Blood & Fur

Chapter Eighty-Six: Death's General

Each time I thought Mother couldn’t disappoint me more, she found new ways to surprise me. I had to at least recognize her talent for deceit and surprise.

Worse, I’d seen the looks of recognition on my guards’ faces. The Nightflowers had likely been briefed on Iztacoatl’s hunt and its consequences; I suspected that a few of them even participated in it. Mother had been near the top of my captors’ list of enemies and her description was widely shared.

“Oh divine Godspeaker,” Patli whispered in my ear like a demon on my shoulder. “This is–”

“The traitor,” I replied with a grunt. “Many mysteries have begun to make sense now. It appears our enemies and betrayers were in bed together.”

Patli nodded sharply. On one hand, Mother’s official association with the Sapa accredited the idea of a wide enemy conspiracy where all of our issues could be laid at the mountain people’s feet. I wondered if she showed up specifically to draw suspicions away from me, although I didn’t truly believe it.

On the other hand, the information was bound to reach the Nightlords. Even if I somehow managed to massacre each and every guard present without arousing suspicion, Iztacoatl had already proved that she could see through animals’ eyes. A single surviving spy would be enough to pass the information up the chain of command.

I couldn’t keep this hidden, which meant I would have to anticipate its consequences. I had no idea how Sugey would react upon learning of this information and would need to choose my words carefully.

My troops stopped a spear’s throw away from our rivals, with the pyre and its hill looming to our right and casting a dark shadow upon our chosen battlefield. Itzili gladly introduced us with a roar that shook the very earth.

I saw brief flashes of fear in the eyes of enemy soldiers, but strangely none from Ayar Manco’s mount. Any normal animal would have been at least slightly on edge in the presence of such a large predator, yet this one remained eerily calm. It didn’t even blink. I strongly suspected the use of a spell.

In fact, I could feel a subtle and familiar pressure in the air. A near-undetectable omen of doom hovering over the battlefield. Having once cast all of Smoke Mountain under a similar effect, I immediately recognized the spell.

“Corpses sleep under the earth, hissing curses,” the wind whispered in my ear. “A gift of reconciliation, and a bribe to chaos.”

A Haunt. Mother had put this area under a Haunt spell; one which would likely favor me in the battle to come.

Could Inkarri detect it? I doubted so, since not even the Nightlords themselves could see through my cursing of Smoke Mountain until it was already too late. Even if he did, Mother acted so subtly that tracking the sabotage back to her would be difficult. The Sapa were more likely to blame me or my vampiric captors should they discover the Haunt.

That tiny bit of help should have been unnecessary considering my power, which I took as a subtle warning. Mother wouldn’t feel the need to discreetly curse this place if she felt confident about my victory. Did my foes lay a trap I couldn’t see?

I was considering my options when Ayar Manco stood from his throne. He opened his mouth to calmly address me in the Sapa tongue, which I did not recognize. One of his priests swiftly began to translate his words into Yohuachancan.

“The only ruler of the world has answered your challenge, barbarian emperor of blood and darkness,” the translator said with all the blandness of a trained messenger. “His Majesty Ayar Manco, Lord of the Sapa and Master of the World, demands to know why you would bare your savage fangs at our noble mountains of peace.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if Ayar Manco had no idea how to speak the Yohuachancan tongue, but this could have been a ploy too; a way to demean me before his men by showing I was a barbarian requiring an interpreter for the master of the mountains to understand my brutish language. I cursed my lack of foresight on the matter. I should have questioned Aclla more thoroughly.

Nonetheless, I could think of a few ways to test the waters.

“Only rule?” I snorted in disdain. “All I see is an overmighty prince who does not even rest secure on his own throne.”

I carefully observed Ayar Manco as I stressed the word ‘prince’. His face was a mask of stone, but I could have sworn his eyes narrowed ever so slightly before one of my red-eyed priests translated my words into Sapa. He knew enough of the Yohuachancan tongue to recognize an insult at least.

