Charging the flash

The bloody memory of Montezuma’s worst defeat was etched into Tezcatlipoca’s consciousness.

As next morning’s mist habitually rolled across the lake’s surface it hinted at a scale of carnage only apparent once the morning sun came up one hour later. A spear here, a helmet there. Next a bare torso, its severed head bobbing awkwardly some metres away.

The Lord of the Smoking Mirror had walked the gangplanks so gallantly and patriotically defended many times. Asleep, awake. In this world or the next. It didn’t matter which and didn’t change the outcome, the balance of power that shifted that day forcing the occult to bury itself deeper while the world began its ill-fated love affair with Christianity.

Planks awash with blood. The army – his army – that had been cut down as the Spanish horses galloped through the water (charging the flash) laid six deep in some places. Conquistador casualties had only been high at the beginning of the battle until Cortes himself had appeared and confused some who’d thought he was a god. Thus the acolytes were torn apart for their divided loyalties and Tezcatlipoca himself would gladly have smote the emperor had it been wise to but the calendar wheel had already foretold what path the stars and planets would take and who was he (even he) to question.

Women had come in canoes to silently lay wreaths while others tossed blooms into the water. Multicoloured petals mingled with the blue blood and white pelicans with bright orange bills came to paddle quietly and fish. Even the giant seabirds, the cormorants and albatrosses, found carrion (flesh) on which to feast.

Fish also began to pick clean the bones and rats brave enough to swim found food for themselves for weeks.

The vultures of that day still occupied Tezcatlipoca’s imagination. Silhouettes like black paper aeroplanes circling in their thousands. It was impossible nowadays to see such carnage and receive so many new souls. First he would retrieve the mask and recruit Jimmy. Then he would begin all over again.

Guanajuato’s hills strewn with secret caves and steep, shady overhangs were now strewn with ornate and significant art. These were talismanic drawings that his Excellency the giver of life and death had spent the whole night drawing. Noone could hex him here. Not now.

He began to feel invincible and needed a woman, several women in fact.