Aiyana stepped closer to Saamal, her eyes still on Tenoch as she spoke. “Saamal, what is he talking about?”
The ghost’s eyebrows shot up. “Saamal, is it?” He peered at Aiyana, floating closer until he hovered only a few feet away. “Oh, what an honor has been bestowed on you, princess. To be permitted to call the Black God, Lord of Near and Nigh, by such a common name. I was not even aware he had a lowly human name.”
Tension spiked, the air around them crackling with the wild energy that only strong emotion and raw power could produce. Saamal fought to keep his expression calm, not wanting to give Tenoch any more material to use against him. Aiyana sucked in a sharp breath and gaped at Saamal. “The Black God… You?”
Saamal inclined his head. “Yes. The ghost speaks the truth. I am the Lord of Near and Nigh, the Jaguar King, the Smoking Mirror. The Black God. Saamal is the name I chose for myself after…” he trailed off, at a loss for an appropriate way to end his sentence without telling Aiyana the whole story he wished to spare her from.
Tenoch snorted. “After you demanded her parents give you her hand in marriage when she was only a babe? After your lover cursed her to die after she reached the age of consent? After you poisoned her with your own blood, twisting her into the same monster you are yourself?”
“What is he talking about?” Aiyana demanded, her voice rising with an edge of panic. “Marriage? Cursed? Your blood?”
The ghost floated closer to Aiyana, putting himself between her and Saamal so that Saamal could only see her through the shifting mist of his ghostly form. “There was a prophecy,” Tenoch purred. “The Black God gazed into his obsidian mirror and saw a babe—you. He learned that to wed you would double his power—a promise such a vain deity as the Lord of Nigh and Near could hardly resist. He determined then and there to claim you, considering no one but himself. Naturally, his lover, the Spring Maiden, was furious that he’d thrown her over for an infant—a mere mortal—and the promise of power. She cursed you, laying a spell over your life that would bring your death on the day you reached marrying age. Of course, the mighty Jaguar King was not one to give up the promise of power so easily. He joined with one of the balam to put another spell on you, to merge with you, sharing his power. You would not die, but merely sleep until a way could be found to wake you. That is why there is darkness in you, princess.” He glared at Saamal. “Because he put it there.”
Aiyana’s features went slack and her eyes grew hazy. She blinked at Saamal. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”
Saamal strode to her side, ignoring the hiss of the ghost as he passed through his body. “Aiyana, I did not mean to mislead you. I thought you would know who I was, I thought your mother and father would have told you. And then things moved so fast, and I didn’t know how to tell you—”
“That’s why you don’t want me to go to the fairy,” Aiyana breathed. “You don’t want me to give away your power.”
“Correct,” the ghost confirmed, a vicious glee in his voice.
“No,” Saamal insisted, clenching his hands into fists. “You don’t understand, if you give away that power—”
The apparition slid to the side, cruelty glinting in his eyes as a smile spread over his face. “Ask him where you are,” he suggested, cutting Saamal off.
Saamal’s heart sank even further as Aiyana stared at him.
“What does he mean, ask you where I am? I’m in my kingdom.” She scanned the forest, peering into the distance as if she could still see the palace. “I’m where I’ve always been.”
“You’re in the Dreamworld based on your kingdom,” the ghost told her. “This is merely your mind’s representation of your kingdom, a compilation of your thoughts and those of your people who share the curse with you. You have been asleep for the past hundred years, and your spirit is trapped in the Dreamworld along with the spirits of those unfortunate enough to have been around you at the time the sun rose on your birthday.”
Anger flared to life in Aiyana’s eyes, momentarily burning away her confusion. Saamal had a moment of pride and satisfaction as she glared at the ghost.
“You’re lying.”
His pride in her passion was quickly shattered as Tenoch turned to him, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“Ask the god.” The ghost smirked.
