Blood & Fur

Chapter Ninety-One: Night Advice

Not even the warmest waters could wipe away the invisible stain clinging to my skin.

I’d been in the hot bath for an hour, and I still felt soiled. I continued to hear the screams where only splashing waves broke the silence, and I stared into the emptiness ahead without a thought crossing my mind.

Necahual’s arms coiled around my neck from behind. I sensed her bosom rubbing against my back. It should have been a comforting gesture, but I instead struggled with the urge to stare at her veins pulsating with my blood. The thirst pushed me to empty them, and resisting its vile call was exhausting.

“What did she do to you this time?” Necahual asked me. My favorite concubine knew me well. I only called her alone to my side when I required a confidant’s comfort.

I took a deep breath and inhaled the burning stream. “She made me watch.”

Necahual pondered my words. She likely had a good idea of what I’d seen from the way I’d avoided responding to her amorous attention so far, but she still required confirmation. “Watch what?”

“What her sister planned to do to you.”

Necahual’s arms tensed up around my neck. I remembered how she cried in horror and pleaded with me to save her when Yoloxochitl threatened to send her to the frontlines as a ‘comfort woman’ for soldiers. She would have ended up like one of these poor Sapa captives had I not spoken up on her behalf.

I’d managed to save Necahual back then, if I could call ‘saving’ turning her into my personal slave, but I couldn’t repeat that miracle tonight; and it shamed me. The deep sting of failure smothered my wrath with bitter powerlessness.

I turned in the bath. My concubine took my shoulders into her hands and pulled me to the edge of the bath, her face facing mine. She seemed wiser and more graceful each time I looked at her.

“I assume that Sugey told you that she would kill any woman you failed to sire a child upon, or worse,” Necahual guessed, with my silence confirming her suspicions. “So what?”

My lips twisted into a scowl. “So what?”

“Why whip yourself for something you were planning to do anyway?” Necahual scoffed. “I’ve seen the way you looked at Lahun, Tenoch, and all the others. You lay with us because you can, not because you’re forced to.”

“But is the reverse true?” I put a hand on her throat and applied the slightest bit of pressure. She did not resist me. “No god nor man will come to rescue a woman should I decide to take her for myself. Can you call that consent? Don’t you see where this can lead?”

“You won’t force yourself on a woman,” Necahual replied with utter confidence. “You will always seek to earn her affection first.”

“And why is that?”

“Because power is only half the reason why you lay with a woman.” Necahual snorted in amusement. “The other half is because the cursed child within you craves the feeling of being loved. Of being desired.”

Her words never failed to hit me harder than any slap, because they always struck a chord deep within my soul. I clenched my teeth and tried to find a counterargument, but I couldn’t focus while struggling not to take a look at Necahual’s neck.

Was this how Eztli suffered each day? Resisting the urge to see her loved ones as meals rather than people? If so, then she had lived in agony since Yoloxochitl turned her into a vampire. I admired her willpower as much as I pitied her.

Necahual looked at me. She had seen her daughter’s looks of hunger often enough to recognize mine. A wiser woman would have pulled back for her own sake… yet she instead set her wet hair behind her back and bared her throat to me.

She was offering herself to me.

My tongue clicked in my mouth. “I can’t… I’m not sure I can stop myself if I do it.”

She scoffed at my words. “I’ve fed my daughter.”

“Not like this."

“Would you rather bite my breast?” Necahual shrugged her shoulders. “I have faith you will control yourself, because you are strong. So stop doubting yourself and take what is yours.”

Her stern sincerity always managed to touch me. Her hands grabbed my cheeks and gently guided my lips to her bare neck. A shiver of pleasure ran down my spine the moment I touched her skin, and a fierce hunger seized me. My teeth sank into her flesh deep enough to draw that sweet blood of her. Necahual didn’t show pain, nor even whimper; in fact, the bite seemed to arouse her. Her left hand moved to the back of my head to draw me deeper while the other pressed against my back.

Her blood was thicker than what Sugey served me and far sweeter than the Kharisiris’. It tasted of love and lust rather than fear and pain, and carried the gentle warmth of sunlight. Where other drinks only heightened my hunger, this one brought me a measure of satiety.

