A small ray of warmth lit Sky Knife’s heart from the tattoo at his neck. The dreadful calm in his mind shifted just a little. Sky Knife tried to move his hands, but they were still beyond his control. At least now, he had a little hope that he would be able to free himself from Death Smoke’s spell. But what about Bone Splinter? Sky Knife could not turn around to see the warrior, but he heard the big man walking behind him. Perhaps if Sky Knife could free himself, he would be able to help the other man.
Death Smoke continued walking toward the pyramid at the center of the cavern while Stone Jaguar’s gaze never left Sky Knife. Finally, they arrived at the base of the structure.
“Come here,” commanded Stone Jaguar.
Sky Knife’s legs took him up the nine steps to the top of the structure. His feet squelched in the layers of dried and almost-dried blood on the steps. Some of the blood slid between his toes. It was warm and slick.
Sky Knife’s feet brought him halfway across the top of the pyramid, close enough to Stone Jaguar to touch him if his hands had been under his control.
“Pretentious boy,” growled Stone Jaguar. “First you wear four stripes of paint as if you were royal, and now you wear the cloak of the High Priest! I will be well rid of you.”
Another sliver of warmth crept into Sky Knife’s heart. A healthy, warm feeling flowered in his chest and spread slowly to his shoulders. The sorcerous burden of calm relaxed a bit more.
Stone Jaguar reached out to grab the jaguar skin cloak, but it billowed up and back, out of his reach, as if a sudden wind had caught it. Sky Knife felt no breeze, only the awful tingle of sorcery against his skin.
Death Smoke laughed. The sound surprised Sky Knife, as it came from just behind him. He had not heard the other man come up the steps.
“I told you the cloak was no longer yours,” said Death Smoke. “If Sky Knife is allowed to touch it, it is the will of the gods.”
“What gods?” asked Stone Jaguar. “The gods of Tikal should be protecting me, not him. I am the one acting in their behalf. I am Ah men of Tikal.”
“Perhaps the gods see it differently,” said Death Smoke. “Or perhaps they have become too confused by the foreign influences in our city.”
Stone Jaguar stepped back. “I will have my cloak back,” he said. “Sky Knife will not wear it to his grave, confused gods or no.”
Sky Knife wanted to ask Stone Jaguar so many questions, but his lips and jaw remained fastened shut.
“You will never wear it again,” said Death Smoke. “I have seen it.”
“You were the one who saw your own death, yet here you are, younger and healthier than I’ve ever known you,” said Stone Jaguar. “Perhaps your sight is what is confused.”
As the other men bickered, Sky Knife concentrated on his hands. Slowly, so slowly, he found he could twitch his fingers. He took a deep breath and a tendril of fear swept back into his mind. Sky Knife could have cried with relief.
“The time draws near,” said Death Smoke.
“Oh, shut up, old man,” said Stone Jaguar.
“Be careful what you say to me,” whispered Death Smoke. “You could not have done all this without me. It was I who drew the farmers here for you to sacrifice. You have made nothing but mistakes. You called Cizin—and cannot now drive him away. You thought Sky Knife was no threat, yet here he is.”
“He is under your power,” said Stone Jaguar. “So he is no threat.”
“But he got here,” insisted Death Smoke. “He should not have been able to come so far without training. And you could not even kill him when you had the chance.”
“It is just as well. He can die on my altar tonight. And don’t forget your clumsy attempt to poison him. Drinking the water of the pool, a test of a priest—bah.”
“What about you?” shouted Death Smoke. “You threw a rock! You, Ah men and Ah nacom of Tikal, threw a rock at a boy.”
Sky Knife made a fist carefully and flexed his toes. The warmth from his tattoo had spread over his entire body and into his mind. Sky Knife fought to keep his revulsion at the sights in the cavern from showing on his face.
“Come, boy,” said Stone Jaguar. Sky Knife took an unwilling step forward, but the overwhelming compulsion he had felt earlier had faded. He could not disobey. Not yet. But soon.
“Lie down on the altar,” commanded Stone Jaguar. “Your Mayan blood will aid me in eliminating the foreign influences in our city. The merchants leave already. And tonight, when I have consolidated my power, the king will feel my wrath.”
