Blood & Fur

Chapter One Hundred-and-Three: Brighter than Gold

True to her word, Killa secured us entrance into the Sapa capital. The generals manning Fort Saskay preferred to stand down rather than risk the death of their Emperor, since unlike me, Manco would only rise from the grave as a monster hungry for the blood of the living.

I feared we would have to keep my roaming palace outside the city’s outer walls, but the stone gates of Fort Saskay proved large enough to let it through. I knew for a fact that the Sapa Empire lacked beasts of burden rivaling our longnecks, so I supposed the sheer size of their citadel was meant to impress locals and visitors alike with its strength.

However, there remained the issue of our introduction. A large force remained to defend the capital on top of its vast population, and we would find ourselves outnumbered the moment we walked past the front gates. We had to secure more than just safe passage.

We needed to enter this city as friends of the population, not enemies. Ingrid predicted that anything short of that would result in a riot or an attack of some kind, which left us with one major option.

“I will not do it,” Ayar Manco said in the Sapa tongue.

I contained my annoyance as I stared at our captive. Ingrid and Empress Killa had immediately asked for a meeting upon returning from the fort, so I’d invited them, Manco, and my other consorts to discuss our plan in the council room. My consort and her Sapa counterpart had created a plan that ought to reassure the populace, defuse an armed conflict, and affirm our control over the capital.

Unfortunately, Ayar Manco didn’t sound interested in playing along.

“This is for the best, husband,” Empress Killa argued with him in the Sapa tongue, which I now understood. “Your brother will pay for his betrayal and your throne will be secured.”

Ayar Manco sneered in disdain. “I will not be paraded like a puppet on a stage.”

“All they will see is a captive dancing to your master’s tune, woman,” Ayar Manco argued back. “You would have me betray our own ancestors and make an attack on the very foundations of our nation. I will not abide by it.”

“You are in no position to make any demands, Manco,” I replied sharply. Especially not when the alternative risked endangering countless thousands. “You will abide, or you will die.”

Both Ayar Manco and his wife suddenly froze in place, for I had addressed them in the Sapa tongue for the first time. I immediately followed their confusion by presenting a ghastlier alternative to this puppet emperor’s cooperation.

“One of my consorts is a skinwalker, Manco,” I said in the Sapa tongue. “Do you know what skinwalkers do?”

Ayar Manco clenched his jaw, but kept his mouth shut. I took it as an invitation to teach him a lesson and turned to address Eztli in Yohuachancan.

“Can you show Lord Manco,” I said, stressing the lord part to remind the puppet emperor that I didn’t consider him my equal, “how to play a role?”

“But of course.” Eztli smiled and shapeshifted in front of the Sapa imperial couple, her hair and face rearranging into that of a man none of us recognized. Even her voice changed when she opened her mouth. “Must I sing as well?”

I glanced at Manco, who had paled slightly. The message had been sent.

“No, that will be enough,” I told Eztli in Yohuachancan, and then switched to the Sapa language for the next two words. “For now.”

Eztli abandoned her fake skin like a snake shed its scales, an action which unsettled both my guests and consorts. This neatly served to drive the point across.

“You seem to be under the misconception that I need you alive, Manco,” I said in the Sapa tongue, so that his wife could understand my words. “You are mistaken. I only need your face, voice, and name. Everything else is…” I took a deep breath for emphasis. “Superfluous.”

“Are you threatening me?” Manco replied with an unwavering tone.

“Yes, I am,” I replied flatly. I had already given him far more leeway than a man in his position ought to deserve. “Do not mistake my mercy for weakness, Manco. You said yourself that a man’s value in your culture is determined by its utility to the state. If you are unable to prove yours, then you will be replaced by someone better suited for the role.”

The old me would have probably gone through with this plan first instead of any kinder option, but as much as I disliked Manco’s ideology, I didn’t think he deserved death. However much his indifference towards what happened to Aclla was condemnable, he remained little more than a puppet for the Mallquis. I would be happy to see him retire peacefully after stripping him of his power. Moreover, using a fake carried the risk of discovery in a magically inclined society. It wouldn’t suit us to have the likes of the Mallquis questioning our narrative.

So I would rather avoid murder if possible.

If.

Thankfully, Ayar Manco had come to fear me enough to take me at my word. He submitted with a nod. “Fine.”

