William didn’t like the cold way the grey men discussed the Mayan people, like they were animals being rounded up for a new zoo. But all things considered, their arrival had occurred at a calculated moment in time to prevent a battle that would have cost the lives of a lot of people on both sides. He only hoped that their intensions were sincere, and that the people would be given the option to stay behind if they chose to.
Chapter Seventeen
Upon returning to Dzibanché, William helped Teshna and Priest Quisac to round up the remaining residents hiding in the city center. After gathering them in the courtyard of the King’s palace, they explained how their brothers from the stars had arrived to avert the battle, and that they would be taken to a new world where they could live in peace.
Many of the older Mayans refused to go. They had lived in that area all their lives and insisted that they stay behind. William didn’t blame them, for he also had reservations about the plan. However, the King had made up his mind about the relocation, and William agreed that it would be safer for them to go with the others than to stay behind.
He wished that Yax had been there. His presence would have helped to persuade the stubborn elderly Mayans. Yax had remained on the vessel to iron out some resettling details. Housing had been provided for everyone in the artificial environment on the craft—huts similar to what they were accustomed to on the surface. But their grey benefactors left it up to them to assign their own accommodations. Food also arrived at intervals from the triangular pillar that rose from the plaza center, and a distribution method had to be worked out.
Betty stayed on the craft too. She told Yax that she wanted to help with the transition. But in truth, William had asked her to keep an eye on things over the days leading up to the eclipse. There was something awkward about the whole situation. Salmac, Etznab, and most of the warriors were missing. When William had pressed the leader of the greys for an explanation, Seblinov said that the warrior-class was taken to another area for closer screening. He wondered if they were still alive.
The strange grey men seemed to lack emotion, which made it difficult for William to assess their sincerity. Even Priest Quisac was blocked from their thoughts and deeper motives. If something unusual was going on there, William hoped that Betty might notice. If she uncovered anything disconcerting, William planned to tell Yax about it, and suggest that they all be placed at Chichén Itzá instead of venturing to the other world. William had already decided that he wasn’t going to leave. Being cooped up in that chamber on the vessel, for God knows how long, wasn’t something he planned to sign up for. Besides, the greys were only after the Mayans of a pure lineage, and he figured they wouldn’t want him. He wondered if Teshna would stay with him when the time came for her to make a decision… if she was allowed to make a decision.
“This is the last of them,” William said to Teshna, after leading the final batch of kids and elderly to the edge of the clearing.
“I wish you would come, Balam,” Teshna said.
William held her in his arms, feeling the warmth of her skin pressed against him, not wanting her to leave. “Priest Quisac needs me to stay—to prepare for the ritual to reverse the soil plague, and… for some other tasks. Besides, the eclipse is in just seven days. We’ll be back together then.”
“What will we do after the ritual is over?” she asked.
William looked deep into Teshna’s eyes and sighed. “All I know is that I want us to stay together, Teshna.” He kissed her and held her tight before letting her go.
In a brilliant burst of light, Teshna and the last of the citizens were gone. William stood alone at the edge of the jungle, watching the shadow of the dark cloud drift across the field. He would not see Teshna again until the day of the lunar eclipse, and he already missed her. He remained in the clearing until the cloud disappeared from view. With a heavy sigh, he headed up the path to meet with Priest Quisac at the King’s palace.
Priest Quisac’s first order of business was to dismantle all the dangerous traps that had been set for the battle. They started with the traps in the ceremonial center and worked their way out over the days ahead. The pits with spikes weren’t too complicated, just exhausting with the repetition of digging up each spike. The spring-loaded snares were more challenging to take apart. William had to set them off by throwing rocks until he hit the trigger. It only took one detonation for him to figure out how far away he needed to be to avoid the razor-sharp obsidian shrapnel; the cuts on his arms and legs reminded him of that detail. The process gave William plenty of practice with the bloodstone’s empowered throw ability—to focus his aim over a long distance, watching through the perspective of the rock as he guided it to the target.
One afternoon, they spent a few hours going over the details of the ritual. Priest Quisac set a heavy stone axe beside a chopping block at the ballcourt, readying it for the night of the sacrifice. William was relieved to learn that Priest Quisac would take care of the more gruesome task of cutting off King Aztuk’s head. William’s job was to drain his blood with the bloodstone—like he accidentally did to the warrior in Bacalar. They went over the specific steps of the ritual several times. It seemed like a rehearsal for some crazy religious event—finishing with the prayer of resurrection, casting the bloodstone inside a ceramic jar, and onto the ballcourt.
William was prepared for the Resurrection Ritual. They had a few days to spare before the coming eclipse, and only one trap to go. After pulling the spikes out of the last pit, they came across a withered body.
“What the hell is this?” William asked, staring at the decaying body near the trail that led to the city. A foul stench hung in the breeze. Following the smell, they discovered even more bodies; it was the elders who had refused to go with the others up to the vessel. They were all dead; they appeared bloodless, like dried-out sponges.
“This one is the same,” Priest Quisac said, holding the stiff arm of the dead woman beside him.
“So all these bodies have been drained of their blood? Who could be doing this?”
