Blood Wars

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Well, that’s one concern we now have between us. The short span of a mortal’s life. I do understand her fear and reservations about it. The death of someone you love is always a devastating experience. I think the unexpected demise of her brother also played a part in her outlook now.”

  “Things have a way of sorting themselves out, you know. That’s one thing I learned all these long years. You do have to work at it. And to help you with your concern, I’ll try to find a way to send word to her about you. Not that she’s easy to find in that ancient forest.”

  “Thanks, Wilan. I really appreciate that. I know she’s worried. She’d welcome any news about me in these southern lands.”

  “No promises, lad.”

  “That’s good enough for me, Wilan.”

  “But you may have to become a deity, a magical being, or something else. No getting around that. But going back to the situation here, now that Inti is known to be gone, the people consider Viracocha as the chief deity of the Incan gods,” explained the old man. “Though it is not known whether he has taken his place in the Incan pantheon.”

  After a while, they started to meet priests and acolytes. Every person they encountered stood to one side of the route and genuflected. Some even kneeled and bowed deeply. The old man had apparently made an impression on the temple’s inhabitants. Finally, they reached the main temple, a flat-topped pyramidal structure larger than the other two.

  “Wilan, a question. Why are Incan temples similar to that of the Aztecah?”

  “An astute question. But blame Viracocha. He’s the oldest of the deities in that part of the old world. Of course, when the first known civilization, the Maya, came around, he was there. Then the Olmecs, followed by the Incans, and finally the Aztecah. The deity had been busy during those times. So despite the great divide in time and distance, a lot of religious similarities can be observed. The Aztecah did prove to be the worst of the lot.

  “Not to sound sacrilegious, but quite a busybody,” commented Tyler.

  “You could say that. Ah, we’re here,” said the deity as he stopped before a closed double-paneled iron door.

  “The Villac Umu, or chief priest, is Ayar-Maita. A stern but fair man. Devoted to his god and the people. His chief religious function is divination. Nothing significant moves in this kingdom without recourse to an augury of some kind. Be respectful. He’s younger than me but still an old man.”

  The Incan mage opened the door. The space inside the room was vast. Though only a long wooden table with several chairs occupied it. The walls on one side had small openings near the high ceiling, letting in light and fresh air. Unlit braziers hung at regular spaces inside the chamber. At the head of the table sat a figure dressed in gold and white ceremonial clothing, consisting of a long shirt and trousers. A colorful cape was draped on his chair and a golden priestly headdress was on the table. Unlike the ornaments of the Aztecah priests, its design was relatively simple – a round helm with three metal feathers in front. He had pleated long silver hair with streaks of black and a hooked nose. He appeared to be fit for a man of his age; muscled arms complemented the sword sheathed at his side and the long staff leaning on the chair’s armrest.

  As the group entered, he rose and greeted them, a warm smile brightened his features when he saw the Incan mage. Tyler acknowledged the greeting with a slight bow of respect and voiced his thanks for the priest’s hospitality.

  “Please sit, friends of our kingdom. I apologize for bringing you here immediately without time for rest and nourishment but circumstances are not on our side. I had to talk to you first before the Chasqui arrives to summon you before the king. I have no doubt watchers are already on their way to him with the news of your arrival. Unfortunately, he is in the city. Not a long distance from this temple.”

  Duck shit. I think it’s politics. I’d rather go back and fight another Yayauhqui again.

  “Our oracles and far-seers have glimpsed your victory over our enemies. Now, I understand why many of our priests and champions have fallen. Defeating Yayauhqui was a great achievement, High Mage,” said the priest as he bowed to Tyler. “We have heard reports of such a powerful being but no proof of her existence. Nobody ever survived a battle with her in attendance. But now, we know what we are facing. She is not the only such corrupted form in their ranks. I fear the worse is yet to come. Even with all the help that is starting to arrive.”

  “How were you able to watch this battle and yet not the others?” inquired Tyler.