Saamal stiffened his spine even as his heart threatened to crumble inside him. This was not how he’d wanted to tell her, not how he’d wanted her to find out. He faced Aiyana, his gut twisting at the fear flickering in her eyes, betraying the defiant jut of her chin.
“It’s true, Aiyana. Everything he told you is true. I have been trying to wake you up for over a century, and thus far I have been unsuccessful—unworthy. It wasn’t until tonight that I found someone who could help me contact you, who could finally give me a chance to speak with you. It was my hope that if I could meet you, if I could get to know you, I could find a way to become worthy of you. Maybe then I could—”
“Stop.” Aiyana held up a hand, ignoring the way it trembled as she fixed him with a solid, unwavering stare. “Keep your pretty words, and give me the truth you owe me. “I—”
Before Aiyana could finish her sentence, a blood-curdling scream erupted from the surrounding woods.
Chapter Five
Aiyana’s breath caught in her throat and her body stilled as projectiles whistled past her, passing so close to her face that the fur parted in its wake. The heavy thunks against the trees surrounding her, wood crying out as it was pierced, drove Aiyana to turn. Thick flint blades shaped like feathers were buried in the trees like porcupine quills. They seemed to suck in the light that touched them, thin spikes of darkness stabbing into the trees’ bark and filling the area with the weighted sense of foreboding. Adrenaline spiked in Aiyana’s blood as she thought of what the slivers would have done if they’d hit her. A primal scream tingled in her throat, outrage at the attack, the burgeoning desire to fight. She flexed her claws and bared her teeth as she faced the approaching shadow, crouching low to make herself a smaller target. A thrill ran down her spine, all the emotion of the past hour begging for release. Whatever threat approached her now had caught her at the precisely perfect moment for a fight.
“Achiyalatopa,” Saamal growled, mirroring Aiyana’s stance.
“Who is Achiyalatopa?”
“A celestial bird that guards the Dreamworld.” Saamal’s voice was grim. “If she can kill a human’s spirit in the spiritual realm, she can consume his soul.”
The blood drained from Aiyana’s face in a rush that left her lips tingling from sudden cold. Her heart was suddenly as one of the trees, stabbed with vicious slivers of darkness, drained of light. The excitement of the coming battle wavered, threatened to melt into fear.
“If she hurts me here…I will die?”
Saamal stiffened. “I will not allow it.”
Aiyana dug her fingers into her palms, the prick of her claws against her flesh a reminder that she was not defenseless. “If I die here, will I wake on the physical plane…or will my body there die as well?”
“Aiyana--”
“You will tell me the truth, Saamal!” she hissed, pulling her anger around her like a protective cloak. “I will know what I’m risking, know what threat my enemy poses. Do not treat me like a lamb needing protection from prowling wolves.”
More blood-curdling screams rent the air, the high pitched shriek twisting Aiyana’s nerves into tight, painful knots. She gritted her teeth against the pain, scanning the forest for signs of the beast, her body quivering with restrained energy as she waited for her target to show itself.
“If you die here, you will die on the physical plane.”
Saamal’s answer fell into the air like a dead weight, empty of emotion and all the more emotional for that void. Adrenaline burned like acid inside Aiyana, and for the first time in her life, she decided to give herself over completely to the power inside her. Just once she wanted to feel freedom, to let everything inside her come out,
to not be restricted, imprisoned. In this moment she didn’t care if it was evil, it was hers to command. This enemy threatened her existence, threatened her chance to see her own kingdom, to find out the extent of the lies the Dreamworld had offered her and to discover her people’s reality. She would prove here and now that she was up to this task, and to the task of escaping this dreamlike prison. She would earn her right to rule.
Saamal shifted closer to her, his broad shoulders angling toward her. Aiyana opened her mouth, ready to shout at him if he tried to block her, to protect her with his body. She would not be coddled, not now, not when the gods had so obviously offered her a test. To her surprise, Saamal remained at her side, but in a complementary way, not a protective one. An equal. Her respect for him rose a notch and her determination to defeat this enemy rose with it. She would live through this to find out just how far the Black God’s faith in her went.
