by Lani Forbes
Yemania’s arms relaxed ever so slightly.
“Well, you weren’t supposed to die alone in your room. That wasn’t part of our agreement either.”
Mayana gave a watery laugh, rubbing her nose and sniffing loudly. “Thank you for making sure I honored our agreement. You are a talented healer.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have healed your skin with the poison still inside, but at least you didn’t die on the spot.”
“You need to give yourself more credit, Yemania, you saved my life.”
Yemania shrugged. “I love healing. I actually always wanted to start my own business selling remedies and cures for the commoners who don’t get royal healers. I will never get to live that dream now that I am sentenced to die, but it looks like I have a little more time to imagine it, at least for the time being.”
The wind flew out of Mayana’s lungs. “What do you mean, more time? What happened?” She dug her fingernails into her palms.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“The prince left yesterday morning to lead an army to the maize fields at the foot of the Miquitz Mountains. Just outside of Millacatl.”
Mayana’s head throbbed, like the scorpion poison had somehow found a way back into her body and was slowly killing her heart and her vision all at once.
She stumbled sideways, and her shoulder slammed against the doorframe.
“How did you not know?”
“Yemania, I just left Coatl’s room. I barely have the strength to stand as it is. The first thing I wanted to do when he gave me permission to rest in my room was come talk to you. He told me what you did to save me.”
Yemania studied her with a look almost like pity.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”
Yemania could not have said anything more painful. It reminded her of how much she missed Ahkin and worried for his safety, but also of how guilty she still felt about their sudden romance. A romance that essentially doomed Yemania to die alone. How could she do that to the friend who had just saved her life?
“Yemania, I can’t let you be sacrificed.” Mayana stomped her foot in stubborn determination and immediately regretted it as searing pain lanced up her calf. She stumbled back onto the doorway and pushed herself back to standing.
Yemania studied her through narrowed, and slightly amused, eyes. “Oh, you’re not going to let me?”
“Yes! If I’m going to be empress, then surely I can …”
Yemania held up a hand to stop her.
“Mayana. I know where you are going with this. You cannot save me. My death will honor the gods and bless Ahkin’s coronation. You would be risking the success of his reign to even suggest withholding blood from the Mother goddess over your own selfish desires. You would bring a curse upon us all. If you truly want to help me, then reject him. Say no. Let us begin our journeys through Xibalba together.”
Mayana resisted the urge to cover her ears with her hands. She refused to consider the possibility of losing Yemania. “No. I can ask him to spare you. He will be grateful you saved my life. He’ll listen to me.”
“You think he would defy the gods?”
Legend said that when the volcano at Papatlaca erupted and destroyed the Third Sun, that the pressure and tension had been slowly building for years. Mayana was the volcano. Years of repressing her doubts and frustrations with the rituals and suffocating rules laid out in the codex, of suffering under the crushing disappointment of her family, of having to watch the blood of innocent creatures spilled over and over again without her being able to stop it suddenly erupted from her like liquid fire.
“I am tired of being silenced. I do not believe the gods demand these rituals from us.”
Yemania froze, her mouth slightly open, but she did not back away. Mayana continued to vent the words that had built up pressure inside her heart from the moment her father had killed her dog and she had gone to read the texts for herself in the temple.
“I think they were created by our own people to give us some sense of control in avoiding the end of our world. But it isn’t up to us! We do not have the power to prevent an apocalypse. The gods alone have that power. Am I the selfish one? Am I the one dishonoring them, when we minimize the sacrifices they made by thinking our actions can save us? We are not honoring them. We are negating what they did by taking our salvation into our own hands. We have fallen more in love with our rules than with the gods themselves!”
Mayana’s chest heaved and she raked her hands through her hair as she tried to calm her breathing. The fire within her cooled, like lava solidifying in the fresh jungle air as the earth released it from its depths. These thoughts had churned within her for years, ever since she saw the ritual codex sheets that seemed much newer than the original creation accounts and histories. How had no one ever questioned before? Maybe they had just been silenced too, forced to obey and not question.
“How … how can you even say such things?” Yemania’s lip trembled and her eyes shone with silver.
“I will show you.” An idea suddenly formed in Mayana’s mind. She would show Yemania the codices, show her that there was something different about the ritual sheets. If she just saw in person, maybe she would understand.
Mayana grabbed her hand and dragged her out into the hall. Her leg throbbed, but she ignored it in her desire to be vindicated.
“Where are we going?” Yemania’s cold hand went limp within her own, like she was already giving up.
“I’m taking you to see the codices. I want to show someone that I’m not just crazy, and I have my reasons for questioning the rituals.”
The fear that shone within Yemania’s eyes and the passionate energy coursing through her own veins made Mayana wonder if perhaps she was crazy after all.
She didn’t know why this was suddenly so important to her, but she needed validation. Mayana needed someone to see her for who she was—that she wasn’t a heretic. Then Yemania would understand, and she would let Mayana save her.
Chapter
33
If Mayana thought climbing the stone steps of the temple in Atl had been exhausting, it was nothing compared to ascending the stairs to the Temple of the Sun. The height was dizzying, and Mayana half expected the peak of the temple to pierce right through the clouds.
