Champions Vol. 02

"I assure you, young lady," he said with mock seriousness, intentionally misunderstanding her head movement, "that my sense of humor is still alive and well..." pausing he looked back at his sarcophagus, "...figuratively speaking," he added in a stage whisper.

It was too much for Laurena, and she began howling with laughter.

"A little decorum, Miss," the spirit of Tlacelel said, affronted. "You'll wake the dead."

And for the next few minutes the Tomb of the Fallen echoed with laughter.

Eventually Laurena's laughter came to a gasping conclusion. She had laughed herself breathless, and was struggling to take in oxygen between chuckles. Finally she quieted, and waited for Tlacelel to speak again.

"I always believed that laughter was the best way to heal," he offered. "I still do, actually. So I guess it's time for my part in this little endeavor."

Laurena nodded politely, with a smile still on her lips.

"I can see that the Keeper chose the Trial of Patience once again," the spirit noted. "That man has no originality. I also witnessed Ophelia's Trial of Empathy. Not the most pleasant experience that one, but a necessary thing to learn. Especially for you, Laurena," he added.

Laurena flushed with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, young one," he soothed her. "None of us were perfect when we began as Champions. Although I was close," he added with a roguish grin. "Each of us had to face our flaws, either in the beginning during the trials or later when we bore the mantle of Champion. Admitting your imperfections and striving to correct them is how you will succeed in serving Eros. Failing to do so will bring you far more pain than any person should ever have to live through."

His voice had grown solemn at the end of his speech, and a look of sorrow passed across his face. Laurena realized for all his jokes and banter, this was a soul that had served Eros in the greatest manner possible for over six centuries. In that moment each one of those winters could be seen in his ethereal eyes.

"So now it is time for me to share my biggest failure," he continued, his cheerful expression returned. "It's a grand tale I promise; full of action, adventure, damsels in disrepute, and yours truly fighting valiantly to spread the message of Love. A thrilling tale I assure you. Unfortunately, the memory simply doesn't do it justice."

Laurena smiled at his tone. It sounded like this trial would not be as bad as Ophelia's.

Moving forward, Tlacelel reached out his right hand and held it just short of Laurena's left temple. "Are you ready for the Trial of Hubris?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied confidently.

Just before his fingertips contacted her skin and the light flashed before her sight, she noticed his disarming smile did not reach his eyes. They seemed almost apologetic...

* * *

She was in a strange body. It lacked any of her curves, and moved very differently than She was used to. Looking down She realized that She was in the body of a man, with skin the color of dark bronze. Tlacelel, She realized.

"Tlacelel, have you fallen into your cup already?" a man's voice called out jokingly. "We have barely begun to celebrate!"

Looking up She took in the source of the voice. It was a man of thirty-plus winters, who was seated beside her at a large table and smiling broadly. His skin was the same shade of brown as Tlacelel's, as were many others seated around them. The room was filled with men and women who were drinking, talking and laughing spiritedly.

"You know me better than that, Chicahua," She replied with Tlacelel's voice. "I am the Champion! I can drink you, Quauhtli, and Nacde under the table then carry all three of you to bed to sleep it off."

Chicahua, another man, and a woman who all sat together at her end of the table laughed in reply.

"Tlacelel, we have known you since we were all knee high to a coyote," the second man interjected with a smirk, "and with the exception of Nacde -- whom we all know is least able to handle her drink -- you are the first of us to make a fool of yourself with alcohol. You may be Xochipilli's Champion now, but you are still a light-weight."

At this announcement the woman seated beside the speaker slapped him hard on the arm. "Quauhtli! I have no trouble handling my drink! I just choose the path of moderation. One of us must since you three seem to feel that a night of drinking is not successful until one of you is running naked through the hall for all to see."

The three men chuckled at that response. "Nacde, my wife, if you are so capable of handling your drink then why did you refuse my marriage proposal for months, only to accept after a single night of drinking?" Quauhtli asked his wife innocently.

