So far on the posts for my novel in progress, I have introduced a number of gods from different cultures. There are the Greek gods Dionysus and Athena, the Norse god Odin, the Celtic god Manannan Mac Lir as well as the Trickster Coyote and the Inuit goddess Takanaaluk. Other gods and assorted divine beings also show up here and there throughout the novel.
Given that gods aren’t human there comes the challenge of portraying them in a way that shows they are not human and yet have characteristics we can relate to. The ancient Greeks often ascribed many human motivations to their gods such as jealousy, compassion, desire, anger, sometimes to the point that their divinities came across as mere petty often heartless humans who just happen to be immortal and very powerful. Unfortunately being only human ourselves, we can only relate to beings who share something in common with us. Make them too cosmic and they become abstract and unreal. So in portraying divinities in the story, I had to give them understandable motivations. They are larger than life, embodying aspects of nature, time and human ideals.
Ancient gods were never viewed by their worshipers as pure good or pure evil. That peculiar innovation only popped up with the advent of monotheistic religions. A being that’s pure good or evil would actually be rather boring to read about, not unlike the two-dimensional Sauron from Lord of the Rings who wants to conquer Middle Earth, though it’s never quite clear why he hates its denizens so much. So the divinities who show up in my story are a mix of good and evil in varying measure.
Some divinities are a little tougher to do this with than others. One example already introduced is Santa Muerta, an old Aztec goddess who’s reinvented herself for a new age. She’s the goddess of the dead and has become oddly popular in recent years largely among drug cartels and other elements of the criminal world. Her dark nature appeals to those steeped in violence and bloodshed. While I don’t want to sugarcoat her, I tried not to portray her as pure evil but as an individual with logical motivations that move her to assist Athena and her companions.
Another god being introduced into the narrative is also an Aztec god; Xipe Totec. This guy is really a toughie.
The above picture is actually one of his priests wearing the skin of a sacrificial victim. Xipe Totec himself is known as Our Lord the Flayed One. But I picture him looking much like this. He was the god of vegetation, agriculture and springtime and some distinctly gruesome rituals were conducted in his honor by the Aztecs. Thankfully that’s all gone by the wayside but the idea in the story is that he’s lost his former status as a major god and wants to make a comeback. So the goal is to portray this being as being understandable if not really very likeable.
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The orange glow of the torches lighting the cavern fluctuated with the air currents. The soft rainfall-like patter of dripping blood falling into the receiving bowls under the altar echoed back and forth. Xipe Totec raised the human heart He had just extracted from its owner’s chest. The organ beat weakly for a few seconds then stopped, releasing its istli which He absorbed before it could dissipate. Reverently He placed the heart on a miniature stone jaguar. Now came the part which in ancient days would have been done by the priests but now He had to do Himself.
Using an obsidian blade, He carefully made incisions and gently scraped, peeling away the flesh from the sacrificial victim, a woodcutter who had ventured near the cavern searching for firewood. Once the flaying was complete, He would place the skin in yellow dye, afterwards wearing it in celebration of the equinox. True, it was well past that time, but luring a potential victim into the cavern had been difficult this year. While a glamour hid the entrance from mortal eyes, the disappearance of people was probably giving the area a bad reputation so humans had begun avoiding it. He would have to move again.
Once the flayed skin had been placed in the dye vat and the heart burnt to ashes, He intoned prayers celebrating the arrival of spring. After finishing He then walked to another part of the cavern where the Helm of Ares sat gleaming on an altar slab. It had been a constant fixture in His existence ever since the Catastrophe which extinguished so many of His brethren. The shocking invasion of the monotheists from Europe with their diseases and weapons surged like a dark tidal wave overwhelming the societies He and the Others had grown so dependent on. The temples ruined, the priesthood destroyed, the sacred Day Count of the holy calendar year, all lost or neglected. Xipe Totec Himself barely managed surviving by doing His own sacrifices. But the Others for the most part perished with one or two fleeing into the Otherworld in a desperate effort to survive. Whether They had succeeded or not, He never knew.
