Fools Gold Ch 04 1

"You're murdering that poor reed," Xanat observed, her weathered hands working with practiced precision while Tulio's clumsy fingers tangled in another hopeless knot. "Did your mother teach you nothing?"

The weaving circle had gathered in the cool shade of a flowering jacaranda tree, where golden afternoon light dappled through purple blossoms to dance across the courtyard stones. A dozen women sat in comfortable formation, their bronze legs tucked beneath colorful skirts or crossed in easy postures, fingers flying across intricate baskets that seemed to grow organically from their hands.

Tulio, meanwhile, had produced what looked like a drunken armadillo's attempt at architecture.

"Maybe she grew up in the mountains," offered Nenetl kindly, her round face creased with sympathy. "Some villages don't practice the traditional weaving."

"Nonsense," sniffed Elder Izel, whose silver-streaked hair was adorned with jade beads that clicked softly when she shook her head. "Every girl learns. It's as natural as breathing."

Tulio shifted uncomfortably on her cushion, painfully aware of how her borrowed body felt in this feminine circle--the weight of her breasts against the thin fabric of her top, the press of her thick thighs against each other as she attempted to mimic the other women's graceful cross-legged postures. Sweat gathered in the hollow between her collarbones, trickling down between her breasts in a sensation that still startled her.

"I just... haven't practiced in a while," she improvised, yanking at a particularly stubborn reed that seemed determined to stab her under the fingernail.

Elder Izel clicked her tongue. "The Chief will expect better. A woman who cannot weave a sturdy basket cannot weave a sturdy future."

"The Chief isn't... selecting me for my weaving skills," Tulio muttered.

This prompted a chorus of knowing giggles from the younger women.

"No, he's marrying you for those childbearing hips," cackled Yaretzi, a sharp-featured beauty with obsidian eyes. "The royal bloodline flows through sturdy channels, eh?"

"I am NOT marrying--" Tulio began hotly, but was interrupted by Nenetl.

"The offering basket must be perfect," she insisted, reaching over to gently correct Tulio's mangled attempt. "Tonight is the Joining Ritual."

"The... what now?" Tulio's fingers froze mid-weave.

Elder Izel's eyes narrowed. "You've forgotten the Joining Ritual as well? Where have you been hiding all these years, child? Under a stone?"

"She's been... practicing other skills," Yaretzi smirked, prompting another round of giggles.

"Yes, skills that earned her the gods' favor," added Nenetl with a wink. "And the Chief's."

Tulio's eye twitched as she stabbed another reed into her basket. Across the courtyard, she could see Miguel and Chel lounging beneath a golden pergola draped in vivid bougainvillea, accepting grapes from giggling attendants. Chel caught her eye and raised Tulio's stolen hand in a mocking wave.

"The way Chel sits now," Xanat observed, following Tulio's gaze. "Like a man sprawling after battle. The gods have changed her."

"In more ways than you know," Tulio muttered.

"But they chose you as vessel," Elder Izel reminded her, deftly weaving a complex pattern that seemed to shimmer in the late afternoon light. "Tonight, when the Chief takes you in the sacred mating press--"

"The WHAT?" Tulio nearly upended her basket.

"The mating press," repeated Elder Izel impatiently. "When he pins your ankles beside your ears and drives the sacred seed to the very gates of your womb. Surely you remember this position from the temple teachings?"

Tulio stared at her in horror. "That's not... we're not..."

"Oh, the Chief's technique is legendary," Yaretzi sighed dreamily. "My sister said he held her down so firmly she couldn't move properly for three days afterward. His seed was so plentiful it leaked from her for a week."

"I heard he likes to grip the ankles," added a freckled girl whose name Tulio hadn't caught. "Keeps them high and wide while he pounds the divine offering home."

"It's all about the angle," nodded Nenetl knowledgeably. "The deeper the seed is planted, the stronger the child will grow."

Tulio's reed basket had transformed from merely ugly to actively hostile, with sharp spikes jutting at dangerous angles. "Maybe we could talk about... literally anything else?"

"The fertility offerings!" Nenetl clapped her hands. "We must prepare the basket perfectly! Elder Izel, what shall we include?"

The old woman's fingers never stopped their intricate dance as she spoke. "Butterfly orchid for potency. Quetzal feathers for virility. Honey cakes soaked in sacred pulque. Obsidian blade for the blood covenant--"

"Blood covenant?" Tulio squeaked.

"Just a small cut on the palm," Nenetl assured her. "The mixing of your blood with the Chief's seed ensures strong offspring."

