Preacher's Bloodbath

by Johnstone, William W.

  The rest of the talk didn’t mean anything to him, but he saw a worried frown appear on Audie’s face. Audie and Nazar talked for a while longer, then the priest took his leave.

  “What was that about, Audie?” Preacher asked when Nazar was gone. “You look a mite worried about somethin’.”

  “I am,” Audie said. “According to Nazar, Tenoch has had dozens of slaves out at the cliffs every day, clearing away that avalanche. It won’t be much longer until the trail to the outside world is passable again.”

  Preacher bit back a curse. That was both good news and bad news. If the trail was open again, he and his friends would be able to get out of the hidden valley—if they could escape from their prison.

  But it also meant that Tenoch and his followers could resume their bloodthirsty ways and venture out to kill more trappers in adjoining Shadow Valley, as well as lay their hands on captives to bring back to meet an equally grisly fate in the Aztec city.

  Preacher’s eyes narrowed as he glanced toward Talbot. The man appeared to be asleep, but Preacher didn’t trust him. If they made any plans, Talbot might betray them to their captors. It could be that he still hoped sooner or later they would let him go without killing him, if he made himself useful enough.

  Preacher knew that Audie spoke several languages, including Latin, French, and Spanish. If Preacher had been able to understand those tongues, he and the little man could have conversed without Talbot knowing what they were saying. The only other languages Preacher knew, however, were a smattering of Indian tongues. Audie would know those, too, but since Talbot was a trapper and spent time among the tribes, there was a chance he would understand them, as well.

  They would just have to risk it, Preacher decided. Keeping an eye on Talbot so he’d see it if the man betrayed himself by any reaction, Preacher leaned his head closer to Audie. “We got to figure out a way to get out of here. We’re runnin’ out of time.”

  “Indeed we are,” Audie agreed. “It’s almost time for another sacrifice, and given the grudge that Tenoch bears against you, you’re liable to be the choice when he and Toltecatl come for one of us.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault that gal Eztli took a shine to me,” Preacher protested.

  “No, I suppose not, but that won’t make Tenoch any more kindly disposed toward you.” Audie paused. “Speaking of young women taking a shine to someone . . .” He leaned forward and looked past Preacher at Boone Halliday.

  “You’ve noticed that, too, huh?” the mountain man said.

  “It would be difficult not to notice. The question remains is there any chance the girl would help us?”

  “Maybe, if she’s fallen for Boone as much as it seems like she has.”

  Boone heard Preacher whisper his name and turned his head toward them. “What?”

  On the ropes holding him up, Preacher swayed over toward the young trapper. He whispered, “Keep your voice down,” and nodded meaningfully toward Talbot, who still seemed to be in a stupor.

  A look of understanding came over Boone’s haggard, bearded face. He used what little play was in his ropes to move closer to Preacher and whispered back, “What are you talking about?”

  “How to get out of here,” Preacher told him. “ I reckon it’s gonna depend mostly on you.”

  Boone’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Me? How do you figure that?”

  “That gal Zyanya’s in love with you. You got to convince her to help us escape.”

  Boone shook his head. “I can’t do that. She’ll get in bad trouble if she tries anything like that. They might even kill her.”

  “They’ll kill you . . . they’ll kill all of us, sooner or later . . . if we don’t escape.”

  Boone couldn’t dispute the grim truth of Preacher’s words. They were all doomed if the situation went on like it was.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  CHAPTER 25

  Not surprisingly, Zyanya was among the women who brought supper to the prisoners that day.

  She wasn’t going to miss a chance to see Boone, thought Preacher. He watched as she gave the young trapper a drink from the jug she carried, then hesitated before moving on to the other captives.

  Boone leaned his head forward and spoke to her with an earnest look on his face. His voice was low enough that Preacher couldn’t make out what he was saying in the mixture of languages Boone and Zyanya used to communicate.

