“Itzamna,” he whispered. “Bless this altar and accept the sacrifice I am about to give you.” Sky Knife nearly choked on his prayer and the pressure in his chest grew. No wonder his mother had been told to give him a bad luck name—what worse luck could a man have than to sacrifice a friend?
Sky Knife picked up the blade and scratched his wrist. A thin trickle of blood ran down his wrist and dripped onto the stone. Sky Knife waved the blade over the blood. “With blood I change this from stone to altar, from earthly to divine purpose. Take my blood and hold it in trust, that I may always be true to you, Lord of All.”
Smoke rose from the blood, deep blue in color. It glowed slightly, then dissipated. The cigars burst into flames and burned brightly blue for a moment. The flames died, leaving a small pile of glowing ash.
The gods approved. Sky Knife trembled and couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Where is the sacrifice?” he asked as firmly as he could. Before the actual sacrifice, it was imperative to find a volunteer. Bone Splinter had already said he was willing, but Sky Knife wanted to conform to all the rituals he remembered. This had to go just right. Everything had to be perfect.
“I am here,” said Bone Splinter. “I come freely to be the sacrifice for my god, my king, and my city.”
“Then come forward.” Sky Knife turned and held the Hand of God out in front of him.
Bone Splinter stepped into the circle of the tattoo’s glow. He was naked—even his ear spools were gone. Water dripped off his skin and his wet hair fell over his ears and into his face. The warrior knelt in front of Sky Knife.
Sky Knife passed the Hand of God over Bone Splinter’s head four times. “The time of sacrifice is set.”
“When is the time?” asked Bone Splinter as ritual demanded.
“The time … the time is now,” whispered Sky Knife, his voice deserting him. He fought the tears, but they ran down his face again.
Bone Splinter looked up and grabbed Sky Knife’s wrist and that was definitely not part of the ritual. Sky Knife gasped in surprise and glanced into Bone Splinter’s calm eyes.
“Be easy, my friend,” said Bone Splinter. “I am the sacrifice come freely.”
Sky Knife bit his lip and nodded. “Then stand.”
Bone Splinter obeyed. Sky Knife stepped aside and Bone Splinter walked to the altar and laid himself upon it.
Sky Knife knelt before the altar. “Red Jaguar of the East, hear my prayer. Black Jaguar of the West, hear my prayer. White Jaguar of the North, hear my prayer. Yellow Jaguar of the South, hear my prayer.”
A slight breeze caressed his face carrying the sweet smell of flowers. Sky Knife frowned. The temple glow odor had never smelled of flowers before. Perhaps it was a good sign. Sky Knife prayed it was.
“Lord of All, I beg you for help,” prayed Sky Knife. “I must have the strength to defeat Stone Jaguar. Please, give me the power I need to protect Storm Cloud and Tikal. Stone Jaguar must die and the nagual must be returned to the Totilme’iletik. All bad luck must be driven away so that Tikal will prosper in the new katun. Be my guide and my strength, Itzamna Kauil, friend of man and provider in times of need.”
Sky Knife stood on shaky legs. Bone Splinter lay quiet and calm on the altar, eyes closed. He breathed evenly and slowly.
Sky Knife bit his lip. This was it. There were no more prayers to make, no more incantations, no more invocations—just the p’a chi itself. The time of sacrifice. Sky Knife held the Hand of God above Bone Splinter. It glowed, dimly at first, but then more and more brightly until it lit the entire cavern.
Sky Knife trembled. He couldn’t do it. He lowered the knife a few inches. Bone Splinter opened his eyes.
“Do not fail me, Sky Knife,” he said. “You must do this.” Bone Splinter reached out and grabbed Sky Knife’s wrist, stopped its descent. Sky Knife met the other man’s eyes. This was the time when every sacrifice showed fear—when the knife was held above their hearts. If even a glint of fear showed in Bone Splinter’s face, Sky Knife knew he wouldn’t be able to go any further.
But there was none. Bone Splinter’s face was calm, even under the knife. He released Sky Knife’s wrist and settled himself back down on the altar. Awe colored Sky Knife’s thoughts and soothed his heart. Bone Splinter was not afraid. He was a true sacrifice. Perfect.
