I tried to roll aside, but the beast was too heavy. It breathed into my face the nauseous smell of rotting bodies, of pus and bleeding wounds. I wanted to retch. But I couldn't. I was pinned to the ground, my lungs all but crushed by the weight on my chest.
I'd dropped the jade heart, but my hand was still clenched around the obsidian knife. I tried to raise it, but the beast was blocking me. Its claws had shredded my cloak and were now digging into my chest, where the jade pendant was obviously giving it some trouble.
Good.
I heaved, felt the beast slide a fraction of a measure, enough for me to wedge the knife upwards and sink it into flesh.
The beast roared, but remained where it was, weighing down on my chest.
The Duality curse me. The jade amulet would slow it down, but at some point it would be entirely blackened – and thus useless.
I heaved again, to little avail.
Footsteps sounded in the hut. 'Acatl-tzin!'
The beast roared, and turned away from me. I heaved again, sending it to the ground. As quickly as I could, I rolled upright.
My night vision was a little better, but not clear enough. Presumably, the two silhouettes hacking at each other in the hut were Teomitl, armed with his sword, and the beast, hissing like a frustrated ocelot. Teomitl's breath came in quick, heavy gasps, and he circled the thing in an awkward way: a wound, taken as he'd been struck down by the beast, must have hampered him.
Obviously, the beast had the upper hand. It didn't have the problem of inadequate night vision, and Teomitl's reflexes were no match for its rapid strikes.
But we had one advantage over it: because it was made of the deepest shadows of Mictlan, it hated light. Any kind of light. And outside the hut would be starlight, and the rising moon, steadily climbing into the sky. And a dense network of maize seedlings, which would betray the slightest movement.
I unsheathed both my remaining obsidian knives, feeling Mictlantecuhtli's power pulse deep within, and made my way to the door as fast as I could.
I closed my eyes, briefly, extending my priest-senses – and felt the beast, a black patch of raw anger and hatred, mixed with the deeper darkness of Mictlan. Not stopping to dwell on the consequences of failure, I took aim, and threw one knife at the combatants.
A howl informed me I'd hit the right target; I threw myself to the ground, and not a moment too soon. The beast leapt right over me, and landed in the maize with a dry, rustling sound.
The starlight limned its shape: a body half as large again as a jaguar's, a narrow snout, glittering fangs; and yellow, malevolent eyes that seemed to see right into my soul. That had to be what a deer felt, in the moment before the hunter closed on it.
No.
I had to–
I threw myself aside again, and the leap which had been meant for my chest caught my left arm instead. Claws sank deep into my skin. I stifled a scream as the searing pain spread through the bones of my upper arm. My hand opened, out of its own volition, and the obsidian knife, the only one I had left, fell to the ground.
The beast withdrew its claws. Its muscles bunched up, to snatch me and bring me closer to it. I did the only possible thing: I let myself fall to the ground. The beast's claws went wide. Frustrated, it shook its head, growling in a decidedly unpleasant manner.
I flicked my eyes upwards, glancing at the sky: the moon was steadily rising higher and higher, but it would be a while before its light fell on the Floating Garden.
Huitzilpochtli strike me down.
At the threshold of the hut, a shaking Teomitl had hauled himself upwards. He was attempting to raise his sword, but I didn't think he'd arrive in time.
There was no point in discreetly retrieving my obsidian knife. I simply dived for it, as the beast braced itself for another jump, straight in the direction I was going in.
The shock of its weight sent me sprawling to the ground, fighting not to scream as my left arm became a mass of fiery pain. Its claws scrabbled at my jade pendant and the thread holding it around my neck parted. The pendant fell to the ground with a clink. The beast roared in triumph and reared, both paws held high above my chest – with all their claws unsheathed.
'Acatl-tzin!' Teomitl bellowed.
The world turned to thick honey; everything seemed to happen more slowly than needed: the claws descending to slash open my chest; Teomitl's unsteady footsteps, rushing towards me, but too late, it was already too late; the glimmer of the obsidian knife, lying in the mud inches from my left hand.
My left hand.
I had to–
Focus. I had to focus.
I clenched the fingers of my left hand – I think I screamed, then, as the pain became stronger than anything I had endured in my noviciate at the calmecac – closed them around the hilt of the knife. The weapon felt alive under my touch, beating like a living heart. Power pulsed deep within: a smell of sick-houses and rotting bodies, hovering on the edge of becoming something far greater.
I didn't think. I couldn't afford to. In a quick, stabbing motion, I raised the knife, intending to sink it into the beast's chest before it opened mine.
The claws raked into my flesh before I could complete my motion. My hand clenched, convulsively, but I didn't let go. I screamed and writhed, but I still raised the knife. And, scrabbling for some thing, for anything that could save me, I instinctively opened myself wide to the power within the knife.
For a brief, timeless moment, the power of Mictlan seared through my flesh: the decay of every living thing, the loneliness and sadness of the dead, the dry smell of bleached bones and dust. For a brief, timeless moment, the pain was blasted away by emptiness. It was my hand and yet not my hand which pushed upwards, at an angle I would have been incapable of reaching with my wounded arm.
The beast, completing its downward motion, fell upon the blade I held up, and grew still. Its weight crushed