"And the pearl dust," added Yaretzi wickedly. "To make his manhood swell to godly proportions."

"As if he needs help in that department," snickered another woman, setting off a fresh wave of laughter.

Tulio looked desperately toward Miguel and Chel again, hoping for rescue. Instead, she saw a group of priest's attendants approaching Altivo, who was contentedly munching flowers from a stone planter.

"The sacred steed must be prepared for tonight's ceremony," one intoned, slipping an ornate bridle over Altivo's head. The horse snorted, tossing his mane in annoyance.

"Ceremony?" Tulio called out, half-rising from her cushion. "What ceremony?"

"The trial, of course," Elder Izel answered. "All virgin brides must face the trial before the Chief claims them."

"I'm not a-- WHAT trial?" Tulio's voice cracked with panic.

"Virgin in the spiritual sense," Yaretzi corrected, eyeing Tulio's curvaceous form skeptically.

"But that's--" Tulio's protest was cut short as Elder Izel rapped her knuckles sharply.

"Enough chatter. Finish your offering basket, child. The sun wanes, and tonight's ceremony waits for no one. Not even the gods' chosen vessel."

Across the courtyard, Altivo looked back at Tulio, his intelligent eyes filled with what seemed like concern as the priests led him toward the temple steps. A chill ran down Tulio's spine despite the warm afternoon air.

"Don't worry about your basket," Nenetl whispered kindly. "I'll help you finish it before sunset. We can't have the Chief disappointed on his wedding night, can we?"

"Wedding?" Tulio's voice was barely a squeak now. "This is not a-"

"Of course!" Yaretzi laughed. "Why else would we be preparing the fertility offerings? Tonight, you become the vessel for the future of El Dorado!"

The women resumed their weaving, chattering excitedly about the ceremony to come. Tulio stared down at her mangled basket, a sense of doom settling over her like the evening shadows creeping across the courtyard stones. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously across the golden city.

"I hate this body," she muttered, jabbing another reed into the increasingly dangerous-looking basket. "And I really, really hate Chel."

Xanat leaned closer, her bone needle flashing through the reeds with effortless precision. "They say the basket foretells the marriage," she observed, eyeing Tulio's spiky creation. "Yours suggests... interesting challenges ahead."

"It suggests I should never have touched a reed in my life," Tulio muttered, yanking her finger back as another splinter lodged under her nail. "Ow! These things are weapons!"

"Here," Nenetl offered, her gentle hands correcting Tulio's grip. "Like this. Firm but flexible. Just like a good wife."

The women dissolved into giggles again. Tulio gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the basket rather than the increasingly explicit marriage advice being offered from all sides.

"When he mounts you," Elder Izel was saying to the rapt circle, "remember to arch your back like the sacred jaguar. It helps receive the seed more deeply."

"And don't forget to squeeze afterward," added Yaretzi with a wink. "Hold his cum inside you as long as possible."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tulio said weakly, feeling her cheeks burn.

"Has your monthly blood come recently?" asked Xanat without looking up from her perfect weaving. "The timing is important for conception."

Tulio nearly dropped her basket. "My... what?"

The women exchanged concerned glances.

"Your moon cycle," Elder Izel clarified impatiently. "Surely you haven't forgotten that too?"

"I've... been irregular," Tulio improvised wildly. "With all the... divine vessel... stuff happening."

"Envy has made us cruel," Nenetl interjected softly, her kind eyes meeting Tulio's. "We forget that Chel has carried burdens we cannot imagine."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the soft rustle of reeds and distant birdsong.

"It's true," sighed Yaretzi, setting aside her basket to stretch luxuriantly. "The gods chose your body from all of ours. Who are we to question divine taste?"

"The fertility of your hips is legendary," agreed Xanat with a hint of reluctant admiration. "Ever since we were girls, the elders said your body was blessed by Ixchel herself. I bet you could give birth to a village without a stretch mark."

"Those breasts alone could feed triplets," Elder Izel nodded sagely. "The perfect vessel for the Chief's legacy."

Tulio glanced down at her borrowed body, seeing it suddenly through their eyes--the generous curves, the fertile roundness, the bronze skin gleaming with health. Chel had been both blessed and cursed by this beauty, it seemed.

"I never asked for this body," she found herself saying truthfully.

"And modest too," cooed Nenetl, completely misunderstanding. "No wonder the gods favor you."

A shadow fell across their circle. Tulio looked up to see Tzekel-Kan standing over them, his angular face set in its perpetual expression of disdainful superiority. The high priest's jade and obsidian ornaments caught the late afternoon light, sending green-black reflections dancing across the stones.