Too weak now even to return to the Otherworld though He could see it flickering out of the corner of His eye, He eked out His feeble existence using the Helm as a lure for bringing victims close enough to cast a glamour over them, capturing them. The Helm had been discovered by the Aztecs before the Catastrophe and hidden away as a sacred object, displayed only at certain times of the year. Some of His priests had moved it to a cavern, in an effort to hide it from the rapacious Spaniards. The priests disappeared, never to return. Xipe Totec found the Helm useful for attracting sacrifices. He had even managed capturing a few of those vile conquistadors. The feeling of satisfaction in claiming their istlis did little in changing His situation. He knew it was a pathetic way to live, unworthy of the divinity He knew Himself to be.
But now a glimmer of hope had appeared. The advent of Dionysus made clear a new order was on the way. Xipe Totec meant to take advantage of that. Occasionally He contacted the sacred quetzal bird in an effort to monitor Dionysus’s progress. It was one of the few birds which would still speak to Him, the other birds, particularly the eagle, snubbing Him as no longer of any importance. The day before He took the woodcutter, the quetzal brought a precious tidbit of information. Dionysus was searching for the fragments of Ares’ Armor. He ran His fingers over the Helm. Parting from It would be difficult but Dionysus would make better use of it than Xipe Totec could. Serving the Olympian would help regenerate His own power. If Dionysus was a generous master, and He had no reason to suspect He wasn’t, He could reestablish His own worship under His aegis.
But how would He manage getting to the Son of Zeus? If He had been stronger, He could have just journeyed through the Otherworld bringing the Helm with Him. He could send a message but needed someone to carry it. Rummaging through His collection of tanned hides, both human and animal, he pulled out a section of deerskin and set it out flat on the stone altar with the Helm. He brought over pots of pigment and brushes. Meticulously he brushed glyphs of His own name and that of Dionysus. Then with delicate strokes He painted an image of the Helm. Writing in Nahuatl, He briefly made His offer, then sat back waiting for the inks to dry. Dionysus would be able to divine the meaning of the script. Now all that remained was finding a messenger.
A male resplendent quetzal came in answer to His summons but shook its head at His request.
“Too far for me.” The bird replied. “Only the eagle could and he has already made many rude remarks about You. I don’t think he will help You.”
“But there must be someone.” Said Xipe Totec mournfully. “I don’t have the power to get the message to Dionysus Myself. Is there no one you can think of?”
“There might be one.” Said the quetzal thoughtfully. “But I haven’t seen him in a while. Do You want me to go look for him and ask?”
“Yes, whoever it is. I’m not too proud at this point. Even if it’s just a wren.”
The quetzal flew off. Xipe Totec sat waiting, pondering what other options might be available. There were still minor spirits here and there. But He doubted any of Them would help. He began regretting His association with the other Aztec gods. At one time He had been a minor vegetation god but quickly joined the Gods of the Thirteen Heavens when They invited Him, rising to great power but in the process forgetting the lesser divinities He had once been allied with. Now in the aftermath of the Catastrophe, He was left a weakling, scarcely worthy of the name god. Dionysus was His only hope of getting any power back.
He blinked as a great shadow momentarily blotted out the sun. The quetzal flew into the clearing. Behind him came a gigantic condor, far larger than any of the ordinary ones still living, nearly the size of a cessna. It was the messenger bird of the Inka gods. Unlike the Aztec, the Inka divinities had Transcended, avoiding the loss of power which came with the collapse of the Native cultures. The condor, not being a god, remained behind, perhaps waiting for a time when Someone would have need of him. Was he willing to carry the message?
“This one time, I will carry a message for You.” grunted the condor. “Others are beginning to call for me as Dionysus grows in power. If One Who is opposed to Him takes me into Their service, I will not help You again.”
“I understand.” replied Xipe Totec. “It will be for this one time only. I thank you for your help.”
The condor accepted the message bundle, holding it firmly in his claws. A mighty stroke of his wings launched him into the sky where he circled once then headed north. Xipe Totec watched him until he was out of sight. Now He would have to wait. The quetzal watched also, then turned to the Aztec god.
“If You are successful and come back into Your power, You will remember me?”
“I shall. You will have a favored position unlike the eagle who I will only sneer at!”
The quetzal laughed and flew off. Xipe Totec sat down. The condor was a very fast flyer. He was confident it wouldn’t take long for an answer.
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Will Xipe Totec succeed in his quest? Only time will tell……
