Blood Wars

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  Is he saying what I believe he’s telling me?

  Tyler couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He quizzically glanced at the deity.

  “You expect us to just march into the center of the most bloodthirsty empire in this part of Adar? You did forget to mention the welcome celebrations,” he commented sardonically.

  “Yes, I do. Yes, there will be celebrations. But that’s part of the plan,” said Viracocha.

  Duck shit.

  “That seems to be one of your favorite expressions. Quite appropriate.” Viracocha’s voice sounded in his mind. “The Aztecah now have fearful gods in their midst. Anyone who is not a major deity is worried. No, I think terrified is the proper term. Their patrons and the Aztecah pantheon apparently have no reservations about sacrificing their own to create avatars. Undead ones for those with mortal blood. Fuel for greater powers is the fate that awaits those of minor status. It is suspected that some are being turned into mindless instruments of war, though those beings still have to be seen on the battlefield.”

  “What?”

  “They feed on their own, First Mage. The balance is already wobbling. The involvement of their new-found masters had changed the normal state of things. Cultures should evolve on their own. They clash with others and in many cases, the conflict inevitably results in adaptations on both sides. A change in values and perception. It does take time, but it is inevitable, a natural course of human development. But these ‘patrons’ have corrupted and distorted that flow of fate. Their objectives are still unclear but whatever those are, they clearly run contrary to this world’s interests.”

  “Rebels?”

  “Terrified lambs. Some of the more astute are beginning to see that their masters’ hunger may consume them all in the end.”

  “So why don’t they kick them out?”

  “Ah, there’s the problem. A lot of their major gods are happy with the crumbs these entities have given them. These beings are also mighty in their own right, possessing strange and terrifying abilities. All we have are rumblings of discontent. Though one or two have the courage or are alarmed enough to think of working with their enemies.”

  “Now I get it. What makes you think it’s not a trap?”

  “It doesn’t smell like one. All they want is for matters to be back to what they were before. Wars, capturing sacrifices, plots and schemes. Without the involvement of these ‘patrons’.”

  “And you agree with that?”

  “One step at a time, First Mage. Cultures evolve in the natural course of things, as I said. Civilizations disappear or are absorbed by others. The Incans did conquer the Olmecs, the Chavin, the Moche, and other small civilizations who got footholds in this region. That ruined settlement was an Olmec village once. But they’re allowed to keep their cultures, but their gods were relegated to minor ones. Even back on the First World, the Incan empire was a multiethnic one though dominated by those of the Incan bloodline. I see no such pattern in the Aztecah now. It’s all – conquer, capture, and sacrifice. A course dictated by their masters no doubt. If that continues, and their overlords attain their objectives, I see an Adar devoid of human life except probably for humans maintained like cattle.”

  “No pressure then,” Tyler sarcastically replied.

  “I said it before and I’ll say it again. Sarcasm doesn’t fit you, Mr. West.”

  “What happens to you if they win?” Tyler asked the deity.

  “I am more powerful than most but, in time as my energies are used up, I’ll become a minor god. A wandering one, with no believers to maintain my strength. I’ve seen survivors of lost pantheons. Some went mad, a few turned to dark and evil arts to their eternal damnation, others wandered the world until the inevitable dissolution of their beings, and more tried to hide among mortals. Those that attempted to merge with human societies suffered the ravages of time as their magical reserves waned. They grew old as humans do and suffered the illnesses that afflicted mortal forms. Pathetic and sad. From a palace to a humble hut. But that’s the way of both worlds. Me? I’ll probably go to the Void Lands and try to do a final service to our Mother. Closing those aberrations in the dimensional plane will be a sacrifice worthy of a god.”

  “I guess you already have some friends on the other side,” said Tyler, changing the depressing topic.

  “One or two with the balls to take action. I’ll let Coniraya tell you about it. They did deal with him first.”