  Obviously, she understood him just fine. A look of fear suddenly appeared on her face. She controlled the reaction, but not quickly enough to keep Preacher from seeing it. He knew Boone had just suggested to her that she might find a way to help them escape.

  Zyanya lowered her eyes and shook her head, the movement small enough that none of the guards would notice it. She was telling Boone she couldn’t help. He spoke to her again, more urgently.

  She turned away without giving him a second drink the way she usually did.

  Preacher felt a flash of discouragement, but he wasn’t about to give up hope. That wasn’t his way. Besides, he had known from the start that it might not be easy to persuade Zyanya to help them. After all, she had lived her whole life under the iron heel of the priests and warriors. She wasn’t in the habit of doing things to defy them.

  When the women and the guards were gone, Boone caught Preacher’s eye, sighed, and shook his head.

  “Don’t give up, son,” Preacher whispered. “We’re just gettin’ started.”

  It galled him that he and his friends had to place their fates in the hands of a young woman, but if that was their only chance, they would seize it rather than surrendering to despair.

  Over the next couple days, despair seemed to be winning. Zyanya didn’t show up with the other women. Her place had been taken by someone else, a woman who glared at all of them as if she resented being pressed into duty. Clearly, she wasn’t going to be any help.

  Boone was almost beside himself with worry. When it became obvious that Zyanya wasn’t coming back, he said to Preacher, “What if she told somebody about what I asked her, and they killed her?”

  “They wouldn’t have any reason to do that,” Preacher assured the young trapper.

  In truth it was hard to predict what the Aztecs might do. Savagery seemed to run deep in their blood, at least for some of them.

  He went on. “They ain’t treatin’ us any different than they were before, so chances are she didn’t say anything. Maybe she’s just thinkin’ it over, pretendin’ to be sick or somethin’, while she figures out what to do.” That might be a slender hope, he realized, but he was going to hang on to it anyway.

  The next day, the priest Nazar came to the prison. Audie had explained to Preacher that it was Nazar’s job to study the signs and portents and suggest to Tenoch which of the prisoners should next be sacrificed to the war god Huitzilopochtli. The final decision was Tenoch’s, of course, as the high priest, but he relied on Nazar’s counsel.

  Since Nazar had befriended Audie, it was likely he would keep the former professor alive as long as possible, and he might even extend that courtesy to Nighthawk, since the big Crow was Audie’s partner. So far, however, Nazar hadn’t seemed overly friendly to Preacher or Boone.

  Nazar planted himself directly in front of Preacher and glared at him. His bald head swayed forward on his scrawny neck, making him look more like a snapping turtle than ever. Nazar said something over his shoulder to the pair of guards who had come into the cell with him. They backed off into the doorway.

  Nazar surprised the mountain man by saying to him in English, “You are the one called Preacher.”

  It didn’t sound like a question, but Preacher said, “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “You are the leader of these men.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Reckon I’m in the same boat they are, if you hadn’t noticed, old son. And when did you learn to talk English so good?”

  “I’ve been teaching him more, Preacher,” Audie said. “He wanted to be able to talk to y
ou. He knows how to recognize a natural commander when he sees one, I suppose.”

  They were all whispering, but Nazar inclined his head toward Talbot and said, “Quietly. We do not want that one to hear.”

  “Fine by me,” Preacher said. “What is it you want, Nazar?”

  “You are the one who told this boy to ask Zyanya for her help. To ask her to risk her life.”

  Preacher’s jaw tightened. So Zyanya had said something after all. The jig was up.

  Or was it? Nazar wasn’t yelling for their heads or threatening them. Maybe the priest had something else in mind.

  “You’re the one spinnin’ this yarn,” Preacher grated.

  Nazar lowered his voice even more as he said, “I have told no one. Zyanya is the daughter of my sister. I would not betray her. But neither will I allow her to throw her life away.”

  “Nobody’s askin’ her to do that.”

