Chương 159: Chapter 234 - Reliquary

Eventually, a bulky carduk turtle arrived pulling an ornate carriage. The carriage was nothing like the steel-framed spellcarts of Baracuel or Akana. Instead, it had a nest of living vines on the roof. They had draped themselves over the sides, forming leafy doors. The nagual driver—an honor only an Emperor could have—touched her jade focus briefly, and the vines lifted, revealing a plush interior. They traveled with a large honor guard.

Xecatl had said 'prepare a carriage,' but what she'd really meant was 'gather a small army.' As Emperor, she was followed around by nagual, servants, and now, soldiers. Three more carts pulled by carduk turtles joined them, the beasts snorting as they walked at a steady but relentless pace. As they moved up the stone road alongside the river, Xecatl briefed them.

"Myrvite attacks in Tlaxhuaco are rare, but not impossible, hence the guard. I also take precautions any time I take major deviations from timelines. My political position is not so unassailable I don't have enemies." They bumped down the road. Tlaxhuacan suspension systems needed some work, Mirian decided.

"How far is this Veiled Temple?" Jherica asked.

"Two days. We'll travel through the night. There's fresh carduks at Oliutlan, and we'll change this carriage out for a larger carriage with beds. There will be runners already moving ahead with my orders."

"No zephyr falcons?" Jherica asked.

"We don't use them. Too easy to capture and intercept. There's a simple enough spirit-construct that can lure them in, and then the message can be read and changed out."

"Oh. Oh! You can do that?" Xecatl smiled at the wizard.

"Of course, Prophets can just intercept the message before it's sent," Mirian noted. But that's an interesting capability. It might have been useful when she was iterating on the Battle of Torrviol, but it didn't seem like Baracuel or Akana had the capability to take down zephyr falcons. There was no reason to change their communication protocols. That will mean keeping Xecatl informed will be annoying, though. Mirian passed the time by looking for spirits in the myrvite flora they passed.

The countryside was mostly full of farms, though Tlaxhuacan farm practices were drastically different than the monoculture fields she was used to. Xecatl was happy enough to discuss it.

"There's an abundance of insects here, and the worst of them aren't actually myrvites. Those pitcher-plants lure in one group of insects, while the scent of those white flowers over there repel another. Each field is ringed with briars to keep larger herbivores from wandering in. I'm told our farming is more labor intensive than yours, but our agriculturists say each field is more productive than its Akanan equivalent." The ecology seemed interesting, but Mirian didn't have the slightest clue about farming.

Still, one thing stood out to her.

"None of these farming practices can be copied by any of the other countries," she said.

"The climates are too different. Most of the myrvites you're using here wouldn't grow in open fields."

"Well, we have the spellwards," Jherica said cheerfully. Then after a moment of thought, "Oh, right, we need to stop using those. Hm. That is a problem. Do you think that Viridian fellow might know a thing or two?"

"He does, but the farming practices would need to be changed across two continents. How fast can an agricultural revolution be spread?" Jherica considered that, even though Mirian had meant the question to be rhetorical.

"I think it took about a hundred years for Akanan agriculture to be modernized, and it's still a process." Changing agricultural practices is also dangerous, Mirian considered. Screwing up something like that could lead to famines. Land reforms in Baracuel had kicked off at least two of the many wars in the decades prior to Unification. She'd also read about some crisis during the early Triarchy where administrative changes in the bureaucracy had combined with a minor drought to cause a terrible famine.

"We have time to test it," she said.

"We can use greenhouses like Viridian's to simulate the climatic conditions. We can gather soil samples from all across Akana, Persama, and Baracuel to use. We can test what plants best repel the local myrvites. Then, the reforms can be staggered, just in case." Jherica raised an eyebrow.

"You know how much time that sort of research would take?"

"A long time," Mirian said with a sigh. Just like all the research I've done. When only a handful of people can remember the progress, everything takes far too long. Xecatl said, "It's a good idea, but you'd only have two months of growth data at best. That wouldn't uncover problems such as soil depletion. It might also miss certain insects with hibernation cycles, parasites with longer life cycles, and migratory birds. Ever seen a flock of wisp-crows pick apart a field?" Mirian had not.

The nagual Emperor continued.

"Confining the experiment to a greenhouse also would mean not studying the effect of any populations you didn't bring along." Mirian sighed.

"Another intractable problem. They seem easier to gather than breath." Her tone was more bitter than she had intended.

"If we can find a Gate…" Jherica said, then became lost in thought.

