by R. E. Carr
Jenn held onto her elk for dear life as it tore into the tree line. Branches smacked her face relentlessly. She made little attempt to dodge and weave. She turned to look back once, but she could not scream. Her throat closed as she saw a monster chasing past Pituk’s terrified Jar-Elk.
A rider in black closed in for the kill. His elk had stripped-bone antlers. It knocked Pituk off and then trampled his body, filling the forest with a disgusting, wet crunch. Jenn spurred her beast again and again, trying to make her mount tear through the increasingly dense forest.
“CALA, help me!”
“I have never had a body, Jenn. I do not know how to—System Error Fourteen: Interface intrusion. Something is attempting to sever our connection, Jenn.”
“CALA!”
“We fight in the name of the sun. All fall before his chosen warriors—”
“CALA!”
“We rose from the ruins of Tikal and the battlefields of Those-Who-Cannot-Be-Named.”
“CALA!”
“Initializing Language Database 46: Maya.”
“Why are we speaking in Mayan? CALA, can you—?”
Jenn snapped back into the present as a branch clotheslined her. The wind rushed from her lungs as she crashed to the ground. Her hands clawed into the soft, slippery detritus of the forest floor. As she tried to get up and run, the same loose material kept her from finding her footing and forced her time and time again onto her stomach. Her foot finally pressed against a root, giving her just enough traction to scramble back to her feet.
“Who are you? What do you want?” She screamed at the black-hooded figure riding up to her. It stopped.
Jenn dove into a tangle of brambles. Trapped, she whirled around and fumbled for a stick, or rock, anything. The assassin turned his mount to block the path. Jenn pressed back into the growth as blood trickled down her arms and face.
“How can you speak the holy language?” it asked, its voice dripping with an unfamiliar accent. It kept its face hidden under the oppressive hood.
“You killed them! Why? Why!” Jenn cried.
“Are you the Serif-fan?” the stranger asked as he lowered the crossbow in his right hand. With a single, deft motion it flipped a steel bolt out of a quiver and snapped it into place. As she heard the twang of the bowstring, Jenn’s throat clenched again. She dropped the pathetic little stick she had been holding in self-defense and fell to her knees.
“Y-yes,” she choked out.
“You are a brave woman for admitting as much. I will give you an honorable death.”
Jenn remained frozen in the clearing. Her tears cut a swath in the grime on her face. “There’s nothing I can do,” she whispered. “CALA, can’t you save me now?”
The assassin swung his leather-clad legs over his saddle. He turned to face Jenn and flipped back his hood, revealing a violet-and-black headdress of feathers. His face was like an ivory mask—complete with vacant white eyes. The crossbow didn’t waver as it rose slowly to the level of the gem on Jenn’s forehead. Jenn narrowed her eyes as she saw the silver necklace he wore. “A feathered serpent—I’ve seen that before.”
The stranger cocked his head. Jenn remained frozen. “You deserve a warrior’s death,” he said, lowering his crossbow. He eased back slowly and unhooked the weapon on his mount. A moment later, Jenn could hear a sword being drawn. The mask fell into the leaves. She looked up at his face again, and now saw coppery skin and a hooked nose. This stranger’s features were distinctly Native American. He raised a gleaming saber to the sky. She began to giggle uncontrollably.
“I am Eon, the Phantom who controls your life. You have been dead for two days, and have not known it. I will rectify the Gods’ mistake now,” Eon said. His white-irised eyes stared right past her.
“There is a Maya about to kill me with a Spanish sword!” Jenn completely lost it her nervous laughter got louder. “How fucking ironic!”
Eon’s sword froze only a millimeter away from her throat. The cold steel barely touched her trembling flesh. Jenn looked up and stared the assassin right in the eyes. “What did you just call me, dead woman?” he asked.
“You’re Maya, aren’t you? Let me guess—your people got zapped over here by a bunch of pyramids a few hundred years ago,” she choked out. The sword remained ever-present and frighteningly still.