Yemania was reluctant to follow, but Mayana kept a firm grip on her hand, partly to force her to keep up and partly to steady herself, as the pain in her leg ached with each step. Mayana was being stubborn, she knew it in the depths of her heart, but she didn’t stop. She would make Yemania understand.
“What exactly are you hoping to accomplish here?” Yemania panted. Sweat beaded into little crystal droplets on her forehead, glistening in the blistering heat of the Seventh Sun. They passed lower-level priests and commoners bringing tributes or requests to the gods.
Mayana forced her foot up another step, the toe of her sandal catching on the edge and making her stumble. “I want to show you the reason why I started to question the rituals.”
“I thought you’ve never been to Tollan before.” Yemania frowned.
“I haven’t. But our codex sheets in Atl, the second city, are the oldest copies of the original sheets in Tollan. I am sure they are the same.”
“I don’t see how any good can come from this …”
Mayana groaned in response. “Just humor me for a few minutes. I’m trying to save your life, Yemania.”
Yemania did not respond, keeping her eyes focused on her own feet.
Finally, finally, they crested the final step. Mayana turned around to face the sprawling city of Tollan. The gold-and-white stone buildings stretched across the entire surface of the volcanic plateau, broken only by the dense greenery of trees growing between the structures. Birds flitted between branches, and the occasional small brown blur of a
monkey darted across rooftops.
A large plaza spread out below them, bustling with a busy marketplace. The citizens of the capital carried out their daily business, trading at stalls or chasing small children through the crowds. Mayana smiled at the life that throbbed within the winding city streets like the blood of a great animal, the temple sitting at its heart.
“It’s spectacular.” Yemania’s wide eyes roved the details of the city.
“Come on.” Mayana looped her arm around Yemania’s. She dragged her away from the edge and toward the shadowed depths of the temple. A large brazier burned within a square firepit, continually kept alive by the actions of the high priest. The codex stipulated that the flame never be allowed to die, lest the people of the Chicome die along with it.
So many rules to stay alive.
The many rooms interspersed throughout the towering columns housed the residences of the Tlana priests, supplies for religious ceremonies, and effigies of the gods themselves. If it was anything like the temple in Atl, one of these rooms would contain the codex texts.
Mayana was just thinking how surprised she was that they had not encountered another soul, when a Tlana priest materialized from behind a red pillar thicker than a tree trunk. He rattled out in front of them, bells and beads dangling from his neck and wrists. Long sloping dark feathers framed his face and red paint covered his wrinkled eyes and nose. He resembled an angry crimson turkey. Mayana stifled a giggle and bit her lower lip.
“Can I help you ladies?” His voice was deep and sorrowful.
Mayana straightened her spine and forced her tone to remain as cool and respectful as possible.
“We wish to study the codices.”
“With what authority do you have access to our most holy texts?”
“We are daughters of nobility, descendants of the gods themselves. Through my veins runs the blood of Atlacoya and through hers, the blood of Ixtlilton. These holy texts account our ancestors, and it is our desire to see them.”
The old turkey’s eyes appraised her up and down with suspicion. He did not speak for several long moments, and Mayana was sure he was about to refuse them when he gave a low bow and swept his arm to the side to allow them to pass.
“Thank you.” Mayana inclined her head.
“You will find the texts in that room there.” He pointed a finger at a door toward the back of the temple hallway.
“Quick thinking,” Yemania whispered, and clutched Mayana’s hand. They sedately made their way toward the door, both resisting the urge to turn and see if the priest was still watching them. Mayana wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to be looking at the original holy texts, but she had to admit she had sounded pretty convincing, even to herself.
Yemania stopped suddenly as they entered the doorway of the room where the codex texts were kept. Mayana jerked back, caught by her arm that was still looped through her friend’s.
“What is it?”
“I’ve just … never seen the actual sheets of the codex myself. Not in person.” Yemania’s voice shook with a combination of awe and terror.
“I only have once in my life.” Mayana’s mind flashed back to that night after Ona’s sacrifice.
“How did you get to see them?”
“I—no one except my mother knew. I think she felt the same way about sacrifices but hid it a lot better. She encouraged me to study the texts, so … I sneaked up to the top of our temple and saw them for myself.”
“Why did you want to?” Yemania cocked her head to the side. The gesture reminded Mayana of Ona, and a twinge of sadness rippled in her gut.
“I wanted to see for myself if the gods demanded all the rituals we follow.” Mayana rubbed her nose and sniffed. She took a deep breath, deciding she wanted Yemania to know everything, why she couldn’t accept the rituals and sacrifices as a way of life. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Yemania full in the face.
“When I was young, I could never keep up with my brothers. I was the only girl, and I was so often alone. My mother would notice, I think, how lonely and left out I felt. She … she gave me Ona. He was a beautiful dog, black as a dark night with eyes like almonds. He was smooth and warm, and he became my dearest friend, one of the only ones I had at times.”
Mayana lifted her gaze. Yemania was watching her with polite curiosity, but also with a tinge of pity behind her eyes.