Blushing furiously, Nacde mumbled, "I was sick, and not in my right mind that night."

"Of course she was taken ill, Quauhtli," Chicahua interjected lightheartedly. "She must have been suffering from a fevered delirium to have chosen you over me. I am obviously the stronger, nicer, and much more handsome one."

Quauhtli clutched at his chest, pretending to be wounded by Chicahua's comment, as She added in Tlacelel's voice laughingly, "Don't forget humble."

Nacde took Quauhtli's hand in her own, and looked directly at Chicahua. "My husband has his faults, Xochipilli knows I spend most every day suffering through them, but he is the best man for me. I wanted a man that would love me for the rest of my life, Chicahua, not for one minute every night."

Quauhtli and She laughed uproariously at Nacde's statement, while Chicahua projected faux outrage, insisting to know the names of the women who slandered his bedroom prowess. "I demand you tell me who is spreading such falsehoods about me. I'll have you know that my love for a woman always lasts at least two minutes a night," he said with joking sarcasm.

Nacde's laughter joined Quauhtli's and Tlacelel's at Chicahua's announcement.

Once the laughter began to die down, She noticed that an old man was waiting to speak with Her.

"Champion, I apologize for the interruption, but I come bearing news of great import," he explained.

Quauhtli and Chicahua rolled their eyes at the announcement, while Nacde listened with polite interest.

"Go on," She bade him in Tlacelel's voice.

"There are rumors that a group of men near Texcoco are trying to revive the ancient ways," the old man declared fearfully. "They seek to restore the Cult of the Jaguar, and are taking people for sacrifice."

This was sobering news, and Quauhtli and Chicahua quickly grew attentive at the announcement.

"How many are there?" Chicahua asked.

"I do not know, sir," the old man replied, "but the elders fear that their numbers will grow quickly if they are not stopped."

"Return to your elders with word that the Champion of Xochipilli will investigate these claims," She answered seriously. "If the threat proves real my companions and I shall deal with it."

"Thank you, Champion," the old man exclaimed graciously. "I shall leave at once."

After the man departed Tlacelel's friends sighed in annoyance. "It would be nice to have just a few days to celebrate a victory before we have to rush off to the next problem," Quauhtli grumbled.

"We were warned that being the friends of Xochipilli's Champion was never going to be a dull job," his wife reminded him.

"That is true," her husband sighed.

"Let us finish the celebration tonight," She announced in Tlacelel's voice. "This cult can wait for tomorrow."

A round of agreement followed that announcement, and Chicahua proposed a toast, "To the Champion!"

As they all raised their cups the memory faded...

When the next memory faded in She immediately took in her surroundings. She was lying on the ground next to Quauhtli, Nacde, and Chicahua. They were hidden in sparse trees on a hill, overlooking some nighttime ceremony. Below them twelve men in black robes encircled a raised stone dais. Each man held a torch, and its flickering light reflected off the wet surface of the dais. It was drenched in blood.

"It appears that the reports were accurate," Chicahua whispered beside her.

"What's the plan, 'tactician'?" Quauhtli whispered to Chicahua quietly. She immediately understood the question. Chicahua was a tactical genius, and planned out every conflict that they engaged in. Quauhtli was a fighter of unparallel ability and he wanted to know where the strategist would place him.

"I don't know yet," Chicahua replied quietly. "We do not know enough about our enemies' capabilities. They out number us three-to-one at the moment, and we have no idea how they are armed or armored. Those robes conceal too much. They could be naked beneath them or fully dressed in heavy armor and carrying strong weapons for all we know. We need to observe a bit longer, until we know enough to ensure victory. We may need to recruit help from the village."

She scoffed at that idea. She was the Champion of Xochipilli, with strong magic at her command. Yes they were outnumbered, but by mere mortals. Such a paltry force would be no match for Her and her companions.

