Blue Third: Citlalli and the Destroyer

By Brad Blake

Citlalli and the Destroyer is an epic tale of grand adventure. The novel takes seven teenagers from different cultures, one from 5,000 years ago, and casts them into an amazing journey on which the fate of Earth and the galaxy rests. The story begins by introducing Citlalli in her native Mexico of long ago. After inadvertently becoming a stowaway on a cocoa trader’s interstellar spacecraft, and for reasons made clear, she's teamed with six teenagers of today. They come from different cultures and join Citlalli, along with several alien allies, on journeys that will determine the fate of civilizations in battling a monstrous evil known as The Destroyer. The adventurers include five girls, two boys, and a Basset hound named Lucy. Their journey forces them to grow strong, learn to trust, and even learn to endure pain and horror. They learn about friendship, courage, strength, sacrifice and more. The entire series follows their many unbelievable journeys and adventures throughout time and space.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brad Blake
• Release date: May 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476212548

Brad Blake

Cat Smith is an awarding-winning journalist who resides in Arizona with her young daughter, Brooklyn. When she isn't writing, Cat likes to watch her daughter's baseball games, hang out at the river and lake, catch a movie, travel to the mountains, volunteer with organizations within her home town and enjoy family time with her mom, Anne Z. Smith, on their ranch. The Blake's reside in Oatman, Arizona, an old western mining town that dates back to 1903 and has burros roaming freely in town. The two met when they were eight-years-old when their families became friends. The Blake's are high school sweethearts. They married in 2009 and own several family businesses in Oatman. Their love for animals is another big part of their lives. They couldn't imagine not having Walter or their four German Shepard's as their family members. They have a lot of help taking care of their animal village from their parents and other family members.

Book preview

PART ONE

CITLALLI

Long, long ago there lived a young girl who held the fate of the universe in her hands.

She grew up in a time when happiness was being with family and friends. Her entire life revolved around her family, their village, exciting stories about the gods, and the world they lived in. She was called Citlalli and was part of one of the world’s first great civilizations. They were called Anahuac and lived in a land called Cemanahuac. Today we call this land Mexico.

Little did Citlalli know that her life and everything she knew was about to change in ways far beyond her wildest dreams and imagination.

On this hot afternoon, Citlalli’s black obsidian blade easily sliced kernels off the dried maize cobs in her basket. This sharp cutting tool was made from million-year-old volcanic rock. Her brother had sculpted this blade as a present for her thirteenth birthday. Citlalli used it to help with the village maize harvest. Maize was a staple food of the Anahuac people.

Almost all the village women worked on the harvest, scooping kernels onto large stones and using rocks to grind them into a gritty powder. They were working to store as much maize as possible to feed the village during the winter months.

The Anahuac knew something special about maize: Tiny spirits lived in each kernel, unless they got too hot. The hotter they became, the angrier they got, vibrating and shaking until the heat was too much and they burst out, popping into the air as a puff of steam, angrily searching for another kernel home and leaving popcorn behind.

The Anahuac also harvested cocoa, and some women were slicing cocoa pods from Theobroma trees and removing the cocoa seeds. They had learned to grind the seeds into a dark paste, mixing it with hot water to make a delicious frothy beverage. However, these seeds were being put into large wicker baskets for a long trip—a journey that would change Citlalli’s life forever.

Citlalli had turned thirteen, an exciting age for a young Anahuac girl in 3000 BC. This was a time when children grew up faster and contributed to the well-being of the village. Having lived a full thirteen harvest cycles, Citlalli was old enough to marry and start a family. As a woman, her greatest responsibility in life would be bearing children, and it was important to start families early.

Citlalli lived with her mother, father, two younger sisters, and an older brother, Eztli. She looked at her world through brown eyes, brown skin, with waist-length hair as black as her volcanic obsidian blade.

Unique to Citlalli was a streak of white hair that flowed down the left side. Only her honored grandmother had this gift, and Citlalli was immensely proud of her special trait.

However on this day Citlalli was miserable, finding it hard to concentrate, her young heart in pain. Her parents had promised Citlalli as wife to a neighbor village elder named Quexal. She saw him as old, mean, and ugly...and he already had two wives! But he was one of their valley’s most respected leaders. He would raise the family status and everyone agreed it was a great match, everyone except Citlalli. She secretly thought of him as Mean Old Fart.