“As for the reason I come to bring the shame of defeat to your people, you can only blame yourselves,” I retorted before lying through my teeth. “Your people have sent assassins after my consort and I, abused our trust with poisoned gifts, and dishonored our traditions. Be thankful for my restraint as I take a tribute of brave souls rather than paint your mountains red!”

The golden condor on Ayar Manco’s shoulder glared at me with all-too-human malice and disdain. The would-be Sapa Emperor remained unperturbed and swiftly answered through his translator.

“If attacks and dishonor you have suffered, they were not of our doing,” Ayar Manco replied through his translator with the calmness of a peaceful lake. “For many moons have the barbarian thralls of the winged whore-queens sought an excuse to bring war to the mountains. Your doomed campaign and throne are built on a hill of lies.”

Winged whore-queens? I actually had to suppress a chuckle at the term. Ayar Manco had a flowery way with words.

“Then explain to me why you shelter a renegade among your ranks, prince of lies?” I asked with a finger pointed at my mother. “That woman has dishonored the heavens and ought to be punished for it.”

My words served multiple purposes. First of all, I would keep up appearances in front of the Nightlords’ lackeys; second, it ought to protect Mother from her own ‘allies’ and discourage them from using her as a hostage by showing how much I despised her; and third, it would let me gauge how much the Sapa knew about her. Considering she hadn’t bothered to inform me about her activities beyond the mountains, I felt no guilt of accusing her in the open.

Mother scowled at me, but did not answer. A thin smile formed at the edge of Ayar Manco’s lips as he gave his answer.

“If a son cannot earn his own blood’s loyalty, the fault lies with him,” his translator said. “Nor should a beast complain about losing a woman’s love after hunting his own wife’s sister in the woods.”

My heart skipped a beat in genuine surprise. So he was not only aware of our blood relation, but of Astrid’s capture too. Did the Sapa keep her as a hostage?

Come to think of it… come to think of it, Inkarri could observe and listen to events unfolding in Mictlan. Considering Mother’s reputation, I found it unlikely he hadn’t heard of her. He probably knew she was a Tlacatecolotl. I find it unlikely that he didn’t consider Mother would make contact and form an alliance with me. Why allow her to stand so close to their emper–

My thought process came to a screeching halt as pieces fell into place and my fists tightened in genuine fury. Such was the tension coursing through my bones that some of my bodyguards suddenly looked uneasy, and Sapa soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons.

The lying, double-faced viper! She had been spying on me since the moment we met!

Inkarri lacked access to the Second Layer, however, so he would have had no way to check Mother’s lies once I entered Tlaloc’s domain. I guessed she had conned the Sapa people with false reports about my progress. She might even have convinced them that she simply observed me from afar and that we had yet to make contact.

This position would afford her a great deal of favor among the Sapa, but their leadership would have likely demanded more proof of loyalty. I thought Mother kidnapped Astrid to both help me and stick it to Iztacoatl, but I now realized that she also sought to solidify her standing by proving she worked against Yohuachanca. She could have easily taken unearned credit for Smoke Mountain’s eruption too.

Why keep this from me? Did she think I would kill her if I learned the truth? I admit I was sorely tempted to strangle her and risk the Skinwalker curse right now…

I froze and briefly glanced at my troops and foes. The tension in the air was palpable, and a few looked at me with genuine dread. Itzili, my ever faithful companion, hissed and bared his fangs at Mother with barely contained hostility. His legs were slightly bent, signaling that he waited for the signal to pounce and kill, kill, kill.

Everyone thought we were about to attack too.

Ah, I see. I forced myself to calm down. My hatred had to be genuine.

Mother set me up both to ensure I would react with true indignation, solidifying her lies in the eyes of the Sapa. Of course, Mother wouldn’t trust me to play the act. She didn’t even trust herself.

And of course, this play sharply showcased the strength of her connections to me. I couldn’t afford to cast her aside, not when she had become a dagger pointed straight at the Sapa Empire’s heart. I suspected she even took no small pleasure in pulling a fast one on me after how I treated her so contemptuously.

