Words of Love

by Hazel Hunter

  Brett immediately had his arm around her waist.

  “What is it?” he said, staring at her.

  “It’s the glyphs,” she said, unable to take her eyes off them. “They’re cold and dark. What’s beyond will be cold and dark.”

  They both glanced at the cave entrance.

  Suddenly, the words started to form as her internal dictionary of glyphs began to whirl in midair. She began to read.

  “These are the words. If they are not understood by the chiefs of the towns, ill omened is the star adorning the night. Frightful is its house. Sad is the havoc in the courtyards of the nobles. Those who die are those who do not understand.”

  “Well,” said Brett. “I didn’t get exactly that reading.” He squeezed her waist. “That’s why you’re here.”

  A feeling of anxiety started to fill her.

  “It’s the test,” she whispered. “The test of kings.” She looked at Brett, suddenly afraid. “It’s the secret kingly language and it’s a test. If you don’t understand what it’s trying to say, you’ll die.”

  “But you just read it. You understand what it says.”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s not that easy,” she said.

  “I guess you make it look easy.”

  He tugged her hand and went to a rough electrical box on the floor, beside himself with excitement.

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” she said.

  Brett flipped the power switch and light suddenly flooded the last cavern and poured out through the entrance. As he pulled her through, Jesse couldn’t help but gasp.

  • • • • •

  For once, Brett didn’t need to stare at it himself. He’d seen it enough. Instead he watched Jesse. The utter astonishment on her face made him grin.

  “A pyramid?” she said. “A pyramid? In here?”

  As Brett gave her a few moments to take it in, he remembered what it’d been like the first time he’d seen it. It’d only been with a lantern and a headlamp but it might have even been more dramatic that way.

  After discovering the entrance to the cave and the first cavern, he had raced through them all, almost as they’d done just now. It was the day he knew his career was made. Although he hadn’t known it then, though, it was also the day his obsession with the site had begun, and his marriage had ended.

  “I don’t believe this,” Jesse said.

  Now she took his hand and tugged him along.

  As though she had a homing instinct, she zeroed in on the exact stela he’d wanted her to see. Unlike the other stela and glyph panels, she didn’t run up to it. She was holding back this time and her hand grasped his in a slick but tight grip. She stopped several paces away. Although she couldn’t possibly reach it, her other hand stretched toward it and moved as though it were running over the lines. Her lips began to silently move and then the words began to flow.

  “So it was said on high, so it was said. Construct for me the large hat. Make it very large with the white rattle in your hand. A green jaguar is seated over the sun to drink its blood.”

  Again, not exactly what he’d thought it said, but pretty close. Even so, he had no idea what it meant. How could you make a hat using a rattle?

  The pyramid had defied every effort he’d made to penetrate it. He’d been in the building at the top. He’d been all around the periphery. He’d been over every square inch of the staircases on all four sides. There was no way in. And yet, that’s where the Red King was buried. He had to be.

  Jesse blinked and took in a deep breath. As Brett waited for her to return from her private world, he realized she was sweating. A small trickle of moisture slipped down the front of her throat and into the dip between her breasts. The tank top was wet just below them. It was warm but not that warm.

  “It’s the first test,” she said, turning to focus on him. “It’s the language of Zuyua.” She glanced at the glyphs. “So that means,” she paused as though she were doing division in her head. “We need to find a plumeria flower.”

  Now it was Brett’s turn to blink as he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “A what?”

  “The white flower,” she said again, as though it were obvious. “The sacred flower of the Maya.”

  “Okay,” said Brett. “You’ve lost me. What does a large hat have to do with a flower?”

  “It’s the test,” she said. “The language of Zuyua. It’s like a riddle. Well, not really a riddle.” She paused. “Okay, it’s a pun. Think of it as a pun.”

  Brett shook his head again. This was not helping.

  “A pun? You mean like a joke?”

  Jesse quickly shook her head and scowled.

  “Oh no. Not a joke at all. A sound-alike word.” She grimaced a little. “That’s not right either. What am I trying to say?” She glanced at the glyphs. “A metaphor.”

  “The rattle is not the thing,” she said. “The rattle is the sound. It’s the sound that a rattlesnake makes. But the way that rattlesnake is written is actually lord snake.”

  “Okay,” Brett said, nodding. “The white rattle is lord snake.”

  Jesse smiled and nodded her head quickly.

  “Exactly. But lord snake is also the lord of the twentieth day on the cyclical calendar. And the word for the twentieth day of the calendar is tonalamatl or flower. And the most sacred of all Maya flowers is the plumeria and it’s white.”

  “Whoa,” Brett said. “Take me through that again.”

  She repeated the sequence–the chain of soundalike words and look-alike glyphs, tracing the thread of the real meaning from start to end.

  “Wow,” Brett said quietly.

  It was more than a metaphor, much more. It was several ancient dialects, the images used in the glyphs, the calendar–he shook his head.

  “How do you do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I wish you could see how I see it.”

  Suddenly, he remembered where he’d seen a flower.

