Beautiful Salvation (13 page)

Before Aiyana could throw herself out of the way again,
Achiyalatopa’s
body rocked violently to the side, causing the creature to stumble off balance. Aiyana dug her claws even deeper to keep her grip. She peered around the bird’s body and noticed that Saamal had followed her lead, had landed in half-jaguar form on the bird’s opposite flank. Together they crawled to where the being’s wings met its body, digging their claws in and gouging the flesh until the massive wings drooped uselessly at the bird’s sides, muscles and tendons too damaged for it to raise its feathered limbs.
Achiyalatopa
shrieked in rage, blood flying from its body in heated drops as it thrashed around in helpless fury.

“Without its wings, it is no threat to us,” Saamal shouted.

Aiyana nodded, her head spinning with the euphoria of battle. She crouched on the creature’s body and launched herself out with one powerful thrust of her legs, landing on her feet several meters away. Saamal landed next to her in a blur of fur and claws, the scent of blood moving with him like cologne.

A laugh trickled out of Aiyana’s throat as she crouched there, breathing heavily, her system still thick with adrenaline. Saamal grinned at her, a flash of sharp white teeth, and inclined his head in the direction of the shadows of the forest away from the bird. She offered him her own predatory smile, and together they took off.

They ran like the river rushing through its bed as it surged around mountains and down deep slopes, flowing in a thunderous cacophony of power. The trees leaned out of their way, bowing to them, roots dipping so as not to trip them. Joy rose and filled Aiyana’s heart. She was outside, running, free. She was alive.

They were both laughing by the time they stopped, the wild laughter that came from exhilaration instead of humor. Sometime during their run, they had each shed the fur of their jaguar form. For a moment, Aiyana just looked at Saamal. It seemed like a weight had been lifted from his back, giving her the first real glimpse of the man who claimed to be the Black God. Saamal’s sable hair shone in the moonlight streaming through the leaves, and the lines around his eyes were crinkled with his laughter. His dark eyes glinted like polished obsidian and the muscles on his arms stood out in shadows where his arm was raised, resting on the rough bark of a tree.

“Such a fierce queen you will be.” A smile still teased his lips, his voice betraying no breathlessness from their mad dash. “You are everything I never dared to dream you would be.”

Aiyana was startled as she realized that she was not out of breath either. “I feel more alive tonight then I have for as long as I can remember. Even though I’ve always been afraid of what the power inside me wanted to do, part of me has always wanted to get away from the palace, from my guards. I wanted to let it go, just once.”

“The power inside you is no more dangerous than a spear,” Saamal told her.

He stepped closer, taking her hands in his, raising them to hold them against his chest. The warmth of his body permeated his torn tunic, and his heartbeat pulsed gently against her hands where he held them to his muscled chest. Aiyana stared at their hands clasped together, joined. The connection between them thrummed and she slowly raised her eyes to meet his, entranced by his nearness and a burgeoning sense of belonging…

“A spear in the hands of a madman can bring about suffering and destruction, but in the hands of a true king—or queen—a spear means protection for a kingdom’s people and the ability to provide for them.”

“It can also mean having one’s heart carved from one’s chest while being held down on the altar to a god you don’t believe in.”

Aiyana pulled away from Saamal as the ghost’s voice thrust between them like a physical wall. The ghost floated in the air beside them, as if he’d materialized there from thin air. Aiyana swore she could hear the clink of his golden chainmail shifting as he moved, see the feathers of his headdress sway in the wind. Her eyes fell to the thick mess of scars on his chest. Unease rolled through her stomach as she was reminded of the conversation they’d been having before the monster had interrupted. The pain that flashed across Saamal’s face as she turned away from him to face the ghost brought an ache to Aiyana’s heart. She shoved the feeling away and faced the ghost.

“You called yourself the ‘unwilling sacrifice.’” Aiyana offered Tenoch what she hoped was an encouraging nod despite the sour feeling in her stomach.

“Yes.” Tenoch’s expression darkened, his eyes on a point in the distance. “I was a captive, claimed as a spoil of war.” He blinked and glared daggers at Saamal. “One of
many
wars that the Black God believed were so necessary for keeping his people strong.” He brought his attention back to Aiyana, his face still twisted with anger, but with no malice aimed at her. “My new ‘master’ offered me up as a candidate to be the
ixiptla
.”

The bitter taste of bile rose to the back of Aiyana’s throat and she took a slow breath through her nose to calm her stomach. “The
ixiptla,
” she murmured. “The sacrifice that was dressed as the Black God.” She took in his ceremonial garb, every piece of gold now shining at her like an accusation.

“The priests tried to make it sound like an
honor
.” Tenoch spat on the ground, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Live like a god for a full year—then have your heart cut out and your flayed skin worn by next year’s sacrifice! I told them I would have no part in it, but one of the priests claimed I had no choice. I was too perfect, too handsome. The sacrifice had to be chosen among the prisoners of war that were available and none of the other men possessed the qualities necessary to represent their god. To choose any other man as the
ixiptla
would be an insult, he claimed.” He faltered, swallowing hard. “And so I was kept.” He glared at Saamal as if he could kill him with only his stare. “Don’t you dare speak of civic duty and sacrifices lining up to die for their people. Your barbarism does not deserve such a pretty face.”

