The Seventh Sun

by Lani Forbes

  At their backs, the thundering of hundreds of feet and the clatter of beads and bells on the warriors’ costumes were almost deafening. Ahkin gripped the sides of his golden chair, wishing he could just jump down and run away from them all, away from the prying eyes and expectations. Away from the eyes of the gods that were surely punishing him. Several royal naguals from Ocelotl, draped in furs of various wild creatures and adorned with fanged helmets to match, bobbed along beside him on the shoulders of their own servants. The slinking bodies of jaguars and wolves followed behind their masters, their jaws itching for the flesh of the death demons.

  With the well-maintained roads and the small size of their army, Ahkin expected to reach the outskirts of Millacatl by dawn the next morning. Metzi would have to raise the sun for him until he returned, but she hadn’t seemed to mind the responsibility as much as he thought she would. Still, Ahkin wanted this campaign over with as soon as possible. He wanted to make Mayana his wife, endure his coronation and the sacrifices of the other princesses, and then they could begin their life together. He would have appeased the gods. Then the rules of the codex would not hold him back from showing her how very much he wanted her. Dare he say—loved her?

  His mind flitted back to the night with her in the bathing pool and he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He needed to focus on the coming battle.

  “Are you alright, my lord?” Yaotl’s deep voice came from somewhere on his left.

  “Yes.” Ahkin cleared his throat and did not meet the eyes of his general.

  “You will come home to her soon, and when you do, you can come back an accomplished warrior. Sacrifice one of the demons to the gods in her name and make her proud.” Yaotl, wearing his warrior costume, looked as menacing as a prowling jungle cat. The jaws of the beast he had slain opened wide so that the cat appeared to eat his head as the teeth of it crowned his brow. The gold-and-black speckled paws rested on his shoulders.

  “I will capture another tomorrow. Mark my words, Yaotl.” Ahkin slammed a fist onto the armrest, sounding more confident than he felt.

  “I do not doubt it, my lord. Though you will have to capture many more if you ever plan to break my record.”

  “We will just have to see.” Ahkin gave him an impish grin.

  Yaotl didn’t smile in return. “We will just have to see if you can get your lady love out of your head long enough to focus on the battle itself.”

  “Don’t make me remove your title.” Ahkin lifted an eyebrow while Yaotl’s lips ticked slightly upward, not quite a smile, but close. His mentor was silent for several more beats of a heart, but then his face turned grave.

  “I only half jest, my lord. Make sure your head is fit before we reach Millacatl. Distractions are not welcome on the battlefield, and we cannot afford to lose you.”

  Ahkin frowned and did not respond. Yaotl was right. Ahkin was well trained. He had captured two warriors already, and his skills were acknowledged as superb even among the Jaguar warriors. Plus, he had an advantage over everyone else because of his heritage. But if he did not get his head in the proper place, none of it would matter.

  After a full day and night marching, the army of Tollan broke through a line of trees and were greeted by the expansive rolling fields that lay at the foot of the dark mountains. Acres of fields and orchards produced every plant and food imaginable around the stone city perched upon a small grassy knoll. Though made of stone instead of gold, Millacatl rivaled Tollan in wealth. The abundance of food and plants provided the city-state with the most luxurious of fabrics and dyes, and the fact that they grew the empire’s currency within their cacao groves had established them as important allies. Sure enough, upon their arrival at the city gates that night, the lord of Millacatl greeted them with bowls of cacao and an overly extravagant feast in honor of the coming battle.

  They sacrificed an eagle upon their altar to grant the warriors swiftness and cunning, and Ahkin lost himself in the preparations. This was one area in which he knew he excelled. Weapons were inspected, costumes and wooden armor adjusted. Ahkin sparred with many of the Jaguar warriors under Yaotl and had them on the ground within minutes. The strength flowing within his muscles and the exertion of the exercises focused his mind, and he was ready.

  Come dawn the next day, the death demons of Miquitz would be sent to the gods of the underworld they worshipped. He would make them pay for capturing farmers and peasants from his empire, for taking him away from Mayana, and he would offer their blood as sacrifice to the gods.

  Ahkin brought his macana sword down upon the shield of a sparring Jaguar warrior with such force that the man staggered and fell onto his backside. The obsidian edges of the wooden sword embedded themselves in the shield. Despite Yaotl’s warnings, Mayana filled Ahkin’s thoughts. A righteous anger coursed through him as he thought of losing first his parents and now potentially his bride. The gods were not being fair. Instead of being by her side, making sure she healed, he was here, preparing to fight the pestilential death demons. Again.

  Shame quickly replaced the anger. If he continued to question them, the gods would probably punish him even more. Ahkin placed a foot on the shield and forced it back to pry the blades loose.

  “Yield,” the warrior cried, scrambling back onto his feet.

  From across the courtyard, Yaotl gave an approving nod as he lounged with nobles and the lord of Millacatl. Then he motioned for Ahkin to join them.

  Panting heavily, Ahkin wiped the sweat from his forehead and made his way toward the group.

