Blood & Fur

Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Day the Heavens Wept

Every seat had its importance at an emperor’s table.

I began the second day of what would soon become the bloodiest Flower War in decades with a hearty breakfast in my consorts’ company. Lady Zyanya had been invited to attend, without her husband. Inviting her to eat in the company of my female companions was tantamount to recognizing her as my mistress in the empire’s eyes, and thus informed the realm that she had my ear. This would remind Tlaxcala that his political standing was tied to his wife, and grant her an immense amount of influence.

Favorites and concubines couldn't be allowed to sit as equal to my divinely ordered consorts during wartime, however, so Lady Zyanya and Necahual were instead given seats a step behind mine on each side; close enough to whisper in my ears, but forcing them to eat from their own bowls of food rather than at the table. I placed Necahual between Chindi and I so she could talk with the former as she wished to, while Zyanya was put near Ingrid so she would overhear everything we discussed.

The goal was to have Zyanya report that piece of information directly to Iztacoatl in order to prove her usefulness as a spy to that vampiric leech. Mentioning Astrid should also ensure her brother Fjor’s involvement, and the Nightkin was a critical piece in my game.

“So the tales I heard were true,” Ingrid said when I finished recounting yesterday’s events. “My lord’s mother has joined with our enemies.”

“I suspect that she has been working with them from the start,” I replied, noting how Zyanya paid close attention to each word. “To be allowed to stand so close to their emperor in spite of the blood we share is no small privilege.”

“Indeed, she must have cultivated her contacts for a long time prior to my sister’s abduction.” Ingrid looked at me with concern. “Has there been any word of Astrid?”

I had the feeling her unease and worry were in no way faked. Astrid being in the Sapa’s hands was infinitely better than the fate Iztacoatl planned to inflict on her, but they still remained an enemy empire with an agenda of their own. We couldn’t completely guarantee her safety, even with Mother keeping her in reserve to better strike at Iztacoalt. Learning of Astrid’s whereabouts would also increase the odds of the Nightlords recapturing her.

It’s a terrible feeling to worry for our kin. I’d experience the same agony when the Lords of Terror fed my father’s soul to Xibalba’s rotten heart. Uncertainty’s blade could cut deep. I wish I could offer her better guarantees than my word alone.

“None yet,” I replied calmly. Ingrid was too good an actor to break character, but I sensed her relief nonetheless. The less the Nightlords knew of Astrid’s location, the better. “I will inform you if our spies ever find her whereabouts.”

“Our enemies would be fools to bring such a valuable hostage anywhere near the frontline,” Chikal said. “She must be languishing in a palace hidden somewhere in the mountains.”

Chindi smiled with cruel joy. “Maybe they will sacrifice her if the master accrues more victories.”

She might have meant it as a mere joke, but it invited my and Ingrid’s glares nonetheless. Chikal herself remained cold-blooded. “Unlikely,” she said. “They are more likely to use her as currency for a particularly valuable prisoner exchange. Once news of the goddess’ hunger for sacrifices reaches the Sapa camp, the women there will weep to their emperor’s ear for their husbands' safe returns.”

I frowned in confusion. “The women?”

“You did not know?” Chikal scoffed. “According to our captives, Sapa warriors are allowed to take their wives to the front. They help carry their luggage, cook, and craft ceramic pots.”

“Pots?” Nenetl leaned in out of curiosity. “Why bring potters to a battlefield?”

“The Sapa rely on an extensive network of storehouses and waystations for military operations,” Chikal replied. “But when forced to fight far away from them, ensuring a steady supply of food becomes more difficult. Having skilled artisans create vessels on the spot allows the Sapa to store rations without transporting large, fragile ceramics over vast distances.”

“It’s a very different approach than ours,” I noted. “Our empire relies on trihorns beasts of burden and human carriers to safely transport large amounts of rations over vast distances. Bringing families is also forbidden in order to maintain military discipline.”