"The leyline detectors will be useless for finding it here. The Elder Gates seemed to be in pre-Cataclysm cities, but most of them were buried by the Cataclysm. I don't suppose you have extensive historical records you can search?"

"We do," Xecatl said.

"I ordered the search to begin last cycle."

"Ah, good," she said. I didn't even have to tell her, she just picked up on what to do from my explanations of discovering the Gates. So what's Gabriel's excuse? The carriage continued as the conversation tapered off, and Mirian turned her attention back to the souls and spirits they passed.

The river by Oliutlan was full of picturesque waterfalls and cascading rapids. The smaller city also had its own network of canals. They only stayed long enough to refresh their supplies and swap carriages, though. The larger carriage was much nicer, though Mirian was awoken by the jostling as they moved from the paved road along the river to the dirt roads of the countryside. She spent some time listening to the sounds of the Tlaxhuacan jungle at night. It was surprising how noisy the jungle was.

There was some sort of insect that made a constant racket, punctuated by the periodic calls of nocturnal birds and beasts. As she looked out the carriage window, she'd occasionally see a flash of magic as some myrvite used a natural spell. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She eventually went back to sleep. The next day found them winding up switchbacks of mountain roads. The countryside was nice, but Mirian had begun to grow bored of how slow the travel was.

Levitation and trains were so much faster. Eventually, the trail became too steep and rocky for the carriages and they proceeded on the back of some sort of strange beast Mirian had never seen or heard of.

"Wikpaquas," Xecatl said.

"Don't challenge them to a staring contest and you'll be fine." The wikpaquas were some sort of mammal with a long neck and thick golden fur that glowed slightly. Their feet had something halfway between hooves and two toes.

"What happens if you do?" Jherica asked, looking a bit nervous.

"They breathe fire." Jherica gave a nervous giggle. Mirian rolled her eyes.

"If you're worried, just cast a fire shield spell."

"And hold it for several hours?" Mirian had to remind herself not everyone trained as neurotically as she did.

"It would be good practice."

"The nagual will make sure they don't get too rowdy," Xecatl said.

"But they're intelligent animals. They'll know if you're disrespecting them. Just be polite and kind, and they'll happily carry you."

"Hah! Words to live by," the wizard said. The elevation gain did a little to alleviate the searing midday sun. The mountains here were steep and jagged. Newly formed, at least compared to the Littenord, Mirian thought. Soon enough, they could see patches of snow hidden in the shade. At the top of the pass was the Veiled Temple. It was massive—easily the size of the Grand Sanctum—and to the sides of the temple were two massive walls that blocked the rest of the pass.

It was clear the temple here was much older than any of the buildings she'd seen in Uxalak. The stone was cared for, but still weathered. Once, the stone had been painted bright, but time and sunlight had caused the pigments to fade into the barest hints of color. The thin spiny pillars of the temple were the most interesting. It was like statues of myrvites and Elder creatures had been wound around each other, then stretched into narrow points.

Interestingly enough, she recognized at least one of the Elder creatures. Those look like Conductor and Eyeball, she mused. Were these built by people who had seen Elder creatures in the flesh?

"So… is this Veiled Temple where the spot I detected is?" Mirian asked as they approached.

"No," Xecatl said.

"It guards it. The point you detected is in the valley this overlooks. If I told you what was there, the very next words out of your mouth would be, 'I need to go there,' so I hope you'll forgive me for this bit of fun." A sly smirk played across her face.

"It's not really a laughing matter, but it's a reaction you only get to see once, and I've found myself craving novelty after these decades of repetition." As they approached, an honor guard wearing bright feathered helms and cloaks opened the temple gates for them. They disembarked, the vine doors on the carriage creaking as they slithered open. Inside the temple, there was a courtyard and a fountain made of jade.

The temple stilled as they approached the fountain, two lines of priests making a corridor for them to walk between. Emperor Xecatl knelt by the fountain, arms raised and said a prayer in Tlaxa. As one, the priests and guards repeated it. She turned to her fellow Prophets and said, "We mourn still." Mirian's brow furrowed. The priests parted, and they moved around the fountain to a set of double-doors on the other side of the courtyard. Xecatl hesitated at the gates.

"I would ask you keep this secret from the other Prophets until Tlaxhuaco has recognized them as trustworthy. But Enteria comes first."