  The mention of the Incan deity of trickery brought to mind Loki’s advice. Any of the Norse god’s suggestions deserve a second and preferably, a third look. A full-blown examination if possible. Tyler realized by now Loki does not give advice or gifts without the act favoring him in the long-run. He looked at the torc Loki gave him.

  Fuck. He knew all along my path will lead me here and a damned kamikaze attempt. And Odin. It’s impossible he doesn’t know about Loki’s gift and he let Loki give it to me. It’s like those two are playing a chess game with me as a pawn. For their own cryptic reasons. But a knight-pawn. A new piece on the board. Good thing they still have no idea about my abilities. Or do they? Shit. This is giving me a headache.

  “You looked worried, angry, and upset all at the same time, First Mage. An interesting set of emotions all mixed up in your expression,” observed Viracocha.

  “It’s all of these events coming together and going off on different tangents. Numerous ones. And the feeling of being a pawn in the games of deities,” Tyler replied in an exasperated tone.

  “But knowing you’re a pawn is the first step in escaping being one. I know what you’re going through, wondering what are the intentions of the people who put you on the board. Thinking about how to break the pattern.”

  Tyler was surprised. That was what he was precisely thinking. The Incan laughed.

  “I’ll repeat what the god of wine told you. Change the game, bring your own rules.”

  This time he was shocked. He didn’t know the two were exchanging notes about him. He took a deep breath and composed himself.

  “You guys seem to know a lot about me. I can only pray you have my best interests at heart.”

  “We do, Mr. West. You are an extraordinary human. Maybe a harbinger of welcome change though the future is still unclear to me. You may turn out to be worse than those ‘patrons’ of the Aztecah. But we have no choice but to trust you. A First Mage did involve himself in this conflict to lend aid without questions on how it will benefit him. Though I knew the Elder site would interest you. Nor do I believe your arrival on Adar was by mere chance. Be stronger, be more powerful, and keep your wits about you. You have improved a bit though. Who am I kidding? A lot of improvement. But you’re less dense than the Mr. West who first arrived in this world,” laughed the Incan.

  “I am getting a headache. Thinking about the schemes and plot permutations. But you’re right. First things first. How do we find Coniraya?”

  “He is waiting at my temple. I’ll bring you all there in a while. After you take care of the parting gift the Aztecah mages left in those fields,” the deity said as he pointed at the churned landscape beyond the bridge. “Bringing you out requires that we should be beyond the distortion field around the temple. Unfortunately, it extends up to the ravine and a little beyond the bridge. You need to be a hundred feet from the bridge just to be safe.”

  “A parting gift?”

  “Some of their creatures.”

  “Those vindictive bastards.”

  Despite his surly statement, the mounting sensation of fear that manifested itself before every battle started. It worsened his feeling of helplessness, but it focused his attention on the immediate threat. He stood up and went to the deity’s side. The setting sun framed the panorama in a beautiful sketch, and the fresh breeze gently brushed his skin. He missed it all, his attention centered on the ground below and its hidden danger.

  “Any idea what awaits us?”

  “Naguals. And the undead. At least those with relatively whole bodies.”r />
  His skin crawled and his gut instinctively tightened. The graphic movie and television zombie scenes as well as playing undead RPG games had taken their collective toll on his actively vivid imagination.

  “You’re sure? And what are Naguals?” the mage nervously asked.

  “Why, First Mage. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn you’re starting to be scared,” joked Viracocha.

  “I am scared. Too many late nights watching horror movies.”

  “I won’t ask what are ‘movies’. I doubt if I’ll understand what they are, but Naguals are Incan creatures and the presence of the undead means the king of Mictlan is an active participant in this war,” said the Incan.

  “Now it’s me who doesn’t understand. Would you care to explain?”

  “Naguals are men who have the power to transform into certain animals – pumas, jaguars, coyotes, donkeys, among others.”

  “Donkeys?”

