Ninth Lord of the Night

by Diana L. Driver

  “Hey,” Bruce said, looking worried. He tried to push Zack away, but Zack only tightened his grip. “What’s with you? Surfer dude can’t take a joke?”

  “Some joke.” Zack spat. He pulled back his right arm, but before he could connect his fist with Bruce’s face, Kyle grabbed his wrist. “Kyle, he deserves this! Let me go!”

  “Back off!” Kyle ordered. “Zack, leave him alone. You’re out of line! I’m telling you, let go of him.”

  Zack released the shirt, giving Bruce a shove in the process and jerked his wrist free from Kyle’s grip.

  “You leave Maria alone,” he warned Bruce. “And you stay away from me. My brother saved your butt this time. Next time you won’t be so damned lucky.”

  “Yeah, you’re real tough, aren’t you,” Bruce sneered. “But, you don’t scare me. Surfer dude.”

  “C’mon, guys,” Josh urged. “Cut it out.”

  “Bruce, Samantha,” Maria said, not shaking now. “It isn’t wise to provoke the demons of Xibalba.” She spread her arms wide to encompass the whole plaza. “Look around you. Do you really think the past in Tikal is dead and gone? Perhaps it is only sleeping. Look at the Xux ek, the wasp star. See how it shines? The Maya regulated not only their wars but also their sacrifices by the appearance of Xux ek”

  “Venus,” Linda explained. Zack glanced up at the brilliant planet, so bright it looked like the headlight of a low flying commercial airliner.

  “Give me a break,” Bruce groaned. “Don’t tell me you believe in that shit.”

  “Don’t laugh at the Maya,” Maria warned, her eyes full of fire. “Or at their ways. Remember the story of the Ninth Lord of the Night?”

  Linda shook her head. “I haven’t heard that one,” she said. “Tell us.”

  “Oh, great,” Bruce complained. “Just what we need.”

  “Shut up, Bruce,” Linda said. “Come on Maria.”

  “No don’t,” Samantha pleaded, once again grabbing Kyle’s arm and snuggling close. She stared around at the plaza as if expecting a demon to appear any minute.

  “Sam, be quiet. Maria, please?” Linda asked. “C’mon everybody sit down. Maria can tell the story as sort of payback for the cheap joke you guys pulled.”

  “I’d rather hear about the ritual bloodletting,” Sam giggled. “Like with the stingray spines.”

  “Stingray spines?” Zack asked.

  “It’s a guy thing,” Linda whispered. “Ask one of the guys about it later.”

  “Tell us the story, Maria,” Josh urged, sitting down beside Linda.

  Zack sat on the other side of Linda, while Kyle, Samantha, and Bruce climbed up a few steps and settled behind them.

  Maria sat cross-legged on the ground, facing them. She slipped her long black hair loose from her ponytail holder and shook her head. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, gleaming blue-black in the moonlight.

  “My mother is Maya,” Maria began, her voice strong and clear. “She comes from a small village not too far from Chichicastenango. Her father was a chimán. This story was told to me by my mother as a warning not to laugh at beliefs and traditions you don’t understand.”

  As if on cue, a cloud drifted across the face of the moon and darkness settled in around them. The jungle grew deathly quiet as the howler monkeys ceased their screaming. Maria paused as the cloud passed overhead. Not until the plaza was once again bathed in moonlight and the jungle noises had resumed, did she begin her story.

  ###

  “Along the Mendez Causeway,” Maria said, “between the Temple of Inscriptions and the Southern Acropolis, is a group of structures simply called the Venus Palaces. The first archaeologist commissioned to excavate these palaces was an arrogant and conceited Norwegian who wore around his neck a gold medallion engraved with a hammer, the symbol of Thor, Norwegian god of thunder. Often this vain man would hold the medallion in the sunlight and marvel at the brilliance that only he possessed.

  “This archaeologist had studied the ancient Maya for years, and yet because the Maya never had any use for gold or other precious metals, he thought they were a stupid people. He never troubled to really learn about Mayan ways or customs.

