Rating: NC-17

He saw a dog... a large, thick-coated, gray dog... with blue eyes and sharp teeth, a dog that moved at ease through the jungle. Mahoute knew this creature didn't belong there... and yet it did. It ran lightly over vines, threaded its way through trees and undergrowth, over rocks and mud.... And beside it ran its soulmate -- a beautiful, sleek, well-formed black jaguar. They were perfectly matched, these two -- soul bonded -- and not even the gods with their spells and tricks could part them.

Mahoute knew the dog. It had been with him since he was a small boy. It guided him, protected him in the world of spirits and gods, and in the world of men. However, the cat.... Oh, his soul and body yearned to know this cat. Briefly, the dog shared its joy with Mahoute -- how good it was to run beside the cat, to feel alive, to be filled with a sense of purpose... invigorated, strong and wise... and something else, something the priest had yet to name.

The air was suddenly filled with a perfume that clashed with the scent of the jungle and slowly his other senses began to awaken. He opened his eyes to see a shape, outlined in the glow of the sun, which slowly took human form as his eyes cleared. It was Chimalma, the priestess of the moon serpent, sitting across from him, waiting for him to return. She looked young and enthusiastic. "Well?" she asked.

Mahoute found his tongue stiff and coated. He struggled to form the words. "I need time to process what I learned."

"I hear you," she said, after a moment. "Just... when you are ready, I'm here for you. You know that, yes?"

"Yes, Mom." Mahoute smiled.

He broke his fast and was washed, and then his two slaves again placed his robes of office, his loincloth and apron, around his body. He dismissed his slaves and took up his chain of beaten gold. It felt heavy and cold as he hung it around his neck. He replaced his earrings and tied his hair back.

His eyes moved to the small brown jar containing the mescalin laced with cacao and honey that he'd taken to give him the sight. He picked it up and watched the thick liquid swirl, coating the sides. For a moment, he was once again in the jungle. It had been so real. The vision offered him so much, the link between him and the jaguar was so strong, but the vision wouldn't, or couldn't, tell him where or when he would meet his mate. The dark liquid looked so innocent, but it was a powerful drug, and the sense of freedom it gave was intoxicating and addictive. He put the jar down quickly before he was tempted.

"Mahoute!" He turned to see his elderly blind mentor, Tupac, enter his chambers. Once a high priest, the old man had ruined his eyesight by gazing too long at the sun. Now, he taught the young acolytes. No Maya was ever deemed redundant in their society, even those blind and walking with the aid of a stick.

"I understand that you've not discussed your vision with anyone yet, my young friend. How do you hope to interpret your walk with the spirits if you are not willing to share it?" he asked.

"How can I be sure that anyone else's interpretation will be any more correct than my own? I have to think this through myself," Mahoute replied, though Tupac could hear the measure of doubt that clouded his words.

"Ah, Mahoute, you still have much to learn. Tell me what you saw. Put it into words, that you may understand your vision."

Mahoute looked inside himself. "I saw a dog."

"A coyote?"

"Perhaps.... This beast was furrier though, heavier, and it seemed very intelligent. It belongs in a colder climate." Mahoute wasn't sure how he knew that, just that he did. "It runs with a black jaguar." He looked up to try and gauge his mentor's opinion, but the pale globes which once were eyes hid the man's thoughts.

"And this vision disturbs you," Tupac stated.

"It unsettles me. You know that I have my doubts about the blood sacrifices. They never seem to appease the gods. I just wonder if...."

"You are just nervous, Mahoute. I remember the first time I stood atop the temple steps, the sacrifice lying in front of me, held by the legs and arms. He looked so peaceful. The peyote helped calm his soul. I, on the other hand, was sweating like a tapir in heat! But once the knife cut into his chest and his life was given, there was such a feeling of wonder, all my doubts were swept away."

The old priest couldn't see the shudder that shook Mahoute's body. "Tell me about the new prisoners. They are Toltec, yes?" he enquired, hoping that his mentor would understand that he needed to change the subject.

Tupac sat down on Mahoute's bed, his cane held in both hands. He rested his chin on the top. "You have heard tales of the Toltec all your life. They once ruled our people. They were at once brilliant, yet cruel. We adopted their gods and made them our own. Now, they are our prisoners and our small empire rules over them." The old man shook his head, "And one day all that we know will be washed away and the Aztecs will rule us all."

"Another vision?"

"Partly. I know our people, Mahoute; they grow too lazy. And the Aztec are an ambitious race. The time will come, and soon." Tupac stood. "You will soon see these warrior Toltec. The head priest will send for you. You are to be there when one is chosen for your first sacrifice. It will be your responsibility and honor to prepare him for his journey to the thirteen heavens, or nine hells, wherever the gods see fit to send him."

From his balcony window, Kukulkan, King of the Maya could see the proselytes waiting for Nasca, the high priest. He sighed. Nasca was a dangerous man. He had so much power and influence.... If he even suspected that Kukulkan was not what he seemed, then, king or not, Kukulkan would meet the gods on the temple summit, and Nasca would be wielding the knife.

The king studied the mask he held in his hand. No one must ever know who he really was. No one.

A line of ten prisoners was pulled into the square. Some stumbled and almost fell, but one in particular drew Mahoute's eye. He was taller than most of the men the priest had seen, with a muscular chest that gleamed in the sun and strong, muscular arms and legs. His hair had been cut short, but it was his eyes that Mahoute noticed the most. They were blue, as blue as the heavens at midday. Something startled the prisoner and his eyes darted up towards the king's balcony far above. Mahoute turned and followed his glance, but he couldn't see anything unusual. As he turned back, he gazed into the frank regard of the prisoner, and his heart stopped. Look into the jaguar's eyes and you would see the future, his mother used to tell him and Mahoute would laugh. If you got that close to a jaguar, you would know your future. But now, as Mahoute held the gaze of the Toltec warrior... Mahoute knew -- he just KNEW -- that this man was a Guardian -- a man with heightened senses who guarded his king, a man able to see before others saw, sense what others couldn't -- and the jaguar of Mahoute's visions. He could feel the tug of a link, a connection, between them. The young priest swallowed. How could he see this man dead?

Nasca was saying something and Mahoute drew his mind back to listen. "...so we must choose a special sacrifice for the son of Chimalma, our serpent priestess, to make to the gods. I understand there is one among you who worships the jaguar. Which of you is it?"

None of the men spoke. They all hung their heads except one, the blue-eyed warrior. He stood proud and straight. Nasca's eyes narrowed speculatively and he stepped up to the man. "What is your name?" His voice was smooth and quiet.

"Heumac."

"Ah, then you are the Toltec Guardian of your king?" Nasca's voice carried his cynicism to all.

All of the priests laughed, but not Mahoute.

Heumac stood still as Nasca walked around him. "You will have this one, Mahoute. Take him, use him, but do not make him bleed. His blood goes to our god, Tonatinh."

Mahoute paced his chambers. He'd removed his robe and collars and wore only the lose tunic that was his nightwear. As he walked, he was thinking frantically. Suppose this Heumac wants to go to the gods before his time? He's a proud warrior with no hope of returning to his people. He may prefer death to dishonor. Well, I don't care! I will NOT allow this man to die, not by my hand nor any other. He WILL live... somehow... somehow... I'll make sure of that.

Mahoute had ordered the man be washed and brought before him. It was accepted that the priests might choose to pleasure themselves with the captives, and Mahoute had twenty days before Heumac was to die. Just twenty days to find a way to save him. Mahoute's hands echoed his agitated thoughts, moving as if they had a life of their own.

"Do you always talk with your hands, Priest?" The sardonic voice of the Toltec warrior brought a stop to Mahoute's pacing and he stared at the man in the doorway.

