The God in the Clear Rock

by Lucian Randolph

• • • • •

  “Hurry… Follow me.”

  The larger boy slipped around the narrow ledge like his bare feet were glued to the stone. Behind him, the other young boy matched him step for step. As they moved farther from where they climbed up, the mound of stones they used as a ramp began to angle down, leaving them nearly twenty feet above the floor. They scurried along the small one foot wide ledge protruding from the solid wall in darkness, as the light began to fall off quickly from the torches they left near the top of the rock pile behind them.

  Méké and Quatze knew that what they were doing was forbidden. But they were both young boys, and they were also cousins. Méké was thirteen and had been a Priest-in-training for over two years. Quatze was only eleven, but the two boys had grown up together in the mining village near the red rock mountains, six days from here. Their fathers were brothers who worked together extracting iron from the deep mines. All of the miners and their families were well cared for and happy to do the holy work of taking the red rock from the earth. The boys had played together, chasing each other and climbing through the mountains and jungles, since they both were able to walk. When Quatze arrived as a newly initiated Priest-in-training, it didn’t take long for the boys to begin secret outings together, just like they would do when they lived back at their mining village.

  Quatze stopped behind his older cousin at the mouth of what appeared to be a perfectly round tunnel into the wall of the pyramid. It was easily wide enough for the larger boy to crawl into headfirst. As soon as Méké shimmied into the hole and disappeared, Quatze quickly turned and looked back to make sure no one had entered the huge lower chamber after them. Then he slipped into the tunnel behind his cousin. They crawled up at a slight angle for about ten meters then the strange tube through the rock ended. But it didn’t end in a stone wall. Instead, as Quatze looked past Méké, he could see a reflection of the blue sky and clouds from outside.

  His cousin flattened himself up against the side of the tunnel to let Quatze move beside him and see up close. As he climbed in beside Méké, Quatze could see the large diameter flat mirror embedded into the stone at the perfect angle to reflect into the upper part of the tunnel and out the side of the giant pyramid. Quatze had never seen anything like the large, polished mirror. He reached forward and held his small hand over the shiny surface, which reflected his brown skin perfectly. Before Quatze could get over his amazement, Méké grabbed his hand and pulled it back.

  “Don’t touch it. If it is marked, they will know.”

  Quatze turned and faced his cousin as they laid side by side.

  “What are they for?” Quatze was baffled. This was the fourth tunnel they had explored down here. And all of them had the same type of shiny rock that reflects the sky.

  “I do not know. But I have seen where they come from. There is a room with many of them. They are very old.”

  “Is it here, in the Pyramid of Life?” Quatze still could not believe he was inside the fabled pyramid here in the holiest of temple cities. And the pyramid was more amazing and grand than anything Quatze had ever imagined. He wondered if he would ever be able to tell his father he knew where the red rocks went when they finished getting them out of the ground. He and Méké had just climbed up one of the massive piles of ore at the very bottom of the pyramid in a room that was about to be sealed off with a wall. Méké had also shown him the many places around the room that held the iron bowl mirrors against the walls. Everywhere Quatze looked on his stealthy tour with his cousin, he saw strange shaped pieces of metal, which protruded from the walls of the pyramid or extended from section to section in deep lines embedded into the stone structure. The entire room was a mystery to the young boy. In fact, Quatze had no idea what most of the things he’d seen here in the temple city were actually for.

  The two boys made their way back down to the bottom floor then climbed through the small opening still left in the hidden wall and out of the pyramid as quietly as a pair of mice. When they wound their way back up to the surface and slipped by the guards out front of the mezzanine opening, they both headed around the outside of the layered structure. From there, they made their way to the upper section while still on the backside of the pyramid and away from anyone who might see them from down on the large courtyard. After a few more minutes of climbing, Méké slid down onto his belly and crawled forward to the edge of the very top section of the grand pyramid. From this perspective, the entire mountaintop complex was visible. Quatze slipped in beside him, and their little heads peeked out like a pair of owls surveying a field of mice from the top of the tallest pyramid for hundreds of miles.