“The Sapa are used to fighting in the mountains, where the terrain is more difficult to navigate.” Chikal smirked upon bringing her chocolate cup to her lips. “I will agree with you about discipline. Our soldiers go to war to find a mate, not to parade them about.”

Ingrid scoffed in amusement. “About that, I’ve heard your amazons caught quite a bounty of husbands yesterday.”

“They did,” Chikal replied, her smirk fading. “Hence their disappointment when the goddess declared her intent to devour them.”

“They will simply have to capture two husbands each, and then let the vulture queen take the uglier ones,” Chindi joked cruelly.

Chikal chuckled. “An interesting solution.”

I ignored those comments and pondered Chikal’s information. She was right; when word of Sugey’s demand for sacrifices reached the Sapa, they would be in a hurry to trade away prisoners to spare their own from death. The captives’ kin would petition their emperor, or maybe even approach us themselves with information in order to save their own.

However, it would likely have the opposite result for those who already lost someone to Sugey’s hunger. Retreat and negotiation would feel akin to spitting on their relatives’ graves. I needed to act fast before the number of voices clamoring for blood drowned out those begging for pity.

“Ingrid, I want you to arrange a meeting with Manco on neutral ground tomorrow,” I decided. “Secure a good place and time.”

“For the purpose of organizing a prisoner exchange?” she guessed almost immediately.

“Yes. The goddess will claim one sacrifice per warrior, but we have plenty of surplus.” I had personally captured more prisoners than I knew what to do with. “You will inform Manco that we might be willing to trade some of those spares for our own.”

Chikal nodded in agreement. “Holding such talks on the third day of fighting would be wise, since the fourth will be the bloodiest of them all.”

Its brutality would certainly become legendary should our plan for Chindi and Eztli proceed as predicted. I had the sinking feeling such a meeting would be my only chance to assess Manco’s character directly, and that my entire strategy for dealing with the Sapa Empire would depend on the outcome.

“I believe I can arrange such an encounter shortly,” Ingrid promised. “I have begun to develop a spy network in the enemy’s camp with Aclla’s support. Word of the goddess’ edict should push more of them into our hands.”

“Are the Sapa aware of our coastal operations?” Chikal asked.

“I cannot say yet,” Ingrid replied. “I have ears in the camp, but none close enough to listen to their high command. If they know about our incoming armada, they show no hint of it.”

That displeased me. Had my messenger been lost at sea or disbelieved? Short of having Mother pass on the information and ruin her cover, I saw little way to warn the Sapa without incriminating myself.

A devastating conflict looked more and more inevitable.

Zyanya leaned in slightly to whisper in my ear. “May I have a minute of your time before the war council, Your Majesty?”

I raised an eyebrow and then nodded slightly. I was curious what she had in mind, and why she wished to speak with me alone. Did she receive new orders from Iztacoatl or learn of a secret she didn’t wish to share with my consorts?

Breakfast finished soon after, with Ingrid leaving to deal with the Sapa ambassadors, Chikal moving to prepare the war council on my behalf, and Nenetl returning to her quarters to rest. I noticed Necahual and Chindi walking away from my table together, the latter smiling at one of the former’s words. My witch was already baiting our sacrifice.

“You have my time and attention,” I told Zyanya once we were alone. I invited her to sit on my lap, which she did, and pulled my arms around her waist. “If you earn my interest, I will give you more than a minute.”

“Your Majesty has been kind to me… and true to our agreement.” She pulled her arms around my neck in a way I’d never seen her do with her husband. “I have information to report on your Sapa handmaiden.”

“Aclla?” True, I did ask Zyanya to keep an eye on her. “Did you notice anything suspicious?”

“Nothing that would implicate her in treason yet,” Zyanya conceded, “But she behaves in a way that I find… eerie.”

“How so?”

