Quetzal's Labyrinth

1

It is said that, in the end, the fate of humanity hung on one kid and one word: taxes. Well, technically four words: Tax Assessors Annual Conference. It seems unlikely, I know, but saving humanity seldom unfolds the way people expect it to.

In this case, the Tax Assessors Annual Conference was the event ­Diego’s parents were going to, and most definitely not where ­Diego planned to spend his first week of summer break.

And so he was sent to Abuelo’s for the week.

It was a fine arrangement as far as ­Diego was concerned. He adored Abuelo, and not just because his grandfather spoiled him. Abuelo had a sharp mind, full of fascinating facts—­and he always made ­Diego feel just as insightful and worthy of being heard.

Sure, there wasn’t a whole lot to do in his grandfather’s apartment. (­Diego had already read most of Abuelo’s books about Aztec mythology, of which there were many!) But that didn’t matter. They always found something, whether it was making up a new board game with spare pieces from other games or eating dessert for breakfast or even, once, watching movies all day long in their pajamas and ordering pizza delivery for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And they always went on at least one cool outing per visit.

In any case, it was a million times better than being at a tax conference. Please.

Though, in fairness, these were ­Diego’s thoughts before he found himself running for his life down a dimly lit hallway, being chased by a wolf-­bear-­wild-­boar creature with five hands.

Yes, five hands! One at the end of each limb and an extra hand at the end of a thick tail! Gross. So gross. And so unbelievably creepy.

And now here he was, standing in the middle of who knows where with a dog who could talk and a girl who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Do you think it followed us?” ­Diego asked, referring to the horrid five-­handed beast they’d just been fleeing.

“Let’s not sit around and find out,” the dog replied.

Sound advice. They took off running, and none of them looked back.

But since you’re still here, you should know: The beast did in fact follow them, and it was very much hot on their trail.

2

One day earlier

CRACK!

Just like that, the million-­year-­old labyrinth began to crumble.

“YES!!”

Had the speaker given it any thought, he would have chosen a more ominous phrase to mark this epic moment. Perhaps a sinister “bwah-­ha-­ha,” followed by the grotesque curve of a smile revealing far too many jaguar-­sharp teeth.

But the event actually took the speaker by surprise. After millennia of trying to release himself from captivity, he wasn’t quite prepared for the moment when one of the links in his many chains came apart.

Thus his triumphant “YES!!” was as much a question as a statement, for he hadn’t really considered that this would be the day his plans finally took effect.

Once uttered, the word bounced around in the heart of the labyrinth before finding an exit and attempting an escape.

It was a futile exercise. After all, this labyrinth was made by a god to trap a god.

A simple word such as yes (even if uttered quite loudly) never stood a chance. And so it fluttered into a dead end, hovered in confusion, and then fell to the ground in a pile of ash.

No matter.

In the heart of the labyrinth, Tezca rolled his wrist, which was encircled by a solid metal band attached to a heavy chain. The chain, now released from its enchanted bindings, rasped and clanged, giving off blinding sparks as Tezca dragged it across the stone floor.

With one hand free, Tezca knew the remaining chains would be much easier to destroy.

It was time to get to work.

He raised his arm, feeling the rush of his long-­dormant power coursing through his veins, gathering in his fingertips.

He spread his fingers wide, and with a sonic boom, Tezca re­leased the darkness.

The effort drained him of all the power he had available, and he collapsed onto the floor, exhausted.

But the power he had released was formidable as it exploded into thousands of points, each as dense as a black hole.

The darkness rained down upon the land outside the labyrinth, dark embers burning hot. They fell with a thunderous force and rose as figures clad in shadows.

Alert the Storm Tyrant. Tezca’s instructions were imprinted on them. And find the Tlapani!

The shadow minions leaped into action.

Finding the Storm Tyrant would be easy. Only a few creatures were needed for that task. The rest raced for the door—­the passageway between Nahualan and the world of mortals.

Of course, it was sealed, protected by an enchantment as old as the labyrinth itself.

But, as everyone knows, nothing lasts forever, not even a million-­year-­old seal. Even when that seal is regularly maintained.

The shadows gathered around the door, a large obsidian disk hovering a few feet above the ground, engraved with the symbol of the feathered serpent.

The air around the disk shimmered.

Blind though they were, the shadows more than compensated for their lack of sight with an enhanced sense of smell and taste.

Their elongated noses sniffed for an exit point.

Their tapered fingers ran along the smooth black surface, seeking the tiniest opening.

They drew out their pointy tongues and licked the crackling edges.

And that was how they found it. A hairline crack in the seal.

The shadow that found it ripped out one of its own teeth, then wedged the sharp canine into the crack and pounded on it repeatedly with its fist.

The opening expanded.

After three more poundings, the crack was big enough for the shadows to slip through.

And that was how an otherwise ordinary Friday kicked off the beginning of the end.