  “Before shovel was put to dirt, the Norwegian was warned by his workmen that he must humbly request permission to dig from Ix Cheel, the mother goddess who is the earth. However, this closed-minded man ridiculed the warning.

  “The Mayan workmen told him that they would not dig unless the earth was honored, otherwise all would face the wrath of the Nine Lords of the Night. In anger, the archaeologist grabbed a shovel and plunged it violently into the ground. The horrified workmen ran off and the archaeologist was left alone in the jungle.

  “The archaeologist cursed the workers and he cursed the Mayan gods. For the rest of the day he continued digging, stopping only after the sun had set and all daylight was gone.

  “During the first hour of the night, after the Norwegian had finished eating and was resting by his fire, a mosquito buzzed in his ear, saying, ‘I have a message from the First Lord of the Night. He commands you to gather copal incense and burn it so that its essence may fill the air.’

  “The archaeologist slapped the mosquito and killed it.

  “During the second hour of the night, a turtle crawled up to the archaeologist and said, ‘I have been sent from the Second Lord of the Night. You are commanded to gather six candles made of beeswax. You are to burn one candle for each of the four directions, burn one candle for mother earth, and light one candle for man.’

  “In anger, the archaeologist turned the turtle on its back and slit open its soft underside.

  “The Third Lord of the Night sent a message during the third hour, the Fourth Lord sent a message during the fourth hour, and on and on throughout the night. Each messenger was slain by the archaeologist. Each warning went unheeded. Finally, it was the ninth hour of the night and this time the Great Lord of Night himself appeared to the Norwegian as a great jaguar.

  “ ‘Each of my lords has sent you a message,’ the Great Jaguar said. ‘Each message was disregarded, each messenger murdered. You are either very brave or very foolish.’

  “I am Man,’ the archaeologist boasted. ‘What right do you or the other beasts of the earth have to give me orders? All the beasts of heaven and earth are under my authority. You are animals to be used as I see fit.’

  “This angered the jaguar, for this insolent human didn’t even recognize him as a god. He said to the archaeologist, ‘Because you think you are so brave and superior, I challenge you to a game of skill in the ball court.’

  “Why should I bother?’ the archaeologist asked. ‘When I could simply kill you right here?’

  “Then the Great Jaguar quoted from the Book of Counsel, ‘Don’t you understand that the game is a sign of freedom? Of death? Of fate? It governs the sentences of the judges. The only ones daring enough to play are dead.’”

  Maria paused. Zack glanced up as a shooting star slashed across the sky. He looked back at Samantha. She shifted uneasily and looked away. Fireflies surrounded them and the jungle noises warned of the multitude of life concealed in the shadowy darkness.

  Maria continued, “‘I’ll play your game,’ the archaeologist bragged to the jaguar. ‘And, I’ll beat you at it.’

  “The jaguar led the man to the ball court and showed him how to play the game. He showed the archaeologist how to hit the hard leather ball with his hips, his thighs, and his elbows. He showed him how to score. But, the Great Jaguar didn’t tell him all the rules for winning. The Great Jaguar didn’t tell him that seven is the number for creatures of the earth, thirteen is the number for creatures of the heavens, and nine is the number for creatures of the underworld.

  “The archaeologist quickly learned the feel of the game. It wasn’t long before he had scored five while the jaguar scored six. The archaeologist didn’t notice that when the jaguar reached the score of seven he discontinued his effort. But, the man, because he didn’t know the ways of the May
a, was too proud of his achievements. He scored again and reached the final score of nine. Lightning flashed across the midnight sky and thunder roared throughout the jungle as the lords of Xibalba were summoned to carry him down into the mouth of the underworld.

  “The next morning when the Mayan workmen showed up at the palaces the archaeologist was nowhere to be found. After searching for weeks, they finally gave him up as lost.

  “A new archaeologist was brought in to supervise the dig and this archaeologist didn’t scoff and ignore the ways of the Maya, but honored the earth and all living creatures that walked upon it. It took years to clear the vines and jungle scrub completely from the Venus Palace. When that was done, a plaza was discovered that could be entered only by passing through the mouth of a huge snarling mask.

