The servant’s hands
passed the oils through Huemac’s hair with the usual tense delicacy. Huemac
struggled to keep his impatience a secret to his waiting staff. Finally
finished, another servant placed a luxurious robe over the lord’s shoulders,
soon followed by a headpiece of pressed gold squares. Huemac stood and adjusted
the robe around him. He felt eager, too eager to bother with all the
formalities of stately dress. It was night outside and the messenger from
Momotzli had told him that his guests had arrived some time ago. However, as
eager as he was, he wouldn’t dare show it to his waiting captive.
Waving his servants away Huemac
walked from his dressing room towards the hall where everyone waited. Ahead of
him he could hear his runners shouting his approach, moving anyone careless
enough to be in the way. Huemac felt his heart begin to purr like an animal as
he continued on his way. Stopping just outside the entrance to the hall the
lord of the city was joined by the High Priest, Momotzli.
“Are you well my lord...?” the
priest asked.
“Of course.” Huemac tightened up,
guessing some kind of anxiety was leaking out from somewhere within
himself. “Have you seen them?”
“Not yet.”
Huemac nodded, finding himself
standing idle as he waited for Momotzli to go inside. After a small moment the
High Priest silently acquiesced and turned to enter the hall. Huemac followed
behind with his head raised high and chest full. He took his seat beside
Zyanya, who was gazing endlessly above her. As the lord took his seat the young
queen regarded him with a lazy smile.
“How much longer must we wait for
the High Priest’s surprise? It’s getting late... my lord.”
Huemac ignored her. “You,” he
called to a servant. “I am ready, bring them.” As the servant ran to the other
end of the hall Huemac felt his hands become clammy and moist. The answers to
his suffering were behind those doors at the end of the hall. He called to
Momotzli, “Stand here, I wish to share this with my High Priest.” Momotzli
stood between the seats of Huemac and Zyanya. The young queen only shrugged and
propped her head on her hands in wait.
The fires in the hall had never
appeared so bright to Huemac as the door at the entrance opened. The shadows on
the walls waved in honour of Yaotl as the giant of a man stepped forward, skin
still dirty with travel. Behind the warrior trailed a limping and sorry looking
prisoner whose head was isolated above the wooden noose around his neck. Necalli looked a sorry state. Huemac could
still remember the formerly honourable warrior standing tall at the front of
battle. But now he seemed like a man broken by a life of useless living -a life
away from the luxury of sacrifice to the gods.
Yaotl finally stood before the
throne of lord Huemac and bowed deeply. “My lord... “ he then turned to the
High Priest, “Father. I have done as required and brought the betrayer.” Yaotl
silently stepped aside and let the throne room look at the captured man.
“And where is the child?” Huemac
anxiously asked.
A servant came forward, carrying
something wrapped in cloth. Kneeling before the throne he presented Tenoch.
Huemac at last truly felt the destiny of the moment. He turned to his priest,
“Is this truly the son of Necalli...?”
Momotzli stepped forward, taking
Tenoch from the servant. The High Priest inspected the boy like livestock,
turning him over with callous hand and eye. “This is my brother’s son -
Tenoch.” The High Priest handed the boy back to the servant with little
compassion.
Huemac turned to Zyanya, but his
young wife seemed unable to remove her eyes from Tenoch’s twisted body. “This
boy is why you are without child, and why this city still lives in fear of the
empire,” the excited ruler said. “Have you ever seen anything like it...?”
Zyanya for once seemed lost for
words, “Is that child in pain...?”
Huemac laughed, “Child? This
cursed boy is older than you! I don’t
know if he is in pain, and I don’t care – don’t ask such silly questions.”
Standing from his throne Huemac walked past Tenoch with only a sneer, pausing
before the captured Necalli. “It has truly been a long time. Tell me why you
broke our agreement... why you saw fit to break the covenant that kept us safe,
that protected us...? Tell me, was she worth it? Were her breasts that
irresistible?”
Necalli looked up at the lord
from behind a bruised and swollen eye, and gave a bloody and toothless grin.
“If I must tell you the truth... they were simply the best pair I ever laid
eyes on – perfect!”
Huemac felt like he could have
laughed, and admired that even after so much, Necalli still had a sense of
humour. “I was always very fond of you Necalli, but now you’ve put my city at
risk. The people must have an heir.”
“Well maybe if you were more fond
of women than you were of me there wouldn’t be a problem... I mean your young
bride over there looks desperate for a good pounding...” Necalli was
interrupted by Huemac’s hand striking across his mouth.
“Don’t
test my kindness!”
Slowly recovering from the blow,
Necalli met Huemac in the eye, “Then I will test your honour. Let Tenoch go. I
offer myself in his place, after all it was my blade that started this.”
Momotzli interjected as suddenly
as a clap of thunder, “It is not a question of honour - it is about what is
right! You began this curse, and you caused it to continue with your weakness.
Tenoch is the result. It is his blood that Huitzilopochtli will drink.”
“Huitzilopochtli drinks nothing
but your fear,” Necalli sneered.
“And do you not fear
Huitzilopochtli? Have you lost so much of your sense in these long years?”
Momotzli scowled as though he could have bitten his brother’s face off.
Necalli calmly showed off his
toothless smile, “You will understand that whatever happens will happen. There
is only the will of Teotl. Nothing to fear, it is just something to accept.”