“I’ve observed your handmaiden from afar. She prays in front of open windows each day at sunrise, facing the wind. Hardly anything worthy of Your Majesty’s attention, especially since she mutters words under her breath with no one around to listen… but I then noticed something else.” Lady Zyanya stared into my eyes. “Have you noticed it? Her eyes?”

I scowled. “What about them?”

“She does not blink unless spoken to.”

“She does not?” That, I did not notice. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” Zyanya insisted. “She ceases to blink when she thinks no one is paying close attention to her. She stares on without moving, as if her entire mind is focused on your divine visage. It is very subtle, and very unnerving.”

I wondered what to make of this. None of this gossip incriminated Aclla in any way, yet it was indeed quite the odd behavior if true. I had the most startling feeling of familiarity, of recognition; like touching a memory I could not entirely recall.

Murmuring secrets to the wind… My eyes widened slightly upon recognizing the pattern. Could she be using the Augury spell?

No, it couldn’t be that. Zyanya didn’t see her shed blood to summon the wind, and Aclla was no Nahualli. She lacked the telltale hair and eyes, and the Nightlords would likely have branded her like they did with Nenetl at the first hint of supernatural powers.

Then again… she didn’t need to be a sorcerer to share information.

The Yaotzin heard every hurtful truth ever uttered by any mortals. While only Nahualli could hear it, everyone fed it day after day. The wind of chaos protected the anonymity of their ‘customers’ in order to both foster chaos and make them dependent on their assistance. This policy saved my secrets from the Nightlords’ notice, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that it favored me over others. The Yaotzin wasn’t called the Enemy of Both Sides for nothing.

If Ayar Cachi or another party had a sorcerer with knowledge of the Augury spell in their employ—something that was likely since even my predecessors had learned how to cast it—they could hear whatever Aclla whispered to the wind during her ‘prayers’. She might not even be aware of their importance. Her master might have simply asked her to recount her day to the wind as a form of prayer or benediction.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I also knew very little about our enemies’ magical traditions. My knowledge of spellcasting revolved around the secrets I obtained from my Underworld contacts or what I could glean from the Nightlords’ blood sorcery. The Mallquis, the spying stone tablets, and even the tumi emissary Inkarri sent to observe me in Mictlan didn’t fit into that framework.

The Sapa Empire had to possess sorcery of its own and carefully guarded its secrets to fend off Yohuachanca for so long. Aclla, or her superiors, could simply be using a spell I had no knowledge of… yet.

“I see,” I replied evasively. I needed to find a way to verify my theory. “I will invite Aclla to the war council and confirm your story.”

“I apologize if this is not much yet, Your Majesty, but I swear to make further progress soon,” Lady Zyanya promised me. “I am certain that your handmaiden is hiding something. It is only a matter of time until I uncover what.”

“Carry on,” I encouraged her by lightly kissing her on the neck. I sensed shivers of pleasure running down her skin. “I am pleased by your dedication.”

“Have I earned more of Your Majesty’s time then?” Zyanya leaned closer to my neck. “I can prove my dedication another way… and your seed has yet to take hold.”

I froze immediately. The memory of my monstrous revenant of an unborn child flared into my mind like a curse, squashing my lust with ice’s coldness. The mere thought of… of fathering another of that cursed and tormented thing…

My heart swelled with the same bitter rage that Nenetl had barely managed to quell earlier. My blood burned with resentment at the Nightlords for turning such a pleasant and natural part of life into yet another nightmare. The darkness dwelling deep within me echoed my loathing, its teeth gnashing behind its prison’s bars.

Zyanya frowned upon sensing my anger. “Your Majesty?”

“Tonight.” The memory was too fresh in my mind for me to perform right now. “First, I need blood.”

And it wouldn’t be mine.

I ran the war council in a dark mood.

I’d invited Aclla to join the war council as an observer and advisor on Sapa tactics. Quite a few of my generals looked aghast at the idea of a noncombatant attending the meeting, let alone a foreign woman from the nation they were fighting, but none had the gall to object. My performance on the battlefield and the miracles I accomplished had made me infallible in the eyes of many.