  Méké pointed to a smaller pyramid at the far end of the courtyard. Quatze knew what the building was. Méké smiled at him with a toothy teenage grin that glowed in the light as the sun dropped farther toward the western horizon, and the sky began to turn orange from distant clouds. Quatze could see the mischief in his older cousin’s eyes before he even spoke.

  “That is where the stones that reflect the world come from. Do you want to see?”

  “Can we see it now?”

  Méké shook his head. “No. We must wait until they have finished with the wall below. Then the temple room will be less guarded.”

  Both boys continued to watch the courtyard below the gigantic Pyramid of Life as the sun baked into their little bodies.

  Although the Mayan culture built many pyramids throughout their territory, the Pyramid of Life was part of the most holy of Mayan temple complexes and sat on top of one of the highest mountains in the region. Much of the step-sided pyramid structure was built upon over millennia. A massive courtyard plaza held the other buildings in the temple city. A second smaller pyramid was on the opposite end from the Pyramid of Life, and the entire mountain ridge that the temple plaza sat upon was actually a gigantic earthworks project begun almost eleven thousand years earlier, in the ninth millennia, BC.

  But in this time, the temple complex was the most wondrous and mysterious place that the young priest initiate, Quatze, had ever seen. As the two boys watched, the group of stone workers that were charged with finishing the hidden wall below began to gather together at the base of the grand pyramid. Behind those men, the complex began to come back to life after the midday break from the heat. Quatze and Méké silently slid away from the edge and quickly made their way back down to the ground. As they came out from the side of the pyramid, they smiled at each other then took off running for their duties. It would be weeks later before the two boys could find the boredom and free time to complete their planned visit to the smaller pyramid.

  • • •

  When the day finally arrived, Méké came and got Quatze while the others were all taking the afternoon break, just like before. They made their way around the outside of the complex and came up from behind the smaller pyramid. Then the boys crawled up the outside of the stone structure, keeping low to stay out of sight of anyone still moving around in the courtyard. When they made it up to the layer above the opening, they started moving around to the side. As they got to the corner of the stone precipice and peeked down, they saw that the two mezzanine guards had retreated down the front steps and over to the shaded building next door to get out of the hot sun.

  Méké quickly dropped over the ledge and landed silently on his bare feet near the side of the opening into the pyramid. Quatze joined him a moment later, making no more sound than a rustling leaf. Then the two boys slipped into the front of the entryway and ran down the stairs into the darkness.

  When they got to the bottom of the first layer, Quatze’s eyes had not yet adjusted, and he stumbled behind his cousin; dragging his toes across the stone before his vision cleared. Méké grabbed him by the hand and started to pull Quatze behind him as he jogged silently into the darkness. After a couple of minutes of running through a maze of corridors, Méké slowed and rounded a final corner. Then he stepped in front of a corbeled doorway to a small room. But Quatze suddenly pulled his hand ou
t of his cousin’s grip and slid to a stop on his bare feet.

  “Wait… what about the rules?”

  Quatze stood in the corridor just outside the forbidden room. He was still excited, but he suddenly had second thoughts. There were serious rules about this room.

  The thought of rules made Quatze think of his father. He missed his family, but he mostly missed his father. Quatze had been looking forward to joining his brothers and father at the mine when he was old enough in a few years. But then the Priests came to the mines one day, and before he knew what was happening, he was here in the holiest of temple cities; just like what happened to his cousin two years earlier.

  Méké snapped around and cupped his hand over the younger boy’s mouth before he could make another sound.

  “No talking…” he softly whispered as he quickly looked around to see if anyone who was still in the pyramid heard them.

  When he was sure his companion wouldn’t speak again, Méké grabbed Quatze by the wrist and silently dragged him into the doorway. The interior of the plain-walled temple room that was reserved only for the High-Council of Priests was lit by just two candle-torches.

  As the two black-haired boys crept quietly to the rear of the somber and simple chamber, the Box was sitting against the back wall on a pedestal about a meter high. Except during ceremonies and when consulted by the High-Council, the Mayan Priests had strict orders never to open the Box, under any circumstances.