Heumac was naked, flanked by two guards, his hands bound in front of his genitals. He looked every inch a warrior, his skin smooth, tanned and muscular. Mahoute felt his cock stir at the sight, and Heumac smiled a feral smile. Of course, Mahoute thought. He has heightened senses. He knows how aroused I am at his presence. This will not help the conversation we must have, unless he is interested in me and somehow I can use that. It's unethical but....

"Leave us," Mahoute instructed the guards. When they didn't move, he repeated the order more forcefully. "LEAVE US!"

Heumac looked for all the world as though he found the whole thing amusing. He watched as the guards quickly left, and then turned back to Mahoute.

"Tell me," Mahoute began, "how does one with such gifts as yours get captured?"

Heumac shrugged his shoulders. "Pure luck, I guess."

"You do know that you only have twenty days left to live?"

"So your high priest said. A lot can happen in twenty days." Heumac's eyes met Mahoute's and the young priest breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank Hunab! I thought for a minute that you wanted to die!"

Heumac shook his head. "No sane man wants to die, Priest." The man frowned in suspicion. "But why would a priest of Tonatinh want me to live? I thought you wanted me to die for your sun god."

Mahoute poured himself a drink of water, trying to marshal his thoughts. "I don't want to be the instrument of your death. Is that so wrong?"

He felt Heumac's eyes burn into him. "Not from my point of view. I just find it hard to believe...?" The warrior paused, clearly waiting for a name.

"Mahoute," the priest prompted.

"Mahoute. I find it hard to believe that you would want to save me. Why?" he insisted.

"Because... you are a Guardian. There are so very few of them about. You have special gifts... and because I could be your guide."

Heumac looked skeptical, and then asked, "My men... what will happen to them?"

"They are not as high ranking as you. Some will die as sacrifices; the others will become slaves."

Heumac sat heavily on the bed. "I expected nothing less, but still.... So I was chosen to be your sacrifice because of my high rank? Nothing but the best for the son of the serpent priestess!" he said sarcastically. "So, what happens now?"

"We find a way for you to escape."

"Really." Heumac sounded unconvinced. "You have a plan?"

Mahoute hung his head, "Ah, no. But between us, surely we can come up with something in twenty days."

An awkward silence reigned. Finally, Heumac asked, "Why was I brought here naked?"

"Oh that...." Mahoute felt his skin start to burn. "The idea is to humiliate you, to humble you... um... to take you by force."

"So the guards...."

"They were supposed to wait in case I needed their help."

"I see." Heumac looked down at his clasped hands and Mahoute felt slightly uncomfortable. "You've done this before?" the warrior asked.

"What? Had sex with a man? Or humiliated a prisoner?"

"Both... either.... By the nine hells, I don't know! This is not a position I've found myself in before."

Mahoute smiled. "Nor one you wanted to find yourself in?"

Heumac glared at him.

"But to answer your question..." Mahoute turned away, "... I have had lovers of both sexes." He looked back at Heumac. "However, I don't believe any man should be humiliated, unless it is something he enjoys experiencing."

Heumac stared at the priest for a long moment, then decided discretion was the better part of valor. He changed the subject. "Your high priest was right in a way, Mahoute."

The Maya priest blinked. "About what?"

"The jaguar. I don't worship it, but it does protect me and guide me."

Mahoute blurted out. "Is it your only guide? Do you see it? What color is it?"

"I don't have any other guide, yes, and it's black. Why?"

"Does it run with another animal?" The priest was now perched on the bed, almost bouncing with excitement.

"Yes, there's a coyote in my dreams." Heumac watched Mahoute carefully, not sure where this conversation was going.

Mahoute laughed out loud and fell back on the bed. "Yes! The gods play tricks on us, my brother! They bring the coyote and the jaguar together, only to throw obstacles in our path!"

"You are the coyote?"

Mahoute sat up and just looked at Heumac.

The warrior shook his head. "This is all too much for me. Look, can you untie my hands?" He held his bound hands for Mahoute to see. The skin under the leather tie was chafed and red.

"By the gods, why didn't you tell me?" Mahoute scooted off the bed and picked up a jar from his dresser. "This will help." He knelt in front of Heumac, at the foot of the bed, took his hands, ignoring the half hard cock that was now exposed, and began to untie the bindings, then he rubbed the cream gently into Heumac's wrists.

It was quiet in the room. Heumac gazed at the young priest kneeling between his legs; he was so trusting and beautiful. The soft candlelight picked out the browns and golds in his hair, the soft glow of his skin, the light covering of body hair. The care and tenderness that Mahoute was showing as he rubbed the soreness away, even the scent of the man... all were soothing to the warrior guardian. Soothing and yet arousing. His cock began to grow and harden.

Mahoute sat back and slowly looked at Heumac, noting the half lidded eyes, the faint sheen on his chest, the rise and fall of his breath and, of course, the lengthening of his cock. "This is not the time," Mahoute said softly, his gaze returning to the warrior's face, a disappointed note in his voice.

"No," Heumac agreed.

But Mahoute couldn't resist -- he leaned forward and licked the very crown of Heumac's cock, and the warrior gasped. Mahoute sat back. "Tell me what you want," he demanded. He felt split in two; part of him wanted this man, while the other, more rational, part was still cautioning him, warning him that using lust as an incentive to get this man to trust him was not a good idea. But was this merely lust, he wondered.

Heumac reached out and gently threaded his fingers through the priest's hair. He pulled him forward. "You. Your mouth. Here."

And Mahoute surrendered. He took just the head into his mouth and licked the slit, then he put both hands on Heumac's hips and pulled away a little. He began to lick the shaft, making sure his mouth was wet with plenty of saliva.

Heumac knew he was lost the moment he felt the priest's breath on his cock. Mahoute was giving him such pleasure, and from the tang of male desire coming from the floor in front of him, Mahoute was enjoying it, too. "Yes, priest, yes. Take it.... Suck it...." Heumac couldn't think straight, but knew what he wanted so badly.

Mahoute worked his way down to the base of Heumac's cock and then to his balls. He sucked the skin into his mouth and heard the deep groan that came from above his head. The spirits save him, he was near to the edge himself and his hands were nowhere near his own cock!

He began to move back up, tracing the vein with his tongue to just under the crown. Heumac was breathing words of encouragement, "Oh, yes, my little priest! Yes... so good.... More...." And it occurred to Mahoute that the warrior was telling him what to do.

Heumac blinked and looked down in surprise as Mahoute gently disentangled his hands and drew away again. "What...?"

The priest took Heumac's hands from his head. "Ask me," he said with determination, though his voice trembled.

Heumac took a second to process what the priest said. "I... am used to giving orders, not asking."

"I want you to ask. In fact, I want you to beg."

Heumac scoffed, "I would never beg!"

Mahoute returned to his licking. He worked down and then gently blew over the wet cock. Heumac nearly screamed. "You have such heightened senses. Every little breath I blow over your genitals must feel so incredible. And when I swallow you...." Mahoute put his words into action; he swallowed Heumac's cock to the root and then just as quickly pulled away. "Now, ask."

Heumac summoned enough spit to ask, "Is this part of your high priest's idea to humiliate me?"

"No, this is my idea of making you mine." Mahoute gave him an evil, sultry smile and then bent his head again and returned to licking Heumac's straining cock.

Heumac arched into the sensation and groaned, "Priest, you will kill me! Please, damn you. Please, suck me!"

And Mahoute obliged. He took Heumac's cock down his throat and swallowed. Heumac yelled and tried to thrust, but Mahoute held his thighs still. He pulled back just a little and hummed around the cock. Heumac returned his grip to the priest's hair, holding tightly this time, in case Mahoute played that trick on him again.