“Wise,” I replied before dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “We will have you dressed as befitting your office.”

Ayar Manco left the room with what little dignity he had left. His wife lingered behind, however, her eyes squinting at me. “Why pretend not to speak the Sapa tongue when we first met, Emperor Iztac?”

“I was testing you,” I lied through my teeth, having only learned the language one night ago.

She marked a short pause before answering. “Did I pass?”

“True tests never end, Killa.” Uncertainty always had a way of gnawing at the soul and leaving us vulnerable. I knew that from experience. “Ingrid will see to your needs.”

The empress nodded quicker than her husband did, with Ingrid taking her outside to prepare for the ceremony. Nenetl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Is this truly necessary, Iztac?” she asked. “We’ll need to spill blood again.”

“We won’t,” Eztli replied with a shrug. “The blood will be on them.”

“It was the empress’ price for cooperating,” Chikal said. “Either we take some lives or we’ll have to take them all. The situation is volatile enough as it is.”

I nodded sharply. The putrid face made of smiling corpses from earlier continued to haunt the back of my mind. We had to keep casualties to a minimum even if it meant making some compromises, as each death fueled the true enemy.

I’d learned from Killa one very important piece of information: namely, that much like Yohuachancans, the Sapa preferred to keep their dead intact since they venerated their ancestors. Whether they turned into Mallquis or not, families preserved mummified corpses as totems of good luck and protection.

This culture of respect, while admirable, likely put the Sapa in a difficult position when the First Emperor’s will drove the dead to attack the living and likely explained the dam of flesh blocking the river earlier. Since burning the dead was anathema and keeping them in the city presented the risk of them rising from their graves to devour the living, the people of the capital chose to dispose of the corpses by dumping them into the currents.

So not only would I have to justify how I burned them, but I would also need to convince the Sapa to follow my lead and do the same from now on. I failed to see how I could achieve that without their imperial leaders’ cooperation.

Nothing short of a memorable spectacle would do the trick.

Mother walked into my council room soon after. She had taken to wearing a small scarf now; partly because of the chilling cold of the mountains, and mostly not to tempt my thirst. It saddened me to see that she thought she required that protection, though I couldn’t blame her. At least the thirst diminished in the sunlight where the First Emperor held no sway.

“They are gone,” she said.

“Are you sure?” I insisted. Empress Killa and Ingrid reported as much, but I struggled to believe it.

“The Mallquis have left the city,” Mother confirmed. “I can not sense their foul presence maintaining the capital’s defensive spells. The wards themselves have been made so weak by the chaos you could easily tear them to shreds.”

Chikal crossed her arms. “This fits the information we intercepted, but still… to abandon the capital and leave it in the hands of living generals is a baffling move.”

“Perhaps the populace flushed them down the river with the other corpses?” Eztli suggested. “That, or our quick advance spooked them.”

“It’s possible,” I conceded. I had bested Inkarri, defied all odds, slain a Nightlord, and captured their emperor. Adding that to the plague of undead rising all across their lands, and the Mallquis could have credibly chosen to flee and regroup rather than face me unprepared. Funny how those who had kept death at bay the longest feared it the most. “However, I fear this is more of a tactical retreat than a rout.”

“I think so too,” Chikal said. “They have more than enough troops to retake the capital while we lack the men to hold it. They can besiege us at their leisure.”

“That, or they went to Paititi,” Mother said with a deep frown. “The more sorcerers partake in a ritual, the higher its chances of success.”

I nodded sharply. That sounded like the most likely explanation to me. Whatever Inkarri was doing in Paititi required both immense magical resources and promised a great enough reward to entice the Mallquis to abandon their own capital. This meant that the ritual would have drastic consequences and that our foes believed it would turn the tide of the conflict.

We would have to give chase the moment we stabilized the capital.

Hananpacha lived up to its reputation.

The city wasn’t as large as Yohuachanca’s own capital—no other city in the living world came close to rivaling it in size—but large enough that tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, called it home. A vast city stretched ahead of us once we passed Fort Saskay’s three sets of walls.

Chikal had called it the Lion City—I knew those animals were cousins of the jaguar with long blade-like teeth that preferred to live in caves; I think I spotted one in my menagerie once, and golden statues of the animal decorated some of Hananpacha—for its shape, and it indeed fit nicely. The crossing rivers where the Sapa dumped their corpses flowed from the south like a set of tails, while an immense marketplace rivaling that of our own back in the capital served as the center of everything. Great temples, pyramids, and palaces flanked streets in the west and east like the legs of a mighty beast. Every building was organized in four perfectly ordered districts that indicated a strong tradition of urban planning.