Momotzli grabbed his brother by
the hair, dragging his face up to his, “Then will you accept that your son will
be sacrificed? His blood let to flow for Huitzilopochtli’s contentment! Will
you accept that you have consigned me to turning blood? Or this city to be
without heir? Because I would not – I could not!” Momotzli looked as though he
was about to do more, but after a moment of ration threw his brother’s head
back. “I would long to hurt you, like the way you have hurt me, and the people
of this city. But I have grown beyond rage... Tenoch will be prepared and
sacrificed. This our way, the way of our ancestors and the way the gods have
decreed for us. I will say no more.”
The hall fell slowly silent as
the High Priest’s words finished their last echoes. Huemac stepped forward
again, unsure of what he might say, but keen to have the last word before
ordering Necalli to be taken away. It was then that the hall was interrupted
with a calamitous servant stumbling his way forward. He brought with him a
mortal urgency and a distant reverberation of painful cries.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Huemac hissed.
The servant tripped and rolled
further forward, obviously in discomfort as he clutched his stomach. Before he
could get any closer, Yaotl sprung forward to put a stop to his advance. The
servant immediately cried in pain. “My lord... my lord! He demands his brother
and father...”
“Who?” Huemac glared a blank hole
into the wounded servants face.
“He never said his name... he
arrived not long ago... we asked him to leave... but he attacked us. Too many
of the warriors have gone with the captives, we couldn’t call for help.”
“How many did he bring?” Huemac
asked, erroneously letting his anxiety show. Would the empire have brought an
army so soon? – if so there would be no way he could mobilise his troops.
“Yaotl, ready what men you have, call anyone old enough to bear sword. It seems
the Emperor has finally decided to remove me.”
“Wait...” the servant groaned.
“There is no army. There is only a boy... a possessed child...!”
Without even the time to react
Huemac found himself being shoved backwards by Yaotl. The hall grew into a
melting pot of noise as the sound of conflict busted its way through along with
its crimson colour. Breastplates and weapons were smashed, and men fell to the
floor mingled with limbs and mortal screams.
Warriors backed into the hall,
defending themselves from vicious sword swings. The storm at the front of the
attack had no face. It glared through a mask of drying blood as it moved with
the sole purpose of killing. Huemac watched in horror as the defending warriors
were cut down in mere moments, the last shooting blood across the hall as his
jugular was smashed open.
There was no calm in the eye of
the storm as its gaze fell on the shocked ruler. It came forward suddenly as if
to remove the head of the snake. Yaotl sprung almost from nowhere to halt the
attack. Huemac looked around to find
Momotzli had already ushered Zyanya and the cursed child to the rear of the
hall. The sword clashes grew closer as Huemac turned to see Yaotl on the back
foot. It was astonishing – the blood stained intruder fought as though he were
twice the size of the giant warrior. Huemac barely had time to think if the
renowned warrior would survive, before he came to another realisation.
Pulling the chin of Necalli up,
he pressed his dagger against the captured man’s throat. “Stop!” The lord
bellowed. “Stop or I will carve this man’s throat out!”
There was one last almighty clash
of swords before the intruder stepped back, his fearsome aura broken by the
look of concern under the blood stained facade. And it was through the dried
blood and raging eyes that lord Huemac could see this sudden intruder was only
barely a man in age. Pressing the dagger deep enough to break the skin on
Necalli’s throat, Huemac demanded, “Boy, speak your name and your reason for
intruding into my palace and rendering your life forfeit?”
The boy stepped away from Yaotl,
taking brazen strides towards Huemac, only halting when the Emperor’s vassal
tightened his grip on the dagger to Necalli’s throat. The boy spoke without even
a blink. “My name is Itzli. And you have my father and brother. Return them to
me or – “
“Enough!” Huemac snapped. “You
have no place to make demands of me. You are the son of a deserter, a traitor.
Your once glorious family name is now only carried by your uncle, my High
Priest, Momotzli. How dare you attack me and my people, and for this man...?”
Huemac pressed the dagger deeper against Necalli. “Do you even know what he has
done to me, and your uncle, this father of yours? You would not have known that
this city has been devoid of heir, while your uncle has been given the curse of
foul blood. Your father broke the agreement that kept us in health. He knew the
consequences.”
A party of thirteen warriors at
last arrived in full battle garb, stepping over their dead and dying comrades
to surround Itzli. The giant Yaotl was handed a club, and with it stood between
Huemac and the wild boy. “And what are these consequences?” The boy growled.
“For my brother to be sacrificed, my father murdered? Because I make a covenant
with you here, Huemac – I will see you made the lord of piss and shit in
Mitclan if that ever comes to be.”
Huemac laughed and drew his
dagger back, poising himself to delve the blade into Necalli. The boy tried to
surge, but now surrounded, he was held. Yaotl swung the broad end of his club
deep into Itzli’s gut. “Bind him,” Huemac ordered.
While being suppressed by Yaotl’s
violent swings, the boy was finally subdued. Huemac smiled as he brought the
boy’s father before him. Taking his dagger, and without a moment of hesitation
he peeled Necalli’s ear off the side of his head. Both father and son screamed
as though their pain was shared.
Huemac let the traitor Necalli
fall awkwardly back on his bound arms, while he knelt before the viciously
lashing youth, Itzli. “Your words are hollow. Your life, like your brother and
father’s are now mine. You may not fear me, but you will fear what I am capable
of.”
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