BOOK 3 - Myth Ch. 06

NORRIX

Norrix kept to shadows as much as he could, putting his hood up when he had to walk in the sun. He'd attracted some looks. Even in December and this early in the morning, it was already warm. No one else wore long sleeves and a hood, but no one stopped him. People were more frightened by the bodies being found all over the island, or more accurately, skins.

The house Myth had sent him to was empty. Fable had been here, but not recently. They hadn't brought her here when they left Iqiohr's rooms earlier. She was most likely at the pyramid with everyone else, but with the sun ought he couldn't get there easily. He went through the closets, searching for clothing that would help him fit in better. People were dressed for the ceremony. Men went bare-chested and wore tilmatlis, loincloths, and gold jewelry.

Going around mostly naked didn't bother him and his skin tone, though lighter than most, was a dark golden color that wouldn't stand out too much. "Here's hoping I remember how to tie a loincloth so it doesn't fall off." He managed it and draped a tilmatli over his shoulders, fastening it with a gold brooch at his throat.

Helping himself to a maquahuitl, he swung it in a few test strikes. The wooden club could do damage if he hit someone with the flat of it, but the sharp obsidian blades embedded into its sides made it part sword, and were more dangerous. Adding an ornate feathered mask with the same markings the representative had worn last night to his ensemble, he decided that was enough going native. The cloak covered the sides of his legs and the holsters for his guns. If he kept his arms under the cloak the sheaths on his forearms for his daggers would remain hidden. When he had to fight, it wouldn't matter if anyone saw his weapons.

Outside Norrix paced in a shadow, wishing the eclipse would begin. The impending eclipse was solar, which meant the moon would be shadowing the sun, and it would last for hours. He wouldn't burn to ash in the sun during that time. Hopefully it would be long enough to find Fable, free Myth and get out of this place, but he had a sinking feeling they wouldn't manage that before the Sixth world began.

The ahuizotls soundlessly joined him.

"You've been busy."

They looked pleased with themselves tails wagging, hands waving.

As the solar eclipse began, shadow slid over the ground, spreading to cover the streets. Norrix pulled his mask over his face, broke cover and moved towards the pyramid, accompanied by the ahuizotls. Since Myth was taken away, their bond had been filled with trepidation, and now, dread. He needed to get to her, see for himself she was fine.

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IQIOHR

Iqiohr held up the black blade, twisting it in the sunlight. The day was finally at hand. For ten millennia mages had fought for the scant magic a Mage could wield. Unlike other magics, Mage magic didn't grow if it was shared. It was finite in the world and caused Mages to fight one another, drain each other like they were no better than witches. But everything was converging to change that.

The obsidian knife emerged from its mysterious, hidden past at an auction. The full solar eclipse this afternoon would last for hours. A fitting sacrifice, full of untapped magic, would power the ritual. He'd be able to keep the portal open long enough to usher in not only gods, who had been banished or lost their power, but the Sixth Age of Aztlan. He would remake the world, and Mage magic with it.

"Esne, come with me." Iqiohr watched the witch approach him. Normally he would have had the witch dressed to match him, but the Esne didn't warrant that sort of treatment anymore.

The witch was different since it had returned from the auction. Oh, it kept its eyes on him, like always, but there was a slight edge of rebelliousness and defiance in its posture, a hint of keeping secrets from him he didn't like.

His spy reported the knife removed from the auction, and yet the Esne had returned with it. The witch had disappeared into a room the spy couldn't follow her into for hours after the auction was over and emerged with the knife. If the witch had returned unchanged he would have given the Esne its reward, but what had come back from Ashana was not his Esne any longer.

It was just a witch. If he knew for certain it wasn't carrying his son he'd throw it to his men this moment. While they weren't permitted to touch what was his, he'd seen their leers towards his Esne. He'd chosen his Esne when they were children, saved it from the fate of all the witches he'd discarded, not killed it when it bred a little witch instead of a son, taken care of it in spite of the fact that it never showed it could provide him with magic.

The witch would learn its new place today. A mere witch didn't deserve his protection, and today its reward would be its punishment.

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MYTH

Myth tried not to shudder as Iqiohr led the way from his residence, parading her through the streets. She just had to make it through a few more hours. Norrix would take her and Fable away from this place tonight. She could last a little longer.