“A Teotihuacano as king,” said Death Smoke. “It is an outrage we have borne these fifteen long years. Until the katun changed and our opportunity came.”
Sky Knife stepped toward the blood-covered altar. The two naked men came around to stand on each side of the altar, prepared, no doubt, to pin him down. A touch of outrage colored Sky Knife’s thoughts. There should be four attendants. The way Stone Jaguar had this set up, there were six people on the pyramid—assuming Bone Splinter had climbed the stairs with Death Smoke. Six people made no sense. There should be nine.
More and more, the warmth in his body spread into his mind, pushing against Death Smoke’s spell. Suddenly, the love and comfort of the chic-chac burst into his mind in one swift stroke that nearly sent Sky Knife to his knees. Even his disgust of the stench in the cavern dissipated. In place of the smell of blood, flowers and the fresh smell of the jungle after a brief rain crowded in his nose. The tingle of Stone Jaguar’s sorcery abruptly vanished. Sky Knife moaned in relief.
“What?” shouted Death Smoke. “What’s happening?”
Sky Knife whirled. Death Smoke had aged. He looked now as he always had—stooped, wrinkled, white-haired. Blood ran from his nose and ears.
“He broke your spell,” said Stone Jaguar. “Fool!”
Stone Jaguar began chanting, hands spread wide. The two naked men collapsed where they stood and lay, unmoving, on the stones.
Death Smoke straightened himself slowly and pointed a bony finger at Sky Knife. “You think to fight me, boy?” he said. “I was a sorcerer when your grandfather was an infant. You are nothing.”
Death Smoke closed his eyes and clapped his hands together. A ball of yellow flame appeared over his head with a loud boom. Sky Knife raised his own hands and called fire. An intense white flame appeared.
The yellow and white flames shot toward each other and combined in a dazzling conflagration. Sky Knife covered his eyes with his hands, momentarily blinded. Death Smoke’s laughter rose above the crackling and blazing of the flames.
“I will crush you!” shouted the older man.
Slowly, the whirling ball of flame approached Sky Knife. He pushed against it with his mind, in much the same way he’d sent the ball of flame away up the steps earlier. He could look at the flame now without it hurting his eyes. White and yellow tongues of fire danced around each other. Sky Knife stared at the white of the flames and pushed them away. In the back of his mind, he felt the returning tingle of Stone Jaguar’s sorcery, but he couldn’t take his attention from the flames. They pressed against him and he had to push with all the power of his concentration against them to keep them at bay.
Then the whirling slowed slightly and the flames edged toward Death Smoke. Heartened, Sky Knife pushed against them harder.
“No!” shouted Death Smoke as the flames touched him. Death Smoke dropped to his knees. Abruptly, the flames vanished. The air was clear for a moment. Then smoke rose from the pyramid. It swirled around slowly and coalesced into the form of a giant butterfly.
Sky Knife felt in himself a strand of sorcery that bound him to the smoke. It was his creature, to do his bidding. He pointed toward Death Smoke.
The butterfly wrapped its six smoke-legs around the old man and beat its blue-tinted wings. It rose over the pyramid, carrying Death Smoke with it. The old man screamed.
The butterfly rose to the ceiling and dissipated against the rocks. Death Smoke, released from the creature, fell, still screami
ng, to the stones below, just before the steps of the pyramid.
Sky Knife turned away, sickened at the thought he’d caused the old man’s death. His knees trembled in weariness and he panted heavily. Calling the flames and the butterfly creature had weakened him. But he still had another opponent. Sky Knife looked over to Stone Jaguar.
“So he saw his own death, after all,” said the priest. “Now it is your turn to die.” Stone Jaguar clapped his hands together.
Sky Knife didn’t wait to see what Stone Jaguar would do. He turned to Bone Splinter and rushed toward the warrior. Bone Splinter blinked, freshly released from Death Smoke’s spell and apparently confused. Sky Knife had no time to explain. He felt the cold claws of Stone Jaguar’s spell in his back.
Sky Knife ran headlong into Bone Splinter. He and the warrior tumbled off of the pyramid into the heap of quivering bodies below.