  “In this plaza were found some of the most blood curdling and horrible paintings ever discovered. It was determined that the mask was the entrance to the underworld of Xibalba. The paintings were of demons and their sacrificed victims.

  “One painting showed a kneeling captive, his face contorted in fear and terror. The captive watched over his shoulder in horror as a demon swung an axe for his decapitation. What was deemed unusual about this painting was that the captive had light colored hair and blue eyes. And around his neck, painted in great detail so there could be no mistake, hung a gold medallion with the symbol of Thor, the Norwegian god of thunder.”

  Once more Zack was aware of the sounds of the jungle. No one spoke as they left the temple steps and joined Maria on the plaza floor.

  “I still would have preferred the ritual bloodletting,” Sam said, her voice too loud and filled with false bravado. “So much more exciting, don’t you think so Bruce?”

  “Not hardly,” he answered.

  With that, the group broke up and they slowly walked through the Plaza of the Seven Temples and onto a jungle path. Linda and Maria walked in front followed by Kyle, Sam, and Bruce. Josh and Zack brought up the rear.

  “What was Sam talking about?” Zack asked Josh. “Ritual bloodletting?”

  Josh groaned, “Well, the Maya kings had this ceremony where they pierced themselves with stingray spines and let the blood drip on pieces of paper.”

  “So? What’s any weirder about that than the other things they did?”

  “They pierced their own foreskin.”

  “Enough already, I’m sorry I asked,” Zack said.

  “I’m sorry Sam brought it up,” Josh said. “She only does things like that to make everyone uncomfortable.”

  “Why does she want to do that?”

  “Who knows?” he said. “That’s just Samantha.”

  The trail narrowed and soon they were walking single file. During the hour it took them to reach the main house Zack forgot all about Sam and thought of Maria instead. He felt protective of her and any previous animosity he’d felt towards her had dissipated. Maybe from now on things would be different. It would be nice to have a friend here in Tikal. Someone he could talk to. She wasn’t really as tough as she made herself out to be. He also understood why she had been so passionate about his vision and so petrified by Bruce’s little joke. Visions and myths were a very real part of Maria’s everyday lifestyle.

  Chapter Ten

  Zack switched on his small lamp. Immediately insects attached themselves to the window screen although the forty-watt bulb didn’t do much to erase the gloom. The main house was dark, the only light coming from the yellow globe outside the back door. The howler monkeys were quiet now, but every now and then he’d hear squeaks and rustling in the foliage.

  The tarantula was no longer behind the louvered door. The dim bathroom light failed to reach into the corners and Zack scrutinized the shadows to see if any had a dark spot. He went on a tarantula search and found the giant spider on the underside of the small table. It still looked dead, but it had looked dead before and obviously it wasn’t. Maybe it was sick. He’d leave it alone for now and get rid of it in the morning.

  He turned off the lamp and undressed, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. Using his flashlight he went over to the bed and crawled between the damp and clammy sheets. He turned off the flashlight, but still gripped it tightly in his hand. If something crawled on him in the middle of the night he intended to bash in its fuzzy head. He laid there in the dark, expecting to be attacked any minute and wishing he’d taken the initiative to dispose of the spider. But, he couldn’t make himself get out of bed and do it now. Every few minutes he’d turn on the flashlight and shine the light around the room, but as far as he could tell the spider seemed to be staying in its new location.

  Loud squawking woke him the next morning. He rolled over on his stomach and looked out the window. Two macaws were fighting on a branch not two feet away from the head of his bed, screeching and flapping their wings while attacking each other’s feet. They were a spectacular sight with their rounded beaks and magnificent blue and yellow plumage. Suddenly one of the birds lost its grip on the branch. Beating its wings in a panic, it slipped upside down while its opponent continued the relentless assault. The hapless parrot released the branch, beat the air wildly to right itself, and then resettled on the limb where the fussing began all over again.

  “Jeez,” Zack complained, “aren’t there enough trees in this place for both of you? Do you guys have to fight in the one right outside my room?”

  The flashlight had fallen on the floor. He got out of bed and picked it up. He reached for his jeans and cringed at the hairy leg sticking out from one of the folds. Shuddering, he backed away and gave it a wide berth as he took fresh clothes out of his suitcase. After breakfast he’d get rid of the tarantula for sure.