“When I had seen eight cycles of the calendar,” Mayana continued, “my father decided that Ona needed to be sacrificed in honor of the month of the dog. It had been a difficult year for the family, the rains a little more sparse than usual, and he insisted that a sacrifice of great value was necessary. Sacrifices are supposed to be painful, as I’m sure you already know, to show our dedication to the will of the gods above our own. But I wouldn’t let him. I sneaked Ona out of the evening meal and tried to hide him. It didn’t work …”
Mayana would spare her friend the details of her anguished cries, her father’s fury, and her mother’s guilt.
“Ona was sacrificed, and my father forced me to watch. I … struggled with the decision. With what my father called ‘necessary.’ I had always been taught that the gods were loving, loving enough to die for us. I couldn’t make sense of how gods who died for us could demand repayment for their love. Ona gave love unconditionally. He never expected anything in return. So, I decided to see for myself.”
Mayana pulled her arm out from Yemania’s and nervously fiddled with the ends of her hair. She slowly walked to the intricately carved stone table where the various sheets of the codex were neatly stacked in their precise order.
She glanced up at the high ceiling, tall and narrow with carvings and paintings of the gods looking down on her and watching her every movement.
Reaching out and pulling the top sheet from the stack on the far left, Mayana motioned for Yemania to join her.
“These are the oldest texts we have.”
Yemania studied the pictures without words, colorful splashes across the yellowing paper.
“The creation accounts,” she whispered.
“Look at them. See how they are pictures alone without any kind of hieroglyph? And notice the paper itself, it is a different material than the sheets in these other stacks.” Mayana waved a hand absently to the right side of the table.
“So?” Yemania furrowed her brow at the creation codex.
Mayana slowly unfolded the sheet, showing picture after picture of the stories they had all been taught since childhood. How Ometeotl, both male and female in one, the duality, had created the other gods and the world. How her son, Quetzalcoatl, created the first people, but they suffered in the darkness without a sun. How Ahkin’s ancestor, the brother of Quetzalcoatl, gave his life to birth the first sun and save the first people from their sufferings. How the first people were subsequently destroyed by water after a god’s wife was stolen. How the gods wept for the loss of their beloved creations.
Mayana ran a finger over the image of her ancestor, the goddess Atlacoya, distinguishable by her blue dress and hair flowing like a river. The next image showed her stabbing herself with a knife of obsidian and hurling herself into the depths of Xibalba. From her blood, the Second Sun was born, and the bones of the people were brought back to life.
And so the sheet continued, outlining how each of the suns was destroyed until their sun, the Seventh Sun, was born from the blood of Tezcatlipoca, and the bones of their people given life to live as the Chicome, the seventh people.
“I know these stories, Mayana, we all do. I don’t understand why you think the rituals are no longer needed from—”
“But look at these,” Mayana interrupted her, pulling a sheet from a stack on the right. It was noticeably brighter, lighter in color than the creation accounts. There were still some pictures, but this sheet now showed mostly hieroglyphs, detailing instructions for a ritual to cleanse the bod
y.
Yemania frowned. “They’re different.”
“Yes,” Mayana breathed. “They are obviously newer, which makes me believe these were written and given to us by men, not the gods.”
“And if the rituals aren’t given by the gods …” Yemania curled her lip as if she had bitten into a chili pepper.
“This is why I struggle with following them so meticulously. Nowhere in the creation codex sheets does it call for repaying the blood the gods paid for us. There is no debt to be paid. It was selfless love that saved us. Sacrifice is the ultimate form of selflessness, and sacrificing yourself for others is the ultimate act of love.”
Mayana traced her finger again across the form of Atlacoya. The goddess had loved her people enough to die for them. The tears that rose in Mayana’s eyes surprised her. The knowledge that Atlacoya had loved them enough to die for them, that the Mother had loved them enough to let her daughter die for them, was almost overwhelming.
“I honestly don’t know what to think about all of this, Mayana. I’m sorry, but it’s just a lot to process.” Yemania carefully folded the pages of the codex and placed it back where it belonged.
“Thank you for listening to me at least,” Mayana said. “It’s more than anyone else in my life has done.”
Maybe it was hopeless to think that Yemania could be convinced to believe as she did, but when Yemania glanced back at the holy pages there seemed to be an intense war waging behind her eyes.
Chapter
34
Tlana priests, carrying effigies of the gods, marched along the jungle trade path. The volcanic plateau beneath Tollan disappeared behind them. Ahkin led the contingent of nobles and Jaguar warriors, but his mind was not on the procession. He had left without saying goodbye to Mayana, and a feeling like a heavy stone settled at the bottom of his stomach. What if she died before he returned?
The news of the coming battle had gone out to the main plaza of Tollan and a small army had been mobilized over the past two days. There were only about four hundred men aside from the regiment of fifty elite Jaguar and Eagle warriors accompanying them. Yaotl assured Ahkin that their numbers were more than sufficient for securing the border from Miquitz raiders. They were not facing the entire army of the Miquitz, or else they would have summoned soldiers from the other city-states within the empire as well.