I’d been afraid of losing control and harming her, but I drank my fill far quicker than I expected. I pulled back and continued to kiss her with my lips rather than my teeth, my arms coiling around her ass to pull her up. Necahual answered my lust with moans. The taste of her warm flesh only aroused me further.

Nonetheless, I ended up frowning upon sensing resistance on Necahual’s waist. I glanced below to notice a thin scar that wasn’t there before, my jaw tightening into a scowl.

“Anaye?” I guessed in a flash of anger.

“This is nothing.” Necahual waved my worries away. “She won’t bother Atziri.”

“Did she try–”

“She tried to frighten me, yes.” Necahual’s smirk carried a cruel edge. “I sharply disciplined her in response. She will behave.”

The confident way my favorite witch said those words excited me, but the fact that this skinwalker dared to raise a hand at her at all filled me with anger. My mind was made up.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered in my favorite’s ear.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” I wanted Sugey to suffer and weep, no matter the cost. I wanted her mad dream to die with a whimper, I wanted Anaye gone, and more than that, I wanted Eztli back. “Come what may.”

Necahual answered my words with a thin smile and then a kiss. I still had her blood on my lips, which we shared together.

Necahual adjusted her position to let my manhood slip within her, and I soon began pushing her against the bath’s edge. Waves of pleasure coursed through my body as I pounded and slammed and kissed and seized and bit. She offered herself to me wholly, without doubt or reservation; and within her arms, I found the power and comfort I craved.

“I love you,” I ended up blurting out in the throes of passion.

“I know,” Necahual replied with utter confidence.

She knew she owned me.

Our heart-fires melded into seidr’s burning embrace, our union shining brighter than ever. I shared with her my plan for Chindi, showed her spells in the hope that she could emulate them, and delved deeper into distant visions. I saw flashes of Mother speaking with Ayar Manco while his pet condor perched on his shoulder like a tutor, followed by a glimpse of Eztli cradling herself in a cold bed in my palace’s cold bedroom. Her eyes closed in silent sorrow and loneliness from which I hoped to free her from soon.

I uncoiled from Necahual once we returned to reality, the waves of the bath slowly splashing on my back. We both exhaled and rested afterwards in silent satisfaction.

“Thank you,” I told her as I sat back into the bath, her head resting on my shoulder. “I needed this.”

“I could see that.” Necahual gently caressed my cheek. “What next? I am in the mood for music after all this shaking today.”

I sighed. “I promised Zyanya I would spend time with her.”

“Then invite her to join us for a performance,” Necahual replied sharply. “Remind her that she is your second choice, and not yet worthy of asking requests of you. Nothing motivates people quicker than a need to prove themselves.”

My beloved witch was crueler than I could ever hope to be.

—----

I indulged Necahual and spent the evening listening to musicians in her and Zyanya’s company.

I caught a glimpse of the latter’s quiet frustration when she realized I summoned her after already spending some time with my favorite. I showed her that she had proved useful enough to warrant my company, but not my full attention.

Nonetheless, Sugey had been correct about one thing: the idea of Tlaxcala touching her was growing more and more unbearable. Hence I seized Zyanya with renewed ardor, and I had the intuition our latest coupling would be the decisive one.

My thirst was gone too, at least for the time. I couldn’t tell whether it was because Necahual freely gave her own blood to me instead of it being taken by force or because it carried the strength of sunlight, but I welcomed this brief respite.

Did my self-esteem affect my thirst as well? Did the curse become stronger the more I perceived it as such? Did it lessen when Necahual turned her blood into a gift rather than a tribute? The idea wouldn’t leave my head.

I hoped I had more control over myself than the eyes of others.

I closed my eyes in the darkest night with Necahual snoring on one side and Zyanya on the other, yet my mind failed to find slumber. Neither the war nor physical exercise had managed to lull me to sleep. My unnatural vitality hindered me once again.

“Sleep,” I uttered the Word under the cover of a Veil in an attempt to force myself to slumber. I failed. My power could cow the sky into obedience, but it couldn’t affect me. Attempting to copy Mother’s sleeping spell by channeling a lullaby through my Ihiyotl breath yielded no results either. I exhaled a dark miasma that was more potent than the Sapa priests’ feeble sorcery and inhaled it back with no issue.

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My power had grown beyond myself.

No matter. There were other ways to put this night to use.

