he lifted his hand as if to throw something into the air.
And something did leave his outstretched fingers, shining as it rose. A narrow beam of jade-coloured light formed, settled onto Ixtli. Ixtli's face contorted in pain; he went down on one knee, gasping in pain, the sword torn from his grasp. The leading priest was smiling. He lifted Ixtli's face to expose the throat, and raised a noose, whispering words I couldn't hear: a prayer to His god before the sacrifice, no doubt.
'No!' I howled, but I had no time to do anything. The leading priest looped the rope around Ixtli's throat in a practised gesture, and tightened it. Ixtli's eyes bulged.
Two creatures engaged me simultaneously; I ducked, but claws raked my back. Numbness filled me, transformed into images of Eleuia, alluringly dancing on the battlefield.
I had to help Ixtli… I rose, and one of the creatures leapt upon me. Ezamahual was fighting the other one, holding its full attention.
I ducked left and right as the creature attacked in a frenzy of claw-swipes, trying to keep an eye on the battlefield.
Teomitl was running, ahuizotls gathering around him in a gruesome escort. He reached the boats, and, arcing himself against the smallest one, pushed it into the water – and leapt into it.
On the barge, Ixtli was clawing at his throat, in a vain effort to throw off the noose. But it was futile; the priest of Tlaloc had won. Ixtli's death, as a sacrifice to his god, would only add to his power.
I feinted right and the creature followed, hissing as it opened itself for a fatal strike. I slid out of its embrace, and struck its midriff with the knife.
Two down.
There were no creatures in my immediate vicinity. I used the breathing space to take a look at the battlefield. Teomitl's boat was leaving the island, though he wasn't rowing. With a shock, I re alised the ahuizotls, gathered under the keel, were dragging it forward, to where the leading priest was still strangling Ixtli.
As I watched, Ixtli flopped to the floor of the barge. There were now only two Duality warriors left; and a handful of priests of Tlaloc, gathering against them.
Over the lake, several of the creatures had succeeded in bypassing the ahuizotls. Neutemoc, frantically rowing, was almost close enough to the ghost tree. But another creature had abandoned the fray on the island, and was gliding towards the boat, its hiss almost amused.
Palli, his face a mask of concentration, was already hard pressed to fend off both creatures. But the other creature was getting closer and closer, faster than the erratic trajectory of the boat.
On the shore, six creatures remained, three of them busy fighting ahuizotls, and the rest kept at bay by my priests. Ichtaca was opening the throat of a hummingbird, though the rain washed off the flow of blood on his hands.
Teomitl's craft crashed into the tangle of boats; the ahuizotls slid away. One by one, they started pulling the priests of Tlaloc into the water. Teomitl himself had leapt clear of his boat, and was running from vessel to vessel, intent on reaching the leading priest, who stood in his large barge, too far away from the water to be snatched by an ahuizotl.
It was clear where the urgency was: helping Neutemoc get to Mazatl. I sheathed my knife, ran to the shore, and pushed a boat into the water.
'You can't do it alone,' Ezamahual said, behind me – climbing into the craft, taking the oars. 'I'll row.'
I nodded, and together we slowly got the boat out of the shallows, towards Neutemoc.
I turned, briefly. Teomitl had reached the same barge as the leading priest. The priest threw his hand up again; and the same light, expanding, covered Teomitl.
Teomitl grimaced. His face contorted in a painful struggle, and his grip on his sword slackened. He was going to die, like Ixtli – no…
But then a light as green as jade, as underwater depths, filled his eyes; and his features, softened by the inhuman light, became once again those of the goddess. The priest's spell fell around him harmlessly, shearing itself in two like a split obsidian mirror.
Teomitl shook his head, and walked forward, past the still body of Ixtli, smiling a smile even more terrible than the priest. His obsidian-studded sword was raised; and the leading priest had no weapon of his own, only magic that would have no effect on Teomitl.
Who are you?
I turned away, keeping my gaze on Neutemoc. I did not see Teomitl's sword come down; but I heard the priest scream, a thin, reedy cry carried away by the wind; and then nothing, only the splashes made by the ahuizotls, and the soft raking noise of claws, tearing at flesh.
Ezamahual's quick rowing was bearing its fruit: we were slowly catching up with Neutemoc's and Palli's boat.
We were going to be too late, though.
Ahead of us, one of the creatures finally got past Palli's guard, and its claws raked the offering priest's arm. Palli fell to his knees in the boat, his face stretching into that familiar, terrible emptiness.
Now Neutemoc was defenceless. He did not give up. He went on rowing, intending to reach the ghost tree before the creatures could catch up on him.
It was never going to work… Never…
Ezamahual's oar-strokes quickened into a frenzy, but it wasn't going to be enough.
Ichtaca… Now or never.
And, for once, the Duality heard my prayer.
On the shore, Ichtaca laid both hands on the ground, and threw back his head with a triumphant scream. The circle blazed, spreading the Southern Hummingbird's light everywhere around the island, sinking into Ichtaca's flesh, outlining the bones of the priests in light.
The creatures, caught in the spell's hold, became paler and paler, vanishing altogether within the radiance.
It spread further, over the water – engulfing Ezamahual and me – reaching Neutemoc and Palli, and going on. For the briefest of moments, the ghost tree wavered and started to fade.
