The Jade Bones

by Lani Forbes

  Mayana flinched and turned back toward the stairwell. The doorway was sealed in stone. The Nemontemi was over. They had failed.

  Ahkin’s huddled form began to shake. He beat against the ground with his fists. He was furious, but Mayana knew that fury was only masking his fear. Perhaps she should feel more afraid, but she couldn’t find anything to feel. She was numb. Numb with disbelief that their journey had brought them here.

  “We did the best we could,” she offered. Her voice sounded flat in her own ears. Cold, emotionless. But it did nothing to help.

  “I promised to get you out. It can’t end like this,” he yelled, beating against the stone.

  “It does not have to, prince of light,” came the melancholy voice of Ixtab.

  The Lady of Death stood before them, her hands folded neatly in front of her long skirt. A wicked smile pulled at her black lips.

  Mayana’s gaze connected with the goddess’s. “What do you mean? Is there another way out?”

  Ixtab gently caressed the black rope around her neck. “Of a sort.” She seemed to be enjoying this far more than she should. A sour taste coated Mayana’s tongue.

  She stepped aside, giving Mayana full view of the black obsidian altar that rested in the center of the chamber. Upon it sat a stone bowl and a single obsidian blade. Mayana studied the glyphs carved into its sides, the glyphs depicting gruesome forms of human sacrifice.

  A sickened feeling swirled in her gut.

  Ixtab slowly walked to stand beside the altar. She ran an elegant hand across its surface, gazing lovingly at the tools. “For most, the way to enter Xibalba is death. But it is also the way to leave. The Nemontemi destabilizes the layers of creation, but so does releasing the power housed in one’s lifeblood. So yes, escape is still possible . . . but not for one of you.”

  Realization washed over her. Of course. One of them would have to die to allow the other to escape.

  Ahkin rose off the floor and back into a seated position. His eyes met Mayana’s, and the intensity swirling within them told her everything. He was already planning to give his life for hers.

  “No, Ahkin. No. I know what you’re thinking and—”

  “The Mother goddess warned me this might happen in a dream. In a way, I’ve been preparing for it all along. We both don’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

  “I’m not leaving here without you.” She glanced down and rested a hand on Ona’s still-panting side. “Either of you.”

  Ahkin rose to his feet. “I made the mistake of sacrificing myself, and—”

  “And so you’re going to do it again?” Mayana stood. “Ahkin, think about it. If you don’t return, who will become emperor? Metzi cannot rule, she killed your father! She tricked you! And she is the only sun child left. The empire needs you. It can survive without me.”

  Ahkin’s eyes went wide with horror, ghosts of memories she couldn’t see torturing his mind. Perhaps he was picturing her form hanging from the post in the desert. She couldn’t shake the image of his dead body from her mind. “I’m not saying I want to die. I just can’t . . . let you die, either. We can find another way. There has to be another way.” He shook his head as if to dispel the memories plaguing him.

  He took a step toward the altar, and Mayana stepped in front of him. “This isn’t about me and you anymore, Ahkin. You are the emperor. Your people need you. There’s no other way to open the doors.” Her calmness surprised her. Here she was, convincing the boy she loved to let her die in his place.

  “Give me time to figure out another option.” He reached around her for the dagger.

  Mayana’s hand snapped out to grab his wrist. She narrowed her eyes at him. “We don’t have time.”

  Ixtab’s smile widened, a shark sensing blood in the water.

  Ahkin’s own eyes narrowed, and he made to reach for the blade again. Mayana tugged his wrist away.

  “Mayana, please. Don’t make me—”

  “What? What would you do?”

  Ahkin roared in frustration. “I will not let you kill yourself for me. I already watched my mother die for my father, and I won’t let you do the same!”

  Tears began to burn behind her eyes. She had been afraid it might come to this. “I’m not making this decision for you. I’m making this decision for us. For the empire.” This time, she reached for the blade, and Ahkin’s hand captured hers.

  Mayana had not come this far to let her empire fall into the hands of a manipulative power freak like Metzi. One of them still had to return the bones of Quetzalcoatl to the Mother. Her hands flew out and pushed against Ahkin’s chest, knocking him back. Perhaps he could strategize against his enemies, fight battles against flesh, but this was different. This was not a battlefield. They were playing by the rules of the gods now, not the rules of men.