  Nazar got a contemplative look on his ugly face. “She truly cares for the young man called Boone. She came to me and asked me what she should do. I told her that she does not dare help you unless two promises are made.”

  Preacher’s spirits leaped. His word was his bond, but at the moment, he would promise just about anything if it meant they had a chance of getting out of that miserable cell. “What does she want?” he asked Nazar.

  The priest scowled. “When you leave this place, she wishes to go with you. She would be Boone’s woman.”

  Preacher glanced over at Boone, who looked interested but puzzled. He probably couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “I don’t reckon that’ll be a problem,” Preacher said.

  “You speak for the young one?”

  “I do.”

  If Boone didn’t like it, they could hash that out later. Anyway, he’d acted like he was genuinely fond of Zyanya, and she was a comely young woman, so Preacher didn’t figure it would be a problem.

  “What’s the other thing she wants?” Preacher asked.

  “Before you leave this valley . . . you must kill Tenoch. She fears his vengeance if she betrays him and he still lives.”

  Preacher looked intently at Nazar for a long moment, then said, “It’s sort of hard to guarantee somethin’ like that, but I can promise you I’ll do my dead-level best to kill that miserable varmint.”

  He wasn’t sure at first if that was going to be enough for Nazar, but finally the turtle-like priest nodded.

  “Tonight, she will once again be with the women who bring food and water. She will bring drink for the guards as well, special drink that will make them sleep. When they are no longer awake, she and I will come and free you. She will go with your young friend and the others and leave the valley.”

  Preacher took a deep breath. “The trail through the cliffs . . . ?”

  “A passage has been opened. It is narrow, but one man at a time can get through it.”

  Preacher nodded. “What about you and me? You didn’t say what we’re gonna do?”

  “We will fulfill the second part of the bargain,” Nazar said. “We will go to the temple where Tenoch’s quarters are, and there you will slay him.”

  A grim smile played over Preacher’s lips as he nodded. “You got yourself a deal, mister.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Once Nazar was gone, Preacher told first Audie and then Boone about the plan he and the priest had hatched.

  Boone gulped. “You told him I’d marry Zyanya if we got out of here?”

  “Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Preacher said dryly, “what with him makin’ that a condition of them helpin’ us.”

  “But Preacher, I hadn’t really planned on getting hitched quite so soon . . .”

  “You probably didn’t plan on gettin’ your heart carved out by a bunch of heathen Aztecs, neither,” Preacher pointed out. “You and Zyanya can work everything out between you once we’ve escaped from this hellhole. Until then, we’re gonna do whatever we have to.”

  Boone nodded. “You’re right, of course. Anyway, I’m pretty fond of Zyanya.” He summoned up a smile. “This might turn out all right after all.”

  Preacher just grunted. That evening couldn’t come too soon to suit him. He was ready to get out of the prison—and more than ready for another showdown with Tenoch.

  Of course, because of that eagerness, time seemed to drag more slowly than ever.

  Finally, the faint light that came through the ventilation openings began to dim with the approach of dusk. The women would be there soon with their meager food and water.

  A few minutes later, Preacher heard the guards removing the bar from the door. The heavy panel scraped open. Spear-carrying guards came in first, followed by the women. He didn’t see Zyanya among them. His jaw tightened as he thought that the plan must have fallen through for some reason.

  She appeared in the doorway, carrying one of the regular water jugs as well as a small earthen jug that she handed to one of the guards. The man laughed as he took it and said something that meant nothing to Preacher. She smiled shyly in response, and he knew she was playing up to the man. The guard turned to his companion, grinned, and hefted the jug meaningfully.

  Neither of them drank from it, but Preacher told himself it was just a matter of time.

  The rest of the meal proceeded as usual. Zyanya seemed nervous when she gave water to the prisoners, but he could tell she was trying to control the feeling. She didn’t linger with Boone the way she usually did but rather treated him exactly the same as the others. Clearly, she didn’t want to arouse any suspicion in the guards.