32
Sky Knife bit back a scream as he rolled down the pile. Intestines, blue-hued and rubbery, caught at his ankles and wrists. Sky Knife pulled away frantically, but his elbow slammed into another person’s empty chest. Black goo coated Sky Knife’s arm.
Sky Knife tried to push himself away from the bloody mess, but everywhere he turned, there were more lifeless limbs and gaping chest cavities. Stomachs, unaccountably limp and flat, hung out underneath gleaming white ribs. Sky Knife closed his eyes and pushed away with his feet, trying to stand.
Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up. Sky Knife screamed, afraid Stone Jaguar had called up a smoke butterfly that would carry him to the roof and drop him.
“Shut up,” said Bone Splinter. Sky Knife opened his eyes. Bone Splinter plopped Sky Knife down on the stones of the cavern floor.
Sky Knife turned to the warrior. Bone Splinter’s eyes were wide and he looked as though he might scream himself.
“We have to get out of here,” said Bone Splinter, his voice high with fright. “Itzamna! What a place.”
Sky Knife glanced up. Stone Jaguar stood on the summit of the pyramid, chanting another spell.
“Let’s go,” said Sky Knife. “Anywhere away from the pyramid.”
Sky Knife looked around, but here, against the pyramid’s side, was the only spot clear of bodies he could see. “We’ll have to climb over,” he said, biting back his disgust. Resolutely, he stepped on a pale, blood-streaked back and started climbing the pile. His hand slipped on waxy skin and rubbery, slimy organs. Sky Knife kept his eyes on the top of the pile and tried to ignore what his hands and feet touched.
The hair on Sky Knife’s neck tingled and the rotten fruit smell rolled over him, overpowering, for a moment, the stench of old blood and entrails. Sky Knife redoubled his efforts to put distance between himself and Stone Jaguar’s sorcery.
At the top of the pile, Sky Knife threw his legs over and slid down the other side. Several bodiless limbs and heads rolled down with him. One head stopped just in front of him, the windpipe stiff and white amidst the red ruins of the throat and skin. Nausea rose in Sky Knife’s gut, and this time, no spell held it back. He rolled onto his knees and heaved.
Behind him, he heard Bone Splinter doing the same thing. No doubt the warrior had seen death before, but never, ever anything like this. Sky Knife wished he’d never seen any of it.
Stone Jaguar screamed, “Kill them! Kill them!”
Sky Knife stood up and turned. Stone Jaguar stood in a globe of glowing green haze. Tendrils of green reached out toward the bodies in the cavern. As it touched them, they moved. One of them sat up and glanced toward Sky Knife. The dead man’s eyes had rolled back; only white showed to Sky Knife. The man rose to his feet.
“Itzamna,” whispered Sky Knife. “Come on, let’s go!”
Bone Splinter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded. Sky Knife turned toward the corridor that lead back to the room where the farmers had sat.
More and more bodies rolled themselves into sitting positions and stood. All focused their white stares on Sky Knife. Sky Knife’s gut cramped again, but he didn’t stop running. The dead, with their abdomens gaping open, trailing intestines behind them, came after them. Sky Knife tried to ignore them and concentrate on where he put his feet. He feared if he slipped now, he’d go down under a mass of bodies that would grab him and not let go.
A young woman directly in his path reached out for him. Sky Knife bit his lip and pushed her out of the way as he ran past. The young woman grabbed his wrist, but let go immediately.
Sky Knife stopped. Between him and his goal stood an army of the dead now. Bone Splinter drew up beside him. Sky Knife glanced behind them. Thirty or forty more of the dead shambled blindly along, cutting off any route back toward the pyramid.
A terrible weariness crept over Sky Knife. The smoke creature and the ball of flame had taken a lot of energy from him. He thought about calling more fire, but knew he didn’t have the power.
“We can’t fight them all,” said Bone Splinter.
Sky Knife kept his eyes on the dead behind them—they were closer. The young woman who had grabbed him before slowly climbed back to her feet and approached.
Bone Splinter raised his knife, then lowered it slowly. “She’s already dead,” he shouted. “What can we do?”