  She reached for the dagger, but a flash of light blinded her. She yelped and covered her eyes. When she opened them again, Ahkin was facing her, bloody palm outstretched. “Not yet! Let me figure this out.”

  Mayana withdrew her own blade. “There’s nothing to figure out. This is the only way.”

  Quick as a flash, she sliced into her own palm and released a jet of water from her necklace. The water knocked the blade from Ahkin’s hand, sending it skidding across the stone floor.

  He dove for it, but Mayana was done arguing. If he couldn’t do what was best for their empire, then she would have to do it for him. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she willed a wall of water between him and the knife.

  Ahkin screamed in frustration and pushed against it, clawing at the water as though he could force his way through. But she held it firm, rushing it back into place where his hands scooped it away. Finally, his arms flopped to his sides as he gave up, obviously deciding to try another tactic. He faced her, chest heaving and his eyes wild. Mayana let the water crash to the floor and cover his feet.

  He reached toward her. “Mayana.” His voice trembled as he read the determination on her face. He took a step forward. “Don’t—”

  It broke her heart to do what she did next, but he left her no choice. He might be physically stronger than she was, but her magic was stronger. Light couldn’t hold someone back the way water could . . .

  “I love you, Ahkin. Please tell my family how much I love them too.”

  “Mayana! Stop! Please, wait—”

  But she unleashed even more water from her pendant, the pendant her ancestor had used to save the world. Now, it was her turn to save it. She would make sure they had an emperor to raise the sun. Ahkin ran toward her, but she forced the water around him, engulfing him as he thrashed and fought against it. His arms punched and pulled at the water, but she made sure it held him firm.

  “nooooo!” he screamed. “mayana! noooo!”

  It was too late. Mayana knew what came next. She lay back on the black stone altar and lifted her knife above her chest. How ironic she would never raise a blade to hurt an animal, and yet she could raise one on herself so easily. She turned her head for one last glimpse of Ahkin, to make sure his face would be one of the last things she saw.

  Her grip tightened and she took a deep breath.

  Ahkin screamed, and Mayana drove the dagger toward her heart.

  A blur of black flashed in the corner of her vision. Just as the blade came down, a warm body leapt between her arms. The blade sank into flesh that was not her own. There was a howl, and hot, burning blood flowed over her arms and chest. Mayana leaned her head back to see what had jumped between her and the knife. A sob ripped out of her, and then a scream.

  It was Ona.

  The dog had jumped into her arms to take the blade instead.

  Mayana scrambled to sit up, just as the water holding Ahkin collapsed around him. She ripped the blade back out, but it was too late, the light was already fading from the dog’s eyes. Just as it had when he was sacrificed by
her father. When he’d forced her to watch.

  But this time, his blood coated her hands.

  “Ona! No!” She sobbed, hugging him to her chest as she rocked. His body finally went limp, and a renewed wave of grief washed over her. Ona had loved her so much. Truly the greatest love was the willingness to lay down one’s life for another.

  Ahkin’s arm came around her as he embraced them both, kissing the top of her head fiercely, his tears falling into her hair. He laid a hand against Ona’s face and closed his eyes.

  “One of you will not survive. Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

  Blood flowed from the edges of the altar into carved grooves around its base. The room began to shake once more, the black columns vibrating as though the volcanoes around them were erupting. The crunching of shifting rock sounded from the stairway.

  “The price has been paid. If you wish to leave, you must do so now,” Ixtab said.

  Chapter

  47

  Ahkin didn’t want to be insensitive. But he also didn’t want them to die. “Mayana, come on, we have to go.”

  She ignored him and continued to cradle the body of her beloved Ona.

  “The passage will not be open for long,” Ixtab warned, her tone mournful. She seemed disappointed that both Mayana and Ahkin had survived her little game.

  “Mayana!” Ahkin’s voice turned sharp. “Do not waste his sacrifice! We have to go now!”

  Mayana pressed one last kiss against Ona’s muzzle and rose to her feet.