“You have seen the pyramids?” he asked, still locked in the death strike.
“Mesoamerican archaeology was my favorite class. I saw Tikal and all the Chichen Itza stuff. I know what you are.” She stared at his reflection in the sword. His arm tightened. Jenn held her breath.
“You know of Tikal?” Eon dropped his sword. As it made a soft thud against the ground, Jenn gasped.
“It was a capital or something. I don’t remember it all. I—I tended to fall asleep since class was at eight a.m.” The giggles returned to her voice again.
“You’ve seen the Land of One Moon? You, who laugh at death itself?”
“Yeah, where I come from there is only one moon—”
“And you know the language of the Great Ones, the Ones Who Stayed Behind?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Do you know who this is?” he cried, grabbing furiously at the amulet around his neck. “Do you?”
“It’s—It’s, oh God . . .” Eon reached for his sword. Jenn screamed, “It’s Kukulkan! Kukulkan! I remember, it’s Kukulkan.”
Eon halted. “I have been betrayed. The machine men wish me to take arms against a viracocha—”
“I’ve heard that word somewhere,” Jenn muttered.
“I have committed one of the unforgivable sins, Great One. Please take my life and blood in appeasement!”
In a radical change of position, Eon threw himself onto the dirt, his hands bared in front of her. She stared at the black chains looped in and out of the skin on his wrists.
“What? I don’t want your blood . . .”
“My sacrifice has not been taken? My descendants and I are to be damned?” he asked.
“No! No damnation! Um . . .I don’t know what to . . .”
Eon began chanting as he genuflected. Jenn slowly got back to her feet. She eyed the path. Her mount had been lost to the Holy Forest. She tiptoed over and picked up the sword.
“Where did you get this?”
“The one who purchased your life gave it to me as my weapon. He said it came from a great warrior people.”
“You have no idea,” she muttered.
“Construct Assistant Level Beta back online.”
“I am having another weird moment here, CALA. This guy is a Maya warrior and he wants to kill me.”
“He appears to be Homo sapiens sapiens, Jenn. He is also speaking an Earth-based language. I am, however, unsure as to why he exists here.”
“Someone purchased my life, CALA!”
“There are many enemies of the Beast Tribe—”
“I’m about to tell Rheak to shove this Serif-fan business right up his electronic—”
“The Maya is getting up. Jenn, I am detecting—”
Eon stood slowly, walked to her, and then dropped to his knees again, keeping his wrists high. “My lady viracocha, I offer these sacred chains to you. Accept my servitude if my blood displeases you,” he said.
“You don’t want to kill me anymore?” Jenn asked.
“I swear to you by the most holy sun that I have no desire to take your life. I have purged such thoughts from my soul.”
“OK! Help me. Whatever. We need to get back to Gracow City.”
“I live to serve you,” Eon said.
Jenn walked stiffly down the path. Eon remained a few steps behind, his head bowed. Finally, as they reached a creek, Jenn threw her hands up in the air.
“No! Wait! You killed Pituk and Grimal, and you were going to kill me. What the hell are you?”
“I am nothing now,” he said softly. “I am cursed.”
Jenn collapsed beside the water. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t tak
e any more death.”
“Is there anything I can do? I am cursed, but . . .”
Jenn grabbed one of Eon’s chains. The black metal snapped easily in her hands, and the chains began to unwind. As the last section of the delicate bonds fluttered to the ground, the assassin grabbed his eyes in panic. Sparks of electricity burst from the back of his neck. When he looked up next, a deep purple color returned to his irises. He slammed them shut again.
Jenn scrambled away from the sizzling warrior.
“CALA, what’s happening?”
“I detected a foreign technological device connected to your assailant. As I attempted to access its function, I connected to extreme behavior-modification software. This human has been reprogrammed by a highly advanced—”
“What?”
“Jenn, engage consciousness immediately!”
“What the hell?”
“You are a viracocha!” Eon gasped. “You set me free. The light! The light of the holy sun—”
“What . . . ?” She watched the blood dripping down his hands. “I’m sorry . . .”
