The Gravity Myth

The God of Blood Pt. II

In the morning, coyote was gone. The sun had risen, as Huitzilopochtli had promised, and we gave thanks to Guatemac. We packed up and headed back to the priests, to tell them of our encounter with the gods. They listened, then we rejoined our tribe and did as Huitzilopochtli bade.

We left the witch, Malina, behind with her accursed offspring. But not before sacrificing her traitorous paramour, lest he betray us again. Her plagues chased us for a while, but eventually we left them behind too.

The elders made several of us priests, as we had been blessed with Huitzilopochtli's direct commandments. It would not be the last time the gods spoke to me.

We made our way to Lake Tezcoco, when we caught sight of the coyote again. I joined the scouting party that had spotted him, and we trailed through the swamps. The sound began as a soft thrum, and with every step, the distant chorus of drums grew louder. The old coyote would glance back at us occasionally, to make sure we still followed. He led us across the many islands that rose from the waters.

Huehuecoyotl and his boys held court on the island at the center of the lake. He approached us as a man when our party finally caught up to him. We fell to our knees from exhaustion.

He cradled my jaw in his hand, and lifted my face to his gaze. "Close your eyes, young priest. Tell me what do you smell?"

I drew in heavy breaths. "Earth and water. Rain. Fish and fresh mud. The fruit from growing trees."

"Now open those eyes and tell me what colors you see."

I did as he asked. A rainbow pierced the skies, as if to accentuate what I knew to be true. "All of them. Every color of land and sky. They are all here."

"How would you describe this place?"

"Fertile." I threw my arms around Huehuecoyotl and he embraced me in return. I held him tightly, like he might evaporate if I let go. "Is this it? Have we finally found it?" Tears streamed from my face. Generations of us had died without a stable home, and the thought of our journey's end was almost too much to bear.

"Here is where you will wait for his sign, the one promised by your god."

I sent the most hardened scout back to retrieve the others. We gathered on that island for days, praising Huitzilopochtli and begging for his omen. The hunters captured sacrifices from what neighboring tribes there were, and I led the priests in spilling their blood upon our new land. Every offering gave Huitzilopochtli the strength to chase away the deities of the night, allowing the sun to come once more, and with every day came a new chance for him to bestow on us his sign.

One day, a gang of Huehuecoyotl's drummers came running from a hill that overlooked the valley of the lake. They whispered in the old coyote's ear, pointing back at the hill. The god bade us wait for him. He swam away from the island, and did not return until past nightfall.

He reported to us our worst fears. Malinalxochitl's son, Copil, had tracked us to our island. Copil spoke with the tribes whose people we had claimed for sacrifice, and raised an army to wage war on us.

They lay in wait, just over the hill, waiting for dawn to attack. On hearing this, Huitzilopochtli flew into a rage, vowing to never let the sun rise again. Huehuecoyotl brokered a pact to aid us. If we were able to stop the assault, the sun would rise again, we would be granted our omen, and our tribe would expand across the entire valley. For this continued blessing, we would increase our ritual sacrifices, giving greater strength to the sun god.

Huehuecoyotl, of course, would aid us. He feared that if Huitzilopochtli were to run out of offerings, it would one day be his turn to relinquish his energy to the eternal sun.