  “We would like to discuss our strategy for tomorrow,” Yaotl whispered roughly in his ear as Ahkin crouched low on an empty reed mat. A servant offered him a bowl of warmed cacao before he even had time to ask for one.

  The general turned his attention to the nobles gathered. There were twelve naguals from the royal family at Ocelotl, the leader of the Eagle warriors, plus five priests and the lord of Millacatl with his three oldest sons. Ahkin still could not believe the man had ten children, though Teniza currently resided in Tollan. His own parents had constantly lamented that they had only him and Metzi, but as in every other aspect, the gods blessed the lord of Millacatl with abundance. Every head turned to face Ahkin, who stiffened and hastily lifted the bowl to his mouth and motioned with his hand to Yaotl, directing their attention back to him.

  His heart thrummed like a battle drum. He was not yet accustomed to the faces of the leaders he admired looking to him for direction. Every battle-planning meeting Ahkin had ever attended, he lingered in his father’s shadow, watching and observing, but always respectfully silent. He had assumed there would be many more meetings to practice voicing his opinions before leadership was dropped into his hands. Until now, Ahkin had always preferred calculating and mapping in the privacy of his own mind. As eyes turned expectantly toward him, his neck grew warm. Could they all still see the little boy behind his eyes? The one trying desperately to pretend he could live up to his father?

  For the time being, he would rely on the guidance of his general and mentor, and he was grateful for Yaotl’s willingness to fill that role.

  “The raiders are camped at the base of the mountain. Our spies estimate that they number a little over two hundred,” Yaotl rumbled.

  “Why so few?” The lead warrior of the Eagles narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

  “This is not an invading army. They hide in their mountain cities and continue to poke at us like a child pesters a slumbering dog. It is time we awaken and bite.”

  “Do we know their purpose in capturing my people?” The voice of the lord of Millacatl boomed with the authority of a city-state high priest and patriarch used to demanding attention and receiving it. The commanding presence, combined with his towering height, slightly intimidated Ahkin.

  But just as plants lived off of light, Millacatl and Tollan were dependent on each other. Wealth, stature, and power were nothing without a sun
, and Ahkin and his sister alone still owned that respect. Ahkin sat up a little straighter.

  “My prince, would you care to explain?” Yaotl offered.

  Ahkin cleared his throat and willed his voice to remain calm and collected. “We do not yet know why they are targeting your peasants. It is my hope that in capturing some of their warriors, we may question them and gain some answers. It is possible that news of my father’s death has reached them, and they are testing our resolve in the wake of the tragedy.”

  “They likely question the strength of our empire with such a young and inexperienced emperor about to ascend the throne.” The lord of Millacatl snorted in disgust.

  Dismay filled Ahkin’s chest, as though he were an impostor who had finally been discovered. This man saw the little boy Ahkin was trying so desperately to keep hidden. Perhaps the lord of Millacatl assumed that if Ahkin chose his daughter, he would hold a great deal of influence over him. Rebellion flared within him. It was fortunate Mayana had sealed off his heart from the other daughters. He would not grant this man any more power than he already wielded.

  “I will show them on the battlefield just how afraid of me they should be,” Ahkin growled. Behind the lord of Millacatl’s back, the corner of Yaotl’s mouth ticked up.

  The lord waved his hand dismissively, and Ahkin wished he could use his sword to wipe the smug smile off the man’s face.

  “Speaking of battlefields …” The lord looked down his nose at the young prince. “How fares the battlefield of the heart? Have you selected a wife yet?” His voice remained casual, but Ahkin could sense the tension simmering just under the surface.

  “I have.” Ahkin avoided his eyes. “I was unable to announce my decision before the battle and I plan on making my selection official the moment I return.”

  “Excellent.” The lord lifted his bowl in the air for more pulque, though his cheeks were already crimson from the drink. “I am confident the prince will make the best decision for the well-being of the kingdom and not follow a childish impulse of passion one would expect for his age.” He lifted the newly filled bowl in Ahkin’s direction as a salute before bringing the bowl to his lips.

  The rage pulsing through Ahkin’s veins surged, and he leapt to his feet. Did everyone have to remind him how young he was? How inexperienced? The look of surprise on Lord Millacatl’s face so mirrored that of his sons on either side that Ahkin remembered this man was still a father. A father probably afraid that Ahkin had not chosen his daughter. The thought calmed his anger. He knew too well the pain of losing family to the rituals. They were about to go into battle and the last thing they needed was to be fighting amongst themselves.

  “Excuse me, I wish to continue with my practice.” Ahkin turned on the spot and motioned for the Jaguar warrior he had been sparring with previously to follow him. The warrior let out an exhausted huff, eyes darting to Yaotl as though asking to be saved, and shuffled his feet to follow the prince back to the center of the courtyard.

  Chapter

  35

  Mayana had never told anyone about her revelations regarding the codex texts. She expected to feel immensely relieved, as if she were putting down a weight she had been carrying inside her soul for years. But for some reason, when she and Yemania left the temple, a sense of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. Her secret was not something so petty as Coatl and Metzi sharing passionate trysts throughout the palace, but something that truly put her life in danger. Not only did she risk the prince discovering she was not as religious as he thought, but she was in danger of offending the religious leadership.