I closed my eyes and focused on the Legion’s bond that connected me to my predecessors and their skulls spread across my empire. My mind brushed against their gestalt spirit and immediately sensed Father’s presence within the conglomerate of souls. He watched over me like a benevolent spirit, and while he was a single soul among hundreds, he had shown enough pull to oppose the First Emperor’s influence.

One man’s voice could cut through a god’s whispers through love alone, and that softened my heart of stone.

Father’s spirit reached out to me in response to my probing. I couldn’t yet directly communicate with thoughts alone for fear of being overwhelmed by a flood of foreign memories, but I sensed his warmth touching my soul like gentle waves. I sensed no condemnation nor reproach, even though I had only shown him war, blood, and death lately. Father answered my doubts with gentle comfort and unconditional support.

He knew I was trying, and he still had faith that I would pull through.

It gave me hope.

I projected my mind into the hidden skull I’d left in Eztli’s room and oversaw the now deserted herbal laboratory she shared with Necahual. I waited some time for my consort to visit it, which she did. I uneasily watched her feed flowers with her blood the same way Yoloxochitl used to. Eztli didn’t even seem to realize the bitter irony of her action; going through her predecessor’s had become routine.

We were running out of time.

I had managed to channel Bonecraft through my skulls back in Tlalocan and succeeded in doing so in the waking world. More than that, my magic called out to me, demanding that I push my limits ever further. A part of my soul wished to answer Sugey’s abuse with a display of authority over reality itself, the same way it compelled me to summon the rain in Zachilaa.

I couldn’t afford such a display within my palace’s heart, but denying my sorcery would only lead to it boiling up like Smoke Mountain’s lava and blowing up in my face. I had to do something.

I am legion, I thought as I channeled Bonecraft through the Legion skull. I’d confirmed I could reshape my bones now after obtaining Tlaloc’s embers. I’d grown more acutely aware of my sorcery now that my spirit projected itself into such a small vessel. This is my bone. This is me.

If I could channel Bonecraft through my skulls from a distance, could it also work with more advanced spells?

I channeled magic through the Legion skull, and my magic rewarded my inquisitiveness with a rush of power. I whipped up lies into being, casting a Veil that darkened the shadows surrounding me. I sensed eyes observing Eztli from within the walls, none of them aware that my spirit lurked nearby. This Veil spell was the subtlest and weakest illusion I’d ever cast, yet the mere fact that I could cast it at all was an achievement in itself.

I could channel some of my spells through the Legion’s skulls, at least when I possessed one directly.

I already had the feeling that I could do that when I managed to use Bonecraft on my bones from afar, but to feel the power flowing through my soul and bones filled me with giddiness. I now had the ability to sabotage the Nightlords from afar through sorcery, to spread my consciousness and influence across the land one skull at a time.

Would this increase in potency expand to the Ride spell too? Could I cast spells through the hands and mouths of others? It felt good to have prospects again after what Sugey put me and so many innocents through.

I nevertheless had to focus on my task. My magic shifted the fabric of the Veil I’d whipped into existence until it touched Eztli, creating words spoken without lungs and only audible to those enveloped within my spell’s range.

“Tomorrow night,” I whispered through the Veil to her ears alone. “Nightfall.”

Eztli’s spine stiffened and she peeked over her shoulder. Her crimson gaze swiftly spotted the tiny skull tucked in a corner of her shelf. She stared at it for a moment, and I caught a brief nod before she pretended to focus back on her gardening. I could have sworn I saw her smile at the edge of her lips; a most pleasant sight whose joy I shared.

The message was passed on and the die cast. So many stars would align tomorrow, one way or another.

With the Underworld’s doors closed to me tonight, I used Spiritual Manifestation to free my Tonalli from my earthly body. My spirit arose from my heart under the cover of an invisibility Veil, flying unseen through my roving palace’s walls. My intent was to fly away from my camp and oversee the battlefield in preparation for tomorrow’s meeting with Ayar Manco.

I only made it to the window before I had to pull back.

I sensed invisible barriers surrounding my roving palace; moats of vile magic caked with blood and murder. I heard the quiet wail of souls trapped on the threshold between this world and the next. A spirit-shield crafted with exquisite torment protected my prison, and I sensed further layers beyond.

