(NOTE: This is an excerpt from my newly released debut novel, The Sword of Ixchel, which is now available in paperback and as an e-book on Amazon)
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Chapter 1: The Offer
The day his wife was
stolen would haunt Molan Apraxas until the moment of his
death. It
happened beneath a flawless sky, rare during the jungle rainy season. Six days
of unbroken storms abruptly ceased, and the clouds peeled apart to reveal
perfect blue, horizon to horizon. Molan took a break from tilling to knead his
aching neck as the sun poured over his maize field.
Yields are down,
the village lord said the day before. If
things don't pick up, Molan, we may need a sacrifice. Get back in the gods’
favor.
Molan
mopped his brow with the frayed end of his pati
and exhaled slowly.
"Xuna," he called to his daughter. She glanced up from the hewn dirt and leaned on her mattock. Her lanky shadow spread across the ground between them. "Not too close to the others."
"I understood you the last time," she huffed.
"You're doing very well," he added, feebly. She grunted something inaudible and turned back to the work.
"Xuna," he called to his daughter. She glanced up from the hewn dirt and leaned on her mattock. Her lanky shadow spread across the ground between them. "Not too close to the others."
"I understood you the last time," she huffed.
"You're doing very well," he added, feebly. She grunted something inaudible and turned back to the work.
Molan
prayed in silence. Give life to these
seeds, he pleaded the gods. Let them
resurrect the holy maize. He listened as Xuna’s mattock chopped moodily
through the soil. And let my daughter’s
roots sink deep. Help her grow tall
and strong, not bent and broken like me.
It
was this precise moment when a distant scream pierced the perfect day and
jolted him from his fieldwork. Seren, his wife and greatest love, was in
trouble.
“To
me Xuna!” he cried, casting aside his tools. “Hurry!”
Molan
seized his daughter's hand and together they dashed for home as fast as Xuna's
young legs allowed. Every terrible scenario swam through Molan’s head as they
ran. There were many demons, gods and wicked men in the jungle whose attention
they might draw. At last, they crested the final hill and skidded to a halt
with dust eddying around them.
Below,
two enormous men surrounded their cottage door, armor and spears gleaming in
that flawless sun.
"Who
are they?" said Xuna, unable to hide the tremble in her voice.
The two warriors were tall
and broad-chested. They packed the space beneath the cottage’s thatched awning.
Plates of brine-soaked leather armor hung across their broad chests. They had
identical, dark-teak skin knotted with muscle and long, sleek hair as black as
a grackle. Each held a jade spear in one hand and a shield painted with a
coiled snake in the other.
The emblem was well known.
The Kaan Dynasty.
"Royal guards. Of
Calakmul," he answered. Royal guards were only found with royalty. He
squeezed his daughter's hand. "The gods will grant us courage."
Molan eyed the twin
warriors as he and Xuna approached. Up close they were huge. Wider than Molan
by half and a full head taller. Their faces were identically grim and
emotionless. Molan placed his hand on Xuna’s lower back and guided her between
them into the cottage.
A handsome, majestic woman
occupied their family table with a cloud of warriors—twins of the two
outside—hovering around her. Servant girls immediately attended to her every
comfort. Molan had never imagined so many people in their tiny space.
“Where is Seren?” he
demanded. “What have you done with her?”
"Molan Tak'aan," the woman said as she
swept to her feet. The richness of her attire juxtaposed harshly against the
cottage background. A jaguar-fur quechquemitl
spilled from her shoulders, hems and straps embossed with jades, opals, and
silver. Gold rings decorated each knuckle. Molan recognized her at once. She
was Tunial Kin Mai, famed sorceress and high priestess of Calakmul, one of the
two greatest cities in the realm. Molan had despised and feared her from the moment
they'd met all those years before. “Do not worry about your wife. She is quite
safe.”
"I insist to see
her!"
"Or what?" said Tunial. Her dark eyes thinned to poisonous slits. Molan couldn’t stand to look at them. She thrummed with power and he was no match for it.