  But Méké and his cousin, Quatze, weren’t Priests; not yet.

  Méké took the closest torch from the wall and handed it to his younger accomplice. Then he pushed Quatze over to the side of the pedestal. Méké barely hesitated as he lifted the intricately carved wooden top smoothly off the bottom of the solid mahogany container and set it on the side of the table-sized pedestal. He looked back at Quatze, then pulled the beautiful colored cloth aside. Quatze instinctively stepped closer to see, almost dropping the torch. But he caught it quickly with two hands and carefully held it next to the holy relic.

  Inside the dark wooden case, light reflected off the smooth, glassy surface. Small grooves of writing glowed with tiny prisms of light from the torch, which was now only inches from its surface. Rainbow colored reflections seemed to shimmer and twinkle even in the dim orange glow from the open flame. The clear, glassy material itself was almost iridescent. Both boys stared with wide-open eyes and slightly open mouths at the mysterious spectacle before them.

  Quatze had never seen anything like it. Even Méké was showing respect as he slowly leaned in and stared closely at the strange, clear piece of rock. Quatze wanted to touch it, but he was too in awe to move. Finally, he pulled his eyes off the clear Rock of God and slowly turned toward his cousin.

  “Can I tuhh—”

  Before he could finish whispering his question, screams started to come from the tunnel entrance outside.

  Caught with their hands in the most holy of cookie jars, neither Quatze nor Méké knew what to do. They stood looking at each other; too frightened to move; unable to even breathe. Suddenly, the noise from the approaching screams burst into the room. It was the Head Priest and most of the members of the High-Council. Méké and Quatze knew the punishment for this transgression was death, but they were still paralyzed with fear. They simply watched with terrified eyes as the massive Head Priest charged across the room directly at them. Like two animals frozen in a spotlight, neither child moved a muscle as the enormous man came stampeding into their personal space and then roughly shoved them out of the way.

  The Head Priest didn’t even acknowledge their presence as he grabbed the Box and shoved the top back over the clear rock plate. Then he and the throng of Priests turned and ran out of the temple chamber, leaving the trembling boys shaking and alone in the now dark room. Méké looked down and saw a puddle under his legs at the same moment he felt his bladder finish releasing. Quatze stared into the darkness and was thinking of his father in his state of shock. He wished he had never left his family back in the mining village.

  Neither boy would ever see their families, again.

  • • •

  The Head Priest didn’t slow down when he reached the surface of the complex from the subterranean room in the smaller pyramid. When he got outside and looked at the courtyard, he found pandemonium. Spanish Conquistadors were riding through the plaza on horseback and in armor. Their swords were swinging wildly at anything that moved. Old men, women, and children were all being chopped down by the stampeding filthy mercenaries. Raiding parties of long-haired Spaniards were roaming through temple rooms looting for gold and gems. As he watched the attack, the Head Priest knew he was right to accelerate the finish of the secret temple room deep below the monstrous Pyramid of Life.

  He also knew what he had to do right this moment.

  The High-Priest began running toward the huge pyramid on the other end of the plaza with the beautiful carved Box tucked under his gigantic arm.

  The hulking man moved quickly for someone with the mass he carried. The muscles in his enormous legs pumped full of blood with each of his lightening fast strides across the wide expanse of the center courtyard. When he approached the front of the step-sided pyramid, a mounted Conquistador reared up on his horse in front of him. Before the Priest could slow down, two dozen Royal Guardsmen of the Warrior Priesthood rushed out from the temple pyramid opening below the towering second layer, four stories above the plaza floor. While the machete bearing protectors of the High-Priest leapt down the stone stepped structure, the High-Priest dodged the front hooves of the Conquistador’s steed. As he took off up the steps, spanning five at a time, he almost missed the desperate swing of the frustrated invader from Spain.

  But he didn’t.

  The tip of the sword of the Conquistador swung over the top of the exposed upper shoulder of the Priest, slicing open his jugular with a clean cut. The Priest made four more leaping bounds up the side of the pyramid before the blood began gushing out of his neck.

