The Seventh Sun

by Lani Forbes

  “Maybe not.” Yemania shrugged. “But he will find out eventually. That is not a secret you will be able to hide forever. Not unless you can accept the rituals as they are and decide you can do the sacrifices. Including the sacrifice of the rest of us.”

  “I cannot watch you die,” Mayana said through gritted teeth. “I won’t. Not for rules created by men.”

  “Then we will likely die together anyway.” Yemania turned her face toward the open veranda, where sunlight poured in through the vines covering the opening.

  “Does the light seem … off to you?” Yemania asked suddenly, her mouth falling into a frown.

  “What light?” Mayana turned her head to face the entrance to the garden.

  “The light of the sun.”

  Mayana studied the beams piercing through the room. She pushed herself back onto her feet, wincing as she put her weight on her bad calf, and hobbled toward the vines. The sun was definitely far too low for the time of day, and in the fading yellow band of sky along the horizon, the bleeding comet seemed to shine a little brighter.

  Chapter

  36

  A conch-shell horn broke the silence of the early morning. The warriors of Tollan slithered out of the trees like spirits of the night just as the sun’s face broke above the distant horizon. Ahkin said a silent prayer of thanks to his sister for her blood sacrifice back in the capital.

  Every sense in his body awakened and came alive as he prepared himself. The world around him came into sharper focus, just as it did before every battle. Colors seemed brighter, sounds louder, smells stronger. His muscles twitched as anticipation raced through his veins; he was anxious for the battle to begin so that he could free the peasants and return to Mayana as soon as possible. He may not be a great emperor—his faith was not as strong as it should be—but at least he knew his place on a battlefield.

  Across the tall grass field shimmering with a fine layer of mist, the Miquitz raiders’ camp stirred to life in response to the call of the horn.

  From this distance he could not see where the captives were being kept, but he knew they were still alive. The Miquitz would wait to sacrifice them in their temple.

  Ahkin lifted his arm high in the sky.

  “Bows! Wait until they are making their way across the field. We do not wish to attack the camp directly and risk Lord Millacatl’s peasants.”

  The group of men armed with bows and slings readied themselves but held their weapons. Ahkin narrowed his eyes as the enemy raiders gathered along the edge of the field. They wore inky-black warrior costumes accentuated with random splashes of bright color, but Ahkin shivered at the defining characteristic of the Miquitz warriors. Human finger bones rattled from their shields and their quivers were filled not with arrows, but with sharpened bones from enemy arms and legs. Painted across their black clothing were the forms of skeletons. He could not see their faces because they were whitened to resemble skulls or covered with actual fragments of skulls.

  Their silence as they assembled brought to mind an army of the dead rising up from the depths of Xibalba itself. Ahkin couldn’t wait to send them where they belonged.

  As he studied them, something did not seem right. There were barely a hundred. Hadn’t Yaotl estimated there were twice as many? Where were the rest of the demon raiders? Had they already disappeared into the mountains with their captives?

  The Miquitz suddenly let out an almighty scream, raising the hair on Ahkin’s arms and causing the shoulders of the warriors beside him to shift uncomfortably. A few nervously glanced at their neighbors, but they held their positions. A burning surge of pride raced through him, and he turned back to face the skeleton warriors.

  The death demons charged like wild spirits escaping the underworld.

  “Now!” The scream ripped through Ahkin’s throat as he slashed his arm downward.

  Arrows and spears fired a rain of wood and obsidian upon the coming enemy. Many fell, but many more continued their charge through the tall grasses.

  Ahkin lifted and then lowered his arm again, signaling a second volley of projectiles across the misty distance and sending even more skeleton warriors to the ground, hopefully to Xibalba.