Sky Knife and Bone Splinter backed away from the woman. Sky Knife stopped. They would only end up backing into the rest of the dead guarding the entrance to the cavern.
The young woman paused and Sky Knife took a good look at her. Her hair was matted with dried blood and her skin slack all over her body, especially her face, making it look too large for her. Her hands were callused, her knuckles gnarled from hard work. Yet her nose was perfectly straight, her chin pointed delicately, her breasts full and round. She had been pretty in life, and young. Anger flooded Sky Knife’s mind. Who was Stone Jaguar that he could take the gift of life from such people? Not just one, not just for the gods. But hundreds, and all for his own glory.
Sky Knife stepped forward and pushed the woman again, but she was too quick for him. She grabbed his wrists. Her grip was strong. Sky Knife groaned as her hold became painful. She might even be strong enough to break his wrists.
The woman let go and stumbled back. Sky Knife jumped back toward Bone Splinter, holding his bruised wrists close to his chest.
“What happened?” asked Bone Splinter.
“I don’t know.”
The woman stumbled backwards a few feet and sank to her knees. Softly, she tumbled over onto the floor of the cavern and lay still and dead once more.
Understanding crept into Sky Knife’s thoughts. He reached for the gourd of tobacco juice. “It’s the juice,” he said. “The dead can’t stay near it.”
He unstoppered the gourd. Bone Splinter held out his hands. Sky Knife poured a few drops into the warrior’s hands, then reapplied the juice to his knees and elbows. He let a drop fall to the floor. It struck the pale gray hand of an old man. The juice hissed where it touched the dead flesh and smoked. The hand jerked rapidly several times before being still again.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. He walked forward, sprinkling a few drops on the corpses as they passed. The dead drew back from their path.
There were still the dead by the entrance. Sky Knife walked toward them and poured some juice into his hand. When he got close, he threw it onto the nearest corpse. The man withered and plopped to the ground immediately.
Sky Knife ran for the entrance, Bone Splinter on his heels. He sprinkled more juice as he ran, and the dead got out of his way. Finally, Sky Knife and Bone Splinter stood in the relative shelter of the narrow corridor. Sky Knife didn’t stop until he reached the round room where they had encountered Death Smoke.
Sky Knife’s knees would no longer hold him. He slumped to the floor. Bone Splinter did the same.
“Itzamna,” the warrior whispered over and over.
Sky Knife clasped his hands to his shoulders. He shook so badly, he felt he’d shake his bones right out of his body. The bloody
sights of the cavern seemed to hover in front of him whenever he closed his eyes.
Slowly, the trembling faded. Sky Knife glanced back down the corridor. Only a faint tingle of sorcery came to him and he heard nothing but the beating of his own heart.
“Stone Jaguar must be planning something new,” said Sky Knife. His teeth chattered together in shock and fear. “We’d better get out while we can.”
“We have to stop him,” Bone Splinter said. “We have to defeat this evil.”
“How?” asked Sky Knife. He looked the warrior in the eyes. The warrior was determined, but panic lurked in his eyes, too. “He has the power from hundreds of sacrifices to aid him.”
“What do you mean?”
Sky Knife took a deep breath to calm himself. “There’s always a great release of power after a sacrifice. Usually, the priest offers it to the gods. You’ve seen that.”
“The dancing lights?”
“Yes. But Stone Jaguar is taking all of that inside himself. He’s adding to his own power by killing others.”
“Whatever for?”
“I’m not sure exactly how he plans to do it,” said Sky Knife, “but he intends to depose the king.”
Bone Splinter’s face curled in a snarl and all trace of fear left it. “Then we must stop him before he harms the king. We have to go back to the cavern.”
Sky Knife tried to push himself to his feet, but weariness overtook him and he dropped back to the floor. “I don’t think I can walk,” he said. “Defeating Death Smoke exhausted me.”
“Then I’ll carry you.”
Sky Knife closed his eyes, humiliated. A familiar giggle startled him. Sky Knife opened his eyes and looked around.
Cizin stood in the corridor leading to the cavern.
“Eat your bones!” the specter cried.
“Bones bones bones!” gibbered voices from the walls.
Sky Knife Page 22