  “I know where it is,” he said, grabbing her hand. “This side.”

  As they rounded the right corner of the pyramid, Brett could almost see it.

  “There,” he said pointing.

  The central staircase was flanked on both sides by wide, flat seams of stones that went from the top to the bottom. But, at the bottom, the seams ended in ornate carvings. They were blocky and roughly the shape of a cube but they were plumerias–both of them, though not identical. They had always bothered him and now he knew why. Instead of the correct five petals, the one on the right had a strange looking sixth one. The flower on the left had five petals but the glyph of a jaguar at the center.

  He and Jesse stood between the two, at the center of the staircase. He crouched to see them from eye level. There had been no way for him to know to concentrate here. The entire pyramid was covered with symbols like these. He must have walked past them dozens of times but, without knowing they were important, they were just more architectural detail.

  From the low angle, he realized that both cornices had slots underneath them, deep grooves in the stones on which they sat. And the flowers themselves seemed to have thick, square stems.

  They were levers.

  “A green jaguar is seated over the sun,” he muttered, as he quickly strode to the one on the left, the one with the jaguar glyph, and pushed down on it.

  “No, Brett!” Jesse yelled, reaching for him, but it was too late.

  As the lever went down, a single block in the fourth step simultaneously raised and dirt immediately spewed out–directly at them. Though Jesse got her hands up in time, the mass of dirt knocked her backward. It hit Brett lower and he was able to stay upright.

  “Jesse!” he screamed.

  Even as he reached out to her, the dirt was quickly becoming a stream. He was having a hard time keeping his feet and she was starting to slide away. It was up to his knees now but he surged forward with it. Jesse was barely keeping her head above the surfa
ce. He bent low, thrust his hands into the still rising dirt, and grabbed her around the midsection. He pulled up as her stomach jackknifed around his arm but she was clear.

  She landed on her feet next to him but he kept his arm around her waist. Rather than try to fight the flow, he continued to move with it and to the side, toward its edge. In his peripheral vision he saw they were approaching the wall of the cave. If they ended up there, they’d be buried.

  He pushed into the rising tide, closer to the edge, pulling Jesse with him, and finally the depth started to decrease. Then suddenly they were running, able to lift their feet clear of the soil. In moments, they were at the edge of what had become a river of earth and Brett let her go as they both caught their breath.

  A concussive explosion made them both turn. Jesse hugged him around the waist as he put an arm around her shoulders. In the dark distance, beyond the reach of the floodlights, the dirt had met the wall.

  He looked down at her.

  “Are you okay?” he said, still breathing hard. She was wiping dirt from her mouth but nodded yes. “How did you know?” Brett said. “How did you know I picked the wrong one?”

  “The glyphs,” she said, between breaths. “It said green jaguar but it meant green chili.” He stared down at her. “It’s…” she said. “It’s the same as with the white rattle but the jaguar ends up being a chili. The chili was on the right hand sculpture.”

  Brett scowled, trying to remember.

  Yes, the six petals when there should have been five. The one had been a shape that might have resembled a green chili.

  “Next time,” he said. “Remind me to ask you first.”

  She nodded, still trying to wipe away dirt. A fine dust coated her face and he supposed he must look the same.

  He looked back to the pyramid. It looked as it always had but it had to be hollow inside now. The dirt must have been stored there and his simple lever action had trigged another and another, until greater and greater levers had been able to unleash the torrent.

  “We failed the test,” Jesse said, quietly.

  “No, I failed the test,” he replied. “I’m apparently not cut out to be a Maya king.” He looked down at her. “Unless it’s the king of dirt.”

  And obsession, he thought. Yet again, it had nearly ended in disaster. He realized he was holding her tightly and relaxed his grip but he didn’t let her go. Though she didn’t appear to be shaken, he now knew she tried to hide things. She was still staring at the pyramid.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he said.

  She looked up at him.

  “I’m fine, Brett,” she said. “Really.”

  He brushed some hair back from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. Though it was impossible to know for sure, she did seem fine.

  “You’re filthy,” he said, smiling at her.

  “Really?” she said, finally smiling. “Well, don’t look now, but you’re a mess.”

  Although he had to laugh, both of their smiles quickly faded. The hulking pyramid loomed like a stone sentinel against the dark. In all the times he’d visited it, climbed around it, and pored over it, he’d never sensed the danger it harbored. The Red King played a treacherous game–a deadly one. As though she sensed it too, he felt a mild tremor run through Jesse’s body. He instinctively turned to her and held her closer. But rather than meet his gaze, she looked down between them. She was afraid but she didn’t want to show it.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

  “Honestly,” Jesse said. “I was thinking that a shower would be nice.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As Brett led her by the hand, Jesse realized where they must be headed. The monsoon was finally starting to relent but the rain was still coming down at the cave entrance.

  “I think of it as rustic,” he said, as he started to take off his clothes. “The best spot is right over here.” The curtain of water behind him poured down from the slope above. “It’s flat and not so slippery,” he said as he continued to strip.

  Jesse stared at him.