  The grounds and main house were deserted except for Clifton and Kyle in the kitchen. Clifton was reading the back page of the Guatemalan newspaper, Prensa Libre. Kyle was eating breakfast.

  At least today his uncle was dressed like a regular person in tan slacks and a red cotton shirt. He’d even exchanged his expensive watch for one with a plain leather band.

  Clifton folded up the newspaper and moved it aside. “Morning,” he said. “Mrs. Sanchez left you some breakfast on the stove. Help yourself. When you’re finished be sure to wash up.”

  Zack’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the bacon, eggs, and toast. He took a plate from the cupboard, piled it high with food and filled a cup with coffee.

  “You boys were out late last night,” Clifton said as Zack set his plate and cup on the table. Kyle shifted uncomfortably.

  “Maria and Linda took us out to the ruins,” Zack said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He glanced at Kyle who seemed way too interested in his scrambled eggs. “Maria wanted me to see the Great Plaza in the moonlight. I know we missed supper, but I didn’t think we were that late.” His mood brightened considerably at the memory of holding Maria in his arms. He shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth when the picture on the front page of the newspaper grabbed his attention. It was of the murdered Canadian.

  “Who’s this guy?” he mumbled.

  “An artifacts smuggler,” Clifton answered. “He was murdered night before last. As a matter of fact, it happened not too far from our hotel.”

  Zack forced his eyes away from the photo and concentrated on choking down his breakfast. Clifton finished his coffee. He got up, rinsed out his cup, and then tossed a set of car keys on the table in front of Kyle.

  “Dr. Collins wants you guys to help unload wooden packing crates this morning at the site,” he said. “Take the red pickup. I’ll ride out in one of the jeeps with Dusty. You know how to get there?”

  Kyle shook his head. “We took a footpath to the Great Plaza yesterday.”

  “Take the road out front. After about five miles it’ll dead end at the site.”

  “Sure,” Kyle nodded. “We’ll be out as soon as we’re done here.”

  “By the way,” Clifton grinned as he left the room. “Sam’s already there.”

  Kyle turned a dark shade of red. />
  “What was that all about?” Zack asked. “You have something going with Sam that I don’t know about?”

  “Mind your own business,” Kyle answered, taking his plate to the sink. “Just eat.”

  Kyle actually looked embarrassed. That was a switch. While Kyle washed his plate, Zack reached out and turned over the newspaper.

  The red truck was a four-door extended cab pick-up. Kyle drove the truck with skill avoiding as many of the ruts and holes as he could. After a couple of miles they passed a sign on the right that pointed down a path to the Temple of Inscriptions. Coming towards them was the battered old army jeep they’d seen parked by the house when they’d arrived. Kyle pulled over to the side of the road and stopped to give the jeep room to pass.

  Zack recognized the Canadian’s murderer instantly and the recognition seemed mutual. So, he hadn’t been mistaken yesterday at the airport in Flores. Zack turned and watched as the jeep drove away.

  Kyle was studying Zack’s face. “You know that guy?” he asked.

  “Not me,” Zack answered.

  Kyle turned the wheel and pulled back on the road. “Yeah? From the looks you guys were giving each other it sure seemed like you’d met before.”

  Zack gazed out the window. The Canadian had said that the mustached man already had the stuff found in Santa Elena, which couldn’t be too far, because that’s where the archaeologists made their phone calls and purchased their supplies. Still, what was the guy doing out here? Looking for the drawing? Didn’t matter. How could he know it was at the bottom of Zack’s suitcase? All the killer could know for sure was that Zack had witnessed part of the argument, but not the actual stabbing. Unless the guy was smart, realizing Zack would leave the store and go back the way he’d come, past the alley. That thought made Zack’s insides turned to jelly.

  The road ended at a cleared tract of land bordered by a row of gray-green canvass tents. Samantha came flying out of one of the tents, jumped into Kyle’s arms and planted a noisy kiss on his mouth. She released him, batted her thick lashes, and smiled. “It’s about time you got here. So, how’d you sleep last night?”