  The walls around them began to shake wildly. Was the passageway starting to close again already? There was no way Ahkin was wasting this second chance they had at life. With his good hand, he yanked her toward the stairway.

  “Can you run?” he yelled. It was hard to hear over the rumbling of the mountain around them. If the passageway between the layers collapsed with them inside it, they wouldn’t just be trapped in Xibalba, they would be crushed. Ahkin already knew what it felt like to have his hand crushed, and he wasn’t looking forward to experiencing that with his entire body.

  “Yes,” Mayana sobbed. She gave one last wistful look at the altar and wrenched her gaze away. “We can’t let his sacrifice be for nothing.”

  They reached the doorway to the stairs, and Ahkin turned back for the briefest moment. Ixtab stood still, her hands again folded in front of her skirt, but the translucent form of a spectral dog now sat beside her. Its tail wagged as it watched Mayana with expectant eyes, as though to say, I’ll wait for you to come home.

  Ahkin’s heart nearly cracked in two. They would see Ona again, someday. He knew it deep inside his bones.

  And then they ran. Harder than Ahkin had ever run in his life. One hundred steps. Two hundred. Ahkin stopped counting as the muscles in his legs raged in protest. The stairs beneath them began to shift and roll, as if they were running up the back of a large snake. Mayana fell, and Ahkin lifted her to her feet. She clutched at the wound on her shoulder from the owl’s claws.

  Ahkin threw her arm over his shoulders and half carried her. Up ahead, a glimmer of light reflected off the smooth dark stone. They would escape. Together.

  “We’re almost there! Keep going.”

  Mayana’s nearly bloodless face was soaked with tears. He could not imagine the pain she was in, having just lost her mother and dog all over again. The fact that she even tried to continue was a testament to her strength. They had supported each other so much through this journey. He knew they never would have made it without each other. Blood pounded like drums inside his ears.

  The light ahead grew brighter and brighter, blinding him with its brilliance and purity. Mayana pushed herself with a renewed strength, rocks tumbling down around them. More pounding in his ears, like the increasing tempo of a worship dance. They had to make it. They’d come too far not to . . .

  Ahkin threw himself the final few feet as the cavern collapsed entirely behind them. He and Mayana sprawled across the dirt, gasping for breath. Cool, clean air whipped across his face. But the pounding drum in his head did not stop.

  Ahkin opened his eyes, blinking against the brilliant orange sky. Above him clouds swirled, but not the same dark clouds that had suffocated them the entire journey through Xibalba. These clouds were thinner, lighter, stained with the colors of sunrise. The Seventh Sun appeared over a distant mountain range.

  They had made it back to the overworld.

  Ahkin rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself into a sitting position, too exhausted to stand up. He lifted his good hand to his aching head. Why wouldn’t his ears stop pounding?

  He looked up, and as he did, the pounding suddenly stopped.

  Mayana gasped beside him—as did hundreds of faces that surrounded them, an audience sitting in the stands of some kind of amphitheater.

  The pounding in his ears hadn’t been from blood. The pounding had sounded like drums because it was drums—drums that had stopped at their sudden appearance out of the cave and onto the floor of the amphitheater.

  Mayana scuttled toward him like a crab, leaning into him and clutching at her bleeding shoulder. Her eyes were wide with terror, her chest heaving with heavy breaths.

  And he didn’t blame her.

  Ahead of them, on a raised platform in the middle of the stone amphitheater, stood a figure Ahkin had seen only once before in his life. But it was a figure he would never forget. The painted, skull-like face of Tzom, the head priest of Miquitz, was standing before them with his arms spread wide. He was dressed in elegant black robes with a matching headpiece adorned with toucan feathers. The bones of his necklace rattled against his chest. But as soon as he saw them, his face fell, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, as if Mayana and Ahkin were not the ones he was expecting to see. Beside the platform was a group of about twenty people on their knees, hands tied and gags stuffed into their mouths. Sacrifice victims.

  Ahkin let his gaze wander to the mountain peaks surrounding them, stone shrouded in mist. A terrible realization crashed into him, and he pulled Mayana closer.

