Issue 5: "The Verdant Darkness Affair, Part Two"

The turbulent sea of people surged and crashed against the intruders. Old and dusty Mexico City seemed to groan under the weight of the mobs filling the streets, while at the edges of this ocean the Mexican troops tried to contain and dismantle the riots. Gunfire had started some time ago, and people on both sides were falling to the ground in pools of red, and the trio of intruders in the very heart of the rising tide of rioters could only watch in horror as the ground beneath them broke open, and stones ripped up out of the clay and concrete, and an ancient building started to reform, one brick rising over another as each person fell.

How did I get into this? I never once imagined anything like this, David Clark thought furiously as he swung a backfist into the side of one full-blooded native, and kicked down another such attacker from a different direction. Hell’s bells, how could anyone picture something like this? This is insane! He drew out his revolver as the crashing waves of entranced Mexican Indians pulled at him and struck at him, and tried to pull him down before he could move any closer to his goal. His jacket tore under the pressure, and he heard his shirt tear at the sleeve as he leveled his gun at one of the natives, directly toward the man’s knee.

“No! Midnight, can’t you see what’s making the temple rise?” Speed Saunders cried out as he strained against the quartet of natives that were piling on him as well, pulling him from the slowly rising peak of the ancient temple.

“Temple? A temple?” Midnight frowned as he realized what Saunders meant. He spun the revolver so the barrel was gripped tightly in his hand and brought the butt down hard on one attacker. Calling up ancient temples from the ground? I came here to rescue a kidnapped nephew, and now we’re trying to stop...whatever he’s doing?

Midnight’s gaze fell on the man perched on the rapidly-forming building. The strange man’s eyes were ablaze with fervor and design, a well-muscled body under the feathery scarlet cloak he wore. His arms swung about, his fingers at play in the air, as if he conducted a symphony, and it occurred to all three intruders, Midnight, Saunders and King Faraday, that it was indeed what this person was: a conductor in a symphony of blood. Blood that stained the streets below and built up this long-lost temple brick by tainted brick. The blood-red cloak shimmered as it fluttered in the hot wind, light striking it and altering the colors from time to time, as the devilish conductor continued his wicked performance.

“Hey, cape boy!” Midnight cried out as he spun his gun back into a shooting position and leveled it toward the villain. “How high do you think your blood will build this up, huh?” He prepared to pull the trigger, but couldn’t when he saw a wave of willing victims throw themselves in his line of sight.

“Weak gringo,” the man laughed at Midnight. “None may harm the Feathered Serpent! I will have my Empire of Blood, anointed by my queen and high priestess, and you three shall be the first brought to judgment in its birth throes!”

Midnight just stared ahead as he felt more of these poor souls piling onto him. His own limbs grew heavy and sore, his breathing became more labored, and below and behind him, more screams of the dying drove the Feathered Serpent further into the air astride his burgeoning temple of blood.

How did I get into this?

Mexico City, not so long ago

Rima, Daughter of the Didi and guardian of her forests in Guiana, held her face up high as she was paraded down the streets of the besieged Mexican capital. Her arms were bound tightly, outstretched from her body to a firm metal bar and thick hempen rope. She was led from behind by her captor, Nyola, a tall and willowy woman of insufferable opinion, Rima had decided, but, for now, she allowed the Aztec priestess to believe she held the upper hand. A better time would present itself.

The pair of them rode a wave of pure-blooded Indians from the region, those who could be directly descended from the ancient Aztec and Incan empires. Perhaps even the Mayans. These cultures meant little to Rima other than glimpses of their dead past she would find from time to time littering the landscapes. But Nyola had been sure to make Rima aware of the significance.

Within the withered and cracked walls of a time-lost building, Nyola had Rima taken from the metal bar and bound up high off the floor, the hemp now circling her wrists and keeping her petite body at least a foot from the ground as the priestess made ready with other preparations. Rima watched carefully as Nyola’s eyes went blank and those around her failed to understand the significance.

Rima’s senses alerted her though. The birds, the animals, they’d trained her instincts well, she mused as she could feel (more than see or hear, which couldn’t happen with such limited senses) Nyola’s spirit slip her sheath of flesh. Where it went to or why, Rima didn’t know. But she just gave a calm smile, tilted her head back and used the woman’s distraction for her own ends.