  Viracocha laughed. “Don’t tell Lord Dionysus or King Silenus. It is an Incan practice utilized by our mages, though few of them remain. It appears the Aztecah somehow found the knowledge. But based on what we have seen, I wouldn’t be surprised if they have improved the ability. Just be thankful they’re not ukuku.”

  “I hate myself for asking again, but what are ukuku?”

  “Ukuku are half-bear and half-man beings. Ferocious, fast, and with man’s intellect. Dangerous foes.”

  “And the king of Mictlan?”

  “Mictlāntēcutli, the Aztecah lord of the dead. He dwells in the lowest part of the land of Mictlan, their underworld. Ugly fellow. Tall and appears as a bloody skeleton, with eyeballs and bones with some fleshy parts still attached. Wears a necklace of eyes, still dripping with blood. His followers sometimes practice cannibalism in his temples.”

  “I wish I didn’t ask.”

  “Oh, here’s another interesting deity. Coatlicue, called the mother or grandmother of their pantheon. She walks around wearing a garment made from rattlesnake skin and also referred to as ‘the devourer of filth’. Unusual title considering her insatiable desire to feast on human corpses.”

  “Stop right there. It’s nearly night time. Nightmares shouldn’t be my concern now.”

  The deity guffawed. “I didn’t expect you to have such a receptive mind, Mr. West. Oh, the descriptions I could provide of the repugnant and bizarre deities of the pantheons. Stories preferably told at night.”

  Tyler could only shake his head. Great. I get to provide the late-night entertainment for this deity. It could be a learning experience but… nightmares forever.

  “Let’s go back. I lost my desire to be out in the open at night.”

  Viracocha’s mirth rang in his ears as his surroundings disappeared. The laughter continued as they reappeared in one of the empty rooms of the hall. They went back to the table, Viracocha back in his Wilan guise.

  “What so funny?” asked Tyndur, now awake and eating again.

  “I was telling our mage about the peculiar characteristics of some of the Aztec deities. He didn’t take it too well,” replied Viracocha as Tyler sat down and started eating. Astrid was still asleep and the priestess was checking her condition.

  “Come on, Wilan. You can tell me. I am always interested in the lore of other lands,” said the einherjar.

  “On the far side of the table,” replied Viracocha. “Our mage may be too sensitive about the stories.”

  Shit. Looking at a screen with the fugliest things a man could imagine doesn’t compare with somebody telling you they’re real.

  He continued eating though he could hear snatches of the conversation. Tyndur’s comments did nothing good to his appetite – “They do that? Throwing victims into fires and then ripping out their hearts after they’re cooked?”, “What? Bashing the brains out and collecting it in a bowl?”, or “That’s really disgusting. Orgies of eating bound human captives?”

  He finally gave up. He had lost his appetite. Tyler stood up and went over to Asem. She reassured him the Valkyrie was well on the way to recovery. Astrid will be back to normal by morning in her assessment. The mage told the priestess about their plan to leave after the sun came up and what awaited them in the fields beyond the bridge. Saying he was going to bed, Tyler asked Asem to tell the others. Trying to sleep, he could hear snippets of the conversation between Viracocha and Tyndur. He didn’t know if the topic was the Aztecah pantheon or some other group with similar practices.

  Damn that Viracocha, he silently cursed as he pulled the blanket over his head.

  Chapter Lore:

  The Four Gods – Aztec mythology. The Aztec believed that four gods created the world: Tezcatlipoca, Quetzalcoatl, Huitzilopochtli and Xipe Totec. They are also respectively referred to as the Black, White, Blue, and Red gods.

  Olmecs – A culture believed to be the oldest Mesoamerican civilization (1700-200 B.C.).

  Chavin – Another South American civilization considered to be the most advanced during its time (900-100 B.C.).

  Moche – A Mesoamerican civilization located in Peru (100 B.C. – 700 A.D.).