The village Patli, or holy man, consulted the sacred calendar, made offerings to the gods, and blessed her union with Mean Old Fart. The bonding would take place during fall solstice ceremony, a single moon cycle away.

Citlalli didn’t care about the blessing, solstice, or anything else. She did not want to marry this mean, ugly old man with two wives. She also knew there was nothing, absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Citlalli sliced and sliced, kernels flying off cobs, a frown causing her young forehead to crease.

While Citlalli agonized, her father and brother were preparing to leave for the spiritual center of the Anahuac world: the high and sacred plateau of Cemanahuac. The fastest runners had brought word of omens and signs pointing to a time of great upheaval and change.

A miracle had occurred.

Sent by the Creator of the Universe, and flying on the wind of Kukulcan in a great white sliver of the moon, the mighty god Tezcatlipoca, master of stars and moon, had arrived on the sacred plateau.

It was indeed truly miraculous.

Like all her people, Citlalli loved and feared the gods. They gave life to everything in the world. They also took life away. The entire universe was their creation. She had nicknamed Tezcatlipoca Tez. Of course she would never dare utter this nickname out loud.

Citlalli would’ve given anything to join her father on this journey, to present Tez with their cocoa offering. But this was a task for her brother Eztli. Citlalli loved Eztli dearly, but she was incredibly jealous.

The news bringers told of Tez’s demand for large amounts of cocoa seeds. Never in the long memory of the Anahuac had a god appeared in human form, and people from every village were traveling with all the cocoa they could carry. Tez was a wrathful god who could bring chaos and death. With this threat spurring them on, the village loaded cocoa seeds into baskets for Tez.

All these things were spinning around Citlalli’s overloaded brain as a nearby commotion caught her attention. A group including her father carried someone to the shade of the communal hut. Sliding the blade into her shoulder pouch she ran over.

Put Eztli down here, said Mecatl, her father. The boys laid her brother on a woven blanket in the shade of the hut. Eztli was on his back, wide awake and okay. Then she noticed his ankle was discolored and badly swollen.

Citlalli saw her father wipe his glistening brow. She could see he was very upset.

We’ll need the Patli, he said. He’ll know what to do. This must be serious if father dared summon the holy medicine man. They scattered in search of the Patli.

A few years older than Citlalli, Eztli adored his little sister. More than anyone he understood her unhappiness about marrying Mean Old Fart.

Hey, little Nene, can you believe your dumb brother?

She kneeled down, noticing his sly smile.

What happened?

We were chasing a boar. I had him in my sights and right as I threw the dart, I stepped in a crevice near the cenote, he sighed. And there’s no way I can travel.

Eztli knew his sister better than anyone. She had dreams and ambitions beyond a normal girl. Growing up they’d talked about the world around them and what lay beyond the land they knew. They’d heard of great bodies of water called oceans that surrounded Cemanahuac. In the heavens they studied the twinkling lights of the gods and the endless spectacle of the night sky. Citlalli often told Etzli she felt drawn to these lights in the sky, as though she was somehow connected to them.

Eztli knew Citlalli was dying to make this trip. Anahuac women rarely traveled and she would never again have this chance.

He raised one innocent eyebrow. Someone has to join father on this cocoa journey. Who do you think should go?

Citlalli’s dark brown eyes bore into Eztli.

I told him what I thought, Eztli shrugged, and he didn’t say no. But as always, it will be up to the Patli to decide.

Mecatl received the Patli’s blessing, knowing he needed Citlalli’s help on the journey. She would still return in time to bond as ordained by the sacred calendar.

Citlalli didn’t care; she was going to Cemanahuac!

In preparing cocoa baskets for the trek, the cocoa was covered with fresh leaves to keep it cooler and blankets were tied on top to keep it from spilling. The baskets were put on wooden sleds, with thick twine tied to each side and looped around the chest of the person pulling. It was hard work dragging a sled in the late summer heat.

After tearful goodbyes to her mother, sisters, and Eztli, Citlalli joined her father and began their fateful journey.