That, or she simply played all sides and kept her options open. This explanation remained the most likely, but I was in the same position as the Sapa: my treacherous and disloyal Mother had just made herself too valuable to discard in spite of the risks. Showing up today could have been her way to remind me that I wasn’t her only path to power so I wouldn’t take her for granted.

The craven witch had played a trick on me, and most infuriatingly, I couldn’t call her out without depriving myself of a precious resource. That wench!

I contained my anger, then pointed my obsidian club at Ayar Manco.

“Your deceit will not save you from my righteous might, and your punishment for disrespecting the heavens shall be severe,” I replied for the sake of my troops. “Come down from your throne and fight me, prince, if you dare! We can settle this in a duel before the mountains and valleys!”

I saw Ayar Manco’s expression sharpen for the first time since this contest of boasts as his priest translated my challenge, and he took slightly longer to give his answer. “The mountain does not answer the hill’s bark.”

Unlike me, he wouldn’t risk himself in the field. This presented me with an opportunity to showcase my own mercy.

“All your flowery speeches cannot hide your cowardice!” I declared, both for my allies and enemies’ sake. “A true emperor leads his men from the front! He does not cower at the back while he watches them die, but carves the path to victory for the rest to follow!”

“How bold it is for the immortal to wager what he cannot lose,” Manco replied through his translator with a knowing look. “We are all aware that your vampiric masters can bring you back from certain death. If what I hear is true, they already did so at least once.

He’s well-informed. “Would you blame me for our gods being stronger than yours?” I taunted him back. “If yours were so strong, certainly they could accomplish such a miracle!”

My men roared as one at my boast, but Ayar Manco didn’t take my bait. “Our gods work in subtler ways than yours, but you shall feel the sting of their judgment soon enough,” he said through his translator. “Thou shall return home shamed and chastised.”

“Then prove it, if you have the strength!” I raised my club to the sky. “By our hand will this Flower War bloom into a glorious victory!”

Itzili roared in triumph, and so did my men. Their weapons stomped the ground with feverish fervor and their mouths frothed with bloodlust. The Sapa, by contrast, might as well have been a wall of stone. I decided to change that by addressing all of my foes.

“Hear me, sons of the Sapa! Hear the words of Iztac Ce Ehecatl, Emperor of Yohuachanca, Godspeaker, and scourge of the highest of heavens, the dark lord and the mountain slayer!” The last insult earned me their full attention once the priests translated my words. “Each day forward I shall come to challenge you! I shall stand here, in this very field, on the same earth on which many of you will be buried!”

To illustrate my words, I dismounted from Itzili. I heard a loud thump when my feet hit the ground, as if the very earth shook under the weight of my statement. I advanced to the forefront of my troops, who diligently stepped aside to let me through, and then pointed my weapon at the Sapa.

“Come in any number, bring any weapon, use any tactic… so long as you fight with your very lives, I shall honor any challenger!” I declared with divine boldness. “Whoever captures me shall win this Flower War and eternal glory! Those valorous enough to fight me shall earn my respect, and those who die by my hand shall feast among the brave in the gods’ halls!”

I waved my club and felt the wind follow my arm. The eyes of hundreds focused on me, from Mother to Manco and the best the Sapa had to offer. I felt the gaze of fate itself weighing on my shoulders as I affirmed the meaning of my divinity.

“So come at me, if you dare! I shall humble the arrogant by teaching them the true meaning of strength!” I hit the ground with my club with a final set of words. “I declare this Flower War open! To the victor go the spoils!”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A chorus of shouts and roars echoed my declaration of war, my words pumping up my warriors for the inevitable clash. The Sapa swiftly answered by hitting the ground with their maces and spears in response, though their bravado failed to match our own. Ayar Manco and his shoulder condor observed me with cautious expression, while a brief gleam of pride crossed Mother’s gaze.