Just as She was about to point this out, they heard a scream from below. A thirteenth man was dragging a woman forward. She was struggling with all her might, but the man had an iron grip and her efforts were futile. Her captors drug her into the circle, and threw her onto the dais. Two of the twelve moved forward, and helped to tie the woman onto the dais. Once she was secured the two moved back to their places in the circle.

The twelve began to chant, while the man in the center pulled something from his robes. It appeared to be some kind of round container with a small opening at the top, but from the distance that She was watching from She could not be certain. The man holding it stuck his thumb inside, and it came back out dripping with a red liquid. The man used that thumb to paint strange symbols onto the woman.

"We need to go," She announced, turning her head to look at Chicahua. "From the amount of blood on that dais I seriously doubt that woman will walk away from whatever ritual this is. We cannot sit here and wait for her to be murdered."

"I do not know enough to develop the proper plan," Chicahua hissed.

"I am the Champion of Xochipilli. I possess magic more powerful than these idiots could imagine. You are genius tactician and an able fighter, Quauhtli is the best warrior to ever walk these lands, and I challenge any man or woman to out-shoot Nacde with a bow," her mouth spoke with Tlacelel's voice. "These idiots stand no chance against us. Now let's stop them."

She knew this was a bad idea. David had spent long hours explaining the importance of knowing your enemy's capability before fighting them. Good training and well developed skills were what you relied upon when you were surprised, and/or caught unaware. But you never attacked an unknown opponent unless there was no other option.

Unfortunately, Tlacelel did not believe the same thing, and She was merely a passenger in his body for this memory. He was confident that his powers as a Champion could overcome any obstacle, especially a paltry force of thirteen robed men.

Chicahua cursed as She leapt to her feet and charged towards the robed men. She could tell the others were charging behind her, but could not determine where because the memory was fading again...

Before her vision in this memory was even restored She was overwhelmed by the soul-crushing pain of failure. Grief, anger, regret, and shame all pushed in upon her. She was kneeling in the dirt, her body soaked in blood, and the pain of numerous wounds tugged at her. But all that was secondary to the sight before her. Lying across her knees was the head and shoulders of Chicahua, his body propped against her as she cried tears of loss.

To her left lay the bodies of Quauhtli and Nacde. The mighty fighter had fought valiantly, but the attacks were too fast and too numerous for him to defend against. His wife's body lay across his, she had dropped her bow and drawn her axe, trying to save him. Instead, she had joined him in death.

She had made a terrible mistake, and her lifelong friends had paid the price. Under the robes had been abominations, half-man and half jaguar. They had sacrificed men and women to forge a pact with the Jaguar God Tezcatlipoca, trading their souls for the power of the great cats. They had moved with the speed of jaguars, attacking with hands that had mutated into razor sharp claws. She had cast spells and fought as hard as she could, but one by one her friends had fallen before her eyes. Chicahua had been the last to fall, his throat ripped out as he plunged his sword through the last of the jaguar-men. She had poured every scrap of magic she had left, weakening her body beyond exhaustion, beyond pain, in an effort to save his life. But the wound was too great, and the last of her friends had died in her arms.

She was the Champion of Xochipilli, She possessed the most powerful magic in this world, She was the envy of every man and woman faithful to the God of Love...and She was an idiot. Before She was too proud to listen to advice...now there was no one left to give any...

* * *

Laurena gasped as she returned to her own body. She did not cry this time, though she certainly felt like doing so. The grief and self-loathing from the memory clung to her like an oily residue. She fought hard to calm herself, struggling to remember that the memory was not hers, and that she was not the one who had lost so much for such a stupid reason.

After a few moments she had regained her center. The emotions of the memory still lingered, but their power had lessened greatly. Taking a shuddering breath she realized that she was no longer standing, and was instead kneeling on the ground, her posture a last echo of the memory's final moments.

"Now you know what my greatest failure was," the spirit of Tlacelel said solemnly. "Being a Champion of Xochipilli comes with great power, and our god expects you to use that power to better this world. However, that power can easily sway you, and lead you to overconfidence. The tasks that you will face as a Champion should never be underestimated. Always remember there are limits to even your power.