Citlalli had the lightest load, but it was still hard to pull and they moved slowly. Dust clung to sweat, flies buzzed incessantly, birds and monkeys created a symphony of chatter, and the sun beat down relentlessly. They stopped for a midday meal of maize-cakes, but were back on the move and traveling many more miles before dark.

Citlalli knew how to work hard. Everyone in the village had responsibilities, even the youngest children. Even so, this sled pulling was tough. She struggled mightily, but found the strength to endure. She didn’t want to give her father any excuse to send her home.

Around evening campfires the travelers talked about this epic journey. Most had never been to the sacred plateau. For Citlalli, exhausted though she was, this was the most exciting experience of her young life.

They neared the plateau after several days, rapidly approaching their ultimate destination: the sacred center of the Anahuac Empire and Holy Street of the Dead.

They marveled at the mountains of Iztaccihuatl and Popocatepetl that watched over everything. When the gods were unhappy, these mountains belched smoke, fire, and rock, and the earth would violently tremble. However, the mountains had been silent and the earth still for months.

Walking through dirt streets in a young city, Citlalli was surrounded by more people than she’d ever seen. They wore clothing dyed in a rainbow of colors, patterns, and styles. Outside adobe buildings, street vendors offered prickly pear fruit, serpent flowers, woven dolls, obsidian tools, hummingbird feathers, and everything imaginable. She saw monkeys, colorful birds, rodents, lizards, and animals she’d never seen, one which—her father told her—was called a llama. She even saw a sleeping black jaguar, which made her gasp. The black jaguar was sacred to Tez. What did this sign mean? For a brief moment she closed her eyes, feeling as though she were floating with a black jaguar by her side amid the stars in the night sky. Jostled by the crowd, she opened her eyes and the fleeting vision was gone.

At last they arrived at the edge of the great plateau. Cresting a hill they saw the sun’s reflection shimmering off five lakes and some canals that covered much of the plateau. Between the lakes was the center of the Anahuac universe, the Street of the Dead. This was the Anahuac path to heaven. At the end of this long, wide, dirt street Tez had arrived on a sliver of the moon. Its bright glow was visible at the end of the sacred street. The villagers gazed in wonder at this awesome scene, giving thanks for their safe arrival and the honor of delivering the cocoa.

Citlalli looked at her father. He smiled rubbing her hair affectionately, seeming more excited than ever, and Citlalli thought she’d never been happier than at this moment. Naturally the image of Mean Old Fart popped in her mind, and just that quickly happiness was snatched away.

The villagers were directed by a high priest to the entrance of the Street of the Dead. It took an hour walking down the sloping hillside. At the entrance, Citlalli felt she was dreaming, seeing stone buildings with exquisite carvings and paintings on each side of the long street. The street was nearly the length of the entire plateau. They began their holy walk, stopping to pray at each shrine. Citlalli marveled at the sculptures and beautiful artwork, especially a multi-colored wall-sized mural depicting the feathered serpent god, Quetzalcoatl.

All day they passed a steady stream of people who’d made their offering to Tez. By late afternoon the enormous piece of moon lay before Citlalli. Its smooth surface and crescent shape were unbelievable. It was perfect. It was beautiful and obviously came from the gods.

Like everyone, Citlalli stared in awe, walking slowly toward a huge mass of cocoa seeds in front of the moon. They added their seeds and were ready to leave when a holy priest frantically motioned everyone to lie on the ground.

Tez was approaching from within the moon.

Lying face down, Citlalli was able to peek. She saw an opening in the moon and a silhouette emerging. Evening had fallen, allowing the moon’s inner light to shine out. She watched Tez approach, her heart feeling as though it would leap from her body. She heard villagers whimpering in fear.

Tez was dressed strangely, seemed almost as white as the moon, and had hair on his face! The Anahuac people had no facial hair. Touching his wrist as he spoke, his voice was as loud and deep as thunder.

The gods are pleased. You bring great honor to this sacred place. After I return to the heavens, you must build holy monuments dedicated to your moon and sun on this sacred ground, and continue to watch the heavens for our return.

Tez looked at thousands of prostrate Anahuac, as far as the eye could see.

Farewell, until we meet again. He turned and walked back inside the moon, the door sliding closed behind him.

The thousands who witnessed this message and vision slowly stood. Seeing and hearing a god was an experience they would never forget. Their stories about this miracle would live on. The stories would turn into legends. The legends would grow across thousands of years.