"Or what?" said Tunial. Her dark eyes thinned to poisonous slits. Molan couldn’t stand to look at them. She thrummed with power and he was no match for it.
"Nothing, my
lady," he growled, slumping into a defeated bow and gesturing for Xuna to
do the same.
“As I expected, Molan Tak’aan.”
"It is just Molan,
kin mai.” His back cracked painfully as he straightened upright. “I vacated
those titles long ago."
The sorceress smiled
hollowly. "No need to be coy, Molan Tak'aan.
We both know all about your past."
Xuna's head tilted in his
direction and Molan attempted to catch her eye. Tunial must have noticed, for
she appraised his daughter for the first time and grinned, exposing a full row
of gem-studded teeth.
"The kalomte heard
rumors of your offspring." She brushed the back of her hand and its many
rings over Xuna's cheek.
"Kalomte now, is
it?" said Molan, steering the conversation away from Xuna. "Ka'b Hix
has finally grown a spine! I wonder what the King of Tikal thinks of his
rival’s self-applied title?"
"Insulting the High
King of Calakmul in front of his priestess? Your famous runaway mouth continues
to sow trouble for you!” said Tunial. She restored her too-cunning smile. In a
flash, she seized Xuna's chin and turned her face from side to side.
"Has your father ever
told you that he was once the prized pupil of Naranjo?" Xuna glanced again
at her father from the corner of her eye. "Speak, girl!"
"No, mother,"
Xuna said meekly.
A servant gasped.
"Mother" was a formal address to an older woman but inappropriate for
the high priestess. A commoner could lose a head for such a blunder.
"Your father has no
honor, no courage. So afraid of the gods' judgement that he renounced his own
lord, his own people, all to retire to... this?"
She gestured at the dusty shack.
“Perhaps you could get on
with whatever purpose you came for,” interjected Molan. “The village lord is
threatening sacrifice if we don’t meet crop quotas. I quite value my head. I
need Xuna and Seren’s help if I plan to keep it attached to my spine.”
Tunial glowered at him for a moment then
nodded to one of her servants, who extended a folded swatch of red material.
Molan accepted it tentatively.
"The kalomte's oldest
son has been stolen. This token was left at the scene.” After a pause she
added, “Only someone very powerful could have managed the crime.”
Molan unfolded the
material and stared blankly at the woven symbol of a hawk encircled with gold
runes.
"The emblem of your
dead king in Naranjo,” said Tunial. “A sigil that has been banned for what?
Fifteen years?"
"I am sure Ka'b Hix
has others much smarter than me to figure out his little mystery," Molan
responded. He re-folded the material and offered it back.
"You misunderstand
things, Molan Tak'aan. Ka'b Hix has
passed into the Underworld. Ka'an Paktik is kalomte now."
"Sky Witness,"
Molan muttered, rendering the name into the commoner dialect. Sky Witness was just
a young prince when his father and the lords of Calakmul sacked Molan's home
city. Young but already shrouded in infamy.
"Kalomte Sky Witness
believes you are most suited to
answer this riddle. You are the only one left of the old, dead Naranjo order,
after all."
"Sky Witness is even
more of a fool than people in the taverns whisper if he thinks I had something
to do with this."
"I am tired of your
words, Molan Tak’aan,” she said with a bored flick of her hand.
“Your choice is to follow his orders or watch pain fall on everyone around
you." She stepped closer until their noses were almost touching. She
smelled sweet, like spices and cacao. "Produce the kalomte's heir or your
wife will suffer. That is Sky Witness’s offer."
Molan swallowed. For a
long moment, silence hung heavy in the air. He wanted to resist but couldn’t
risk harm coming to Seren or Xuna. Or himself.
"Tell the boy king I
will do what I can," he growled in defeat.
Tunial grinned. “I knew
King Sky Witness could count on you.” She nodded to her guards, and the troupe
filed neatly from the room leaving only her sweet lingering scent as evidence
they’d been there at all.
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