Sky Knife raised the knife again, said a silent prayer to Itzamna for courage, and brought the blade down into Bone Splinter’s stomach. The warrior’s flesh parted easily before the glowing blade.
The warrior grunted but did not scream. His bright, bright blood splattered over him, over Sky Knife, over the cavern wall. It flowed down his sides and down the altar. It ran onto Sky Knife’s feet, warm and slick.
Sky Knife withdrew the knife and shoved it into his left hand. With his right, he put his fingers into the gash in Bone Splinter’s gut.
Bone Splinter’s body was warm, his blood slippery. Sky Knife pushed his hand completely in, not sure exactly where in the chest he would find Bone Splinter’s heart. His hand encountered a smooth, muscular barrier. Sky Knife gritted his teeth and shoved his hand through.
Bone Splinter grunted again, but still he did not scream. Sky Knife glanced at the warrior’s face. It was contorted in pain, but it remained without fear.
Past the barrier, Sky Knife felt the warrior’s strong heartbeat near his hand. He reached in farther and grabbed the slippery, pulsing organ, wondering how strongly it was rooted in the chest.
Sky Knife’s hand was not large enough to encircle the heart, but it didn’t seem to matter. The heart stuck to his hand as if bound to it. Sky Knife drew the heart toward him.
Bone Splinter screamed “Itzamna!” as the heart came loose from his chest. Sky Knife yanked the heart the rest of the way out and the other man went limp on the altar. His face went slack, losing all trace of his suffering.
Sky Knife held the beating heart in front of him over Bone Splinter’s body. It glowed and dazzling flakes of light rained down from the ceiling. Others leapt from the floor and walls. They swirled around Sky Knife, tickling and teasing, before converging on the heart and pouring into it.
The heart swelled with the light and burst into a million small blue sparkling motes. Some of the blue sparkles fell onto Sky Knife, bathing him with warmth and a deep, soul-satisfying comfort. And with love, too. Sky Knife laughed with joy.
More of the sparkles fell on him. Sky Knife closed his eyes at the strength that flowed into him. Power flowed through his muscles, his veins, into his heart and mind.
In his mind, he saw himself flowing upwards, through the stone of the cave, to float in the air above the northern acropolis. He looked down at himself. To his own eyes, he looked solid. He reached down to touch his leg and his hand passed through it as though he were a cloud, or a streak of mist. Sky Knife knew he should be afraid, but he felt only the joy that Bone Splinter had bequeathed him.
Sky Knife glanced around for Stone Jaguar. The night was almost gone. The first gray streaks of pre-dawn light lay littered on the eastern horizon. Below, in the plaza, the love-gift vendor had just settled into her coveted spot.
Something else was to the east besides false dawn. A black cloud in jaguar shape hovered over the palace. In its forepaw it clutched something small and human-shaped.
Storm Cloud.
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“Stop!” shouted Sky Knife.
The black jaguar whirled. It hissed at Sky Knife. “You think to stop me? You are nothing.”
The words hit Sky Knife and his gut quivered in fear. But Bone Splinter’s love held him up. Sky Knife wrapped it around him like a cloak. “No,” he said. “I have the strength of a perfect sacrifice. There is no power on earth or in any of the heavens or in any of the underworlds as great as that.”
The cloud jaguar shrugged, dismissing him. “No power can equal me. I am Ah nacom of Tikal—I alone have the right to perform the p’a chi and wear the cloak you have stol
en.” The jaguar bared its fangs to Sky Knife.
“Leave the king alone,” commanded Sky Knife. “I will not let you harm him.”
“You can’t do anything about the king now,” said Stone Jaguar. The struggling figure in the jaguar’s grip disappeared. Sky Knife leaped forward, thinking Stone Jaguar had dropped the king, but no sign of Storm Cloud remained.
“Where is he?” demanded Sky Knife. “Where is the king?”
The jaguar cloud shimmered slightly, the blackness bleeding out of it. In the span of only a few heartbeats, it had become merely a low-lying cloud, white and fluffy. It faded in the early morning air.
“Stone Jaguar!”
Monkeys began their ear-splitting daily ritual to greet the dawn. Their screeching set off the birds of the jungle. The noise normally meant stability and normality to Sky Knife, but today, the sounds seemed desperate, panicked.