"The chosen of the gods are summoned," he announced, his voice carrying that unsettling combination of silken politeness and underlying menace. "The ceremony of Xibalba awaits."

The weaving circle fell silent, women lowering their eyes respectfully as the priest's gaze swept over them.

"The underworld journey?" Elder Izel asked, obvious concern in her voice. "Tonight, before the Joining? But the vessel must be purified for--"

"The gods have spoken," Tzekel-Kan cut her off smoothly. "Their divine presence honors us with a most sacred visitation to the realm below. Who are we to question their divine will?"

His eyes fixed on Tulio, gleaming with something that looked disturbingly like anticipation. "The vessel will accompany them, naturally. To... attend to their needs."

Tulio's stomach clenched. Something about the way he said it, the barely concealed eagerness in his voice, set alarm bells ringing.

"But her basket isn't finished," Nenetl protested, holding up Tulio's mangled creation. "The offering isn't ready!"

"The gods require no crude offerings of reed and clay," Tzekel-Kan dismissed with a wave of his bony hand. "They command a journey to Xibalba. Now."

Across the courtyard, Tulio could see that Miguel and Chel had already been corralled by a group of attendant priests. Miguel was attempting to stuff several golden trinkets into his robes while Chel was arguing with an acolyte who had apparently interrupted something enjoyable.

"I was just getting to the good part of my divine..." she was saying, gesturing expansively with Tulio's gangly arms.

"Now, Chel," Tzekel-Kan's voice carried a subtle threat beneath the silky surface. "We wouldn't want to keep the gods waiting, would we?"

Tulio reluctantly set down her disaster of a basket and rose, feeling the eyes of the weaving circle on her as she smoothed down her clothing. Nenetl caught her hand briefly.

"Be careful," the kind woman whispered. "The underworld journey is not to be taken lightly, even with divine protection."

"Oh great," Tulio muttered under her breath. "That's comforting."

As she crossed the courtyard to join Miguel and Chel, Elder Izel called after her: "Remember what I told you about the sacred jaguar pose! For afterward!"

Tulio felt her face flame as Tzekel-Kan's eyebrow rose imperceptibly. The priest said nothing, but something in his expression made her skin crawl.

"What's this about an underworld journey?" she hissed as she reached Miguel and Chel. "And where did they take Altivo?"

"Apparently we're going on a field trip to Xibalba," Miguel whispered back, still trying to cram a small golden statuette into his robe. "Very prestigious, very divine, totally normal god stuff."

"Which would be fine," Chel added sourly, "if I hadn't been right in the middle of a very promising divine blessing with those lovely attendants. Did you know your body can--"

"I don't want to know," Tulio cut her off sharply.

Tzekel-Kan glided up beside them, his movements unnervingly smooth. "The preparations are complete. If the gods will follow me?"

The priest led them away from the sunny courtyard, through a series of increasingly shadowy corridors. The air grew cooler, heavy with the scent of copal incense and something else--something mineral and ancient. The walls were carved with elaborate scenes of figures descending into monstrous jaws, facing trials of fire and water, encountering demonic creatures with bat wings and jaguar claws.

"Cheery decor," Miguel whispered, edging closer to Tulio as they descended a particularly dark staircase. "Really brightens the place up."

"The iconography of Xibalba is not meant to comfort, but to warn," Tzekel-Kan called back without turning. "The underworld tests all who enter its domain."

"Tests?" Tulio squeaked. "What kind of tests?"

"Nothing that true gods would fear," the priest replied, his voice echoing strangely in the narrow passage. "Merely challenges to prove one's... divine nature."

"Of course," Miguel laughed nervously. "Divine tests for divine beings. Just our regular Tuesday, right partner?"

"Right," agreed Chel, though her expression had grown serious. She leaned closer to Tulio and Miguel. "Something's off here. Xibalba journeys are ceremonial--symbolic descents guided by priests. But this..." she gestured at the increasingly elaborate carvings surrounding them, "this looks like he's taking us to the real thing."

"There's a real Xibalba?" Miguel's voice cracked slightly. "With real underworld demons and jaguar monsters and all those delightful things carved on the walls?"

"Not exactly," Chel whispered back. "But every major temple has a sacred labyrinth beneath it--a physical representation of the underworld, used for initiation rites. Or sometimes..."

"Sometimes what?" Tulio prompted when Chel fell silent.

"Sometimes for disposing of troublesome visitors," Chel finished grimly.