Iqiohr turned away from the crowd often, and Myth made sure her eyes were on him, like he expected. But something was off. Instead of the dead white eyes and blank expression he typically wore, Iqiohr's lips were turned up in the smallest smile, and there was life in his eyes, like anticipation. It made her blood run cold as he led her up steep, narrow steps to the top of the pyramid.

He only brought her here to make her watch executions. Had he found Norrix? It was daylight out though. Unless Iqiohr had a spell to protect vampires from the sun Norrix wouldn't survive the trip to the temple. Part of her was relieved. At least she wouldn't have to watch Iqiohr cut Norrix open and take his heart. Iqiohr prided himself on drawing the process out as long as he could, and she wouldn't be able to remain stoic about Norrix's death.

The atmosphere was different this time. Executions were almost formal affairs, but the streets and steps were lined with cheering and shouting people dressed in elaborate feathered costumes and shiny jewels. Iqiohr wore ceremonial dress, but hadn't made her dress to match him. She wore the drab blouse and skirt of a slave. When he stopped in front of the altar her heart sank. It was executions, then. Or sacrifices, as he liked to call them.

"Kneel Esne."

Myth sank to her knees on the blood-red rock surface.

"You brought the knife to me. You are owed something for that, since this would not be possible if you had failed me. I will give you your reward. Bring it out."

Myth was careful not to show her emotions. He couldn't mean to make Fable watch him murder people. She was only four years old! Myth stared at Iqiohr with all the adoration she could muster shining in her eyes. She could make herself adore him to save Fable.

A soldier bowed and entered a room behind the altar. He returned a few minutes later, her daughter in tow. Fable's eyes lit up when she saw Myth and she took a step forward, but a hard yank on her arm stopped her in her tracks.

Rage surged in Myth, her Strygoi side fought to come out and kill any man who dared touch her daughter.

Iqiohr circled behind Myth and a sharp blade pressed against the skin of her throat. "Place it on the altar."

"No!" Myth tried to jump to her feet, but the knife cut into her skin. She froze as blood trickled from her neck don her chest, staining her blouse. "She's your daughter! You can't sacrifice her!"

The soldier lifted Fable by one arm and slammed her down on the rough, flat surface.

"It is a witch! It is what you gave me when I asked for a son. I didn't have it killed at birth because it was useful in making you obedient. But you are not obedient anymore, are you?"

Fable screamed soundlessly as her little arms were lifted over her head, the chain between her manacles pressed to the altar.

Myth wanted to tell Fable she would get them out of this, that things would be okay. But she didn't know if they would, and the collar around Table's neck prevented their telepathy.

The obsidian knife in his hand traced a circle around Myth's neck as Iqiohr paced around her where she knelt, stilling her instinctive movement towards her daughter. "You have defiled yourself." He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I gave you everything and you ruined our life together. The only reason you will not be a second sacrifice today is the chance you've done something right, and this time you are carrying my son."

He straightened and resumed circling her. "As your punishment, it will be the sacrifice tonight. It's a little small to build a fire in its chest, but it has magic. Untapped magic. No one has ever drawn from it. You will wield the knife. If you don't accept your punishment, I will perform the sacrifice, and I'll make sure it suffers before it dies."

Iqiohr kept the knife at her throat and yanked Myth to her feet. Spinning her to face the crowd, he peered into the sky and raised his voice to address the crowd. "Today, as the moon passes over the sun, we will make the sacrifice to usher in the Sixth Age!"

The crowd roared.

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NORRIX

People filled in the road. Norrix pushed his way through them. Initially they refused to move, but anyone turning around to complain was met by a snarling ahuizotl or the club Norrix wielded. He tried not to kill anyone, not wanting to add to the body count of the sacrifices the Scorpion-Mage had planned. The ahuizotls didn't feel the same compunction. Every time one of Iqiohr's guards tried to stop them he ended up a drowned skin.

The bond he shared with Myth went from trepidation to horror and terror. He willed the shadow to move faster. When they reached the pyramid Norrix took the stairs at a run, not caring about hiding his presence any longer. He tripped and shoved people to the side, tossed them over his shoulder, or knocked them flat and leapt over them.