  They had escaped the underworld . . . and emerged right in the middle of a Miquitz Death Day ceremony.

  The death priest stepped closer. The surprise on his face hardened into something more like triumph.

  “My dear prince of light.” Tzom smiled like a skull. “Welcome to Omitl. I must admit we were not expecting you, but your timing could not be more divine. We are about to partake in one of our most sacred ceremonies.”

  He motioned around the amphitheater. Hundreds of faces blurred against the backdrop of their black attire splashed in vividly colored decorations and adornments. Terror slowly crept its way up Ahkin’s spine. His heart thrashed inside his chest.

  “After you threw yourself into Xibalba, my plans shifted to your sister, but the goddess has blessed the mission she entrusted to me. What fortune. She has brought you to me after all!”

  Ahkin’s memory flashed back to the battlefield outside Millacatl. The battle where he had failed to save the kidnapped peasants—the same peasants who now appeared to be tied before him. He remembered how determined Tzom had been to find him, to “speak” with him. The death priest had told his soldiers that his purpose was to save the sun . . . but the sun had not really been dying. So what had his true motive been? He obviously wanted Ahkin for another reason.

  “What do you want with me?” Ahkin’s voice scratched against his raw throat.

  Tzom ignored him and motioned to the contingent of guards beside him. “Secure our guests. I want to make sure they don’t miss this momentous occasion.”

  Ahkin jumped to his feet, his hand already on his knife. But his muscles screamed in protest, the breath coming into his lungs in sharp bursts. He cursed the exhaustion leaching away his strength. A blow to the back of his knees sent him flying to the ground, and the guards plucked Mayana away from him as easily as
a doll ripped out of the hands of a child. One of them pressed a bone-white blade against the fragile skin of her throat. His gaze flew to her face, and her dark eyes were clouded over with the mist of possession.

  “Leave her alone!” Ahkin roared, lurching back to his feet.

  Tzom leered at him with a sinister smile. “Unless you want your companion’s blood needlessly spilled, I recommend you drop your weapon.”

  Ahkin’s chest heaved, but a drop of blood dewed beneath the blade pressed against Mayana’s throat. Her clouded eyes remained distant and unfocused. Ahkin lifted his hands in surrender and the blade dropped into the sand.

  Something like madness glittered within Tzom’s eyes. “Wonderful! You see, I need your blood, son of the sun. My goddess has promised me that it is the only way to save my people. I will help her bring about the darkness that will allow them to descend! They will feast on the flesh of sun worshippers—and in return for my service, spare the Miquitz!”

  “What are you talking about?” Terror rose inside Ahkin’s chest. “Who will descend?”

  Tzom smiled a savage smile. “The Tzitzimime! The star demons! The followers of the great Obsidian Butterfly! She will rule the new earth and spare us as her loyal servants. They can descend only during an eclipse, and now that I have the blood of one who controls the sun, I can ensure the eclipse will never end!” He paused, as though expecting Ahkin to celebrate with him. “You will be my guest of honor, son of Huitzilopochtli, as we usher in the age of the Eighth Sun!”

  A Note From the Author

  Although this world is a fantasy and not based on any one historical group, it was heavily inspired and influenced by diverse Mesoamerican mythologies and traditions, many of which do share some similarities. I take my research very seriously, but I also do take some artistic license for the sake of the story.

  Xibalba is the underworld in Maya mythology and the name literally translates to the “place of fear.” There are different versions of the mythology, but I tried to incorporate various aspects mentioned in the Popol Vuh into the fantasy version that Mayana and Ahkin must transverse. One consistency across many underworld mythologies is the presence of various trials and obstacles to overcome. The number nine is also very symbolic. Because there are nine months of gestation to enter the world, many cultures embraced the idea of nine levels of the underworld. It is also thought to be why many burial temples have nine levels, such as Temple I in Tikal, Guatemala. The various trials often include a crossroads of paths meant to confuse travelers and rivers of blood, scorpions, and pus. You will recognize many of those elements incorporated into the story. One example of a change I made was to change the third river of pus into a swamp because I wasn’t sure I could stomach making them swim through a river of pus (sorry, not sorry? Haha!).