“Ah, my beloved has returned at last,” spoke a deep, rich, powerful voice. He was a broad and tall figure, his well-chiseled physique wrapped in a gaudy skirt of ancient Aztec design, a shimmering cloak of feathers swirling around him. He approached the unseeing Nyola but did nothing when he realized why she gave him no response. “Ah. The children.” He turned instead to the hanging jungle girl and stared at her, icy eyes sweeping her svelte form. “Rima, I presume?”

The Daughter of the Didi tilted her head back down to stare into the man’s eyes, showing no emotion, remaining calm in the face of this dangerous man. “I am called that, yes. You are the one my captor calls the Feathered Serpent?”

“Yes. I am so glad you could join us for the birth of the true Empires of this land,” he said, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “Soft. Smooth. My fellows will appreciate you.”

“They will never have me,” she answered in an impassive voice, not moving her face.

“You misunderstand, Rima. You will be our ultimate sacrifice. You and the children of the enemy. The pure will swim in the blood of the impure, the children of those who stole our land will paint my temple, and you...your heart will break the fast of my fellow gods.” He let his fingers slide down her cheek and over her throat before turning to face Nyola again, for a soft cough from her caught his attention.

Rima watched as Nyola awakened, her spirit sliding back into its meat and her eyes dancing with joy at his appearance. Behind her there was a lush forest path cutting through the stones and dust of the ancient city. She recognized this path, for she’d used it to reach her enemies as quickly as she could, and now she saw how these two were despoiling it for their own ends. A half-dozen children had followed behind her, bound in spiritual chains, water-soaked chains and shrouds that left them unable to do more than whimper, cry out, cling to each other and seek out parents that couldn’t hear them, and couldn’t save them if they could hear the children.

“Ah, your water spirit has done her work well, my devoted love,” the Serpent gloated as he watched the priestess direct the children over to Rima. They sobbed, and recoiled from the wicked woman’s touch, and some cried out in fear at the sight of the Feathered Serpent.

“It is all right, children,” Rima said in a soft, lilting voice, looking upon each one in turn with compassion. “Come to me.” She then glared, dark eyes piercing into Nyola with the first sign of emotion, an anger in her chest.

“Yes, yes, listen to the sweet woman, pequeños niños,” Nyola encouraged, directing them to her. A couple clutched Rima’s legs and others stared up at her, wondering how she could do anything.

“You will come to regret this,” Rima said, her voice grown more quiet but more firm as she narrowed her eyes. “Rest assured.”

“Of course, Rima. Of course.” She laughed and hugged the Feathered Serpent tightly and they kissed, a terribly obscene kiss for children to watch. One that was broken with the first sounds of gunfire, and the first appearance of the bricks of the ancient Aztec temple they stood over.

“Now the government advances our plan,” Feathered Serpent cried out as he started to weave and control the eldritch forces that the spilled blood and bygone magic generated. Slowly, the temple cracked and thrust at the pavements and surrounding buildings as the battle on the streets began in earnest.

“Blow, winds, blow!” Nyola cried out now as the Feathered Serpent carefully called up and constructed the temple. Her own efforts drew in dark clouds and stirred up bitter winds that tore at the small stones and dried dust, making the battle worse, flaring tempers more fiercely. “Crack and crash, let loose your tempests!” Thunder now started to rumble, shaking the land as strokes of lightning laced the skies.

“I used that path of shadows to get here so quickly,” Rima said to Nyola, drawing the priestess’s attentions as the children clung to Rima’s legs tighter now, the storm and the battle and the smell of blood and ozone filling the air making them more and more frightened.

“And?” Nyola jeered, taking a moment to stare back at Rima.

“And you used it to bring the children here,” Rima continued to explain, calm, head held high again.

“And? What is your point? Did you wish some sort of...reward for knowing of the Road to Power?”

“I have all the reward I could want, in these children that know by instinct to trust me to protect them,” she answered. “How sad it must be for you, to know that no child will ever know such an emotion or bond for you.”

Nyola’s face turned red with fury, and she stepped up so she could slap Rima’s face hard. “How dare you?”

“No child shall ever know love from you, nor for you. A sad lot for a woman.” She let her head snap to the side with the vicious blow from the priestess. Slowly she turned to look back at Nyola, smiling sweetly. “But my point is, if I know the Path of Shadows, if you know ‘the Road to Power’, then it only stands to reason that others know it to. And can use it. Even now. Right now.”