Heumac felt his balls pull up and then he was coming hard, into Mahoute's sweet mouth.

Mahoute felt on fire and as the taste of the other man filled his mouth, he spun over the edge and felt his clothes grow wet with his own essence.

Heumac sighed and lay back on the bed. Mahoute sat with his head resting on his warrior's inner thigh. Both men were breathing heavily. After a moment, Mahoute climbed up on to his feet and walked slowly over to the bowl and jug that contained fresh water. He lifted his tunic and began to wash the cum from his body with a wetted cloth.

"Let me." Heumac took the cloth away from him and knelt to gently wash the priest. "I haven't even seen you naked," he said quietly. Mahoute responded by lifting the tunic and pulling it over his head. Heumac stood up and took the priest in his arms. "Do you regret it?"

"No. As I said, the timing was off, but I wanted you as much as you did me." He brought his hand up to trace his finger over Heumac's chest. He drew a line just under the warrior's breast. "In twenty days, I would cut you here, a deep cut, one that would cut your body's connection to your heart and kill you in seconds." He swallowed, forcing salvia into his dry mouth. "Then I would hold your still-beating heart up to the sky gods." He closed his eyes and leaned against the solid chest. "I could never do that, Heumac. I can't allow that to happen."

"We'll work something out. Somehow, we'll work it out."

They lay on the bed. Mahoute spooned up behind Heumac, his arm protectively over the other man's waist. Heumac held the priest's hand tightly to his chest.

"What happened to your king?" Mahoute asked.

"When it became obvious that we would lose, he took his own life. I... I couldn't reach him in time."

"I'm sorry."

Heumac squeezed the hand he held. "It was a foolish mission. The king was ill advised."

"You spoke up against it?"

Heumac shrugged. "It's in the past. Nothing can change that."

For a moment, Mahoute was silent, then, "What did you see... when you were startled... in the courtyard. What did you see?" Mahoute repeated.

"A man, up in the window. He held a golden mask that caught the sun."

"The king's chambers are all in that building. Was it a slave?"

"I don't know. He had dark skin."

"Both Kukulkan and his son, Topililtzin, have dyed skin. It's the fashion. Some people have ritual markings or scarring. As you may have noticed, I have paw marks on my skin."

Heumac nodded, "Those are marks I look forward to studying closely," he said with a smirk. He felt the heat of Mahoute's blush on his back.

"Did... did you see the king's face?" the priest asked.

Heumac shook his head. "I... I can't remember. I had other things on my mind... a certain priest, for example."

"Oh, so Nasca excites you, does he?"

Heumac grinned. "Idiot. There was only one man there who excited me. And there I was thinking of your body when I should have been contemplating my own death!"

Mahoute slapped his shoulder, "Don't say that!" He settled his head back and kissed Heumac between the shoulder blades. "What you saw is in here," he tapped Heumac's head gently with one finger. "You have the skills, the memory. You just have to bring it to the fore."

"How?"

"This is why you need a guide. Turn over and close your eyes."

"A guide or a priest?"

"Close your eyes," Mahoute repeated, and he pulled Heumac over onto his back and straddled the warrior's hips.

"You expect me to close my eyes when you lean over me so invitingly?" Heumac reached up and curled one of Mahoute's long hairs over his fingers.

"I expect you to close your eyes because I told you to."

Heumac huffed, but did as he was told.

"Now, focus on that memory. What did you see?"

"A man. Muscular, tall... with many jewels on chains around his chest. He carried a mask in his hand."

"Describe it."

Heumac frowned.

"Come on, Heumac. You can do this."

"Beaten gold... Serpents picked out on it... Can't make out... " Heumac shook his head and opened his eyes, blinking away the image. "Sorry, Priest, the sun's glare blinded me."

"It's fine. You did well."

"He didn't have a flat forehead," Heumac said, puzzled.

"The king was involved in a bad accident when he was young," the priest explained. "His father was killed, and Prince Kukulkan's face was badly scarred. He feels more comfortable hiding it behind a mask."

Heumac was shaking his head. "No, his face wasn't scarred. That's what I'm trying to explain. It was... as if he'd never had his head bound as a child."

Mahoute frowned, "But only slaves or prisoners of war from other tribes don't have their foreheads bound straight after birth. Even then, most tribes I know of still consider it a sign of beauty to have a flat forehead. My mother even bound my head."

"His wasn't flat."

"You're sure?"

Heumac just glared.

"You're sure." Mahoute slowly shook his head. "I don't know what this means."

For a moment both men were silent, then Mahoute realized that something hard was throbbing against his behind and Heumac's hands were not just stroking, but caressing. "You are insatiable!" he said, squirming so that Heumac's cock was rubbing over the crease in his backside.

"I told you that I found you... inviting."

"I think I got that." Mahoute lowered his body down to kiss his warrior for the first time. It was a kiss that spoke of passion and desire. Heumac kissed as though he couldn't get enough of Mahoute -- first, a gentle lick to his lips, then he sucked at Mahoute's bottom lip before claiming the priest's mouth. Mahoute groaned and opened his mouth, giving all that he had. It was a kiss that left the pair of them panting.

"I think I've been converted," Mahoute said as he sat up a little. "From now on, I shall worship the jaguar."

Heumac laughed. "Then I should worship the coyote."

Mahoute grinned and his eyes darkened. "You already did. I took your essence; now, I intend to possess your body."

Heumac laughed louder, then tried to look threatening. "Do your worst, Priest."

"Oh no, my friend. I intend to do my very best...." And Mahoute lowered himself to kiss Heumac again. He moved on to the strong collarbone and then to the Adam's apple, making sucking kisses as he went, leaving red marks on his warrior's body.

"You... have an oral obsession," Heumac groaned out.

Mahoute grinned over the nipple he was sucking and nibbling. He pulled it gently with his teeth and then released it. "And this is a problem...? I want you to feel it all, Guardian. I want to make you feel so good." He worked his way across to the other nipple and then down, bypassing Heumac's cock and moving off to one side. "Roll over again. I want to give your back some attention." Heumac obeyed with a speed that made Mahoute chuckle. He lay full length over the warrior's body.

"Too heavy?" he asked as Heumac gave out a small sigh.

"No."

"Good." The priest kissed the back of the prone man's neck and then moved to nip his ear lobe. "I love the feel of your body against mine," he whispered.

"The feeling's mutual, Priest." Heumac squirmed, grinding his cock against the mattress under him.

Mahoute pulled away a little and took a cushion. "Lift up." He patted Heumac's flank and then slipped the cushion under the warrior's hips. "Better?"

"Hmmm."

Mahoute knelt to one side and ran his hand over Heumac's back, slowly stroking himself as he did. "Do you sense the connection between us, Guardian? Do you feel it humming? Is that why you haven't tried to escape? Or does your body feel so good that you don't want to run?"

Heumac turned his head to look at Mahoute. "Are you asking if I would hurt you, Priest?"

Mahoute shrugged. "You are physically stronger than I -- a trained warrior."

"You like my physique." A statement, not a question, from Heumac.

Mahoute didn't think that warranted an answer, so he remained quiet.

Heumac turned his head back to rest on his crossed arms. "I will not harm you." The truth was, when he had first entered the room, his eyes had scanned it, looking for possibilities. However, once he'd 'read' the priest with his senses and discovered he liked what they found, all thoughts of escape were pushed to the back of his mind. Despite his bold words earlier, if Mahoute had asked, he would have rolled over and begged.

