green eyes of the old jaguar as he whirled to fling himself on his enemies. And there was something else in those eyes as well, the fire of madness.

  In the sudden panic that sent the priests scrambling back, releasing her, Mixcatl found Wise Coyote by her side, whispering, “Gods, he has damned himself to save us.”

  In a bound the great cat was halfway up the steps, yet he swayed and seemed to falter. The warriors and priests on the temple steps, who had shrunk back from him, closed in again. The old jaguar made one clumsy lunge and then fell heavily.

  Mixcatl knew then that the transformation had taken too much out of Nine-lizard. Again she called the beast within, trying to put aside the sight of madness in the old jaguar’s eyes and forget that she had heard Wise Coyote’s whispered words. Nine-lizard and Wise Coyote had both said she was free from the taint, but did they really know enough to judge? Huetzin’s maimed face rose up in her memory and she knew that she was still afraid of what she might become.

  She turned sharply at the sound of a scuffle beside her and saw Wise Coyote wrench a glass-edged sword from a startled warrior. Even as he leaped up the stone steps, the fallen jaguar shuddered and then shrank back into the shape of a naked, ugly old man crawling on his hands and knees.

  “Demon power cannot prevail before Hummingbird on the Left!” came Ilhuicamina’s thundering cry from above.

  The boldest priests descended on Nine-lizard to bear him up to the stone altar. They were met by the gleam and flash of Wise Coyote’s sword and the greasy black of bodypaint was stained with flowing crimson.

  Mixcatl scrambled up the stone steps and dropped on her knees beside Nine-Lizard. Above her. Wise Coyote stood, guarding the old man. At first she feared that Nine-lizard was dead, but she gasped when he touched her and made a clutch at her arm.

  “It has been…too long for me. You must…save yourself…”

  Above her head, the glass edge of Wise Coyote’s blade hissed as he swept it in a circle, fending off the priests closing in about him.

  In the crowd that pressed about her, she saw a familiar face. Six-Wind!

  “Help us!” she cried, hoping that her childhood friendship with the young warrior and the sympathy he had already showed her would sway him. She could see in his face that this sacrifice disgusted and revolted him. He also bore a greater respect for Wise Coyote than he did for the ruler of his own city. He had always been eager to step in on the side of the outnumbered. Would he do so now?

  A determined look came across Six-Wind’s face and he used his powerful shoulders to push his way through the crowd. Mixcatl could not read his intentions in his face until the last moment, when he broke through the ranks of the priests and leaped to Wise Coyote’s side, his own sword ready.

  As he passed Mixcatl, he pulled an obsidian dagger from his belt and tossed it to her.

  Even with the weapon in her fist and this unexpected ally, Mixcatl knew that her party was hopelessly outnumbered. Daggers and spears were appearing in the enemies’ hands. Soon Wise Coyote and Six-Wind would fall. Unless she could call forth the power of the beast that lay inside her.

  Her jaguar was rising, but so slowly, as if fighting its way through the heavy jungle. She knew what that barrier was. She was still afraid of losing herself, her soul, her art.

  Now two glass-edged blades swept in circles, keeping the crowd at bay. Six-Wind and Wise Coyote stood back to back while Nine-Lizard sprawled at their feet. Mixcatl crouched beside the old man, lashing out with the dagger at anyone trying to grab him or drag him away. When she was not fending off enemies, she tried to rouse Nine-Lizard from his exhausted stupor.

  “Priests of Hummingbird, stop!” The same voice that had roared from above was now closer. Mixcatl jerked her head around to see the Aztec ruler, arrayed as High Priest, descending the steps. Ilhuicamina folded his arms and glowered down at Wise Coyote. The spearpoints menacing the king of Texcoco drew back.

  “So have you changed your mind once again, my false ally?” Ilhuicamina asked. “Or have you decided to give a greater gift to Hummingbird than your skills at temple-building? Your heart, perhaps?”

  Wise Coyote held his sword level. “You speak of gifts to your god, Ilhuicamina. You have already given him your own heart, soul and mind.”

  The Aztec ruler’s face twisted and Mixcatl could see that Wise Coyote’s words had struck home.

  “I am tempted to deny you the honor of being sacrificed,” Ilhuicamina replied. “Death by drowning, like a common thief, and no tomb. Who then will remember the king of Texcoco?”

  “I would sooner be forgotten than hated the way that you will be.”

  The Aztec’s face darkened. “Hummingbird is angered by the delay. Seize the old man and bring the girl to the altar. And bring the heretic so that he may observe closely as she dies.”

  Before Mixcatl could scramble to her feet, strong hands wrenched the dagger from her grasp and pinned her arms. Wise Coyote’s sword was knocked from his grasp by a spear. Beside him. Six-Wind lowered his weapon, defeat showing in his face. Two warriors hoisted Nine-lizard between them. Two more took her and began to march her up the stone stairs. Beside her. Wise Coyote climbed, prodded on by spears behind him.