  “Proximity to the energies around the ancient temple and the presence of the voice of the gods, your guide, the mage Wilan.”

  “I gather you’re not that optimistic about the war then,” said the First Mage.

  “I want to be optimistic, but reality has a way of finding its way to one’s thoughts,” said the priest. “If only the Aztecah Empire were the sole problem facing us now.”

  I think that’s my cue, thought Tyler.

  “And what else could concern you? The Aztecah already pose a genocidal threat to your kingdom and its people.”

  “We can fight the Aztecah, High Mage. Our neighbors are waking up and sending us aid. The fates are still undecided on the course of this terrible war for blood and empire. Yet we face another grave threat. One which would surely lead to our death as a people,” replied Ayar-Maita. The old man looked at Tyler, distress in his eyes.

  “The worst kind, High Mage,” the priest whispered. “A cowardly yet arrogant young king who murdered his only brother for the throne, and greedy for more power, or whatever is left of it. Also, a brainless oaf, to worsen the situation.”

  Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. Everybody tensed except the High Priest and Viracocha.

  “It’s just your lost sheep,” said the deity. As Tyndur started to stand, the old man held out his hand, asking the einherjar to stay where he was.

  “I’ll get the door, it’s the least I can do for the bother he has been suffering,” Viracocha said with a droll grin.

  Suffering? thought Tyler. I hope it’s not another complication.

  As Habrok came in, the company all stood up to greet him. Tyndur, in particular, gave him a broad smile.

  “Greetings, sire. I hope I am not disturbing anything. I heard you had arrived but had a difficult time finding you among all these rooms. Nobody had an idea of where exactly you went.”

  “I guess you also visited the quarters of the priestesses. They’re about three doors away,” remarked the Incan deity.

  “Not intentionally, but their door was unlocked.”

  Tyler smiled. The ranger hadn’t changed a bit.

  “You finished Jorund’s funeral arrangements?” he asked.

  “Yes, sire. A grand one it was too. Though I could swear, I saw him in the crowd. He gave me a wink and disappeared.”

  “Maybe it was him, saying goodbye,” mentioned Tyler as he gestured for everybody to take their seats.

  “Now what’s this about you suffering?”

  “Nothing of the sort, sire. Only an obnoxious official was frequently asking me questions about you and our company. Of course, he didn’t get anything from me. I did get his money pouch twice. I was that irritated. Name’s Hual something. He said he’s an important adviser to the king.”

  “Hualpa Micos. A close confidant of the Sapa Inca,” said Ayar-Maita. “But called Anyas behind his back. Some refer to him as a pest. But a dangerous one, if you ask me.”

  “An unsavory type indeed,” remarked Habrok. “Gives you that slimy and repugnant feeling. But something is not right with that weasel. I can’t put my finger on it, but my instincts warn me every time he comes to visit. Actually, not warn but screams at me to run away. Bizarre reaction from me, I have to admit.”

  Tyler remained silent, listening to the discussion.

  Strange indeed. Habrok is an experienced ranger and a rogue to boot. He has been around. If he says something is not right with the man, then there’s something wrong.

 
“How about you, mage Wilan?” Tyler asked the deity, “Any information about the resident weasel?”

  “A dangerous and ambitious man. A minor noble. He went missing for a time and then just as suddenly came back. Became politically active and got wealthy too. Some mercantile venture up north, he claims. He appears to be human to me, but I may be in error. Experienced men like your ranger don’t get ruffled hair for no reason.”

  “Why so young for a king?”

  “The war had been deadly to our royalty,” answered the High Priest. “Especially when they’re expected to lead from the front most of the time. The ruling family had almost been wiped out by the war. He and his older brother were the only ones left, sons of a younger half-brother to the king. Less than a day before news reached the city of the demise of the ruling king, his brother fortuitously drowned in a well. Divination revealed the drowning but, for some reason, we could not determine why he fell into the water reservoir.”

  “He was pushed into the well,” the Incan mage suddenly remarked. “Two were present during the murder. One tall and one, a young man. Beyond that, a fog distorted my view.”