Sky Knife floated to the palace. Courtiers, hair loose around their shoulders, skirts askew, ran around shouting. Sky Knife rose higher above the city. Around Tikal, the jungle stretched green and thick, broken only by the small cleared areas of the farmers’ milpas. The city itself, its temples and plazas, the palace and the House of the Warriors, seemed tiny and insignificant. Sky Knife felt ashamed. He had always thought of the buildings of his city as impressive. But next to the jungle, they were nothing. Sky Knife wondered why the gods would ever smile upon a city that was so small when viewed from the skies.
The sky was cloudless. “Stone Jaguar!” shouted Sky Knife. “Where is the king?”
The squawking of the jungle animals was his only answer. Sky Knife descended until he was just above the roofs of the city’s buildings. He flew over the plaza, past the Temple of Ix Chel. Kan Flower and several other warriors stood outside.
Where would Stone Jaguar take the king? Sky Knife skimmed over the jungle canopy, searching for any sign. In the east, the grayness grew brighter.
Sky Knife stopped his flight. Stone Jaguar believed himself to be the true priest of Itzamna. He believed he acted for the gods. He would want to make a sacrifice of the king. Not a p’a chi, not a willing sacrifice, but the sacrifice of an enemy. Stone Jaguar would want everything to be just right.
An enemy could be sacrificed in any number of ways, usually with a knife in the chest or a slit throat. But Stone Jaguar had used his blade most recently on farmers. He would need to resanctify it for more holy use if he wanted to use it to kill the king. Sky Knife doubted Stone Jaguar wanted to take the time that would require.
The cardinal directions were important, too, of course. Stone Jaguar would want to do this somewhere to the east, the most prestigious direction; or north, where the rain gods lived.
Water—water was another way to make sacrifice. It could symbolize the rain gods no matter in which direction it lay.
The cenote! Sky Knife flew over the treetops toward the east. The hidden cenote would be perfect. Not only did it have water to honor the rain gods, it was in the east to honor Itzamna.
Sky Knife broke through the canopy and hovered over the cenote. The black cloud jaguar hovered there, too, Storm Cloud still in its grip.
“It didn’t take you long to find me.” To Sky Knife, Stone Jaguar sounded disappointed. “Well, now that you’re here, save the king, priest,” hissed the jaguar. It stretched out its paw and dropped Storm Cloud. The small figure of the king plummeted toward the water.
“No!” screamed Sky Knife. He dove for the king and reached him just before Storm Cloud hit the water. But the king passed through Sky Knife’s insubstantial body and struck the blue water of the cenote.
Sky Knife followed the king into the water and wrapped his arms around the other man. But his arms continued to pass through Storm Cloud’s flesh.
Panic nibbled at Sky Knife’s thoughts. If he could not drag the king out of the water, Storm Cloud would drown, and Sky Knife would have failed Bone Splinter’s trust.
Storm Cloud struggled, but bonds of blue light held his wrists behind his back and strapped his ankles together. Sky Knife grabbed at the sorcerous bonds. They stung his hands, but he could hold onto them. He flew upwards toward the air, toward life, dragging the king behind him.
He was not strong enough to pull the king into the air with him, but he pressed down with his hands and felt the bonds weaken. Sky Knife reached out with the power of Bone Splinter’s love and snapped the sorcery that bound the king.
Storm Cloud’s head broke the surface and he took a deep breath of air. Sky Knife hovered over him, tremendously relieved.
A boulder struck the water near Storm Cloud’s head. The splash sent the man under again, but he bobbed up after a moment. Sky Knife glanced up. The cloud jaguar was gone. In its place hovered Stone Jaguar himself, his arms spread wide.
“I will crush you both!” Stone Jaguar shook a fist toward Sky Knife. Suddenly, Sky Knife felt his body returning to him. He fell several feet into the cool water and came up, choking. The feeling of weight and a solid body seemed cumbersome to him now.
Another rock smashed into the water. Sky Knife tread water and closed his mouth against the spray. The king was not so lucky. Sky Knife heard the other man choking on a mouthful of water.
Stone Jaguar’s plan was clear—he would pull down the walls of the cenote and crush Sky Knife and the king under them. Anger warmed Sky Knife’s blood and power throbbed in his bones. He reached out with the power, down to the bottom of the cenote, and pulled it toward him.