“Beware her feathers,” Saamal warned. “If the flint pierces your flesh, it will injure your body on the physical plane as well as your spirit in the Dreamworld.”
Tree branches groaned and snapped. Another piercing scream echoed around them, the high pitch only birds could reach. A hulking shadow preceded the heavy sway of a monstrous body, clawing its way through the forest canopy like a giant searching the weeds for prey. Achiyalatopa was enormous, half the size of one of the towering mahogany trees. Its upper half was that of a huge storm-grey hawk, beady black eyes glistening in the moonlight that pierced the trees. Its lower half was reptilian, the sharp wickedly curved claws of a dragon digging into the forest floor and a serpent’s monstrous scaled tail snaking over the ground. Its feathers filled the air with a rocky grinding sound as it raised its massive wings, preparing for another volley of projectiles.
“Take my hand.”
Aiyana didn’t spare Saamal a glance this time, keeping her eyes on the approaching monster. “Why?”
“Tenoch spoke the truth, I gave half of my power to you to keep you alive. If we join, we can access the full scope of my power. The wind will come to our aid.”
Achiyalatopa let out a blood-curdling screech and Aiyana held her hand out to her side. Saamal took her hand in his warm grasp. A shiver ran down Aiyana’s spine, infusing her with a strange warmth that pooled low in her body. Strength emanated from his grip, the firm clasp of his fingers around her own. She shook off the disorienting feeling as Saamal held both arms out to the bird. Aiyana held her other hand out as well, mirroring Saamal’s stance.
Something clicked between them. Instinct moved within her, coaxed to life by a prod of energy flowing down her arm where Saamal held her hand. A wave of power washed over her, then grew as it rolled, rebounded from her other hand and flowed back to Saamal. Like a flood deep inside her, a fur-ruffling power rose until it towered over them. The energy writhed like a living thing, gusts of wind strong enough to uproot trees swirling around in a ball of pure, destructive potential. It was the most natural thing in the world to feel the wind lifting her hair from her shoulders, the breeze whipping against her skin. Achiyalatopa flicked her wings forward, releasing another volley of deadly feathers. The power growing between Aiyana and Saamal peaked.
A wave of wind like a solid wall flowed from them, bull-rushing the monstrous bird. The rocky feathers hurtling in their direction stuttered in the wind then spun like deadly pinwheels and flew back toward the bird. An ear-piercing scream rent the night air, vibrating the ground beneath them. The bird bent its head to the forest floor, blood dripping from its prickly body to where scales overwhelmed feathers, burgundy liquid flowing through the grooves between its scales, outlining them in bright crimson.
Aiyana didn’t waste the opportunity. Baring her teeth, she dropped Saamal’s hand and leapt at the monster. Claws held out, she landed on its front flank in the meat above the first brush of scales, savage claws burrowing deep into the monster’s flesh. It screamed again and thrashed its head, curved beak the color of tar pivoting in preparation for a strike.
“You will not keep me here,” Aiyana snarled. “I will not die here.”
She gouged her claws into the beast’s body and pulled, trying to tear out chunks of flesh. Blood sprayed into the air as scales flew through the air to slide across the blood-soaked grass. The beak thrust forward and the flesh between Aiyana’s shoulder blades twitched. She threw her body to the side to avoid being skewered, claws still locked in, anchoring her to Achiyalatopa. It screamed again, a cry of agony and fury. A reptilian hissing crawled from its throat as it snapped its beak, readying for another attack.
Before Aiyana could throw herself out of the way again, Achiyalatopa’s body rocked violently to the side, causing the creature to stumble off balance. Aiyana dug her claws even deeper to keep her grip. She peered around the bird’s body and noticed that Saamal had followed her lead, had landed in half-jaguar form on the bird’s opposite flank. Together they crawled to where the being’s wings met its body, digging their claws in and gouging the flesh until the massive wings drooped uselessly at the bird’s sides, muscles and tendons too damaged for it to raise its feathered limbs. Achiyalatopa shrieked in rage, blood flying from its body in heated drops as it thrashed around in helpless fury.