  “By Loki’s non-existent beard!” exclaimed Tyndur.

  There were grim faces all around. Despite the vagueness of the mage-guide’s description, the others apparently had come to the same conclusion.

  “Now, let’s not be hasty,” cautioned Tyler. “It could be other people.”

  And I am the Emperor of Earth if that were true.

  “Anyway, I have given you what basic information you need. Just be on guard. Any questions before I call for food and drinks?” asked the High Priest.

  “Two actually,” said Tyler. “One, do you still practice human sacrifice, and second, if he’s that bad a king, why not replace him?”

  “I’ll answer the second first. He’s our Sapa Inca. Our king. Rare are the occasions when people not of the ruling family try to take the throne by force. Brothers do fight for it as told in the epic tale of the half-brothers, Huascar and Atahualpa. As to your second query, we don’t perform that abominable practice anymore. The demise of Supay eliminated the last vestige of the rite though when he was in ascendance, it was becoming intolerable. But even the Aztecah pantheon was not unanimous in condoning human sacrifice. One major Aztecah deity, Quetzalcohuātl, the feathered serpent and their White god, was opposed to it. One of the reasons for his battles with the rest of their major deities. He is the only major Aztecah god who has no temple in Tamoanchan. A wise and prudent deity, keeps his distance from the mysterious patrons of the rest of the pantheon. He knows when he’s outmatched.”

  “Did you always fight with them?”

  “No, we even used to trade with them. Before, they got most of their captives from their wars in the Chichimeca domains and the previous campaigns against the Tarascans, Tlaxcalans, Cholulans, and other minor tribes found on the other side of their Empire. They didn’t lack for volunteers for their rites among their own people. Suddenly, the war between us erupted. I blame those mysterious patrons.”

  “They need more blood. The war won’t stop when they reach the far end of our borders,” Viracocha interjected.

  “That’s what I fear,” said the priest. “With each newly conquered kingdom, their strength multiplies. I fear for this world.”

  The old man sighed.

  “I have taken the liberty of calling for food and drinks. And rest if you can, the royal summons will come. My friend Wilan will show you to your quarters. I have to attend to my expanded duties. Before I was the High Priest of a wandering and exiled god. Now, I administer all priests in the kingdom. A few of the sun god’s priests and mages remain. I also have to keep up their spirits. Most died during the battle which deprived us of a king.”

  The old priest stood up and left the room. The minute the door was closed, the companions erupted into a babble of discussion. Tyler closed his eyes and let himself relax. Though he had to laugh when he heard the exchange between Tyndur and Habrok on Yayauhqui.

  “Was she pretty? You know. Pretty as in…” asked Habrok.

  “Men!” exclaimed Astrid.

  “Can’t really tell behind all the white face paint and large black circles around her eyes. Made her look like a bleached skull. With hair. And undead too. You should have seen her after our High Mage did his thing. She looked like an emaciated black mockery of a corpse. No. More like a walking long-dead cadaver with a bit of flesh still on her.”

  “Undead? And looking like that? Not pretty then,” concluded Habrok.

  “Well, she did have flowers in her hair,” Tyndur replied.

  Tyler stifled his laughter. His eyes remained closed, enjoying the feeling of being able to release the tension which filled him. He was wound up as tight as a spring. Now, for a few minutes, he could afford not to concern himself with threats in front and at his back. Unfortunately, it lasted for a minute.

  “Be careful with the young king, Havard. On his own, he couldn’t build a shack much less plan a grab for power,” mentally came Viracocha’s advice.

  “You suckered me,” was his only reply.

  “Not really. I merely steered you in the correct direction at the earliest possible time. Left to fester, this wound would have been a gangrenous one by the time you became aware of it.”

  “Why me? You know I hate politics. That was even in the rarefied air of the deities. More so in human politics. All the lies, fake smiles, motherhood statements, backstabbing, skullduggery, feet of clay, and other wonderful qualities which make politics such a wonderful place to be. I would rather be questing down in Tartarus.”