  As they left the shadowed rooms of the temple, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She lifted her gaze from Yemania’s face to find the high priest of Tollan, a priest of even higher status than her father, watching her from a distant doorway. His rank was evident from the adornments of feathers and beads he wore around his neck and the headdress that dwarfed those of the Tlana priests. She had never seen the high priest before, only heard of him spoken about back home. His wide, wrinkled face contorted into a frown as they passed, and something about the knowing look in his dark, deep-set eyes unnerved her. They had been alone in the rooms with the codex, hadn’t they? There was no way he could know what she and Yemania had discussed.

  Yemania did not notice the high priest as she muttered about wanting to enjoy the palace’s food before she died, and Mayana tore her eyes away from the ancient face.

  “Yes,” Mayana said. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”

  Back in Mayana’s room several hours later, the remnants of flatbread and various fruit cores piled in a wooden bowl in the corner, Mayana stretched out her injured leg. She hissed as the bandages pressed against the throbbing skin and she wished she could smash the scorpion all over again just to feel the satisfying crunch of its shell. The exertion of the climb up the temple had aggravated the swelling, but she didn’t regret their trip at all.

  “You never did tell me what happened. How did you know to come find me?” Mayana remembered the edges of her vision going dark but didn’t remember anyone else being in the room.

  “I heard you,” Yemania said simply. “You screamed for help, so I came.”

  “But you were so angry with me. I had just …” Mayana couldn’t say the words out loud.

  “I don’t hate you because the prince likes you. I understand why he does.” She bumped her shoulder teasingly against Mayana’s. “Well, mostly. Does he know how you feel about the rituals? What you think about the codex?”

  Mayana couldn’t meet her eyes. She busied her fingers with the edge of the bandage around her calf.

  Yemania clucked her tongue. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

  “No.” Mayana jerked her hands away from her leg and pressed her fists into her eyes. “No, he doesn’t know. He thinks I saved the jaguar because I was overly concerned with honoring the calendar.”

  Yemania blanched. “Mayana. You’re … you’re basically lying to him.”

  Mayana brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, dropping her forehead and hiding her face in the little bubble of darkness she created for herself.

  “I like him, Yemania.” Her words sounded muffled as she spoke into her legs.

  “Well, I think we all like him. I mean, he’s handsome, he’s smart, and good gods the man can dance.”

  Mayana gave a weak chuckle. “He hates dancing.”

  Yemania was silent for a moment. “Did he tell you that?”

  Mayana nodded, her face still hidden.

  Yemania heaved a sigh. “I will probably regret asking this, but what happened after the feast that night? Where did you go with him?”

  Images flashed within Mayana’s mind’s eye. Ahkin tipping up her chin and kissing her for the first time, his voice whispering “Don’t ever hide yourself from me.” The feel of his warm body against hers in the cold water. The taste of his lips as she ran her tongue along them. The feel of his hair as she ran her fingers through it.

  The blood rose in her cheeks as she remembered the way she had stopped his hands mere inches from the fabric around her chest, and his groan of frustration. How she had wanted more than anything not to stop him. To let his hands caress the parts of herself she never let anyone else …

  “You’re blushing.” Yemania’s blunt interjection brought her back to the present.

  “Sorry …”

  “Zorrah says you … uh—” Yemania bit her lip.

  “No. We didn’t do that. Gods, Yemania, you think I would do that just to make him pick me?” Mayana swore her cheeks burned even hotter.

  “So, you didn’t?”

  “No!”

  “I didn’t think so. Not really,” Yemania said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “And why would you believe Zorrah anyway? I’m fairly certain a scorpion didn’t get into my room by acc
ident.” Mayana fluffed the pillow beneath her with a little more force than was entirely necessary.

  “Did you kiss him, though?”

  Mayana froze. She couldn’t lie to Yemania, not now. Besides, she had already told her the prince was probably going to pick her. “No. Technically he kissed me.”

  Yemania’s hands flew to her mouth. “How did that happen?”

  “Well … we kissed in the hallway. And again in … one of the bathing pools in the pleasure garden.”

  Yemania sucked in a loud breath.

  “And then we sat in a steam bath for a while and just … talked. We talked for hours, actually.”

  “You love him,” Yemania said. It wasn’t a question.

  Mayana squirmed. “Can you truly love someone you hardly know?”

  “Fine. You are falling in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “I think I might be. It’s hard to tell. It was one night together and then this happened.” She gestured to her swollen calf. “And now he’s off fighting death demons while I sit here and wonder if he’s even going to come back.”

  To her surprise, tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She cared for him, perhaps was falling in love with him, but what did that matter if his godly blood drained itself out on the jungle floor? Or worse, if he were captured and taken to Miquitz as a sacrifice to the gods of the underworld?

  “If you truly care for him, then you have to tell him the truth,” Yemania said. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at Mayana with a deep sadness in her eyes.

  “If I tell him the truth, he won’t … like me anymore. He won’t pick me.” Mayana’s voice trembled with suppressed emotion.