“First, I’d like to start with a minute of silence for our honorably departed Patli, who perished on the field of battle,” I said with such acting talent that my sorrow almost sounded sincere. Praising the dead was cheap, after all. “Slain by a beast-man wearing a bear’s pelt.”

“Those were members of the Ukuku, the bear fraternity,” Aclla said. Being acutely aware of her precarious position, she looked eager to win over the assembly with her wisdom. “By dressing themselves as mountain bears, they welcome their spirits to grant them strength.”

“They obtain a greater force’s might by impersonating them?” I asked with a thin smile. Where did I hear that before?

“The one which Your Divine Majesty captured has been unruly,” Tayatzin said. He looked like he had recovered my ominous morning prophecy, but he still stood a bit farther away from me than usual. “We had to chain him tightly, and he answered all our words with snarls.”

“Whatever power he obtained from his gods was no match for ours,” I replied with a scoff. “Should we expect another such surprise?”

Aclla pondered my question for a moment. “I have heard that Ayar Manco called upon the Pishtaco clan to assist him in defending the mountains, but I would not wish to bother Your Divine Majesty with a mere rumor.”

“The Pishtaco?” Chikal scowled upon recognizing the name. “Are you certain?”

“Who are they?” I asked curiously.

“Disgusting and cowardly fat-thieves,” Chikal replied with sincere disgust. “They put their victims to sleep to harvest their flesh or infect them with disease.”

“Other people know them as the Kharisiri,” Aclla explained. “The Pishtaco clan are shapeshifters who prey on unwary travelers to gorge themselves on their fat, which they sell as paste or food. They possess great strength, malevolence, and avarice.”

Coaxoch snorted in utter disdain. “They may find easy marks among the mountains, but not a single of my warriors has a shred of fat on his body.”

“We would be fools to underestimate our enemies,” Amoxtli replied while stroking his chin. “However, I am more worried about reports from scouts and spies sent to observe the Sapa camp. They saw the presence of armored longnecks, albeit smaller than ours.”

Cuauhteztli of the Eagle Knights raised an eyebrow. “Why bother armoring a longneck? Their scales are already tougher than stone.”

“Their longnecks differ from ours,” Aclla said. I noticed that she adroitly spoke as if she belonged to Yohuachanca and not the Sapa people. “They are thrice smaller than Your Majesty’s roaming palace, but bear strong bone scales on their back.”

“They will send those creatures to fight us one day or another,” Amoxtli insisted. “We ought to drill our men on how to wound or scare them off.”

An idea quickly crossed my mind, one that would surely win me greater glory and force Ayar Manco into a ceasefire.

“I will take care of those beasts myself,” I decided upon turning to look at Tayatzin. “Send a messenger to the Sapa’s camp and be sure to translate my words to the letter. Inform them that I shall take the field at the same spot and time as yesterday; and that in order to give them a chance of winning, I shall only take one fighter to assist me.”

“One fighter?” Amoxtli looked fit to gag. “Your Majesty, with all due respect–”

I silenced him with a glare. “Do you doubt my power, Amoxtli?”

“No, no, of course, I…” Amoxtli quickly bowed in obedience. “I am simply concerned by Your Majesty’s safety. The loss of Patli already diminished the Nightflowers’ strength, and the Sapa are sure to try and exploit it.”

“Your caution borders on cowardice, old man,” Coaxoch admonished him before pumping his chest with his fist. “Allow me the honor to escort you, Your Majesty. No man nor monster will get past the club of Coaxoch.”

“Your bravery is appreciated, but I already have chosen another.” I smiled. “My brave Itzili has been itching to sharpen his fangs on warm flesh.”

Chikal laughed heartily at my response. “Very clever,” she said, a wide smirk on her lips. “You want to flush out their beasts of battle in the open and bleed them out.”