His blood zinged as if he'd scored a goal in the pok-a-tok ball game. In the past, he would have found a way to tunnel that energy into formulating a way out. After all, his life was in another's hands. Yet, somehow, this was different... and painful. It seemed that Mahoute only wanted him for his guardian, his watchman abilities... wanted to see Heumac writhing on the end of a sexual sensory overload. You fool! Heumac thought, Falling for a man you've just met, and your captor at that!

Heumac's words were more than Mahoute expected, but less than he wanted. He traced a finger over Heumac's buttocks, feeling the goose bumps that rose from the warrior's skin. Moving closer, first he stroked the pads of his fingers, then his fingernails, over the area, marveling at the grunts and half sounds that Heumac was making due to his touch. "I can only imagine what my hands must feel like to you," he said quietly, not wanting to break the spell. "Can you pick out the pattern on each finger? No, maybe this is not the right time for questions like that." He smiled at Heumac's murmur of agreement.

Mahoute moved between the warrior's legs and bent over to lick the dark crease. Heumac shuddered. The priest separated the warrior's buttocks with his hands and continued to lick down. He slowly rimmed the hole hidden away there.

Heumac squirmed and moaned, "Yes...."

And Mahoute began to tongue fuck his warrior. He pulled back long enough to reach for the cream that he'd used before on Heumac's wrists, coated one finger and pushed it inside the warrior's body. "Gods, you are tight," he said breathlessly. "I think not many have taken this route with you, Heumac?"

"And you would be right, Priest."

Mahoute felt a rush of pleasure about that, pleasure, pride and excitement. Another finger joined the first and moved up to the knuckle. "You will tell me if I hurt you?" he asked at Heumac's gasp.

"If you dare to stop, then I'll have to do something I said I wouldn't." Mahoute just heard the words squeezed out from the pillow where Heumac had buried his head.

"I doubt if I could stop now, my friend, even if you asked me to." And Mahoute realized he was telling the truth. Quickly, he coated his cock. "On your side. Raise your leg over. That's it.... By all the gods, Heumac, you are very easy on the eye." He ran his hand possessively over the prone man's skin, again noting the goose bumps raised by his touch.

Heumac huffed. "Just get on with it, Priest, please."

"I'm getting there." Mahoute placed his cock against Heumac's tight hole and pushed. He felt the muscle give way and he froze a moment, giving his new lover a chance to get used to the invasion. Heumac pushed back, and Mahoute's cock slid in another inch. He heard a deep groan and realized it came from him. "Oh yes... so good..." He pulled back to thrust in again, Heumac meeting his thrusts with his own. Mahoute looked down at Heumac. Sweat was running along his back and the priest could see where his own perspiration was mingling with the warrior's amongst Mahoute's pubic hair. He reached round and pulled gently at Heumac's nipples and then moved his hand down to the warrior's erection, fisting it, the precum adding needed lubrication.

Finally, unable to take any more, Heumac reached the point of no return and came, shuddering as he ejaculated over Mahoute's hand and the mattress of woven bark and cloth. His muscles squeezed Mahoute's cock tighter and the priest called out as he followed his warrior over the brink.

They lay, panting together. Carefully, Mahoute pulled out, and Heumac turned to take his priest in his arms. He planted a kiss on Mahoute's mouth and the priest looked at him and smiled. "Thank you," he said, stroking Heumac's face before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Heumac lay awake for a long time after the priest fell asleep. He gazed at the man, brushed a curl from his face. Mahoute looked so peaceful, so innocent. It would be easy.... Just a twist of the neck and the young man would be dead. Quick, easy and silent... then out of the high window and onto the square. He could blend into the shadows, find out where his men were being held, formulate a plan to get them out. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't find it in himself to kill this priest, nor to leave him. He sighed. He would just have to get Mahoute to come away with him. Tomorrow, they would have to talk.

Mahoute pulled Heumac closer in his sleep and gave a contented "Heumac...."

And the warrior kissed the priest's forehead and whispered, "Shhhh. Sleep...." as he tucked Mahoute close to him and drifted off himself.

Neither man noticed the shadowy figure that briefly looked through the curtained doorway.

Heumac awoke aware that they were no longer alone. "Mahoute," he shook his bedmate. "We have company."

"What....? Oh, the guards." Mahoute blinked and groaned, "I'm sorry, Heumac. They're here to return you to your cell."

Heumac frowned. "Can't I stay with you? Or at least remain here until you return? We need to talk."

"I wish we could, but I have duties to perform and you cannot stay here unguarded. I will join you for breakfast." He stood and pulled his tunic back on.

Heumac got up. On the low dresser sat the jug with Mahoute's now tepid drinking water. The warrior wiped out the bowl and poured some fresh water into it. He splashed his face while the priest talked with the guards.

Mahoute came over and stroked Heumac's shoulder. "Heumac," he began, "kneel before me."

Heumac looked surprised and slightly bewildered.

"Please, Heumac, just do this."

The warrior carefully bent his legs and looked up at the priest. Mahoute reached for the binding and tied Heumac's hands together again. He looked over at the two guards. "He is not to be given any food until I come for him, and make sure his hands are untied once he's in his cell. I don't want his blood to be spilled because he struggled to free himself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord," the guard answered.

"It will give me another reason to join you," Mahoute softly whispered to the kneeling man.

Heumac got up slowly. He pretended to stumble against Mahoute in order to whisper into the priest's ear, "I look forward to seeing you. Be well. Be safe."

Mahoute stood on one of the steps towards the top of the temple just before dawn. Above him stood the next rank of priests, then Nasca and, finally, above the high priest, stood the king in all his glory, covered in gold and brightly woven fabric. The feathers on his cloak moved in the light breeze.

Mahoute knew the litany by rote. He raised his hands and began speaking. "And the glory that was Tonatinh shone out around the world, lighting the dark and driving away the demons...."

In his mind, he saw Heumac's hands, felt not the sun's rising heat, but his jaguar's. How were they going to escape? Then again, suppose Heumac was using him to escape? Well, Mahoute had used Heumac.... The priest chuckled to himself and drew up short as one of the other priests put his hand on Mahoute's shoulder and the young man realized he'd stopped his litany in mid flow. He coughed as if to clear his throat and then returned to his speech. He would be in trouble for that.

Kukulkan noticed the break in the priest's words and wondered. Tupac had told him of the young man. The king needed someone trustworthy to teach his son, and the old blind priest had suggested Mahoute. Tupac had more or less raised Kukulkan. He was one of the few who knew the king's secret.

Kukulkan knew very little about his father. The gods had brought the man from the sea to this country. Once he made a slave girl pregnant, the foreigner had been beaten and executed. The pregnant woman had been taken to the moon temple where she gave birth to a boy, as dark skinned as his father. The young priest, Tupac, and Mahoute's grandmother, then Moon Serpent priestess, had looked after both mother and son. Tupac had had a vision of an eagle and a condor flying together, which led to the two boys -- one, a prince; the other, the son of a slave -- growing up as playmates. They had many things in common. Both were the same age, born the same day, and both enjoyed getting up to mischief. Neither worried about the color of the other's skin, and the king was pleased that his son was content. There would be time enough for the boy to be taught the discipline of statesmanship.

But the royal family experienced a terrible accident, an accident that killed the king and led to the prince's death. On the road to a neighboring kingdom, a landslide took out the entire royal party. Only the slave boy, the high priest, Tupac, and the young apprentice priest, Nasca, escaped. Nasca had been scouting ahead and hadn't heard the landslide... or so he maintained. Tupac thought it suspicious that Nasca hadn't heard the earth moving and rocks falling, especially since the path the young man had taken rose up into the mountain from where the landslide seemed to originate. It would have been easy for the bright, ambitious, resourceful man to engineer a landslide. And with the royal party dead, who would know the truth? The way would have been cleared for his future rise in the hierarchy.