  Despite having made love, she was still amazed by Brett’s body. He could’ve been a model. No, she thought. He could have been a sculptor’s model, posing as a Greek or Roman god. As he bent to move a bar of soap that she hadn’t realized was there, she watched the hard ripple of his muscles.

  As he stepped into the water and ran his fingers through his hair, his broad and mounded pecs lifted and his back flared even wider. He turned in the water and Jesse realized how every bit of his six-pack stood out from the rest. At his sides, corded muscles flanked him and framed his narrow hips. Even from the side, he was triangular–the bulging expanse of his chest tapered to an incredibly lean waist. Then the triangle inverted as his hips widened to tight buttocks and then his bulky thighs. Water coursed down the deep channel in the center of his chest, flowed over his navel, and then into his groin. He turned again, giving a sensuous twist to his torso as the muscles of his wide shoulders bunched.

  As Jesse gaped at the utterly masculine display, she found her eyes centered on the flat, taut triangle above his groin. She imagined the sinewy flesh between his hips suddenly tightening as it would when he thrust into her and an ache of desire pulsed between her legs. She watched the water shimmer and cascade over his powerful contours as the words of Chilam Balam came to her mind: “Joy is the law of the entire world. It is a rich year and the year is good. The rains are good.”

  She might have watched him forever but she realized he had turned to her. Now he held out his hand.

  “There’s room for two,” he said.

  • • • • •

  Brett watched as Jesse almost stepped in with her clothes. At first he thought she’d meant to but when she suddenly realized, she backed up. He knew very well the effect he had on women but the effect he’d had on Jesse just now had been an accident. She was flustered and, though he hadn’t intended her to be, he found he was a little glad.

  Each time they’d made love, he had been the one to initiate it. After making it through the storm and then after she’d read the love poem in the Caracol, it had been him who had needed her. Though her response said she needed him as well, he wanted more than just a response.

  He watched as she took off the filthy clothes. The dirt had managed to get inside them but, as she removed her bra and panties, the contrast between her pale skin and the dark soil couldn’t have been greater. Her hourglass shape stood out as though it’d been highlighted. Despite himself, he realized warmth had already begun to spread in his groin.

  She moved her clothes aside and, as she turned to him, he extended his hand again.

  “The water is fine,” he said.

  But she seemed to have lost her voice. Then, as she took his hand, she blushed. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he found that adorable. Slowly, she slid into the sheet of water with him. As though she were passing through a curtain, the dirt immediately ran down her and disappeared. She tilted her face up to the water as she closed her eyes and smoothed her hair back. Brett let her hand go and picked up the bar of soap he’d left on the floor.

  As she tilted her head back, water poured down the milky white skin at the front of her throat and over her breasts, where it dripped in small cascades from the rose-tipped nipples.

  “The water is so soft,” she said quietly.

  What would be soft was cupping her breasts, feeling the lush fullness of them in his palms, but instead he rubbed the oval bar of soap loudly between his hands.

  “Let me get your back,” he said, letting the soap slip to the floor.

  She stepped forward, out of the water, and he stood to her side and slightly behind. His eyes immediately fell on the light pink burn area. It wasn’t peeling, which was a relief.

  He started there, gently massaging the white lather in small circles. She rocked forward a little and he laid his other hand on her flat stomach to keep her steady. Slo
wly his fingers worked around her shoulder blades, across her shoulders, and then down. The soap made her already satiny skin slick and he used his entire hand to rub down one side of her back and then up the other. His fingers moved along the dip of her spine, down and then up, while his other hand slid across her supple abdomen. He could feel her muscles relaxing and he let the hand on her back rub down over her plump buttock. He gently massaged her, front and back, as she swayed with his movements. Though he’d just been about to pick up the soap again, he felt her hands cover his on her stomach. He paused, thinking that she was getting her balance, but then she gently slid his hand lower.

  Though his arousal immediately stiffened, he almost couldn’t believe what she was doing. He tried to relax his arm as her soft hands guided his downward. Her skin slid effortlessly beneath his soapy fingers. Her hands rode on top of his as he swept slowly across her velvety mound. As his fingers crested the edge, they eagerly sought out the delicate softness he knew would be there. Then, when he quickly found her center she sharply inhaled and shuddered. The slippery wetness was warm and petal-soft as his fingers gingerly explored her. Though she had begun to widen her stance she froze as he caressed her. His fingertips circled around her tender flesh, rubbing lightly, as she exhaled in a low moan.

  Her glistening breasts quivered, mounded together between her arms, and her diaphragm sucked inward as he caressed her again. Finally, he put his chest to her back, settled his free hand on top of both of hers, and leaned down next to her ear.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Every time I see you, you’re even more beautiful.”

  • • • • •

  Jesse could still hear Brett’s words ringing in her head.

  He’d said that she was beautiful. No one had ever said that but especially not someone like him. Even the press of his lips on her neck said the same. Though it seemed impossible, she was starting to believe him. But more than that, she wanted to believe him because she’d felt something for him from the first time they’d made love.