Amoxtli stroked his chin. “That could work… even a feathered tyrant would be hardly a match for an adult longneck, but if our enemies’ own are truly thrice smaller, then young Itzili would hold a decisive advantage.”

While my generals discussed the pros and cons of my strategy, I seized my chance. I cast a very subtle Veil that obscured the way where my eyes pointed. When I pretended to look at a map, my gaze truly settled on my Sapa handmaiden. It hardly took me a few minutes to notice it.

Zyanya was right.

Aclla did not blink unless someone looked at or spoke to her. Whenever she faded out of everyone’s attention, she simply looked at us with an unwavering stare. Unlike Chindi, whose acting was only skin-deep, Aclla quickly adjusted her behavior whenever she sensed someone observing her.

It was more than her eyes that bothered me as well. Her posture slightly tensed up during those moments, like prey fearing discovery or a beast struggling a sudden tension. The change was so subtle I hardly noticed it at first.

I excluded the Skinwalker or shapeshifter hypothesis, since the Nightlords would have easily detected that kind of trap. Maybe her behavior had something to do with the strange ritual that gave her skin the color of gold. Could it have changed her nature? Did it do more than make her look like a gilded statue?

A statue.

Somehow the word rang in my head louder and stronger with each heartbeat. Could it be…

The first time I met the Sapa’s ambassadors, they sent me a stone tablet that doubled as a spying device for Inkarri. The Condor King managed to use it to observe my palace in spite of all the magical effects shielding it. He even managed to send a tumi emissary into the Underworld, although Mallquis were specifically barred from entering it to avoid their true death.

If the Mallquis could see through a pile of stone, why not a woman of gold?

It’s not Aclla looking at us right now, I realized with a shiver racing down my spine. The shift in body language reminded me of the many times I struggled wearing a human host. Another soul is spying on us through her.

That would explain the prayers to the wind too. Whatever magic allowed Aclla’s master to see through her eyes was cruder than my Ride spell and easier to detect. My handmaiden likely relayed whatever information her master had no time to observe with her fake prayers.

The Sapa had played a trick on us. We all suspected Aclla to be a spy, not a spying device.

Who hides behind your gilded skin? I wondered as the war council reached its conclusion. Friend or foe?

Inkarri and the other Mallquis were obvious suspects, but Ayar Cachi still remained a mystery to me. The information I disclosed to Aclla today should settle that question. If my enemies adapted their tactics accordingly, then she worked for Manco’s puppeteers; if not… if not, then Cachi was a lot more dangerous and resourceful than I’d expected.

I supposed we’ll know soon enough, I thought once the rest of the council unfolded. Sugey’s warning had whipped up my men into a capture frenzy and forced us to adjust our tactics accordingly. The Flower War’s second day would focus on group battles rather than individual duels, so my generals reassigned veteran leaders to lead squads of recruits and fresh meat.

My generals insisted that I bring at least a token escort with me to battle, and so I allowed myself to be convinced; though I insisted that the soldiers following me would be Nightflowers riding on trihorns so as not to overshadow me. If all went like yesterday, the order would be suitably crippled

I walked outside the war tent to find Itzili awaiting me outside. My feathered tyrant had sensed my craving for battle and eagerly welcomed me. His growth spurt continued with each passing day. A white fluffy mane now adorned his face, and he towered over trihorns the way an adult of his kind would. If this continued, he would soon become larger than any other specimen ever before seen.

However, a dark omen followed in Itzili’s wake. Dark clouds cast a great shadow upon the valley until it appeared trapped in an unnatural sunset. They were too red for rainclouds, and the dread they carried was unmistakable. I sensed the scarlet Tlahuiztli clinging to me like a second skin, and my jade bat mask sinking onto my face.

A drop of blood fell upon my brow, warm and viscous.

It dripped down my mask, and more followed after it. A faint red drizzle descended upon the earth to soil it. It swiftly polluted the river and ponds, painted our tents red, and cowed men and beasts alike into dreadful silence and murmurs. Countless eyes turned to the sky in order to witness this ominous omen.