Between them, a bloodied and torn Tupac and Nasca dug out the bodies, the prince and the slave boy among them. The wooden framework of the king's litter had protected both children, but the prince had been caught by a stray rock and his head was badly cut. Tupac carefully took the two boys, one already dying, to a nearby steam, then sent the acolyte back to the palace.

Tupac used the time alone to concoct a plan. He was determined that Nasca would not profit from his foul deed.

By the time help arrived, the prince was dead. But both boys were swathed in the soiled cotton that had been used to cover the king's throne -- one, to preserve his dignity in death; the other, to conceal his whole body. Tupac had seized the opportunity to have the slave boy take the prince's place. The remains of the royal family were taken back to the city, the prince buried beside his king, but in the place of the slave.

Tupac and Mahoute's grandmother cared for the surviving child between them. Tupac told everyone that the boy's injuries were so bad, his face so scarred, that he would have to wear a mask for the rest of his life. So the slave boy became the king.

Tupac never fully trusted Nasca after that, and saw no reason to now. As it was, Tupac's blindness finally helped Nasca's ambitions and he became high priest.

So no one knew the king's secret except the ex-high priest. Even Kukulkan's own son, conceived on a concubine on the darkest night of the year, had never seen his father's face. Stories were told of how both the king and the prince had their skin dyed, and now no one questioned it.

Now, Nasca wanted to educate the young prince and Kukulkan could not allow that. The high priest would shape the boy in his own image and his father would lose him. And if Nasca found out the truth.... Better if the king chose a tutor himself, someone bright and young, someone like Mahoute.

"NO!" Nasca shouted his defiance to the king. "Mahoute should be punished. This will seem like a privilege! I will not have it!"

"Have we not all found ourselves with a dry throat at some time, Lord Nasca?" Tupac stood in the doorway of the king's chambers. Though no longer able to stand with the other priests, Tupac was still a powerful influence on the king. If Nasca ever wanted control of the empire, Tupac would be one of the first to be removed. The three men in the room all knew this.

The high priest turned angrily to the old man, "Not in the presence of the gods! Mahoute should have been more prepared. It speaks of his unreliability if he cannot carry out a simple prayer."

"He is young and enthusiastic," insisted Kukulkan. "He will make a good tutor for Topililtzin."

"He's just a proselyte. The young prince needs someone with more experience, more reliable. Besides, Mahoute is preparing for his first sacrifice."

"Nevertheless, he must have some hours free during the day to teach my son."

Nasca looked as if he was going to push the matter, but then he bowed, "Yes, my Lord," and left the room.

"Did he yield too easily, Tupac?" the king asked when he was sure the high priest was out of hearing range.

"We'll find out in time, my Lord," the old man said as he moved further into the room.

"Are you sure about Mahoute? Are you sure that he...."

"He hates the idea of human sacrifice as much as you do, Lord. He thinks I do not know how he shudders when I mention it. In fact, I believe the high priest has played into our hands by giving Mahoute the Toltec guardian as his first blood sacrifice."

"How so?"

"Mahoute had a vision of himself with a jaguar. The Toltec guardian was found with a jaguar pelt around him"

"Then he will not kill this man?"

"I think he will find that very difficult to do. I understand Mahoute had the guardian brought to his chamber last evening, naked, and that he kept him there all night."

"Indeed! That is interesting...."

Mahoute expected to be summoned for punishment, but to his surprise, he was led to the king's chambers. He was even more surprised to find that Tupac was waiting for him with Kukulkan and that he, Mahoute, was to be tutor to the heir.

Tupac left the king's chambers and made his way silently along the quiet passageways. The temple complex was a maze of corridors and steps. Hidden behind large, woven wall hangings lay other doors and passageways, known only to the high priests. Their whereabouts were only passed on by word of mouth; however, this was one secret Tupac had not shared with his successor. The blind priest now slipped through one of these secret doorways. He knew the way by touch. Each wall had a different carving on it, and he emerged further on, and then hid himself behind a freestanding statue in a dark corner.

Nasca was pacing his chambers. He was talking to one of his loyal priests, a man named Huayna. "Our king is weak," Nasca spat, "He would rather sacrifice butterflies and humming birds! And you say Mahoute kept this prisoner with him until morning?" The priest nodded. "Very well. This is what must be done to save our people. During the sacrifice, Mahoute must kill his prisoner. As soon as he raises his knife to take the life of his whore, I will lose myself in some vision trance and announce that Tonatinh demands the heart of the king. You will then grab Kukulkan and drag him forward, do you understand?" He looked at his companion for acknowledgment.

Huayna nodded again.

"You have done well, and will be richly rewarded for this," Nasca said with a grim smile and continued his pacing. "It will even suit me if Mahoute does not attempt to kill his prisoner. I can then say that the gods have stilled his hand and demanded a higher sacrifice from him. Either way, the king will be dead."

"Yes, my lord." Huayna hesitated. "But what if Mahoute won't kill the king?"

"Idiot!" Nasca lashed out, striking the man across the face with the back of his hand, causing the man to reel. The high priest drew himself up. "I will kill Kukulkan myself, and Mahoute will die along with his blessed Toltecs. The young prince will need someone to comfort him, to guide him in his kingly duties, and that someone will be me! I've waited so long for this. I just need the perfect opportunity...."

In the shadows, Tupac shivered and silently made his way back into the dark corridors.

An hour later, Mahoute managed to slip away to take food to Heumac. He was allowed into the cell by the two guards. Heumac lay on his side, facing away from the doorway, a blanket covering him.

"Heumac? Sorry I took so long. I...." The priest noticed how still his prisoner was. He shook Heumac's shoulder and the man moved slowly, painfully, over to reveal his battered face and body.

"By all that's sacred! Who did this?" Mahoute pulled the blanket aside to reveal more angry abrasions on the warrior's body.

"Mahoute...." Heumac tried to talk through lips swelling even as the priest looked.

"It's all right. Don't try to talk." Mahoute turned angrily to the guards. "Who did this? On whose orders was this... obscenity committed? This prisoner is to be a sacrifice to Tonatinh. He mustn't be cut before!"

One of the guards knelt. "My lord, he tried to escape. Lord Nasca came to see him, and when he refused to kneel, the high priest entered the cell meaning to subdue the prisoner, but he attacked Lord Nasca and tried to escape. We were ordered to hold him while the lord disciplined him."

Mahoute bit the side of his mouth. Disciplined? More like beaten to a pulp! But he had to give Nasca his due -- no blood stained the floor. Heumac might have internal injuries, but no outward cuts marred his body, just a number of sore and vicious looking welts.

In order not to zone-out on the pain, Heumac focused his senses on Mahoute. The priest was angry and nervous; Heumac could almost smell the anxiety that came off him in waves. The priest's heart was pounding and his hands shook with the effort not to lose his temper.

"Bring me hot water and some cloths, and send for my mother." He turned to Heumac. "She has some skill as a healer. Nasca will not argue with her over treating you."

Heumac reached for Mahoute's wrist. "Nasca... Nasca means to harm you," he said as carefully as he could. "You must be on your guard." He slumped back against the bed.

Mahoute swallowed. "Is that why you attacked him?"

Heumac shook his head. "Didn't attack him. Wanted to get to you... protect you."

Mahoute sighed and slowly began to examine the warrior's body. He used the water to wash any soiled parts of the man, tsking when he found new areas of swelling. "You are going to be a picture, my friend; all the colors of the rainbow will be on your skin." But the priest's voice trembled with rage and sadness. He got to Heumac's feet and swore. "That bastard!" Nasca had beaten Heumac's feet with a cane.

"To stop me running away," Heumac said quietly.