  The bulk of the Royal Guard passed him and descended upon the Conquistador. Two guards leapt into the air at the same time, swinging their blades down in great arcs like lumberjacks wielding an axe. Both of the arms of the Conquistador severed cleanly off above each elbow. A second pair of Guards leapt on the armless ironclad horseman and followed him down to the ground, burying their blades across his exposed neck. The vengeful holy protectors scissored their machetes together and severed his head, like a giant pair of hedge clippers.

  The three Royal Guards who had remained on the pyramid grabbed the High-Priest before he fell backwards from the sudden loss of blood. They dragged him the rest of the distance up the steps and into the opening before the last of his life had drained away. With wide and dying eyes, he whispered to the closest Guard.

  “Get the Box… to the room.”

  And then he died.

  The last image burned into the growing blackness that crept in on his consciousness was the Box being pulled from his still clutching fingers by the newly chosen savior of his God.

  The Guard wasted no time. As he saw the glaze of death spread over his Holy Leader, he knew exactly what to do. He had been trained for this moment, as those before him had been trained for a thousand years. This was his sole purpose in life; he would now fulfill it, no matter what. He had been chosen by the Holy High-Priest himself.

  The young Royal Guardian took the holy wooden case and sprinted through the maze of corridors and tunnels in the massive pyramid. Down and down he went; his thoughts focused and pure like an epiphany. ‘Back this way… Now over to the wall and back down the hidden passage.’ Down again he ran, into the deepest layers of the ancient basement complex. When he got to the bottom, the Guard sprinted past the huge wall of glyphs and art that hid the entrance to the real reason for building this structure; the real reason men and women had sacrificed their lives to construct this pyramid over the ten thousand years since it was begun.

  A reason that was now h
idden behind a false wall, which would hopefully never be found.

  The Guard only had a moment to ponder this as he took another turn and headed into an antechamber not far from the secret wall. The room was lit with dozens of candle torches, as was the entire pyramid interior. The bright paintings and the glowing torchlight made the inside of the stone and earth monument seem comfortable. The small room had nothing in it that would seem to confer a purpose to the antechamber. It laid off a large passageway to the false hallway room that hid the entrance to the central pyramid basement. It seemed almost an afterthought of design.

  When he got in the room, the Royal Guard ran to the far back corner with the Box. The back wall of the chamber was covered in beautifully intricate carvings and glyphs that went from the floor up onto the curved ceiling. The carvings near the bottom were larger and more convoluted than those on the top half of the carved mural. Half bird and half men creatures crossed over and under each other, with arms and legs intertwined with wings, beaks, and feathers.

  Expertly hidden among the arms and legs of the multitude of mythical beasts was a deep darkness the size of a manhole. When he got to the corner, there were several other Royal Guards of the Warrior Priesthood waiting beside the entrance to the hole in the wall. One of them tried to reach for the Box, but the chosen guardian of the sacred stone dove for the opening with the mahogany case tucked under his body. Just inside the tunnel was a large pile of heavy blankets bound together with leaves and stuffing in the middle. It was a crude mattress made to fit under the Box as it slid through the hidden passage. The Guard shot into the opening and landed on top of the Box, on top of the mattress. He immediately shoved himself vertically until he slammed his head and back into the top of the small tunnel. Then he grabbed the mattress with one hand and pulled it in front of him.

  His bare knees and feet slid across the carved rock hole while he pushed the Box ahead of him. He could only hold himself upright with one hand as he carefully guided the mahogany treasure down the square hole, which was only inches wider than the Box itself. His hand began to bleed almost immediately; long before he could see the dim light in the far distance of the hole. But only the hand he used on the ground was bleeding. The hand he used to push the Box never touched the dirt or the rocks. No blood from the dutiful savior of the secret of the Maya would stain the Box. As the guard kept his momentum at the pace of a fast stroll down a street, the fingers of the hand he was driving into the rock began to lose skin and flesh to the bone. But the guard didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. He didn’t dare. He was the chosen one.