Aiyana waited for Saamal to defend himself, needing him to defend himself. He remained silent, sadness etched in the lines of his face and all traces of his earlier humor gone.

“Do you have anything to say?” she asked quietly. She started to step closer to him, then remembered that the connection between them grew stronger the closer they were. She wavered on her feet for a moment and settled back as she had been.

Saamal’s face fell further. He shook his head slowly. “You will be queen someday, Aiyana. I have told you my side, given you my perspective on what is done for our people and our land. Tenoch is entitled to be heard as well, and now you have his story.” He met Tenoch’s eyes. “I have no excuse for what was done to you, no defense. It should not have happened, and after I found out what had happened, the priest who was responsible for ignoring your refusal gave his own life to make amends. I am only sorry it is beyond my power to give back to you what was taken.”

“My life!” Tenoch shouted.

The skin around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “Yes.” He faced Aiyana. “You have all the information I have to give you. It is for you to decide how to proceed.”

Aiyana blinked at him, shocked to her very core. “You—a god—would stand there and be judged. You would listen to what is blasphemy to your ears and…wait for me to form an opinion? You would stand there while I go to the fairy and give up half your power—forever?”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Saamal’s mouth. “A century ago it would not have been so,” he admitted. “Back then I was much more…determined, in my pursuit of what was right, more unforgiving to those I believed violated our people or our laws.” He glanced at Tenoch. “Perhaps you would like to tell Aiyana about the rest of the prophecy you seem so educated on?”

Tenoch grew sullen, fading until he was little more than a light mist, until his features were nearly impossible to make out. He crossed his arms and huddled in on himself, sulking like a child. Aiyana stepped closer to him, hope rising in her chest.

“Well?” she demanded. “Is there information you’re keeping from me?”

For several minutes the ghost remained silent, his form flickering, threatening to fade away completely. Aiyana’s heart pounded, her mind running wild thinking of what the prophecy might have announced that would ease the accusations standing against Saamal. Just as Aiyana was starting to believe he would never answer, and was about to whirl around and demand Saamal tell her what he knew, the ghost sighed.

“The prophecy said that you would soothe the Black God, that with you as his wife, the Lord of Near and Nigh would find
balan
ce.”

“Balance? I don’t understand. How? What am I supposed to do?”

Saamal shifted on his feet. “Since sharing my power with you, I have lacked the strength to handle things in the fashion I had become accustomed.”

“He means he wasn’t the strongest being alive anymore and he couldn’t simply destroy anyone who disagreed with him,” Tenoch interrupted viciously.

“Let him speak.” Aiyana shot him a stern look, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You had your time to talk, allow him his.”

“No, he is correct,” Saamal admitted. “My enemies are very powerful, and without my full powers, I am no match for them. I was forced to retreat, to maintain a low profile and concentrate what power I had on what was most important. For several decades, I searched for more power, for a way to bolster myself until such time that I would be strong enough once again to face those who wished to see me destroyed.” Saamal tilted his head, his eyes seeming to stare at something far away. “I found no such power, but perhaps something better. I was among my people, truly among my people, in a way I had not been in the past. I heard them, saw the day to day experience of their lives. I learned patience, a virtue I would never have been accused of possessing when I had my full abilities. I cannot bend the wind to my will, but I can listen to what it says. I cannot look into the polished obsidian of my mirror and see the future, but I can follow the instinct inside me that guides me to be at the right place at the right time.” He shook his head, his gaze clearing again. “I am more in tune to the land and my people than I have ever been, and I have you to thank for that.”

“And how long will that last if Aiyana marries you and you have all that power back?” the ghost demanded. “How long until you go back to using brute force to make the world as you want it, to make your people what you want them to be?”

“I cannot judge him for what has not happened yet.” The words were out of Aiyana’s mouth before she realized she intended to say them. She glanced at Saamal, her breath catching at the bemused quirk of his eyebrow. She tamped down on the sudden urge to go to him, to press against him until the connection between them thrummed with life. This was not the time.

“I cannot predict the future—anymore. But I will never forget the lessons this century has taught me.”

Saamal’s eyes darkened and he studied her with an intensity that raised goosebumps on her flesh.

“I will never forget you,” he said softly.

Aiyana gripped the edges of her cloak, holding on to the familiar material, grounding herself. She was confused by her own emotions, by everything she’d learned in such a short time. “You are nothing like I was told.”

“I am nothing like I was.” Saamal ran a hand through his hair. “I truly believed that I knew what was best for my people, and I did what was best for my people no matter what the cost. Perhaps the power I had did blind me. I was so busy doing what was best for my people that I didn’t see the effect my actions had on individuals.” He snorted. “That may have been my greatest mistake when I planned our marriage. The prophecy convinced me that marrying you would bring me more power. In my mind, that meant more power for our people, more power for our land. It was the right thing to do, and so I bade it happen. Perhaps if I had been more considerate of individuals, if I had approached your parents as any other suitor would have, with respect and humility…” His voice grew thick and his attention fell to the ground. “Perhaps they would not have hated me so much that they turned their back on me, on Cipactli. Perhaps they wouldn’t have tried so hard to poison you against me.”

“You’ve gone a long way in repairing my impression of you.” Aiyana stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I appreciate that you’ve been honest with me, that you want me to make my own decision.”