  “Don’t talk like that. The Tartarus part, I mean. Idle statements sometimes have a way of coming true. But in this current mess, who can I trust? The Incans, in general, won’t act against a ruling Sapa Inca. As the High Priest emphasized, he’s their king.”

  “That priest of yours seems like a decent man. Why not him?”

  “He won’t do anything against a king who has not done anything against his people. Yet. Besides, as you said, Ayar-Maita is a decent man. A merchant before becoming my priest. Why me, I don’t know. The Apuskispay is his brother. A retired warrior, an excellent one during his prime. He was also on the verge of entering my service. The priests had to throw him out of the temple just to get him to lead the army. Almost all the experienced men are already dead. A good family, their lineage is marked with distinction as loyal and excellent men and women of the kingdom.”

  “You owe me for this.”

  “I am already deeply indebted to you, Havard. One more debt wouldn’t hurt,” said the deity with a small laugh. “You know I can’t directly interfere. Sometimes I bend the rules when I think I can get away with it. Forcing people to do something against their will is interference.”

  “And getting me to do your dirty jobs isn’t?”

  “Somehow, I think the Elders and the deities missed that. You are not of this world. I daresay the restriction doesn’t apply to you.”

  “Oh, man. Please don’t spread that around. Please. That would be one debt paid in full, interest payment waived. I have enough on my hands as it is. But I guess you would make a great lawyer back on Earth.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I shudder to think of what some of those brainless excuses for gods would do if they knew. You’re doing fine for a mortal in your circumstances anyway. More meddling in your affairs is the worst thing that could happen. But I can’t tell you what to do when the time comes. That’s tampering with fate. Even I wouldn’t think of attracting her attention, much less anger her. But what’s a lawyer?”

  Her? Is Fate a being in this world? Shit.

  “Lawyers are your best friends. Let’s play it by ear then. But I guess we all need rest. Even for a little while. A nap in a proper bed would be a desirable proposition for me right now.”

  “Oh. Forgive me, First Mage. Sometimes I forget I am a deity,” chuckled Viracocha. “I’ll take care of it. Though your companions seem to
be having a good time.”

  Tyler opened his eyes. The Incan god was right. The group appeared to be enjoying themselves. Talking about their experiences, laughing, and even Asem seemed to be participating. He assumed the rest of the companions introduced her to Habrok. Food and drinks were already on the table. The servers must have brought them in without him noticing. The mage noticed he was starting to be less on guard when Viracocha was around. Whether that was a good thing or not, he didn’t know. But the human mage didn’t feel hungry at the moment. He blamed his loss of appetite on the Incan deity.

  “Come on,” said Viracocha as he stood up. “Let me show you lot to your quarters. It will be a common room for now. Having separate rooms is not practical considering we don’t know what the king intends to do to show his hospitality.”

  The group followed the Incan out the room. After a few turns along the stone corridors of the main temple, he showed them to a large room, with a table filled with food and drink between two rows of five beds each. Wash basins were arranged in a corner of the room, with accompanying towels. By unspoken agreement, one side of the room was occupied by the men while the other was taken up by Astrid and Asem. Surprisingly, Viracocha went to the last bed and also lounged on it. Noticing Tyler’s astonished stare, he smiled and winked.

  Tyler closed his eyes as he rested on the bed. He was starting to hate these quiet moments. These were the times when the stress and the gloomy thought of possible death or a worse fate rear their ugly heads. The thought of Fossegrim Forest drove away the unwelcome thoughts and assuaged the worries of his stressed-out mind.

  Eira. I wonder how is she doing? Probably doing her nightly rounds again. She does take her responsibilities seriously. I miss the sound of her laughter and that beautiful innocent face.

  He thought of her walking towards the house in a bright sunny morning, the dew still fresh on the grass. He imagined himself watching her approach, dressed in that simple white dress, the crisp gentle morning breeze gently blowing through her beaming face and the folds of the cloth.