The Serpent Priest regarded William with a grim expression. “This is not the work of Man. See this bite?” He lifted the dead lady’s hair, exposing a narrow slit at the base of her neck.
“What kind of animal kills like that?” William asked.
“I would not describe this as an animal.”
“Wonderful! So what is it?”
Priest Quisac stood and scanned the area. “It is the bite of the chupacabra.” He leaned over to touch an odd footprint in the dirt, left by something with long claws. “From the tracks, there appears to be three of them.”
“A chupacabra?” William asked, with a wave of fear washing over him. He recalled the warning from the Sun god, Kinich Ahau—that the chupacabras would come for him. “You mean they’re real?”
“They are creatures of the underworld… sent to the surface for… specific tasks.”
A branch snapped in the distance. William jumped and instinctively pulled his obsidian dagger from his belt. “What is their task?” He already knew the answer.
“We are safe for the moment. Chupacabras hunt at night,” Priest Quisac said.
William looked at the sun, which would be setting in a few hours. He shifted his attention back to the Serpent Priest. “The chupacabras have come for me… to take the bloodstone, right?”
Priest Quisac glanced back to the trail as though he heard something coming. “Yes, these creatures would not venture into our dead lands unless they had a purpose here. It is possible that they have been… assigned to us.” Images of horrible beasts flashed through William’s mind as he tried to imagine what the creature might look like.
“Assigned to us?” William asked with a nervous laugh. “By the feathered serpents?”
“Yes. This recent feeding has empowered them toward that goal.”
William remembered another connection with the chupacabras. “In the ‘Legend of the Serpent Passage,’ you said the feathered serpe
nts sent the chupacabras to kill the last of the Olmec. But they weren’t after the bloodstone then. So why do they want it now?”
A familiar voice answered William’s question, startling them both. “To end the connection of the gods in our lands.”
“Priest Hexel?” William asked. “Is that you?” “It is,” he said in a weary voice.
William was surprised to see the old priest—the one who had been tied to a tree in Bacalar for target practice, before they rescued him.
“Where are the feathered serpents then?” William asked.
“They live in the caverns beneath the surface of this world,” Priest Quisac said. “They have not been seen for a long time.”
Priest Hexel sighed. “There is much to explain. But I must rest, for I have not slept since the creatures began tracking us two days ago.”
Priest Quisac glanced around as if looking for someone else. “Are there others?”
Priest Hexel shook his head. “I could not protect those who accompanied me on this journey.”
“Come, we are close to the palace,” Priest Quisac said. “We will speak more on this in the evening.”
Without another word, they marched back to Dzibanché.
While Priest Hexel slept, William and Priest Quisac had dinner beside the great ceiba tree. They spent time with the tree every day, as one would visit a sick relative at the hospital. A single withered leaf clung to a branch like a faint heartbeat.
Priest Hexel stormed into the courtyard. “What are you doing out here?” he asked with a paranoid face. “We must find a safe place for the night.”
“You didn’t travel all the way from Chichén Itzá merely to warn us of the chupacabras?” Priest Quisac asked while chewing on a piece of dried venison. He set his atlatl on his lap and readied it with a dart.
“That is true. King Kukulcan requests that you bring the bloodstone and a seed from the great ceiba tree. We must begin a new Tree of Life in Chichén Itzá.”
“Why?” William asked, glancing at the ceiba tree beside him, stroking its buttress roots like it was his pet.
Priest Hexel rushed to the entrance of the palace, staring out for a moment. He spun around and said, “The north must be protected, just as we have been protected here in the south—since the time of Pakal the Great. The feathered serpents are influencing the Toltecs. They seek to conquer Chichén Itzá. But King Kukulcan believes that with a new Tree of Life in the north, the feathered serpents can be pushed back, and an alliance can be formed with the Toltecs.”
“I don’t understand,” William said, shaking his head with a perplexed look. “What does this have to do with the chupacabras wanting to kill us?”
“The chupacabras were sent by the feathered serpents to stop you. They do not want a Tree of Life created in the north.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder as if he heard something coming. “King Kukulcan needs your help, Balam. He is planning a building project that is meant for the people of your time… at the end of the Great Cycle. Chichén Itzá must succeed in this mission. The feathered serpents will try to prevent it.”
“What project?” William asked.
“King Kukulcan intends to…” Priest Hexel froze in his stance, looking like a statue beneath the arched entrance of the palace. His eyes opened wide, like he was having a revelation of sorts.
William waited for Priest Hexel to continue; he was anxious to hear the profound thought that had him so captivated. Instead, a shrill screech bellowed from his lungs. His face turned pale and he fell over like a tree, face first onto the ground.
Behind Priest Hexel stood a green fuzzy creature with long black spines on its back. It was a chupacabra, standing upright on its clawed feet. Its snake-like tongue stretched the distance to the back of Priest Hexel’s neck, making a sick gargling sound as it sucked out his blood—hunched over as its belly filled up like a water balloon. Its huge black eyes—half the size of its head—rolled over to look at them, while it continued to vacuum the fluids out from its prey.