At the top, Iqiohr, arms crossed, stood next to Myth. The representatives from the seven tribes crowded around the altar. Minions stood in a line facing the crowd, holding them back. Myth held the obsidian knife from the auction above her head, over Fable, who was tied down to an altar. Fable's tear-stained, red face tilted towards her mother, expression going from fearful to determined.

The bond filled with rage. Norrix ran forward, body slamming one of the minions holding the crowd back to make a hole in their line. As the other guards started to react, the ahuizotls jumped on them, stifling their screams and yells by filling their lungs with water. Men choked, ripping masks off their faces as water poured from their noses and mouths. Eyes bulging, they collapsed as their bones dissolved.

Myth slashed the knife down, cutting through the restraint holding Fable's ankles. Fable twisted her body, scrambling off the altar, but was still stuck by the chain between her manacles.

Ripping his mask off, Norrix threw it in Iqiohr's face, following it up with a downward strike with the flat of his club, sending Iqiohr to his knees. Myth turned and Norrix caught sight of her eyes, now completely silver. Clutching the obsidian knife Myth took a step toward Iqiohr. Norrix backed away. He knew better than to take Iqiohr from the strygoi just under the surface on Myth's skin. Instead, he swung his club at the tribes' representatives, sending them scurrying, screaming and yelling for help.

A second wave of ahuizotls attacked, taking the men to the ground.

Norrix reached the altar tried to lift the chain from where it was stuck, but magic sizzled through him. He lifted the club over his head. Fable opened her mouth in a soundless scream. Myth's head whipped around, silver eyes blazing. He brought the club down on the chain. It didn't break but the altar under the chain wasn't so strong. It smashed into rubble and Fable pulled her hands away. The little girl curled into a ball and sobbed.

It was pandemonium on the platform, but Myth was focused on Iqiohr again, and the ahuizotls were keeping the rest of the men back. Norrix threw his club at one of the remaining guards , embedding it in his chest. He gathered Fable to his chest. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself into him. The magic n the chains burned, but he cradled Fable's head, shielding her eyes from the violence and wishing he could prevent the sounds of men drowning from her ears.

"I have Fable!" he called over the tumult. "She's safe."

That seemed to be all Myth needed to hear. Her body flashed silver and her Strygoi side erupted. Bat wings exploded from her back and her fingers and toes turned to claws. She reached for Iqiohr, stabbing her clawed fingertips into his chest. He screamed as she lifted him into the air.

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MYTH

"I have Fable. She's safe." At Norrix's words something in Myth snapped, some sort of tether she'd never realized she'd placed on herself. Unrestrained rage surged in her, at how her ancestors had been captured and enslaved, drained of magic and bred like animals until they died. At how Iqiohr kept her like a pet. At how Iqiohr had treated Fable, taking her daughter's voice and bringing her here as a sacrifice.

All her life she'd lived as a prisoner. A vessel. A victim.

But all those things meant she defined herself by the actions of someone else. Let someone else determine her behavior. Allowed Iqiohr to turn her into something she wasn't meant to be.

Her gaze fell to the white-haired, white-eyed man on his knees before her. What was he to her?

She wouldn't think of herself as surviving him. That still smacked of having been his victim. She was no prisoner, she'd been free to decide every day what she would endure. She was not his vessel. She was Fable's mother. She had done what she had to, to keep her daughter safe. She hadn't lived at Iqiohr's whim. She had made the choices that defined who she was. It was all her, had always been all her. Everything in her life was her fault.

But that wasn't right. Fault implied blame and she didn't blame herself for the things she'd done. What had Clio said? Own it. Myth owned everything. That realization flooded her with confidence and swept doubt away, filled her soul with her self. The last of the bonds she'd limited herself with burst.

She didn't know what that made this pitiful thing she saw before her now. He was nothing. Less than nothing. But she knew what it made her.

"I am Myth."

You are ready! Sora sang. Be something you!

Opening herself to her magic fully, she welcomed the silver magic in. It mixed with hers creating something more than either magic could have been on its own. Before her eyes her hands changed, fingers elongating, fingernails curving into sharp claws. She blinked as her vision blurred for a moment, then sharpened, showing her layers of magic over Aztlan, and the pitiful amount of white magic the man in front of her truly possessed.

So many Soras! This time Myth knew 'Sora' meant sister. Laughter rang through her head, along with hundreds of whispered voices urging her to kill the man, open the gate, set them free, get revenge. Myth saw how to do it all.