"It does," Mirian affirmed. Xecatl pushed against the heavy gates and they swung open easily. There was a stone terrace that overlooked the valley below, and a staircase to the side that led to a winding switchback trail that would reach it. As they moved to the edge of the terrace and looked out, it took Mirian a moment to understand what she was looking at. At first, she thought it was a massive formation of jade, sparkling brightly in the sunlight, the faint wisps of jungle clouds decorating the spires.

There were myrvite trees and vines growing at the edges of the jade formation, but like none she'd ever seen. The leaves of the trees glistened with subtle prismatic light. The vines were so large, and their flowers equally gargantuan that she could see their brilliant color from the formation that had to be three miles away. Then, she realized it wasn't a geologic formation at all. Those massive arches that had been shattered in their center—looked like a rib cage.

That jagged sheet of jade that looked to have shattered a nearby hill—it looked like a wing, the whorls in it resembling eyes. The two ridges were like arms. The shattered dome perhaps had once been a face, and the cylinders of stone that lay broken about it, vine-like hair. At the base of the valley, there were a series of small structures with people, showing just how massive the thing in the valley was. Mirian sucked in a breath as she realized what—or who —she was looking at.

"Xylatarvia," she whispered.

"Blessed is Her name," Xecatl said, reverently.

"Our savior. The Lady of Life. The Guardian of the Hearth. The Speaker of Worlds. She who taught us of spirits. She who guided the lost home…" Jherica let out a gasp, and then tears ran down their cheeks freely. Their mouth gaped open, and then a deep grief ran through them. They fell to their knees, weeping, but unable to tear their gaze away from the sight. Mirian felt that same grief, but she stood.

"…and She sacrificed Herself to defend that home. She of life, still nurtures the Enteria in Her death." Mirian felt her mind whirling. The scene seemed so familiar. Then she realized where she'd seen something similar—in the basement of the Cult of Zomalator, there was a painting that showed a similar corpse; a colossal body of white stone being excavated like a quarry. With a shock, she realized that the painting had been a literal depiction.

"Gods above," she said." That's what the celestial focuses are made out of? The literal corpses of dead Elder Gods? How do they—why—how?"

"This is not truly Xylatarvia," Xecatl said.

"The Elder Gods are beyond what we can comprehend. To interact with the mundane world, they created vessels. This was Hers."

"Elder reliquaries," Mirian said, closing her eyes. That's why Xipuatl translated the term that way. Even if he didn't know the reason. Opening them again, she stared at the divine corpse—or container. A fraction of what She was.

"Then She is also dead." Emperor Xecatl nodded.

"Our priests have studied the cosmic mysteries for generations. Every so often, a whisper from Xylatarvia reaches us. I have never heard them, but I must imagine they are like what the Ominian whispers to us. She is dead, but not fully, if Her visions can still reach us. The Gods do not experience death like we do." Understanding swept through Mirian.

"The fields of time," she said.

"Their actions are spread across so many different continuities, Their presence has affected so many paths, that we continue to see Them. It could take centuries for the echoes to fade."

"Millennia," Xecatl said. Jherica couldn't tear their gaze away from the celestial jade below. Their face was still wet with tears as they spoke in a reverent whisper.

"It's been millennia. What happens when the death is final?" Mirian fell into contemplation. She still felt that lingering awe. How could she not? These things they were dealing with—they were so far beyond the scope of humanity, it was inconceivable. And yet, we have to understand enough.

"It's connected to the collapse of the Divir moon. The Ominian's corpse—or vessel, perhaps—is there. When They fall to Enteria… it must be connected to that eldritch light that erupts. The one that kills us all." She paused, looking past Xylatarvia's jade, trying to imagine it connected through not just another spatial dimension, but two dimensions in time. What would it mean to move through the fields of time like a child at play, in any direction they choose?

Circling back, criss-crossing paths—and what does that mean for causality? Her thoughts seemed impossible to speak. For a long time, she stood there, finding she was unable to communicate through words. They were insufficient. Glyphs and runes floated through her mind; they seemed like better representations of what she was trying to say. At last, Mirian spoke of a related thought, one she at least could put to words.

"It's also connected to the temporal anchors. It's not just the leyline collapse, or returning the artifacts wouldn't change the length of the cycle." She shook her head.

"But how does it all fit together? Will the Gates and regulators be enough?" Silence passed around them. The jungle clinging to the mountains was silent here, as if even the insects were in mourning. The only sound was a soft wind rippling the leaves, like a distant waterfall. At last, Xecatl stirred, moving for the winding stair that would take them to the valley below.

"Let us see what whispers Xylatarvia will share."