  Yaotl signaled the drummers, who beat a frenzied rhythm not unlike the music he and Mayana first shared a dance to. His heart had hurtled into his rib cage on that occasion too, though for entirely different reasons. Ahkin suppressed a smile and reached a hand down toward his macana sword. Tied to its handle was a small doll the size of his thumb wearing a tiny blue-and-yellow dress. He squeezed the soft body in his hand as the warriors beside him released their own battle cries. He said a silent prayer to Ometeotl to protect him so that he could see Mayana again.

  The readiness for battle raced through his blood and his muscles ached to move, but he had to wait. Yaotl never let him join the first wave of Jaguar and Eagle warriors. As talented a warrior as he might be, his blood was still more valuable than any of the others around him.

  The conch-shell horn cried out through the chaos for a second time, and the warriors beside him surged forward. The thundering of feet reminded Ahkin of the powerful booming clouds of a fierce storm. The vibrations rattled his bones.

  The hulking forms of jaguars and wolves controlled by their nagual masters sprinted out to meet the Miquitz first, and several demons fell under the flash of teeth and claws. Growls and roars of beasts now blended with the booms of the war drums and the yells of warriors.

  The smell of bodies and blood filled Ahkin’s nose and he leaned forward, anxious to join his fellows in the melee, to show his people that while their emperor may be young, he was fierce. He would make them proud to follow him.

  The horn sounded a third time as the Chicome gained the advantage over the Miquitz. The numbers were obviously making a difference. Ahkin released his own ear-splitting cry and launched himself forward.

  A mass of bodies writhed in front of him, black skeletons grappling with the brightly adorned Eagles and Jaguars. He caught a glimpse of massive Yaotl knocking down two warriors with a single sweep of his arm before he turned and landed his giant foot on another’s chest. Ahkin smiled at the sickening crunch of ribs as he sprinted toward them.

  Before he reached the melee, Ahkin ran a finger across his own blade, exposing his blood to the crisp morning air.

  Where Yaotl had mass and girth as his greatest weapons, Ahkin’s skill lay in his speed and agility … and his godly abilities. His father had taught him the human eye only saw what it did because of light, and by manipulating that light, Ahkin could control what people saw. By bending light, he could even make something disappear altogether. He bent the light around himself, willing it not to strike him.

  In his enemies’ eyes, he was no longer there.

  Ahkin tightened his hand around the leather handle of his macana sword, savoring the soft yet sturdy grip. Bringing it high above his head, he leapt like a monkey from a branch and brought his sword down into the back of a warrior that had been charging toward Yaotl.

  “You finally made it, my lord. It’s good to see you … or not see you, I should say.” Yaotl turned to see the Miquitz warrior fall without obvious explanation.

  “You could at least smile, Yaotl. That was a relatively good joke,” Ahkin teased.

  Yaotl grunted and smashed his fist into another face.

  Ahkin whirled on the spot and worked his way through the remaining warriors. His feet squelched in the red-tinged mud of the field as he brought down blow after blow. Sometimes he allowed himself to appear for a moment before bending the light again, confusing the death demons and increasing the sense of fear as they realized he could be anywhere. Soon, a trail of bodies littered the ground in his wake.

  He released the light and showed himself to a particularly vicious-­looking raider who had an Eagle warrior on his knees by the topknot of his hair, a blade of obsidian mere in
ches from his throat. His sudden appearance distracted the death demon, whose eyes went wide beneath his partial skull mask.

  He dropped the Eagle warrior, backing slowly away. “The prince! The prince is here!”

  Instead of engaging him as Ahkin expected, the man ran at a full sprint back toward his camp continuing to scream, “The prince!”

  A tingle of unease fluttered through his stomach along with confusion at the warrior’s odd behavior. He let it shake him for only the length of a heartbeat before he bent down to help the Eagle warrior back to his feet.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Ahkin grunted in response, shoving the man back toward the battle.

  Something barreled into him from behind, knocking the wind from his lungs and slamming him to the ground with a force that brought stars of light sparking across Ahkin’s eyes. The warm, sticky body of a giant wolf lay prostrate across his stomach, arrows of bone protruding from the dark fur on its back.