Afterwards, my priests and Manco’s sorcerers moved atop the hill to set the pyre alight. “Should we capture her, oh divine Godspeaker?” Patli asked me upon seeing Mother ascend with the other Sapa noncombatants. “If we strike the witch quickly…”

“Not now. Loath as I am to say this, I gave my word to these fools. We must conduct this Flower War in full respect to our customs.” I watched Ayar Manco, who would observe his soldiers from atop his throne at his army’s back. I had the sharp intuition he would be assessing my abilities going forward. “Capture as many soldiers as you can. The more of his men we keep in chains, the more pressure we can put on this overmighty prince to return the traitor to us.”

I doubted Ayar Manco would be foolish enough to trade his one Tlacatecolotl for a handful of soldiers, but Patli bought my lie nonetheless. He swiftly struck his chest with his first. “We shall bring glory to Your Divine Majesty’s name.”

May the gods smile on me and those would be his final words.

Our armies assembled into ordered lines of soldiers facing each other. Since this was the opening day of the Flower War, we would conduct today’s conflict with a series of duels to indicate our warriors’ prowess. The process would be simple: once a fighter incapacitated his foe, either by forcing him to surrender or by killing him, he would either move to the next line for his next fight or surrender his spot to the soldier after him if wounded. The process would continue until the coming sunset.

Obviously, the line of Sapa warriors facing me was the longest of them by far. Many fools had come to try and capture me. I noticed a strange warrior wearing a bear-pelt among my challengers, and another among Patli’s line. Both shared a familiar and predatory edge.

Those two weren’t warriors looking to capture trophies, but assassins out for blood.

Nonetheless, I faced my first foe without fear. It was a man over twice my age and a good head taller than me, wielding a shield and a star-spiked mace similar to the one Sugey used during our training. He fearlessly lunged at me with a roar in a brave yet doomed charge.

I sent him flying with a blow.

The man was thrown across his line, the shock causing the next two warriors behind him to stumble and collapse. The man’s chest had caved in on itself, his bones shattering and leaving a gaping crimson hole where his heart should have been. I sensed the evil dwelling within my scarlet Tlahuiztli rejoicing at the contact of this warm blood, and I meditated on the consequences of my actions.

I’d opened this Flower War with a murder.

I hadn’t meant to do that. In fact, I’d slightly toned down my blow due to my experience with Chilam’s amazons. I only realized my mistake now: I had managed to fight off a spineking’s jaws when wearing my scarlet Tlahuiztli while I had only one set of godly embers to draw strength from. Now that I absorbed Tlaloc’s sunlight, my might had only grown tenfold. A serious blow of mine could likely shatter stone.

While regrettable, the man’s death wouldn’t go to waste.

A tense silence fell upon the battlefield, which I quickly broke. “Patli!”

My elite guard, who led the line next to mine, nodded obediently. “Your Majesty?”

“It seems that the Sapa’s men are more fragile than brindles!” I shouted loud enough for my entire warband to hear. “Fetch me a child’s weapon, so that I do not break them so easily!”

My men erupted into laughter, and fury spread among the Sapa once their translators shared my insult in their native tongue. A new challenger fearlessly stepped up and Patli tossed me a wooden staff devoid of obsidian teeth to replace mine. This one was a bit slower than his predecessor, so I easily smashed his face with a casual blow that sent him to the ground. I’d restrained my strength to the best of my ability, and while I did leave him bleeding and unconscious, I quickly confirmed that he was indeed breathing.

“This man is unconscious, and his life is mine by right of conquest,” I declared. “Carry him aside.”

As I advanced onto my third challenger and let the soldiers behind me carry my first captive aside, I quickly realized that my ploy to inflame tensions had worked wonders. The Sapa’s humiliation bolstered their fighting spirit, and they soon engaged my other troops with the kind of ferocity only wounded pride could inspire. Maces and obsidian clubs clashed among the field, blood stained the grass, and weapons flew to the tune of pleas for mercy.

The red-eyed Nightflowers enjoyed greater resilience and strength than most men thanks to the vampiric blood which they received from their vile masters, so they won more often than not. Nonetheless, they were far from invincible; they bled like any man and a single mistake could spell their death. I joyfully witnessed my Curses and Mother’s Haunt bend fate in their disfavor in countless subtle ways. Wood shrapnels flew in just the right direction to hit throats; a tiny hole in the earth induced a fatal stumbling; a blow just happened to strike an artery. My work was so subtle I doubted anyone would notice, but it would reap its toll of death in time.