  At every step, the jaguar spirit rose inside Mixcatl, but it was still distant. The weight of fear, the unwillingness to give in to that side of her nature enmesh
ed the jaguar and dragged it down. Huetzin’s maimed face still haunted her.

  No! She hadn’t wounded him. She hadn’t lost herself to savagery, even in the pain of partial transformation. But what would happen in the full change? She still remembered the madness she had glimpsed briefly in the old jaguar’s eyes.

  And then the choice stood forth, as stark as the outline of the altar atop the pyramid. Only her heritage could save her and the men who were her companions. She had to trust in it or die.

  A strange calm settled on her. The barrier inside turned to feathers and the jaguar leaped through. She felt the skin of her arms begin to loosen in the grasp of her captors. Ilhuicamina, resplendent in his feathered cape and headdress, stepped back as she was dragged past. She caught a glimpse of his eyes and knew a moment of pity for him, for she knew that he was caught in the jaws of a beast far more savage than the jungle cat.

  The smell of rotted blood drenched the air at the top of the pyramid. Here stood the image of Hummingbird within the stone alcove of his temple. She fixed her eyes on the altar, which was carved with strange forms and marked with ancient stains. It was a block of stone with a rounded top where she would be spread with her back arched, her face up toward the sun. Beside the altar, on a bronze tripod, stood the casket of lava where her heart would be burned.

  A mixture of terror and triumph bounded up inside her. She planted her feet firmly on the bloodied top step, resisting the pull of the two men to either side of her. With a shrill cry, she jerked both elbows out of their grasp. The skin came off her arms like a severed sleeve. The change rushed upon her with a fever and intensity that she had never felt before. Eagerly she gave herself to the new strength swelling her limbs, bursting her skin.

  She shed both skin and garments as she leaped high, pushing off with hind legs that were already reshaping themselves into powerful hindquarters. A cry of dismay went through the priests surrounding her and they scuttled away. Time seemed to slow for her as the transformation surged through her body, changing, resculpting and shaping her form even as she rose above the heads of her captors, clawing triumphantly at the sky.

  When she plunged down again, she landed on all fours, the still-growing tail lashing her flanks. As she turned her head to the awed crowd upon the steps, the rich ceremonial colors of their garments paled in her vision, letting edges and movement dominate. She was almost grateful as the terrible beauty of the temple and the priest’s costumes dissolved into meaningless patterns. A high, hollow whispering and keening filled her ears and she realized that she was hearing sounds that were much higher and softer than those her human ears could detect.

  Yet even as she felt her senses become those of the cat, the loss of self that she dreaded did not come. Yes, the cat mind was there, guiding and controlling with its powerful instincts, but she, Mixcatl, was there as well. To the cat, there was no individuality in the wall of human faces that surrounded her. For an instant they all seemed enemies and instinct urged her to go wild, slashing and clawing a path through the hateful gibbering things that pressed so closely about her. Yet when her gaze found the features of Wise Coyote, she knew him, as well as Ilhuicamina.

  And she could understand words that the Aztec emperor spoke, although they buzzed strangely in her ears and were contradicted by the smell of hate and fear coming from the man.

  “The power of evil cannot stand against Hummingbird on the Left!” the Aztec cried, his voice growing shriller. He raised his hands to the heavens. “Hummingbird, strip the animal shape from this woman to show your divinity. Let her fall and grovel like the old man did before her!”

  The jaguar felt the sun beating down on her back, watched the crowd and heard many breaths being drawn and held. If Hummingbird had any power, she would feel it. The moment seemed suspended, drawn into the endless “now” of animal awareness that she was beginning to experience. And then, as the crowd breathed out again, she knew that the Aztec god had no sway over her except through her own belief. Only if she saw Hummingbird for what he was, an empty wooden idol animated by myths and hatred, only if she cast aside completely the religion that had been drummed into her for so many years, only if she put her faith completely in her own nature, would she keep the form and power of the cat.

  She felt a triumphant joy and knew the crowd would see no god-miracle. She wanted to shout out her victory but it emerged in a roar that shook the air and vibrated the stones beneath her feet.

  Slowly she turned to the men who held Wise Coyote. Beneath their bodypaint, the warriors paled and she could smell the growing terror. She knew that every instant that she remained in cat form increased their fear.

  With a snarl and lunge she scattered them, placing herself before the tlatoani of Texcoco.

  “Seize the she-demon and sacrifice her as she is!” Ilhuicamina commanded. “Hummingbird’s warriors have hunted jungle cats. Her pelt shall lay upon his shoulders as the pelts of those animals lie upon ours!”

  Wise Coyote interrupted him, shouting, “Your god is worthless! Not only your people but the true powers in the heavens have tired of pouring out blood for him.” The jaguar caught the motion of his hand, his finger pointing at her. “She is the sign they have sent.”