I thought Sugey’s monstrous predations only meant to motivate her men to further bloodshed, but I’d forgotten that the Bird of War remained a cold-hearted and practical general; such warlords did not waste any resources. There was power to be found in sacrifice, whether consensual or not, and the malice of the dead endured beyond their final breaths.

The very Sapa warriors who fought to protect their land in life were now bound to protect their enemies in death.

No wonder Sugey felt so confident that the Sapa couldn’t do anything to her. She had shielded our camp behind so many layers of magical barriers that I doubted even Mother could slip through them undetected. I wondered if Inkarri used me as his earthquake magic’s epicenter because these protections prevented him from striking at my army directly.

These barriers were unfortunately akin to a spider’s web; touching a strand would alert the crafter that something was wrong. Unlike the palace’s wards, which allowed an emperor through, these spells wouldn’t let me through easily. My magic had grown too strong and my essence too heavy with divinity for subtlety. My mood worsened as I watched the night sky from a window.

For the first time in a very long while, I’d been denied the right to fly.

I couldn’t even visit the Underworld to find respite there. The Third Layer’s horrors matched and even trumped the Nightlords’ relentless brutality in their depravity, but I could at least wield my sorcery to its fullest extent there. I could be myself, truly and wholly, without compromise; and that small pleasure was now denied to me.

The best I could do for now was to observe the world through skulls like my predecessors; something which they’d likely grown bored with a long time ago. Even if I could cast spells through them, I couldn’t afford the risk of letting the Nightlords notice that I could spread my influence through them yet. I required more practice first.

All this power at my fingertip, and I still couldn’t exercise it as I wished to.

I spent a good hour or so trying to find out a flaw in Sugey’s magical protections, and failed utterly. My soul returned to my sleeping body in a worse mood than I left it. I now understood how caged birds felt when they were denied the right to fly away.

I needed a breath of fresh air, so I pretended to wake up and exited the imperial bed. Necahual and Zyanya at least slept soundly. I envied them for that small pleasure as I left for my roving palace’s balcony. I walked there under the moon’s pale glow and faced the wind brushing on my skin. The night was eerily silent, the screams and weeping silenced with utter brutality.

The silence provided me no comfort.

I was trying to clear my thoughts when I sensed movement near me. I peeked over my shoulder to see a figure whose golden skin glimmered in the faint moonlight.

“Your Majesty,” Aclla greeted me with a bow. She came to me dressed in a skirt reaching out to her ankles and bound by a braided waistband. “My apologies for startling you. I believed you to be asleep.”

“You did not startle me, Aclla,” I replied calmly. I immediately had a strange feeling about her, though I couldn’t put a finger on it. Something about her posture seemed tenser than usual. Did she learn what her fellow Sapa women went through? “Did you come to clear your mind too?”

“In a way.” Aclla calmly walked up to the balcony and joined me along the arm rail. She stared at the night sky. “I came to pray.”

To report to your hidden masters, you mean? “Not to our gods, I’d assume.”

Aclla smiled sweetly, though I could tell she forced herself to. “I have begun to offer prayers to Yohuachanca’s goddesses, but Mama Killa always favored me; thus I must honor her first.”

“Mama Killa?” The name didn’t ring a bell, though I knew the word ‘Mama’ referred to mothers in the Sapa language. “Is this a moon goddess of some kind?”

“Indeed,” Aclla confirmed, her golden hands joining together. “Mama Killa is the mother of mankind, wife to the sun, and protector of women. She watches over us all from her realm in the sky.”

Your teachers mislead you, Aclla. There is no goddess on the moon, and no one upstairs gazes upon us with kindness. I’d heard from Queen Mictecacihuatl that the god Tecciztecatl had turned into the moon after failing to become a sun, and if he had any interest in protecting women, he would have intervened to save her countrymen from being raped and murdered.

“You should pray to a god who will answer your prayers,” I said with some bitterness.

“And which god would that be, Your Majesty?” Aclla gave me a pointed look. “Yours only accept blood, and I have little to give.”

Her comment sounded innocent enough, but I could sense a slight undercurrent of disdain beneath each and every word. It was a diplomat’s art to make dripping venom sound sweeter than honey.

I almost opened my mouth to lie and praise the Nightlords, but I couldn’t find it in myself the strength to flatter Sugey after what she did. Every fiber of my being refused to play along this time.