Most importantly, my men pushed on beyond what was necessary. No one wished to surrender when their emperor so boldly pressed forward. I saw wounded soldiers refuse to yield when it would have been wiser, and fools refusing to give their place to a fresher warrior in hope of adding one more captive to their name. Although the Sapa soldiers focused on capture rather than murder, accidents began to pile up. Whereas I advanced my way through my line of duelists unscathed, Patli was wounded in the knee and hip. Other Nightflower soldiers collapsed from their wounds after intense duels, and the corpses of the dead were dragged away by their respective sides.

I had to give it to my enemies, however, as it took until my fifth consecutive victory for fear to sink in. I faced nimble soldiers with quick feet and dazzling bronze daggers, a fighter with a spear and bola who tried and failed to immobilize me, and finally a warrior in a black and white tunic wielding a spear-axe taller than myself. Each of them I fell in a single blow. I pounced faster than the jaguar and struck harder than a feathered tyrant. By the time I faced my sixth competitor, the poor man’s knees were shaking so loudly I could hear them; so I struck him there.

“I claim my fifth captive!” I declared loudly after stepping over my newest captive. “Who else shall bend to the might of Iztac?!”

My next opponent, a spearman, took a step back rather than face me. I expected him to surrender on the spot, only for the next person in line to put his hand over his shoulder and take his place.

A volunteer? I squinted upon recognizing my new foe as one of the bear-pelt wearing warriors from earlier. Now that I could observe him more closely, I noticed that most of his face was covered in a black cotton mask and his skin was painted with tattoos of vivid colors. He was powerfully built and walked with a slight hunch, like a four-legged beast struggling to stand on its legs. Another of his kindred had walked up past Patli’s line to duel the Nightflowers’ leader.

Neither of them carried a weapon.

Is this your hidden dagger, Inkarri? I glanced at the condor on Ayar Manco’s shoulder. The bird met my eyes with a potent glare, while the prince himself observed the scene attentively. Were they hoping to tire me out with small fry? To soften me up for the kill?

If so, then I would disappoint them both. My unnatural vitality could let me sustain many more engagements.

“You would fight me unarmed?” I asked the bear-man with a mocking laugh and false bravado. “Very well, I shall honor thy bravery with a fair duel.”

I tossed my ‘weapon’ aside and walked to fight the man bare-handed.

As I hoped he would, Patli followed my lead with his own opponent so as not to look cowardly in front of his own fraternity; an act of foolish valor which I hoped would seal his fate. The two of us faced the bear-men.

They both pounced with inhuman speed.

Having fought a skinwalker, rabid beasts, and burned gods, I quickly reacted in time by catching his hands in mid-air before they could reach my throat. A much slower Patli failed to do so and was pinned to the ground by his own opponent.

I left him to die and focused on my own enemy. The Sapa man’s nails had turned into black claws and his frothing fangs belonged more to the bear whose pelt he wore than a man. More than that, he was ferociously strong too. I wielded the strength of ten men, and yet I felt pressure.

His skeleton was thicker than normal too. I could feel it through my Bonecraft spell. Was this man a shapeshifter, or had he been empowered through sorcery? Whatever the case, he attempted to push me back with all of his strength in an attempt to make me lose my footing. I refused to give an inch and fought back.

This time, I did not restrain my divine strength.

My muscles strained and the scarlet Tlahuiztli clung to my skin as I pushed back against the bear-man, my hands slowly crushing his own into an unshakable grip. The man let go of his pretense of humanity by attempting to bite my throat with his fangs. I responded by headbutting him with my jade mask, breaking his nose. The blow caused him to stumble, and I followed through by throwing him to the ground. He landed on the side among the dirt and the grass with a loud thump.