  When he reached the end of the tortuously long tunnel, another Royal Guard was there to grab the Box out of the hole. The chosen one jumped out as best he could with bloody knees and only one working hand. The other Guard carried the Box over to the only object in the small octagonal shaped room with a ceiling too low to stand. A short pedestal about four feet across and a little under three feet tall sat in the middle of the vertically-challenged room. The light from the one torch threw shadows over the intricate carvings on the pedestal sides. The top of the pedestal was perfectly flat and smooth. Exactly centered in the square pedestal was a hole that was just large enough to hold the wooden case. After he reverently placed the Box into the hole in the pedestal top, he and the wounded Royal Guard crawled to the far side of the pedestal. Leaning against the back of the table was an intricately carved top that was matched to the stone bottom.

  Both of the men grabbed the sides of the massive carved pedestal top. The bloody and raw fingers of the chosen one ground into the rough stone on the edge of the cover. Calling on every ounce of strength in his damaged body, the chosen one lifted his half of the 350 pound top until it was horizontal. Then the two men started to hover the stone cover into position over the pedestal. The pain in the chosen one’s hand was now making itself known. He could feel the actual bone in his first two fingers crunching against the stone in his hand. His knees were beginning to wobble and cramp from the long crawl he made to get in here. Just as he thought he would no longer be able to hold up his side, the other Guard began to lower the top onto the pedestal. The intertwined carvings in the intricate top began to line up and slowly drop the final few millimeters.

  Then, his finger tip shattered from the load on the unprotected bone.

  The immense stone top fell the last twelve millimeters and the chosen one screamed out in pain. The part of the top that was against the raw bones in his hand was the only part that had his blood on it. It was this exact piece which snapped cleanly off when the top fell the final fractions of an inch. The small, broken stone fell onto the ground in front of the chosen one. As the other Royal Guard crawled toward the exit hole, the chosen one grabbed the broken piece and tried to put it back into the spot where it belonged. But the carvings designed to hide the top prevented it from fitting. There would be no way to put the piece back in without removing the top. And he couldn’t do that alone.

  He looked up in time to see his only source of help shimmy into the hole with the mattress and disappear.

  He grabbed the broken piece of stone in his damaged hand and extinguished the torch against the wall before he limped into the exit hole and crawled toward a future he had never trained for. His sole purpose in life had just been fulfilled. The God Itzamna had been saved from the hordes of savages that were now raping and pillaging his sacred temple. Then he remembered the High-Priest was also dead. He watched him die with his own eyes. And then the Guard did what the High-Priest charged him with doing; what he had trained his whole life to do.

  He saved his God.

  As the chosen one stuck his head out of the hole, the others grabbed his shoulders and yanked him out of the tunnel. Then they quickly slid a carved stone, which was lodged between the legs and wings of the relief carving, into the hole opening. They pushed it back into the wall, and the perfectly fitted block of stone slid into place. Now the tunnel was sealed and hidden.

  It would remain hidden for the next 468 years.

  Just as the Royal Guards finished, they heard the screams approaching. The antechamber they were in was a dead-end room, only one entrance. The warrior guardians pulled out their machete blades made of the holy metal iron and waited for the arrival of their doom. They didn’t have to wait long. A group of four Conquistadors charged into the room with swords drawn. The machetes were no match for the Spanish steel in the close quarters of the antechamber. The chosen one was the last to have his heart pierced by the unfeeling blade of the conquerors. As the eyes of the brave guard clouded over, the mercenary who killed him reached down and yanked off the gold and gem necklace the dying man wore to signify his membership in the elite clan of Royal Guardians chosen for a holy mission.

  The bloody fingers of the fallen hero slowly opened after the Conquistador finished robbing his corpse. The broken piece of the hidden pedestal fell silently between his bloody and damaged legs.

  That broken piece of stone would also not be disturbed for the next 468 years.

  The Conquistadors barely found a pocketful of treasure on the bodies of the Royal Guards of the Warrior Priesthood.

  They never found the hidden tunnel or the false-wall hiding the real reason the monument existed.

  They never found the hoard of gold they hoped to find, either…