I’d seen this phenomenon once before, soon after Yoloxochitl perished. Today’s faint drizzle hardly compared to the downpour that followed the Nightlord’s demise, but it was no less significant.

“Your Divine Majesty?” Tayatzin asked behind me, his body tenser than a hangman’s rope. “What is the meaning of this?”

“What I foresaw,” I retorted. “Death and darkness for all.”

“Your prayer has been answered,” the wind ominously whispered in my ear. “Blood and tears will flow today.”

My hatred had awakened the First Emperor from his torpor.

The Nigthlords’ ritual had cowed his vile spirit for a time, but his hunger and bloodthirst stirred to match my own. He had dined on the chaos of war, the anguish of the sacrificed, and the bitter wine of my own heart. I fed him, and it fed me in return.

I mounted Itzili without a word with my obsidian club in hand. The blood smoothly flowed on me like a cloak of crimson, welcoming me, cherishing me. Countless turned to me for leadership, waiting for me to reassure them that this godly rain was a good sign rather than an ominous curse; and I indulged them.

“Soldiers of Yohuachanca!” I shouted from atop Itzili’s back, my weapon raised to the sky. “The heavens weep tears of blood for our enemies out of pity, for they know we shall show none today!”

Itzili let out a roar as if on cue, one so strong as to shake the very ground beneath his feet.

“I declare this valley sanctified by the gods of war!” I declared to my gathered soldiers. “Your hard labor secured a bounty of sacrifices, but the gods of Yohuachanca are not so easily impressed! They thirst for greater glory, and we shall fulfill their wishes! This divine rain is proof that you now have their attention, and you must now earn their respect!”

My voice boomed with the wind and rain. I felt the attention of countless soldiers and warriors transfixed by my divine presence. The strength of their belief flowed into me, raising me closer to the godhood which I craved.

If the perception of others influenced what divinity I might become, I might as well become an undefeated god of war.

“So venture forth, for your ancestors, for yourself, for our empire! Embrace the fire of valor, you shall be like the comet blazing its way through the night sky! Fear not death or defeat, for today you ride immortal!” I swung my club at the distant Sapa camp. “Glory awaits!”

A tidal wave of war cries and cheers answered my challenge, followed by Itzili’s mighty roar. My feathered tyrant could no longer contain his bloodthirst afterwards. He ran across the camp at a running speed that would inspire fear in anyone unfortunate enough to be chased by his waiting jaws. The bloody rain did not slow him down in the slightest. The droplets instead slid upon his scales and filled his salivating maw with a thirst for death. My small trihorn rider escort struggled to match his pace.

When I reached my chosen battle site, I found priests from both sides of the Flower War struggling to light up the bonfire meant to announce the start of hostility. I noticed Mother among them, staring at me with a stone-cold expression. The occult weight of her Haunt paled compared to the dark shadow the First Emperor cast on the entire valley.

As predicted, the Sapa sent troops to welcome me. A dozen strange longnecks walked to my location to challenge me. As the reports attested, their size and length had more in common with Itzili and trihorns than my roaming palace. Their brown scales turned to bones on their back and spine, though they lacked the spines that Manco’s mount boasted. The Sapa Emperor himself was nowhere to be seen today.

My gaze lingered on the longneck’s riders, whose gaunt appearance inspired a wave of nausea in my heart. Their pale chalky skin, tainted red by the crimson rain, covered so little flesh that I could see the outline of their bones. All of them lacked hair of any sort and their sunken black eyes stared at me with an almost predatory degree of hostility. Moreover, they all looked disturbingly similar, like many sets of twins. I didn’t need the Gaze to realize that these people weren’t humans; they were weapons pointed at me.

Mother had warned me that the Mallquis would try to assassinate me, even when I hadn’t managed to kill myself on the first day of my tenure. They were welcome to try.

They would leave disappointed.