"Sometimes your power alone is not enough, and when that happens there will always be volunteers ready to join you. From what I hear there are already two who accompany you now, and aid you in your duties. Know their limits as well, and never fear asking for help when you need it. Failing to do so may cost you your life, or it may cost you even more. Do not allow your pride to lead you to folly."

Laurena nodded in acceptance of his words. Tlacelel believed he had paid a price worse than death for his errors. Thinking of David and Sapphire and how much they had come to mean to her, she understood how he could feel that way.

"Now I will show you something I created after that terrible day," the spirit explained. "When I walked from that field of battle I swore I would never again allow others to pay the price for my mistakes, and this spell was how I kept that vow."

Teacher and student sat together on the cold stone floor. Tlacelel teaching Laurena the most powerful spell of healing ever created, and the most costly. It allowed the caster to transfer their own life energy into the body of another. It would heal any living being, even if they were at the brink of death. In return the caster's own life was shortened, their remaining years traded to save another. When they finished, Laurena asked him if he had ever been forced to use the spell.

"No," the spirit answered somberly. "I paid such a high price for my first lesson that I never placed those around me in such danger again."

He then fixed her with a hard stare. "But I also never had to face a challenge from one of our Lord's rivals."

*** Chapter 31: The Trial of Jealousy ***

031812JUN13 DW

14^th of Pyanepsion, 2351 EC

The Isle of Eirini

"Still keeping the pretty ones to yourself I see," came the lyrical voice of a woman.

Smiling, Tlacelel leapt from his crossed-legged position in front of Laurena, and raced towards the origin of the voice. Laurena looked to his destination, and saw the spirit of a beautiful woman in a flowing blue gown. She had skin that was darker than Laurena's but lighter than Tlacelel's. Her hair was dark brown, and longer than Sapphire's, stretching down to her knees. Amusement danced in her eyes.

"Nefertari, it's been ages," Tlacelel's spirit said with exuberance, moving to hug the other spirit. Nefertari was not interested, however. She raised a warding hand between them and shot a scowl at the approaching spirit that would have stopped his heart...if he still had one.

"That is close enough, Tlacelel," she commanded coldly. "You know perfectly well why it has been ages; and until you apologize -- and mean it -- I have no interest in being anywhere near you."

"Aww, come on, Nef, it's just an innocent hug," Tlacelel appealed.

"That was the same thing you said the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that," she simmered. "Each time I relented and each time, without fail, what did you do?"

"I...uh..." he waffled.

"You grabbed my ass!" she spat in annoyance. "Not a pat, not a quick rub, you reached down with both hands and squeezed like you were kneading bread, you utterly reprehensible troll!"

"Hey! In my defense, you really can't blame me for that. You have such a magnificent ass, there really is no other way a man can hug you. It is pretty much my manly duty to appreciate those majestic globes whenever possible," Tlacelel protested.

"Go," Nefertari growled. "Leave now and do not even attempt to enter my sight until you are prepared to apologize for your disgraceful actions."

Turning to Laurena, who was struggling not to laugh at them, Tlacelel bowed. "I have enjoyed meeting you, Laurena," he said. "Please take care, and remember my lesson."

Laurena curtsied in reply, and pledged that his lesson would never be forgotten.

As Tlacelel began to fade from view she heard his voice faintly say, "A Champion of Xochipilli that can't handle a little innocent body appreciation, what has this world come to..."

Laurena snorted in amusement. She doubted anyone would ever claim Tlacelel took life too seriously...or the afterlife in his case. Turning to Nefertari, Laurena was surprised to see the woman smiling at the space where Tlacelel had disappeared.

Noting the young woman's bewildered expression, Nefertari explained herself. "Tlacelel feels that I take things far too seriously, so he has taken it upon himself to 'unwind my undergarments' in his words. His preferred method is to annoy me with his childish antics, although occasionally he will also get me to laugh at his failings.