The villagers walked to an area set aside for travelers, and as they ate maize-cakes and prickly pear slices around the campfire, everyone shared what they’d seen. It was truly miraculous—seeing a living god.

Eventually thoughts returned to their journey home. Mecatl could see Citlalli was upset. We’ll be fine, he said, Others weren’t allowed to make their cocoa offering. This bodes well for us.

Of course Citlalli was thinking about Mean Old Fart.

Father, she began, wanting to pour her heart out, to tell him how miserable life with Mean Old Fart would be...to find an escape. But her voice trailed off. She knew this was her lot in life. She was to be thankful and count her blessings.

Yes daughter?

Nothing, she whispered, looking away into the darkness, miserable beyond words. She knew it was futile.

Mecatl looked at his daughter, wise enough to know what was upsetting her. But he knew the marriage to Quexal was right, for the family, for their village…and like it or not, that was how things were done. She would be respected and their family would gain in stature throughout the valley. However, he loved his daughter and sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Later that evening Citlalli couldn’t sleep. The excitement of the day and now despair at night had turned jumbled thoughts into a dark whirlpool. It was still warm and she decided to take a walk. Her black hair was tied in a waist-length ponytail, white streak proudly prominent.

An almost full moon lit up the nighttime streets, casting long shadows. Citlalli looked at the bright moon, wondering how the gods had broken off Tez’s piece. The plateau was deathly silent with nearly everyone asleep.

Her stroll brought Citlalli closer to the sliver of moon and without thinking twice she snuck onto the sacred street, silent as an ancestral spirit. From the shadows she could see the moon’s inner light spilling out the door Tez had used. The cocoa pile had vanished. Not a single seed remained in the street and the area seemed deserted.

Citlalli’s curiosity pushed her forward, wondering what the moon felt like and what it looked like inside. Confused emotions drove her on. If she had to spend her life with Mean Old Fart, she deserved this tiny peek.

Getting closer, she saw it stretched across the entire wide street. Stepping out of the shadows, she could almost touch the surface of the moon. She reached out, pausing to gather courage, fingers almost touching. Gently she placed fingertips on the surface, finding the moon as smooth, cold and hard as her volcanic obsidian blade.

Moving faster, Citlalli arrived next to the opening. Her breath came in short gasps, eyes wide, heart beating wildly. What if someone saw her? What if Tez walked out? She stopped. Should she go back? A vision of Mean Old Fart spurred her on. She had to take one quick peek, to see inside the moon.

She reached out, tentatively sticking her hand around the edge, inside the moon. Nothing happened. Peeking around the corner she had to squint in the blinding white light, unable to see a thing. Trembling, she took one step inside the entrance, eyes adjusting to the bright light.

Suddenly she heard humming and felt vibration under her feet. Turning to flee she bumped into a wall. She turned right. She twisted left. Where was the door? Where was the opening? Panic stricken, she whirled looking for an escape...a way out. There were no openings, just a wall and corridor. She was trapped! She heard footsteps. Was it Tez? Terrified, she ran down the narrow corridor, spotting an opening. Could this be a way out? She entered an enormous room filled almost entirely with cocoa seeds. The vibration grew louder and stronger. She scrambled up the pile, causing an avalanche of seeds, then rolled down the other side next to the back wall, out of sight, crouching with all-consuming fear.

At that moment across the plateau, the Anahuac people heard Kukulcan’s sacred wind carrying Tez and the sliver of moon skyward toward the heavens. The sound was briefly like the rumble of the two angry mountains, but quickly stopped. Utter silence fell over the valley.

As Mecatl and tens of thousands of awestruck Anahuac watched in amazement the sliver of moon silently and rapidly ascended into the night sky and disappeared. Mecatl turned to share this moment with Citlalli, but alas, she was already thousands of miles away, and accelerating.

SKLIZZ

On board the crescent-shaped intergalactic spacecraft, Sklizz set controls to auto-zip, targeting the shortcut that brought him to this remote solar system, this planet, the primitive inhabitants, and their amazing cocoa.

Sklizz was homesick after a year of travel, at long last returning to Gelz, his own planet. Gelz was located in a neighboring galaxy, so Sklizz prepared