Cautiously, I slackened my grip on my knife, and knelt by his side, trying to shake him awake. 'Come on,' I whispered. 'Come on.'
Somehow, Neutemoc had woven his way between the creatures that opposed him, and left the altar and the dead child behind. Moving with a speed and ease I had not known he possessed, he was running towards one of the empty reed boats, his obsidianstudded sword weaving in and out of the creatures' embrace. It reminded me of two dancers I had seen a long time ago, in a deserted girls' calmecac; back when the whole affair had just been a missing priestess – and not this… monstrosity it had turned into.
No creatures remained to face me. They were all engaged in battle against my priests. Palli was standing in the water, his back wedged against one of the reed boats, keeping the creatures at bay with grim determination.
The battle between the priests of Tlaloc and Ixtli's men was still going on. Ixtli, with suicidal bravery, had leapt onto the barge of the leading priest, and was cutting his way towards the back. The priest, though, did not look afraid: he was watching Ixtli approach, his smile the same as the jaguar's before it leaps on its prey.
With Teomitl's loss of consciousness, the ahuizotls were no longer fighting: they stood, aimlessly wandering on the muddy earth. How long did we have before they started turning on us?
I shook Teomitl's slight frame. 'Come on.'
'Not… worthy of… her,' he whispered. 'I… should… have known.'
The Duality preserve us. As if we needed more complications. 'Come on.'
'Choose… your… battlefield,' Teomitl whispered. 'Not… worthy…'
One more priest went down. Ichtaca had stopped chanting and was holding two creatures at bay, single- handedly. Over the water, Ixtli had only a handful of men left; but more priests of the Storm Lord remained, casting darts in a steady barrage. As I watched, a dart struck Ixtli across the chest. He wavered, his face set in a grimace, but went on, cutting down the last priest between him and the leader.
Neutemoc had reached the shore, four creatures lazily gliding after him. Palli rose from his crouch, and batted away at the creatures, while Neutemoc pushed a boat into the waters of the lake.
Without the ahuizotls, though, it was clear that we were doomed.
'We need you,' I said to Teomitl, resisting the urge to shake some good sense into him. 'Huitzilpochtli blind you, we need you, or everything is lost!'
'Mother…' Teomitl whispered. 'I'm… sorry. Should… have… remained… true to Huitzilpochtli.'
I flung his own words back at him. 'There's no shame in having two allegiances,' I said, urgently.
Ichtaca was down on one knee; and while Palli and Neutemoc had succeeded in getting their boat off the island, they had creatures chasing after them.
On the water, Ixtli and the leading priest were fighting sword against spear, rocking with the barge they were on. Only three Duality warriors remained; but one priest of Tlaloc floated facedown in the water, a magical sword embedded in his back.
'Teomitl,' I whispered. 'Ahuizotl. This is your testing ground. This is your battlefield. Will you run away?'
Teomitl's eyes fluttered open. He stared at me, without seeing me. 'I'll… choose… my testing ground,' he whispered. 'Not this. I can't… The pain… too much…'
'Are you running away?' I screamed, shaking him like a rag doll. 'Are you such a coward?'
For a long, long time, he did not answer. Palli's boat, with Neutemoc at the oars, was tracing a chaotic trajectory onto the waters of the lake, trying to elude the three creatures coming after it. It was going nowhere near the ghost tree.
'Teomitl,' I said, slowly. 'No one chooses their testing ground. Not even those of Imperial blood. And a true man stands by the consequences of his acts.'
His eyes fluttered again, the emptiness replaced by anger. 'You're a fine one to reproach me with that, aren't you?'
'I don't understand,' I said, taken aback.
Teomitl tore himself from my grasp, every feature of his face becoming as harsh as polished jade. 'So small, priest,' he whispered, but it wasn't his voice. 'So filled with useless regrets.'
Chalchiutlicue. No!
'I don't understand,' I whispered, even though I still remembered Her rifling through my thoughts like a peccary digging for roots, discarding what did not interest Her. 'I–'
Teomitl knelt in the brackish water, gazing at the black clouds overhead, which showed no sign of dispersing. His fist clenched around algae, once, twice. When he spoke again, his voice was his own. 'I was overwhelmed,' he said, all the apology I would ever get. 'Thank you.'
His eyes narrowed, as the Jade Skirt's light streamed from every pore of his skin, and the ahuizotls were back into the fray. Several of them slid into the water, going after Neutemoc and Palli's boat, engaging the creatures chasing it. Neutemoc, after looking back, set the prow of the boat in the direction of the ghost tree – and rowed like a possessed man. Palli's face was grim.
Ichtaca resumed his chanting; by his rising voice, he was almost at the end of his hymn.
On the barge, Ixtli twisted and the spear spun out of the leading priest's outstretched hand, landing into the water. Ixtli raised his sword to strike.
I took hold of my knife, and plunged back into the battle, determined to dispatch as many creatures as I could. But something kept nagging at me, a sense that I was missing something. I avoided a claw-swipe that would have disembowelled me, and raised my knife to strike. But the creature had already shifted left. I sank the knife into the creature, under Ezamahual's shocked gaze. As it screamed and died, I stole a look at the ghost tree.
Mazatl still stood at its foot, kneeling with one hand on the roots. Magic streamed out of the tree, plunging into his whole body. Soon, he would be gorged with Tlaloc's magic, and dispatch us all with ease.
There was worse. The water, which had been up to my knees before, had now reached my waist. I retreated onto drier ground. The shores. I glanced at Teomitl, who had also retreated further inland. The waters of the lake were rising. The patch of earth we were standing on was shrinking.
Over by the boats, the leading priest of Tlaloc was facing Ixtli, both his hands empty. With a terrible smile,