Another idea came to mind instead; half a taunt and half a statement.

“Cizin,” I replied while suppressing a smile. “You should pray to Cizin.”

“Cizin?” Aclla frowned at me. “I do not know this god.”

“He is the Fear of the Gods, he who arises from the Underworld to bring the heavens’ wrath on those who commit evil.” A fate that would hopefully befall the Nightlords soon enough. “I pray to him now and then.”

“A god of justice and revenge.” Aclla chuckled lightly. “A deity worth following then.”

I knew that she only spoke those words to indulge me, but they struck a chord in me all the same. My eyes widened slightly as an idea crossed my mind, bold and fantastical.

It was right in front of me all along, I thought, a chill traveling down my spine the more I considered this new possibility. I focused on the wrong name!

I had tried my best to shed my image as a warmongering emperor and show mercy to my enemies in order to tame the evil within me, but those efforts were doomed from the start. Iztac Ce Ehecatl would always inspire fear and loathing so long as the Nightlords forced me to partake in their atrocities. That name would never shed those chains.

But Cizin?

Cizin could become a god worth worshiping. This cursed name I’d been crowned with could go on to inspire hope that the likes of the Nightlords would eventually face justice for their crime, that the gods often answered prayers for relief, and that someone upstairs cared. I could turn this mark of shame into one of pride and take my destiny into my own hands.

More than that, I could bring people the same comfort Father gave me in my darkest times: hope.

How should I proceed? My burgeoning divinity relied on the perception of others, and the name of Iztac Ce Ehecatl carried great weight across the land. For Cizin to overshadow it would require great and epic feats. I need grandiose spectacles the likes of which will awe thousands.

I needed miracles.

A Word of mine had summoned the rain, and I could cast spells in the waking world without alerting the Nightlords to my true nature through my Legion of skulls. So many options suddenly opened to me.

“If I may ask,” Aclla said, her voice drawing me out of my thoughts. “Whose death is Your Majesty praying for?”

I realized I hadn’t spoken in a while and that Aclla had been observing me since. That strange intuition that something wasn’t quite right returned again. I forced myself to focus on her again and to pay close attention.

“Why the question?” I asked back.

“One does not pray to a god of justice and revenge for a fertile harvest or peace,” Aclla pointed out. “I am merely curious who earned a Godspeaker’s ire.”

A naked lie. This was no mere curiosity. Aclla—or her master, whoever they truly were—wished to learn which string to pull. I still hadn’t entirely figured out which side she served.

Mother said that Manco was chosen ahead of his brother because the Mallquis deemed him more malleable. Aclla’s behavior made a lot more sense if Cachi resented his empire’s puppetmasters as much as I resented mine, or at least sought to both ruin his brother and secure his own ascendency. However, this remained mere speculation until I could set up a meeting with Cachi and meet the man directly. Aclla could put us in contact, but I suspected her master wouldn’t show up unless he was convinced that we shared the same goals. Neither party trusted the other to provide accurate information, so we could only work on assumptions.

Hinting that I wished to destroy the Nightlords might help secure an alliance with their enemies… but I had no guarantee that Cachi was among their numbers. He could be hoping to betray his brother and the Mallquis to secure his own fief for all I knew, the same way Chikal saved her city by betraying its sister Balam. I was walking on eggshells.

I decided to err on the side of caution.

“Enemies which are beyond my reach for now,” I replied evasively. “Perhaps I will tell you more once we grow closer.”

Aclla nodded slowly in quiet acceptance, and I immediately knew I had failed a test of some kind. She showed no outward change in expression, but her body language subtly shifted like that of a warrior preparing themselves for battle.

“I cannot say that I can bring a god’s wrath upon Your Majesty’s enemies…” Aclla’s hand rested against mine on the arm rail. “But I would like to grow closer to you, if you will allow me.”

Her skin was warm, but I recognized the tension in her fingers. I’d felt it in my bones so many times whenever I plotted a bold plan whose failure would carry heavy consequences. Aclla had been very subtle so far, sticking to observation for days on end. This unsubtle attempt at seduction was too quick, too bold, and too clumsy to be natural.

She had received an order of some kind, one she resented or feared going through with. I had a pretty good idea what kind.

Aclla was going to try and take my life.