"He had no right to do this. You are my responsibility. Nasca laid that charge on me himself. He should have punished me, not you."

"For what?"

"I was distracted during the dedication this morning. I forgot the words."

"May I ask what distracted you?"

"You did." Mahoute smiled for the first time since coming into the cell. "I was thinking about last night."

"Oh." Heumac felt pleased, but somewhat uncomfortable. He wanted to mean more to this Maya priest than just a prisoner with special abilities.

"Yes, 'oh'. And now you bear my punishment."

"No, I think there was another reason. He means you harm, Priest."

Their discussion was cut short when Chimalma entered the cell. She got down to business straight away with creams and lotions and, in a short time, Heumac felt much more comfortable.

"He should be taken to somewhere safe, away from Nasca's influence," the priestess declared. "I will have him taken to the Temple of the Moon. The high priest has to ask my permission to enter there."

Heumac tried to stand, but had to lean on Mahoute as he spoke to Chimalma. "What about your son? Nasca is out to hurt him. I need to be with him to guard him."

"You, my friend, need to heal!" insisted Mahoute. "Nasca won't move against me openly as long as I have Kukulkan's protection."

Chimalma tried to reason with Heumac, "And Mahoute will visit you as often as he can."

"Just anyone try to keep me away."

Mahoute spoke with such determination that Heumac smiled. Then frowned. "My men..." he began.

Chimalma turned to her son. "The area just inside the temple is very uneven. I could use some strong, healthy men to take up the stones and re-lay them."

Mahoute smiled at her, "That should be no problem. I believe we have some new prisoners who need to fill their days with a useful occupation."

Relatively safe within the confines of the Moon temple complex, Heumac's injures were attended to. Mahoute saw him every day at meal times, when he wasn't tutoring the young prince or attending to his other duties. Both he and Nasca avoided each other. It seemed as though the high priest was either biding his time or just keeping his head down. Mahoute relaxed a little.

It took nearly a week before Mahoute could again hold Heumac without the warrior trying to hide a flinch from the pain of the bruises; nearly a week before either man felt like doing more than talking or just spending time with each other. Mahoute tended Heumac with care, helping him with his ablutions, trying to keep the man occupied and trying not to treat Heumac as though he was an invalid. A long, frustrating week, at the end of which, tempers began to fray.

"By the gods, Priest! I can manage on my own! Stop...."

"Stop what? Stop worrying over you? Stop caring for you? Stop loving...." The words were out of his mouth before he could prevent them. Mahoute practically ran from the room. This wasn't what he'd wanted. He wanted Heumac beside him, wanted the man in his bed, or in any bed, but falling for the Toltec warrior...?

You fool! he thought, what do you think you've been feeling? Does this feel like just lust?

There was an almighty crash behind him and, without thinking, he spun around and ran back.

Heumac lay on the floor, actually hitting it with his fist. "Damn! Damn!" he repeated with each thump. He startled when he registered that Mahoute stood looking down at him, a quizzical look on his face.

"Just what are you doing?"

"I... em... tried to get up and come after you."

"Mind telling me why?"

"I wanted to ask you what you meant."

Mahoute bit his lip as he helped Heumac onto the bed and began to check the dressings on his feet. "It's not important. I just lost it for a moment."

Heumac swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "I'm taking a chance here.... Do you remember asking me whether I felt the connection between us? And I chose to change the subject?"

"Well, we did have better things to do at the time," Mahoute tried to smile.

"Yes. Well...." Heumac smiled, a little embarrassed. "I wanted to tell you then, but I was worried that all you were interesting in was this... connection, the spiritual tie between guide and guardian."

"So, what did you want to tell me?" The priest readied himself for a rejection speech.
"You're not making a lot of sense here, my friend."

"That I've fallen in love with you." Heumac rushed on before he lost his nerve. "The sex was great, wonderful, incredible, and I can't wait till I recover enough for us to do more than just talk again." He tried to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but his face was still sore and he grimaced instead. He looked down at his clasped hands. "But I didn't think you felt the same way, so I need to know.... What you meant when you used the word 'love'?"

Mahoute studied Heumac's face and took a deep breath. "I love you, Heumac. I didn't mean you to know. I thought... I thought I could save you, get to know you, and you would learn to trust and rely on me. Selfish, huh? I meant to save you, not fall in love with you."

Heumac closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Thank the spirits!" he said.

Mahoute gave him a speculative look. "We should consummate our union. Lie back on the bed and let your guide do a little physical therapy. I'll do all the work."

"What exactly have you got in mind, Priest?" Heumac tried to frown threateningly, but it didn't quite work.

Mahoute just grinned. "I've claimed you as my own guardian, my jaguar, now I want you to do the same. I want... I need to feel you inside me, Heumac." The grin on Mahoute's face became a sultry smile, the smile of a man who knew he was going to get what he wanted, and Heumac knew his own face echoed the expression.

The priest untied his loincloth and let it fall. He took the ointment from his bag and stood with one leg up on the bed, one on the floor. He coated his finger and began to move it back towards his own opening.

Heumac swallowed. "Let me?" His voice was husky and dry.

Mahoute placed the jar in his warrior's hand and positioned himself on all fours on the bed. Heumac knelt behind him. He reverently stroked Mahoute's backside. "Beautiful," he whispered, overawed at the trust this man was giving him.

Mahoute laughed. "You do realize that you've just been talking to my ass?"

"Yes, Priest, and it's a beautiful ass." Heumac ran his hand over the twin orbs, then bent his head and planted a wet kiss on one, then the other. "It's perfect, just like the rest of you."

Mahoute scoffed. "You are very odd, my friend, but I love you." The words came out breathlessly as Heumac, remembering how good it felt when Mahoute did this to him, started licking the cleft between the two cheeks. He began to pierce the orifice, that his two hands now exposed, with his tongue.

Mahoute was writhing on the bed, barely able to get his knees to hold him up. "P l e a s e... Heumac!"

The warrior smiled and slicked up his fingers with the cream. He swapped his tongue for a finger and rubbed it against the moist hole. Mahoute pushed back, demanding more, and Heumac probed the entrance, adding another finger and stretching the hole. He pushed in at a different angle and Mahoute's body arched.

"AGAIN!" he cried out.

Heumac obliged, then he coated his cock with the cream. "Ready?"

"Wait! Wait, I want to ride you."

"Not this time, my priest!" Heumac grinned as he rolled them both over so that Mahoute was now pinned beneath him. The priest looked wanton and hot and so very ready. Heumac watched as he licked his lips.

"All right," Mahoute conceded, "this time!"

Heumac sat back as Mahoute raised his knees and locked his hands behind them, exposing himself to Heumac's heated gaze.

"What are you waiting for, tough man? It's all yours -- take it!"

"Gods, you're pushy!"

Mahoute's response was lost as Heumac pushed past the guardian muscle, causing some initial pain.

He stilled, frozen by the thought that he was causing his lover pain, until Mahoute groaned out, "Move, damn you! MOVE!" The priest's legs wrapped round the guardian's body, pulling him in deeper. Heumac swore, struggling not to come too quickly.

Mahoute moaned as he felt Heumac's cock grow even larger within his body. Heumac pulled back to change his angle of entry and then pushed in, striking the small nub hidden inside Mahoute's body and causing the priest to arch off the bed with a curse.

Heumac felt alive. This was what he had been born for, this was what he was made for -- to love this man, to be a part of his soul. He looked down to where Mahoute's neck was stretched back, his Adam's apple so prominent, and Heumac leant forward to nip hard with strong white teeth. His hand grasped Mahoute's cock, fully intending to take his lover over the edge with him.

Mahoute's world exploded, and Heumac joined him in a cascade of light.