The Serpent Priest readied his atlatl and launched an obsidian dart at the beast. The chupacabra’s tongue snapped back into its mouth like a recoiling tape measure. It let out a high-pitched howl when the dart sunk into its green chest; yellowish goop oozed out through the wound. It yanked the blade out with its claws and hissed at them, displaying its rows of sharp teeth. In pain, it fled.
Two more chupacabra’s sprang into the courtyard from the exterior walls of the palace, growling as they crept closer.
Priest Quisac snatched the sacred flashlight from his belt and turned it on, beaming it into their eyes. The creatures squealed like vampires burning from the light of the sun. “Run!” Priest Quisac shouted. “To the King’s chambers!”
William raced up the steps and down the hall, with the Serpent Priest just behind him. The chupacabras followed; their clawed feet scraped along the plaster floor as they charged after them.
Upon reaching the King’s chambers, they shut and barred the heavy wooden door. The chupacabras slammed into it and began digging at the door with their sharp nails. William heard the sound of wood curling as it was shaved off the door in strips. William applied all his weight to hold the door in place. “They’ll tear it down!”
Priest Quisac pushed Yax’s throne to the side. He grabbed a handle on the floor and lifted a stone slab that exposed a chamber below. “This way,” he said, motioning for William to get in.
The creature’s claw broke through the door and swiped at William’s face, just missing him. He rushed over to the opening and jumped into the cramped chamber below. The Serpent Priest followed him in and slid the slab back in place. As Priest Quisac bolted the hatch, William heard the door to the King’s room crash down. The chupacabras yanked at the slab from above, but they could not lift it.
After listening to the creatures screech in frustration above them for several minutes, Priest Quisac turned to William and said, “We are safe here. Try to sleep.” He turned off the sacred flashlight.
William was still too freaked out to respond. Sleeping didn’t seem like an option either, with the creatures stirring about and clawing at the floor above them.
After a long restless night, the noise from the chupacabras abruptly ceased. “It must be dawn,” the Serpent Priest said. “They don’t like the light. We will be safe until the evening.”
They opened the hatch above them and crawled out, noticing the shambles the beasts had made of Yax’s room, like a tornado had swept through the place. Upon making their way out, they came across Priest Hexel’s corpse near the palace entrance. William grimaced when they turned the stiff body over; the priest looked like a big piece of dried fruit dressed in Mayan clothing.
After a moment of silence, they searched the area around the palace, hoping to find a dead chupacabra—the one that had been wounded by Priest Quisac’s dart. They followed a trail of yellow blood into the jungle, but there was no sign of the creature.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“For now, we must attend to the priest’s body,” Priest Quisac said. “Then we will prepare for our next encounter.”
Standing along the steps of the King’s palace, William watched Priest Hexel’s body burn up in a blazing fire. Priest Quisac had rejected William’s idea to speed up the process by giving the priest a simple burial. He explained that a priest of the Solar Cult—a Serpent Priest—must always be returned to the earth in ashes to prevent the body parts from being used with spells. The cremation turned out to be a quick process anyway, as the dried-out corpse disintegrated before the pile of burning branches beneath it.
Priest Quisac turned to William with a vengeance in his eyes that he had not seen since Bacalar. “Now to the preparations we discussed earlier. They will come again, but this night we will be ready for them!”
They proceeded to the courtyard beneath the Temple of Lintels to a spot where the plaster surface had been removed and dug twenty feet down—the large pit was one of the first
traps they had dismantled days before. Priest Quisac said they needed to make it operational again, but with a slight variation. Knowing the chupacabras could come from any direction, they would have to bait them from inside the trap.
William spent most the morning chopping down trees, cutting off branches, and hauling timber over to the pit. They worked from the base of the pit, propping up the tree trunks like a big teepee, and tied them together with ropes. Priest Quisac used branches to build a platform near the top of the structure, at the same level as the plaster courtyard, while William put all the spikes back into place—burying them into the ground with the tips of the sharpened ends sticking up.
The platform was stocked with some food and water, in case they had to wait there all night. They armed it with spears, daggers, and swords. Finally, the sacred weapon was brought up, charged and ready to deliver two powerful blasts. As dusk neared, they placed bamboo shoots across the surface of the pit and covered them with palm leaves to conceal the trap.
“What do you think?” William asked from the platform at the center of the pit; he appeared to be standing in the middle of the courtyard with leaves scattered around his feet.
“It will have to do,” the Serpent Priest said. He held a green box in his hands. “Come now, we must secure the bloodstone… in case we do not survive this night.”
After William placed the bloodstone in the jade box, they went to the Temple of the Owl and entered a chamber beneath it, hiding the bloodstone in a secret compartment behind the wall. While beaming the sacred flashlight around the room, William noticed a sarcophagus and asked about it. He recalled how a body had been discovered there in his time.
“It is the body of the Queen,” Priest Quisac said. “She died giving birth to Yax.”
“You mean Teshna’s mom?” William asked. He had never questioned Teshna about her mother. He assumed she was already dead—for the topic never came up—and he didn’t want to stir up old wounds. He knew from personal experience just how painful the loss of a parent was.
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