  Chapter XIV

  Wishing for a Rumble

  Tyler suddenly awoke and found himself in familiar gray surroundings. But this time, standing in front of the massive excavation he saw before. But the stone pillar was gone, replaced by an innocuous one-foot-tall ebony idol, bounded by a moving dark smoky mass. The mage couldn’t observe what it looked like. It seemed to be characterized by long and snaky protuberances. His eyes instinctively shied away from the statue. A mere momentary glance inflicted pain on one’s body and soul.

  These guys again, with their stereo voices and offers of snake oil. I preferred a run-of-the-mill nightmare.

  “We meet again, archmage to be. You are growing in power and strength. But not enough.”

  The mage noticed that the speaker, though the sound again echoed through the dreamscape, was a different being. Gone was the slimy and repulsive aura which attended the utterances of the first. This representative had an almost pleasant timbre in its speaking voice. A deep and friendly atmosphere seeped around Tyler. It made him more suspicious.

  “May I ask how the hell are you able to find me?”

  Something tittered blasphemously in the unmoving air. He could perceive the swirling movements of invisible airborne currents of force.

  “We always know where you are. Though making possible this meeting was strangely more difficult. An anomaly in the energy field. But that’s not the reason for this rendezvous. A disturbing development. An unwelcome surprise. The profane upstart Followers of Vaults of Zin, thought to be gone from the worlds. Rank amateurs as always, they have shown their presence too early on this plane. But a foothold did they build, and that will not be tolerated.”

  “Why don’t you do something about it then? You didn’t have to drag me from my sleep.”

  A sudden gust of wind, smelling of charnel pits and unwholesome scents, buffeted the mage.

  “Be careful with your words. You may have the potential to be archmagi, but you are not one yet. You fail to realize the full might and majesty of the powers surrounding you now.”

  Touchy, touchy. Insufferably arrogant too. I drew aggro, I believe. Bad move, Tyler. But these bastards wouldn’t have brought me here if they didn’t need my help. The story of my life.

  “For the nonce, our purposes converge. A day or two hence, a great celebration will happen in their temple city. Some of us shall be there. Though we cannot enter their place of temporary refuge, it is imperative that you go inside and destroy all repositories of power found within. We will distract them and mayhap, destroy some or all of them.”

  What’s this? Serendipity? If there’s one thing I have learned in this crazy world, it’s the rule of don’t trust seemingly fortuitous events. But it appears they’re not that mighty and all-knowing after all. They didn’t know about the reason for the anomaly field nor did they know of what was planned by Viracocha.

  “Can you
destroy what you can of the temples while you’re playing?”

  “We will see. Though crippling their minions would be a welcome opportunity. But they may be of use to us in the future. Once they have been shown the true path.”

  I don’t know if I am but laying the foundations for a bigger problem. But beggars can’t be choosers.

  “Done. But what do I get out of it?”

  “A demand typical of your race. Here, a token of our goodwill. Use it well. And you will be there.”

  A thin stone tablet appeared before Tyler, floating in the air. It had five lines of the squiggle characters the mage saw in the slabs found in the Elder temples.

  “Read it.”

  Tyler looked at the wavy lines and was surprised that he could understand what was written. Then the plaque disintegrated.

  “Farewell, archmagi to be. You will be there.”

  He woke up. It was still dark and the surroundings were quiet except for Tyndur’s snores. He thought about how those beings were able to find him and the new lore given to him.

  “Guys. Another strange dream. The gray wasteland again.”

  “You seem to have more than the usual number of that mental diversion, Elder,” said Hal.

  “They’ve got no respect for privacy, Hal. But they let slip something which you guys will find interesting. They said they’re always able to find me. Why is that?”

  “A curious statement, Elder. You believe these dreams, in some way, are real?” commented X.

  “Unfortunately, yes. I was able to get something out of them. Probably a new ability, but it was written on a tablet and the characters suspiciously looked like Elder writing.”

  “Let us check, Elder.” The finding came back immediately.

  “A new ability is indeed in your knowledge base. A personal teleportation spell but good only for short distances. Around ten to fifteen feet,” said X. “Though this development raises more questions.”