Mahoute awoke alone." Heumac?" he called. His eyes cleared from sleep and he saw his lover standing in front of the open window, still as a statue. Mahoute hurried over and placed his hand on the man's arm. "Heumac," he called softly, not wanting to jar his warrior, "Come on, my friend, listen to my voice; feel my touch; come back to me."

Heumac blinked and turned. "There's a storm coming, Priest, a bad one," he said.

"You can tell that?"

"Yes. You should get the animals up to high ground, get all the perishables under cover, warn the people. I can smell it in the air, feel the tension."

"I'll tell the king, get things organized.... Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am now." He smiled at Mahoute and stroked a stray curl back behind the priest's ear.

The animals were nervous, skittish; they needed to get away... somewhere, anywhere. Heumac could sympathize with them. He felt the draw of the jungle, the desire to run and run, and for Mahoute to be beside him.

The thunder arrived suddenly. It rolled around as though it was an animal trapped in the valley basin. Back and forth it rumbled -- now overhead, now moving away -- only to return again a few minutes later. The lightning bolts were almost horizontal, splitting the sky and causing the city dwellers to hide in fear. The heat was oppressive, heavy and sticky. Nowhere felt comfortable; no one wanted to do anything. Then the rain began.

When the storm hit, most of the people were prepared, but the rainstorm was worse than even Heumac could have predicted. Very few ventured out. The streets turned to mud and lightning danced around the tops of the temples, lighting them up like enormous candles. Torches were lit all the time. Children cried and parents fretted.

Mahoute stood on the temple steps, wrapped in his blanket, watching the dancers as they tried to keep rhythm in the terrible rain, trying to bring back the sun. Nasca had ordered them out with their drums and rattles, flutes and trumpets, but even their sound was drowned out by the thunder. The storm made the colors of the feathers dull, their costumes dreary.

Wet is my world, Mahoute thought. He wondered if Heumac could see him in this driving rain, if he was even looking.

Heumac was. He could see his lover on the steps of the building across the square and had to fight the urge to race over and drag Mahoute indoors, out of the terrible weather. He could see the way the rain flattened the hair that he loved to touch, the way Mahoute shivered in the vicious wind.

He watched as the priest slowly made his way down the steps. His feet would be slipping due to the deerskin moccasins. Once wet, they had little grip on the smooth stone. Heumac longed to get his priest somewhere warm and dry and safe....

As Mahoute neared the bottom, his foot did indeed slip. Heumac was across the room and nearly out of the building when he heard the jaguar roar. The animal stood in the room; its ears were back on its head and it snarled, then roared again. Heumac returned to the window. Nasca held the young priest up, his hand wrapped round him as Mahoute tried to regain his footing. It looked just a little too possessive for Heumac's peace of mind.

Mahoute steadied himself, unwilling to lean against the high priest for any longer than necessary. "Thank you, my lord," he said.

"Where are you going in this storm, son?"

"To see my mother. This weather worries her. It brings on a feeling of foreboding."

"Indeed? Well, we would all do well to take heed of Chimalma's warnings. But you should remember, you are a priest of the sun, not of the moon. You have duties here."

"Yes, my lord. I have an hour before the next ritual and my mother has requested that I attend her."

"Of course." Nasca looked up into the storm-tossed heavens. "The gods, however, call on us for sustenance. I believe we must move your sacrifice forward. In three days, you must commit the Toltec slave to the gods."

"But it's not time. We have days yet. He isn't prepared." Mahoute felt his blood run cold at the priest's words. He and Heumac had spent so much time making love and then preparing for the coming storm, that they hadn't talked about escaping.

"You would argue with the gods, boy?"

"No. No of course not."

The high priest again looked skyward. "And if that doesn't bring back the sun, then the gods will need a more prominent sacrifice... perhaps myself, or the king."

His eyes seemed to bore into Mahoute's soul and the young man's face revealed the horror he felt. He wrapped his sodden cloak around him and quickly excused himself. Grimly, he sloshed through the mud towards the Temple of the Moon.

The jaguar had gone. Heumac lay back on his bed. Three days, just three more days! He sat up as he heard footsteps and gained his feet as the king and the old blind priest entered his room.

"We need to talk, Guardian," the king said.

Heumac was brought up the temple steps, his hands again tied, a simple loincloth wound around his waist and between his legs, tucked in at the waist. Mahoute had painted Heumac's skin himself. No one else was to touch this man from now on, save to hold him still.

The young priest stood in full ceremonial costume; his hair tied and threaded through a jade hairpiece. Once fine feathers, now bedraggled in the rain, sprouted from a gold and jade headdress. Other pieces of jade and obsidian decorated his ears, neck, wrists and ankles. Around his hips sat his finely woven loincloth and belt, and, painted on his skin by Heumac, were the signs of the jaguar and the coyote. He looked calm and serene -- only the guardian could tell how fast Mahoute's heart was beating and that his sweat was mixing with the rain.

Heumac wanted to tell his lover that it would be all right, that this would soon be over. Just relax, priest. Just do your duty. But to be honest, he didn't feel particularly calm himself -- his blood was running swiftly through his body, getting him ready for action.

Heumac was placed across the altar. Nasca stood by his head, holding the Toltec's hands above his head. Huayna took hold of Heumac's legs. Kukulkan stood behind the priests. Mahoute raised the knife in both hands, high above his head. The drums beat loudly. The sound of thunder echoed around. Mahoute looked skywards and the lightning flash caught the edge of the knife. Below, the few who braved the storm squinted to see what was happening.

The drums stilled....

Nasca released Heumac's hands and lifted his hands to his own head, as though suffering the blinding headache that signaled the start of a trance....

There was a piercing scream... and Tupac came charging out of the inside of the temple, waving his cane, running full pelt at Nasca. The high priest lost his balance and, before anyone could react, both men were falling, tumbling down the steps, rolling over and over again.

Mahoute brought his elbow down and back hard. The guard behind, taken by surprise, doubled over in pain. Heumac brought his feet up and immobilized the priest holding his legs. Mahoute swiftly sliced through the ropes binding Heumac, and his warrior pulled him out of the way, to punch another guard who tried to stop them.

Ducking around and hitting anyone who got in the way, the king, priest and guardian barreled into the temple and down a flight of stairs. Mahoute led the way through a door and into a lit passageway. Heumac barred the door with a heavy post and followed the priest and king down more stairs.

He suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Mahoute asked, aware that his lover had stilled, and how little time they had.

"Do you hear that?" Heumac had his head on one side in his classic listening pose.

Mahoute shook his head. "Not all of us have the ears of a bat! What is it?" he repeated.

Heumac concentrated. "A rushing, roaring.... The river's burst its banks! We have to get out of here. The whole valley could flood!"

They raced down gradually darkening corridors, which twisted and turned and seemed to go into the center of the earth, through more doors and narrow stairwells until, finally, they could feel the fresh, wet air and see the edges of the tunnel. The ground was getting more and more muddy. Soon they were dragging their feet through a steady stream of water. There was a narrow opening ahead, usually hidden by a sculpture and plant pots, but they had been overturned and the entrance was clear, the guards having better things to do than search for the priest and the warrior.

The three men found Nasca's and Tupac's bodies lying in front of the temple. There was a growing crowd of people on the steps, trying to gain entrance to the only dry, safe buildings. They ignored both the bodies and the men who knelt reverently beside them. Nasca was dead, a small dagger embedded in his ribs; Tupac, barely alive.

Mahoute pulled his friend's body towards him, wiping the mud away from his face. "Oh, Tupac, why? I thought... when you said you'd create a diversion...." He didn't notice the tears that blended with the rain.

Heumac placed his hand on his lover's shoulder. "Let's get him to somewhere dry," he suggested.