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This infrastructure almost made the gold look like an afterthought.

I knew the Sapa to be a wealthy people whose ambassadors proudly displayed their riches as a show of strength, but I hadn’t properly understood the depths of their treasuries until I laid eyes on rows after rows of gilded monuments. Empress Killa informed us that each ruler of a Sapa tributary was under the obligation to build a house in the capital and live part of the year there, which I assumed were many of the great, many-storied palaces looming over smaller buildings like mountains over hills.

Not all houses’ facades were so opulent—though all of them were at least made of stone rather than wood or bricks, a rarity among settlements—but enough of them were coated in gold that the streets shone brightly under the sunlight. My longneck seemed to walk along a roadway of pure light.

However, I saw signs of conflict everywhere I looked. A large part of the western district had burned down, with stoneworks crumbling into ruins and the golden facade of many temples having melted off their walls. Soldiers patrolled every street corner, and the smell of blood hung in the air.

Many had gathered to see our procession, though fewer than I would have expected considering the city’s population. Hordes of Sapa soldiers escorted my roving palace and soldiers across the grand plaza under the watch of thousands of civilians. Many whispered and pointed at my longneck rather than Ayar Manco and his empress, who waved at them from the balcony. Such great beasts like mine were unheard of in the Sapa mountains, while I guessed the population had seen many emperors travel across its streets; whatever the case, there was little to no applause to welcome us. We were welcomed with caution and suspicion rather than acclaim.

These people were no fools. They had taken heavy losses and feared the change in the air.

Nonetheless, I detected no outright hostility from them. I had the feeling that most of them had no idea who I or my armies were, the same way the people of Yohuachanca’s capital wouldn’t have been able to identify a Sapa delegation at first sight. Many miles separated Hananpacha from the border, let alone the heart of Yohuachanca. The Flower War was a remote conflict, and the news of the coastal assault had only reached the top brass of the empire’s generals. These people would have a vested interest in preventing that information from getting out in order to prevent further panic.

My troops might as well have been tributaries from their own empire or foreign visitors from another country for the common people. Seeing their own emperor seemingly well and victorious probably added to their confusion. Only the Sapa generals knew that Ayar Manco was my captive and kept the truth to themselves in order to maintain the charade that the state wasn’t in the process of collapsing utterly.

All in all, most of this city wouldn’t learn who I was until I introduced myself; which gave me a unique chance to make a good first impression.

I felt their dread in the gazes that they sent my way. I stood atop my moving palace’s roof while clad in the ossuary armor and carried by ebon wings, a supernatural figure looming higher than their own emperor. Did the Sapa see the owl as a bird of ill-omen? Did they think I was a gravedigger of empires coming to bury them all alive with their hungry dead? Whatever the case, I knew my next actions would be decisive for my future as a would-be demigod.

I’d decided to show myself to them as Cizin the Tlacatecolotl, rather than as Iztac the man; and I would soon make a show of it.

We’ve avoided an attack so far, I thought as I looked down on the Sapa soldiers escorting mine. Although we were outnumbered ten to one and the tension in the air was so thick I could cut it with a knife, they didn’t make a move to strike at us. While their generals had given them the order to let us pass, distrust ruled. But it may not last long.

My roaming palace continued its march until we reached the center of the plaza, where a group of soldiers and generals had tied a dozen men to stone pillars which I assumed were used for executions. The prisoners had been stripped of their clothes and arrayed in order of height for a reason that escaped me. I assumed that the Sapa’s obsession with order and classification showed even in these events.

Their leader, Ayar Cachi, stood among the prisoners chained and defeated.

I had no trouble recognizing him, both because I had caught a glimpse of him in Aclla’s memories and because of his familial resemblance to Manco. The two might as well be twins, although Cachi looked smaller and frailer without any imperial regalia. His face showed bruises and wounds from whatever torture his captors subjected him to once his coup had failed, yet his dark eyes glared at his brother and Killa with depths of hatred that might have matched mine once.

When death was certain, sometimes hate was all a man had left. I knew that from experience and pitied him for it. I thought this man could have been my ally; and in a different world, he might have been.