  About him people were starting to kneel on the stone stairs, moaning prayers. The jaguar heard it with mixed relief and despair.

  I am not a goddess. Do not try to set me up as one.

  She whirled around and faced Wise Coyote, forgetting in her haste that she could not speak. All that came out was a whine and a coughing grunt.

  “Cry and whimper before the might of Hummingbird,” Ilhuicamina shouted, taking a spear from his escort of warriors. “I will slay you and strip off your pelt.

  To me, all those who believe. Death to heretics and their pet demons!”

  The Aztec’s defiance emboldened the priests. They seized javelins. One advanced on Wise Coyote. The jaguar blocked the attacker, growling.

  Baring his teeth, the man flung the spear at her. It struck at the side of her neck and fell aside, doing no real injury. But even as the spear clattered onto the stones, the jaguar felt the blood well and drip from the flesh wound. She knew that it showed brightly against the white fur on the underside of her neck. It was a badge to her enemy, showing that she could be wounded or slain.

  Wise Coyote sensed it too, for he stooped beside her long enough to wipe away the thin trickle of crimson, but it was too late. Again there was a circle of spears about her and her companion. She felt Wise Coyote’s hand touch her back, as if saying farewell before the final battle.

  “Stand aside,” came a voice that she now knew well and hated. Above the heads of the priests she saw the plumed headdress and the turquoise band of the Aztec ruler. The jaguar crouched as the spears around her opened. She saw two figures. One was Ilhuicamina, the other a tall, plumed Eagle Knight. His javelin was raised, and his mouth grinned within the open beak of his eagle mask. He wore a jaguar skin draped across his shoulders and tied by the forelegs.

  Even as the jaguar sprang at him with flattened ears and open jaws, she felt the animal spirit within her grow in power, seeking another outlet. She felt it expand from her own body into the spotted pelt on the Eagle Knight’s shoulders. The skin billowed and lifted, with more than the power of the wind behind it. It expanded to become a live, clawing animal on the man’s back. He shrieked, cast his javelin aside and leaped from the tier to land far below among the crowd.

  Ilhuicamina, in his High Priest’s costume, wheeled, striking at her with the sacrificial blade from the altar. He had forgotten that he also wore the jaguar pelt draped down his chest. The skin writhed. The hanging head snapped up, fire flaring in its empty eye sockets. The Aztec fell to his knees, wrestling for his life with a jungle cat savaging his chest and throat.

  She let Ilhuicamina struggle wildly with the jaguar skin before she withdrew her power. Bleeding from deep scratches on chest and throat, the Aztec tore away the skin and called for help. No one answered. T
heir attention was fixed on her.

  Scornfully she turned her back on Ilhuicamina and forced her way down the closely packed stairs. Wise Coyote behind her. Nobles and commoners alike gave way, their features writhing in fear. She made her way to where guards held Six-Wind and Nine-Lizard.

  At the sight and sound of the jaguar, the press of people shrank away. She could see Nine-Lizard’s head turn and his eye gleam as he caught sight of her. He looked haggard and weak and she wished once again that her throat and jaws could form human speech, for she wanted to tell him that the flaw he feared in her nature was not there, that she could guide and use the instincts of her cat body without being overwhelmed.

  Trying to clear a path down the stairs, she made a short charge at the crowd, snarling. Lashing out with a paw made people leap back, but they only fell against and over their neighbors. The mass was so tightly packed that she and her friends were trapped almost as effectively as if they had been caged.

  Roaring in frustration, she pivoted and charged in a different direction, widening the clear area on the temple steps, but again, unable to break through. She began to circle, feeling panic, both human and animal, begin to grow. She broke from a fast pace into a trot, trying one side of the human wall, then the other, seeking a weakness. Sweat broke from the bottom of her pads and panic crawled like a parasite beneath her skin. It was becoming difficult to suppress the cat nature that urged her to leap on the nearest person, drag them down and savage their throat.

  Both Six-Wind and Wise Coyote were trying frantically to shove a way out through the throng, but neither could do it without abandoning Nine-Lizard. The jaguar bounded up and down the steps, clawing and snapping at bared legs or feet as she went by. The tension built in her until she feared she would go into a frenzy, but just as she found herself charging with intent to leap and kill, the power inside her broke free and scattered, like a handful of flung dust, into the crowd.

  As she skidded to a puzzled halt, she felt every piece of jaguar regalia in the entire crowd suddenly come to life, animated by her frustration and rage. Pendants of jaguar claws trembled on their wearers’ breasts and then began to hop and pierce the skin like ferocious insects. Necklaces of jaguar teeth twisted and writhed, rattling the fangs together. Some strung teeth jumped off their owners’ necks altogether and sought others of their escaping fellows so that the renegade molars and fangs took their places as if in the ghostly jaws of a cat’s mouth. Once assembled, the teeth took on a life of their own, bouncing around on the stone steps and biting at exposed heels or calves.