Myth threw her arm forwards, sinking her claws into Iqiohr's chest. Lifting him into the air, she slammed his body down on the altar where Fable's had been seconds before. Her obsidian tipped bat wings snapped out to their full span, their sharp edges slicing across the chests of two men trying to catch her from behind She raised the obsidian dagger Iqiohr so coveted above her head. She spared the time to glance at Norrix.

Ahuizotls surrounded him and Fable in a circle, not letting anyone get close. His eyes were all black and his fangs were bared. His vampire was out, ready to fight and kill for her, but he knelt, cradling Fable against his chest, protecting the most precious thing in the world to Myth while she fought a battle he couldn't fight for her.

The tilmatli Norrix wore had fallen back over his shoulders, leaving his weapons free, and a lot of his skin on display. The hundreds of voices in her head approved. Mine, she admonished them, smirking at the role reversal.

Her prey squirmed, bringing her attention back to the man impaled on her claws. Seeing him now, she wondered why she'd ever feared him. He was so small compare to what she'd become. Not only strygoi, but something else. He'd terrified her daughter though, and he had to pay not only for that, but for all the other witches the Scorpion-Mage magic had terrified and used over ten thousand years.

Fable might not have been able to scream when she was on the altar, but Iqiohr's scream wasn't silent when she arced the knife into his chest and sliced down his sternum. Setting the knife to the side, she curled her claws, summoning the kindled bow fire. It floated through the air and landed in the hole in his chest.

Myth glared at Iqiohr. "You're in my world now." She threw her head back and laughed, reveling in her magic. "Come Tzitzimimeh sisters!" Myth's voice rang with power. She hardly recognized it as hers, but she liked it. "Be welcome in this place."

The flames leapt, burning higher, expanding in a circle to form a portal. Women with bat wings and claws flew out, hundreds of them. Each time a new woman passed through the portal a new cut opened on Iqiohr's skin. His voice gave out long before the stream of women.

They flew from the pyramid in droves, seeking Iqiohr's men. Tzitzimimeh liked to devour their enemies during solar eclipses.

The last woman through the portal was Ītzpāpālōtl. The leader of the Tzitzimimeh didn't fly through the portal, but walked, clawed feet stepping on Iqiohr, then the altar before hopping to the ground. Pushing her skull-faced mask up to rest on her head instead of over her face, she eyed Myth's body up and down crossed her arms and grinned. "Well, I haven't seen a Tzitzimimeh like you before."

Myth grinned back. "I'm something new."

"We have been locked away from this world for too long." Ītzpāpālōtl extended her wings fully. They were edged in obsidian like Myth's, but one blade was missing. Myth picked up the obsidian dagger and walked behind Ītzpāpālōtl, sliding the shard into place.

"Thank you. That has itched for centuries." Ītzpāpālōtl looked down at Iqiohr, still clinging to life on top of the altar. "Others will be trying to come through. We got here first this time because we knew you'd have the dagger and open the way, but it would be better to close this gateway." Powerful sweeps of her wings put out the fire, and she reached into Iqiohr's chest. The portal dimmed.

Myth darted a glance at Fable. Her daughter's face was still pressed to Norrix's chest. He was shaking his head. "Don't! If you kill him—"

Ītzpāpālōtl closed her claws around the mage's heart, ripped it out and devoured it in three bites. "That should keep the boys out for a while, but there wasn't a lot of meat to it." Picking at her teeth with a long claw, she added, "Stringy, too, and it left a nasty aftertaste. I'm going to find something a bit more satisfying." She reached out and tore one of Iqiohr's legs from his body and spun it in the air like a club. "That's better." Taking to the air, she hovered over the pyramid steps. "Come friends. We have an army to put down."

The Ahuizotls bounded after her.

Part of Myth felt revolted, but part of her had enjoyed seeing that. She owned both feelings. With the portal gone, outside noises roared back. Screaming. Cheering. Men and women laughing together. It was an odd sound to hear in Aztlan.

Norrix rose to his feet, keeping Fable's view of the carnage blocked as he stepped over bodies and drowned skins to approach.

Myth took Fable from Norrix. "Why is she still chained? Iqiohr is dead, shouldn't the spell be broken?"