The water became choppy and a deep rumble filled the air. Stone Jaguar threw more stones, but Sky Knife pushed them away with the strength that flowed through him. He concentrated on the rocks beneath them, pulling them closer and closer.…
The bottom came up to meet Sky Knife and the king, pushing them out of the water, granting them a small island in the midst of the pool. Storm Cloud lay on the wet stones, panting and coughing, but otherwise all right.
Sky Knife threw back his head and screamed out to the man he had held so high in respect and awe. “Itzamna sees the evil you do!” he cried. “He has given me the power to defeat you.”
“Never!” shouted Stone Jaguar, though his voice held a note of doubt it had not before.
“You broke all your vows,” said Sky Knife. “You are no longer a priest.”
“Who are you to say that?” said Stone Jaguar. “You are just an ignorant boy.”
Sky Knife reached into the calm, deep quiet in the center of his soul where Bone Splinter’s power waited. Sky Knife tapped the power and let more flow through his veins. He rose from the water, leaving the king behind on the island. He floated in the air just before Stone Jaguar.
“Am I?” asked Sky Knife. “You showed me the way, and Bone Splinter gave me the power of a perfect sacrifice.”
“That idiot? He was never the perfect anything,” said Stone Jaguar. “Just a strong hand for the king to use.”
Anger threatened to flood over Sky Knife, but he held it in check. “He is my friend,” he said. “He died for Itzamna, and for the king. And for me.”
Sky Knife gathered power in his mind and shoved the floating figure of Stone Jaguar into the wall of the cenote. Stone Jaguar screamed and clapped his hands together. A jaguar of fire burst into life in front of Sky Knife and leaped at him, fiery claws extended.
Sky Knife pushed against the jaguar but it was too strong for him. The flames of its paws came closer to his throat. Sky Knife reached down and pulled the water of the cenote to him and encircled the jaguar with it.
The jaguar dissolved in a puff of smoke and ash. The water, released from Sky Knife’s control, rained back down to the cenote.
Stone Jaguar rushed toward Sky Knife and locked his hands around the younger man’s throat. Pain lanced through Sky Knife’s mind. Stone Jaguar’s strong fingers dug into his flesh, closing off his throat.
Fear bubbled through Sky Knife, fear that threatened to become panic. But deep inside his heart was a wellspring of calm. Not the soul-crushing calm of
Death Smoke’s spell, but a gentle tranquility full of love and trust. Sky Knife drove his mind into the calm and made it a part of himself. The legacy of Bone Splinter eased into every nerve, every pore.
Sky Knife pushed his awareness of his pain aside and opened his mind to the other man, encircling Stone Jaguar with the power Bone Splinter had provided him. Stone Jaguar screamed and dropped his hold on Sky Knife. Frantically, Stone Jaguar jerked his limbs, trying to escape, but Sky Knife’s power was everywhere the other man turned.
The power continued to pour through him, so that Sky Knife couldn’t tell if he held it or it held him. But it didn’t matter. They were part of each other.
Now that he had accepted the power into himself, Sky Knife saw that Stone Jaguar sat in the center of a sorcerous net like some obscene spider. One strand of the net branched outwards toward Tikal, toward the nagual. Sky Knife reached out and pulled the strand free.
Stone Jaguar screamed. Sky Knife felt Stone Jaguar’s spell dissolve in his hands. The nagual faded with the spell, returned to their proper place in the corral of the Totilme’iletik.
Sky Knife yanked another strand from Stone Jaguar. On the other end, he sensed the smell of rot and putrefaction. Cizin. So he had not managed to banish the death god entirely. With a flick of his mind, Sky Knife sent Cizin spinning through the nebulous wall that surrounded the underworlds. The death god screamed as the spell was broken and he was banished from the waking world of men once again.
Other strands came loose from Stone Jaguar now of their own volition. Golden, ropy cords dangled briefly in midair, then dissolved into nothing. Stone Jaguar stopped screaming. He hung limp and unresisting in the center of Sky Knife’s power.
“Your power is broken,” said Sky Knife. “You are rejected by the gods.”
“Think again,” said the other man. He reached out to Sky Knife, obsidian blade in his hands. He moved so quickly, Sky Knife reacted without thinking. With his own blade still in his left hand, he stabbed the other man in the neck.
Sky Knife Page 24