“Listen!” I uttered in the Sapa tongue with a Word of power, my voice booming across the city.

Thousands of souls, friends, and foes alike, froze in place at my command; so did the beasts of the earth and sky who called this city home as well as the rivers and stones. The entire world stopped to listen.

I felt the weight of their attention, of their awe and curiosity. I was reminded of the time I addressed my own capital as the Nightlords’ prophet and allowed the First Emperor to speak through my lips. Thousands had seen me as the emperor of death and darkness after that, and that perception shaped so many things; would today wash away that stain?

“I am Cizin, Fear of the Gods, sun-bringer and wings of justice!” I introduced myself with a thundering voice. “I come to you on behalf of the gods above and below, to right your wrongs and save the faithful! I visit you as a messenger of your ancestors who have passed into the beyond, bearing gifts and warnings!”

I had tailored my speech according to all the information I’d gathered on the Sapa. My best bet was to present myself as a messenger of the gods and their ancestors coming to deliver answers for the unexplained series of disasters striking the Sapa Empire. All men craved explanations, and beyond that, reassurance.

Already a wave of anxiety washed over me. I drank the population’s fear as they wondered whether they could themselves among the faithful or not.

“The time of mankind’s judgment has come!” I announced. “Many of your leaders have abused your trust, and in their greed brought the heavens’ wrath upon your head! A great darkness encroaches from the north, raising the dead as slaves and delaying the rise of the sun! An age of trials is upon you, where each must prove their faith and moral character in order to survive the long night ahead of you!”

I pointed a finger at Ayar Cachi and singled him out. “You, Ayar Cachi, have plotted to seize your brother’s throne as your own! You have led rebels in spilling blood on golden streets and brought chaos when your people most needed unity! Now you stand in judgment before men and gods alike!”

Cachi’s head had been Killa’s price for her assistance, and I could not afford to haggle with her over it knowing the consequences for the world at large… but I’d swore to myself that I would try to be merciful. I had to give the man a way out of his inevitable fate, or at least assess whether or not he had extenuating circumstances playing in his favor.

“Why did you do such a thing? What reason would excuse your actions?” I asked, and then followed with a Word of power. “Answer.”

He could have said so many things that would have spared his life. “I did it to free the people from their masters’ grip.” “I thought my brother was dead and had to assume command in the chaos.” “I feared for my life.” Had he said any of these things, then I might have argued for mercy. I would have cast a Veil to make it seem that the hangman’s garrote had done its work when he had only fallen unconscious or forced him into a false sleep.

If only.

“Because I deserve the throne,” Ayar Cachi answered with all the spite and vindictiveness of a spoiled brat denied his due.

I was thankful none could see my annoyance beneath my bone-mask. Time and time again, I had hoped to see people act with virtue in times of crisis, and been misled in my hopes.

Was this why the gods kept destroying the world and remaking it anew? Because no matter how hard they tried, we always managed to find new ways to disappoint them with our petty greed and wasteful ambitions? The same flaws that brought mankind’s previous incarnations low continued to endure cycle after cycle.

Then again… the gods did create us in their image. As Lord Quetzalcoatl showed, they still held hope that we could one day rise to the lofty ideals of our creators; that one day we would learn our lesson. Even the Feathered Serpent had been willing to give me another chance after everything I’d done.

If the gods had kept faith in us through everything, who was I to lose mine?

I may not be able to save this one, I thought as I assessed the group of prisoners surrounding Cachi, but the others might not be beyond my reach…

“Then you acted out of greed and ambition, for which there is no excuse!” I replied before waving my hand at Ayar Manco and his wife. “Thy fate shall be your brother’s to determine!”

Ayar Manco kept a straight face through everything, his eyes squinting at his brother. He wasn’t blind enough to see the trap laid before him.

On one hand, this parody of a trial served to somewhat reaffirm the appearance of Manco’s authority over the empire—a charade we needed until we could stabilize the situation; but on the other hand, executing his sibling in full view of his entire capital would forever shame him as a kinslayer. In time, that stain would diminish his status in the eyes of his people and thus his power.

However, he could not afford to show mercy either. His brother had plotted a coup against him and torn the capital asunder in a time of chaos. Alive, he would forever remain a threat, an alternative. Killing him would diminish Manco’s waning authority, but sparing him would destroy it.