“You set me free,” he whispered. Slowly, he looked up at her again, squinting even in the dim afternoon light. “Why? Is this a test?” he asked.
Jenn remained stunned and silent. Eon ran his fingers along the rivulets of blood. He then gently touched Jenn’s cheek. The red streak he left ended just above her lips.
Jenn gulped, spellbound by the intense, flickering color of Eon’s eyes. “It’s not a test,” she managed to say.
The two of them stared at each other. None of the sounds of the forest reached them. The rustle of leaves stopped short of the circle they had created by the creek. Eon looked over every inch of her face with the same precision he had shown in every other motion before pulling his single finger off her cheek. He dipped it in his blood again and traced a pattern out from the first mark. Jenn tried to say something as he finished his gruesome calligraphy, but once again her voice failed her.
“I am forever yours, viracocha. I swear all that I am to you.”
“Uh . . .” she stammered.
“CALA, what the hell happened?”
“Only holy beings can break the blackened bonds of infernal slavery, at least according to one legend I accessed from Yeiwa’s database. I thought it was a desperate moment, so I stimulated a bit of adrenaline while disengaging the mind-control device—”
“You did this? Now he thinks I am some sort of—”
“I was trying to find a way to save your life. You did ask me to help, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to lie to him. I’m not holy.”
“According to the texts I can find on ‘Phantoms,’ they consider all humans from Earth holy. You are not lying at all.”
“Really, CALA?”
“Affirmative.”
Jenn broke the spell, and took a step back. “It’s OK. Your bonds are broken.”
As Eon looked at her again, tears streamed from his eyes. “I am not worthy, viracocha. I see the stone in your forehead, but you are no Oracle. You are holy.”
“Call me Ji-ann, err . . . Jenn.”
“Am I worthy, Ji-ann?” Eon asked. He took a tentative step forward. Jenn found herself blushing.
“Please. You’re worthy,” she said quickly, turning away from him. “I know I come from Ea—from the One Moon Land, but I don’t need anything special, really.”
“As you wish, Ji-ann.”
“That’s better.” She collected herself and turned back to him. “You’re Eon, right?”
“It was the name given to me when I was bound. I was born Aj’Chatan Tzin.”
“Aj’Ch—Can I just call you Eon?”
“Of course.”
“Now, Eon, let’s get back to the city. We’ll talk more when we’re back in civilization, OK?”
The Maya nodded and began leading her and his mount down the riverbank. Eon forced them to walk through the shallow water, careful to make sure that their feet fell only on gravel or stone. He kept listening to the various animals all around. Unlike Kei, he moved slowly, constantly checking on his slower companion. As the sun began to set, Eon tied off his elk.
“Is this camp suitable, Ji-ann?” he asked.
“Camp?”
“Do you wish to travel through the night? I thought you looked tired.”
“You’re stopping because I looked tired?” she asked incredulously. “Uh, yes. I guess we’ll stop here, then.”
“Sit down. I will take care of everything.”
She plopped down on a fallen log and watched as Eon cleared a patch of land and made a little fire. He unrolled a beautifully woven red-and-green blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He then proceeded to pull a few small purple and red objects from his saddlebags.
“Are those what I think they are?” Jenn asked.
“I have little to offer you save roasted potatoes. It is not much, but I was traveling light through these hostile lands,” Eon said as he speared the tubers on a stick.
“Oh my God, I haven’t had potatoes since I left home. They are my all-time favorite food!”
Eon smiled. The effect was slightly disconcerting on his black-painted lips. “They are a blessing from the sun. They also travel well.”
“May I have one?” Jenn asked.
“Of course. Do you prefer purple or red?”
“Um, red. Purple food is kind of scary.”
Eon set the spits over the fire. He then pulled away his cloak and rested it at her feet. Jenn stared at his bare chest. Not a single ounce of fat sat on his lithe frame, much like Kei. Unlike Kei, Eon was tall and stretched out, less boyish-looking, and even more muscular. As he snaked his way around the camp, Jenn found herself watching the delicate lines of his tattoos as they moved in the flickering light.
