Obsidian & Blood

Southern Hummingbird's incarnation as the supreme light.

'Dressed in yellow plumes

You are He who rises, He of the region of heat

Those of Amantla are Your enemies

We join You, We honour You in making war…'

  I slashed a wound in the palm of my hand, extended it to Teomitl, who had done the same. As we held hands, our blood mingled, trickled on the ground as one.

'Dressed in paper

In the region of dust, you whirl in the desert

Those of Pipitlan are Your enemies

We join You, We Honour You in making war…'

  Light blazed across the pattern, spreading inwards, until it seemed that it would smother Teomitl for a bare moment, before his protection sprang to life again, an island of light within the light. Everything else faded into insignificance: the room, the frescoes, the grisly remnants outside and inside the circle. The colours were swept away, merged into the light; the faces of the gods and goddesses became the featureless ones of strangers.

  The air was growing warmer, the ground under our feet was the red sand of the deserts, and a dry, choking wind rose in the room.

  In the light was the huge visage of Tonatiuh the Fifth Sun, His war-painted face melding with that of a beast, sable hairs sprouting around His sharp nose, His cheeks still bearing the scars of His original sacrifice, His lolling tongue dripping blood. His eyes, slowly opening, were twin bonfires wrapped around the huge, hulking shape of a human being: the god Himself, still burning after all that time, endlessly burning to offer light and warmth to Grandmother Earth.

  His gaze rested on us – a touch more searing than that of the wind – before moving away.

  The wind died down, the desert retreated into the yellow stone of the room; the world sprang back into painful focus.

  I exhaled burning air, gasping for the freshness of the mortal world. Teomitl's knees had buckled, and he was slowly pushing himself up again, with angry pride on his face. 'Not a careful god,' he said.

  'No,' I said. Teomitl pushed himself hard, but in return he demanded high things from everyone around him, gods included. 'But that's bad.'

  'What?'

  'He wasn't looking here,' I said, trying to forget the icy void opening in my stomach. 'No more than at any other place. It's not sacred ground. No soul has ascended into Heaven from here.'

  Teomitl looked puzzled. 'The body…'

  'I know,' I said. In my head was running a chant we learnt in the House of Tears, the school for the priesthood: The moon hungers to outrace, to outshine the sun; the stars hunger to come down, to rend our flesh; the stars hunger to fall down, to steal our souls… 'It's a star-demon, and it has his soul.'

  'That can't be–' Teomitl started. 'They…'

  They couldn't come here, not unless summoned; and, even then, it would require at least the lifeblood of a human being, spilled by a strong practitioner, in honour of a powerful god. We had a sorcerer loose in the city, one who wished no good to the Mexica Empire.

  And then another, horrible thought stopped me. What if it was no sorcerer?

  What if She'd got free?

  'Come on,' I said to Teomitl. 'We have to check something. I'll explain when we get there.'

To my apprentice's credit, he followed without demur, though I could feel him struggling to contain his impatience as we strode out of the palace.

  'Where are we going?' he asked.

  'The Great Temple.' I headed back towards the Serpent Wall, though not before looking up. The stars were still there, still reassuringly far. It had to be a freak occurrence, had to be someone taking advantage of the current power vacuum to loose fire and blood upon us.

  'You want to pray?' Teomitl shook his head. 'This hardly seems the time, Acatl-tzin.'

  'I'm not planning to pray,' I said. The Sacred Precinct opened up in front of us. Directly ahead was the Jaguar House, reserved for elite warriors, still lit up, with snatches of song and perfume wafting up to us. And, further down, the mass of the Great Temple, looming in the darkness like a mountain. 'I'm going to make sure we don't have a bigger problem on our hands.'

  'In the Great Temple?' Teomitl asked. 'It's just a shrine.'

  I shook my head. 'Not only that.'

  Teomitl started to protest, and then he shook his head. His gaze turned towards the bulk of the Great Temple pyramid, looming over the rest of the Sacred Precinct. A fine lattice of light rose around the stone structure, flowing over the stairs and the double shrine at the top two mingled radiances, the strong sunlight of Huitzilpochtli the Southern Hummingbird, and the weaker, harsh one of the Storm Lord Tlaloc, tinged with the dirty white of rain clouds.

  Teomitl's face twisted. A pale, jade-coloured cast washed over his features, until he seemed a carving himself. He was calling on the magic of his other protector Chalchiuhtlicue, Jade Skirt, goddess of lakes and streams. His gaze went down, all the way into the foundations of the Great Temple 'Oh,' he said. 'I see.'

  What mattered was not the temple, it never had. What mattered was what it had been built on, Who it had imprisoned since the beginning of the Mexica Empire; a goddess who was our worst enemy.