“Without its wings, it is no threat to us,” Saamal shouted.
Aiyana nodded, her head spinning with the euphoria of battle. She crouched on the creature’s body and launched herself out with one powerful thrust of her legs, landing on her feet several meters away. Saamal landed next to her in a blur of fur and claws, the scent of blood moving with him like cologne.
A laugh trickled out of Aiyana’s throat as she crouched there, breathing heavily, her system still thick with adrenaline. Saamal grinned at her, a flash of sharp white teeth, and inclined his head in the direction of the shadows of the forest away from the bird. She offered him her own predatory smile, and together they took off.
They ran like the river rushing through its bed as it surged around mountains and down deep slopes, flowing in a thunderous cacophony of power. The trees leaned out of their way, bowing to them, roots dipping so as not to trip them. Joy rose and filled Aiyana’s heart. She was outside, running, free. She was alive.
They were both laughing by the time they stopped, the wild laughter that came from exhilaration instead of humor. Sometime during their run, they had each shed the fur of their jaguar form. For a moment, Aiyana just looked at Saamal. It seemed like a weight had been lifted from his back, giving her the first real glimpse of the man who claimed to be the Black God. Saamal’s sable hair shone in the moonlight streaming through the leaves, and the lines around his eyes were crinkled with his laughter. His dark eyes glinted like polished obsidian and the muscles on his arms stood out in shadows where his arm was raised, resting on the rough bark of a tree.
“Such a fierce queen you will be.” A smile still teased his lips, his voice betraying no breathlessness from their mad dash. “You are everything I never dared to dream you would be.”
Aiyana was startled as she realized that she was not out of breath either. “I feel more alive tonight then I have for as long as I can remember. Even though I’ve always been afraid of what the power inside me wanted to do, part of me has always wanted to get away from the palace, from my guards. I wanted to let it go, just once.”
“The power inside you is no more dangerous than a spear,” Saamal told her.
He stepped closer, taking her hands in his, raising them to hold them against his chest. The warmth of his body permeated his torn tunic, and his heartbeat pulsed gently against her hands where he held them to his muscled chest. Aiyana stared at their hands clasped together, joined. The connection between them thrummed and she slowly raised her eyes to meet his, entranced by his nearness and a burgeoning sense of belonging…
“A spear in the hands of a madman can bring about suffering and destruction, but in the hands of a true king—or queen—a spear means protection for a kingdom’s people and the ability to provide for them.”
“It can also mean having one’s heart carved from one’s chest while being held down on the altar to a god you don’t believe in.”
Aiyana pulled away from Saamal as the ghost’s voice thrust between them like a physical wall. The ghost floated in the air beside them, as if he’d materialized there from thin air. Aiyana swore she could hear the clink of his golden chainmail shifting as he moved, see the feathers of his headdress sway in the wind. Her eyes fell to the thick mess of scars on his chest. Unease rolled through her stomach as she was reminded of the conversation they’d been having before the monster had interrupted. The pain that flashed across Saamal’s face as she turned away from him to face the ghost brought an ache to Aiyana’s heart. She shoved the feeling away and faced the ghost.
“You called yourself the ‘unwilling sacrifice.’” Aiyana offered Tenoch what she hoped was an encouraging nod despite the sour feeling in her stomach.
“Yes.” Tenoch’s expression darkened, his eyes on a point in the distance. “I was a captive, claimed as a spoil of war.” He blinked and glared daggers at Saamal. “One of many wars that the Black God believed were so necessary for keeping his people strong.” He brought his attention back to Aiyana, his face still twisted with anger, but with no malice aimed at her. “My new ‘master’ offered me up as a candidate to be the ixiptla.”
Beautiful Salvation Page 9