  After all the prisoners had been fed and given a drink, the women left. The door closed, and the bar fell back into its brackets with an ominous thud.

  All they could do was wait.

  Time crept by again. The walls of the prison were so thick that even Preacher’s keen ears couldn’t hear anything that might be going on outside. No one knew about the escape plan except Preacher, Boone, Audie, and Nighthawk, so the other captives dozed off as they usually did. Several of them began to snore loudly.

  The sound of the bar being taken off the door roused them from sleep. One man muttered, “It ain’t mornin’ yet. What the hell . . . ?”

  The door swung open. Against the faint light from outside, Preacher saw the silhouettes of two people enter quickly.

  “What’s going on here?” Talbot asked in a loud, frightened voice. “Are they coming for another sacrifice? They can’t do that at night—”

  “Hush,” Preacher hissed. “Shut your mouth, Talbot, if you want to live.”

  One of the figures approached Preacher. A stray beam of starlight from one of the openings in the roof reflected off metal. Preacher figured it was a knife.

  Question was, would the person use the blade to cut Preacher loose—or slash his throat?

  The mountain man got his answer a second later as the figure raised the knife and began sawing on the tough, braided ropes around his wrists.

  “Be quiet,” Nazar whispered. “We will have you free as quickly as we can.”

  Preacher heard movement to his right. That would be Zyanya cutting Boone loose, more than likely.

  A moment later, the young trapper gasped involuntarily as his arms dropped from their long confinement. “Damn it. I can’t even feel my hands anymore.”

  “You will,” Preacher told him. The ropes holding him parted and allowed him to lower his arms, as well. Almost immediately, his fingers began to tingle painfully as blood rushed into them again. He shook his hands to speed up the process while Nazar moved on to cut Audie loose.

  “Are the guards out cold?” Preacher asked.

  “For now,” Nazar replied. “I do not know how long they will remain that way. We have no time to waste.”

  “Don’t intend to. Boone, gimme your shirt.”

  “My shirt?” Boone asked, sounding surprised.

  “Yeah. I reckon you fellas have probably gotten used to me bein’ nekkid since they brought me back from bein’ s
taked out on that pyramid, but I haven’t. Don’t particularly want to run around this city with no clothes on, neither.”

  “All right. Here.”

  Preacher reached out, found the buckskin shirt that Boone was extending toward him, and tied the sleeves around his waist so the garment served as a crude loincloth. He figured he looked more than a little ridiculous but didn’t really care.

  He wished they had a torch so he could see what was going on, but they couldn’t afford to show any light. He moved toward the doorway, which was visible as a faint gray rectangle, and paused on the threshold to look outside.

  The two guards were slumped a few feet away. Preacher stepped over to the closest guard and picked up a spear that had been dropped when the guards passed out.

  For a second, he considered plunging the weapon into the warrior’s heart, killing him while he was unconscious—probably the smartest thing to do. A man who left enemies alive behind him sometimes found that moment of mercy coming back to haunt him.

  Before he could strike, the former captives began shuffling out of the prison. Audie and Nighthawk were first, followed by Boone and Zyanya, then Nazar and the rest of the trappers. They were all gaunt and weak from hunger and couldn’t move very fast.

  Nazar faced Preacher. “Now you will come with me to the temple. Zyanya will take these others to the Path of the War God.”

  “I reckon that’s what you folks call that trail through the cliffs.”

  “Yes. Tenoch and Eztli proclaimed it a gift from Huitzilopochtli given to our people so that they could resume the sacrifices in his honor.”

  Preacher was prepared to honor the bargain he had struck with the turtle-like priest, although the odds of him being able to invade the temple, kill Tenoch, and get out alive were pretty damn slim. The mountain man had given his word, though.

  First, he wanted to see his friends safely on their way. He turned to Audie, Nighthawk, and Boone. “I’ll see you fellas on the outside—”