  Ahkin couldn’t breathe beneath its weight and he shoved at the body of the beast with every ounce of strength he possessed, one hand still firmly gripping the handle of his macana sword.

  A shadowy figure appeared above him, a bone-white spear in his hand. The spear lifted into the air and Ahkin lifted his sword to block the blow, the tiny bloodstained doll bouncing against his curled fist.

  The warrior’s eyes, a black band of paint across them, widened in surprise and focused on the small doll tied to the handle. His head cocked ever so slightly to the side, making a tiny bone earring rest against his cheek as he studied the doll that had no place on the battlefield. In that moment of hesitation, a spear burst through the man’s bare chest, splattering blood across the carcass of the wolf and Ahkin’s face.

  Chapter

  37

  “You know, you could have hidden yourself,” Yaotl growled, shifting the dead wolf off of Ahkin’s legs and helping him wriggle out from beneath it.

  “How, exactly? Even if I had bent the light around me, he already knew where I was.”

  “So, you were going to just lie there?” Yaotl thundered.

  “I was going to defend myself.” Ahkin raised his own voice in return, lifting his macana for emphasis.

  Yaotl’s eyes focused on the bloodied worry doll and he let out of bellow of frustration. “Get the girl out of your head!”

  Ahkin took a step back, his eyes narrowed. “It just saved my life,” he said defensively. “It distracted him.”

  Before Yaotl could respond, a fourth horn blast demanded their attention.

  “That’s … not ours, is it?” Ahkin studied the concern evident on his general’s face and took it as confirmation.

  At the sound of the horn, every death demon left fighting turned away from the battle and sprinted full force back toward the mountains like a pack of black deer.

  “What …?” Confusion clouded every thought running through Ahkin’s head as the enemy retreated.

  “Get behind me, and bend the damn light so no one can see you.”

  “Why?”

  “My lord, something’s not right.” Did he sense a hint of fear? Ahkin had never heard anything like it in his mentor’s deep voice.

  He immediately stepped behind Yaotl’s mountainous form and concealed himself between the beams of morning sunlight now bathing the field.

  Every warrior that was left of the Chicome stood transfixed and staring as a single dark-cloaked figure emerged from a tent at the Miquitz camp. The figure’s head was entirely smooth, bearing not a single strand of hair, and the skin was painted ghostly white. He slowly glided forward. The black paint around the man’s eyes covered the entire socket, making his face resemble a skull with burning dark eyes. His smile was accentuated with even more dark paint, making it seem twice as wide as a normal human mouth.

  Ahkin’s heart thrashed within his chest, something urging him to run as far from the battlefield as possible.

  The figure swept his arms wide, revealing a bare chest and a necklace of bone beads and shining black raven feathers.

  “Prince of light,” the skeleton man called in a high, clear voice. “I know you are here.”

  Yaotl muttered a string of curses under his breath.

  Several warriors around Ahkin took involuntary steps back, their gazes darting back to the trees behind them. Ahkin didn’t blame them; he was half considering bolting for the trees himself.

  “There is no use in hiding behind your general, dear prince. I feel your life force, even if my eyes cannot detect you.”

  Yaotl’s muttered curses turned full volume as he took a step to further shield Ahkin from this ominous new arrival. He called out in his deep voice, “I do not know what you want with the prince, but I know your people rely on the sun as much as we do. You play a dangerous game, skull man.”

  The unusually wide smile of the man just spread even wider. Nausea rolled through Ahkin’s stomach.

  “I merely wish to speak with him.” His voice was eerily calculating and calm, almost amused.

  “No.” Yaotl’s yell carried through the tense silence.

  “What do you want with me?” Ahkin stepped out from behind his mentor and allowed the light to fall upon him once more.

  The warriors around him gasped and moved in closer, trying to form a human shield between Ahkin and the skull demon.

  “My dear prince Ahkin, it is a pleasure to see you at last.” He flourished his hand into an exaggerated bow.