I swiftly grabbed the back of his neck before he could get up again and then slammed his face against the ground. The blow would have knocked any other man unconscious, but this strange beast answered me with a muffled roar of defiance.

“Yield!” I ordered. “Yield

!”

The bear-man answered my merciful offer by attempting to get up and break my hold. I simply slammed his skull harder this time; again, and again, and again. It took a fifth blow to finally knock him unconscious, and even then I had the feeling he would recover quickly.

“Chain this one before he wakes up,” I told the soldiers further in my line after releasing my grip on his bloodied skull. “Treat him well for providing me with exercise.”

I turned my attention to his fellow bear-man, who now towered over Patli on the ground. I could tell from the bruises that the Nightflowers’ leader had fought valiantly, but his throat had been slashed open by claws and he gargled in a pool of his own blood.

“That one’s soul is mine alone, beast,” I said. When the beast bared his fangs at me, I insisted more thoroughly. “Begone, or perish. I shall not ask twice.”

The bear-man appeared ready to fight me until I gave him a most potent glare and pointed at his face with a hand still drenched in his fellow’s blood. He held my gaze for a moment, and then wisely took a step back.

I knelt next to Patli in full view of our soldiers, the closest of whom had stopped fighting to

observe the scene. To my disappointment, the Nightflower commander was still alive… but not for long. I seized an opportunity to look merciful that wouldn’t cost me anything.

“You fought bravely,” I whispered in the man’s ear before turning to my men with solemnity. “Send him to my physician. Send him to my Necahual. She will take good care of him.”

No reason I should be the only one enjoying myself today.

When sunset arrived and the pyre died, I emerged victorious among the dying and the captured.

Ayar Manco retreated with Mother and his followers back to their camp before the coming of night, likely for fear of Nightkin assassination. Their side had obviously lost this engagement, so I left the battlefield crowned in glory.

All in all, our side captured a little over five hundred captives across all theaters of the Flower War thus far, taking three hundred seasoned warriors and two hundred commoner levies according to my masters of sacrifices’ estimation; a record harvest by Flower War standards. Thirteen of them had been captured by my hand alone. I’d caught more prisoners in a day than the elite Shorn Ones required in their entire career.

However, this victory came at a bloody cost. Forty of my Nightflowers had been killed or captured during our clash with Manco’s troops, and we had lost many more across all the battlegrounds. It was a price I was willing to pay to bleed out the Nightlords’ followers.

I returned to my camp at nightfall in triumph. My troops cheered me and my followers as I rode atop Itzili’s back with my rope-bound captives trailing behind me. Victory always tasted sweet.

Nonetheless, I was left with the strong impression that this had only been a careful test of my abilities. Ayar Manco’s cautious behavior belied a calculating mind I couldn’t bait easily. The way he carefully observed all battles from his command post and strategically placed inhuman warriors to strike at me and Patli reeked of a probing maneuver.

Had he thrown the first day of fighting in the hope of lulling my troops into a false sense of security? Or had he been assessing my strength to better prepare his best soldiers for the next battle? I couldn’t be sure yet, but I knew he wouldn’t ignore my open challenge. Every day I took the field unscathed would be another stain on the Sapa people’s pride.

“Your Majesty’s enlightened leadership inaugurated this Flower War with a most glorious victory,” Tayatzin said upon greeting me with a gracious bow. “Lady Chikal and her followers returned with a bounty of men too.”

“Wonderful,” I replied as I stepped down from Itzili the Younger. Those men at least will live, I suppose… “What of the men we sent against Cachi’s troops?”

“They acquainted themselves well, but suffered casualties,” Tayatzin confirmed. Perfect. Doing too badly on that front would have given the ruse away. “Alas, I am also saddened to inform you that Lord Patli perished on his way to Lady Necahual.”

“He fought valiantly to earn us victory,” I replied. That at least was true. “The Sapa will pay for this indignity, and for sheltering our enemies.”

This served right into my hands. The Nightflowers had been established by Yoloxochitl, so the duty of naming his successor technically fell to Eztli; who was both far away and likely uninterested in doing so. I would ensure that the order continued to suffer losses during the coming week.