A better man might have chosen blood over power, and mercy over retribution; but as Ayar Manco told me once, he only saw people through their usefulness to the state, and his brother had none.

“For inciting strife, the punishment is usually the mines,” Ayar Manco said, both to the people of the capital and to his own condemned brother. “For treason, it is death.”

The sentence hung in the air for a second, with the soldiers around Cachi immediately pulling a garrote around his neck before he even had a chance to curse his sibling. I had no idea whether Empress Killa and Ingrid arranged this ahead of time—both sounded likely to me—but whether improvised or planned, the execution unfolded so quickly that I could tell they were common.

Cachi’s face turned purple from the lack of air, and his last futile struggle for life ended in a span of seconds. Ayar Manco hardly spared the corpse a glance before turning his cold, unforgiving gaze at the other prisoners. “The rest of these traitors–”

“Shall be heard, like their leader!” I shouted.

Ayar Manco grew silent in his surprise, as did his empress; the former did so out of frustration, the latter out of curiosity.

I had only promised the head of Ayar Cachi to Empress Killa. The blood of his followers, however, remained mine to dispose of as I saw fit.

“Why did you fight on this man’s behalf?!” I asked the prisoners while waving a hand at Cachi. “Answer!”

My Word compelled them to answer, and through the chorus, I heard variations of the same excuse: because they thought Cachi would be the better emperor.

I guessed that made sense. The opportunists had already turned their cloak or fled, leaving only the loyal to die with their leader. It would be easier to kill these people… but my father had told me that mercy could prove stronger than retribution when wielded carefully. Their crime had been to follow an ambitious soul, and I didn’t think foolishness warranted death in most cases.

If Mother could learn from her mistakes, then anyone could. Almost anyone.

“Misplaced loyalty is a vice, not a sin!” I declared to all who would listen. “Ayar Cachi shall atone for his sins on your behalf, and his soul shall be purified! Witness!”

I channeled the flames of my Blaze through my wings until they glowed like the sun itself, their shine reflecting onto the gilded streets of Hananpacha. Many squinted and covered their eyes to shield themselves from my radiance, but all listened nonetheless.

“I am your redeemer, the light that shall guide thy path!” I said as I wove a Veil into the air. “Fear not the fire, for it is born of the sun and carries the power to repel the night! Fear not the fire, for it cleanses the evil men commit in life! Fear not the fire, for it is the gods’ very gift to you! Fear not the fire, for it alone can free the souls of the dead!”

My illusion took shape over my roaming palace in a whirlpool of ghostly, ethereal figures. My audience gasped and grew quiet as a stream of spirits seemed to swirl and rise into the sky above. These apparitions of the dead looked better than the First Emperor’s hungry corpses and Mictlan’s shambling bones, being mirages of the glory of life.

It was a trick, a mere illusion which my friend Huehuecoyotl would have been proud of; but it served its purpose. Now the Sapa would understand that burning their dead would let them rest and purify their remains from the vampire curse.

I followed through by incinerating Ayar Cachi’s remains with a pillar of holy fire. My display of divine power earned me gasps from the awed crowds, and I suspected that whatever magic the Mallquis might have pulled in the past was nowhere near as flashy as mine. The would-be emperor’s remains turned to ashes, while a golden illusion of his appeased soul arose to join with the sun in eternal rest.

“See how his soul rises, free of his sins?!” I asked the crowd. “Here is the proof that the gods haven’t abandoned you, for their salvation is still within your reach!”

The spirits of the dead appeared to give credence to my words.

I cast no spell nor hid beneath any illusion this time. My magic instead acted on its own in a way that it never did before. The false, indistinct souls I had summoned through the Veil sharpened into visages that invited gasps of recognition from the crowd. Wisps of ghostly fire popped in and out of existence across the streets, each carrying the outline of a face among their flames. I saw families kneeling in front of long-departed ancestors, parents grasping for their late children, widows weeping for their dead husbands, and soldiers facing their fallen comrades.

I couldn’t tell whether I had actually summoned the souls of the dead or simply given the living a glimpse of the spirits which inhabited Mictlan, the city of the dead, but it made little difference to the people of Hananpacha. I had pulled off a miracle which the Mallquis could never equal.

Once again, my lie had become the truth.

I was Cizin, messenger of the gods, and all would listen.