  “Who are you?” Ahkin demanded.

  “I am Tzom, high priest of Miquitz and speaker for the gods of the underworld.”

  Ahkin stiffened his spine. He had heard rumors of the priests of Miquitz … of what they could do. They were capable of possessing the spirits of the living to control them and allowing the spirits of the dead to possess their own bodies. They dealt in the magic of the soul, a power long-­forbidden and long-feared by the Chicome.

  Almost as if in response to his thoughts, the light faded from Yaotl’s eyes. His mouth and features went slack, and before Ahkin could respond, Yaotl’s thick arms wrapped around him and held him in place like a parent restraining a screaming child.

  Ahkin strained against his mentor’s hold, but he was no match for Yaotl’s strength. His remaining Eagle and Jaguar warriors rushed forward, spears and macana swords drawn, but clearly torn as to how to proceed. Were they supposed to attack Yaotl?

  “Stop!” Ahkin commanded them. “I will not have his blood on our own hands.”

  “Oh, relax, my dear prince.” Tzom chuckled softly. Bloodlust raged within Ahkin’s veins and he longed to shred the white skin off of the high priest’s face for possessing Yaotl and using him like this.

  “I have no desire to hurt your men any further. I will even …”

  But Tzom’s words were cut short as vines shot through the ground at his feet and snaked themselves around his arms and legs.

  His wide, eerie smile turned to a grimace as the skull man clawed at the plants attempting to restrain him.

  The arms around Ahkin slackened, and Yaotl shook his head like a wet dog.

  Without hesitation, the general scooped Ahkin up into his arms again, shielding him from the view of the death demon, and whistled through his teeth. Feet thundered against the ground as they ran for the cover of the jungle trees, leaving the frustrated shrieks of the high priest of Miquitz behind them still wrestling the vines pulling at his limbs.

  As soon as they reached the cover of the trees, Ahkin caught sight of the lord of Millacatl, a bleeding palm outstretched toward Tzom.

  “I can restrain him for a little while longer,” the lord of Millacatl said through gritted teeth. “Fall back to the city and station the naguals at our borders. I think the demons will retreat back to the mountains for now.”

  Ahkin threw Yaotl’s arms off him and faced the lord of Mill
acatl. “Did we save the peasants, at least?”

  “No, my lord,” the lord of Millacatl said with an edge to his voice. “Half of the demons escaped with them into the mountains and we accomplished nothing except spilling our own blood on the jungle floor.”

  With a strained breath, sweat beading on his brow, the lord dropped his hand and the vines in the distance retreated back into the earth.

  Ahkin’s heart flipped as he realized Tzom was gone, along with the other death demons and the peasants Ahkin had failed to save. The lord of Millacatl turned his back on them and stormed back toward the city.

  Yaotl placed a hand on Ahkin’s shoulder, which he shrugged off rather roughly.

  “You did all you could, my lord.”

  “Did I, Yaotl? Because as far as I can tell, we accomplished nothing.” Ahkin threw his macana sword at the ground with enough force to split a man in two. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Another failure. Another example of his youthful inexperience and weakness. Was there anything he could do right as an emperor?

  “Not so, my prince.”

  Ahkin looked up at Yaotl’s words, trying not to let himself hope.

  Yaotl jerked his head toward the empty battlefield. “We captured three of the death demons to take home for our trouble.”

  Ahkin rubbed the back of his neck. At least they had that. And at least now he could return home to Mayana.

  Part 3

  Chapter

  38

  Mayana paced the length of her room three times before throwing her hands in the air with a great sigh of frustration.

  He had to be home soon. Metzi had announced at breakfast that a raven had arrived from Millacatl with a message declaring the warriors would return by evening.

  She hadn’t said Ahkin was among them, but surely if he wasn’t, she wouldn’t look so relieved.

  The sun was already setting, again far too early for this time of year, but that meant they should be home soon. They could even be home already. Would he come to see her? Should she try to go see him?