Blood of Toma by Lauren Lee Merewether

Author:Lauren Lee Merewether
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4993-8237-2
Publisher: Lauren Lee Merewether

Chimalli struggled to kneel, but he tenderly held Itotia’s head and cradled it in his arm. “I am sorry Itotia,” he whimpered. “I am sorry I did not make it to you in time. I have failed my mission, I have failed my goals, and I have failed you.”

“Chimalli,” Alacan said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Chimalli sat on the temple steps stroking the young woman’s arm. The slouch in his spine and the hunch of his shoulders signaled his soul gave up. His reason for living was dead, cut into pieces laying in front of him and burning at the top of the temple steps.

“Alacan, I did not save her, and I did not kill the High Priestess, as if any of it mattered,” Chimalli said thinking back to his conversations with their leader. “He said if we killed the High Priestess, a replacement would be sent for Itotia.”

“He lied, Chimalli. Come with me brother. We shall exact revenge on Meztli of the Cuachicqueh,” Alacan said giving Chimalli his hand.

Chimalli only looked to him in agony, “No, dear friend. You avenge me; you avenge Itotia. I have no fight left. I have nothing left.” The woman, whom he had given his heart, now had hers cut out of her body. His skin swallowed and sunk. His eyes blackened, and his cheeks depressed. The wound in his side completely torn, and blood spilled forth. Alacan lifted the veil from his eyes and saw his friend downtrodden and dying. The light went out from his eyes, and Chimalli died looking up to his one true friend, the object of his admiration.

Alacan’s heart skipped a beat as the stench of death closed in completely. He knew a day would come when death came for them, but not like this, not in an un-heroic, un-sacrificial way, a death surely meant for Mictlan.

“Huitzilopochtli, god of war, hear my prayer,” Alacan said as knelt down and closed Chimalli’s eyes. “Be good to this warrior; show him to the Eastern Paradise even though hie died an unworthy death. He has been good to you all of his days bringing you sacrifices from foreign lands, feeding your hunger for blood—”

Alacan’s prayer of mercy was cut short as Hernán Cortés came galloping down the steps with his sword raised to strike, but Alacan jumped out of the way. The sword instead sliced Chimalli through the back tossing him beside his love, Itotia. His head near her head and his body near her body.

Alacan peered over the stone step wall and narrowed his eyes. Meztli will pay for this, Alacan thought. He will pay. Then he stood amidst the chaos of the people, running and screaming. All for Meztli, and he cannot even be true to his word. He will pay with his life. He slipped out of the city, down the causeway, and straight into the jungle that hugged the lake.

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