They had reached an elaborate doorway carved with writhing serpents and leering bat-creatures. Tzekel-Kan turned to face them, his eyes glittering in the torchlight like polished obsidian.

"Beyond this threshold lies the realm of Xibalba," he intoned, his voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of ritual. "Lords of death and decay, where souls are tested and judged. Only those of true divine nature may enter and return."

He fixed them with that unsettling stare. "The gods, of course, will find it a mere curiosity. A pleasant diversion. Unless..." his lip curled slightly, "they have something to hide."

"Hide? Us?" Miguel laughed too loudly. "What would gods have to hide? We're completely open books! Divine, transparent, nothing-to-fear-from-underworld-journeys... books."

"Indeed," Tzekel-Kan's smile never reached his eyes. "Then you will have no objection to leaving your... mortal treasures behind." He gestured to the acolytes, who stepped forward expectantly.

"Treasures?" Miguel clutched his robe protectively.

"Gold and jewels are mere trinkets to true gods," the priest said smoothly. "Distractions in the sacred journey. You will, of course, want to enter Xibalba... unencumbered."

"Right! Absolutely!" Miguel reluctantly began emptying his pockets, producing an astonishing quantity of small golden objects. "Just some souvenirs. Tiny mementos. Practically weightless."

The acolytes collected the confiscated treasures while Tzekel-Kan watched with barely concealed contempt. When they had finished, he gestured toward a large ceremonial goblet being carried forward by another priest.

"The sacred drink," he announced, "to prepare your spirits for the journey."

"Is that really necessary?" Tulio asked nervously, eyeing the smoking liquid.

"It is tradition," Tzekel-Kan insisted. "Even for gods."

Miguel sniffed the goblet suspiciously. "Smells like that time behind the tavern in Seville."

"Bottoms up," Chel said with a shrug, taking the goblet and downing a healthy swallow before passing it to Miguel. He hesitated, then did the same.

When it came to Tulio, she raised the cup to her lips but didn't drink, watching Tzekel-Kan over the rim. The priest's eyes were fixed on them with an intensity that confirmed her suspicions. Whatever was in this cup, it wasn't just ceremonial wine.

She lowered the goblet, pretending to have drunk. "Delicious," she lied. "Very... underworld-y."

Tzekel-Kan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, instead turning to the massive doors. He raised his arms dramatically, his voice rising to fill the chamber.

"We call upon the Lords of Xibalba to open the way! We bring offerings of flesh and spirit, to be tested in the sacred darkness!"

The doors swung inward with a grinding sound, revealing a pitch-black void beyond. Cold air rushed out, carrying that strange mineral scent, now stronger and mixed with something else--something that smelled disturbingly like decay.

"The gods will lead the way," Tzekel-Kan gestured toward the darkness, his smile too wide, too eager. "As is their divine right."

Miguel swayed slightly, blinking rapidly. Beside him, Chel's movements had become oddly sluggish, her eyelids drooping. Whatever had been in that goblet was taking effect.

"After you," Tulio said to Tzekel-Kan, playing for time. "You know the way better than we do."

"The high priest merely facilitates," he replied smoothly. "Only the divine may cross this threshold first. Unless..." his voice dropped to a silky challenge, "you fear what awaits within?"

Miguel stumbled forward, his movements becoming increasingly uncoordinated. "Nothing to fear!" he declared, his words slightly slurred. "Divine beings, remember? Let's go... visit the... skull people!"

Before Tulio could stop him, Miguel stepped through the doorway and vanished into the darkness. Chel followed, her movements mechanical, as though her borrowed body was operating without her full control.

"Your turn, vessel," Tzekel-Kan's voice hardened.

Trapped between the priest's suspicion and the unknown dangers beyond, Tulio took a deep breath and stepped forward. The darkness swallowed her like a living thing, cold and absolute. She heard the heavy doors grinding shut behind her, cutting off the torchlight from the corridor.

For a moment, there was nothing--no light, no sound, just the pounding of her heart and the cold stone beneath her feet. Then a distant grinding noise reached her ears, growing louder with alarming speed.

The floor beneath her shifted, then disappeared entirely.

Tulio screamed as she plummeted into darkness, Tzekel-Kan's mocking laughter echoing above her.

The floor beneath them shuddered. Tulio reached for Miguel, but it was too late--a section of the floor dropped away, plunging them into darkness.

The fall felt endless. Tulio tumbled through darkness, arms flailing, her borrowed body twisting as she plummeted down what felt like the throat of some massive beast. Miguel's panicked shout and Chel's string of curses echoed alongside her own scream.