“Please, rest off the ground tonight,” he said, motioning her to come down from her perch on the log. “I think you will find this old robe most comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she said nervously. “Is that tattoo a jaguar?”
“When we are angry, the spirit of the jaguar enters our soul and gives us strength. I gained this mark after I assassinated a traitor who sought to overthrow our empress. The one on my back is an image of Kukulkan, as you well know. His image was given to me on the day of my enslavement.” He paused to check on dinner. The fire turned his skin almost crimson.
“It was assumed that Tlacolotl would claim my soul, but an astrologer said that a shooting star crossed over my heart as the pure moon rose highest in the sky. Although I was a Phantom, and thus a servant of darkness, Kukulkan had spared me.” He looked heavenward and smiled. “I would not spend my eternity in Mitnal, freezing without the light of the eternal sun, after all.”
“And all the feathers, are they for Kukulkan too?” Jenn asked.
“No, they are trophies. One for every life I have taken,” he said.
“There are so many . . .”
Eon pulled a knife from his belt. One by one, he began cutting them from his hair. They fluttered down into the fire, disappearing into the embers and filling the night with the smell of burning birds.
“Eon?”
“No longer must I wear these trophies,” he spat. “I am freed of my service to the darkness, am I not?”
“Sure.”
“This one was a bookkeeper in Jimal. He committed no crime save honesty, and this one was an unfaithful wife. Their blood was bought cheaply.”
“Eon?”
“Here is a baker who shorted his loaves, and here is gambler who owed too many debts—”
“Eon . . . ?”
“I have been freed of this heavy duty. My life belongs to the sacred now,” he whispered as he continued to cut away the layers of feathers. Jagged locks of violet hair began to fall over his face. He paused and turned to her. “I am eternally in your debt, Ji-ann. As I live and breathe, I swear to you that no one will ever be able to buy your life, not so long as there is blood in this b
ody.”
“Thank you,” Jenn said. “I think.”
She curled as far as she could under the blanket. Later, she gratefully accepted her supper, devouring succulent roasted potato flesh with ravenous speed. Eon continued to hack away at his past until only one long feather remained. “This one was the traitor. I will keep his life,” he muttered.
Jenn kept staring at his dark purple hair and eyes. There were no visible roots that would indicate it had been dyed. Even his eyebrows had a purplish tint. Once he was free of his bonds he tugged his hair back, tying it up with the last of his feathers. He then pulled out his saber and laid it out in front of him, taking up silent guard over Jenn until exhaustion overtook her.
Kei stood over the bodies of Jenn’s guards. His companions nursed fresh claw marks on their faces and hands. Kei’s feral eyes glowed with anger.
“Kei . . . ,” Sotaka started to say.
“You sent her with only two guards, and you did not tell me?” Kei hissed.
“If this assassin was strong enough to murder Pituk and Grimal, it would not have mattered if the rest of us were there. Kei, there was nothing you could do.”
Kei snapped around with surprising speed. Even as blood oozed from his neck, he picked up Sotaka and raised him overhead. The spider shaman hung limp until Kei dropped him.
“I should have been there. I failed her . . .”
Sotaka brushed himself off. “You were still bleeding, Kei. No! Don’t interrupt me! There was nothing you could have done. However, there is still no trace of Ji-ann’s body. I pray we are dealing with a kidnapper, not an assassin. Save your strength, Lord Zhanfos. We are going to need it to find this monster.”
Kei dug his claws into his bandages. “He invaded our Holy Forest and took her. Why did the spirits not stop him, Sotaka?”
“The spirits are guides, not saviors. Now concentrate, Kei. Your sense of smell is far better than mine. Which way did they go?”
He closed his eyes and tried to pick up the trail. Stiffly, he raised his arm and pointed south. “I would know her scent anywhere.”