“See that our prisoners are well-treated and their injuries treated,” I told Tayatzin. “The more of them we keep alive for ransom, the greater our leverage over these mountain thralls.”

To my surprise, Tayatzin tensed up uncomfortably. “I’m… I’m afraid this will not be possible, Your Divine Majesty.”

My spine stiffened and a coldness traveled along my veins. Tayatzin would never defy me, unless…

A fearsome roar echoed into the dark night, followed by the screeches of countless Nightkin.

Silence fell upon the Yohuachancan camp as shadows obscured the moon. The longneck holding my roving palace on its back and who had taken a choice spot at the center of our troops lowered its head in fear and obedience, and a monster soon perched itself atop it in a wild display of dominance.

I had only gotten a glimpse of Sugey’s true, monstrous form once on the night of the New Fire Ceremony, where she and her sisters were forced to seal away their monstrous father on Smoke Mountain. This time she chose to show herself in all of her fearsome and bestial glory.

The monster Sugey had always been was over thrice my size, with talon-hands that could seize a man like brindle and great filthy grey wings sending trails of feathers flying with each flap. I could have mistaken the thing for a giant vulture were it not for her humanoid frame, her clawed legs, her reddish skin, and the serpentine tail slithering behind her.

Twin heads sat atop a splintered naked throat crowned with a grey tuft of feathers, each of them equipped with a bronze-like beak ready to rip and tear flesh and bones. Her four eyes wept blood and gleamed with savage cruelty. She swung a massive mace fit for her size, whose head was a twisted amalgamation of human skulls merged together in a misshapen embrace.

I could smell the blood suffusing her frame, her feathers, her very self. My soldiers, and even Itzili, had frozen in dread at the mere notice of her predatory aura, the way hares tensed up in the presence of a rabid wolf. The crowd of Nightfkin flying around her like an escort only heightened her fearsome appearance.

In the end, Sugey did share her sisters’ flair for spectacle.

“Once again I come forward to you, warriors of Yohuachanca!” Sugey declared with twin voices each more inhuman than the other. She pointed her mace at me, singling me out from among thousands of soldiers. “Once again, I salute our Godspeaker for delivering us a great victory… and satiating the gods’ hunger!”

The cheers and acclaim of my troops felt like a cold shower of rancid waters.

Nightkin snooped in immediately afterwards to snatch prisoners from among the Sapa captives. A few of the enemy warriors I’d captured myself were grabbed by the shoulders and then dragged screaming into the sky.

“I salute you, brave soldiers and loyal tributaries of Yohuachanca, for bringing glory to our eternal empire and anointing our altars with blood!” Sugey snapped her beaks as her praise turned to scorn. “Many of you have fought well today, but many… many of you I found lacking, and in dire need of proper motivation!”

Two Nightkin dropped their Sapa prisoners right above their mistress. I watched with sickened disgust as Sugey’s maws surged to catch these screaming men in mid-air. Unlike her sisters, she didn’t bother draining them of their blood; she simply ate them both in a single gulp, both flesh and bones.

“As you can see, my twin mouths consume indiscriminately, and our army has no need for the weak and craven! The brave only show courage in the face of death, so heed my words!” Sugey snapped her beaks. “Any warrior who does not bring at least one sacrifice by the end of the week shall be devoured himself!”

My jaw clenched along with my fists. Everywhere I looked, I could see a mix of fear and zeal spread among my soldiers as their false goddess’ words slowly sank into their heads. More Nightkin descended upon the captives to drag them back to their hungry progenitor. The noise of snapping beaks and gluttonous gulps filled the night.

“In this world, it is kill or be killed!” Sugey shrieked while anointing herself in the entrails of our captives. “Only those willing to shed blood ought to earn the right to live another day!”

That beast had shot my plan dead in the water. My men would fight with greater motivation than ever, for their very lives were now on the line. There would be no more mercy nor caution, only the pressing whip of death reaping its toll each night.

This show war had just become a one of extermination.