Tupac shook his head carefully. "No, Heumac, no time.... Take my bag." He drew a shuddering breath. "You may find the contents useful." He pressed the straps of a heavy pack into Heumac's hands. The old man turned to Mahoute and squeezed the hand holding his. "Mahoute, you should have this. "He guided the young priest's hand to the pouch strapped to his waist.

"No, Tupac...."

"Be well, Mahoute," the old priest sighed.

Kukulkan knelt and took his friend's hand. "Safe journey, Old Man," he said quietly, as he watched his friend die.

Heumac gently drew Mahoute away, only pausing to close Tupac's eyes. "We must get the people to safety. Grieving will come later." Together, the three men started across to the other temple where the king had already sent his son.

The streets were chaotic, with people gathering their belongings and making for higher ground. Some of the more flimsy buildings had already been washed away, and others were groaning.

Once inside the Temple of the Moon, the three men were faced with panic and confusion. People injured in the crush to get within the temple lay on the floor, ministered to by Chimalma and her priests. Around them stood others, all seeking guidance and reassurance.

Kukulkan pushed his way through to try and calm his people. Once through, he stood on a dais and clapped his hands to get their attention. "We must leave the city, make for the jungle. There is nothing left here for us. We must take only that which we can carry and make for high ground." But the mask was gone and the people wouldn't listen to this stranger.

"What good is it to be in the jungle in a storm?" one man demanded.

"Don't you remember the tales of the last great storm? How it was followed by drought and famine, plague and disease? It took our people years to recover. We were easy targets for the invaders. If we move our people to higher ground through the jungle, we have more chance of surviving." The king turned to Heumac. "And we have a Guardian, if he will consent to lead us."

Heumac nodded.

"But he is a Toltec, our enemy!"

Heumac looked at Mahoute, then he slowly knelt before him. "I pledge my life to my guide's people," he said clearly.

Mahoute gulped. Gods, what this man did to him! More than a little flustered, he whispered, "Very dramatic, Heumac. Hope it works."

Chimalma stood up from tending the sick and the miserable. "Kukulkan is right! We must go into the jungle. It will support our people. It has before. Staying here is no longer an option."

Mahoute stepped forward to join his mother, Heumac standing beside him. "Gather what you need and then join us in front of the temple," he instructed.

"We have to leave now," Heumac added, "before the river washes the streets away."

A small crowd gathered on the steps, burdened with food and bags, ready to follow their leaders out into the jungle. The water level was still rising and soon they were more swimming than walking. The jungle was dark and threatening. The wind beat the branches against the faces of the Mayas and the Toltecs, freemen and slaves alike, making it difficult for anyone to see the way. Heumac and Mahoute pushed them forward, helping any who fell behind.

Finally, they had to stop. Kukulkan drew the priest and guardian to one side. "The people are too exhausted to go on. We need to rest."

The guardian nodded. "I'll go on and scout for a better site."

"You sure, Heumac? You look as worn out as the rest of us."

"Yes, I'm sure." Heumac smiled. "I feel I belong out here."

"Then I'm coming with you." Mahoute started to gather up some things.

"No, Mahoute. I want you to stay here and rest."

"I'm coming with you! My place is at your side."

Both men appealed to Kukulkan for help. He shook his head and turned to Chimalma. "Why do I feel as if I suddenly have three sons?" he said to her, and then turned to face the two men again. "Heumac, if you go alone, you know that Mahoute will follow on his own. Wouldn't it be safer if he went with you?"

Heumac surrendered, but he caught the smug grin on the priest's face. "All right. But you keep up with me, got it?"

"Yes, Heumac."

The guardian was defeated and he knew it, but what really surprised him was that it really didn't bother him.

The two men finally reached totally dry ground far enough from the flood plain. Mahoute fell to his knees in the small clearing. It was dark, but he trusted his guardian to see that they were safe. "We're too exhausted to make our way back now. It would be best if we rest here and return in the morning."

Heumac nodded. "I don't think I can trust my senses right now anyway. I'm too tired."

"Jungle finally wore you out, then?"

"Guess so." Heumac grinned.

Carefully, Mahoute cleared a small area and then began to build a fire with the flint from Tupac's bag. It took longer than he would have liked to generate a spark and he breathed a sigh of relief when it finally caught.

Heumac had gathered bracken and moss, to make them a more comfortable bed. Now, he stripped and, despite his tiredness, Mahoute took time to gaze at his lover's athletic form in the firelight.

Heumac smiled, "Come on, Priest, get out of those wet robes."

Mahoute shook his head. "Sorry, my friend. Not tonight. I'm surprised you've got the energy to even think about it."

The warrior snorted. "You overestimate my stamina. I just don't like the idea of you sleeping in wet clothes. Now, strip." He pulled out a blanket from the bag Tupac gave him. "This will at least keep us warm."

Mahoute grinned. "Next time you command me to strip, I hope you have something else in mind to keep me warm!"

They curled up together; Heumac with his arms tightly around Mahoute's body. As he drifted off, he thought he heard the sounds of a soft bark and a purr. Good, he thought, let them stand guard tonight!

The rain gradually slowed and became a light drizzle. The jungle seemed to draw breath, and life began to emerge from holes, cavities and burrows. As the jungle began to warm, steam rose from the floor and a faint, earthy smell of loam and musk filled the air.

When they awoke, the sun was high. Mahoute felt more comfortable than he had for a long time. He was lying spooned up against Heumac's chest and his lover's arm was draped over his body, his fingers playing with the hairs on Mahout's chest. "Mmmm, I really don't want to move." He felt Heumac kiss the back of his neck.

"Nor I, Priest, but...."

"We have to return for our survivors." His stomach rumbled, causing both men to laugh.

"And food, and water," Heumac added.

"Right. You look for the water and I'll find us something to eat. With your nose, finding fresh water should be no problem."

"Are you insulting my nose, Priest?"

Mahoute turned round in his lover's arms and made a show of studying Heumac's nose. "No, it's a fine nose, handsome even." And he placed a light kiss on the end.

Heumac pulled back a little. "I would have you know that noses run in my family!"

Mahoute laughed out loud. "I can't believe you said that! You will pay, my friend!"

"With my heart?"

Mahoute turned serious. "I thought I already had that." He caressed Heumac's face, gazing into his eyes.

"You do, totally." Heumac took the hand and kissed the palm. "My priest," he whispered, pulling Mahoute in for another kiss. But the sound of stomachs complaining broke through the moment and Mahoute sighed as Heumac let him go.

"Come on. Food and then we start back."

There were approximately twenty small fires dotted around the clearing; each one had a group of people around it. With one group sat Mahoute and Heumac.

It wouldn't be easy for these city dwellers to live in the jungle, Mahoute thought, but humans were adaptable. He noted the way the Toltecs and Mayas were mixing. It would be a struggle at times; fear and mistrust would no doubt rear their ugly heads, but with strong leadership....

Mahoute looked to where Chimalma was tending a cut on Topililtzin's knee, under the watchful eye of Kukulkan. If the priestess accepted Kukulkan, then the others would. And by the way his mother was looking at the king, she would do more than accept him. Which meant that their people would have both a king and a guardian who were ex-slaves. He smiled and turned to gaze at the man sitting beside him.

Heumac was also studying the small groups. After a moment, he became aware of Mahoute's scrutiny and turned to bestow a quizzical eyebrow on the priest.

Mahoute's smile widened. Perhaps some day they would build a new city, not as grand as the last, but higher up; somewhere where they could feel safe from invaders and floods. Whatever happened, he knew he would stay by his lover's side. They would guide their people, stand sentinel over them. It was how it was meant to be -- the coyote and the jaguar together.